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  • And When I Return Ch. 10

And When I Return Ch. 10

Saturday afternoon was sunny and seasonably warm, and before all the guests had arrived, Diane told Anna to report to the one large area of the back yard that had no shade. It was 1:00 and he waited, sweating slightly in his black maid's dress. The black stockings only added to his discomfort. The disadvantages of wearing a tight corset, panty girdle and stockings became obvious on a hot day.

At 1:05 Diane and Fiona approached him and Diane said cheerfully, "Anna, I want to shake things up a bit, do a bondage scenario this afternoon. Take all your clothes off please, all except your bra and panties."

Relief flooded over him as it appeared he had been forgiven and this was going to be an adventure of sexual bondage and who knows what else. "Yes, ma'am," he said, tingling with excitement.

Fiona unlocked his dress and shoes and he stripped completely so that he stood there in his white bra and miniature, almost thong-like panties under the corset. It was a reprieve in the warm sunshine to be this free and exposed to the mid summer breeze.

Fiona then applied bondage mittens to his hands, padded restraints that had no fingers whatsoever so that it was impossible to grasp anything. She buckled the flaps on his wrists and locked the hasps. Then she produced a stainless steel collar which was hinged in one spot and open on the other side. It was placed around his neck and locked shut. The sound of locks closing on him in bondage always made him shudder with anticipation and apprehension; they felt so controlling and insurmountable. He shook his head and the collar clanked with the flopping bondage ring attachments around its circumference. The scene continued without words as she locked a ten foot chain to his collar and then locked the other end to a ring embedded in concrete, a former base for a flag pole, in the ground at his feet.

Amused and aroused, he said, "Well, I guess that's it then; I'm not going anywhere am I?"

Now Diane was more serious. "No. No, you're not. Now we're taking your breasts off. You don't deserve to be a woman."

"What?" This bothered Anna, as he watched them helplessly. His fantasies were bursting about him like soda fizz. Bit by bit they peeled and pried them off. The skin under them felt sensitive and strange, a little wrinkled in places, and he flexed his chest, not enjoying the absence of weight there. Then he was shocked as Fiona started to unlace his corset.

"Wait, wh...what are you doing?" he stammered.

"Taking your corset off. As Diane said, you don't deserve to be a woman today."

Without further conversation Fiona and Diane abruptly walked away toward the house

"Hey, what's going on? What is this? Ma'am?" he asked.

Diane turned and said, "You don't appear to have learned anything yet, no visible real remorse even. So, welcome to your punishment, Jason. You're going to be standing there in the sun all afternoon in women's make-up, a wig, bra (but no breasts) and panties. You look ridiculous. We'll see what the others say about THAT, how they react to YOU. Enjoy the ridicule."

He noted that she had called him Jason for the first time in a week.

"Oh, uh, I get it," he said sullenly, and then he held up his mitten-clad hands and said, "Why the mittens though?"

Diane smiled deviously and said, "For amusement. We'll keep you hydrated, but you won't be able to manipulate anything will you?"

He looked at his hands helplessly and said grimly, "I suppose not."

"You won't even be able to take your panties or bra off will you?"

Predictably, he tried, but to no avail. "So?" he asked, "Why would I want to anyway?"

Diane turned back to the house and started walking again. She threw a parting comment back at him as she left. "Watch for tan lines sweetie," was all she said.

That struck him cold. Fuck, he thought! Oh no! He frantically worked at his panties but his padded mittens simply rolled smoothly across the edges of them with no influence whatsoever. He looked at his bra, the cups slack without their contents, the perfectly fitting stretchy bra straps on his shoulders, tight even without the load, and realized there was no way to remove anything.

And so the noose tightened even further. He thought of Jenna. He had no body hair and his eyebrows had been feminized with tweezers to form a high feminine arch. Now he'd have the indelible mark of the bra and panties in the form of a suntan. He closed his eyes in dismay and sat down on the grass, brown for the lack of shade in this part of the yard, and wondered what he was going to do.

He could always leave. Right now. He thought about yelling at Diane to stop this and that he wanted to go home, but he sensed it was past that point now. He processed the thought of leaving and his mental confusion blurred any conclusions he might have gained. This time, even if he had chosen to leave, he couldn't, as it was simply not physically possible to do so; there was no psychological component to the decision process.

He had chased this dream and now it had caught him.

The guests started arriving at 2:30 and for the first while he was regarded by the others as an interesting curiosity, the object of distant glances, smirks and hidden comments. Jason looked away in shame and humiliation every time one of the guests pointed or nodded toward him while making unheard comments.

He had tried to temper the effects of the sun by constantly shifting his body so that different parts of him were exposed at different times. There was no sign that Diane was going to prevent him from being sunburned, no sun screen at all, not a healthy prospect, but he had little choice in this. Already, his shoulders were hot and he suspected they were burned. The bra straps remained tight in their spots, and he knew that soon he would be baked all over, with the perfect imprint of the bra, front, back and top, as well as the thong-like panties on his hips and derriere, as he liked to call it now. He looked at the sky and noted thankfully that there was some increased cloud cover. It was not enough to keep him from being tanned or burned, but he would not burn badly.

It took at least an hour before the ponies were ready for their exercise in the yard, but in the mean time, the two male maids approached him with puzzled looks.

"My name's Georgina, and this is Brianna," the ungainly tall one said, "Punishment for the other day?"

"I guess so, yeah," he answered, ashamed at his predicament.

"I must say, you look terrible, and you've got a bit of a sunburn there. Good thing it's clouding over. Do you want some water? We've got instructions not to give you food or alcohol." He glanced over his shoulder at Diane.

"Pleased to meet you. I'd shake your hand, but as you can see, I don't have any today," and he held up his bound stumps, "My name's An..., uh...my name's Jason, I guess. Water, uh, yes please. That would be nice."

Fat Brianna waddled over to a table in the shade and got a glass of water, and brought it back while Georgina and Jason stared silently at one another. Brianna tipped the glass so Jason could drink. It spilled over his chin and down his empty cleavage.

"Mistress Diane tells us you're gay but you won't admit it. Are you ashamed of it or something? I bet your boyfriend wouldn't like to hear about that. Is he here?" Georgina said.

"I'm not..." Jason stuttered, and then he realized it didn't matter what he said, "I'm...not uh, not ashamed of it, of this. Well the way I am right now, yes I am. I feel ridiculous."

"Odd what you did on Wednesday, considering your background, you know, being a gay transvestite and all that."

"What?" Jason said, becoming exasperated, but knowing there was little he could do to correct the judgment.

"Well," Georgina added, "You looked at us and the ponies on Wednesday and we could all tell you felt somehow superior, that we revolted you. And then you laughed. You actually laughed at us. What was that all about anyway?"

Jason shifted position. His chest burned in the heat. He said, "I don't know. I'm just new I guess. I should have acted with more maturity."

Georgina's lips formed a slight snarl and he stretched to his full height of 6'6" with heels on and looked him square in the eye, saying, "Fucking right you should have. Now look at you. You don't look like much now. How does it feel to look like a man in drag like me and Brianna, asshole? You've got nothing now, do you?" He had instantly turned acidic and bitter.

Jason looked down at his feet, genuinely ashamed of himself and mumbled, "Look Brianna, Georgina, I can't take the past away. I wish I could. I can't believe I acted like that and I feel so bad about it. I'm beginning to understand what I should have understood intuitively, especially in consideration of uh, of my fetishes. Sometimes I can be such an asshole."

Out of the blue he realized he was looking at the both of them as human beings now, as women, as men, neither category mattering. They could have had purple skin and mauve lips and hair and it would not have influenced his opinion of them. They were him, he was them, and a wave of enlightenment engulfed him. He heard horses making their way around the cobblestone walk and glanced at the ponies as they passed. They neighed and whinnied as their owners whipped them gently. It all became clear to him in that instant, an epiphany of acceptance. Whether it was the heat of the sun, or the humiliation of being nothing but a stripped down feminized man, he got his first glimmering of understanding. These people chose to be who they fantasized to be, and felt no shame in it; in fact they embraced it as they embraced each other.

Jason's soul opened and he continued the small talk as if he was standing at a cocktail party at a medical convention. "Are you girls married?" he asked.

"Yes, those are our wives over there." Georgina pointed to a pair of well dressed ladies in bright sundresses under the oak tree sharing a conversation and two glasses of wine. They were both attractive, with an air of confidence and intelligence about them, evident even from this distance.

"Pretty women," Jason said, "Wish my wife was liberal enough to dress me like they dress you."

"You're gay and married to a woman? Wow, you really are in a tough spot then aren't you? I presume your wife isn't here then." It was the first time Brianna spoke, and his voice was squeaky and high pitched, in contrast to his bass-sized carcass.

"No, she's not," he said with guilt.

"So, let me get this straight, you're a gay man cheating on your wife?" Georgina asked with open disdain.

Jason wanted to set the record straight on the gay issue, but there was no point; they would just think he was being superior again. Besides, as he looked at these women/men, he started to like them, their guts to live the way they wanted. And he had the gall to laugh at them.

Ignoring Georgina's observation and question, he blurted out abruptly, "I'm so sorry. I feel terrible." He was apologizing to them again about the way he had treated them on Wednesday, but they interpreted it to mean that he was sorry he was cheating on his wife. He turned away toward the back fence to be alone and hide the water in his eyes. The clouds had gone from grey to black over them. The wind began to increase, soothing the burn on his skin, but he was wounded inside. How could he say he was sorry in a way that could be interpreted as meaningful? He had been such a jerk.

Moments later he felt a touch on his back as Georgina comforted him. "You need to talk to your wife about that, not us. Everything's gonna be okay Jason; we've accepted your apology to us, but think about your wife. We can't do anything about your punishment here, but I do empathize with you. You're one of us." Each of them gave him a hug and then they left to join the others.

Jason tried to wipe away the tears which ran down his cheeks with the bondage mittens. This only served to smear his makeup absurdly across his face.

At 3:35 it was decided that the thick clouds necessitated moving into the dungeon. Jason watched as everything was cleaned up hastily and moved inside, the doors closing to the dungeon just as the first rain drops fell. They had left him, so he sat cross-legged near his concrete anchor for the next hour while the rain fell in buckets over him. He was miserable. His makeup ran down his face in streaks, his wig became saturated, and in general, he was the perfect caricature of pathetic. But it felt like a baptism of sorts, a low point and a new beginning.

When the shower had passed, Diane came to him across the soaked lawn. His tears were masked by the rain, but his eyes gave him away. "Have you had enough?" she said softly.

"Yes ma'am, I've had enough. Of this. But..." He wanted to say that he was ready for more training, but he felt that was a slim possibility now.

"Do you want to go home to Jenna now, or do you want to become Anna again?"

His face brightened slightly as he said, "I can? You mean you'll let me?"

"Of course. Now maybe you can truly embrace it."

Embrace which, he wondered? Jenna or Anna? Or was this a choice between leaving or staying?

"Then I want to be Anna," he said, "And I want to apologize again to everybody here."

When they entered the dungeon, Diane said to the assembled guests, "Ladies and gentlemen (and ponies), Jason has learned an important lesson. I want you all to witness the rebuilding of Anna please."

Everyone smiled and cheered while raising their glasses, and Jason was led into the shower inside the cell where he was told to clean up and shave his chest, legs and underarms in preparation. Fiona carefully dried his wig and rushed about assembling the accoutrements of the transformation while everyone watched with fascination. The self adhesive breasts had been cleaned and were ready for reattachment, and so the process began again so that he once again felt that heaviness in his bra and the firmness and control of the corset. He felt like he had fallen and was a broken blob of gel, now being supported by this clothing as he was being rebuilt. Full make-up application followed, and when the wig was placed on his head everyone cheered.

One of the ladies who owned a pony girl raised her glass and yelled, "Welcome back Anna!" She swayed on her feet from the excess intake of wine, confident that she had a designated driver to take her home. Her pony stood submissively beside her, content in that role.

Anna blushed as he pulled on a panty girdle to crush and hide his manhood. Now he was helped into a tight fitting stretchy "little black dress" with a plunging neckline. It molded perfectly to his 26 inch corseted waist, causing his breasts to appear even larger. Fiona passed him some 4 inch pumps and the transformation was complete, but thankfully with the absence of stockings, as the dungeon was still hot from the sunshine earlier in the day.

Oddly, Anna now felt safe and at home, relaxed and comfortable, but with a distinct erotic edge, and for the first time there was no theraband at his thighs to force him to walk and stand with femininity. It all came together on its own as he walked with feminine poise to the coffee table, poured himself a glass of wine and lifted it while saying, "I'd like to make a toast. I want to make a toast to all of you who have forgiven me for my horrible behavior the other day. I never realized how special all of you are...and how special I can be, and will be. I am you. You are me. Here's to all of us!"

Over the next hour, as the party wound down, he talked amiably with everyone privately and in groups, even the pony girls who were tied by their reins to a bar on the side of the room, finding they were indeed males, and good looking females at the same time, oh yes, and horses. Everyone that had been invited here was a professional of some sort and from Toronto, but he was informed that the "scene" in Toronto was far more diverse than this, with plumbers to lawyers and everything in between. They all had one thing in common, not their fetishes, which were quite diverse, but the acceptance of them.

That evening, Diane and Fiona took Anna to their bed, and for the first time they made love to him unrestrained, Diane taking him from behind while his head was buried between Fiona's legs. It was a passionate scene of unbridled lust and passion, a release of stresses between them that had previously been unseen and unspoken, but recently revealed. It was not love; but it was a consummation in a strange way. Both of the women reached orgasm at the same time and that pleased him. While Diane recovered and was slowly and gently penetrating him in a cool down mode, she reached around and grasped his penis so that he came as well. But it wasn't necessary this time; he sensed his purpose was to please them, and that would have been enough.

As drowsiness began to overtake them, Diane told him to go his room, but before he left she pulled him close and said softly, "You've changed, haven't you? You're not the same; I can tell. It's been a week now, and you have one more week to really make a difference. When you return, you'll be different. Jenna...uh, Jenna's going to..." That thought remained unspoken and then she ended with "With your changes you're just going to have to work it out aren't you?"

With that she dismissed him mysteriously and went to bed.

Jenna's going to what, he thought to himself? Work it out? How? What did she mean by that? And as he snuggled into his own bed, remembering that he had forgotten to phone her tonight, a plan began to develop in his head. He tried to summarize it in one decisive statement so he could remember it all in the morning but he was already asleep and dreaming and he didn't know the whole plan was a dream. The scene kept playing over and over again with "And when I return, things will be different, things will be different, things will be...different."

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