Sylvia’s Slave – 2 · Part 1

Sylvia’s Slave – 2 · Part 1 (1/2)
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CHAPTER 4

I'd been at Sylvia's about a year and Mrs. Hudson was getting ready to retire. From my conversations with her I had learned that I wasn't the only man being feminized in the valley; it seemed to have caught on as a fad with some of the wealthy women here. She had informed me that Mrs. Humber's daughter Florence wasn't really a girl at all, rather she was the old lady's son who was being raised as a girl. Florence and her mother were frequent guests at Sylvia's and the next time they came to tea I scrutinized Florence as surreptitiously as I could. There was no way that this sweet thing could be a boy.

I took her coat as she entered. She was young; I figured about twelve or thirteen, short; about 4'10", pale, and delicate. Florence was very pretty even though she wore no makeup. She had tiny pearl studs in her ears and her long straight brown hair, gathered in a yellow ribbon, fell down her back past her waist where the sash of her dress was tied in a big bow. The dress she wore was floral print in cotton with long flowing skirts and under it's bodice I could see the swelling of budding breasts. She was the perfect daughter as she took tea with her mother and Sylvia, chatting amiably with both of them. I returned to the kitchen.

"I thought you told me that Florence Humber was a boy," I accused Mrs. Hudson.

The old lady looked at me with sad eyes. "Maybe I said too much."

"Well I'd like to know just what is going on here."

Mrs. Hudson spoke in hushed tones. "It seems that Mrs. Humber had four boys and really wanted a girl before she couldn't have any more children. She was thwarted however when the last child, Walter, turned out to be a boy. Mrs. Humber is a very strong-willed woman and would not be denied; she decided to raise Walter as a girl."

"What about his father," I asked, "didn't he say anything?"

"I assume he would have, but he was already suffering from the cancer that killed him before Walter was a year old. Mrs. Humber consulted all kinds of specialists and used all sorts of drugs to stop Walter's development and stunt his growth."

"It sure seems to have worked, he makes a very pretty girl."

"Oh no," said Mrs. Hudson, "she is a girl."

"What do you mean?"

"Mrs. Humber had an something done to Walter that changed him into a girl."

"You mean a sex change?" I asked, incredulous that a mother could do that to her son. What kind of madwomen live here in Carmel Valley?

"I guess that's what it was."

"Where could she find a doctor that would do such a thing to a boy?" I mused.

Mrs. Hudson told me. "Mrs. Humber never let Walter out of her sight and he never knew anything other than girlhood. When he turned eighteen she got him to agree to her plans and before anyone knew of it, he was a girl. Permanently."

"Whoa! You mean to tell me that Florence or Walter or whatever is eighteen years old?"

"Lord no!" Said Mrs. Hudson. "That was some time ago. Let's see now, Florence should be about… twenty-eight."

"Holy shit! You mean to tell me that Florence Humber is a twenty-eight year old man."

"Why yes,… or,… she was."

The more I thought about Walter Humber the less extreme my predicament seemed; he had been forced to live as a prepubescent girl for over fifteen years and I only had to do five, unless I could escape sooner. Not only that, but I could go back to being a man when I got out of here, whereas Walter would be a girl forever.

Eventually Mrs. Hudson also told me about Mrs. Altieri and her husband Vincent. It seems that Carole Altieri was a very homely (let's not mince words; she's a dog) and overweight young lady when her father, the multi-millionaire Charles Alexander, died and left her swimming in money. This young gigolo from San Francisco decided to romance her for a crack at some of the cash. Carole found out what his intentions were, but went ahead and married him anyway, with an unbreakable pre-marital agreement that he either never read or couldn't understand. Boy, when he found out that he was cut out of any money, no matter the circumstances, was he ever pissed. She counted on that though and the first time he beat her up she had him where she wanted him; in front of the Citizen's Justice Committee. The end result was that Vincent Altieri is now Carole's servant Consuela.

In a way, I guess you could say that it was Vincent whose plight influenced me to commit to the desperate act that sealed my own fate. The Carmel Valley Club (whose membership, by the way, is the same as the Citizen's Justice Committee) was having it's annual social and Sylvia was this years hostess. All the help was pooled and it was while working there that I met Vince, or rather Consuela, as his wife referred to him. It was to be an international buffet and of course Vince was assigned to serve Mexican food. I gave him the once over while we setting up and he sure looked like a senorita; long curly black hair tumbled down his back.

His face was heavily made up and huge silver hoop earrings dangled from his ears. He wore an ivory colored off-the-shoulder peasant blouse, which displayed an immense cleavage that had to be real, tucked into the waistband of a long full skirt in a floral design which flowed over wide womanly hips.

I was serving as a cocktail waitress that evening and, as this was to be Sylvia's first exhibition of me to the entire Committee since they had placed me in her custody, no effort was spared in my preparation. After serving lunch I had been taken to the beauty salon in Carmel owned by that faggot George. His last name was Llewellyn and I'd found out that he was a member of the committee also. I was turned over to him while Sylvia and Julie went shopping.

George handed me a short pink robe. "Go on in the cubicle there and strip naked, then put this on and lie face down on the table."

The air conditioner was going full blast. My over-developed nipples stiffened up in the cold, their state not concealed by the thin nylon of the robe. I was very embarrassed as I walked out with my hands crossed over my crotch. At Sylvia's instruction I had not worn the crotch strap and my cock and balls hung down, barely covered by the skimpy robe. I laid down on my stomach as George swished back into the room.

That queer acted more effeminate than me, if that were possible. At least when I behaved in a girlish manner it looked natural.

George started waxing my legs. "Well dearie, it seems that those hormones you're taking are going to put me out of a job."

I couldn't dispute him. My body hair was coming in finer and lighter after every time I shaved, and the intervals between shaving were getting longer. I wondered if it would grow back o.k. after I was released from here and was no longer force fed hormones.

When the backs of my legs were done, I rolled over and George went to work on the front of me, including my belly so that I'd be left with a only a tiny feminine patch of pubic hair. He grabbed my shriveled penis and tugged on it playfully. "You know we could have a little fun, you and I, while we're here alone."

"Mr. Llewellyn!" I blurted out. "I'll have you know that, regardless of my appearance, I'm not queer and I don't like men."

George let go and sniffed like he was insulted. "Well I'm sure that Sylvia can repair that deficiency."

I was too, and I worried about his last remark while he stuck to business andI received the royal treatment. My now long hair was washed, styled, and permed. As I sat under the dryer a manicurist went to work on my long nails and shortly they were polished to perfection in deep red. No matter how often I do them at home they never look that good. I was given a make over, my hair was brushed out, and then George swung me around to face the mirror.

I could not believe that in just over a year I had been turned into the sweet looking young girl in the mirror. What would I look like after four more?

My attire that night was a replica of the old Playboy bunny uniform. I hid my cock and balls under a what looked like tight rubber jock strap, Sylvia called it a compactor, and pulled on black pantyhose. Then I stepped into and pulled up what looked like a strapless swimsuit, but which was actually my uniform. It was pink spandex and clung to me like a second skin. I was given a pair of black patent pumps with five inch heels. A little badge that said Billie, rabbit ears, and I was ready to go to work.

I found it difficult to get around in those shoes. I had to be careful and walk very slow and deliberately. I know that my ass wiggled when I did, but what could I do? Without a bra my breasts bounced around with each step so I had to move slowly on that account anyway. I went on down to help set up for the party.

I saw Vince there. I arranged to work near him and when I got a chnace introduced myself. "Hi, I'm Bill Adams."

He just stared at me for a minute. Then after looking around like a scared animal he whispered in a girlish voice. "Get out of here. Do it now. Before it's too late!"

He turned away and went back to work. I wanted to talk more, but Sylvia came out and was observing us closely.

As I served drinks I noticed all the men staring at my chest. It was really embarrassing. My nipples were clearly outlined as they strained against the stretchy fabric. I hadn't been aware that they were that prominent.

The party lasted well into the night and when it was over the help stayed behind to clean up. Carole Altieri had left Vince with us. He would sleep overnight and help me finish cleaning up in the morning. He was in Mrs. Hudson's old room and we had to share the bath in the hall. I heard him go on in and shower. I decided totalk to him. I snuck down the hall and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Come in."

I did and saw Vince's back as he dried his long hair. I gasped aloud when he turned around. As I had guessed his abundant breasts were indeed real and I now saw them revealed in all their glory. It wasn't the size of his chest that caused my shock, but rather his womanly hips. They were too womanly, for below them, between his thighs, hung… nothing!

Below the triangle of pubic hair, where should have dangled the cock and balls of a proud stud, there was only the sex of a woman.

He saw me looking at his crotch and said, "See what I meant about getting out of here while you still can?" "Your wife did that to you?"

"No. I did it to myself."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. It's kind of a long story."

He went on to tell me about how after he had beaten up Carole, he was arrested and turned over to the Committee, who sentenced him to remain under Carole's control and supervision. Carole was pregnant and, with no further use for Vince, decided to feminize him. He fought her tooth and nail, but Carole was indefatigable and after several years of hormones and cosmetic surgery, including breast implants, Vince had been forced to take on the appearance of a beautiful woman. Carole, who by now totally dominated Vince, was somehow able to persuade him that he wanted to be a complete woman.

Vince wasn't sure how Carole had been able to get him to do it, he suspected hypnosis, but whatever he finally agreed, consenting to sex reassignment, only to return from the hospital to find out that Carole had divorced him. Judge Martin had granted her the divorce. Along with the divorce, Carole had filed a petition for change of name which was also been granted by Judge Martin; Vince's legal name was now Consuela Hernandez.

"I owed child-support." He said. "Where could I go? What could I do… as a woman? So now I work for her as a domestic at minimum wage. After taxes and Social Security I take home just over four hundred dollars a month, out of that three hundred goes for child-support and the balance goes to pay off my doctors bills and legal fees."

As I stared at the man who was now irreversibly a woman, I resolved then and there that I was going to escape before Sylvia got the notion to carry my feminization to that extreme.

CHAPTER 5

I reasoned that the worst thing I could do would be to make a panicked escape which Sylvia was probably ready for, and wouldn't get me very far anyway. No, I would plan it out and bide my time until the right opportunity presented itself. Toward that end I behaved myself, cooperating fully with Sylvia, in order that any suspicions she might harbor would be allayed, and some

Sylvia’s Slave – 2 · Part 1 (1/2)
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