Being in the service of Morgan Sharpe is demanding and it can come with some drastic changes as well. Reagan Jones isn’t so sure he comfortable with what he has become. It’s up to
his new mistress to convince him, to show him that she’s just revealing his true nature and that life may just be better this way.
This six thousand word work is the second ribald chapter of the series To Attend Upon a Witch by Randall Rogue.
Author: Randall Rogue
Length: 6000 words.
Series: To Attend Upon a Witch
Preceded by: Entering Her Service
Succeeded by: Not the Man He Used to Be
Content: Femdom, Transformation, Feminization, Dickgirl, Anal-Sex, Crossdressing, body-modification
“Stand up.” She told him and he complied.
Leading him to the center of the room, she took a step back and considered him. “Those heels really accentuate your legs and ass. Don’t you agree?”
“I don’t get much of a view.”
“Oh of course. Here you go.”
She reached out and snapped her fingers. There was a wavering in the air next to her, and a long floor mirror appeared beside her. At first the image shown in it was merely his reflection, but as he watched it the image moved changing angle. It circled around him until the ‘reflection’ showed his body from the back. Although his body was quite short of stature, his legs were long, smooth, and-he felt ashamed to admit-shapely. The hips were widely set, feminine, and the butt within that skirt was a good one.
He watched as Sharpe reached out a hand and clapped him firmly on one ass check, squeezing it. A small gasp escaped his throat. He stifled it quickly, but his mistress’ lips curled at the sound. “Your ass is pretty sensitive, isn’t it?”
“I guess.” He tried to sound non-committal.
“Have you ever played with it?” She asked.
He caught himself before he lied to her. “I’d prefer not to say.”
“Yes, I thought so.” She cooed into his ear. In the image of the mirror, he could see her standing behind him and could almost feel her body against his back. He watched as her hands rose and reached around him, felt them slid along the material of his vest. “What about your nipples?”
His face took on a cast of confusion. “I’m a man; our nipples are pretty much vestigial.”
Sharpe sighed. “Yes, that’s true for most of you, but you see, Reagan, I think there’s somebody else hiding inside you.” She drew him close to her, pressing her warm body against his. Her fingers kneaded slightly over his chest, massaging him. “Don’t you want to know who that person is?”
“I…” He started to respond.
“Shhh, dear,” she whispered in his ear, ”that was rhetorical.”