Matt and I went to college together. We were paired as roommates as freshmen and probably never should have gotten along but somehow we became friends. Matt’s huge. 6’4’’, probably around 270 pounds, football player type. He actually played his first two years at the University but a nagging elbow injury put a stop to his playing days. That doesn’t mean it effected his routine though. If anything, he went to the gym more. He was good looking, huge and on the football team so naturally he was the life of the party. We’d walk in and people would be bounding towards him and by proxy, bounding towards me. I was above average. Age has definitely made me more handsome though. I’m 5’11’’, shave my hair real short and rock a nice full beard. I wanted to play baseball in school (I was a pitcher) but didn’t feel like riding the pine for four years so I focused on Academics. Journalism was my choice because I’m stupid, but hey, I got a job so I have that going for me, which is nice.
Matt did something with Agriculture or Recreation…I don’t remember. It’s not that he was dumb or anything, they just had the football players taking easy courses so they could remain eligible but it’s really not important to the story. I don’t even know why I mentioned it. Just rambling I guess.
Anyways, the parties were legendary. After a while, we became our own dynamic duo. A sort of Calvin and Hobbes pair where he looked like a ferocious tiger but was really a valued confidant. Matt would always leave with a girl or two. Never three though, which I ragged him on a lot. He’d spend the night at wherever they lived and return a day or two later. He never really went into details about his shenanigans…
Wait, I don’t know what I’m doing. Why am I speaking this way? This is for you Matt. You’re the one that will be hearing this in oh, four hours? You should be awake by then and if not, the tape will be playing on loop. I should be addressing you. Where are my manners?
You would spend the night at wherever these girls lived and return a day or two later. You never really went into detail about your shenanigans…until I found out why. Let me set the scene for you, since you are a little preoccupied. Phi Alpha Omega rager. Everyone is drinking like a fish and alcohol is the only substance that will help them breath. You were chatting up…Cassandra? No, Clarissa! That was her name. I remember because you banished me after my twentieth Explain it All joke. You were kind of a dick that night. You’re leaning in, whispering in her ear as she turns all red. I remember her looking at you incredulously like you had just stuck a finger in her ass. So you’re canoodling with her when I meet Becky, her roommate. Total coincidence, I swear. Sweet girl, tight body, devil in the sack, veterinarian. We’ll talk more about her later, maybe. I’m on a time crunch here. Anyways, I’m not into guys that way but after years of seeing you leave with girls, I wondered why I never saw you again with them. I only assume you fucked the living daylight out of them and absorbed their soul like some Mortal Kombat character. So I see you two leave and I put the charms on Becky (In all honesty, I bluntly told her I wanted to fuck her at her Apartment. I’m a real Rico Suave). I scanned the house for you and let’s be real here Matty, you’re real easy to spot. You were long gone. Becky and I stumbled and fondled our way to her apartment. It was a nice loft apartment. Totally not made for two bedrooms but the loft portion housed Becky and the overlook aka living room housed Clarissa. Wasn’t a bad apartment. I even enjoyed the minimalist art they had on the walls. But you two weren’t there when we arrived. I’m bummed, but Becky won’t let me down (literally). She was great. I can still picture pushing against the upstairs wall and filling her tight cunt with all eight inches of my hardened cock. Smacking her ass harder and harder because each echo would reverberate throughout the entire flat. Ripping her head back by her hair as I filled her ass, then clamping my hand over your mouth as we heard you two finally enter the apartment. I won’t lie, I was pissed. She was a top three fuck. Was? Is? Whatever, you know the deal. So we stop. We’re drunk, we’re young and we’re adventurous, but the only thing separating us from you is about seven foot and a half high wall. We stay pinned against the wall and listen. We hear you two chatting and her giggling. We hear a zipper opening up. Her oohing and ahhing. Followed by a whispered “take it slow” and some grunting. I know curiosity killed the cat, but I ain’t no pussy so I peered over that wall like a French soldier in the trenches of Aisne.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/3kbd6v/sissyficationfeminization_forced_kidnapped_mfm
I know where I was when 9/11 happened. I remember the minute the race riots broke out in my city during Spring Break. And I’ll always have an image of five foot four, one hundred pound, blonde hair, blue eyed, wrist the size of a highlighter Clarissa Malkovich wearing a fucking forearm sized strap on as she breaks your ass in half. Her young, soft voice trying to bark out orders as you pinned your own face against the carpeted floor. Her foot placed squarely on your large, muscular back, creating the illusion that she was trapping you to the floor. The moment you looked over your shoulder at her with those big puppy dog eyes and she spit a loogie that landed right under your left eye. The zipper? That must have been to your school issued football duffle bag, which I always assumed doubled as your overnight bag. But now, leering over the edge, I realized it doubled as your dildo bag. I watched her have her way with you for a full ten minutes before I stopped. I was flabbergasted. As I sat, leaning against the wall, my mind raced. The alcohol, the sex, the shocking revelation was all too much for me and I had passed out. So little Matty, before I go back to that hot August night in the loft apartment, let me back up and talk about the perks of being a journalist: I get to learn about some weird shit. The Satanists on campus, water that makes concussions go away, X-Pills, dinosaurs in the sewers, you name it and I’ve read it. Not everything is as crazy as it seems. I mean, duh, there is no water that magically heals concussions; that’s just asinine. But there is a way…well, again, I’m too excited. Giddy is the term. I’m getting ahead of myself here. So I wake up lying on the floor with a blanket over me and a note from Becky to let myself out and her phone number. Head pounding, I recall the prior night’s dream of the slim beauty mounting you like a dog in heat. It slowly starts to dawn on me that what happened last night was no dream. I peer over the edge of the wall and see you, passed out with a similar note on Clarissa’s bed. I hope she took the time to Explain it All. I had to think about how to react. You were my bro! You are my bro! I shouldn’t care about what helps you get your rocks off. I mean, hell, I’m no saint. I have fetishes that can stay behind closed doors. But deep down, something changed inside of me. The behemoth brute, the colossus, the giant getting railed out and treated like a ten dollar hooker had some ideas floating in my head. I heard you start to stir and peered over the edge once more. You could barely walk! That’s why you were gone for more than a day. Honestly I’m not surprised. It looked like a fucking bazooka was wrecking your rectum. As you hobbled to the bathroom I gathered my clothes and beelined for the door when opportunity knocked. Maybe it beckoned. What it actually did was stare me in the face. An unlocked cabinet that housed a few vials of medications vital to Becky’s veterinary career stood before me. Having a very general understanding of drugs that aren’t weed, I slipped Diazepam and Midazolam into my pocket and strolled out the front door. I knew the one was a type of valium which could definitely come in handy for either personal use or for selling. I don’t know if you heard the door slam shut or not. On the brisk summer walk back is when the idea finally came to fruition: I was going to make you my bottom bitch. Now don’t get me wrong. You’re like a brother to me but something in my cerebral cortex or frontal lobe must have snapped as I formulated my plan. Do you ever have the problem of knowing how to get from A to B, and from C to D, but not how to get from B to C? That’s where I was. Keyword here: was. I knew that I was going to become your master. I knew you were going to become, for lack of a better term, my cock slave. I also knew that you outweighed me by almost seventy pounds and have half a foot on me. My original plan, and be happy I worked out the kinks, was to drug you with the dog tranquilizers and kind of just boss you around. Knowing now what I should have known then, that would have killed you. Would have been straight A’s for me though Matty. I needed a shove in the right direction and received that from the girl I had shoved into the wall less than 12 hours earlier.
I figured Becky was pissed that I had copped her meds but in reality, she wanted to fuck again and talk about what Clarissa had told her. Not to get sidetracked here, but I just realized I never gave her my number. I wonder how she found our dorm room? Did you give our room number to Clarissa? You don’t have to answer that, I know the gag makes it hard to speak. Back to the story though. You know what you told her you cheeky bitch. You masqueraded as this huge, hulking Bounty man but in reality you identified as a woman. The dresses, the make-up, the submissive style sex. You would go to thrift stores and buy five dollar dresses and shoes to wear once before throwing them away. For the girls that understood you, you would let them fuck you, apply make-up to you so you would feel prettier, then let them fuck you again. Clarissa even mentioned how you had priced gender treatment procedures and had even had a phone conversation with one practice. She also said that you could never go through with actual treatment but you enjoyed living out the fantasy. You loved cocks but weren’t so much turned on by the men who wielded them, hence the bag full of dildos. You pretty much promised the girls you saw popularity and an in with any party or sport figure at the campus as long as they kept their mouth shut. I know you know this but it tickles me to say it. Becky and I fucked probably three or four times after she gushed about this inside information. I’ve never seen someone so turned on. After the honeymoon was over, she planted the seed. We were going to give you what you couldn’t give yourself. She worked with animals that had a genitalia mishap or chromosomal mishap at birth or during their life. Drugs and/or surgery were options that helped the animals bodies adapt to the changes brought forth by their circumstances. I’m not saying Billy Goat Gruff wishes he was born a girl, but when his dick was ripped off, the hormone treatment made his life more viable as Billie Goat Gruff. At least, that’s what I got from her speech. I may have been staring at her body. Sue me. So Matty, what I’m trying to say that is that I’ve been drugging you. Well, we’ve been drugging you. A lot. I was never a good science student so Becks telling me to give you so many milligrams of whatzapram never really resonated with me. Your routine was Pallovian dog like every day. Wake up, drink water, make protein shake, workout, shower, class, eat, class, protein, drink, bed. Every day. Variety is the spice of life Matty! Not to get too technical, but the water from our filter was laced with chemicals for hormone treatment. Your protein powder was mixed with Midazolam to keep you docile. The shampoo you used was something highly illegal. Incredibly illegal. Like, giving plutonium to the Libyans illegal. Working out though. That was the beauty of it. Each day that you ran, swam and pumped iron was just you helping the chemicals coursing through your system faster. The changes were subtle and now I’m sure you’re remembering all the side comments you made that didn’t seem related, but in truth were. You stopped shaving as your five o’clock stubble disappeared. Your jaw line smoothed out. Don’t try and touch it, your hands are bound. Your hair grew quicker and fuller. You started shaving like a swimmer and removing excess body hair. You thought Beck’s idea of laser hair removal was genius. Your chest started to swell, which you attributed to a new workout pattern. Your legs toned and your ass firmed up from “squats.” You lost maybe ten pounds during the 45 days this whole process took. You started seeing Clarissa more. We started seeing Clarissa more too. She started to really command you once that door closed. We started feeding her instructions to work on your emotions. You started keeping your thrift store purchases at their apartment. We started spraying your clothes with chemicals. You started spending the weekend dolled up. We exchanged your store bought make-up with our own special concoction. You started calling yourself Mattie. In fact, we all did. There was still enough cognition in your brain to make you embarrassed when Becky or I said it, but deep down you must have convinced yourself we were just mocking you and your new boo. The changes happened so fast. Did you even recognize them happening? One month you’re a burly ex-football player and the next you’re dolling yourself up as the next Anna Nicole Smith. Shit. I really thought I would have more time to speak but the drugs have to be wearing off somewhat. Mattie, I’ll explain more of this later but there’s something I have to do first.
The tape abruptly ends. The silence of the room is eerie. You don’t recognize it. The walls are cold in their color, the ceiling hangs low as pipes intersect throughout the room. You’re partially supported by some wooden contraption. *Cocks. A nice, tasty full cock just sliding into my throat and choking me would…* Your head shakes. Your knees are cold. The concrete floor looks wet in some places. Hair dangles in front of your eyes. Your shoulder sockets burn from your wrists being bound behind your back. *My boy pussy needs it Master. Please tell me I’ve been good. Please fuck me. Pound my tight little hole…* You blink tightly; your head pounds. You look down, noticing your ample chest protruding from your body. You try to speak, but the gag keeps your mouth shut. A door opens and closes behind you. Footsteps can be heard but no matter how hard you crane your neck, you can’t see anything. *Pull my hair. Smack my ass. I’m a little sissy bitch now…* The sensation of your hair being pulled sends shockwaves throughout your scalp. You wince but feel yourself becoming aroused. Tears form in the corners of your eyes from the sudden force. *Blink you idiot. You don’t want your mascara to run. You have to look pretty for Master…* The straps around your cheek and jaw slacken, the ball gag slowly pops from your mouth with an audible pop. You gasp and instinctively lick your lips. The sound of your ragged breath fills the room. The increased oxygen makes you slightly lightheaded and the room seems to tilt on its axis. *My mouth needs filled. Please please please fuck my throat.* You can’t shake the thoughts. *Is this Cassandra’s doing? No…Katie was her name…Clarissa?* *His name is Master and your name is cum slut.* You shake your head, trying to shake the cobwebs loose when the grip on your hair is tightened. Your neck arches back as you moan. A thick, hard cock fills your vision. The musk from the shaft invades your nostrils and your mind goes hazy from lust. Your throat clams shut for a split second before your mouth starts to salivate. You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out like second nature. “Such a good little slut Maddie.” A commanding voice speaks to you. The low baritone of the voice resonates within you. You know you can place the voice… *That’s Masters voice. If I’m a good boy toy he’ll let me have a taste.* You close your eyes, inhaling the musk as you feel your lips being grazed by the cockhead. Your body becomes rigid, goosebumps fill your arms and you can feel the tiniest bit of pre-cum start to escape your tiny cock. You moan loudly. Your lips turn into a sly smile before your face is forced onto the thick cock. Your tongue swirls around each protruding vein and tries to lick and suck each square millimeter of skin as the head brushes against the back of your throat. The full, hair covered balls tickle your chin as the slap against your smooth skin. The hand on your head tightens and you moan, a deep guttural groan around the cock. As it releases from your lips, you gasp for a breath. Heavy trails of saliva connect from your mouth to the tasty treat at eye level. You no longer care about your aching shoulders or the ruined make-up. You just want to pleasure this cock. “Fuck my boy pussy” you squeak. The old, deep voice of two months ago is unrecognizable now. Immediately following the statement, the cock slaps your cheek hard, sending spit across the side of your face. Your throat is grabbed and you feel your airways get restricted. “Maddie. Slut…you know the rules…” The cock is slammed down your throat, silencing any cry you try to make. You feel your oxygen getting cut off yet you continue to swirl your wet, worthless tongue along the hard shaft in your mouth. Seconds feel like hours before you close your eyes and your mouth is empty. You cough and wheeze, trying to apologize. “I…I’m sorry, sir. Master. Please, it…it won’t happen again. I…I forgot my…my place.” You try to say between coughs. The answer seems to have worked as you catch another breath. You hear a whirring, a mechanical noise fills the room as you feel a tighter strain on your shoulders. The stockade that has bound you is rising. You feel a soft, cottony material fall around your body as you move. You realize a light, yellow sundress lays tattered around your body. It’s discolored and shows signs of wear. Your mind spins but you can only think of one thought: *I hope he doesn’t mind my dress…I had to get ready in such a hurry…Master would be right to punish me.* The whirring stops and you find yourself on your feet, bent over at a ninety degree angle, your face staring directly into the floor. A bead of sweat, maybe a tear, maybe even saliva falls from your face and lightly splatters on the floor. You jolt in your shackles as a hand rears down on your ass. You bite your lip as a second rains down upon you. Your knees go weak with a third hit before you hear the tearing of fabric and a cool rush of air access your newly reddened backside. A pair of torn lacy panties are discarded in front of you. They fall harmlessly near the puddle under your face. You widen your legs and brace yourself. You try and push your backside more firmly in the air. You dare not to speak as you feel the cockhead that was just probing your tonsils push roughly against your tight hole. You can feel yourself getting hard but not like you used to. You try to look back but as your head turns, you feel the first of several inches stretching your tight boy cunt out. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out. You lock your knees to keep yourself on your feet as you swallow every last inch of this hard cock inside you. You try and rock back and forth but the hands reach out and grip your hips. The fingers dig into your skin and you wince at how delicate your body is. The cock starts to slide out an inch before it’s slammed back inside you. Rough. Again, another inch before it returns to your hole. Hard. You feel cum dripping from your penis as the full length of the cock punishing your ass slams into you. No words are said as each thrust hits deeper inside of you. The only noises heard are your whimpers and the sound of balls slapping against your underside with each hard thrust. *You’re a whore. A slut. You want this cock. You need this cock. I was so pretty today he had to fuck me…* There’s no warning when you feel it. Master slams his cock deep in your little cunny and you can feel his head enlarge. Pulse after pulse and blast after blast fills the hole of yours that he owns. Your knees give out but the stockade keeps you standing. Master pulls out quickly and you can feel the cum leak out and down the back of your legs. You want to do anything to keep it inside of you, yet you’re too tired to do anything. You pant heavily, feeling your sad, pathetic cum on your leg being overtaken by your Masters cum. A smack on your ass brings you to your senses if only for a brief second. You look over your shoulder and notice familiar faces. But you can’t place them. *That blonde girl is…she’s not important.* Your eyes move onto the next individual you can find. *That’s Miss Becky. She’s my roommates girlfriend.* One last figure stands in the room, toweling themselves off. They’re lanky in shape but you can tell they’ve worked out. Maybe a soccer or lacrosse kid. A pitcher maybe? *No Maddie! I must have been fucked too hard. That’s my Master!*