THE CONVENT, PART 4
by Zenna Swallows
Ryan hurried down the busy street, as fast as his heels would let him and without doing anything to call attention to himself. Or at least any more attention than would naturally be directed to the sight of an attractive young nun whose elaborate and skilful makeup contrasted vividly with her plain white robe and traditional wimple.
Keeping his eyes downcast to avoid the gazes of any curious passers-by, Ryan was all too aware of being a walking contradiction. At one level, he was completely comfortable with his appearance, with the sensuous feel of the lingerie underneath his habit, even with walking in heels that many women would find awkward.
But he was also terrified of being out in public looking like this, of being seen by other people - and especially other men - who might at any moment see through the trappings of femininity.
In other circumstances that contradiction might have paralysed him. But as it was, he was trying, but failing, to suppress a rising tide of elation. Because he had done it! After so much patience and suffering, over so many months - surely now well over a year, though he couldn't be sure - he had finally earned his chance at freedom.
At long last, he was out of the convent that had been his home and prison since the fateful night he first went to stay there.
The place where his manhood had been taken away from him. Sometimes in obvious and immediate ways, such as the clothing and makeup he'd been forced to wear, the concealment and chemical suppression of his cock, or the changes to his voice. But also through methods that worked more gradually and insidiously, such as the hormone treatments, injections and corsetry that had gradually given him B-cup breasts, a narrow waist, wide hips and a plump, rounded butt.
Not to say the training that had allowed him to walk, talk and act like the young woman he now appeared to be.
The opportunity for escape had only come because of his relentless discipline and self-control. After initially raging against his capture, he had been given a frightening glimpse of what his future could look like if he openly defied the cruel and well-resourced Order that had seized him. A lifetime spent in servitude, perhaps, or even worse - being confined to a cage and reduced to something closer to an animal.
As it was, he had gradually earned the trust of the perverted women who held him, even to the point of suffering the indignity of being relentlessly fucked by his former girlfriend Dana - or Sister Felicity as she was now known. And it had all now paid off.
The chance to get away had come completely out of the blue. It was not the product of any escape plan. He had long since given up on finding a way past the convent's security system, which included a tiny device embedded in his anal passage that would cripple him with pain if he got even a few metres away from the building.
He was outside that system now, and walking around the city in which he used to live and work, purely because he had been brought here.
The first he'd heard of what was mysteriously described as a "field trip" was when he and Agnes, the gorgeous young novice who had become his favourite bedmate, were summoned from breakfast to see Sister Mercy.
His immediate thought was that they must be in some kind of trouble. Not, surely, for what they were getting up to in bed together. It was true that they were routinely now not just kissing and cuddling when rostered to sleep together, but having sex - or the nearest thing it was possible to have with what was left of their cocks tucked away underneath a prosthesis designed to look like a vulva. But all the novices were doing that to a greater or lesser degree, and had been for months.
Left to his own devices, Ryan would probably have resisted the idea of fingering each other's assholes to trigger the pathetically small discharge that was all their shrivelled balls could now produce. Especially since the release was invariably accompanied by the exquisite frustration of a ruined orgasm.
But he had long since given in to Agnes' insistence that they "take care" of each other in that way each time they were assigned to the same bed. At least it stopped her spending the night wriggling and squirming against him - most of the time anyway.
Plus, he had to admit, relieving the aching tension that built up every day in his groin and his sensitive, easily excited nipples was often worth the price of the stalled climax. Especially as he got to kiss and fondle the delectable Agnes...
Every time he thought of her, he marvelled anew at how beautiful she was. He knew, intellectually, that she used to be a man - or a boy at least (she was still young, and he had no idea how long she'd been at the convent).
Like him, she lacked a pussy. And her breasts were far less developed than his, barely A cups in size. But in every other respect, she was everything he could want in a woman. The large, blue eyes that sparkled with connection and desire every time she spoke to him. The full, pouting lips that seemed ruby red even when she wasn't wearing lipstick. The lithe body. slim but not skinny, athletic but not muscled. The tiny but perfect nipples, which stiffened so readily when he touched them. And the pert buttocks that he so loved to caress, before he parted the cheeks to penetrate her tight asshole with his digits.
She was spectacular, far more enticing than anyone else in the convent, even his ex-girlfriend.
It was odd too, but he found he had no desire to fuck her. Not that he could right now, of course. But for someone who had spent the best part of the last decade relentlessly screwing the women of his choice, he found it strange that his fantasies were not of impaling her on the phallus he used to have.
He dreamed instead of being able to bring her to a proper orgasm - and of her being able to do the same to him. He wanted to feel her sweet juices pouring into his mouth and down his throat, and of filling her mouth in return as she drove her fingers into him.
The fact that the "juices" he wanted would actually be another guy's semen, or that he had come to enjoy having his rear passage stretched and his prostate stimulated (at least by her), were things he tried very hard not to think about...
Paradoxically, the strength of his attraction to the cute young blonde was also the reason why they saw so little of one other out of bed, other than when brought together by their lessons or chores.
The strategy that had served Ryan so well as an initiate, of keeping strictly to himself, was no longer viable. Not with all the novices being expected to chat incessantly to one other, to practice and reinforce the feminine mannerisms in which they were being so carefully schooled. The stoic demeanour that he cultivated in front of the senior nuns, or out in the corridors, had to be abandoned when conversing with his peers. Whether he felt like doing so or not, he was expected to smile and laugh along with the rest of them.
But even so, Ryan did his best to socialise with anyone bar Agnes. Not because he didn't want to talk to her - quite the reverse.
