Sylvia’s Slave – 2 · Part 2 (2/2)
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day she would let her guard down just far enough for me to make my move.
Mrs. Hudson finally left and I took over as cook and housekeeper. In the interim, the hormones had taken their toll; I had all the curves of a girl, my skin was soft, and I was no longer shaving. With the compactor on I could pass anywhere as a girl, even in a bikini. At this point the hormones were reduced to a maintenance dosage. I gradually noticed an increasing sensitivity in my cock and after awhile it even got hard again, for which I was grateful.
I worked hard, watched, waited, and plotted for my escape. My prayers were answered, and I got the break I had been waiting for on New Year's Eve. Sylvia and Julie went out to a party and I was left home alone. About three in the morning I was awakened by loud talking and laughter. Having seen this before, and thinking that they would probably want me to prepare some food or help them undress, I got out of bed, pulled a robe over my nightgown, put on some slippers, and went to see what the situation was.
I entered Sylvia's room and as I took in the scene I knew that this was an opportunity which might never again repeat itself. As I suspected, the girls were drunk as lords, but this time they had gone even further. The two of them were passed out on the bed in each others arms. It wasn't hard for me to reconstruct what had happened.
They must have come in and tried to get ready for bed. Sylvia had opened the safe to put their jewelry in. After putting hers in, Sylvia went to get Julie's. Julie always was a playful little thing and had probably pulled Sylvia down for a kiss. The liquor had overcome them and there they were; on the bed, still dressed and unconscious.
I went and looked in the safe. I could have screamed with joy. My escape was a certainty. In there were bundles of cash, many pieces of expensive jewelry, papers, and in the back, that same little pistol that had been planted on me so long ago. I took the gun, checked to see that it was loaded, then put it in the pocket of my robe. Grabbing a suitcase, I emptied the safe into it.
What next? I stopped to consider. I needed some clothing. Thanks to Sylvia, I couldn't pass as a man, and all the women's clothing I had were sexy and revealing. Guaranteed not to provide the anonymity I needed to pull this off successfully.
I ran to my room, grabbed panties and a bra, and put them on. Back in Sylvia's room I went through her drawers and found what must have been her only pair of jeans. They were of course designer and fit very tight, but they'd last until I could buy something. I pulled on a cotton shirt and found a leather jacket. That and some shoes were all I'd need. I found a pair of running shoes and put them on, after over a year of wearing nothing but high-heels they felt good on my feet.
I decided to take my revenge before I left. I laughed as tied the two unconscious girls spread-eagle on the bed. I got a glass of water and threw it in Sylvia's face.
"Wake up bitch!"
She puttered and came to. "What the fuck?"
"Shut up!" I yelled. I'm on my way out of here and want to finish what I was doing when you so rudely interrupted me last time."
I pulled down the jeans and panties, pulled out my cock, and started playing with it to make it hard.
"I want you to watch while I fuck your little girlfriend here."
She did, as I did. It felt great, even if Julie slept through it. Sylvia glared at me. I knew what I wanted to do. I went in the bathroom and pulled out that horrid butt-plug. I was so used to it that I'd almost forgot it was there. I rinsed it out. Returning to the bedroom I crammed it in Sylvia's mouth and tied it there with a pair of panty-hose.
"I've had Enough of your shit bitch. Maybe that will keep it in. Now is when it starts getting better for a change."
I laughed to myself, enjoying my revenge on those two cunts, as I headed north on Highway 1 in Sylvia's car.
CHAPTER 6
I knew that Sylvia would spare neither effort nor expense in searching for me, so I did what I could to throw the hounds off of my scent. The first problem was my appearance; that of a beautiful blonde. I knew from past experience that, no matter what I wore, men would stare at and remember me.
I took stock of my situation. In the case was well over 150 thousand dollars. I figured that the money would be fair recompense for what Sylvia had done to me and my body. I also knew that making myself presentable as a man again would eat up a big chunk of it. The rest would help make myself disappear. I had an idea. I crossed over to, and headed north on, 101 towards San Jose.
I left Sylvia's car in the long term parking lot at San Francisco International Airport and started wandering through the terminals. It wasn't long before I spotted what I needed; a good looking blonde about my height. I went over and talked to her.
"Excuse me, but could I ask where you're headed?"
She was a cute girl, but then again that's what I appeared to be. She wasn't suspicious of my motives and talked to me.
"New York. Why do you ask?"
"It's a long story, but I'd be willing to pay your way if you can help me out."
"Go on."
"It's my boyfriend. I've had enough of his abuse and I'm leaving him. He's got lots of money and I don't want him to be able to track me down. So here's the deal. I get in line, buy you a ticket under a my name so you aren't involved, the agent remembers me, and you fly to New York on the ticket while I head elsewhere."
"Sounds good to me, and I could sure use the money it would save me, and I know what pigs some men can be. Sure I'll be glad to do it, and good luck to you." We never exchanged names and after I saw her off I caught a cab to the city. There I got on BART to Oakland where I caught another cab to Oakland International Airport and bought a seat to LA under a made up name.
It was mid-morning when I deplaned in Los Angeles. I bought newspapers and went into an airport coffee shop and ate breakfast while looking for a place to live. There were several reasons why I'd picked LA; I'd grown up there, it's easy to drop out of sight there, and damn hard to find someone there who doesn't want to be found. If you have money there's nothing you can't buy and, most importantly, LA has a large transsexual community. Strange as it sounds, that would be my cover while I returned to masculinity. Hide in plain sight as it were.
Los Angeles was the perfect place to lose myself; if you can't do it there, you can't do it anywhere. I decided to call myself Jennifer Smith. With the money I had it wouldn't be hard to settle in, find my way around, and buy some ID. Once that was taken care of, I could figure out a way to become a man again.
As I went through the classified ads, I circled those with potential and started calling when I was done eating. I hit pay dirt on my third attempt. A furnished studio apartment in Hollywood for rent by the month. The landlord was sort of a bum, but he wasn't curious, and took my deposit and first months rent in cash.
He probably thought that I was just another of the thousand or so young girls who flock there each year hoping to make it in show business, and I did everything possible to reinforce that impression.
I sat in my tiny new home and took stock of my situation. I had nothing except the clothes on my back and a suitcase full of cash. The first order of business was food. I grabbed a handful of bills and then stashed the suitcase in a closet. On my trip to the supermarket I discovered what would be my number one problem in LA; a good looking girl alone just can't go about her business incognito. Especially walking in a city where everyone drives. I was no sooner on the street than I heard my first, "Hey baby. Need a ride?"
While walking through the grocery store, I stopped for a minute in front of the panty-hose display. "Never again," I thought to myself, savoring my escape from Sylvia and liberation from forced femininity. I returned to my new apartment with the basics: milk, bread, cereal, cold cuts, chips, and beer. I made myself a sandwich, popped a cool one, and considered my next move. I would need some clothes, but the question was where to shop and what to buy.
While I had hoped to return to men's clothing as soon as possible, there was no denying that with my body, at least for the present, I would be more likely to find appropriate clothing at Frederick's of Hollywood than Brook's Brothers.
I went shopping and bought a bunch of jeans and sweat-shirts. Just enough to keep me going until I could get back to real men's clothing. I also bought some cotton briefs, they were women's, but the only ones I could find that fit. They'd do for now.
I also found out that there was something else I was going to have to work on. I found out the hard way that living with that butt plug inside me had caused me to lose the ability to control sphincter. I won't go in to any details, except to say that whenever I felt the need to go, I now had about three minutes to find a toilet. I debated getting another one, but decided that I'd rather regain control and have dirty panties than keep another butt plug in me.
I settled in and laid low for awhile. Then one night I put my plan into action. I knew that there was an area of the strip where TS hookers and their customers congregated. So one night I wandered on down there and started hanging around. I struck up a conversation with a couple of them. I found one that hadn't been hardened by life on the streets yet. He called himself Lana and had come out from Utah or somewhere to hustle money and change his sex.
I invited Lani home to sleep on my couch one morning after a night on the streets. We talked for awhile and I pumped him for information on the best doctors to see. I woke up the next afternoon to find the little bitch gone along with some of the jewelry I had taken from Sylvia's. I'd stashed it under the sink in a coffee can. Lana had obviously torn apart the house looking for anything of value. It was a good thing I'd put the money in a safe deposit box. I'd been able to rent one with the false ID I had been able to buy. It wasn't the best, but it worked. The guy who sold it to me thought I wanted it to be able to pass for 21 and buy liquor.
I went to one of the clinics on the list I had made talking to Lana. The receptionist told me that they did do sex reassignment there, but that I'd need to be referred by a psychologist first. She gave me the name of one and I went to see him. It wasn't hard to convince him that I was what I appeared to be; a pre-operative transsexual passing successfully as a woman. That's why I went to LA, it's almost an everyday thing there. It was time to put my plan into action.
"So you've lived as a woman for a year and you're ready for surgery?" The shrink asked me.
"I'm not sure Doctor. I just want to get this over with."
"I really can't let you go through with this if you're not one hundred per cent sure of what you're doing."
"What else can I do Doctor? The hormones I've been taking have completely changed my body shape.., and just look at these." I pulled up my sweatshirt and showed him the massive breasts hidden under it. "What can I do about them?"
I laughed all the way home. In my purse was a years supply of the strongest male hormone available. The doctor had even been so kind to arrange for what he called a radical mastectomy. I didn't care what he called it. They were gonna cut those damn tits off.
On the appointed day I showed up at the clinic where they were going to do the job. I was given a room where I undressed and put on the hospital gown. As I tried to go to sleep I was so relieved. At last I was on my way back to masculinity. No more bras for me. I'd get these tits off in the morning and never wear girls clothing again.
The next morning a nurse came in and gave me a shot in my ass. I started to drift as the shot took effect. Another nurse in surgical greens wearing a mask came in and I became aware that she was strapping my arms and torso to the table.
"Why are you doing that?" I asked her.
"It's for your own protection dear."
That voice! I knew it. Just then she slipped her mask down: it was Sylvia.
"So! You thought you could get away from me. I must admit you led me on a merry chase until some of my jewelry started showing up in pawnshops, but here I am and now you must pay. Remember Billie; it always gets worse."
THE END (ha-ha just kidding)
Of course this will be continued with conclusion. —
Sylvia’s Slave – 2 · Part 2 (2/2)
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