Changing Status

(This story is set in a world where legalized, non-hereditary slavery is commonplace for serious crime, unredeemed debt, or voluntary self-indenture.

All characters who are enslaved or have any intimate/sexual contact with slaves are 18 years of age or older

. This is fiction; no one should ever be deprived of free will nor used sexually without his or her uncoerced permission.)

Up until a few hours ago, I had been Wally Haniford, former slave wrangler and computer installation contractor. Three months earlier, I had unintentionally seen Hugo Hernandez, youngest son of drug lord Matias Hernandez, murder another drug smuggler in an otherwise deserted office building. That had put me into the federal Witness Security Program, but after Hugo's trial ended with a hung jury, someone had leaked information that blew my hiding place. Three deputy U.S. marshals had died trying to protect me. The last to die had pulled a Hail Mary play, giving me both a gender-conversion pill and a point of contact that would help me self-indenture myself. The idea was that no one would expect a male computer geek to hide as a female slave.

If this wasn't freaky enough, the Marshals' Service emergency contact to help me self-indenture was the best (platonic) friend of my youth, the beautiful and brilliant Eleanor Jane Hastings. Eight years before, I had been horrified when called upon to process E.J., as I always called her, into slavery for medical debt (her mom died anyhow). This experience had caused me to quit my job at the Longhorn Slave Market and develop another career. E.J. was free now and based on her clothes and apartment seemed to be doing quite well. Fortunately, the gender pill had changed my hair, body, and even voice so much that she would not immediately recognize her buddy Wally. For her safety as much as mine, I had to ensure she never realized who I was, so that the Hernandez cartel did not connect the missing witness with the secret love of my life.

Ellie [I was determined not to refer to her as E.J.] welcomed me into her home; as soon as she had locked her door, she gave me a gentle hug "because you look like you need one."

"Yes, Ma'am," I agreed.

"No need to be formal," she replied, giggling. "Look, unless your pursuers catch up with you, you can plan on spending two nights here regardless of what happened afterwards. Do you like pizza?"

She produced a large pepperoni pie, which again brought back fond memories of time spent with her in the past. I soon realized that my new, smaller, female body could no longer consume large amounts of food, so I stopped after two slices and some diet coke.

Silence hung in the apartment for perhaps a minute, and then Ellie hesitantly raised the problem that had brought me to her door.

"You wouldn't have contacted me if you weren't a witness on the run," she began. "Please DON'T say anything about your identity or the case that brought you to WITSEC--you wouldn't be here if there wasn't a security breach. I'm also guessing that you were not born as a woman."

"Is it that obvious?" I asked.

"Not really, but there are certain gestures that young girls learn, gestures you have to make automatic. For instance, women rarely sit or lie down with their legs apart; they tend to sit straight up with their shoulders square and knees together, take very small bites of food and sips of beverage, and so on. Most long-haired women also automatically brush their bangs behind their ears, several times every minute, so they both see and hear better." She was trying to help me survive, so I attempted to change my posture and handle my hair as she had suggested.

"First things first--we need to give you a new name, social security number, and identity." Thirty minutes later, I had a Texas driver's license that said I was Susan J. Twinning and had been born on 02/26/20XP, which chopped three years off my actual age. She also gave me a smudged Social Security card with the appropriate name and a new number, explaining that the original Susan and her family had died of Covid at age 9. These cards should stand up to casual checks, including being run through a police data base, but I needed to memorize the place and date of birth, parents' names, and so on.

Ellie took a deep breath. "Now we come to the really hard part: what do you want to do next? Any credit card or bank account might lead pursuers to you, but if you want, you can stay here two nights and I'll give you two hundred in cash plus buy you a bus ticket out of town. We can also work on your 'girl lessons' so you can blend in better. I assume that WITSEC told you the alternative, right?"

I grimaced. "Yeah, enslavement."

She put a hand on my wrist. "Believe me, Susie, I get it. I was indentured for three years and it was horrible even though I had a best friend who helped me through the slave market process." Since she was talking about me--Wally--as her best friend, I barely restrained the urge to tell her who I really was. Instead, I melted a little inside.

Although she offered to let me think about it overnight, I realized that enslavement was the "least bad" option if I wanted to survive, so I told her I would do that. She appeared relieved that I had taken the rational alternative, but I cut her off by a further question:

"The thing is, Ellie--may I call you Ellie? [she nodded]--that I need more than gestures for my 'girl lessons.' As a woman, I'm a complete virgin, which will make the enslavement process even more horrific than it would be otherwise."

The compassion was evident on her hauntingly-familiar face. "The guy who invented this program anticipated that. I know it will be uncomfortable, but if you'll permit me, tomorrow we can use a strap-on to give you the physical if not the psychological experience of losing your virginities."

I should have been repulsed, but I was actually relieved, even overjoyed--my best friend was offering to be intimate with me, to get me over the first hump (unavoidable pun) of womanhood. If being an ex-slave wrangler sold into slavery wasn't sufficiently ironic, how about having the woman I had loved all my life as a male be the person who would introduce me to womanhood?? Despite those thoughts, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep promptly.

******

Next morning, after breakfast, Ellie had me practice walking, sitting, smiling just slightly whenever someone addressed me, and so on. I'd been so stressed out the previous night that I had ignored how odd I felt. Now, however, simply moving about her apartment was a sensuous experience, one I knew I would have enjoyed watching if I were still male. I no longer walked; I undulated, my hips, boobs, and hair swaying in a rhythm that continued for a few seconds after I came to a halt. And my entire body sent back sensations, often pleasurable ones, to my brain.

At one point, Ellie produced a pair of scissors and trimmed the ends of my hair to an even length at my shoulders. She also lent me a skirt and a pair of heeled sandals so I could have my first experience of walking in heels and sitting down wearing a dress or skirt. Embarrassed, I tried to joke that I probably wouldn't be wearing heels, skirts, or anything else while I was a slave.

Ellie replied, very kindly, "You never know what you'll be doing or wearing as a slave. I was all dressed up as a slave call girl for two years. Besides, think of this as preparation for when you regain your freedom." That shook me--somehow I had focused so much on the slavery issue that I forgot the fact that I was now, for the rest of my life, a woman. I was so startled by the thought that I collapsed back into a chair--then realized that I had automatically swept my hands under me to arrange the skirt properly. I guess I was learning.

After a light lunch, it was time to address the elephant in the room: breaking in my body for service. Ellie began with a short speech:

"Suzie, this is going to be weird for both of us. I'm probably almost as uncomfortable as you are about having sex together, although I had to use my mouth on more than one woman while I was a slave. The key thing to remember, both now and when you get to the slave market, is to just go with the flow. Obey every instruction without hesitation. Don't think about how strange it is for you to have sex as a woman--just smile and tell yourself it's a kinky adventure. My best friend got me through MY slave auction by telling me to pretend I was a cock-crazy bimbo who enjoyed all the attention she was getting--and it worked! You're a cute girl, so just tell yourself that you're really horny. The sluttier you are, the higher your sale price, and the higher your sale price, the better you'll be treated by your owner, got it?"

It was strange hearing her repeat, almost verbatim, my standard explanation to women about to be sold. But she was right, so I nodded my head and meekly promised to try.

"That's the spirit!" my former best friend told me. "Now, we're going to roleplay that you're a slave whom I'm going to order around and eventually fuck." I look shocked at that word, having never imagined the love of my life talking like that. "Get used to it," she replied, gently. "You'll hear a lot worse at the slave market, and it's all intended to turn you on for sale. One more thing, from now on just do what I tell you, and don't forget to call me "Mistress" when you answer a question. Got it?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"See! You're a natural at this. Let's get going--Strip, slut!"

Most of the women who came to the slave market where I once worked were already nude, but I'd given that command often enough that it seemed both familiar and odd to hear someone else say it to me. In for a penny, I thought, trying to smile and be both sexy and quick about removing my clothes, folding them hastily into a pile. (The very idea that my behavior could be sexy still seemed truly odd.) Perhaps because I did NOT have a lifetime of concealing my breasts and cunt, I found I could drop my bra and panties without hesitation. When I finished, I knew what was expected of me--the Present position, legs slightly apart, hands interlaced behind my neck, fully exposed to the gaze of my pretend mistress. The thought of standing like that in the same slave market where I had once worked seemed so foreign it didn't even faze me. I found myself thinking of the departed Wally as a disembodied observer while this strange new construct called Suzie acted like a slave hussy.

Ellie was obviously struggling, trying not to make me feel embarrassed while pretending to be a slave wrangler. To cover her thoughts, she walked slowly around me, gently touching my butt and belly as she did so. "Not a bad bod, slave," she deadpanned, then added "Collar!"

Having drilled slaves on block positions (aka slave yoga) for years, I knew how to perform all these orders but had never had to do so myself in my new body. Still, I managed to drop to my knees (thankful that she had carpeting, rather than the concrete floors of a slave market), using one hand to gather my shoulder-length black hair up, holding it out of the way while she buckled a plain leather collar around my neck. Since I was down there already, it was then simple to shift into kneeling position, hands again behind my neck, when she directed me to.

I heard some leather creaking and shifting behind me, then my once best (and now only) friend walked around in front of me. She was still fully dressed, but over her stylish trousers she now wore a tightly-cinched harness with a seven-inch dildo projecting from it. Keeping in character, she gave me the single command "mouth."

After three decades as a man, I should have been horrified by the idea of taking that thing into my mouth. However, she was a beloved female and the dildo was not a real cock, so I didn't hesitate, forming my lips into an O-shape and leaning forward slightly to accept the pretend penis. For the next several minutes, Ellie used her expertise as a sex slave to give me some pointers on the fine art of fellatio, something I had never expected to need to perform! Running my tongue around the head and shaft, using my lips to cover my teeth so that I could GENTLY clamp down on the fake dick. She insisted that I grin around the dildo while gazing upward at her face as if I was overjoyed to suck cock. Finally, she got me to straighten my neck and somehow overcome my gag reflex, allowing an inch or two to slide down my esophagus so that she was literally (plastic) balls deep in my mouth! She even triggered a switch that deposited some faux semen in my mouth; she reminded me that I was supposed to stick my tongue out, displaying the gooey mess, and not swallow until the mistress/master gave permission. How many times had I taught a new girl this? Yet now I had to pretend almost complete ignorance in order to maintain my cover.

Keeping in character, once I finished licking her probe clean I quietly said "Thank you, Mistress" for the privilege of serving her. She grinned and congratulated me on the right attitude. She gave me a bottle of water to drink, then snapped a leash onto my collar, ordered "Heel, slut," and slowly walked towards the bedroom I had used the previous night as I obediently crawled behind her.

*****

When we got to her bedroom, Ellie told me to relax for a minute, and asked how I was doing. Somehow I managed to express my concern.

"Mistress, I know you're teaching me how a slave girl gets used, and I need to learn all that. But now, I assume you're going to use that thing in my cunt." We both winced at the crude word used to describe female slaves, but she nodded agreement. "But it just hit me how big this is--can you be a little gentle in taking my virginity?"

She gave me a quick hug. "You've got it, sweetie. I don't get any kind of Lesbian vibe from you, but for now, we're going to try to make this pleasant for you."

She stood up, removing the harness, and now SHE was stripping for ME. Yeah, I'd seen her naked when she came through the Longhorn Slave Market, but now we were in her bedroom about to make love--trouble was, SHE was going to be fucking ME!

*****

Once Ellie had lubricated the fake dick, we tried rather clumsily to embrace each other on the bed. I blushed furiously as I spread my arms and legs, then was startled by the sensation of our breasts rubbing against each other. It felt even better when we kissed, something I had dreamed about for years--the reality felt even better than my imagination, even through the odd sensations of my new body.

I closed my eyes and just enjoyed this, thinking it was probably my last chance for fun intimacy for however long I was enslaved. Then she chuckled, causing me to open my eyes.

"Truth time," She answered, in response to the query on my face. "I was just thinking that this must seem very strange for someone who used to be male. I guess I'd better explain myself: I experimented with female-female love a few times in college, but stopped it because, every time I got in bed like this and kissed a girl, I kept imagining how much fun it would have been to make love with my best friend Wally. Too bad I never had the nerve to proposition him!"

Damn! I wanted to "out" myself but kept quiet because the knowledge of what Wally looked like right now could be deadly for her. Instead, I faked a laugh back at her, murmuring, "I can see where that would be a problem. I know what you mean, though, because I always imagined kissing MY best friend, only I didn't dare ask her and now it's too damn late. Let's just close our eyes and pretend, OK?" We did, and it was great.

I may have kept my cover, but my mind was so overjoyed by the chance to kiss E.J. that it sent out messages to alert my body. My breathing increased, my nipples erected, and I felt hot and moist down there where I used to have a cock. About the time I realized that, she gently pressed me down, rolling over and using her hips to press my thighs apart. She fumbled with my labia and then I was suddenly filled. That plastic shaft had seemed monstrous in my mouth and throat, but it REALLY occupied and stretched my birth canal. The sensations were all wrong but the overall sense of being intimate with the love of my life was marvelous. My body became even more aroused as I frantically clung to her and kissed her, moaning gently. She seemed equally excited, but apparently had enough lesbian experience to begin pumping her hips, alternately thrusting and withdrawing her false penis inside of me. I had half expected a sharp pain, but apparently my new body lacked a hymen. The sense of being stuffed down there was all wrong, but I told myself to forget it, and just think about making love with E.J.!

Both of us were breathing very fast, totally focused on each other while she frantically rammed into me. Her harness was rubbing against my new clit, and I hoped she was enjoying the same kind of friction, because it felt frakin' marvelous to me. I think my new body climaxed at least twice over the next five minutes, although the sensation was distinctly different from shooting swimmers out of my departed penis. I mean, a male climax is focused primarily on his dick, but now every part of my body shivered and thrilled at both the physical sensations and the feeling of intimacy with the love of my life. Besides, that woman now had control over my body as if she were the male and I the female, giving me a much more submissive sensation. Finally, she convulsed, apparently reaching her own peak before she collapsed on top of me, still quivering and breathing hard.

After we caught our breath, she rolled off me, staggered out of the room, and came back with a warm washcloth as well as a bottle of cold water. She insisted I drink up while she scrubbed the stickiness off my midsection. By this time my boobs, which had been frantically rising and falling like I was hyperventilating, had finally resumed normal motion.

"OK, Suzy. Now that you've lost your virginity..." Ellie began but stopped and glared at me when I erupted into laughter.

"Sorry." I murmured, trying to stop laughing. "I was just thinking how odd it was that YOU 'copped my cherry.'"

She smiled but tried to get back on track. "Ladies don't have cherries. As I was saying before I was so LEWDLY interrupted, now that you've lost your virginity, we need to finish practicing how you will service slavers and other men. Please get up into 'Slave Fours,' on your knees and elbows."

I dutifully "assumed the position" turning away from her on all fours, feeling as if I were a dog asking to be mounted by offering my rear end to the alpha in the room. That sensation was only magnified when I felt her hand spreading my labia (! I was repeatedly shocked by the realization that I had these female erogenous zones), after which she once again took possession of my body with that phallus, which felt so huge inside of me. I was still well-lubricated from our previous coupling, but the sensation of that thing pumping in and out of me brought forth a girlish moan from my new body. At first, I struggled just to keep my balance, and then the feeling was so overwhelming that I involuntarily pushed backwards every time she withdrew, trying to increase the friction with that shaft. I felt her magnificent melons rubbing against my back as she bent over me and reached around to play with my (!!) boobs and clit. Damn, that felt magnificent!

Once again, we both worked up to a rapid, frantic swaying with accompanying heavy breathing and various inarticulate murmurs such as "Oh, yeah" and "right there!" I found myself involuntarily begging my lover to "Fuck me, PLEASE Fuck me!" My mind was still male, but my body enjoyed all those female sensations, eventually shuddering into another climax as Ellie's masterful (mistressful?) possession demanded my surrender.