The Entrapped

This ‘Miss Sanchez’ proves to have a sardonic smile. Her look seems to evidence that she knows of me... and finds my transformation to be amusing. Judging from her mode of dress and demeanor there is disdain for maleness. For the first time in many weeks standing before a woman in makeup, skirt and heels brings dejection, a sense of loss. The woman is imposing... strong... virile... a mien once expected of me. I mentally cower.

“You’ve transformed well... nicely acclimatized.”

“Thank you, Miss Ramona.”

“I receive reports. Monitor your progress. It appears you’re worth every penny of my investment.”

“Thank you,” my words offered as Miss Ramona extends her hand and Miss Maria steps forth to offer a folder.

“Quite a talent... oral talent. I am always amazed at the propensity of the castrated male to offer fellatio... and with such care and skill.”

Miss Ramona offers the folder to me without looking at it.

“Your recent excursion through Central Park. Quite telling.”

The index finger of her right hand twirls, suggesting that I open the folder and examine. I am stunned when I do!

Photographs, high quality, amazing clarity, there is an image of me standing holding the front of my short skirt, the back fluttering in the breeze to expose my buttocks. Yes, that Saturday in the Park.

“An interesting montage, don’t you think, Renee? I believe you’ll find interest in them all.”

I flip. Whoever has manned the camera is quite talented, snapshot after snapshot of me playing the role of alluring ingénue, capturing my coy look as my admirers gawk. My apprehension grows in knowing of the culminating encounter, the man whose gaze would not be diverted. And sure enough, there comes the photo of him leading me by my hand into what I believed to be secluded bushes.

“Yes, your transformation is quite successful... and complete. Such a naughty girl you are, Renee,” Miss Ramona clucking her tongue as Miss Maria snickers in delight.

“Do you even know the man’s name?”

I shake my head.

“So you offered oral gratification to a complete stranger?”

I nod.

“It... it made me feel better after a bad experience,” alluding to the seedy Greenwich Village bar, my tone apologetic, my voice even meeker than usual.

“Interesting.”

The last photo is a tribute to the photographer’s skill... somehow managing to zoom in and obtain a close up of the side of my face in the stranger’s lap. With my head on an up thrust there glistens the wet pink of his penis shaft, the tip firmly engulfed in my mouth.

“And that’s it? Just to feel better?”

I nod.

With that Miss Maria offers another folder. Within is my biggest fear. With the oral gratification completed, there is a snapshot of the man stuffing a twenty dollar bill under the waist line of my brief skirt.

For some reason taking the money made me feel wanted... oddly needed... worth something. Made me feel more alluring and enticing in that someone not only looked but also chose to be with me... wanted to be with me.

Yes, all male esteem obliterated indeed... and replaced by? By what?

“Your employer would be quite enthralled to see these photos, young lady. I suspect your gender confusion is wearing on them and is endured only by the threat of your country’s discrimination law. But thi

s! Such felonious acts are not to be tolerated by an employer.”

I silently nod in agreement. My employment is doomed... and I am unhireable elsewhere unless I legally change my name.

“So once again it seems as your benefactress I must come to your rescue. Take off your blouse and skirt, Renee. I want more pictures. In heels and pink panties. And be cheery. If you cooperate no one will see these. In the end I’ll let you have them... to be destroyed... perhaps to be cherished mementoes. Cooperate and such are yours.”

I disrobe. Pink panties... heels.