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Sissified

By Riley Kates

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2017 Riley Kates

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Disclaimer: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic, adult language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable which might include: male/male sexual practices, multiple partner sexual practices, strong BDSM themes and elements, erotic elements and fetish play. Fetishes may include age play, bondage, dubcon, hypnosis, mind control, and sexualized humiliation. This e-book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/Fetish titles without the guidance of an experience practitioner. Neither the publisher nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles. All characters are consenting adults. This consent may be explicit, implied, or secret. All characters are adults over the age of 18.


Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, or events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.


First Edition

©2017




Part 1

I sat there in the waiting room, doing my best to hide my irritation. I was supposed to be a professional, right? On the one hand, this meant that I needed to be patient with my employer. If the corporation decided that I needed a physical exam, then fine. Whatever. But at the same time, I was a professional, meaning that I worked hard. I intended to do well, no matter the cost.

Some of my colleagues enjoyed talking about the idea of a work/life balance. Not me. As far as I was concerned, work was everything. I wanted to be rich, so I climbed the corporate ladder, and I had no problem pushing anyone out of my way.

In my first year, I betrayed my best friend. We were both interning together, but only one of us could be hired. So maybe I downloaded a little bit of pornography onto his computer. Then a concerned, anonymous individual just happened to email HR and the IT department to make sure my friend got the help he needed.

Yeah, he was fired in about five minutes.

Even four years later, I still smirked whenever I thought of that.

He may have been my best friend, but that didn't mean we weren't competitors. Competition is everything. I loved my job because it all came down to aggression. This was sales. You found someone, you convinced them that they needed something, and you got their money. It was a game. It was a game for sharks and tigers.

Granted, I got a lot of attention for my positive attitude. Not all of it was the right kind of attention though. That was why I was sitting in that physical room. I knew it had to do with Monica.

Monica. Whenever I thought of her name, I figured that she was soft. I figured that because she was the girl who sent out the birthday announcements and brought in cupcakes every Friday that she had to be some sort of weakling. She was more interested in making friends than sales. Didn't she know that the accounts were the only ones who really mattered? We had to chase these numbers on our screens, pushing them higher and higher.

She was a fool, or so I believed.

But then, word came down that certain people within the company needed to go get a physical exam. It didn't matter that I had already done one this year. Apparently, someone convinced the board that I had to do a second one.

So there I was, sitting in the waiting room, tapping my fingers. Part of me wanted to try to be nice to the other guys in the room, because we were all men, but I didn't really care about them. No, I wanted to get back to my phone so I could get on some sales calls. Hell, even cold calling would have been better than just sitting here.

The first guy had gone in about thirty minutes ago. Then the receptionist, a pretty blonde behind the window, called my name. "Martin, Dr. Blake is ready to see you now."

I got up without acknowledging the receptionist, and I went through the door toward the back area of the clinic. There was already another young woman waiting for me. She had dark red hair, and she had on pale blue scrubs. She smiled at me. Despite the scrubs, I could see that she had a gorgeous little body.

"Please come with me," she said.

For the next few minutes, I wasted even more time getting my blood pressure taken. She weighed me, and she checked my height.

"You're quite a specimen," the nursing assistant said to me.

"Thanks," I replied, just one puff of air. I didn't bother trying to hit on this woman. Considering the number of guys like me who were already here, I figured she wouldn't give me a shot. Besides, I wanted to save my best game for my sales calls.

Dating could be fun, but I'd rather go out to a bar and pick up some cheap slut. A girl like this, one who works in some high-end clinic downtown, would probably need something else, a promise. I didn't have time for that.

"Dr. Blake will be with you shortly," said the redhead before she left me alone in one of the exam rooms. "Don't be nervous. Dr. Blake is very skilled."

"I'm not nervous."

"Right," said the nursing assistant. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, like she knew a secret or she simply didn't believe me. I shook my head, wondering if I should complain about the customer service. Then I decided I didn't really care.

But here I was, waiting some more. The irritation caught at the back of my head. I pulled out my phone, checking it. I wanted to go through some emails, to double check a new policy.

I couldn't get any signal.

I shut my phone back in my pocket, again trying to hide that clawing frustration. I hated this. I hated wasting time. I hated knowing that some of my colleagues could be out there, making sales right now. Did Monica do this? Did she do it on purpose? Did she want to get the best sellers out of the way so she could boost her numbers at the end of the month?

Rather than snarl, I found myself actually grinning at the possibility. No, Monica couldn't do that...could she? If so, she would definitely get a lot more respect from me. Friday morning cupcakes were cute, but I didn't think she belonged in our company. She would have done better as a housewife, making lunches and kissing her husband's cheek on his way to work.

If she wanted to be adorable, she should have been off in a kitchen somewhere, not on the sales floor, not playing with the big boys.

Was I a sexist? Probably. But then again, I figured sexism existed for a reason. It didn't just happen. If women ended up with the shorter end of the stick, it was because they didn't bother to fight for more. And if they weren't willing to fight, then women obviously didn't deserve anything better.

Finally, the door opened again, and a young woman in a lab coat strolled across the threshold. She had a tablet computer tucked in the crook of her arm. "Martin, it's good to meet you," she said.

"Yeah, right, whatever. Can we please just get this over with?" I asked. "I have work to do."

"Yes, I'm sure you want to get back to it as soon as possible," Dr. Blake replied.

"Yes, I do."

"Okay, so I just need to ask you a few questions, then I will give you a shot, and you can get back to your life."

"Questions?" I asked. Then I decided I didn't really care. Whatever. I just want to get this over with.

"First, what are your feelings on women?"

"Is this a psychological evaluation?"

"Partly," Dr. Blake told me. Then she repeated her question. "What are your feelings on women?"

"Women are great." I stared right back at her. If she was going to ask me a stupid question, then I would give her a stupid answer.

Dr. Blake didn't rise to my bait. Instead, she simply typed something on her computer before moving on. "Define masculinity."

Really? It took all of my self-control not to exhale with boredom. I really, really wanted to sigh so she could get a good feel for my disdain. But again, I was a professional, so I told her the truth this time. "Masculinity is all about getting what you want. If you want to be a real man, then you need to be aggressive, and you need to take what is yours. I know that everyone likes to think that we are a civilized society, but those rules are really paper thin. It's so much better if you can just be honest and get what you want. It isn't about teamwork. It isn't about the greater good. It's always about doing what's best for yourself."

"So masculinity is selfishness?"

As she asked, I searched those words for some note of dismay or disgust. Instead, Dr. Blake seemed to have nothing but academic curiosity.

"That's right."

"Final question, do you consider yourself to be an alpha male?"

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"An alpha male is a man who is accustomed to taking control. He is a leader. His capacity for dominance is probably the most important element of his personality."

"Then yeah, that's me," I said. "I'm an alpha male."

"I'm glad to hear it. Can you pull up your shirt sleeve for me?" Dr. Blake went over to the counter, she opened one of the drawers, and she pulled out a syringe along with a package of antiseptic wipes.

"You're not nervous, are you?" Dr. Blake asked me.

"No. Of course not."

Dr. Blake wiped down the crook of my elbow. She tapped one of my veins, double checking to make sure she was in the right place. "This is a very special compound I'm going to be giving you."

"What does it do?" I asked. Despite everything I said about taking on the world, I could feel that little prick of anxiety at the back of my neck. Like so many other people, I wasn't fond of needles.

Dr. Blake didn't answer right away. Instead, she concentrated on administering the medicine. I figured it was a vitamin compound or something. I was here for the company, after all, which meant that they needed me to be healthy and energetic.

She pressed down on the plunger after that initial prick. I didn't react. I was stoic, like a real man.

"There we go," she said. "Just sit back, and we’ll have you out of here in a little bit."

Dr. Blake turned around, and she left the room, closing the door behind her.

The temptation to simply leave proved almost irresistible. Then again, I figured that if I just dashed off without filling out all the correct paperwork, they would only make me come back. So I sat there, tapping my fingers on my knee.

I started to get drowsy, but I shook it off. Back in college I routinely took on all night study sessions. But that didn't really bother me.

The door opened again, and I expected to see Dr. Blake come back. Maybe she had a form for me to sign or something.

Panting, someone ran into the room and shut the door behind him. He kept his back to the door even as his chest rose and fell. At first, I only felt disdain for this guy, whoever he happened to be.

If Dr. Blake wanted to call me an alpha male, then this guy had to be a hard-core beta. He had smooth, hairless cheeks, slender shoulders, and he was shorter than me by six or seven inches. He didn't look like a real man, not at all. The fact that most of his body was completely smooth only made it worse. He looked like some effeminate model, the kind of guy you might see having tea downtown.

"Martin, you have to help me!" he cried out, his voice high pitched, like he hadn't hit puberty yet.

"Do I know you?" I asked.

"Martin, it's me, Mark!" Mark was another salesman at the company, only he had been the first one to go in to see the doctor. Mark was also my height, definitely taller than average. Not only that, he routinely worked out. He had a solid build, and he was definitely respectable as a man. We may not have been friends or anything, but I looked right into his face, searching for some sign of the guy I used to know.

"Mark?" I asked, but the longer I looked at his face, the more I could see the resemblance.

This person looked like Mark, if Mark was small and effeminate.

"Yes, it's me. They did something to me. You have to get out of here before they do it to you too!"

I was about to say something else, but the door opened again. Mark tried to keep it shut, but the redhead simply burst in as though he had no strength at all.

"We didn't give you permission to leave your room, Michelle."

"That's not my name!" Mark cried out, sounding more like a little girl than anything else.

The redheaded nursing assistant grabbed him by his wrist. He tried to tear himself away, but he didn't seem strong enough. The redhead never should have been able to do this, especially to someone like Mark, yet all of his muscles had somehow atrophied. He looked so small, so weak.

Honestly, I didn't know if I was supposed to be shocked or disgusted or maybe both. Either way, the redhead pointed to me. "You need to sit down. And you," she said to Mark, "are coming with me."

I started to stand up, only to feel a wave of dizziness. The fatigue quintupled, crashing down on me like a tsunami hitting a sand castle. I fell down onto the exam table. I swallowed, blinking, trying to overcome the exhaustion with nothing but my will.

Yeah, it didn't work.

"Martin, wake up! You have to get out of here!"

Those were the last words I heard before I completely lost consciousness. Sleep swallowed me.


"Wake up, Martin. It's time to wake up. I want you awake for this part."

As those words penetrated the sleep, I could feel someone touching me. A soft hand glided along my cheek, petting me. It felt really nice, so nice in fact that part of me just wanted to relax.

"Wake up, Martin," came a voice again. Then I remembered who it belonged to.

Dr. Blake.

I blinked my eyes open, looking up at her again. She had lovely, dark brown hair, red lips, and piercing brown eyes. The way she looked at me, it somehow made me feel smaller, more vulnerable.

Then it occurred to me.

"You drugged me!" I growled back at her, trying to sit up immediately. I had other things I meant to say to her, like how I was going to sue her ass. By the time I was done with her, she would be penniless and in jail.

"Yes, I did," she said. But as I tried to sit up, I couldn't. Then I felt it, a leather strap over my forehead. When I tried to reach for it, to remove the straps, I felt another set of leather manacles around my wrists. Hell, I couldn't even kick out.

They had completely strapped me down. I wiggled and squirmed, trying to get free, but I couldn't.

"I'm sorry you had that little conversation with Mark. Frankly, I think the process works better if it's a surprise."

"What are you talking about?" I snarled back at her.

"Today, you are going to experience something special, Martin. You see, your employer has noticed that you have been overly hostile and aggressive at work. That's why you are about to be transformed."

"Transformed?" I did my best not to sound nervous.

"That's right," she said, stroking my cheek. "Just like Mark, we are going to turn you into a beta male, a sissy." By the time we are done with you, you're going to feel this intense desire to be completely subservient to every woman you meet. If a woman tells you to do something, you will want to do it. It won't matter how humiliating or embarrassing it is. You'll just feel the compulsion to be absolutely subservient."

"No, that's not possible." Whatever sedative she had given me before was still swirling through my body, making it very difficult for me to think. I couldn't stack my thoughts together.

"You'll see," she said. "Oh, and one of your colleagues, Monica I believe, made a special request on your behalf."

"What request?"

"She wanted us to make sure that you have a new ambition."

"What ambition?" I asked, repeating her words.

"You'll see," she said.

Dr. Blake just smiled down at me again. Then she patted me on the head, almost like I was some lab animal. She left the room, leaving me to look around. For the most part, this space was completely bare. I didn't even see any countertops or drawers. Then I looked up, and I saw a line of bisecting the ceiling.

Two panels appeared, splitting apart. Then some kind of machine was lowered from the ceiling. It had multiple appendages, each one tipped by some high-tech device. Luckily, I didn't see any blades. Instead, each arm seemed to end up with some kind of lens, like something you might expect to see on a camera or a phone.

The machine started to move.

Two of the arms came over to me, and then pointed downward. They emitted red light that pulsated right down at my eyes. I should have looked away, but something compelled me to watch, to keep still.

I had no idea that a woman like Dr. Blake was capable of programming a human. I had no idea that she would be able to use her science to alter my very personality.

At that point, I didn't know what to expect or to believe. But then I felt the other arms begin to move along my skin. They started at my feet, and they worked their way up slowly. Warm tingling played along my nerves.

Occasionally, I tried to pull on my restraints, to get free. At one point, the straps actually seemed to loosen. I didn't know how that was possible. The leather manacles were way too strong for me. I never could have actually broken through them. Did that mean my arms or wrists were actually getting smaller?

No, that couldn't be possible.

Before I could take advantage of the sudden slack, the shackles seemed to tighten automatically.

The red lights continued to play right above my eyes. They made it hard to think, hard to breathe. For some reason, I started thinking of Dr. Blake. She was a beautiful woman. It would be nice if I could serve her, if she would allow me the permission to worship her body. I could massage her and go down on her. I would lick her pussy as long as she liked. Not only that, I would cook for her and clean for her.

No!

I wasn't about to start thinking of myself as some kind of servant. I wasn't a slave, and I never would be. I was a man, a real man, which meant that I would always be in charge.

With a substantial push of willpower, I managed to get Dr. Blake out of my head.

Except I started thinking about another woman. Monica. I could see her with her light brown hair, her blue eyes, and her big smile. I could imagine her at her desk, and I would come up to her, and I would tell her about the messages she had missed because she was out.

Wait. Was I actually thinking of myself as her secretary?

No way. No fucking way!

"Is there anything else I can get you, miss?"

"No, I'm good," she would say to me, and then I would go back to my desk outside of her office. There would be flowers there, and people would call. I would answer the phones, I would help Monica with her emails, and I would make sure that she made it to all of her appointments on time.

I kept expecting some burst of hot, incandescent rage. No matter what, I would never be a secretary. I was better than that. I was the kind of guy who could outsell anyone in the company, probably in the whole city. I was better than a secretary. I was important.

The red lights kept playing above my eyes. My body kept tingling. And then it happened again. The straps and seemed to loosen for just a second, only to tighten before I could take advantage of the situation.

I bucked and thrashed, pulling away as hard as I could, but it still didn't matter. My best efforts amounted to little more than squirming on that table.

The tingling moved up along my body. Pretty soon, I could feel it along my chest, then my shoulders, my neck, and even my cheeks. What was this machine doing to me?

I couldn't hide from the red lights, but I soon drifted back down into my thoughts. I thought of my boss again. Monica.

Wait. No. She wasn't my boss.

Monica would be standing in front of me, and I would be kneeling before her in her office. The door would be closed, and she would look into my eyes. "Are you wearing them like a good sissy?"

I would swallow, so nervous.

"Yes, Miss."

"Well, let's go ahead and see them."

At once, I would stand, though I would be careful to keep my head bowed down. This woman was my boss, after all. Above all else, I had to be respectful.

As she watched, I pulled the belt from my pants, and I set it aside, neatly on my chair. From there, I pulled down my pants, revealing my pink panties. They were soft, satiny.

"Lovely. Now do a little turn for me," Monica would say, circling her finger on the air. Again, I would be obedient for her, doing exactly as she commanded. And she would clap and laugh, and my cheeks would burn bright with blush, but that wouldn't matter.

I'd be her good little sissy.

I tried to shake off that image, but another bombarded me. No matter how hard I thought, struggling against the straps holding me down to that exam table, the images kept coming at me, pummeling me.

And after a while, they started to feel good.


The machine shut down, but I didn't move. I felt exhausted as I waited, wondering what was going to happen next. Because my head was strapped to the table as well, I couldn't even glance down at the rest of my body.

Then again, maybe that was a mercy because I didn't want to know what I looked like. I saw what this machine had done to Mark. What had it do to me?

The door opened again, and Dr. Blake stood above me. She swept her gaze along my body. "Very nice," she said. "How do you feel?"

I pressed my lips together, but I worried about how I would sound if I spoke. Would I be using the same girlish, high-pitched tone as Mark? What if I sound like some effeminate sissy?

"Tell me how you feel."

"I feel good. Tired, Doctor." And there it was, my own voice, yet it no longer sounded deep and masculine. Instead, I sounded like a cartoon character.

"I'm glad to hear it. And tell me, if you could put on any outfit right now, what would it be?"

This time, I doubled my efforts, struggling with every ounce of determination I possessed. I promised myself that I wouldn't answer her. As far as I was concerned, this was a test of my manhood. I needed to remain silent, Stoic and defiant. I would show this woman is that no matter how advanced her technology was, she couldn't control me. She couldn't force me to do anything.

And yet, my lips started to move almost immediately. This woman gave me a command, so I had to follow it. It was as though her desires could short-circuit my brain.

"If I had the chance to pick out my outfit right now, I would love to put on some knee-high socks, leather flats, a pleated skirt, pink panties, and a blouse with a little red tie."

"What would that make you?" Dr. Blake asked me.

Because she only asked the question and didn't give me a command, I could avoid answering her. Several seconds went by, and then she just smirked, almost as though this was a delicious game for her. "Tell me, what would that make you?"

Again, her demand short-circuited my ability to resist. "It would mean I was dressed like a schoolgirl," I told her.

"Yes, you'd be dressed like a cute little schoolgirl." Dr. Blake reached down, and she stroked my cheek. Her touch felt different. Then I realized why. I no longer had stubble along my skin. Ever since I hit puberty, there had always been that little bit of hair along my cheeks. Even if I shaved, I would be able to feel it, those little prickly follicles.

Except now, my cheek was completely, absolutely, totally smooth.

"In case you are wondering, we removed all of your body hair, per the request of your new boss."

"No, you can't do that!" I cried out, sounding like some damsel in distress. If I wanted to, I could probably fake being a woman on the phone. I sounded so much like a girl.

It wasn't fair! I was about to squeal at her, to tell her that she had to undo whatever she had done. I didn't understand the science, yet there had to be some way to give me my old body back, to clear those desires from my head.

"Are you ready to get up? Are you ready to be a good sissy?"

"Go to hell!"

"Young lady, this is very important for you to understand. I want to see exactly how you react. Now, your new employer asked me to leave some of your old personality intact. I have done this, but she also wants to make sure that you can be thoroughly trained. So we’re going to play a little game. I'm going to touch your sissy clit, and you're going to promise to be a good sissy. If you can do a very, very good job, I will allow you an orgasm before I put you in a chastity cage."

She spoke so clinically, sounding detached and neutral. Every comment was a declaration of what was going to happen. She spoke as though I was nothing but some kind of scientific experiment.

I didn't understand what she meant, not until Dr. Blake reached down between my legs. She stroked her fingertips over my cock, only it felt different.

I was smaller, a lot smaller.

Even so, I got hard almost immediately. As she worked her magical touch along my reduced genitals, I locked my teeth together, promising myself that I wouldn't give in.

Yeah, I managed to hold out for maybe six seconds. Then I started babbling, telling her exactly what she wanted to hear. "I promise, Dr. Blake, I'm going to be a good sissy for my new boss. I will be so good and so obedient! I'll do whatever she wants. I will be courteous and polite. I will do everything in my power to please her! I promise!"

"Good, but I think you can do better," she told me.

My eyes went wide. My body was practically vibrating with desperation, but it still wasn't good enough for her? I didn't know what else I could possibly do. I didn't know what else I could possibly say.

So I kept babbling, making one promise after another. I told her that my new boss would be able to dress me, that I would accept any uniform. I told her that I would even put on makeup if that would make my boss happy. I would do anything to be a good sissy.

And that's when Dr. Blake squeezed my shaft, forcing me to climax. She milked me, stroking me and jerking me off as those little spurts of come splashed along my body.

And when it was all over, she looked down at me. "That's right, sissy. You're going to be a good girl for your new boss."

Exhausted by my orgasm, I didn't say anything. Dr. Blake didn't need an answer though. Instead, she cleaned me off with another antiseptic wipe. Then she pulled out a small tube with a locking ring. She placed the ring at the base of my scrotum, and then she slipped the chastity cage over my shaft. "Remember, you belong to someone else now."

Those were the last words I heard before I fell asleep again.


When I woke up again, I automatically stretched out, lifting my arms above my head. I stretched my toes downward, enjoying the flexibility. It felt good to get the kinks out of my muscles.

But then I opened my eyes, and I saw the morning sunlight cutting across the room.

It all came back to me. I had gone in for a physical, only that Dr. had done something to me.

Tentatively, I slipped out of bed, looking around the rest of the room. There was a small, twin sized bed, a large mirror in the corner, and the desk covered in different kinds of makeup. Not only that, I spotted the closet. Realizing that I could feel the cool air along every inch of my skin, I went to the closet door, and I opened it.


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