"A Goth's Story" (MFdom, tg/v, nc, sm) [3/8]


Chapter 3 The Dressing
=================

Through the doors was a large closet room with hundreds of garments in. However,
to my surprise, the first one I was helped into was a flesh-coloured item that
looked a little like a jockstrap. As Sepulchre pulled it up my legs, Aisling
reached in front of me. Seconds later, I was on my knees in agony. My balls and
penis had been tucked very firmly into a latex pocket, which was now tightly
folded between my legs. As the pain subsided, I looked down and all I could see
was a featureless smooth bump, with no visible sign of my manhood.

Although I had recognised what was happening to me, it had not really penetrated
until now. I thought of all that had been snatched away from me, my life, my
freedom, my masculine appearance and now, forcefully, my manhood. Strength left
me, I curled into a ball on the floor, sobbing in despair. I felt strong hands
gripping me, I resisted, but they were too powerful. Aisling and Hawk dragged me
to my feet. Sepulchre stood in front of me, dark eyes flashing angrily.
"Stop that immediately, child." She slapped my face; my cheek stung painfully.
"I could cope with it and so can you. Grow up! You'll smear your makeup and make
us late if you're not careful." Chastened, I stopped crying. The Hairdresser
wandered in front of me and inspected me. She adjusted something around my eyes
with a small brush. 
"Not too bad, dear. You're lucky. Now, no more nonsense or Hawk and Aisling will
get to play." I realised that this ‘play' would very probably be painful. 
Cowardice has, unfortunately, always been part of my personality. I backed down,
at the same time resolving to try to escape at the first opportunity.

"Good." The Hairdresser said. "OK, let's put an outfit together for you." She
wandered amongst the racks, Sepulchre close behind her. "Yes, this, yes, this,
no, no, those ones."
Returning, Sepulchre laden with a large pile of black cloth. 
"Now dear, we have a nice corset for you, which I'm sure Hawk will lace up."
She held out a black satin corset, a full one. I trembled slightly. I had the
suspicion that this was going to hurt. Hawk placed the corset around my waist,
and started to do it up.
"Hang on a mo'" The Hairdresser said, "that's a touch low". She worked it up
a bit. "That's better." Hawk started to tighten the strings. I was made to hold
on to a bar, leaning slightly forward, as the corset was laced around me. 
Tighter and tighter the corset went; looking down, my waist was narrowing. Hawk
put his knee to my back and yanked the last inches together, driving breath from
me. I was helped back upright.  Carefully, gingerly, I started to breathe. I
found I could do so, although only with very small breaths. If I was to do any
running on my escape, I would have to dispose of the corset first. I looked
down, as best I was able. My waist seemed inconceivably thin. The Hairdresser
got a tape measure out.
"Twenty-four inches, Hawk, well done." Twenty-four inches? My waist was usually
thirty! No wonder it felt tight. "OK Aisling, you can put it on now." I heard a
click from the small of my back.
"Done." Aisling said.
"Good. OK dear, we've put that on you and we don't want you taking it off, just
because you don't like it, so it's been padlocked on. Sorry and all that." The
Hairdresser said, with fake sincerity. I was locked into this constricting
prison. "We'll obviously have to change it as you become accustomed to it."
"And as she loses weight." Aisling commented. "She's going on quite a diet."
"And she needs it." Agreed the Hairdresser. Insulted, I looked away. "Except
in certain areas. Those are not impressive."  She was staring at my chest. I
have never had much flesh there, and it was obvious that the intent was for the
corset to push what there was into two breast-like mounds. Looking down, 
however, it was apparent that this had not been successful. There was a hint of
shape there, but only a hint. Perversely, I felt a little disappointed. If I was
going to be a girl, I wanted to be an attractive one.

"Well, we can't do anything about that now. Brian will decide what, if anything,
is required. Let's get the other things on her." The Hairdresser decided. She
handed me a pair of panties, black and lacy, and gestured for me to put them on.
I attempted to obey, however, I could only bend over enough to reach my knees.
Attempting to pick my feet up, I fell over. I was helped to my feet quickly and
Sepulchre, grinning, helped me into the panties, which fitted across the cache-
sex exactly. A garter belt soon followed, Sepulchre assisting once again, and
then the Hairdresser held out a two black, thin items. Sepulchre pointed to the
cuffs I still wore.
"I can't get them on past these." She said.
"Oh yes, Aisling, remove them, they're hardly necessary at the moment." To my
relief the wrist and ankle cuffs which had bound me through my ordeal were
removed. 
Sepulchre then bent to helping me again and in seconds I was wearing a pair of
fishnet stockings, neatly clipped to my garter belt. I stood there, corseted and
dressed in panties, stockings and suspenders and with no trace of my masculinity
showing. My face felt stiff with the makeup that had been put on it and my ears
still ached where they had been multiply pierced. My dyed black hair, tied into
a long ponytail, brushed against my back and all the way down to my buttocks.
For the first time, as well as emasculate, I felt feminine.

Sepulchre helped me into the next garment, a black velvet dress with a high-
necked collar. The front of the dress was open to reveal the top of what little
bust I had and nipped tightly at the waist before flaring into voluminous black
skirts. The sleeves were long and tight.
"Walk up and down." The Hairdresser commanded me. I obeyed, feeling the skirt
sway as I walked. The corset forced me to walk fairly carefully and more upright
than I would normally. The Hairdresser appraised me scrupulously.
"Sepulchre, the 5 inches, I think." Sepulchre came up with a pair of boots in
her hands.
"Now, normally, I wouldn't want to make you taller, but you aren't so big and
you could probably get away with these. Asides, I want to watch you walk in
them." The Hairdresser commented. With Sepulchre's help I got into the PVC
boots. I almost fell over again, but, swaying alarmingly, I stayed upright.
Gingerly, I took a first step. Ever so unsteadily, I walked forwards and 
backwards, humiliated by the daintiness that was forced upon me and by the way
the boots made me sway my hips from side to side. 
"Hmm," said The Hairdresser, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile, "just the
final touches and then we'll be done." She went over to a chest of drawers and
pulled some items out.
"Now, we can't really give you any earrings until your ears have healed a touch,
but we'll make up for it." She stretched my hand out, palm down, fingers 
extended. Carefully, she pushed a ring on to each of my fingers, she then picked
the other hand and placed a ring on each of those. I examined them, they were
ornate silver filigree work, with vaguely occult and very gothic designs on. The
effect on me was to make my hands look very feminine indeed, with the long black
nails and the silver rings. 

She then held my right arm straight and forced a spiral of silver up over past
my elbow. Around my right wrist she placed a large number of silver bangles,
which chimed as I moved my hand.
Around my left wrist she placed a heavy silver bangle, with intricate designs
carved on it. With the compression on my biceps from the slave bracelet, the
weight of the bangle around my left wrist and the sound of those around my
right, more than the skirts or the corset, I was forcibly reminded of my 
feminised state.

The Hairdresser undid my hair from the ponytail and brushed it out. 
"OK," she said. "We won't do anything too fancy with your hair, just back-comb
it a little bit. There we go, that's lovely. Now, shall we show her the end
result?"
"Might as well," Aisling said, "She needs to know what state she's in." 
Sepulchre brought up a mirror from a cupboard in one wall. In true ‘makeover'
style, they kept it facing away from me. She leaned over as she pushed it in
front of me and whispered in my ear. 
"Don't worry, you look gorgeous." She murmured. I wasn't sure whether to be
pleased or annoyed. My male pride would have been hurt, but not much of my male
pride remained.
"Oooh!" Interjected the Hairdresser. "Nearly forget." She bustled up to me
with something in her hands. "Brian would have been most annoyed. Sorry dear,
this is another lock-on effort." She said as she fastened a collar around my
neck. There was an audible click as the lock closed. "OK, turn around the 
mirror." The full-length mirror was turned around.

Even though I knew what had been put on me, I was shocked by what I saw in the
mirror. There, instead of the image I knew as ‘me' was a drop-dead beautiful
Goth girl. With silky pitch-black hair and a narrow waist she was an image from
deep within my fantasies. It took some moments before I realised that this girl
was me. My face had been beautifully made up, white powdered with black lipstick
and black eye liner and mascara. At the corners of my eyes, which looked larger
than I could have believed, a tight black spiral had been painted. My ears had a
neat row of silver studs in each of them and around my neck was a wide silver
collar, similar to that worn by Sepulchre. I looked further down my body, past
the distressingly flat chest to the painfully nipped waist. I noticed that my
hair now dropped past my bum to the tops of my thighs. I raised my hands, 
marvelling at how feminine they looked.
"I think she's impressed." Aisling commented, laughing.
"And so she should be." Bristled the Hairdresser. "That's a lot of work in
there that is." I was impressed, and I was responding to my own appearance,
which, as I was fairly firmly tethered down below, caused some discomfort.
"Right," Aisling said. "She's ready, and I suspect The Patrician is waiting.
Sepulchre, go and check." Sepulchre scurried from the room. Aisling stood in
front of me.
"Listen. If you misbehave now, Hawk and I will take it out of your ass. That's
on top of what the Patrician will do to you. Keep your eyes down, speak as
softly an as femininely as you can and do what you are told."

Sepulchre re-entered the room. "He is ready for her now." I was led through a
door into a long corridor, tottering slightly on my unaccustomed heels. Inside,
I was a knot of nerves, I had been kidnapped, transformed and prepared for this
man, this man that I was about to see for only the second time in my life, and
the first in my new state. Keeping firm to my resolve to escape, I was led down
the corridor to face The Patrician.