A One Night Stand

A One Night Stand by counterparts199

  The phone rang for the sixteenth time.  Somewhere around the fifth ring, Arnie felt a pang of guilt.  Then around the eleventh ring, he started laughing, imagining the lady's desperation.  He envisioned Marlie, a bit love struck, pleading at the dead receiver for him to "Pick up, pick up."  He thought it might be interesting if he did pick up and shout something like, "Sure.  Come on over, and I'll be happy to fuck you blind again before I put you out!"  Reflecting back, he guessed fuck was maybe being a little disrespectful of Marlie's skills.  After all, she had done a wonderful deep throat, and even swallowed; he'd not even seen the cum before it was gone.  Of course he had no intention of talking to her, nor did he intend to offer her an easy in.  She'd been a nice pick-up, and it had been a fun few hours.  Nothing more than the swallowing thing had seemed all that special to him, but he always marveled at how the more innocent of his conquests never saw a few hours of sex with him that way.  There was the first day after free as they waited for him to call them, followed by that second day call.  He had caller ID, so he had the pattern down.  In fact, he could tell which ones fit the pattern too.  When it came to one night stands, his friends unanimously regarded Arnie as the uncontested champion.

  Arnie looked at his reflection in the mirror as the phone quit.  He was a brutally handsome man, blond, the square jaw of a player and though shorter than average, hung like a horse.  His family was upper class enough that he had a cushy job as Senior Vice President of Doodling in daddy's little firm.  As for reputation, well, his buddies knew him as the one night stand king, thirty-seven one night women in a row and still counting on this streak alone.  Of course he had to move around a little to make a thing like that work out, so he made it a habit to not visit the same club twice in a month, rotating his act around the ten best in town, and restricting the mating ritual to no more than three times a week.  Tonight he felt a little charitable, hoping to make the Pentagon, a campus Goth experience that wasn't on his usually more upscale list.  The thought of picking up some sweet young thing with short, day-glo red hair and a ring in her nose held his interest since seeing 'The Crow' on the movie channel the night before.

  There wasn't anyone with red hair when he got there, but he was able to target a nice bleach blonde college girl in a slinky red one piece who looked like she'd been poured into the thing.  God did she look good dancing.  Up on the stage the band was brutal, ripping out repetitive lines to a beat straight out of the Congo.  Arnie walked right up to her and started dancing.  She acted like she was ignoring him at first, but then couldn't keep her body off of him as the music picked up on song after song, each seemingly sharing the same drumbeat.  They didn't even exchange names before Arnie had her out the door, and into his car where they necked like wild animals.

  Up on Arnie's apartment door was a note taped to the eye hole.  It read, "Call me," and was signed, Marlie.  He ripped it off, and put it into his pocket before opening the door and bedding his little bleach blonde Gothic girl.

  Arnie got up the next morning to an empty bed, the Goth girl apparently leaving on her own.  He walked into the bathroom, and pulled a note off of the mirror that read, "Give me a call."  There was a number, and it was signed Bridget, in lipstick.  When he took the note down, he could see Bridget's lip marks on his forehead, cheeks and mouth.  She'd worn that deep red lipstick and really black eyeliner like some kind of vampire child, and though her hair had been bleeched almost white, her eyebrows and pubic hair had been black as night; very attention getting, laughed Arnie.  At all of ninety pounds, she'd attacked his body like a wildcat.  Arnie snickered at the memory of how worked up she'd gotten, in spite of the fact that there'd not been a single word exchanged until the fucking itself, wherein she'd moaned and screamed enough to wake the dead.  Yep, he thought, Bridget had been a great fuck, and that was just the memory of her he wanted to keep, cheap slut that she was.  He knew that if he called her, there'd be talk and with that came complications.  Arnie wadded up the note, and tossed it into the toilet before pissing on it and flushing the woman down the drain.

  There was a note on the windshield of his BMW.  "Please call me."  It was another one from Marlie.  I'm beginning to get a little annoyed with that cum eating whore, thought Arnie, wondering if she'd put the note there right after he'd come home with the new woman, or just that morning.

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  "Good morning, Linda," said Arnie, rushing into his office twenty minutes late.

  "Oh, Mister Ryan.  There's a package for you.  I put it on your desk," said the secretary.

  Arnie put his briefcase down and opened the box of flowers.  Inside was a note, "Thanks for a good time.  I want to see you again."  It was signed Marlie.  Under the signature was her number.  "Christ!  She's like a bloody stalker," said Arnie, sitting down, and trying to decide what to do about it.

  He picked up the phone, and dialed her number thinking, see, already complications.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi.  This is Arnie.  I got your flowers."

  "Oh.  Did you like them.  I'm glad you called," said the same sweet mouth that Arnie remembered filling with cum three nights before.

  "Yes I did, but I don't think that things between us were meant to be.  I'm sorry, but I just thought it would be best if I came right out and said it before things went too far," confided Arnie, as if honesty in relationships was his habit and not his last ditch means of untying unintended knots.

  "I see.  Maybe if we met, you know, in a more casual way, like at the movies, or just for lunch.  I'm usually not the night club type of person," said Marlie innocently.

  "I'm sorry.  I just don't think we hit it off," said Arnie.  That caught her off stride, and she didn't answer.  Arnie imagined her crying on the other side.  "I'm sorry," he repeated, and put the receiver on the cradle.  "Fuck!"  Said Arnie weakly, at first feeling sorry for the woman, but then feeling a little pissed at her naiveté.  Shoot, everyone who goes to a club should be given lessons at the door about the rules, he thought.  Maybe just a note, something valley like, 'Like if you get like fucked, and you know, like dumped, well, for sure that's like way normal!'  Then it struck him, how did she know where I worked?  She was a stalker.  But then, the day went on and no calls, so Arnie thought he'd done the right thing being honest.  In fact, a whole month went by without a single call.  Of course Bridget had called on the third day, as had five of the last seven women.  Things were back on course and Marlie was a memory.  He even started thinking fondly of her again, recalling her adorable deep throat skill, and the way her brown eyes looked up at him, her brunette curls bobbing just before he'd moaned and then stopped, her swallowing his cock as deep as it would go, which in his case was a substantial depth.  Her very tonsils seemed to manipulate the head of his cock as it pulsed out the cum, her eyes, big cow eyed saucers, reflecting her awareness of the substance tumbling into her esophagus.  Oh god, recalled Arnie, almost cumming in his pants every time he remembered the event.

  He was thinking about that particular blow job when he walked into the 'Beastro'.  There was a bulletin board where they posted the acts, and pinned up between Beasty Boys and Blue Oyster Cult was a note, "Arnie, call me."  It had three phone numbers on it.  The only one of the three Arnie remembered was Marlie's.  Arnie complained to the man at the door, who shrugged and said he'd taken five of those down already that week.  Worried that one of the women would be in the main room, Arnie left for the 'Agora'.  He found the same identical note up on their board, ripping it down without complaining this time.  He'd give a call all right, he thought, to his lawyer in the morning.  Of course, there was duty tonight.  Duty was a fine, tall, black haired raven straight from 'Pulp Fiction'.  When he tried finishing with a blow job down deep inside of her throat, she did her best to oblige, but choked and spit the cum out, ruining the whole thing.

  "What do you mean it's not likely to be a crime?" Asked Arnie as he talked to his lawyer.  He was left with the advise to be careful, and hope the thing blew over.  Arnie slammed down the phone, certain that he had a case.  Sure, it was hard to prove stalking, and sure it was twice as hard for a man than a woman, but she was leaving a trail, argued Arnie to no avail.

  Things did seem to blow over, but ten days later he found another note on the 'Dance Central' wall.  This time there were five phone numbers, including the numbers of the last two women he'd had a one night stand with just the week before.  "Call me Arnie.  We need to talk."  It was more than stalking, he realized.  If this kept up he'd have no safe hunting grounds.  Every woman in town would be on alert for the guy named Arnie.  What was he going to do, change his name?

  Well, there was one tactic he'd not tried.  Arnie picked up the phone and called Marlie.  "What do you want?" He shouted before she could say hello.

  "I wanted us to go to dinner or something, Arnie; remember, I asked you if we could have another date," Marlie said.

  "It's out of the question.  I thought we could be mature about this," said Arnie insistently.

  "Oh.  Well, maybe if we just talked then," offered Marlie.

  "No!  What part of no is hard to understand?" Screamed Arnie.

  "So we can't just talk, you know, for a few minutes."

  "N  O.  No.  We can't talk," said Arnie.

  "Then I'll just have to put up some more notes," said Marlie.

  "I'll sue you if you do that," threatened Arnie.

  "It won't stop the notes.  I have others helping me now, and if I'm singled out, they'll just keep on putting the notes up, which would pretty much prove it isn't me."

  "You bitch!"  Arnie thought about his next words.  "OK.  What if I tell you that we can talk.  Will that make you happy?  Will you stop if we have our little chit chat?"

  "That would be fine.  I'm at 135 East Virginia Avenue, room 314.  If you can be here by six, we'll talk, and I promise you can walk out if you want to."

  "That will satisfy you?"

  "Yes.  Just be here at six.  Then I can ring your ear for ... um ... say half an hour.  If you want, after that, you can go and I'll not bother you anymore," said Marlie.

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  Arnie found himself walking into an office building.  He rode the elevator to the third floor, and found room 314.  The paint on the translucent office door read Ms. Marlie Madison, Counseling.  Arnie laughed at the idea, remembering having read how psychiatrists and psychologists had the world's highest propensity towards seeking out psychiatric care.  If there was one thing Marlie needed, realized Arnie, it was a good shrink.  He opened the door and walked into the waiting area.  "Anybody home?"

  A glass window slid open.  A rather portly middle aged lady stuck out her head and said, "Mister Ryan?  Just have a seat.  She'll be with you in a moment," as if he had an appointment.  Arnie shrugged, slapped his hands on his thighs and sat down on a couch because there were boxes filling the other two chairs.

  After ten minutes of elevator music, a woman came out; Arnie was thinking, probably a customer, from the intense look on her face as she walked through.

  Strangely, there were no magazines, not even 'Ladie's Journal'.  Up on the wall was a really strange op art piece that caught his attention though, squares that moved in a spiral.  If he looked at it intensely enough, he imagined he could run around the thing with his eyes like a maze.  Coupled with the music, the thing reminded him of how he'd felt when he first saw the Disney film, Fantasia.

  The door to his left opened up again, and a man walked through, probably the lady's husband, realized Arnie.  The window slid open.  "She'll be with you in just a few more minutes now, Mister Ryan.  That was her last for today."  It closed.

  Arnie nodded at the closing glass window, and went back to figuring out if the picture really did spin all the way to the middle without a break.  The whole waiting room experience seemed a little like a dentist's office, a unique little smell, and the absolute necessity of waiting at least half an hour, regardless of how on time you might have been for the appointment.

  The door opened, and Arnie started to raise, but then sat back down when he saw the receptionist walk through.  She nodded, and then left the office, her day apparently done.  Arnie thought about getting up and barging in, but hey, he decided, it was Marlie's nickel.  If he acted reasonable, maybe she'd leave him alone.  She'd have to come to him though, and besides, he was only eighty percent of the way through the maze.

  He went back to watching the lines, moving his eyes to the left, and then down, and then to the right and then up, following the spirals as they tightened towards the center.  There seemed a system to follow, realized the gigolo.  Every three beats for a horizontal line, and then one beat down or up.  The music stopped on the song, but picked up on a new one, almost a chant.  He understood, perhaps instinctively, that he needed to start over with the new song.  Those were the rules, he realized:  Like, "Step on a crack, you'll break your mother's back."  If you couldn't finish, then you had to start all over again.  Arnie was, in spite of his one woman, one night philosophy, an organized person.  The music stopped and started again, another chant it seemed, but this one was even more entertaining.  He started at the top right corner, and retraced the lines.  He'd gotten almost to the end last time, and just knew he would make it on this song.  Yes, he thought.  You can make it on this song!  Then there was another song.  Yes, I can make it on this song, thought Arnie.  He was two lines away from finishing, when the song changed.  Arnie tried to concentrate, but on the next song, he realized he'd missed a line, and had to start over even before the song finished.

  Arnie sensed something in the air, like a fine mist, like the hint of rain.  Arnie always liked the smell just before the rain.  He dreamed of the clouds and fields of corn waving in the gentle breeze of a warm summer day.  His body seemed to sink into the couch, as the music chanted and whispered, "Nice and warm.  Just relax and listen.  Watch the lines.  You feel so wonderful."  He was walking through the lines, like a farmer wandering through his fields of corn during the less active season between the planting and the harvest.  The music was moving him through, row by row.  It was very pleasant, imagined Arnie.

  He felt a prick on his arm, and slowly moved around to see an insect biting on his arm.  He felt the pinprick with his hand and scratched.  As slow as his reaction had been, it seemed to get even slower after the prick.

  "You are now very comfortable.  So relaxed.  Isn't it pleasant here?  Can't you smell the flowers and sweet smell of summer," said a very sexual voice.

  "Yes," said Arnie, his eyes closed as he smelled the room.

  "It's your girlfriend.  Way back as a teenager.  You're with her in the field.  There are acres and acres of corn to every side of you, and nobody ever comes in here.  Just lie back, and feel her body as you lie in the little clearing in the middle of the rows.  So relaxed and full of anticipation.  Kiss her.  Taste her lips.  Isn't it wonderful," said Marlie as she put the hypodermic needle on the table of magazines, and loosened her blouse.  She leaned over, and took his mouth with hers, kissing deeply.

  "Oh god," moaned Arnie, kissing her passionately and then coming back for air.

  "You have never felt this excited before.  It's overwhelming.  You can't imagine ever wanting to leave or to change anything about it.  Isn't that true, Arnie?"

  "Yes," he managed to say from within his deep trance.

  "Yes.  You want to come here every night.  Every night at six o'clock.  You will come to this office so you can feel this warm, wonderful dreamlike ecstasy.  It's maddening, the need.  Can't you feel the desire?  Don't you crave coming here to feel this way?"

  "Yes.  Oh, yes," said Arnie.

  "When you get here, you will need to sit in this seat, and look at the picture.  As soon as you see it, you will start to move into this place in the corn.  You will be very warm, and trusting.  After all, it is why you have come here.  You need to feel this way.  Everything else in your life will pale by comparison.  And, when you come here, you will feel this deep desire to move into your trance, so that you can experience these overwhelming feelings, but you can only feel them if you trust.  Do you trust me, Arnie?"

  "Yes."  He moaned as soon as the word yes fell from his lips.

  "I want you to take off your clothes, Arnie.  I want you naked, so we can lose ourselves in this warm, wonderful feeling," said Marlie, standing up and watching.  She crossed her arms, and enjoyed the stud's strip job.  As for her part, Marlie reached down, picked up the sides of her skirt, and then dropped her panties to the floor.  She stepped out, and picked up the panties, placing them beside the hypodermic.

  "That's it, my little sex slave.  Now push your hips down to the edge of the couch, and get that cock as hard as you can get it.  I want to see it standing at attention for me," commanded Marlie, picking up a camera, and snapping a few Polaroids of Arnie playing with himself.

  "Can you feel how wonderful it is here?  Isn't it irresistible, Arnie dear?"

  "Oh yes.  Oh god, I'm about to cum," said the naked man.

  "Stop stroking yourself, my love.  Just wait, and dream of your first lover.  I'm coming to you.  Oh, my, how huge you are.  I need to feel you inside of me.  You are so huge."  Marlie planted her knees to each side of Arnie's body, and positioned her ready pussy over his cock.  The dress hid the rendezvous as it fell around the lower half of the naked man.  "Do you want me to fuck you?"

  "Yes.  Please," begged Arnie.

  "Can you feel that?"  Asked Marlie, as she lowered herself onto the shaft, burying it slowly inside of her body.

  "Oh!"

  "Yes, you can feel that.  It's like no fuck you've ever felt before.  Such a virgin.  It's your first time, Arnie.  Imagine, finally, a warm pussy, tight around your cock.  Isn't it incredible?"

  "Oh, yes!"

  "You have to come here every day at six.  Then you have to sit here, and watch the picture, and obey the music.  When you find the field, you will speak my name.  You will call for Marlie.  You will beg to be my slave.  You will beg me to command you, and you will do everything I ask, regardless of what I ask.  Do you understand these things Arnie?"  Asked Marlie, as she raised slowly, her pussy eventually surrendering the cock just enough that he could only feel a few pubic hairs resting on the tip.

  "Oh, please," begged Arnie, raising to touch the lips of her pussy with his penis.

  "Yes, you will obey me," commanded Marlie, lowering herself onto Arnie until the head of his cock was an inch behind her belly button.

  "Yes.  I will obey you!"

  "You are my slave!"

  "Yes.  I am your slave!"

  "You will be in misery until you can get here.  Your day will seem endless, and as your day proceeds you'll not remember why you need to be here, but you will be compelled more and more as the day grows closer to six.  So confused, but so determined, Arnie dear," tormented Marlie.

  "Yes.  Yes.  Don't make me go.  I want to be here," begged Arnie as she fucked his cock too slowly to allow him to cum, but so slowly that he felt every minute part of her every motion.

  "I love your titties, Arnie.  You want me to touch them!"

  "Yes.  Touch my breasts," said Arnie, so easily suggested to at the peak of his trance and arousal.

  "Not breasts, Arnie.  Titties.  I want you to ask me to play with your titties while acknowledging me as your Mistress," commanded Marlie.

  "Please, play with my titties," begged Arnie, as he bucked for leverage, his cock two fast pumps away from orgasm, though in a world controlled by Marlie's slow, methodical vaginal press.

  "Please play with my tittie, Mistress.  Slaves need to be polite, and remember to say Mistress at least occasionally!"

  "Please play with my titties, Mistress," begged Arnie, his eyes flickering hypnotically.

  "If you insist, slut," said Mistress Marlie, reaching down and flicking his nipples with her fingers.  After a few minutes of that she couldn't take it anymore, and reached down to play with her own clit, cumming in waves.  No longer in control of the desires of her own body, she fucked the cock wildly.  As if on cue, Arnie's cock erupted with jets of cum that coated the insides of Marlie's pussy until the penis started to slip more loosely.  Slowly, Marlie calmed herself, and just sat on the penis, basking in the glory of her conquest.  Then she got up and regained her panties.

  "I want you to sit there.  Count to two hundred.  When you get to two hundred you will easily and carefully recover from your trance.  You won't remember a thing that happened here.  You will think that you must have missed me.  Somehow, the appointment will have changed to tomorrow at six.  As you already know, you will feel an overwhelming compulsion to be here then, and to serve me.  Your whole negative attitude against me will have changed, as you grow compulsive in your need to be here at six every evening.  Do you understand your new directives, my boytoy?"

  "Yes, Mistress Marlie."

  "Oh, and one more thing, boy.  I want you to make copies of the notes that you've found around town, and put them up yourself.  Make sure the people who work at these places see you doing it.  You can do a few every night, starting tonight.  Once you've made your rounds, we won't need any more of that."

  "Yes Mistress Marlie," said a robotic Arnie.

  "Well then, I'll be off.  Be sure to lock up before you go.  Just push bye on the alarm, and set the button on the door handle," said Marlie, picking up the hypodermic needle and setting it inside the receptionist's window before finding her bag and leaving her office waiting room.  Ten minutes later Arnie got up, dressed and then set the alarm and lock on office 314's main door.  He had an overwhelming desire to go out to a club, even though it was normally a night he stayed home.  Stopping at a copy store, he made some copies of an ad that he needed to post.  In fact, the need to post the ads seemed to preoccupy him to the point that he never really managed to find a one night stand.  Oh well, thought Arnie, realizing he, for some unexplainable reason, really wasn't all that horny anyway, beating the nightly news to bed.

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  If was odd that the day seemed to shoot by.  Arnie was soon sitting in the same couch, watching the same picture as the previous late afternoon, and listening to the same chant embedded music as the day before.  In flashes he saw Bridget, at first thinking it a dream, but then understanding that the sex was tight and real as she impaled her black haired pussy on his cock.  Up, closer to his face, Marlie kissed his lips, and whispered into his ear.  Two at once had never been one of Arnie's big fantasies, but it was definitely having an effect as his cock was squeezed, seemingly it's own little person, wide awake and working up an eruption as Arnie drifted between awareness and some sort of alternative dream state.

  "You can't seem to forget the feeling of my lips on your cock as my mouth swallowed you.  Can you remember how I sucked, Arnie?"  Whispered Marlie into his ear as Bridget rode him towards a second orgasm.

  "Yes, Mistress," said the smitten man.

  "You saw my eyes pouting up at you, and imagined your cock deep down my throat as I swallowed you whole.  Didn't you," she tormented.

  "Oh yes.  Yes!"

  "It's the sympathy factor, you know, Arnie.  You can almost feel how I felt, as I looked up at you, my eyes a little glossed over, as if seeing inside of myself where the head of your cock was moving deep inside.  You wondered, how does it feel?  You wondered, how does she keep from choking?  Very sympathetic in a way, don't you imagine?  I mean, the way you wondered how it felt, personally?"

  "Yes.  I wondered what you thought as I plunged inside of your throat and you swallowed," confessed Arnie.

  "Here.  I want you to taste my finger.  Just a finger.  Mummmm!  Can't you imagine it inside of your mouth.  Your eyes are my eyes.  Your throat my throat, Arnie.  Just wonder at what it must have felt like; our little, private, scientific experiment.  Just imagine what I was thinking as you conquered my mouth, and I surrendered my very breath to your huge cock.  You know, deep throating is an art.  First you breath in, and the take the penis.  Then when the penis moves out you have to breath in and out really fast again.  There's an art to it, lover," teased Marlie, sticking her finger between his lips.  Arnie started to suck the finger, loosely at first, but then tighter as it dove between his lips.

  "Oh!"  Moaned Arnie.

  "Yes.  You can just imagine it.  You were in such control.  I was so eager to please you; so in touch with my submission to your powerful cock as it took me, impaling my throat, and filling it completely," said Marlie.

  Arnie sucked her finger, taking it all the way to her fist, after which she put a second finger in, and then a third, filling his mouth with flesh.

  "You love this, don't you, Arnie.  You love sucking so much.  You love it so deeply that you'd give up fucking for it if that's what it took.  Yes, suck.  That's a good girl.  Suck my fingers until your mouth hurts from it.  You can't stop sucking my fingers, Arnie.  You crave sucking me.  You will suck anything I offer you, my toes, my fingers, my nipples, my clit.  Such a suck slave, Arnie.  Whenever you think of a woman, or any kind of sexual thought, sucking will be the first thought.  Yes, suck so deep and full.  Such a sweet girl.  Look up at me with those sweet eyes, and plead for it, baby," coaxed Marlie as she fucked Arnie's face with her fingers.

  Down on his cock, Bridget had another orgasm, and then slowed, watching Marlie subject the one night stand king to some justice.  She put her hands over her mouth, and surpressed a squeal of feigned delight.  When Marlie had first confronted her, she'd not wanted to believe that a man like Arnie had actually gotten her into bed with him, but after spying with Marlie and seeing him pick up two more dates, she readily agreed to Marlie's somewhat sick, but at least pleasurable revenge.  Arnie twitched inside of her pussy, reminding her of how pleasurable it had been so far.  It was like riding her own personal human dildo.  Bridget sat there, letting the shrink do her seduction, and realizing that it was the seduction alone that was keeping the penis rock hard inside of her now because she'd not moved in quite some time.

  It looked to Bridget as if Marlie was raping the man's mouth.  She wondered what evil thing Marlie had in store for her hypnotized victim, imagining it probably not equal to what he deserved.  After all, he was still getting laid, although he sometimes didn't seem to be entirely aware of it.

  "That's a good girl.  Now, what are you going to think when you see a nice looking woman walk by you on the street, Arnie?"  Asked Marlie.

  "I'm going to think about sucking your toes and fingers and breasts and clit, Mistress," confessed Arnie.  He found himself repeating her will.  His mind was unable to put his actions and words into a context of past perception, now was it unable to see how his conduct might relate to defined future.

  "Yes, sucking whatever I offer you, aren't you, slut?"

  "Yes, Mistress.  I want to suck whatever you offer me," said Arnie, following her every suggestion.

  "That's right.  Because you are infatuated with the look I had in my eyes when I sucked your cock.  Such sympathy, and curiosity.  You can't help yourself, wondering what it felt like with a big fat cock sliding its way all the way down inside until it's swallowed.  Imagine that, Arnie.  It's almost magical, the wonder at what it feels like.  You are so fixated on the curiosity, aren't you?"

  "Yes, Mistress," moaned Arnie.

  "Good.  Play with your titties for me, Arnie.  Let me know how much you wonder how it felt as you played with my titties and shoved your cock down inside of my throat," added Marlie, sticking her hand inside of Arnie's mouth.  He tried to swallow her fingers, but she backed off quickly, not wanting to disturb his trance with a choke.  Arnie played with his nipples, as she raped his face.

  Bridget sat back on the cock, spellbound at Marlie's control over the mental captive.  The cock inside of her pulsed again, and then moved from side to side as he struggled to stimulate the nerves and force another orgasm.  Bridget sat all of her weight on her pelvis, trying to hold him still, as if her body was somehow needed to help Marlie maintain control.  Soon she was riding a bucking horse as the man responded to Marlie's every word, the feeling of her fingers in his mouth, and the torment of his own fingers flicking his nipples like a whore in heat.

  "That's right.  Now don't you dare cum.  I want my bitch to be nice and horny so she can enjoy shaving her whole body nice and smooth later.  You'll be able to just imagine the way we women must feel as we lather ourselves and put the razor against our leg and stroke up, knowing we are making our bodies irresistible for a man.  We're stroking the lather, smoothing ourselves out so nicely.  He'll stroke our legs later, we're telling ourselves, feeling our smooth skin, and it's going to make him so uncontrollably hot when he feels us that he's going to have to make love to us so badly.  I'm moving my razor up under my arms, and stroking, thinking about his cock getting so big by the simple feel of my skin.  You know how that feels, Arnie.  You can imagine the bitch doing that, shaving herself, and all the while knowing she's doing it to catch a cock.  We women spend hours getting ready for a man, even when we're not sure we'll find one.  Have you ever wondered what we feel when we shave, Arnie, knowing what it's going to do to the man inside when he touches that cool, smooth skin?"

  "Oh!   Oh, yes, Mistress," panted Arnie, pinching his nipples between his fingers and bucking up against Bridget's pussy.

  "Yes.  You have an odd, but uncontrollable need to experience what we feel.  Suck, cunt.  Suck that cock in your mouth!  Yes.  Feel those titties for me.  Oh yes.  Now, imagine the razor, shaving all of that hair off of your body, right up through the sideburns, and everything below that.  Of course, you'll want just a little bit of hair on your beaver.  Just a little; not much.  Then you can feel yourself, and understand what we feel.  So sympathetic, aren't we, Arnie?"

  "Yes, Mistress," moaned Arnie.

  "Such a horny whore.  Such a good one night stand.  But I know you'd like your time with someone new to be even shorter so you can be with even more dates, like maybe just a half hour blow job.  Now it's time to stop.  Stop fucking and keep that cum inside of you so you can be nice and excited for your shave, like a good nympho bitch Arnie.  That's a nice, hot bitch.  Nice and slow; let that cock get nice and small.  There we go.  When it's small like that I can almost imagine it's a perfect little clit.  It's going to get nice and small, and slip right out of the pussy for me.  No more tittie play; that's a good girl.  Almost done.  Just one lick of my finger.  Oh, very nice.  Kiss it.  You are such a tease for such a young woman.  Now, Bridget and I are going to put our clothes back on and leave.  Be sure to remember to shave and before that, pass out the rest of the notes at the dance clubs.  Here are some of the photographs I took yesterday.  You might as well stick one or two of them up with the notes.  There's another thing too, Arnie.  I'm leaving a card in your shirt pocket so you'll know where your next appointment is tomorrow.  Just tell the doctor you want to start your reassignment, and that Marlie Madison sent you.  Then ask for exactly what she suggests is possible for you to do, just as if she were me.  The day after that we can meet back here and play some more.  You'll like that.  In fact, you like all of my suggestions, don't you slut?"

  "Oh, yes Mistress," said Arnie as they dressed.  Bridget giggled, truly smitten by the creative sense of justice springing up from within Marlie's controlling mind.  Marlie threw her a cautious warning look, and then smiled down at her slave.  "We'll see you in two days then.  I have a lot of work to do on you.  Don't forget to count to two hundred and catch the door."

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

  Arnie managed to dress, his balls actually aching from the desire to orgasm.  They'd had him so aroused, he'd developed a case of blue balls.  Somehow he managed to put up the rest of the notes at the clubs, winning evil stares and confrontations with management each time he tried to post, particularly at the two places he'd added photographs.  Arnie realized that he'd managed to get himself blacklisted at nearly all of his old dives, and was wondering why he'd thought it important to put notes up that asked himself to make calls to some girls.  It seemed like the kind of vain, desperate thing a person might do who needed attention.  Arnie knew he didn't need attention, considering he was probably the most handsome man in the city.  Yes, he thought, I am good looking, and such a turn-on too, he told himself, basking in his own illusions of self beauty.

  All I need to do to make myself irresistible is to get rid of some of this hair, he decided, removing his clothing until he was down to his undies.  Arnie stopped at the panties he'd seemed compelled to put on an hour earlier, feeling the fabric, and wondering why he'd not thought it fun to wear them before, considering how much he'd enjoyed the feel of the thin fabric every time he'd been called upon to help remove the garment from some conquest.  It wasn't like there weren't enough pairs around the apartment from dates.  Almost reluctantly, Arnie stripped the panties and stepped into the bathtub.  He'd decided to bathe instead of shower.

  For some reason he'd put a can of shaving lather and a razor by the tub.  Arnie lifted his left leg, and admired how the lather felt as it was rubbed across his skin.  Women all over the free world are lying in their tubs right now, doing just this, he told himself, picking up the razor, and nearly passing out from the thrill of stroking a long, two inch wide lane of hair from his leg.  God, it was so sensual, his mind screamed, seeing the second stroke take off another two inches from his ankle all the way up to his balls.  A team of wild horses would have been needed to stop him from doing it again and again and again.  Arnie shaved, each stroke like a long, deep insertion of his cock into Marlie's tight cunt.  When he was done with the legs, his hands touched the skin all over.  He couldn't believe how exactly his legs felt like a woman's smooth, sensual skin.  This was like living with a woman, only without the hassles.  Why had it taken him so long to do this, he wondered, thrilled at the discovery; his hands all over his cooling legs that towered out of the soapy water as if he were bathing with another person.

  The legs felt so amazing that he had to find something else to lather, spreading the soap over his chest.  When that was gone he went to the bathroom mirror, his head in such a state that he didn't remember to dry off.  As he dripped a puddle on the floor, he raised an arm, and filled the pit with foam.  With each stroke he wanted to scream.  Something in his mind clicked, as he realized that women did this all of the time, and probably took it for granted.  It was better than sex, this shaving, and the ensuing smooth feeling.

  Arnie went to bed, luxuriating in the feeling of femine panties and skin.  He woke up sucking his thumb.

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

  The doctor was a plastic surgeon, noted Arnie, trying to figure out why he'd though of the idea of going to one for a checkup.

  "Well, I did get a call from Marlie about you.  Are you willing to go through with what she suggested?"  Asked Doctor Alice Babson.  Arnie looked her over one more time, temporarily more distracted by her features than her questions.

  "Oh, sure, sure.  She and I discussed the reassignment.  I want to do everything that you suggest," said Arnie.  "You know, you look familiar," he added.

  "We had a few minutes together a few years ago.  You probably don't remember me.  I hear you've been a busy boy.  I know you definitely didn't have the time to pick up when I called," explained the doctor.

  "I remember you now.  Yes, you were very nice.  I'm so sorry things didn't work out between us," said Arnie, not remembering a thing about her actually, other than her face.  He'd had so many, but it was embarrassing not to be nice.

  "OK, well, she made a lot of suggestions, and in spite of the fact that you were rude to me, I do have a legal obligation to be open about the things she said you wanted done.  Please take your clothes off down to your shorts, and we'll do some examining while I pass these things by you," asked Alice.

  Arnie stripped, bringing a second look from Alice as he finished.  He was shaved as clean as a baby's butt, and wore only panties.  "I guess I look a sight," said Arnie, feeling a bit embarrassed.

  "I can see that it might have been for the best that we'd not had that second date.  How long have you been shaving and wearing women's underthings?"  Asked the doctor.

  Arnie had to actually look down and see the panties to answer.  "Hum!  I guess only a few days," he said, somewhat confused by his own appearance.

  "There are ethical rules about proceeding too fast.  We need to have you doing these sorts of things for at least a year before we can proceed to any surgical solutions.  Marlie said that you've been doing this for at least a year," explained Doctor Alice Babson.

  "Oh yes, well that would be right then.  Marlie is always right.  Maybe I was thinking about the panties.  They're new," said Arnie, confused more by each minute.  He remembered being faster on his thinking, but for some reason his thinking seemed slurred more and more each day as if his IQ was slipping double digits.

  "OK.  A year then," said Alice, writing it down on her forms.

  "Yes, that would be right," confirmed Arnie, remembering that Alice had said Marlie had said it had been a year.

  "Have you been on any medication?"

  "No.  Does Marlie think I need to be on medication?"  Arnie asked.

  "That's the least of it.  She seems to have a whole list.  I know that she's your psychiatrist, but it does have to come out of your mouth," said Alice, growing worn at having to play middle person between Arnie and his shrink.

  "Whatever she put down there is what I want to do.  Can you just read it off?" Asked Arnie.

  "O ... K ....   Well, she says medication needs to be started.  That would be estrogen of course, progesterone, then oxytocin and a pinch of dong quai, among other things.  Thankfully that all comes in one neat pill, though the dosages and contents vary as we go along.  She mentioned face shaping, adam's apple, nose, brows, chin, hips and shoulders.  Major diet and liposuction, including lips.  You will look like someone different, in spite of any effort otherwise, after that much work.  Then she put some notes here about the need for breast implants once the breasts start to develop and we go through a process of skin stretching now to keep the breasts from looking like balloons, though some ... um ... women like that better than the bit of sag induced by stretching."

  "Finally she gets to gene therapy to help modify the pituitary system and other organs so they can begin to grow their own steroids and hormones, which ultimately allows you to stop relying upon drugs.  Of course the gene therapy, and much of the oral medicine isn't going to work without a previous castration."  The doctor paused, but Arnie just looked at her with an almost goofy smile that suggested he was not the least bit shocked.  "She included that almost as a PS, which is odd for a professional.  I advise against that for at least a year."

  "When we talked she expressed a desire to look into transplant research, uterus, fallopian tubes and ovaries.  That's will cost you big bucks and a penis.  The first chemical and basic plastic work is about fifty thousand, and at least five operations.  The second genetic and breast work is another fifty thousand, the genetics being eighty percent of that.  The organ transplant part is experimental.  I guess that's why she sent you to me, because I'm part of the team doing the first transplants, all to young women who have a ligitimate need to create children I might add.  I specialize in the exterior cosmetic work personally.  That's two hundred thousand on the cheap end.  And that, my wistful little friend, is at least a couple years of development for you because all of this other work has to take hold both physically and mentally before it can move forward.  So you see, perhaps it would be best to go back to Marlie and get down to how far you want to go with this.  This package isn't something you just sign up for; it's done in steps," explained the doctor.

  "I want to do what Marlie suggests," repeated Arnie like a broken record.

  "You have to be sure.  And, you have to be able to pay for it.  Most medical insurance won't touch this.  In fact, I can sometimes make it look like a person needs a little cosmetic surgery due to some disformity or injury, but in your case, considering where you intend to go, you'll be paying one hundred percent.  I won't be so silly as to try to cover for any of this because they'd see through it on the spot," advised the surgeon.

  "I have, or can get that much," Arnie said, figuring up the bonds, stocks, savings and asset worth of his condo apartment.

  "I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?"  Said Alice, giving up.

  "No.  You're not."

  "Well OK then.  I can't say it isn't going to be pleasurable making you up, considering how you made me feel after that date, but I'm not a sadist, and I run a fairly honest practice.  Things like inclusion on the experimental organ team only come to the ethical," said Alice.

  "What do you mean sadist?  Do you think I'm going to look ugly?"  Asked Arnie, suddenly worried about his amazingly handsome features.

  "Don't you worry about that, doll baby.  Handsome usually correlates to beautiful pretty nicely.  Well, let's sign these forms then, and get you some pictures.  I do a lot of computer morphing for ideas on the plastic.  In the mean time you're going on some medication.  Don't be surprised if your penis and testicles lose some size in a few days, which as I recall might make you about normal sized.  I'll trust you for the money, but when we start cutting I'll want twenty thousand to start.  I do my cutting at Mercy on Tuesdays.  If you're ready to dive right in, I'll set us up next week," said Alice, getting the forms from her desk and readying her photographic equipment.

  "Um.  Sure.  Marlie wants me to start," said Arnie, signing the first forms as if he were signing for cable TV.

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

  Linda looked at him odd, something of a morning staple, Arnie had grown to understand.  When he'd first hired her, she'd fawned over him as if she'd won the office lottery.  Then, after she'd picked up her dozenth phone call from women wanting to talk to Arnie, she'd known better, but still looked him over as if undressing him every time he passed.  Arnie was used to women looking him over that way, but ever since he'd started therapy with Marlie more than a year back, (it seemed but weeks to the blissful memory of Arnie) the looks had steadily changed; more like the way he looked at someone homeless.  "You have a visitor, uh, Mister Ryan," she said, nodding towards Arnie's office door.

  Arnie saw his father inside.  "Oh, hi dad," said Arnie.

  "Have a seat, son.  We have to talk," said his father, a man who was almost always all business; so much so that Arnie had little social interaction with his father, and considering the backwoods nature of his paternal vice presidency, even less business contact.

  "Sure.  What's up?"

  "You, I'm afraid.  I think you need to tell me what's going on?"

  "Going on?"

  "Look, let's stop beating about the bush.  I've lent you this job to learn the family business.  In the process I've put you in charge of three customers - only three customers.  These are high profile, but low maintenance customers, and yet all three have left us for our competitors in the last few months.  That effectively cuts your position.  I'm down here to figure out why, and from the looks of you I'm thinking I might already know.  What's going on?"  Repeated his father.

  "I honestly have no idea what to tell you," said Arnie, sitting at his seat behind the desk, a puzzled look on his face.

  "Are you gay!"  Finally spat his father.

  "Ha!  Of course not," said Arnie, shaking his head in disbelief that his father should ask such a question.

  "It wasn't exactly a question, son.  If you're not gay, then why exactly do you look like a member of the 'Culture Club'?  I mean, look at you boy.  You've obviously had surgery, and I swear you've developed breasts.  Even the clothing you wear is ... well, it's not even presentable on a female member of our company.  Don't we have a dress policy here?  Look, I have a fairly conservative clientele.  I have a business to run.  We can't have fags running this show.  I don't care if you are my son!"  Shouted his father.

  Arnie sat back in his chair, "Well, I just thought I needed some changes," confessed Arnie.

  "I'm going to have to let you go, son.  It's not working out.  I'll lose the whole ball of wax if I keep you," said his straight laced father.

  "You're kidding?"

  "I'll put it to you straight.  I've never abided fags in my office.  You know that.  It's bad for business, and it's not right.  I want the best for you son, but until you start acting like a man, you'll have to make it on your own.  Call it tough love if you have to.  Look at it this way, I gave you an education, and you're set for awhile with your savings and condo.  Go get yourself cleaned up and someone will hire you.  Maybe see a psychiatrist and get cured from this limp wristed fad you're playing with.  I know you can stop, cause I've seen you with the women.  But my god, man, do something, and do it somewhere else.  As for your mother, don't you think of stopping over until you've fixed yourself.  She's a church going Baptist.  It world kill her if she saw you like this," spat his father, leaving the room.

  "I've been fired?"  Arnie asked himself, feeling unjustly persecuted and turned out by his own family.  This was bad, real bad, he thought.  He reached into his purse, pulled out a compact mirror, and looked at himself.  Arnie had big, beautiful, pouting lips, no adam's apple to speak of, and he'd not seen a single hair in months.  He had a nice, thin, shaved chin bone, nothing like the handsome square jaw he'd had months prior, but he liked the change, and he knew that he still looked good.  The eyebrows were trimmed neat, he thought, and the lashes nice and long, so what was the problem?  In fact, the skin had never looked better.  Maybe it's the clothing, he wondered, looking down at the pink slacks that were neat and a perfect, slim fit.  He checked his zipper, and found it up, neatly done at the side.  God, he knew all kinds of people who would die for a figure like his, and his waist had to be an obscenely sexy twenty inches due to diet, corsetting and fat removal.  A nice, deep red floral shirt topped the ensemble.  He'd spent half an hour ironing the ruffles, so he knew it looked positively divine.

  Still puzzled at why his father should think him less than presentable, Arnie went to his private bathroom, and checked his hair.  The curls from his last permanent were still tight, and the whole package flowing nicely.  The golden dye didn't look the least bit bleachy.  Those little pink bows, Arnie, are the perfect touch, he complimented himself.  What in god's name was the matter with his father?  Maybe the lipstick didn't match, he thought.  "Oh god, that's it," he told himself, finding a tissue to wipe off the pink shade.  "It does match, but the pants are pink," he told himself, realizing that regardless of how nicely the lipstick had matched the slacks, it still was a cheap color for lips.  Arnie redid his lips, laying on a nice bright shade of candy cherry red.  "That's much better," he told himself, fixing a few curls as he shook out the hair in the mirror.  Dad must be losing it, he told himself.

  There wasn't a whole lot in his desk that seemed to appeal to him any more, so he piled it up by the trash can, only taking a few things with him as he passed by Linda for the last time.  She shook her head as if disgusted as he walked by.  Arnie thought, she'd never seemed like the company girl before, but maybe she was the one after his job now and maybe it had been she who had made things so bad with the customers.  Oh well, she could have the job if she wanted it, thought Arnie, his hips swaying seductively in his wake as he carried his load to the elevator.  He doubted that Marlie would be in the least bit upset that he'd lost the position because she never did like what he did, and that was what counted most of all.

  Arnie found his car in the lot, and put the few things he'd scavenged from the office into the hatchback.  He loved his used red Beetle.  It got great mileage and could go places his gold trimmed Mercedes never could.  Besides, his Mercedes had paid for the last surgery all by itself.  It's sale had even gone a long way towards the gene therapy.  Arnie sat in the driver's seat, and touched his healing stitches where it was smooth as a board between his penis and his virgin ass.  Marlie loved it when he went on about the new look between his penis and his virgin ass.  She was so kinky, he thought, knowing that, that was why he loved her professional advice so much.  Arnie started the car on the third try, a great plume of oily exhaust smoke rising after a backfire.  Slowly, the car picked up power as he rode the clutch.

  Good thing I've pre-paid for the experimental transplants already, thought Arnie, knowing that money was going to be tight now that he was unemployed.  He pulled up in front of the picture perfect reconditioned brownstone.  Out in front was a stack of furniture and clothing.  Arnie gasped as he noticed his new black leather skirt on top of the heap.  He ran to the pile, his heels snapping on the concrete as he ran.

  "My god!  What's going on?  I've been robbed?"  Arnie shouted into the neighborhood, several less upscale members of which were sorting through the rubble for things of interest.  "Shoo!  Go away," Arnie said, running with his hands flared out level with the sidewalk, his steps, cute small things as he ran from one thief to the other, trying to hustle them away.  It was like trying to fight off hyenas, the dogs circling to another part of the pile for something else to pilfer.

  "You're out.  I told you last week that you had two days.  People can't move in unless you're out, Arnie!"  Said a man Arnie recognized as the building superintendent, as he leaned by the front door of the brownstone.

  "Why?"  Screamed Arnie, grabbing his leather skirt, as well as a good two dozen other favorite pieces of clothing.

  "You sold the place, for Christ's sake.  I'm telling you, man, or whatever you are, you need to go see someone.  You need to go see a shrink.  You've lost it!"  Said the superintendent of the brownstone.

  "You didn't have to chuck my things out into the street like this!"

  "Sure I did.  I've been telling you to move for weeks.  How can someone move in if you're squatting?  Do you think I like this show out here in front of my building.  I'd much prefer to have seen you pull up a van and do it like a ..." the super was about to say man, but thought better of it.

  Arnie gave him one last scowl, and realized it was costing him his things arguing.  He found his dresser under the last layer of clothing, and dumped the drawers into the Beetle's trunk.  Then he went back for his curlers and other necessaries, swearing as he broke a heel in the process.  The super shook his head disbelieving as he watched Arnie focus on his feminine items, allowing a gang of thugs to walk off with a thirty inch TV and an antique grandfather clock.  When Arnie's 'bug' was topped off with his iron and portable board, he stood back and watched the pile dissect like a carcass in a desert full of vultures, dogs and ants.  When it was down to mop handles and dish rags, he got into his Beetle and drove away in a trail of smoke.

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

  "It's a good thing you came here first, Arnie," said Marlie in her office.  Arnie was lying back on her couch.  It was still mid morning, and Arnie was worried about the fact that his trunk hadn't latched, and was instead tied down.  What if someone in the parking lot untied it and took his best lingerie, he lamented as he laid there listening to the smooth words of his Mistress and psychiatrist.

  "Everyone kept telling me that I needed to come see you," he said, sighing.

  "Like who?"

  "Oh, my father, and that man who ran the building.  They said I needed to go see my shrink.  I'm sorry.  I know I'm messed up, and didn't mean to barge in on your schedule," he said, laying back on the couch.

  "Oh, well, I hope that I can help you.  Can you lie back and think of the room that I sent you to last time, Arnie?  It's right in front of you.  Can you hear the music?  Yes.  Slowly relax.  I'm going to count to ten now, and as I do you're going to move deeper into the room," said Marlie, slowly putting Arnie back into one of his deepest trances.

  "I have good news for you today, Arnie.  Doctor Babson's team has found a donor.  The woman is brain dead, and they expect to pull the plug on her this afternoon.  So you see, if you'd not lost your job, and been out at some client's business, you might have missed the news.  This is very fortunate for you, Arnie.  Soon you're going to be fulfilled.  Soon your whole life is going to come together, like one big one night stand.  Eternal fulfillment; the ultimate state of existence.  It's coming together for you this afternoon.  Now, there is going to be a long convalescence, first at the hospital, and then at my home, since you're now homeless," explained Marlie.

  "Your home, Mistress?"

  "Yes.  I'll have to take care of you until you heal.  Don't worry about a thing.  We'll work something out in exchange.  Besides, the medical bill is pre-paid.  Cheer up.  You're on the last leg now, Arnie.  I want you to be very excited about this.  This surgery is the ultimate conclusion for you.  You want it more than life itself.  Isn't that true, Arnie?"

  "Oh yes, Mistress," said Arnie, his breathing picking up as he grew excited.

  "Good.  So ... let's get up and go on over to the hospital for our female organs and new vagina.  You're going to really love having a working womb and vagina.  This is so exciting.  We want things to be fresh, so they've set up a room for you to wait until the donor expires.  Might as well get right on over there.  That's a good girl, stand on up.  I'll have someone pick up your car and sell it to pay for your stay with me, since you won't be able to drive anyway for the next couple of month, and as for us, we can go to the hospital together," said Marlie, guiding the man out the door, him still deep in his trance.

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

  It had hurt a lot, but now, six weeks after his last pain pill, Arnie sat in his room and admired how the fine patch of pubic hair around his vagina made him look and feel so sexy.  It had hurt so much that at times he'd wanted to die.  Coming out of the pain of the first two weeks had been like coming out of hell only to walk right into heaven.  Had it been worth it, wondered Arnie, admiring his nice new pussy?  He touched himself and felt the pleasure, though he couldn't understand why he seemed unable to orgasm, regardless of how horny he got, which was his state almost always now.

  They'd done his breasts at the same time.  He admired the heavy, jelly like wiggles of his bra, making his perpetual state of horniness even harder to endure.  Good thing they'd folded and stretched the skin for weeks prior to the operation, or he'd have had the tightness to contend with as well.  He took his breasts out of the support bra, and watched them sag nicely with their own weight.  It would take an x-ray to give away the fact that fifty percent of his breast mass was implant.  He was a beautifully, good as natural looking double D.  Oh, hell yes it had been worth it, he sighed, rocking back and forth so the breasts would jiggle.  In spite of the inability to orgasm, it was just too much fun tormenting himself with the thrill of his new body to allow himself to stop.

  "Oh, there you are," said Marlie, stepping into the doorway of his room.

  "How are you feeling?"  She asked.

  "For the tenth day, perfect.  I feel like going out jogging," said Arnie.

  "So you can watch those monster tits jiggle, no doubt, but you need to make sure that your uterus and ovaries stay tight before you to aerobics.  Give it a few more days.  It would never do to have a hysterectomy with the cost of all of that plumbing.  Maybe you should settle for a little walking first," suggested Marlie.

  "Sounds wonderful, Mistress," said Arnie, slipping his breasts back into his bra, and pulling up the top half of his fun little yellow sun dress.  He really liked the way his bra straps showed parallel to the sun dress's even thinner straps; so low class slutty he thought.  For a girl, Arnie was tall at five seven, and the huge tits had the dress hanging out from his body so Arnie could feel several inches of air space in front, making his rounder hip, trim tummy and pink pussy feel vulnerably open.  Marlie called him leggy.

  "I want us to go to my car first, so we can find just the right place to walk, OK?"

  "Sure," said a compliant Arnie.

  "As we walk I'm going to count.  Every set of the way, the world will grow a little hazier, and then when you sit down in my car, you will be very relaxed.  Do you understand, Arnie?"

  "Yes, Mistress," said Arnie, already deep in trance, but not as deep as Marlie wanted him to be.

  "Yes, one, two, three ...." she counted as they went to the car.  Arnie sat down, zombie like.

  "Good.  Now, where we are going to walk is special.  You will really like it there.  You will get so infatuated with walking there that you will find it something you'll want to do all night.  After that you'll get another street each night because you have to move around to do it right.  Think of it as sort of a one night stand.  Do you understand me, Arnie?"  She asked, the sun going down as she drove.

  "Yes, Mistress," said Arnie.

  "Good.  While I drive, I want you to look at yourself, Arnie.  What kind of tits do you have, Arnie; boy or girl?"

  "Girl, Mistress," said Arnie.

  "Feel your pussy.  That's a good girl.  Put your finger inside, and feel how wonderful it feels when you stimulate your nerves.  What kind of pussy is that, Arnie?"

  "A girl's, Mistress."

  "Excellent.  Can you feel your skin, your hair, your lips.  Lick those lips, Arnie.  What kind are they?"

  "A woman's Mistress," confessed Arnie, his mind somewhat confused.

  "What are you, Arnie?"

  "I'm Arnie.  I'm a woman?  No, that's not right," said a confused Arnie.

  "Don't you think that Arnie is to masculine?  I mean, I know what you are, Arnie.  I've made you this way.  I've made you into a woman.  You didn't want to, but I made you think you wanted to, Arnie.  Do you remember that?  Do you remember how popular and rich you was as a man, Arnie?  I want you to remember that, Arnie.  I want you to remember how you came to my office that first time, and wanted to tell me off.  Do you remember that, Arnie?"  Asked Marlie, driving towards the city's west side.

  "Yes.  I wanted to tell you to stop harassing me.  I came to your office, and then I changed my mind," said Arnie.

  "Yes, only you didn't change your mind, Arnie.  I changed it for you.  I put together some subliminal music, and as you sat in front of my spiraling picture, you went under.  To varying degrees you've been under ever since.  I made you want to want me, and then I slowly made you into a woman.  Now look at yourself, Arnie, and tell me what you are," said Marlie.

  "You did this to me?  You did this to me!  What have you done?  I look like a woman," said Arnie, for the first time seeing himself for what he was, a freak, a whole different person; no longer the spoiled rich gigolo.

  "Ha.  Yes, I did this to you.  Your father kicked you out, and you've lost everything.  Now you're just a penniless bitch.  Maybe you can find yourself a one night stand, Arnie.  You know, a nice lay for a nice bed.  If you're really good, he might even feed you some supper.  Don't count on breakfast in this town though, Arnie.  It's not usually on the menu," tormented Marlie.

  "God!"  Breathed Arnie.

  "She's not listening.  But, to be honest, she did make you into one hell of a nice looking man, and now with my help and with a little help from science, a fine looking cunt.  Too bad you can't get that penis back, or that square jaw.  Hell, even if they could do that kind of surgery, you'd never be able to pay for it.  No, you're a man in a woman's body.  I want you to remember that, and I doubt you'll have much of a problem with forgetting it.  I want you to know that as hard as you can know a thing, Arnie.  You're a man!  You love bedding women!  You love one night stands!  Do you see that, Arnie," said the psychiatrist, glancing over as she drove, seeing Arnie slipping out of his hypnotic trance.

  "You can't get away with this!  You bitch!"  Squealed Arnie in a very tight, Betty Boop voice.  For some reason he seemed more awake than he'd felt in months.  Then he realized it was because he was no longer under Marlie's spell.  She'd done all of this to him, and somehow put him into a fog that didn't allow him to see until just then.  What was he going to do?  He was angry, but the new hormones, now being generated by his own organs, wouldn't allow him to beat the hell out of her like he might have as a man.  In fact, all he could manage to do was break down in tears, the salty flow seemingly easily had and ample.  Still, he should have been able to at least slap Marlie.  There must still be some kind of implanted suggestions, he believed, wondering what else she'd implanted deep into his mind?

  "Now, now.  Don't cry, Arnie.  I've done what I can to help you out.  In fact, right up here we can stop and get out and you'll see what I mean," soothed Marlie, pulling the car over.  She got out, and then came around, holding the door open for Arnie.  He got out, reluctantly, feeling his new heels as if for the first time.  There was a draft up his yellow dress and an odd new awareness of something missing between his legs.  Marlie reached in to the back seat, and handed Arnie his cherry red purse, the small one with the long strap.  "You'll look good in these nice cheap sunglasses," said Marlie, putting the pair on Arnie's face.  He was too weak from horror to keep her from doing it.  "And, I do love the way those garters look when they peak under that short dress.  They're just going to love you, dear."

  "What are we doing here?  Who's going to love me?"

  "Why they are, sweetheart.  Don't you see them looking at you already," said Marlie, pointing out to the street where several cars had slowed down, the drivers looking down through the passenger window at Arnie as he stood on the sidewalk.

  "You mean men?  This is disgusting.  Please, take me home," said Arnie.

  "Don't think so.  You lost your home.  Remember?  I can't keep you as a guest forever.  I think you said it best a couple years ago when you said ... what was that ... oh yes, you said, "I don't think that things between us are meant to be.  I'm sorry, but I just think it's best if I come right out and say it before things go too far."  Well, I understand what you meant now.  But, don't worry; I have made arrangements for you," said Marlie, getting back into the driver's seat of her car.

  "What are you talking about?"  Asked Arnie, leaning into the passenger window.

  "Don't worry, honey.  He'll be by in a minute.  Look, it's really easy.  Just do what he says, and go with the flow.  He'll take care of you; I promise.  It's his job.  Oh, by the way, you're already pretty good at leaning into the passenger window.  I think you're going to be a natural.  If not, I made sure to put a few things in your head that might help you adjust," said Marlie, starting the car.

  "Job?  Adjust?  You've got me looking like a whore.  I don't want to meet anyone looking like this!"  protested Arnie.

  "But Arnie, don't you remember?  You like one night stands.  You love always having someone new.  I'd think this was the perfect occupation for a woman like you.  I'm just trying to help.  See you around, Arn.  Maybe I'll drive by once in awhile.  Try to keep a stiff upper lip.  Especially on the blowjobs.  They don't like teeth," said Marlie, putting the car into gear, and driving away, leaving Arnie standing in the gutter.  Arnie took one step forward, and then slowly spun around three hundred and sixty degrees.

  Arnie stood frozen for another few second, and then turned again, looking up one side and then the other of the street.  It was dark, and a perfect sidewalk for criminals.  She was worried about rape more than anything, as the first customer pulled up in exactly the same spot as Marlie had left.  He rolled down his passenger side mirror, and leaned over.  "Want to go for a ride?"  He asked.

  "No!  Fuck off!"  Screamed Arnie, backing up over the curb and up to the steamy brickface wall.  The car screeched off in anger.  Arnie stood in the shadow of the wall, hoping to blend in, and contemplating which direction seemed safest to run.  Up one walk was what looked like a loitering gang of Hispanics.  Up the other way a tall black man with old acne scars a quarter inch deep strode in her direction with street wise confidence.

  She cringed as the black man got close.  It was warm out, but he wore a long leather coat anyway, and then stopped right in front of Arnie, as if formenting her worst nightmare.  His hand fell back, and then whipped across Arnie's cheek.  The smack made a sound that echoed down the road, and nearly put Arnie on the sidewalk.  She touched her face with one hand, and held out the other in defense.  The tall black man grabbed the defensive arm, and twisted it around her back.

  "You my bitch now.  I see you tell a payin man to fuck off one mo time, an I make you eat shit for a week, cause you not be able to lift you ho ass out of dat gutter.  You hear me, bitch?  I pays good money for you, and I spect to see good money flowin right outa you pussy.  You gets me, bitch?"  Shouted the man, as if pimping was a proud profession that everyone needed to know about.  The boys a block down the street seemed to think so, as they laughed, a few of their buddies joining the others on the sidewalk to look at Arnie's lesson.

  "Please," begged Arnie through his tears, aware that she had no instinct to fight back, and that Marlie had done that to her.

  "What?  You stupid or what?  Bend down, bitch!  I gonna show you what you good fo," said the illiterate man, pushing Arnie up over a trash can.  She felt his off hand pull down her panties, and throw up her skirt in one motion while he still held her one arm behind her painfully.  The trash can reeked as she was pushed over it.  It took more time for the pimp to fumble with his zipper, though only half a minute, fishing out a monster penis.  He kicked her feet until they were two feet apart.

  "Now, you learn, ho.  Put you ass up here!  You rememba, dis is what you do, and dis is all you good fo for now on!"  Advertised the pimp, dry plowing his penis deep inside of Arnie's virgin cunt.  Arnie couldn't believe that she was being raped; by a man who she still regarded as a stranger.  To make matters worse, she knew that deep inside her brain she was somehow still a man, though nothing anatomically could support the concept.  Yes, I'm still a man, thought Arnie, feeling the pleasurable sensations of being fucked for the first time, mixed with the overwhelmingly stronger feeling of lost power that constituted the horror of being raped in the street like a stray dog.  Nobody else seemed to think it odd though, every witness realizing that she was his whore, and he her pimp, implying some kind of third world ownership.  Over to the side, the boys were lined up, enjoying the show.  Cars behind her were partially shielded by the parked cars, but she knew that some were seeing occasional shots of the action as they drove by.  After a few minutes, she felt herself getting wet inside, not from her own lust, but from the man's penis as it pulsed out its sperm discharge.  The sperm tingled as if swimming.

  "You remember what done this.  You a good lookin piece of cunt.  I spect two hundred from dat pussy by midnight.  Now, get to work," said the pimp, pulling out and wiping his penis on Arnie's panties before handing them to her.  Arnie looked around flustered, her knees weak from the rape, her mouth agap with shock, holding the panties in her hand.  Her face was a mess from crying.  She saw her reflection in a closed business's window, and saw her mascara streaked under the sunglasses.  Something deep inside of her couldn't bear to look ugly, so she stuffed the glasses into her purse and wiped the black off with her panties before putting the panties back on, sliding them up past her heels, stockings and garters, the legs almost endlessly sex magnets, she realized.  She knew then that the compulsion to always look good must have been one more of Marlie's implanted phobias.

  "Dat's better, bitch.  Now, I was gonna call you Angel, but seein how you tell a customer to fuck off, I gonna call you Assho till you show me da money.  Go on, walk around, an not on dis part of the boardwalk either, Assho; out front by da light where da can sees you!  Go on, get out!"  Said the pimp, smacking Arnie on the ass.  She scooted to the front of the curb, and walked, realizing that swaying her hips had now become too natural to dismiss.

  Up inside of her, Arnie could feel the cum.  She tightened her new vaginal muscles, her body unwilling to let the fluid out.  Why am I doing that, she wondered, knowing that a good dooche might help reduce her chances of pregnancy at least a little.  She wanted to stop the fluid, to get it out before too many of the sperm made their way up her transplanted fallopian tubes, but some natural instinct seemed to be preventing her from relaxing her freshly deflowered vaginal muscles, as if she wanted to become pregnant.  Of course that was ludicrous, she lamented, still unable to relax and let the sperm leak.

  Arnie looked into her purse, and shuffled the few cosmetic items around, finding no sign of birth control pills.  "Oh god," she moaned, standing still, her purse clutched tight in both hands at her stomach, her eyes wide with freight, as she imagined that she could feel the sperm swimming up into her uterus.  "What has Marlie done to my mind?"  she mouthed, understanding that lingering suggestions had her fantasizing about endless babies, one after the other, sucking on her breasts until each impoverished child made middle school, as she wasted away in some two room trailer so full of kids that the welfare people had to come around every so often just to thin the herd, her breasts sagged to her navel so badly that she was worthless for anything better than two bit blow offs.

  "I said, do you want to fuck?"  A balding old man said from his car.  Arnie focused, on the car that had stopped just in front of him, marveling at how she'd missed the customer due to her tormented revelation.  "How much for a blow job?"  He went on to ask as she stood there looking down at the potential customer.

  "Fifty buck," said Arnie, as if the words had also been a plant.  Blow job, kept ringing in his ears, as if the words were some kind of hypnotic trigger, sending him into a trance.  Yes, the way Marlie had taken it so deep into her throat, had been hypnotic, he remembered.  The way her eyes glowed up at him as she sucked, pleading.  It was incredible the way she'd looked when she'd done that to him on that first date, he remembered.  She had cow eyes that glowed at him as if not seeing a thing, but just sensing the organ inside of her.  So cow eyed, wide and seeing sort of nothing, not really there, as if the whole universe was attached to the head of that cock rubbing her tonsils, and she was really looking around inside of that cave, spellbound!

  The man's ugly fat cock came so deep inside of her throat that she didn't even taste it.  Marlie felt cheated as the man handed her his fifty, and looked over his shoulder for any cops.  Arnie got out, the man not even willing to give her a lift out of the alley.  She should have been able to at least taste it, she thought, putting the money into her purse.  The desire to have tasted it fought for favor between bouts of revulsion as the memory of her male core kept creeping back to torment her.  I'm a man, she thought, and not at all gay.  But of course, if she didn't yield to the whore trance, the pimp would surely beat her, she understood, removing her panties and again wiping away the wet mascara runs.  That done, the resigned whore stepping back into the now filthy undergarment as Assho walking dutifully back to her one night stand.

  The End