He could feel his masculinity dissolving, fading intothe darkest corners of his subconscious. Hispersonality was shifting, melting into somethingelse, the way it had the last time he'd looked in thecheval. He'd fainted over a bed and woken up female -in mind as well as body. The image in the mirror hadaltered his consciousness, his self-perception. If hegazed into it again, he might lose himself for good.He might become a girl in every sense of the word.Yet how could he resist this urge, this...compulsion? He could already hear the voice of hisOtherself whispering at the back of his head. Callingto him, luring him forward. Preparing to takecontrol. Her influence was overwhelming. Muchstronger than he would have thought possible. Howcould she be so powerful? She was only a girl, asixteen year old child. She should have been his pet,his plaything. His slave. He was a male, she wasfemale; capitulation was out of the question. He hadto retain command of this body at all costs. Butstanding. When the door opened Mr Smith was standing there in his robe. He smiled and said come on in. Before I could react he put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me in. Walking to the kitchen he said, you want something to eat. Mumbling I said OK. He made me some food and brought it to the table. Nervous, I was about to eat. Mr Smith put his hands on my shoulders and rubbed. I didn't know what to do. He reached down and slid his hand under my shirt. He rubbed my chest, then leaned down and rubbed my stomach. Whispering he said, why don't we take this off. I started feeling funny as he unbuttoned my shirt. Pulling it off he said, let's sit by the television. I don't know why, but I followed him. He sat in the chair and pulled me in front of him. Looking up he asked, did you have fun yesterday. Nodding my head I squeaked out yes. Putting his hands on my chest he said, that's good. He rubbed my chest then moving down he slid his hands to my sides. Reaching my waist he said, are you nervous..
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