Peggy has been my only visitor and the pain and humiliations that I have suffered at her hands have not always made her welcome company. Well, to be perfectly honest, there have been others who have visited me here but they all worked for Peggy. They only added to my shame and I probably will not tell you about all of them. Your first question would probably be, “Why did you stay — Why not be a man and leave?” I coundn’t!! This room is approximately twenty feet square and I was wearing a fifteen foot chain attached to my right ankle. I could travel to my bed, my chair, the television set and the bathroom. I could not even reach the door and if I could it wouldn’t help because it was always locked. The room had no windows and calling for help was a waste of strength because this large house is located in the center of a four hundred acre farm. In the beginning I honestly did try to conjure up ways to escape but each time Peggy would devise means to punish me. She broke my spirit and now I offer no resistance to her devious plans.
I guess you are wondering how I managed to be in such a pathetic situation. To be honest, I must admit that it is partly my own fault even though I do feel that Peggy was over reacting to a degree. As I look back now, I don’t believe that my punishment was her sole motive. It all started in 1990, or maybe it was 1989. It has been rather difficult to keep up with time. Peggy was away at a medical convention and I had closed my law practice for a week. I hardly even knew the girl I was spending the week with. We met in a bar and I invited her out here to the farm for drinks and some swimming. As you probably guessed, we ended up in bed together and she decided to stay for the entire week. As luck would have it, Peggy came home early and caught us together. I should have been suspicious when she showed very little anger. She simply ask the girl to leave and told me that we would discuss my indiscretions in the morning. When the morning came I discovered the damn chain around my ankle and although I tried, I could not free myself. Peggy had moved all of her things into the guest room and all of my clothes had been moved somewhere.
I raised holy hell that first day when I discovered the chain. Peggy stayed extremely calm and refused to argue with me. While pretending to unlock the chain, she gave me a shot in my leg that completely knocked me out. When I awoke I not only had the chain on my leg but my arms were also chained to the bed.
My first reaction was anger but after an hour that dissolved into self pity and by the time Peggy finally entered the room, real fear had ensued. She pulled a chair up to my bedside and very coolly explained that what I had done to her was not acceptable. I tried to apologize and promised that it would never happen again.
She said, “All of you men are the same. You will promise anything but as long as that thing between your legs is working you will abuse and take advantage of women. I don’t think you are capable of knowing how we feel as women and I am going to teach you a lesson. It may take a long time but when I am through, you are going to understand how it feels to be a woman. Remember one thing — I’m not doing this to punish. I’m doing it because I still love you and I want you to grasp some reality. I want you to see the world through my eyes.”
“How long do you plan to keep me here? I asked.
“As long as it takes, which could be quite a while”, is all she would say.
She reached into her medical bag and removed a hypodermic needle and a small vile of clear liquid. She loaded the hypodermic and began to rub cotton on my arm.
“You don’t need to give me any more knock-out drops. As you can see, I’m not going anywhere”.
“Oh, this will not make you sleep. This is estrogen. Before you know it, you are going to have so much of this in your system that you may not even be able to find that tiger that hangs between your legs.”
Before I could raise an objection, she plunged the needle into my arm and emptied the liquid into my vein. I was so shocked that all I could do was stare at the tiny hole that was left in my arm.
“As you know, darling, working as a plastic surgeon has brought me in contact with many transsexuals. I have helped many of them become the women they wanted and needed to be. I have never met a group of people that respected and appreciated femininity as passionately as these men do. Well, most of them are not men any more but as they go through the change, it has always been such a pleasure for me to watch them cast aside all of their pseudo macho garbage and become soft feminine loving creatures. This is about to happen to you so you might as well relax and enjoy the wonderful changes.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. There was no way she could get away with this. My anger was uncontrollable. I screamed at her. I tried to rip the chains from the wall but they didn’t give an inch. Every vile macho phrase I could think of was directed at her. I even told her that if I ever got my hands free I would kill her. I was kicking and screaming when she left the room. I pulled at my chains until my wrist were bruised and bleeding. About two hours later, Peggy came in and gave me a sedative and I slept.
For three weeks I lay chained to that bed. Peggy would visit me twice a day, once before she left for work and once when she returned home. She would, each day, give me another of the estrogen shots, help me with the bed pan, wash and feed me. I would beg her to unlock my hands but she would only say, “Not now darling”. I knew that it was only a matter of time before my law partner got suspicious and came looking for me. She could not call me in sick forever. I decided to remain calm and just wait her out but on the third day of my incarceration, Peggy brought in one of her little helpers. Without a word, the young woman began setting up equipment beside my bed. Peggy never told me the girl’s name, she just introduced her as my electrologest.
There was no way I was going to let that woman near my face so I began to move my face urgently back and forth. Didn’t faze Peggy. She gave me another shot and when I awoke, my mustache was gone — forever. The next day Peggy explained that I had a choice. I could behave myself and cooperate or get another shot. I got another shot. The third day I cooperated. Most people can only stand one hour sessions of electrolysis because of the pain. This girl worked for over eight hours at a time. Each morning, before she left for work, Peggy would give me shots of novocain in my face to kill the pain. These usually wore off by midday and I was forced to bear the anguish.
Finally, one day Peggy told me that it was time to take the chains off my arms but that I would have to continue to wear the one on my ankle. She explained that I could grab her and hurt her — Maybe even kill her but she wanted to remind me that she was the only person who knew where I was. If something happened to her, I would eventually starve to death. I was so pleased at the prospect of having the use of my hands again that I promised to behave. Before she released my hands she rubbed a smelly white cream all over my arms and legs. After about thirty minutes she removed the cream with a wet wash cloth and I was shocked to see that all of my hair came off with the cream. I then realized what the cream was but for fear that she wouldn’t release my hands, I kept my mouth shut and didn’t complain. I knew that it would grow back.
Being able to dispense with that damn bedpan was probably the greatest pleasure of my newly acquired freedom. My first act of liberty was a trip to the bathroom and a long shower. The chain on my leg made bathing awkward but I managed. On the way out I stopped at the mirror to inspect my face and was truly shocked by what I saw. I looked like I had just gone fifteen rounds with Joe Lewis and lost. My face was extremely red and swollen but Peggy assured me that I would heal in a few days and then my face would be as smooth as a baby’s behind. I had my doubts but time did prove her to be correct. I had enjoyed my mustache for over five years and I looked funny without it. However, I had to admit that it might be nice not to have to shave every morning.
When I returned to the room, Peggy had changed my bed and laid out what looked like some of her clothes across the end of the bed.
“Are you moving back into this room to keep me company?” I asked nodding to the female clothes.
“No”, she answered. “These are for you. I want you dressed in skirts and blouses or a dress during the day and at night you are to sleep in one of these pretty gowns.” She opened my closet door so that I could see inside. “As you can see, your male clothes have been removed. I’m sorry that your female wardrobe is not yet complete but it will grow. Your drawers are full of bras, panties, hose and slips. You will use them! I’m a little disappointed that you will not be able to use the pretty panties I got you because you can’t get them on over the chain. I’ll figure a way later.”
I couldn’t believer what I was hearing. This had gone too far and I told her so. “There is no way you can force me to wear those clothes. And, Furthermore, you are not giving me any more of those hormone shots. This has gone far enough and I am not going to allow it to go any further. Enough is enough! You have had your fun and you have punished me for my indiscretion, but now it is over. I have a successful law practice and it is time for me to get back to work. Your little games have already probably cost me dozens of new clients and I’m so far behind that it will take months to catch up.”
Peggy was standing near the door — Just out of the range that my chain would allow me to move. “You don’t have a law practice anymore”, she said.
“What are you talking about?”
She reached into her purse and handed me a folded newspaper clipping. “Read that.”
I almost fainted when I read the clipping. It was from the obituaries section and it was my obituary. According to this, I was dead. I sat on the bed to keep from falling. “Peggy, you are crazy! How the hell did you manage this?”
“It’s not actually very difficult when you work in a hospital.” She handed me another sheet of paper. “Here is a copy of your death certificate. You can keep it if you like. I’ve got several copies. As you can see in the newspaper article, you were cremated and only close family members were there, meaning just me. Your law partner insisted on having a little memorial service for you but not too many people showed up.”
“Peggy, you must be crazy. This is against the law.” I still felt like this was a dream and I would wake-up soon.
“Your law partner paid me well for your share of the business. I’ll be able to buy you lots of pretty clothes and there is plenty of money for any operation you might need. Do you want me to help you dress or can you manage by yourself?”
“I am not wearing those clothes!”
“Suit yourself, dear. I’m going to prepare dinner and if you are dressed, you will eat. If not, you are going to get fairly hungry.”
I missed dinner that night. I spent the entire next day trying to figure a way to either remove the chain from my ankle or disconnect it from the wall. I had no success. Feeling defeated, that evening for dinner I wore a cotton dress in gingham black and white checks. It had a white sailor collar with black piping. Dinner was delayed because I had omitted the padded bra and slip. I soon corrected my mistake and Peggy brought me a very tasty meal. She even joined me and we ate together. The dress did fit nicely and, although I didn’t tell Peggy, it was quite comfortable.
I can’t say exactly when it was that I surrendered to Peggy’s efforts to feminize me. I put up what I thought was a good fight, but one day it just didn’t seem to matter any more. Maybe it was the day I first noticed the small pert breast that were forming on my chest and realized that other very feminine changes were taking place around my hips and thighs. Most likely, however, it was the night I was visited by Big Al. This is the part of my story that I had planned to leave out but I have decided to tell it so that you can understand just how my spirit was finally broken.
One Saturday afternoon, Peggy came into my room to bring me some new bras that she had just purchased. All of my old bras were padded and she thought that I was ready for non-padded “B” cup. To my surprise, I filled it fairly well. I know that I shouldn’t admit this but I felt a certain amount of pride when I saw how good the new bra looked, knowing that the curves were all mine. My hair had become very long by this time and all Peggy had ever done to it was brush it and put a clip on one side to pull it back out of my face.
“The new bra looks nice,” Peggy said. “But we need to do something with that hair. You ready for your first perm?”
I don’t know why I answered the way I did. Possibly I just wanted to please her or maybe it was the feeling I got when I saw myself in the new bra. I think it shocked her as much as it did me when I said, “OK.”
By four o’clock the last of the rollers were out. When Peggy brushed my hair into a very feminine style and I looked at myself in the mirror, I could see almost no trace of my old masculine self. I would have never admitted it to her, but I liked it. The way it seemed to bounce when I moved my head sent little chills through my body.
“You look lovely,” Peggy said. “Just one little finishing touch and it will be perfect.”
She picked up something that I thought was some kind of curling iron and moved it to the side of my head. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my ear. When I looked toward the mirror I saw that she had pierced my right ear. Maybe it was the pain that brought me back to my senses but I suddenly felt like a fool for allowing her to destroy my manhood. It was like I had been in a daze, infatuated by the image of the new hair-do and suddenly the pain and realization of what was happening brought me back to reality. Without thinking, I hit her with my open hand across her face. She fell backward with a startled look on her face.
“Damn you!” She had tears in her eyes. “You were making such good progress and now that macho garbage just had to surface. Look at yourself in the mirror and be honest with yourself — The man is gone. The sooner you let go of the male inside, the easier it is going to be for you. Tonight we get rid of Mr. Macho for good.” She turned and walked out, slamming the door behind.
I had no notion of what she had in mind for me next and I did feel a little guilty for hitting her but I refused to appologize. I really didn’t expect her to bring my dinner because usually when I was bad I didn’t eat. Television was dull so around ten o’clock I decided to get ready for bed. I put on my raspberry nylon gown with the v-neckline trimmed in lace. I don’t know why I chose that one because it was one of my most feminine gowns. For some reason, I just wanted to see how it would look with the new haid-do.
I was in bed when the door opened. Peggy came in with a huge man that I had never seen before. It was embarrassing to have a man see me in the sexy gown and feminine hair so I pulled the covers up as high as I could.
“Darling, this is Al,” Peggy said. “He is the boy friend of one of my transsexual girls I’m working with and he wants to talk with you.”
‘Oh no,’ I thought. ‘She has brought this goon here to beat me up for hitting her.’
“She is going to be a real looker, Doc,” Al said. “If we can eliminate the attitude problem, you’re going to have a winner here.”
“I’ll leave you two alone to get better acquainted Peggy said. She looked at me, smiled and said, “Now you be sweet dear.”
I was scared! When Peggy left, Al walked over to my bed. I pulled the covers even higher, to just under my eyes. I was shaking all over.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Doing a poor job of hiding the fear in my voice, I said, “Mark.”
Al gently pulled the covers back ignoring my feeble efforts to hold on to them. I was completely exposed and at that moment I wished so much that I had not chosen such a feminine gown.
“You look nice sweetheart but that name Mark just doesn’t fit. We need to call you something else like …… maybe … Linda. That’s it. We will call you Linda.” He began to gently rub my arm. “It is a shame to keep a pretty little thing like you chained. You be nice to me and I will see what I can do to get the Doc to take this chain off.”
A ray of hope? Would he really help me? What did he mean by being nice? I didn’t want to turn down a chance for outside help but I was more afraid right then than I had ever been before in my life.
I didn’t have to wait long to find out what he meant by ‘being nice’. He leaned over and kissed me right in the mouth. I was afraid to struggle too much for fear that he would hurt me and, at the same time, if I didn’t, he might think I liked what he was doing. I just went limp. He began to fondle my small breast as his tongue parted my lips and was thrust deeply into my mouth. The kiss seemed to last forever. I could feel my nipples becoming erect as he gently massaged them between his fingers. His lips moved from mine to my breast and he began to suck. I couldn’t believe how good it felt and I experienced feelings of gult for liking it. I don’t remember doing it but when he pulled away, my hand was on the back of his head.
He stood up and quickly removed his clothes. God, was he big. He looked like Arnold Schwarzenegger and I became so afraid of what would happen next that I was trembling all over. I felt so helpless. I pleaded with him to leave me alone. I didn’t threaten like a man would, I begged like a girl. Al just patted me on the shoulder and told me to relax and he would be gentle. He sat me on the edge of the bed and sat down beside me. As he began to kiss me again he took my hand and placed it on his penis. With his hand on mine he forced me to move back and forth on his large male shaft. His tongue was deep in my mouth and his other arm was around my shoulders holding me like a vice.
He then stood in front of me while I still sat on the bed. Very gently, he began to run his fingers through my hair. That pulsating male shaft of his was only inches from my face. He slowly pulled my face forward until the dampness of his penis was touching my lips. I knew what he wanted but I refused to open my mouth. With his left hand firmly behind my head he used his right hand to pinch my nose. I couldn’t breath. When I opened my mouth to get a breath he plunged his maleness deep into my throat. With his hands in my hair, he moved my head back and forth. He would say, “suck” and pull my hair. Each time he would pull it a little harder until finally I was sucking. I thought it would never end but I knew what would happen when it did and I wasn’t looking forward to that either. I could feel the heat of his shaft in my mouth and taste the juices of his manhood. I braced myself for the flood that I knew was to come.
It never came. He pulled out, kissed me lightly and laid me on my back. He pushed my gown up around my waist and stood over me looking at my nakedness. “Looks like the estrogen is working. You need to get the Doc to remove that little thing. It will only get in your way.” As he slid a pillow under my fanny, he said, “You need to relax, Linda. This might hurt at first but if you are tense it will hurt more.” He picked up his pants from the floor and removed a tube of lubricating jelly. After spreading a liberal amount on his penis he rubbed it on my anus. Using his finger he even applied generous amounts up inside me. His finger slid in and out easily without pain.
I begged him not to do this but he only smiled and said, “You’ll thank me someday, honey.”
He mounted me and placed the head of his penis against the opening of my anus. He applied gentle pressure and I tried to relax but I couldn’t. He pushed harder and I felt my body being penetrated. The pain was overwhelming. He silenced my cries with kisses. I felt as though my flesh was being ripped apart. He continued a slow rhythmically in and out motion. As the pain decreased slightly, he increased his speed which seemed to keep the pain level constant. Even though I knew that this was the most horrible thing that had ever happened to me, I could feel my nipples growing hard and erect. Al’s breathing became fast and heavy. The speed and force of his thrusts increased and I found myself pushing my pelvic up to meet his attacks. I felt the explosion deep inside my body. I could feel his warm male juices as they surged from his body into mine. Al relaxed and I felt the full weight of his body. He kissed me one more time very passionately and this time I found that my tongue was deep inside his mouth.
He got up and began to silently dress. I lay on the bed feeling embarrassed and confused. Al walked to the door and stopped. He turned and said, “Linda, do yourself a favor. Forget all of that masculine shit. It is too big a waste. You are all woman and believe me, you will never be happy in the male role.” With that he was gone and I never saw Big Al again.
I didn’t see Peggy again that night. Sleep was out of the question because my thoughts were in a turmoil. Big Al had hurt me, embarrassed me and insulted my masculinity, yet, I had responded to him to a degree. There were parts of our encounter that had excited me. Maybe Peggy was right or maybe the estrogen had just changed me so much. I didn’t have the answer and sometime during the early morning I fell asleep.
I awoke the next morning with Peggy shaking my shoulder. “How do you feel,” she asked.
“Sore,” I answered.
“You look radiant She leaned over and kissed me. That was the first time she had shown any affection since all of this began. She served me a delicious breakfast and I didn’t realize how hungry I was. We talked in a surprisingly civil manner. She asked me about my evening with Al and to my own amazement I told her the entire story. I even told her about my feelings, doubts and how I had responded to Al’s touch. She didn’t laugh at me or say I told you so. She listened with an understanding ear. She even checked my rectum to make sure that there were no tears that needed treatment.
From that day on, Peggy and I got along beautifully. I offered no resistance to her attempts to feminize me. When she told me to do something, I did it. If she thought I would look better with pierced ears, they were pierced. When she thought that I would look good as a blond, I became a blond. Somewhere along the way I began to enjoy my new gender and I found myself looking forward to her next effort to make me a complete female. My chain was removed and having the run of the house helped me enjoy my feminity even more. I kept the house clean and had dinner ready for her when she came home from the hospital. My breast had developed and I was now wearing a “C” cup. The shape of my hips, butt and thighs had changed into pleasent feminine curves. Even in jeans and a sweatshirt, my femininity was not hidden. My hair was now down to my shoulders, I was still blond and I was learning to care for and style it.
Peggy had been attempting to give me speech therapy. I was making some progress but it was slow. I could raise my pitch and imitate a feminine voice pattern fairly well at times but it was difficult to maintain over a long conversations. There were times when I became very discouraged with my efforts. Peggy said that the only thing that was preventing me from leaving the house and having more normal social life was my voice. Being free from my chain was wonderful and the house and grounds were large but after a while it all just seemed like a bigger prison.
One evening, Peggy came home excited. “I have the solution to your voice problems,” She said. “I have spent the day with Dr. Toby Mayer from California. He is in town for this week doing some work with several of my transsexual girls and he can perform magic with the voice.”
“Is he a speech therapist?” I asked.
“No, he is a surgeon. There is a new procedure that was developed by physicians in Japan and as far as I know, Dr. Mayer is the only person in the US that is doing it. The operation is simple and the results have been sensational.”
Words like surgeon and operation were frightening. I was not at all sure I wanted to pursue this any further and I told Peggy so.
Peggy just ignored my protest and continued, “This is not like the old risky operation that required cutting the vocal cords. In this process, cartilage that exist behind the cords is made into elongated tissue and tied to the upper and lower extremities of the vocal cords. This raises the pitch. The operation is done under local anesthesia. The patient selects her pitch by counting aloud while the surgeon tightens or loosens the cartilage until the desired pitch has been obtained. It is virtually risk free and I have scheduled you for tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.”
That was less than twelve hours away. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t at all sure that I wanted to undergo an operation but I was tired of trying to learn a new speech pattern. Having my ears pierced was one thing but having an operation in a hospital was rather frightening. I was confused and I think Peggy planned it that way. She didn’t want me to have a lot of time to think about what was happening. So, early the next morning, dressed in a simple shirtwaist dress with my hair pulled back in a pony tail, Peggy discretely checked me into the hospital as one of her patients. It was the first time I had been off our property as a female and that was nearly as terrifying as the operation itself.
By ten o’clock it was all over. Peggy had assisted Dr. Mayer with the operation because she wanted to learn the procedure. In fact, it was Peggy who decided when the pitch was precise and not me. I was told not to try and talk for the next two weeks while everything healed. This also worked to Peggy’s advantage. She knew that I could offer no verbal protest when she suggested that since I was already in the hospital, she would do a little cosmetic reconstruction on my face. Nothing drastic — Maybe make my nose a little more petite and inject a little something into my lips to make them more attractive.
The next day I was put to sleep and rolled back into the operating room. I’ve known Peggy much longer than you have but I’ll bet that you have already guessed that Peggy is one lady that gets her way and is head strong about finishing what she starts. I guess I probably knew in the back of my own mind that she couldn’t be trusted to make only minor changes to my face. At this point, maybe I wanted the changes. Maybe, subconsciously, I realized that there was no turning back because of all of the extensive changes that had already taken place in my mind and body. Most likely I had acquired a desire for the same end result that Peggy favored. I’m really not sure just what was going through my thoughts that day.
When I awoke that afternoon in the recovery room, I knew at once that more than just my nose and lips had been altered. The pain was intense and even though my nose was bandaged the major pain was not located in my face. I slid my trembling hand to between my legs and even though I felt bandages, I could tell that there were no male organs beneath those bandages. My balls and penis were gone. I had finally paid the ultimate price for my indiscretion. I was a total woman now and there would be no turning back. Some who read this will understand what I’m going to say next but others will not. I was pleased! In fact, I felt intoxicated with excitement as I anticipated the new life that lay before me.
I have always felt that the hardest parts of being a man were the stupid macho games we had to play. We pretend that we do not feel pain, that we can handle all situations, that tenderness is sissy, that might makes right and most of all, we must pretend that the fact that we are never taught to love is unimportant. I do not have to pretend any more.
Peggy and I still live together, although that may not always be the case since I am now dating several men and one is getting rather serious. Peggy has introduced me to all of our old friends as her late husband’s younger sister. She explains that I moved in with her after Mark’s death and we get along so well that I may just stay. I have a job now. Believe it or not, in my old law practice as a legal aide. My ex-partner thinks that I am Mark’s sister and he has been trying get me into his bed since the first week I worked for him. Last night he was successful. Who knows — maybe I will marry him someday. Wouldn’t that be ironical — The law practice would be half mine again.