The five million dollar bride, part 2

He was imprisoned by the mafia, and they were clearly up to nothing good. Continues from part 1.

The next time Diana and Bill came along, he did not put up a fight. I only gave her his arm and let her inject him with the serum. He knew now that there was much more than vitamins in that cocktail.

"Since you have been so compliant, I'll let you have a reward," Diana said. "Follow me!" They took him to a bathroom and let him take a shower. It felt good to get rid of what must have been days of grime and sweat.

There was a mirror in the bathroom and he examined his face. No stubble whatsoever, in spite of him having spent days in that cell. His head, however, was covered with a short red brown hair. He hadn't looked this good since his teens.

He noticed that his areolas had started to grow and become "puffy". They had expanded slightly, and started to look like the chest of a girl in early puberty. It looked like his hips were getting wider as well, he could feel a soft layer of fat under the skin when touching his buttocks. He had to ask Diana about this.

He used a towel to dry his body and looked around for his pajamas. It was not where he had put it. Instead he found the the babydoll. He remembered the description from the catalog: "Siren-worthy shape in lustrous silk georgette, lavished with embroidery, beading and sequins. Ties at neck. Matching panty."

He took up the babydoll, and yes, under it he found matching panties.

So this is it then, he said. They are turning me into a transvestite.

Well, he had no choice. He put the garments on, and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked strange, but without his body hair and his belly receding, he did not look too bad.

On the way back to the cell he told Diana about the changes to his body.

"Do not worry about that, my dear," she told him. "This is just the normal side effects of the vitamin mix. You do not miss your big belly, do you?" No, he did not.

Back in the cell, he started looking closely at more of the models and what they were wearing. However, in his fantasies he found it harder to harder to distinguish between the role of himself as a strong stud making love to this women, and the idea of him wearing more of these clothes.

He was tremendously fascinated by a pink babydoll wore by a sexy big breasted blonde.

"Naughty and nice in delicate, sheer stretch lace. Adjustable neck. Matching silk panty. Imported nylon." Oh yeah, he would love to fuck her.

That night the dream had changed slightly. He was wearing the "VS logo lace halter babydoll". He could feel his breasts bounce slightly on his chest. His ass was resting on the table. He could see a naked man approaching, penis erect. He opened his arms to welcome him.

He woke up with seamen soiling his baby doll. In the background he could hear the feminine voices. "I want you inside me, baby." "Oh yeah, fuck me hard in the ass, lover!" "Hmmm, I feel so good in silk and lace!."

He was more than embarrassed. I am a man, damn it! They will not be allowed to turn me into a transvestite, he thought.

He was not surprised to find the pink babydoll by the door. However, when he took off the white babydoll, he was shocked to see that his chest had expanded into two small, recognizable breasts. "My God," he said. "They are not turning me into a transvestite. I am becoming a transsexual!"

Strangely enough, the idea of turning into a "chick with a dick" did not make him too uncomfortable. The feeling of the babydoll rubbing against his erect nipples was just too good to deny. The man him had always liked to touch and caress breasts, and the fact that these too were his own, only made the feeling stronger.

"Make them stop!" one voice in his head pleaded. "No, let them continue," another said. "I want to see where this ends."

That evening Diana and Bill moved him into another room. "Unlike some of our clients you seem to adapt nicely to your changing condition," Diana said. "You are clearly not going to hurt yourself."

The room had a strong feminine touch. Pinkish walls, bright curtains framing a window facing a beautiful garden, and pillows, a large number of colorful pillows. Raymond had never grasped why women wanted pillows everywhere. Now he had to concentrate hard to make an argument against them.

There was a separate bathroom with a large number of bottles with creams, perfumes and various sorts of make-up.

He slept well that night. In fact, he couldn't remember ever to have slept this good. When "The Dream" came to him, he didn't resist. He opened his legs to the stranger and let him thrust his penis into him. His body was shaking with pleasure all through the dream. He did not wake up until morning, fully rested.

On the chair beside his bed there was a blue turtleneck sweaterdress and new panties. He had seen it on the model on page 45 of the Victoria catalog.

His breast were bigger and his hips wider, so the dress fit him perfectly. His hair was still short and boyish, but his face had become finer and more feminine, and he knew that he looked good.

Seeing daylight again, Raymond knew that he meal he was served that morning was breakfast.

"All right," Diana said, "It is time to end this. I will give you a double dose today." She gave him two injections.

"You really want to lie down on the bed for this," she told Raymond. She helped him get out of his dress.
She put him down on the bed. He felt weak and feverish.

He could actually see his breasts growing. "They look nice, don't they?" Diana asked him. "The problem is , my dear, that they are going to reach twice that size. Oh yeah, you are going to get a couple of big udders worthy of a cow. Too bad, though, because you are really becoming a beautiful girl."

She was right. His breast slowly expanded and became heavier and heavier against his chest. He moved over to the side to breathe easier. They felt good, though. He touched them, squeezed them, massaged them, getting more and more aroused in the process.

"Let me help you with that," Diana said, and started to lick and bite his nipples. Well, if this was what it meant to be a woman, he could get used to it.

Diana pulled out his dick. It was definitely much smaller than the one he knew a few days ago, but it did raise to the occasion.

"It is time for you to go," Diana told his penis, and started to suck. Raymond fondled his erect nipples, savoring the feeling of Diana's tongue playing with his dick.

He could feel an immense orgasm building up. It didn't stop when he came into her mouth. The ejaculation was followed by one ecstatic wave after the other. At the same time he could feel his penis deflate and shrivel. When Diana gave it her final lick it had turned into a highly sensitive clitoris. Another wave engulfed him.

Diana massaged his new pussy lips with her hand. She looked up over his huge breasts and said:"Randi, you are now a woman." Then she trust two fingers into his pussy, proving her point beyond all doubt. He was soaking wet.

Diana pulled him up and stuck her fingers into his mouth. "Taste your own pussy juice, bitch. This is what you have become!

"You are a slave now, do you hear me! You have no passport, no social security number, no papers, and the man that have bought you own you completely. If you try to escape we will hunt you down, and when that happens, you will serve as a whore in the brothels of Nairobi!

"You are lucky, though. Our client is a man that worships women. If you treat him well, he will probably give you a good life."

Diana asked her to put on a white bustier, a pink jacket and panties. "This is not exactly my taste," she said, "but the customer gets what the customer wants."

They did really show off his new voluptuous body though. In this day and age there were women that would have called her fat, but Randi knew better. The man that had ordered this body, worshiped the female form. Maybe, this wasn't too bad, after all.

When the man arrived, she was a bit disappointed. He looked kind, but was rather small. The look in his eyes when he saw her body though, was priceless.

"My lady, I am Omar Allani," he said and took her hand. "I see that you are everything I have dreamed of."

Randi didn't know what to say. She was an intelligent woman, and knew perfectly well -- given Farinelli and all -- that she had no options beyond becoming this man's lover.

But the weakening man inside her had still problems to come to terms with the fact that her own penis was gone and that this man wanted to put his penis inside her.

"Please show me your tits," Omar asked her.

"Do it bitch!" Diana commanded. That was unnecessary. Randi had already lifted her two big balls of flesh out of her bustier. Actually, the longing in this man's eyes excited her. She absorbed his desire as a plant absorbing sunlight. It made her feel beautiful. If he thought of her as a beautiful woman, she was indeed a beautiful woman.

He came closer, as if asking if he could touch her. This is good, Randi thought. He may have bought himself a sex slave, but he still respects me as a woman. Maybe it was part of Arab culture. She didn't know.

Without even thinking about it, she went up to him, turned around and put his hands on her tits. She could smell his perfume and the musky smell of his excitement, and it turned her on.

He fondled her breast, stroke them and then kissed them. Boy, was this man a breast fetishist!

"You can leave us now," Omar told Diana.

"I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the gift you have given me, and may Allah forgive us all for the crimes we have committed towards this beautiful woman."

"I am not proud of what I have done to you," he said to Rand when Diana had left. "My flesh is weak and I may have been led astray by jinns, but I promise you that I shall take good care of you."

Whether it was his kind words, the subliminal voice conditioning, her high levels of estrogen or her own free will that made her do it, she did not know. But she found herself on the knees on the floor, pulling out the man's penis.

He tore of his shirt and thrust his member into her mouth. Oh my God, she thought, I love this. I worship this penis.

As a man she had never thought of the penis as an object of desire. Tits, yes, sexy asses, sure, but a dick. No, the dick was just a tool. No longer. Now his staff was a symbol of maleness that she wanted to honor and revere.

Now the dream came back to her. She was no longer standing by a table. No, she was down on her back on the bed, looking up at his member. She pulled him closer and spread her legs. "Come inside me, my man," she whispered. "Come inside me!"

He pushed his dick into her and started to thrust. She soon found the same rhythm and they grunted as animals in heat on the small bed.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she pleaded, a complete woman by now. She was no longer capable of imagining being in his position.

Finally, when they were resting in each other's arms, Omar looked at her and said:

"You may come to feel that your new life will be like a prison. In my country women cannot move around freely as they can here. Moreover, you will be my concubine, not my wife, so the women of my family may despise you.

"But I will give you all the things that you ask for: clothes, jewelery, perfume. And you will get your own house, with your own servants, and I will come and visit you as often as I can."

"But now it is time to get out of this house of evil!"

Randi tried to put on the blue dress again, but it would no longer fit her. Omar, which had ordered her body measurements, had however brought her some slacks, a 36E bra, panties and a white wool sweater. They felt comfortable.

On their way out they stopped at the "office" of Farinelli. Omar gave him a briefcase. "Here are the 5 million dollars I owe you," he said. "I thank you for your services."

Farinelli smiled: "Maybe we can be of help another time, " he said. "After all, you people appreciate the value of a good harem."

That night Randi followed Omar on a first class flight to Oman. Omar never let go of her false Omanian passport.

The images in this presentations are taken from Bignaturals.com and the Victoria's Secret web site. This is a work of fiction and there is absolutely no relationship between the fictional characters and the models depicted.


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