The Red Crop

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I had finally reached the location, where a friend of mine had placed the girl who had run away from me.

Of course, I could not have that. In fact, I can have none of it. No girl runs away from me, and a girlfriend of mine belongs to me.

I will have to discipline her, later; once I had gotten her back home, that is. Quite harshly.

But, before I could do any of that; I would have to catch her, so I can take her back home. I had thought, that would have been easy. A cakewalk, as it were. It should have been.

Approaching the building itself did not offer any problems, but that had never been expected in the first place; so I walk up to the door, promptly sliding up for me as if I had been expected.

“Clop, clop; clop, clop; clop, clop..” is heard, as I am walking over the floor.

Should I have been surprised, by the white stone floor I am walking over, on my way to the desk? Maybe, or maybe not; but I did not let this get to me, at least not just yet. I am not in the habit, of permitting anything get in my way.

Maybe one or two had found it inconvenient, or found a less than fortunate fate; but it is who I am, and how I am reacting to things. This had served me well, this far at least.

“Welcome to the Red Crop!” the girl behind the desk exclaims, in her usual excitable voice.

“If you place the palm of your hand, onto my desk; so I can process your request?” she offers.

She had been neither demanding, nor pleading; merely helpful, informative, which is taking me aback by its pure bluntness.

She does not fear me, but is acting with an inherent respect I had rarely to never been exposed to before; which is further confusing me, as I am trying to process the changed situation I could never have anticipated.

“She has the discipline of an Assassin, and the patience of a Saint; coupled with the excitement of a Child..” I ponder, as I mindlessly follow her instructions to the letter.

How could I have known the Mistress, behind her grueling training; the dungeon, into which I had just set foot?

“The design is hot, while it should have been cold to the touch; while the solid surface could never have pulled me in!” I ponder, as I am spreading the fingers of my right hand.

“Perfect..” she chimes; “take the door to the right!” she continues, pointing me into the direction I need to take.

“Thank you, Miss!” I respond, finding myself dumbfounded under the gaze of her discipline.

I pull my hand back, take a step back; before I turn in the direction she had indicated, following the path she had dictated for me.

I step out, fresh from the shower. The room does look surprisingly luxurious, to me. Not what I had been expecting, but I guess I can enjoy being proven wrong. At least, if I am not paying for it in any manner. This far, I had been given a treat.

“If you were to step up onto the gurney, please; so that you can enjoy, what I have to offer!” the Mistress instructs me.

“Yes, Mistress; thank you, of course!” I respond, as I step right up onto the gurney she had indicated.

From the looks of the gurney, this is promising me something. Not that I had been expecting it, or anything; but if she is prepared to lend me a hand, to take the stress off of my shoulders. Who am I to complain, or protest?

Just as I lie down, making myself comfortable; she is producing a crop, she is presenting to me.

“Lick it!” she demands.

“Yes, Mistress!” I merely respond, as I comply.

“I certainly can appreciate discipline, when I face it; even in a Mistress, as imposing as the girl I have before me!” I realize, despite myself.

“I notice that you can appreciate discipline!” she states, as a matter of observation.

“Yes, Mistress; Discipline, is something I can appreciate!” I respond.

“Excellent, then I believe you will find yourself right at home!” she offers.

The next moment, I sense the touch of her crop; as she is smacking my rump, with the crop I had just licked. I just fail to realize the significance, as my romp slowly grows plump and luxurious. I would have appreciated the looks, and the change; had it not been for the act, that it is my very own body. I have always been proud of my physique.

She is trailing the length of my spine, with the crop; just as she had finished, smacking my rump. It had been hard and firm, now it is growing soft and plush. It’s starting to become embarrassing; had I realized, what she is doing to me.

Of course, if only this had been the end of what she is just smacking be down with. Which, it is not. Not by a long shot.

“I hope, you are comfortable!” she offers.

“Excellent..” she exclaims; “Excellent!” she echoes, in a measured voice worthy of a true Mistress.

Now she is slapping my right and left shoulder, with the crop; as she is looking down upon me, with approval clearly in her eyes.

The change incurred is less noticeable, than the one she applied to my rump; but it is there nonetheless, as my shoulders are less pronounced square as she is done.

I feel her touching my right hand, before drawing the crop all the way up the arm; before she is slapping me on the left hand, drawing the crop all the way up the left arm in turn. The effect does not wait for me to explore it, as my arms are becoming rounder and softer in a more pronounced effeminate form than I am comfortable with.

She is catching my hair, twirling what little I have around the crop and gives it a short tug; making my hair grow considerably longer, with the invested effort on her part.

“Now, if you would just turn on your back; so you can enjoy this to the fullest!” she is pronouncing, making me comply, before I had even realized it.

Such is the power of her presence; the strength of her discipline, I could not resist her.

She is looking down upon me, with growing approval; as she is performing, and I dance to her tune.

It takes me a few good minutes, to turn myself over to lie on my back; but in the process I am realizing, I am enjoying her presence more and more. While she is changing my body, but my personality and preferences have not been changed at all; at least, not yet. Maybe exposure to the new body would change my preferences; but that is not her doing.

“Now; close your eyes, please!” she instructs me.

As I do, I feel the crop touching the right and left eyelid in turn; before she is placing the crop over my lips, for a full minute. Naturally; she had to touch my right and left cheek, before she is continuing. With that, she had left me with a completely feminine face; I can’t deny it, but I have to see it with my own eyes to know.

“There is a painful whack, hitting me on the throat; there goes one more part of my manly appearance!” I realize, in pain.

The tip of the crop touches my nipples, right and left; whipping up the volume of a pair of fairly large and plumb breasts.

“Ow!” I consider; “She really is dead set on what she is up to; but I do no longer possess the strength, to resist her!”I realize.

“Open your eyes; prepare to behold, your new self!” she is instructing me.

While I am opening my eyes, I notice her performing a flourish with the crop; as she is ultimately taking the very symbol of my manliness and leaves me with the bare mound upon which the orchid is in clear bloom. My body, clearly betraying me; in the act of ultimate spite, of who I had been for so many years. I will no longer be able to go out, showing my face on the street.

As I watch, she is smacking me on the right hand, before she is tracing one finger at the time, from thumb to pinkie finger. Naturally, she had to repeat the process; as my hands slowly are turned feminine.

She is indeed a true Mistress, with all the power that comes with it; able to make even the most masculine, match man into a girl in a matter of minutes without even breaking him in the process.

“Sit up, please; my girl, so I can properly look at you!” she pronounces.

I sit up, on the side of her gurney; facing her as I do, on the right side. She is looking at me, appraisingly; in her manner, as the Mistress she is.

“Oh, yes..” she mumbles; “there is one final detail, I will simply have to fix..” she offers, as she is patting me on the nose with the tip of her crop.

She is walking around me, stopping behind my back; before she is applying the crop, pulling my hair out to the full length she had intended all along.

“There..” she proclaims; “Perfect!” she concludes.

“Oh!” I merely mouth, where I am sitting, on the right side of her gurney.

“Beautiful, quite beautiful; if I can say so myself!” she responds.

Now she is walking back, to face me; looking me over, once more.

“How do I look?” I inquire; scared to know, what I am actually looking like right now.

Still, there is no escaping her changes; she had changed me, and there is nothing I could do about it.

“Stunning, just stunning..” she points out; “I guess, you would love to see for yourself!” she points out; “Go, go; have a look, the mirror is right there!” she explains, indicating where I need to go in order to see.

“I don’t want to, but ignoring it will change exactly nothing!” I realize; “besides, I can not refuse my Mistress, now could I!” I conclude, as I am jumping down onto the floor.

My feet, hitting the floor with a soft thud; surprisingly comfortable, despite the lacking strength in my legs.

“There you go, you will find your way in no time at all!” the Mistress points out, as she is indicating where I am to go.

Since I am nude, I am walking barefoot; but I try not to permit this to get in the way, with only the Mistress in the room. My Mistress, as it had turned out. She is surprisingly charming, despite what she had just put me through.

“Will she turn me back to the man I was, or leave me in my current state?” I ponder; while I walk from her gurney, to the room she had told me to use.

Maybe it is my fantasy, running amok; could she reverse this change, or is it merely a Mirage put before my eyes? I do not know, but the room does look larger and taller than it had been as I had entered the room.

As I finally reach the door, she had indicated; the door slides up before me, revealing a fairly small room.

“Squeak, squeak, squeak!” I hear, as I am stepping into the room.

The door slides shut behind me, just as I had crossed the threshold; both my bare feet, firmly onto the floor in the room.

“Curious..” I exclaim, “These noises I hear with each step I take..” I continue; “Though I guess, I enjoy just how soft the floor is under my feet!” I conclude.

Maybe I have an inch of crystal-clear, soft silicon to thank for these things.

As I scan the room, I am facing a mirror; where a black woman is looking back at me, somewhat plump and shorter than I had imagined. She is me, of course.

“Whoa!” I exclaim, in shocked surprise.

The voice is coming back at me, almost as if she had been attacking me; with the sounds of the voice, that is now mine.

Only now, I can see the shock and fear in her eyes; as it is dawning upon her, just who she had become.

“I do not like, being you; just look at yourself, timid and weak!” she mumbles.

It feels, almost as if she had thrown a curse at me; even if the words came over my lips, and the voice is my very own. This, is who I am now. For as long, as my Mistress is choosing to make it last.

I had been thrust, into an echo chamber of sorts; where I can see the echo of my appearance, and hear myself expressing who I am and what I had become.

Sadly, I have to confess; she is also right, of course. There is no denying her words. What I see before me, is myself.

I am still the very same man I had always been, but in the body of the woman I see before me.

“Learn to trust her; she just may be your strongest Ally, in your darkest hour of need!” I hear a strong voice from behind me.

Of course, I know this voice only too well, even if it is the first time in my life I had seen her; this is the voice of my Mistress, a symbol of power and strength. At least, she is in my book. Maybe that, is all that matters.

I am lost. The man I had been, is gone. What I see in the mirror, before me, is me, the black woman I had become. I had been transformed, by the hand of my Mistress.

I had come here, to see her; tricked by the inner rage and the ignorance possessing me, up until now. My own friend, leading me here, misleading me; or, guiding me forwards. Towards a new future. One, I could never have foreseen, and one I can still not fathom or grasp.

Security, lost. In the sea of endless choices. Do I act, or react?

Can I step up, and regain myself? Am I strong enough, to regain the equilibrium I need, in order to redeem myself; in the eyes of myself, and in the eyes of whom I had formerly seen as my friends.

I do not know. Do I care to know, who am I to say.

The girl in the mirror, smiles. She is smiling at me, right at me; blushing embarrassed, and ashamed.

While I do not know why, but I imagine she is about to explain it all to me.

Had it been yesterday, or any time in my past; I would have beaten her until she relented and told me. Now I can’t. I do not know. Just as I no longer know how to. Maybe, because I no longer have the strength.

I hope, she does.

It seems, I am forced into doing something I could never have permitted myself to do before; relying on someone else, and a woman at that.

At this point, the fact that she is black barely even registers.

Well; I guess it is I, who am black.

“Hello!” I say, as I am looking at the woman before me.

Of course, she is looking back at me. She seems unafraid, but embarrassed. Embarrassed by me. Who I am, who I was; everything I had ever done, in my entire life.

I could hardly blame her, how could I? She is a woman, and I guess I had been particularly hard on females. Both girls and women; for being week, obstacles to my ambitions.

“Who are you?” I inquire; “Do you at least have a name?” I continue.

“Who am I?” she echoes, unsure of herself for once; “Call me Maxine!” she then responds.

“Thank you, Maxine!” I respond.

“You are quite welcome, girl; be more kind and sympathetic to us now since you are one of us now..” Maxine pushes forth; “but alas, be decent; put something on, the wardrobe is right there!” she points out, in utter earnesty.

“oh..” I mumble; “thank you for reminding me, about just how nude I am” I continue.

I look in the direction indicated, only to find the open double doors, before me.

“of course, I could not walk out of her; stark naked, like this!” I ponder, in the silence of solitude; “now I just hope, there is something I could feel comfortable in wearing; something in my size, I can look good in!” I mouth.

“I can’t permit you, to walk out of here nude; even if I guess we can walk out of the room, since it is equating to the privacy of your home, and nudity is not exactly frowned upon in here!” she responds.

“Is that why my girlfriend went here, because she expected to feel right at home under a Mistress?” I inquire.

“I can picture her, enjoying the close attention of her Mistress!” she points out; as she neglects to mention the invitation, we are oblivious of.

“Maybe I should explore my wardrobe, so I can see what my options are..” I mumble; “since my old clothes are not going to fit, I can only hope they provide me with something befitting my new stature!” I conclude.

“The clothes you wore, as you arrived?” she inquires; Since these are clothes for a large male, that would hardly be appropriate now..” she offers.

I can but giggle, at that. Seeing her; wearing that kind of clothes is initially amusing, but then it is turning tragic to me.

“Not that I am in a hurry, to get out of here; but I am curious, to see how you will like the new clothes you are offered!” she exclaims, in an exuberantly bubbly voice.

“When you put it, like that; you make me curious, eager to try on whatever there may be in store for me!” I find myself responding, with raising excitement.

“Then, what are you waiting for?” she inquires, spurring me on to move forwards and grab my new life.

I place the palm of my extended hand onto the wall, ready to open up to see. I feel the warmth, only now it is more inviting in place of the grabby sense of being drawn in.

The door soon slides up. For some reason, I have the impression; there had been three sets of clothes in there, but only one is available to me now. Why were they retracting two thirds of what they had initially intended to offer me? I do not know.

I look in, into my wardrobe; eager to see, so I can claim a suit of my own. It is, what I had been offered.

There are dresses and skirts. Just that I want to have a complete suit, and ensemble; something I could wear proudly, and not just something to cover my currently nude body up with.

“A pair of panties and a brassiere, would be a good start!” I mumble to myself, knowing the body I am in.

“Just hope they fit me..” I ponder; “I need something comfortable to wear!” I conclude.

There are no black, red or white panties in the selection; but I do find a pair of bright cerise once, I pick up. The first I notice, is the slippery smooth fabric my selected panties had been crafted out of; the second is the tight fit and just how elastic these panties truly are. No mere Cotton or even Silk could rival them.

“These are looking as if they had been a size too small for me, but the cut is at least high enough to be comfortable to wear!” I ponder; based on experience and preference.

I step into the panties, left and right, as Maxine is watching me from behind; then I pull up my new panties, affording them a few tentative tugs in order to assure the perfect fit: once, twice and thrice.

“There, they do look beautiful on you!” Maxine exclaims, quite cheerfully.

“Thank you, Maxine!” I respond, as I extract the matching brassiere and start putting it on.

As I finish adjusting the brassiere, I turn my attention back to the set of clothes before me. I still have all the important choices to make, all the clothes I need to wear before I can go outside.

“How does it feel?” Maxine inquires; as she is looking at me, where I stand.

“Curious!” I respond; “Feels surprisingly good, with this brassiere on!” is all I can get out.

“I thought as much!” Maxine responds; grinning knowingly, as if she had experience of wearing effeminate clothes.

Of course, I have no such experience; as if I had been expected to have the parts, or wear these clothes before. Well, now I have. I will simply have to deal with it, or resign to be miserable for the rest of my life.

I don’t want to be miserable, naturally; but this situation is putting more than enough stress on me, as it is. I had been used to being me, and was quite comfortable with who I was back then; now all that is out the window, and I have to adjust to what had just happened to me.

Maybe the changes had gone just a bit deeper than you had been expecting; just adding a pair of br4easts on my chest and swapping the functional equipment. I had been ill equipped, to handle what befell upon me, but here I am.

“You could choose to wear a skirt and blouse, if you like!” she suggests.

“Something colourful, but don’t make it clash with my complexion!” she points out.

While I had not been looking for it, I find myself picking up a highly elastic and transparent under-skirt; stepping into it, pulling it all the way up and affording it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice.

Had I been gleeful, enjoying the elasticity and the comfortable fit? I guess I could not help myself. With a glance, I can also see Maxine enjoying watching me put it on, as she is giving an approving nod of her head. Just in a fashion I can not quite recognize or reconcile.

There is a deep blue dress, my eyes fall upon; it is tight and effeminately form-hugging, as I hold it in my very own hands. Extracting it had been only too easy, but that should have been expected here. Maybe the hue is appearing electric, with a rather metallic sheen to it.

“How could this possibly feel so good?” I ponder.

“Wait, just a minute; you should be wearing the blouse under that dress!” Maxine points out, as she is pointing at the porcelain white garment before me.

I pick the blouse out of the wardrobe, sliding my arms through the sleeves right and left; before I am buttoning it up, from the bottom and all the way up to the very last button.

“There..” she exclaims.

Now I pick up the promised dress, lifting it up over my head and slide into it; feeling the fabric as the dress is sliding all the way down to the floor with elaborate ease. Almost as if it had been a loose-fitting garment; not this tight, body-hugging gem.

I sense a shiver sliding down the length of my spine, and I find myself giggling. I can not put a finger to why.

I am split between the embarrassment of wearing these clothes even, if I am enjoying how it feels on my body; and the excitement of seeing Maxine wearing the clothes I am selecting. Is it for her, or for me; while the question is technically moot since I am her. Somehow, I love how the clothes adorn her, her body; even when I know it is me, who am wearing these clothes.

“Before I continue, I need to see if they have gloves or stockings?” I ponder; soon finding, exactly what I had been looking for.

Maybe I am a bit overdressed, but I had to try it all on now. I end up, picking a pair of full-length gloves; with a pair of matching stockings. Why does the white palm of the gloves’ hands not look out of place? Yet, I had made my choice. I had slipped the gloves on, with practiced ease.

I had felt how the fabric was sliding over the skin of my arms; how the elastic material permitted me to fit my fingers in just perfectly. Now I can clearly see just how effeminate the gloves are. These inch-long, semi-square nails. Though there is the one thing that sticks out; bright cerise pads covering the skin from the final joint of each finger and all the way in under the nail.

“Why does it appear to be the touch-pads of a cat?” I ponder.

Once I had slipped the gloves on, taking a moment to adore the appearance and saviour the feelings; I slip the stockings on, right and left. At first, there is nothing special about these stockings; but I can clearly see each of my toes, even if the toe-nails appear to be rudimentary in the Anime animation-style. How had I not noticed it before?

I return to the inside of the wardrobe, exploring the remaining options before me; picking up a black jacket. I pull it out, before I slide my hands through the sleeves right and left. Once I wear the jacket, I am buttoning it up; just as meticulously as I had the blouse, from the lowest button to the one just under my chin.

While I may still be inside, but it feels as if I need a pair of shoes or heels.

What I find, is initially shocking me; but ends up exciting me even more, as I get used to the idea.

“Crescent Moon” the label reads.

A pair of heel-less high heel boots, reaching up to my knees. These initially appear to be black leather, but feel more like vinyl.

I pick up the right one, slipping my foot down to experience the tight fit slowly swallowing the entire foot. I set the foot down, before I pick up the left one and slide my other foot in.

Once the boot had swallowed my feet, I barely feel the embrace; but I do feel the floor under what is appearing to be the hoof, of an equine.

“Curious!” I ponder.

“That, is perfectly you!” Maxine points out.

“Yes, I guess it is..” I respond, musing on the unexpected series of events I had just stepped into.

Since I feel, I have put on the entire ensemble; I close the door to the wardrobe and turn my back on it. I had made the choice, this is what I am wearing. The choices are based on who I am, it is my choice; now it is made up, and I am happy with it. As happy as I could be, in the situation I had found myself.

Walking around in a female body, is embarrassing to me; since I am a man, and had always been proud of it.