Maid to Measure

by Sarah Forth

  B - Another blow

  That Amsterdam trip only lasted a couple of days but he realised that we were serious. He was very contrite when he got back although I was sure that he was still keeping something back. Even so, we were nearly there. The boys who had taken him, and been with him while Margret had used him, told me about his experience there and gave me another clue about him. They hadn’t been able to understand why he would be reluctant to leave the window - they even suggested that he was enjoying himself, but I guessed differently. I had almost decided what I would do with him when I had finally got everything out of him and that news added extra spice to the idea which had been forming in my mind. It would take quite a lot of time and I wanted to be sure that we had got all that he knew before then. He had already let slip that he could do nothing to hurt us for at least three months, and had confirmed this in so many ways that it seemed fairly safe to rely on it. So I had to work fast but also be patient. The next stage would just be temporary but it would be as convincing as we could make it. Getting hold of the drugs and pills was fairly easy but it would take a little while to wear down and rearrange that muscle - we didn’t want him too strong for the next stage. Keeping him half sedated most of the time and controlling his diet while preventing him from getting exercise was enough to weaken him for the next stage. And we could do a bit more than just shave his eyebrows! Margret’s devices could be refined a little. This bit was going to be expensive but I had too much at stake to worry about that. I was going to win.

  A - More humiliation

  I was moved back to the mansion and then seemed to spend many days drifting in and out of consciousness. I was always in a bed when I did become conscious although I am sure that the bed and the room itself changed several times. I was never sufficiently in charge of my faculties to move, to get out of the bed or even to eat independently, although I do remember being given slops and drinks. Several times I was aware of being connected to tubes and machines. I had strange dreams although I cannot remember being questioned again. I am sure that I was still sufficiently in charge of myself at least to have remembered; and I remember reminding myself every time I came round to tell them only what I had already given them. Even in my dreamy state, I was able to think up some ideas that might distract them when they started again. That at least seemed certain - they would start again. I had to be strong, stronger than I had been until now. I couldn’t afford to give them anything more.

  I seemed to come out of that state very slowly, only half aware of my surroundings as the world I could see became steadier. I was aware of changes although it took me longer to work out what had happened that it takes to record. I was no longer naked but my skin was smooth and hairless. Fixed to my chest were two plastic breasts while my manhood was cramped up between my legs somehow. I was wearing a tiny pair of pink knickers and a ‘baby doll’ night-dress top. And somehow, those tiny knickers were able to conceal all the male parts of me, parts which had never been so constrained before, even during that trip to Amsterdam. My face had also been expertly shaved because I did not have my usual morning stubble. Trying to pull the boobs off my chest was useless and painful, they were glued somehow which felt very permanent. And I could not work out how to release my parts from the strapping which seemed to hold me so securely inside those knickers . Not only could I not work out how I was fixed but I found that my fingers were considerably less useful than usual - each one ended in a long scarlet nail, either my own painted or something artificial glued on. I wanted to get out of the bed and strip the whole collection off but before I could properly control my movements, a woman came into the room. I shrank under the bedclothes to hide myself from her but she was determined and persistent. Not only that but I saw that she was accompanied by another woman and a large man.

  Editor’s reconstruction.

  ‘Now then Sarah dear, time to get up. Will we do it nicely together or shall I get Pedro to help us? If you promise to behave properly, I’ll make him wait outside but I know that he would enjoy playing with you - and he’s very strong. Since this is going to be a special day for you, I think it would be nice if we could send him away but it’s up to you my dear.’ The woman was dressed in a nurse’s uniform and looked both capable and strong, as indeed she was. She had spent several years working in a prison hospital and was quite capable of looking after herself. Although the words she used were relatively friendly, she managed to convey the threat that was implied and to convince A that resistance was not likely to meet with much success. She had the support of another nurse and a large, hairy brute of a man. He was Pedro, one of the gardeners, He didn’t entirely understand what was going on but he did think that A was a woman and he had been led to believe that ‘she’ fancied him. Although he was very strong he was not the cleverest man in the world and in fact had very little experience of women. But the threat was enough. A agreed to ‘behave herself’ and so Pedro, reluctantly withdrew to wait outside if he was needed. Quite what he might be needed for had not apparently been explained to him - he rather believed that it was the woman in the bed who might want him.

  The five weeks of enforced idleness and his restricted diet had considerably weakened him physically. It had had the effect of reducing much of the muscle he had been so proud of before. Now his arms were more fat than muscled and his chest had lost that strong manly barrel shape. The measured doses of oestrogens had started to alter the distribution of that fat. The actual shape of his body had still not altered appreciably but with artificial breasts glued firmly to his chest and with similar artificial padding on his hips, his figure looked decidedly more feminine than when he had seen it last. Martha’s skill and strength were hardly going to be tested if he should decide to resist her and she always had support as well as the possible assistance of Pedro to deter him. ‘Come on now, Sarah, out of bed like a good girl. We’ve got a lot to do this morning and we want you to enjoy your day. You can’t enjoy it by lying here in bed. Or can you? I think that you’re waiting for Pedro after all. Ooh, you sexy little hussy.’ The extra threat was enough. He let them help him out of bed, let them strip off the shortie nightie and even the little knickers. The strapping which held his maleness firmly in place between his legs was hardly visible - a web of flesh coloured nylon tape. Sheepishly he stood while a brassiere was fitted over his chest, the artificial breasts snuggled into place before it was fastened behind his back. ‘Look now Sarah, isn’t that better? Doesn’t it hold you up nicely? And look at the little crease. That makes them look absolutely real, doesn’t it? It was true. The way the bra’ held those artificial breasts upward and forward caused the front of his chest to be squeezed together. And the fatty flesh creased to create an impression of cleavage, emphasising the feminine appearance. This was heightened when a boned girdle was slipped around his waist and fastened from behind, with Martha’s assistant then spending several minutes tightening the laces, shrinking his already reduced waist still further. The suspenders which dangled from the girdle were quickly attached to a pair of sheer, almost white stockings with a delicate tracery of darker lace at the tops. As she fastened the suspenders, Martha stroked her hand up between his legs, holding him firmly with her other hand as he tried to move himself away. She eased her finger through the little hole in the restraining netting and explained to him that he would need to sit down during the day if he wished to relieve himself. Only then was he allowed a pair of white lacy panties. ‘Now remember Sarah, you will need to take these down when you go to the toilet and you may splash rather more than usual. Just make sure that you don’t wet your knickers. And make sure that you hold your skirt and slip well out of the way too.’ He was already cringing with embarrassment which was only made worse when he was given the full waist petticoat, a froth of net and lace, just above knee length. His resistance did not prevent them from slipping the fresh white, short sleeved frilled blouse over his shoulders. The deep, frilled vee at the front framed the artificial cleavage th
ey had created, drawing attention to that hallmark of femininity. Martha spent a few minutes adjusting the blouse and tucking it into the full pink skirt which was held out so provocatively by the underslip. The finishing touch was a broad white elastic belt which emphasised the small waist they had created for him.

  A - Capitulation

  I dreaded the thought of that great ugly man seeing me in bed dressed like that and hated to even imagine how he might enjoy ‘playing with me’. It had been humiliating in that window but now there wasn’t even a pane of glass between us. So I held the covers up to my chest and told her that I would be ‘good’. Pedro was sent to wait outside in some foreign language which might have been Spanish or Portugese. Then I had to let her uncover me. I really don’t know how long I had been kept sedated while they had moved me here but I know that I felt weak, certainly too weak to resist her busy strength. Despite the horror which filled every part of me while it happened, they were able to strip off the night-dress and knickers and start to dress me completely as a woman. A brassiere was slipped over those artificial breasts, holding them proudly forward and together. As they were squeezed together, I could see that the flesh of my chest was also pulled together, creating an impression of cleavage between them. Then, one of them slipped a boned girdle around my waist and fastened it behind me, hooking it together somehow and then gradually tightening it more and more. White suspenders dangled from it and they made me sit down on the bed while they rolled sheer pale stockings up my shaved legs and fastened them to the suspenders. I had to stand and step into a pair of lacy white briefs. As I stood there, the older of the two women slipped her hand between my legs and pressed upwards. I knew that everything I had was pushed up inside but still there as she squeezed and she explained that I would have to sit down to pee - ‘make sure that you keep your knickers well out of the way, we don’t know which way you are pointing and you wouldn’t like an accident, would you?’ I wanted to fight her but I felt too weak. Even when I struggled, the two of them handled me as easily as they might a baby who didn’t want to wear a clean nappy. Why they should have thought they needed Pedro I couldn’t imagine. So they were able to dress me in a full, frilly white waist slip, a knee length pink skirt which was held out by the slip and one of those flimsy blouses which I had seen in Sandra’s wardrobe. The blouse was tucked down inside the skirt and then a wide white elastic belt fitted round my waist. They pushed me down on the bed again and fitted a light white high heeled sandal on each foot, strapping them firmly around my ankles.

  I did resist more effectively for a time when they tried to put make-up on my face. But they had an answer for that. I was pushed down in a sort of dentist’s chair and my head was fixed in a clamp which prevented any further movement. Yes, I could screw up my face, close my eyes, clamp my mouth shut but such tactics were not very successful. The older one produced a hypodermic syringe and gave me the alternative. ‘One way or another, whether you want it or not this will happen. You can continue to fight us in which case we’ll give you this, finish the make-up, do your hair and then leave you here for Pedro and who knows who else to play with until you wake up, or you can relax. That way at least will keep Pedro and his friends out of your knickers.’ In the end, it wasn’t even worth struggling against the clamp. I knew that resistance would be useless and would in any case lead to something which seemed far worse. So they were able to complete their work on my face and then clip the sparkling earrings to my ears and loop the brightly coloured beaded necklace round my neck.

  When they had finished, they stood back to admire their work. I was still firmly held in the chair but they oohed and aahed, cooed in delight at their triumph. ‘Oh Sarah, you really are a pretty girl. You’ll send all the boys wild. I don’t know how we’ll be able to keep Pedro away from you. But you mustn’t sit with your legs open and your skirt hitched up like that, everyone can see your knickers. They’re very pretty knickers but you know what the sight of a girl’s knickers does to a man.’ Then they laughed even more as I clasped my knees together and struggled to push the skirt down over my knees.

  They let me out of the chair and led me over to stand in front of the mirror. It was horrible. Anyone looking at me might really believe that I was a girl. The full skirt was held out by the petticoat, the white belt emphasising the slim waist they had created with that girdle. My arms were smooth and hairless, my legs somehow re-shaped and made more feminine by those shoes. And I could barely recognise my face. It was framed with long flowing blonde waves. Every time I moved my head, I could feel the hair brushing my cheeks and the earrings pulling at my ear lobes as they tinkled, laughing at me as I stood in feminised humiliation. The mascara and eyeshadow they had applied made my eyes seem larger, unless it was the tears of helpless frustration and humiliation which welled there.

  ‘Now, we are going down to meet the other house guests. Some of them you may know already although it is unlikely that anyone will recognise you like this - unless you want them to of course. We have told everyone that you are recovering from a throat operation so that you cannot talk at all. If you do, you will almost certainly be recognised as a man. Similarly, removing your clothes might have the same effect so unless that is what you want, be careful. Or on the other hand, some man might take it as an invitation! Anyway one of us will not be far away, ready to give you a discreet shot and bring you back to Pedro, who will be waiting for you impatiently! Do you understand? Are you coming or would you rather just stay here with Pedro?’ Just to reinforce the threat she called out to Pedro who shambled into the room. I saw the way his eyes lit up when he looked at me and I heard her giving him some instructions. I did not understand all the words but her actions seemed crystal clear. She pointed at me as she spoke, at her watch and made a gesture which somehow seemed to give him conditional freedom to do whatever he wanted with me if I should return to the room before the time she had indicated. To reinforce the message, she repeated it slowly and loudly in English - ‘Not now Pedro, but if she comes back without us, it will be because she wants you. Then you can do what you like, because that will be what she wants.’ He looked almost pathetically eager, his mouth almost watering as he inspected me, nodding excitedly. His hand reached out and almost caught my arm but she slapped it away and pointed again at her watch. ‘Not yet, Pedro, she’s not ready for you yet. When she comes back. You wait here for her until she comes. Yes, she’s lovely and she does like you, but you’ll have to be a little patient. She’s just a bit shy, that’s all.’ I had been incapable of resisting them in my weakened state and it was clear that I would be even less capable of keeping him off me once he thought he had permission. And while I dreaded the thought of what he might do to me while he thought I was a woman, what he might do if he found out that I wasn’t was even more frightening. So I accepted the humiliation of the ‘treat’ B had prepared for me, or had me prepared for, and agreed to behave myself

  B - The last lap

  I could hardly believe my eyes when they brought ‘her’ in. ‘She’ looked so real. ‘Her’ legs looked so real, stunning in the fifties style skirt which Sandra had left with us and with the full, lace edged, net petticoat showing provocatively whenever ‘she’ turned too quickly or when she sat down - delightful. Now and again the skirt would flare out at those twirling movements so that it was possible to see the extra shading as the tops of the stockings darkened and there seemed always to be possibility that you would be able to see even higher, see the flash of whiteness above the stocking tops or catch a glimpse of ‘her’ knickers, especially as ‘she’ came down the stairs. And the effect of those stick on boobs has to be seen to be believed. I almost wanted to touch them myself, and I knew what was underneath. So I could really enjoy the sight of the other men, the ones who didn’t know, drooling over ‘her’. To make sure that ‘she’ is properly careful and fully embarrassed, I have invited Armstrong, the reporter from the Sunday tabloid part of my empire. Armstrong knows A quite well
and has a good nose for a sex story, and I know that A knows it too. He also likes the chance to chat up the birds and I can see that ‘she’ will have difficulty keeping him off, looking as ‘she’ does. Martha, the senior ‘nurse’ has told me how effective the threat of Pedro has been. I felt sure that it would work and I am also sure that this day will really soften ‘her’ up. We shall break ‘her’ during the next few days. But I wonder whether just the threat of Pedro will be enough to get the rest from ‘her’. I can’t resist thinking about what else I can do now. And it is so amusing to tease ‘her’. ‘She’ is so terrified of being exposed like this and having a few men here who have met him reinforces his submission. I think that I have really got him now. And yet every time I look at ‘her’, I find it more difficult to think of him inside there.