NOT THAT BAD/Part Two

by Marlissa

The thought of Kimmie working a corner for a demanding pimp
excited Sampson. He thought of one the new boys who had just
been brought in sometime ago. He and his teammates had been
on their way to a Little League game when the "accident" had
occurred, all staged by the Guardians easily enough. The bus
driver and coach had been dispatched with ease and the boys
were trooped off the bus into the Guardian's semitrailer
quicktime. The bus had been tipped off the bridge into the
ravine and exploded on impact-- there would be no
investigations and the tragedy would be lamented and forgotten.
These big hauls were dangerous but profitable. The entire raid
had netted fifteen teenage and preteen boys, most of whom
would make desirable and thoroughly feminized lovers for their
future owners.

As they were being processed into their new home the
Complex, Jack had caught his eye. Sampson generally
preferred natural females and resisting the charms of using his
own chattel. Like the drug dealer who refuses to be tempted by
the addiction of using his own products, Sampson had
controlled his lust for the teen flesh for the most part. And
certainly the Guardians were kept from likewise being tempted
by the huge salaries they received. No Guardian had disobeyed
this injunction to date-- the money was too good and all knew
Sampson wouldn't hesitate to exact a supreme revenge on the
one who did use the merchandise.

But this Jack had such spunk. He watched as the unconscious
boy had been stripped, shaved and chastity-belted. And as the
weeks had passed, he kept track of the drugged boy's
transformation into girlhood-- the hormonal injections, the
growing breast buds on the thirteen year old, the lengthening
black hair, the softening milk white skin. And as the boy slowly
regained composure, the dawning horror as he realized what
was being done to him. The day he was told his new name, he
had wept so piteously that Sampson was even touched.

"I'm NOT Jill-- I'm Jack!" he had screamed over and over, till at
last he had been sedated. The following days the feminized
boy had been sullen and angry. The Treatments' effect on his
behavior were taking hold and were channeling his boyish anger
into a more appropriate feminine sulkiness. Whines were
understandable even in the best behaved girlies-- outright rage
were not.

"What is your name, girl?" Sampson had asked at last.
Sampson had forbidden any Guardian to speak to the boy--
most unusual. But he had already decided that he would train
this one personally.

In anguish, the naked teen raised his head. His pursed lips were
fuller, seductively poutier now with the collagen injections.
His blue eyes were big with frustration, powerlessness and fear
as they looked up at him.

"Jill-- I guess."

"You guess?" Sampson questioned sternly.

The feminized boy bowed his head. "I mean, I know. I know
my name is Jill from now on." His voice was melodic, sing-
song now. Sampson nodded with approval.

"Good. Now let us try it again. What is your name, GIRL?"

The teen didn't lose a second. He could interpret the annoyance
growing in Sampson's throat. "Jill. My name is Jill."

Sampson had smiled. "Better. Would Jill like something to
wear?"

The boy had nodded. He had been kept naked for weeks now.
He would very much like something to wear. Sampson
unzipped the small garment bag he had brought with him.

"What would Jill like to wear?" he asked, feigning interest.

At once Jill was jack again. "Some jockey shorts, a pair of
jeans and a t-shirt, please. And a pair of tube socks and
sneakers."

Sampson shook his head. "First of all, do girls wear jockey
shorts, Jill?"

The boy looked down, shell-shocked. "No."

"What do they wear instead?"

"Panties," he whispered softly.

Sampson nodded and pulled from the bag a pair of pink cotton
panties, handing them to Jill. "Put on your pretty new panties
Jill."

The boy took them, eyes downcast. Obediently he slipped them
on. The close-fitting bikini panties covered his midsection.

"And what else do girls wear underneath their clothes Jill?" he
pressed.

But Jill didn't answer now. Instead he sat across from him in his
pink panties, looking away, realizing at last that he would be
wearing panties from now on.

"Here's a clue, Jill." Sampson leaned forward and flicked the
nipple on Jill's small left breast. Jill closed his arms over his
chest at once. Good-- natural modesty. "Now, what else do
GIRLS wear underneath their clothes, Jill?"

he mumbled something and I told him to speak up. "Bras," he
answered. "That's right, Jill-- bras. And with your little breasts
growing you need a bra too. A special kind of bra. Can you
guess what kind of bra you need?"

His pale face was so downcast, so doleful. I could tell he
knew. He was thirteen and what thirteen year old Little
Leaguer hadn't snapped one that a young girl might wear? "A
training bra," he answered softly.

I nodded and handed him one. "Put it on Jill. Put on your
training bra, girl."

He fumbled with the strange new article of clothing. "Not to
worry, Jill. I've taught lots of girls your age how to put on their
first training brassiere. Put your arms through the shoulder
straps first. Good. Now hook the bra snap in the back. That's
o.k.-- you'll get better at it-- you'll be wearing a bra every day
from now on. Now, slip your pretty breasts into the soft cups.
Now since your breasts are so small now, you can adjust the
shoulder straps higher so that your training bra will lift them up.
Good girl, Jill! You've got it! Now stand up and model your
new underwear for me!"

Jill stood up uncertainly. He obviously didn't know what to do
with his hands and they danced nervously from his bra strap to
pulling out his panty to cover up his backside. "Let's keep those
hands still, Jill. Put them on your hips. No-- not like that-- with
palms up and thumbs pointing out at me. Good girl." He
looked so sweet-- a young teen in his first panties and training
bra. I twirled my fingers, insisting he spin for me in his new
undies. He did, keeping his hands on his hips, looking just like
a little ballerina.

"Now sit down, pretty girl. And tell me, Jill-- what do girls
wear over their training bras?"

"A shirt," he answered firmly.

I shook my head. He most certainly wouldn't be wearing a
shirt! "Boys were shirts. What do girls LIKE YOU wear Jill?"
He seemed confused, so I answered for him. "They wear
blouses. Here is one for you. You will put it on now."

Jill took the white cotton blouse and looked at it. It was a
darling short sleeved blouse with a lacy pink ribboned collar and
lacy trim on the sleeves. It buttoned in the back. As Jill slipped
it on and awkwardly tried to button it behind his back, I
consoled him. "Most girl's clothing buttons in the back, just like
your training bra. You'll get used to it." This seemed to draw a
spark of resentment in his big blue eyes, but he was careful to
keep his pretty mouth shut tight.

"Very cute. Now, let us continue. What do girls wear over
their frilly underwear?"

His face was flushed and his long black hair all tousled from his
pirouettes. I could tell he was mortified by his panty and bra
modeling, and now the fit of his snug white blouse. The tension
of the material was giving him a precious little bust! "Uh, a
dress?"

I smiled. "Sometimes. And sometimes they wear a kind of
dress that shows off their nice smooth legs. What kind of dress
would do that for you Jill?"

"A s-sk-skirt?" Tough to get the words out now, but you'll learn
Sampson had thought.

"Yes! That's right, Jill! And here's one for you-- you're first
skirt! Put it on!"

Jill took the pink denim garment doubtfully. It wasn't the jeans
he had asked for, that was written all over his face. He stepped
into the skirt zipper side on the front and pulled it up.

"What did I just say about girl's clothing, Jill? The zipper goes
in the back!"

Hurriedly, he turning the waist around and pulled it up. It got
tight around his hips. "I--uh--can't get it on. It's too small!" he
whined.

"No, it isn't. It is the perfect dress size for you-- a Junior Miss
size five. You're just not familiar with how much tighter girls'
clothing is. Just keep huffing and puffing-- you'll get it on!"

Jill gritted his teeth and managed at last to wriggle himself into
the pink denim miniskirt. Sampson had been impressed-- Jill
had properly tucked the blouse into the skirt, sucked in his
breath and zipped it up gallantly. The denim compressed the
pantied teen buns delightfully, giving the thirteen year old a
shapely little figure!

"And finally, what do girls wear on their pretty feet, Jill?"
 
"Shoes." He knew what was coming. Sampson could tell. He
had asked him what kind of shoes girls wore, like his own
mother wore to be pretty for his father. "High heels," the
thirteen year old had responded limply. He took the pair of
three inch pink pumps and slipped into them with quiet
submission. Sampson then told him to stand up. The feminized
boy did so with surprising grace.

If you got them early enough, it was a grace they kept,
Sampson knew. Instead of using that grace to catch flyballs,
Jill's grace would be harnessed for such activities as curtseying.
He imagined his Jillie in all her future prancing, and capering in
silly female play-- the things SHE would be trained to like and
find expression in. Jill would soon forget he had ever partaken
in anything as messy and unfeminine as baseball. No, HIS Jillie
wouldn't be running in sneakers, SHE would be skipping in her
dainty high heels. He wouldn't be rounding bases, SHE would
be gliding around a dancefloor in the arms of her "boyfriend."
He wouldn't be reading comic books, SHE would be invited
into the naughty mysteries of teen romance novels. He wouldn't
be playing with balls, bats and mits, SHE would be imagining
the life of a young woman with HER Barbie doll collection. He
wouldn't be collecting baseball cards, SHE would be collecting
lipsticks and nail polishes. He wouldn't be reading Sports
Illustrated, SHE would be devouring Sassy and Teen Beat. He
wouldn't be watching baseball games, SHE would be watching
nice "girl" shows like "Saved by The Bell" and "Blossom."
And when it was time, he wouldn't be scoring with some babe,
SHE would be surrendering all her girlish charms to the hunky
boyfriend of HER dreams, the one SHE worshipped and
adored.

 Sampson looked at his creation and was contented. This one,
he had decided, he would keep for himself. And Kimmie
reminded him of his Jillie, now waiting for his summons
somewhere in the Complex. Ah well, back to work.

He clapped his hands. "Ladies, your attention please!"
Instantly ten femininzed faces listened hard to his words, eyes
wide in fear and pouty lips trembling.

"As you know, while you've been at the Complex, you've been
changed-- transformed. Once, if you can remember that far
back, you were all boys." Sampson noted the wistful look on
some of his girlies' faces and grinned. "But now you're all girls,
pretty teenage girls. I'm extremely proud of you all. In your
own ways, you have become so very well-behaved, deferential
and obedient young ladies. Even you know your place, don't
you Linda, you little punker! All of you are now so interested
in being such exquisite, charming young missies. You've
become so aware of how important it is to make yourselves up,
to look your best in your frilly new feminine clothes. You have
learned how to make the Guardians smile at your girlish flirting
and you know how to tease and please with the sweetest of
glances and slightest purse of your lips! Just like real teenage
girls, you have discovered the power of your shapely, firm
bodies and your sweet smiles. Look at you all! You look so
lovely and bewitching in your alluring under things. So sweet,
so innocent--- and so sexy."

The feminized boys grew restless at this comment, but Sampson
continued. "As you know, the beauty and sensuality of the
teenage girl is a most sought-after and wonderful thing. Men
and women the world over and throughout history have sought
out pretty girls. And the same is true now. Who won't want a
pretty girl to have for your very own?

Now you know none of the Guardians have ever touched you.
That is because you were brought here to become girls. And
even though you have tempted them and put them to the test
with your ever-increasing femininity, none have touched you in
an intimate way. But now comes the time in every girl's life
when she discovers why she has been blessed with her girlish
beauty. And so now you shall be told the reason why you have
been transformed into such desirable teen babes."

The girlies looked at him as filled with curiosity as their
chemically altered minds and emotions could comprehend. He
continued.

"Outside there are a group of men who find girls like you-- girls
with little twigs between their legs in nice tight chastity belts--
very sexy. You should be flattered that they came so far to see
you! They came because they want to look at and perhaps buy
some of you and take you home with them, if you are very
lucky. Sort of like picking out kittens in a pet store! And when
they get you home, they will do to you what people like to do
to pretty teenage girls. They will touch you and teach you how
to make them happy."

Sampson could tell that all the girlies were terrified. They had
been shielded from the idea of sex for so long they had
forgotten that along with the beauty of their new softened bodies
came the obligation their alluring bodies promised to men. He
went on. "I can tell you are all afraid. It is right to be afraid,
little ladies. Be afraid-- be afraid that if you do not please your
masters, that you will be hurt. Believe me, you will be.
Depending on your luck, the man who buys you may be kind or
cruel. Whichever they are, you must try as hard as you can to
bring a smile to their lips with your sexy little girl ways. Do
you understand?"

The girlies remained deathly still and silent. They had not
expected this. Perhaps they thought they would always remain
in their pretty pink teen girl world of the Complex. But soon it
would be time for these girlies to know what it was to be used
as a sexy young slut. Sampson turned and called his guests into
the Amphitheater.

Hercules led the group of men into the room to him.
"Gentlemen, I think you'll enjoy the latest bevy of beauties
we've prepared for you. They're all between the ages of fifteen
and eighteen, all perfectly ripe specimens of teenage femininity.
They come in all hair colors, all breast sizes, and all kinds of
temperaments-- from prudish young ladies to playful little
kittens for you to break to your will. They're all virgins--
naturally-- and," he leered, "they all have the naughty little thing
that make them so restless and special in your beds-- that little
twig that we've put under lock and key for you. Please, take
your drinks and inspect them all you like! Just remember, the
bidding will begin in one hour."

Bidding? Kim and some of the others began to struggle as the
strange men converged on them. They seemed to be of all
races, all cultures. Almost immediately, an older Arab dressed
in the traditional garb of a sheik approached Kim. He had a
natural scowl on his hard leathery face till his stony eyes rested
on Kim. Then the hard mouth opened to reveal a grinning set of
white crooked feral teeth. The sheik's hand cupped Kim's
breasts tightly through the thin cotton bra.

"Small fruit, but is it sweet my dove or not yet ripe?" the sheik
asked softly.

Kim twisted impotently on the hook. "Don't!" he pleaded
softly. He still hadn't recovered from the shock of learning that
he would soon be sold off to one of these hard looking men.
Why? Hadn't he behaved? Hadn't he become the girl Sampson
said he wanted? Why couldn't he stay here? he screamed inside
his head. he would try harder to be prettier! He would try
harder to be more girlish! Then Sampson would let him stay,
wouldn't he?

The sheik smiled wisely. "My little dove, should I purchase
you, you would coo your love for me in my ear should I caress
you so. You would dream of taking my lance between these
small treasures and in your soft mouth. Would you not dream
of pleasing your lord and master so, pretty maid?"

Kim twisted again. "Please leave me alone!" he tried again.
But the words seemed catty and weak. They were meant to
offend the sheik.

But the sheik just shook his head. "You are a willful infidel
bitch. After I purchase you, I shall attend to your training
personally. After these," he squeezed Kim's nipples viselike
between his finger and thumb," are pierced for Obedience
Rings, perhaps my dove will learn humility! You should be
honored to be one of the Sheik of Abadan's Passion Slaves--
not beg to escape him!" The Arab narrowed his eyes in greed.
"Oh yes, I shall purchase you, little one. You will be a pretty
pet to train. Will you dance in your chains to tempt your new
master?" His crooked white teeth were bared in anticipated
pleasure.

Kim began to cry. He would not dance for this ugly old man!
"No! Please, I'm not a girl! I'm a boy! An American boy!"

The Arab dropped his hand to Kim's black thong panty, cupping
the backside it tightly sheathed. "As if American boys cannot
be turned into American girls and these girls sold as playthings
to wealthy masters! I have bought five such as you from Israel,
Lebanon, China, Ethiopia and Greece, little dove, all to serve in
the Royal Stable! You shall learn to frolic with them as well!
Your master enjoys watching his pets play with one another!
Soon you shall join them, your new sisters. They will help me
train you. You will learn the taste of each of your slave sisters
in the Stable." He patted Kim's rump. "And like each of them,
you will be branded with the mark of the Wench Boy That
Delights."

Kim shrieked, but the response from Sampson and his other
guests was merely laughter. "A spirited filly for you to break,
My Lord?" Sampson asked cheerily.

The Sheik nodded grimly. "You choose your words well. The
little Golden haired one is in need of a strong man's hand to
teach her respect and training her in the ways of mounting!
But," his flinty eyes glinted, "she has much to commend her."
The sheik stroked Kim's backside longingly, slipping his horny
hand underneath the tight black panty and tugging on the
chastity pouch. "She would bring much joy after being tamed.
I think I shall buy her. I should enjoy training a Western wench
like this," he promised. With that, the sheik departed.

Kim was white with terror. The other men had seen the
exchange and had assumed the sheik would indeed purchase
Kim. Not one of them approached to inspect Kim. The teen
sobbed. The sheik would buy him and do those things to him.
All he could do was cry. Sampson looked over once and
smiled.

The time for the auction was approaching. The men chatted
with one another quietly, pointing at the teens they would bid
on. Kim hung limply, waiting for the inevitable. The auction
was to begin even as a man hurriedly joined the other guests.
He approached Sampson.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I just got back from a business trip," he
explained. Kim thought the voice sounded familiar. As the
man turned toward him, he could see the clear and unmistakable
face of Kurt-- his stepfather. Kurt looked at him without
surprise as he continued to speak to Samson. "May I speak to
her?"

Sampson nodded. Of course, he should have the opportunity to
inspect the merchandise before the bidding. Joe Bob walked
toward Kim, smirking.

"Never thought you'd see me again, did you? I saw the catalog
with your face in it and had to be here to put a bid in. Damn
nice changes on you, I'll say that. Heard you got you're name
changed to Kimmie, that true you little faggot?" he sneered.
"Course you're no faggot, you're a hot lil girlie now aren't you,
baby? A hot lil piece of ass like yo' momma!" Joe Bob's face
bore a furious scowl which slowly was transformed into a
wolfish leer. " Damn I like these pint-sized titties," he said as
he clutched Kim's breasts. "Stick 'em out for me, girlie. Show
me your hooters!" And with that, the Texan oilman ripped up
the soft black cotton bra, pulling it up over the tops of the small
succulent teen mounds.

Reluctantly Kim closed his eyes and thrust his chest out. In the
dark, he could hear the rough breathing of his stepfather as his
callused hands pulled on his sensitive breast buds, fingered the
nipples and turning them into red hard tips. "Gettin hot for yo'
Daddy, ain't you bitch? Open your eyes and answer me
Kimberlee!"

The use of his full name shocked him into an answer that would
please the older man. He obeyed, looking Joe Bob full in the
eyes. "Yes, Sir!"

Joe Bob smiled. "Course you are. Bet you want to come home
and take your momma's place in my bed, doncha you lil whore?
Like me to take your titties in my hands and wrap 'em round my
big Texas dick!"

Kim watched him in utter silence considering. Joe Bob had
been cruel to him but he would probably be better that the Arab.
Kim made a decision and smiled. It was time to start acting
like what he was-- a teenage sex kitten. it was what all his
training and the Treatments had been about. Kim could make it
easier or he could make it harder on himself, but the result
wasn't going to change. In a way, he was so lucky Joe Bob was
interested in buying Kim. maybe it was time for him to show
Joe Bob just what a good little girl Kimmie could be for HER
stepdaddy.

"I'm glad you like them," Kim purred, continuing to stick HER
chest out. "I can't wait for you to hold them and to be in your
bed."

Joe Bob ran his hands down to Kim's ass. "I never did fuck
you, did I?"

"Not that!," Kim purred as SHE licked HER lips. "Oh, no, but
I fantasized about it!" Kim cooed. SHE wriggled HER hips as
Joe Bob felt them. "I'm still a virgin. They keep us that way
till we get bought. Then Sampson says we have to do whatever
our owners say. What would you make me do?"

Joe Bob snickered. "All the things your whore of a momma did
and more. Too bad she didn't understand you were going to be
my slut just like she was. I tole her I wanted her to train you to
be a girlie for me. But the stupid cunt was stubborn and I had
to snuff her out." Joe Bob's face blazed in furious remembrance
of that rebellion.

A cold core of chill bored through Kim. But it didn't change
anything did it? And maybe if HER mother had obeyed, Kim
would have been taught to please Joe Bob and... Ooooh! HER
stepfather was playing with HER nipples again! It felt so good!
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, being Joe Bob's girl. At least SHE
would be taken care of. At least SHE would be the only one.

"Gentlemen! The auction will now begin!" Sampson's powerful
voice promised. "Take your seats!"

Joe Bob let HER nipple go with a snap and took his seat. Kim
caught the eye of the Arab and winced. The ugly brown man
nodded as if assuring HER that he would soon indeed be HER
master.

Sampson was caught the exchange between Kimmie and the
Texan, as well as taken note of the Arab's angry stare. He
hadn't planned on putting up the blonde with the tiny tits, but if
there was so much interest, the bidding was bound to be high.
That would put the auction off to a very prosperous
commencement! He walked over to Kimmie.

"Gentlemen, shall we begin with Kimberlee? She is a gorgeous
sixteen year old, all-American girl who just loves to play dress-
up. Imagine this girl-next-door waiting for your return in
nothing but her sexy black Calvin Kleins. Oh nothing will come
between Kimmie and her Calvin Kleins-- until you snap your
fingers!"

Sampson slapped Kimmie's ass hard and SHE jiggled in HER
bounds. Keep your eyes on the floor, SHE told HERSELF. Be
a good girl!

"Then," Sampson went on, "she'll strip out of them faster that
you can say 'blow me'-- which you'll say quite often with Miss
Hoover around the house!" Kimmie blushed and the men
chuckled at this.

Samson swung Kimmie around, so HER back was to the
audience. Sampson yanked HER panty waist up effortlessly.
"See this ass? Nice tight American teenybopper ass, gentlemen!
You'll get plenty of use out of this piece!" Sampson slapped
HER butt again unnecessarily. "Let's go! Shall we start the
bidding at say, thirty thousand?"

The Arab raised his hand.

"Ah-- thank you Sheik! And thirty-five, have we thirty-five for
this virgin blonde? Ah-- the gentleman from Texas! Thank
you!"

Kim listened to the bidding on HER with a nauseous feeling of
unreality. Boys changed into girls and bought for money! It
was too strange to think HER fate was to be a girl, to serve on e
of these two cruel men! Desperately SHE hoped the Arab
would stop bidding. Maybe HER breasts would be too small to
interest him.

"Sixty thousand! Thank you very much Sheik!" Sampson was
saying. Kimmie flushed. Joe Bob was quiet and he should be
bidding! please Joe Bob, SHE begged. SHE would be a good
girl, a very good girl! Just please bid!

But Joe Bob wasn't looking at Kimberlee any more. His eyes
were on the shy brown haired bitch, Mandy. Now those were a
ripe pair of titties! Sampson had said she'd make a great
secretary too. Joe Bob smiled. Mandy, the Boy Scout, in a
tight mini bent over his desk taking it up the ass doggy style
from Boss Joe Bob! Shy Mandy taking "dick-tation"! She
looked so arousing up there in her pink panties! Why did he
need Kimberlee when the Mandy cutie had such nice titties and
a good attitude? Tim had run away- fine, let him learn what it
was like to suck Arab dick for the rest of his life as a harem
girl. He'd regret he had ever given up the chance to be Joe
Bob's private whore. That would teach him! Screw it-- let the
towel-head have her! Joe Bob would buy the brown haired
missy instead.

"Sold to the Sheik for sixty thousand!" proclaimed Sampson
triumphantly. Ten thousand more than he had figured for the
flat-chested blonde! And things were off to a bang!

An hour later when the owners came to collect their new
possessions, Sampson toted the final bids and was pleasantly
surprised. He had exceeded his expectations by well over 30%.
Pam had brought $125,000 from a conservative member of the
House of Lords who found her "English" looks and "respectful"
attitude quite appropriate for a pleasure maid in his summer
house on the Dover coast. Joanie's cheerleader looks had
attracted the interest of a professional football coach, who had
paid $140,000-- quite a coup, but the coach was a new client
and had nervously overbid. Donna would be going to her new
home, the Exxxcstasy Club, to begin her new career as a lap
dancer. The club owner thought she had potential. "She might
make stage dancer if she works very hard," he had said after
closing the bidding at $95,000. Natasha, his exotic Russian
beauty, had caused quite a sensation. Her winsome presentation
and seductive accent had brought on a bidding frenzy till a
prominent Southern U.S. senator had bought her for $200,000!
Sampson made a note to touch base with his Russian contacts--
he would need more of these Russian boys to transform! The
Catholic bishop would had bought Mary for $150,000 seemed
unable to keep his hands off her already. Look how he was
caressing her breasts even as the boy-girl cried in shame.
Sampson was pleased-- he sensed unique opportunities from
other Catholic prelates and anticipated the word would spread
should the bishop be pleased with his purchase. Make a note--
procure more altar and choir boys! Annie had been a
disappointment, fetching only $60,000. The madam he thought
might buy her hadn't shown up and instead she had gone in a
solitary low bid to a Mexican whoremaster even Sampson didn't
like taking money from. The Mexican wanted Annie because
real "gringo" girls were just too expensive. "My customers,
they no ca