Laura had returned to the servant quarters after confessing to Mistress that she had allowed herself to be bred by Dr. Smallwood, the Jackson family's best friend and a founding member of Africa Rising. Mistress had reacted in a strangely calm manner, but intimated to her that there would be severe repercussions for her infidelity to her master. Before Mistress had dismissed her, Laura lay back on the big sofa in the Jackson's study and allowed herself to marked with a "sharpie" pen. Mistress would certainly have her permanently tattooed like her fellow indentured servant Callie, who now bore the phrase "BBC Slut" on her thigh and "Black Cock Only" right above her Mons. Laura dreaded the very idea of displaying anything like that on her body, but somehow when she was in Mistress's presence, she felt completely powerless to resist anything demanded of her.
She shuddered to think what else Mistress might do to her beyond marking her for life. Already, she carried her first black baby inside her womb. How many more might there be? What else would Mistress command her to do? For many nights over the past several weeks, she had seen the other servants forced to fuck random black men, seemingly recruited right off the streets, sometimes drunk, often stinking and dirty while Mistress stood nearby and watched. Callie had assured her it wasn't as bad as it looked. In fact, Callie had told her, sometimes she had incredible multiple orgasms and that there was something very animal and liberating about mindless sex with a black man, but nonetheless Laura cringed.
Right now, in the comfort of the tub and its warm waters, she was longing for the silky black skin, thick cock and hot body of her Baby Daddy, Dr. Hank Smallwood. Her mouth watered when she thought of him rhythmically rocking back and forth between her open thighs, and she reflexively ran her hand over the baby bump deep down her belly, massaging the area where his spawn was developing inside her.
As she emerged from the bathtub after a quick bath, she quickly dried herself off with one of the rough towels provided the servants, and considered how she might get word to Hank without Mistress finding out. She was also concerned about how she was going to handle the situation with her husband but that would have to wait for a time when she could be sit with him and break the news to him gently. She knew he had become very feminine as a result of the medications and therapy he was receiving from Mistress and she didn't want to see him break down into a sobbing little mess should he find out from some other source. Inside, she felt love for him, but she felt that the distance that had come between them plus the physical changes she could plainly see whenever their paths crossed, made it impossible to ever go back to the life they had know.
Besides, she reflected as she folded the towel and look down at her belly, she had to admit that the words written there by Mistress's mincing little lackey Chrissie certainly applied to her now and there was no way to turn back the hands of time, She looked at herself in the full length mirror and saw the words "Born White, Bred Black" neatly penned onto her belly. No, she decided, there was no way to change that, and even if she could, she was completely enraptured by, with Dr. Smallwood, the man who had made that phrase a reality. She turned to look at herself in profile and could just barely see his baby protruding from her tummy.
She hurriedly slid into a simple black shift and white apron to serve the family and their guests dinner. She dismissed all thoughts of both Hank and her husband from her mind as she slipped a pair of nondescript black flats onto her feet. and moved toward the cabin's wood door.
--
As Laura contemplated her fate, her husband Mark, or 'Stevie' as he now preferred to be called, was on his way to the yoga classes in Baltimore prescribed for him by their Mistress in her role as his therapist. He had taken his hormones and estrogen laced herbal tea an hour before and was feeling a tingling in his small but pronounced breasts. An hour before, he had also douched his little anal "boy pussy" thoroughly with Massengill, as demanded by Stan, the yoga master whom he was speeding to meet before their twice weekly class.
His mind drifted to Stan's instructions for him and the fact that he had sucked Stan to completion at the end of the last class. Stan had told him to come prepared to be fucked next time and idly Stevie wondered what it would feel like as he changed lanes to merge onto the expressway. Today he would lose his virginity to another man, and give himself completely to satisfy the strong black yoga instructor in the only way he could right now, but at the session only two hours ago with Mistress, she had brought up the topic again of sexual reassignment to him.
Again he had rejected the idea, pleading with her through tear drenched eyes not to force him to undergo sex change surgery. However, whenever he happened to notice his body or glimpsed his face in the rear view mirror, he had to admit that what he saw looking back at him was a young woman with whom he increasingly identified.
In the coming weeks, he would find the urge to have his body altered to reflect what he was feeling inside increasingly difficult. As he looked at the eyes staring back at him in he rear view mirror outlined in a pale blue eye shadow, he felt incredibly conflicted. The signals his face and other parts of his now feminized body were telling him one thing, but a part of him still resisted their message.
Only hours ago, he had tried on a mid length green dress, panty hose and 3 inch sling back pumps and admired himself in the mirror in the quarters he shared with Chrissie, then shaking his head violently and silently mouthing, "No, no, no!" to himself quickly ripped off the ensemble. He had sat down on the spartan bed in the quarters and buried his head in his hands thinking, "What would Laura say?" He changed into a unisex outfit, he nonetheless permitted himself to wear the bra and panties which were now common for him and which made him feel "right" somehow.
Unknown to him, Tanya watched him idly on screen in her bedroom, fed by the hidden cameras i the quarter. She massaged her prominent clit for several minutes as she watched his personal torment. As she watched his head sink into his hands, his obvious despair and resignation made her climax violently, bucking her hips upward on her duvet covered bed. As the throbbing subsided, she smiled to herself. He was almost broken and bent to her will. His body would continue to create strong signals that would force him to a decision point. It was only a matter of time now; time and the effects of his heavy daily doses of equine estrogen would make the decision for him.
What he was about to do today would be yet another reinforcement of the signals, delivered in the most intimate way possible. He thought for a moment of his dear wife Laura, and hoped he could find a way to explain all the confusing things swirling through his mind. Perhaps, he thought, Mistress Tanya might be enlisted to help him. He knew that Laura was being fucked by their master, Ray Jackson but Laura had told him not to worry about it and that she was on contraceptives. Somehow the thought comforted him, as he still harbored a vague wish that they might be able to have children, although increasingly he had to admit that was highly improbable.
