What Have They Done to Me? Ch. 03

Warning: This chapter includes a detailed scene in which the character is reluctantly driven to engage in sexual intercourse with a man. Please do not read if you might find this upsetting.

Part 2 Recap: I had no choice but to begin going down on a different orderly each day to satisfy the craving. On the fourth day, I learned it will be Dr. Roberts who I have to tend to, and he has something special planned and wants me to join him for dinner. A group of hot, young nurses helps me get ready for my "date." I am trying to be cooperative, since I believe they are planning on releasing me tomorrow and giving me the antidote which will make the cravings go away. One of the nurses, Tiffany, leads me to Dr. Roberts' quarters.

A minute passed and Dr. Roberts opened the door, wearing a long-sleeve button-down dress shirt and chinos. I realized this was the first time I had seen him without his lab coat on. Even with the heels on, he stood significantly taller than me. I couldn't help but feel a surge of resentment at the sight of him - right from the very start, I had to suppress the urge to punch his smug, smiling face.

"Well, well, well," Dr. Roberts said, his eyes crawling up and down my body, clearly pleased with what he was seeing. His attention and enjoyment at the sight of my body made me very uncomfortable, especially with how tight the dress was above my waist and how much of my legs and cleavage were showing.

Tiffany cleared her throat, obviously reminding me of what she had told me a minute ago. She made eye contact with me, shooting me a glare. Reluctantly, I did what she had instructed me to do - I grabbed hold of my skirt, lifting it ever so slightly, then put one foot back and lowered myself toward the floor, executing that most feminine of gestures - the curtsy. I hated myself for it, but it seemed like the smart thing to do.

Dr. Roberts smiled, and judging from the way he lifted his eyebrows, he looked impressed, possibly even a little surprised. "You look absolutely stunning," he said.

I stood there silent for a moment, temporarily forgetting what Tiffany had advised me. She cleared her throat again.

"Thank you, Dr. Roberts," I said. I must not have sounded very enthusiastic, but if he noticed, he didn't show it.

"Please, call me Andrew." Until then, I had never known what his first name was. He turned toward my companion. "Thank you, Tiffany," he said, and she turned and left. I felt a surge of panic about being left alone with him. "Well, come in," he said, offering me his arm as if I was a helpless damsel. I didn't want to accept it, but I did anyway, and he walked me into his suite.

His quarters were spacious and luxurious, an entire apartment within the Genetech facility. He led me through a richly decorated living area with a couch, armchairs, and a large TV, which then transitioned into a dining room with a long antique-looking table below a magnificent chandelier. The table had already been set with a vase of flowers in the center, flickering candles, a bottle of wine, a couple wine glasses, and place settings for two. I was mortified by the romantic nature of the scene. Dr. Roberts - Andrew - walked me to one end of the table, pulled the chair out for me, and then pushed it in as I sat down. I didn't need to remind myself to keep my legs together - with the dress on, it would have felt very uncomfortable to sit the way I normally would have, with my legs spread apart.

I desperately wanted to ask him about what Tiffany had said earlier that day - whether they really were planning on letting me go and giving me the antidote. I initially planned to wait until it felt like the time was right, but I couldn't hold it back.

"Tiffany said you would be... releasing me tomorrow," I said, looking up at him as he lingered for a moment next to my chair. I said it apprehensively, as if he would change his mind in a heartbeat if I used the wrong choice of words.

"Did she now," Andrew replied with a smile. But that was all he said.

"I was just wondering..." I continued after a moment, pausing nervously. "... if you would be giving me... the antidote?"

Andrew immediately put his hand up, palm facing me, clearly gesturing to stop this line of questioning. "We'll talk about all this tomorrow," he said. "Tonight is about us." I didn't like the way he said the word "us," as if we had a relationship, and I was very disappointed I couldn't get him to confirm what Tiffany had told me, but I shrugged this all aside. After all, what other way was there to interpret Tiffany's words?

He poured me a glass of wine - the first alcohol I had been offered since entering the Genetech facility - then disappeared into the adjacent kitchen, returning with dishes of food. He served for me, placing portions of mashed potatoes, green beans, and a cut of beef onto my plate, and then served himself and took his place on the opposite end of the table. I wanted to get more of the wine in order to get myself as drunk as possible to make this whole experience a little more bearable, but Andrew ended up bringing the bottle to his side of the table, and I was nervous of doing the wrong thing and displeasing him by asking for more. I forced myself to drink it slowly and didn't get even remotely buzzed, realizing that my considerable tolerance to alcohol - the product of excessive drinking during my college years - had not been affected by the transformation.

As it turned out, Tiffany's advice - to let him do all the talking - wasn't necessary. It seemed he had no interest whatsoever in yielding the conversation over to me. He talked at length about himself, his work, his past, and his likes and dislikes, and he seemed totally uninterested in finding anything out about me. I was perfectly okay with this - it would have felt very strange talking about the man I had been and the life I had before, which had been turned upside down by what they had done to me. He droned on and on, occasionally making an attempt at a joke. I would force myself to giggle at these, though I was paying very little attention to what he was saying.

I was taking only tiny bites of my food and was mostly just moving it around the plate with my fork all throughout dinner. It was really good, but I didn't have much of an appetite, and I knew the process of satisfying the craving would be quicker if my stomach was empty. It was almost unbearable by then. I had expected him to have me go down on him before dinner, and I was surprised - and somewhat disappointed in a way - that he didn't. I just wanted to get it over with. He didn't seem to notice, or care about, the fact that I wasn't eating or that I seemed preoccupied.

Andrew leaned back in his chair when his plate was finally cleared, but to my dismay, he didn't stop talking. I continued to nod my head politely and feign interest, though I too placed my fork on my plate to indicate that I was finished as well. Finally, after a couple more minutes, he smiled and rose to his feet. I felt competing emotions at that moment. There was a stab of dread - here it comes, I thought - though I also welcomed it in a way, just to finally get the feeling I had been craving. I was determined to do it without complaint and to do my best to make sure that Andrew was happy with me at the end of it. After all, I had done it three times already and knew what I was in for, and the more I accepted it and made the best of it, the easier it would be.

Andrew rounded the table and slowly meandered up to my chair. I remained seated, looking back at him innocently, as if I didn't know what was about to happen.

"But, where are my manners?" he said, offering me his hand. I gave it to him and he helped me to my feet. "There's something I can help you with, isn't there?"

I nodded. He led me a few feet away from my chair, and I expected him to have me drop to my knees right then and there, maybe have me remove my dress first, but he didn't. Instead, he circled around me, looking me up and down appraisingly, clearly enjoying the sight of me. I felt increasingly anxious and impatient. Let's just get on with it, I thought to myself. I didn't like prolonging it any more than necessary. He stopped behind me, and then I felt his hands on my body for the very first time. He began running them up and down the curve of my waist, seeming to savor my feminine figure beneath the smooth, delicate fabric of the dress. I barely suppressed a shudder - it was the first time in my life that a man had his hands on me like this.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, with his hands on my hips, Andrew pulled me into him and started kissing the back of my neck. I was mortified to feel his mouth on me in such a way, though I have to admit it actually felt good to be kissed like that. His lips were setting off little waves of pleasant tingles, similar to a tickle. But my awareness that this was being done to me by a man took away any enjoyment I might have gotten from it. He was getting more adventurous with his hands, too, while I just stood there, awkwardly, as he went about his business. He was groping the front of my body now, his hands slowly making their way to my breasts, which he was now gently fondling as if they were his possession - which I suppose they were, in a sense. I didn't like to feel his hands on me in this way, touching such a private part of me, but of course there was nothing I could do about it. And all the while, he was grinding himself into me, and it was unsettling to realize that I could feel the stiffness of his rapidly hardening erection pressed up against my butt.

"You know," he whispered, as his kisses drifted to my ear and set off even more of those dishearteningly pleasant tingles, which felt so good that I found myself finally just accepting it, closing my eyes, and allowing myself to enjoy them, "there are other ways it can be absorbed."

A moment passed as he gently tugged on my earlobe with his teeth. Then, my eyes opened wide, and any reluctant enjoyment I was getting out of his kisses to my neck and ear dissolved in a second, as I finally understood his meaning. Dear God, I thought - he's suggesting we have sex. The thought of that filled me with horror - an even greater horror than I had experienced with what I had been made to do with the orderlies. I didn't want to do that. Anything but that. I shook my head emphatically.

He didn't answer me or even acknowledge my response. He was continuing to kiss my neck and ear and grind his erection against my butt. From the sound of his breathing, it seemed like he was getting more and more excited and worked up with every second that passed. His intentions were obvious, and it didn't appear that he was getting the message, so I knew I had to make it clearer.

"No," I said, shaking my head again. I couldn't believe he actually thought I would do that.

His response caught me completely off guard.

"Yes," Andrew said, with the self-assurance of a man who knew he was going to get his way. Suddenly, he spun me around so we were now face-to-face, his hands again on my hips. He was breathing harder than ever, his arousal evident, and he was looking at me with hungry, lustful eyes. I felt a strong urge to run, but I knew it would be useless. For one thing, he would easily be able to stop me and overpower me, even if I wasn't wearing those three-inch heels. Also, I didn't want to make him angry with me before tomorrow, and I needed to satisfy the craving. I shook my head again, but he just continued to look at me with the same confident expression, like his mind was already made up, like it was a foregone conclusion that what he wanted to happen was going to happen. Oh, God, I thought. I was in utter disbelief that he wasn't yielding.

"Not that," I whimpered. But he was completely undeterred and only nodded. "Please," I begged. I was reminded of past encounters in which I had been with a girl and I was pressing her for sex with the same determination that he was pressing me, as she responded to me like I was responding to him. And I was reminded of how I would continue to badger her until she finally gave up and reluctantly agreed. Talk about karma.

"It's the only way it's going to happen," he said with finality, in a supremely decisive tone.

I knew then that this had been his intention all along. And by then, I had learned all too well that there was no use defying him - the cravings gave him total and complete control over me and my body. My fate had been sealed the second I entered his room - no, it had been sealed the second he decided to invite me over for dinner. He took a step back and offered me his hand. I knew there was no use fighting it - it was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not. With the body they had given me, it should have been obvious all along that it would eventually come to this, that someone would insist on taking my virginity. I could have guessed that it would happen today, my last day at the facility, and that it would be with Dr. Roberts.

I felt utterly defeated. I finally relented and gave him my hand, then he led me through the doorway into the bedroom, bringing me all the way to the foot of his four-post bed. He turned to face me and then pulled me close to him so that our faces were inches apart, clearly trying to put his mouth onto mine. I was trying to angle away from him as much as possible.

"Kiss me," he commanded.

I was just as shocked and overcome with revulsion as I had been a moment ago when he had first suggested we have sex. The thought of kissing another man was almost as bad - maybe even worse - than being forced to go down on him. I once again shook my head.

"Kiss me," he said again, with even greater determination.

"I can't," I said pleadingly. "Please don't make me." But he just continued to look at me with that same self-assurance, as if he knew he would bend me to his will in the end. "I'm not attracted to men," I added desperately, as if this would make any difference to him.

It didn't. "Sure you are," he said. "You just haven't realized it yet. Just keep an open mind." And then: "If you want the craving to go away, you're going to have to give me what I want."

I knew he was right, but I still couldn't bring myself to do it. Fortunately, I didn't have to. Andrew suddenly placed his hand on the back of my head and pulled me into him, pressing his lips against mine. His eyes closed, but mine remained wide open. I couldn't believe this was happening. Instinctively, I tried to pull my head away from his, but he held it firmly in place with his hand. I was disgusted to feel his tongue enter my mouth and begin to explore, obviously seeking out my own, which was withdrawn like a frightened animal.

After a moment, Andrew drifted away from me, obviously displeased at my refusal to participate. "Like you mean it," he said sternly. "Like you were kissing a woman." And then, he added, "The better you make this for me, the faster it will go."

And then he pulled me back into his arms and his mouth found mine once again. I knew he was right. He could drag this out for as long as he wanted, and I was desperate for the craving to go away. So - although I hated myself for it - I allowed my eyes to close and began to kiss him back, my lips and tongue reluctantly responding to his, as if engaged in a playful dance. I realized quickly that, in many ways, this felt very similar to kissing a woman, so I tried to will myself into believing that's what I was doing. I conjured up the image of Tiffany, trying to psyche myself into believing that it was she who I was making out with. It wasn't so bad when I was imagining that - in fact, it was actually enjoyable, so long as I completely shut out the fact that it was happening with a man. But it was very difficult to maintain that illusion. For one thing, Andrew was so much bigger and taller than I was, with my head angled up toward his and my slender figure pressed against his large, imposing frame. All the while, I could feel him running his hands along the feminine curves of my body and the smooth, satiny material of the dress, a constant reminder of what I was wearing. Also, the way he was kissing me - aggressively, taking the lead - was the way I would have done it with a girl. To make matters worse, I could occasionally feel the roughness of his stubble, and I was continuously breathing in the masculine scent of his cologne and aftershave.

My arms were still at my side, but he made short work of that. His mouth briefly drifted away from mine for a second time. "I want to feel your hands on me," he said, and then he was kissing me once again. I complied and placed my hands on his body, one on his upper arm and the other around to the small of his back.

And just like that, to my utter chagrin, I found myself making out with another man, Dr. Andrew Roberts, passionately, in his arms, at the foot of his bed. I was painfully aware that the girls had been right about one thing - I knew women would probably agree he was a very good kisser. A reluctant part of me couldn't help but admire his abilities in this regard; I never knew kissing could be like this. But I was terrified about where this was going to inevitably lead to in the end, though I went along with it all the same. I had no choice. He was running his hands up and down my body, leaving few parts of me unexplored. His hands quickly made their way up the skirt of my dress and found my butt, which he began to squeeze, drawing me into him. I was once again reeling from having him touch me in such an intimate way. And that's when I realized with a wave of dread that I could once again feel his rigid arousal pressed up against me. He seemed to be getting even more worked up and excited, pushing it against me with his hips. It seemed to be escalating very quickly. We stopped only for as long as it took for him to step out of his shoes, and he had me do the same - which made him tower above me even more - then I was back in his arms making out with him as before.

His hand soon found the zipper on the back of my dress, and he began to lower it slowly. I felt a sudden surge of distress as I realized my dress was about to be removed, revealing so much more of my precious body. Then, as he continued to kiss me, he moved the straps to the side of my shoulders, guided my arms to allow the straps their way, and began pushing the dress down my body. It first revealed my bulging bra, and then my flat, bare tummy and belly button and waist, and then the lacy garter belt and the hem of my panties. And then, once it was freed of the voluptuous curve of my hips, the dress fell the rest of the way to the floor, leaving me in nothing but my revealing underwear. He took a step back, taking in the sight of my sexy, feminine body, as I just stood there, meekly, feeling more exposed than I had ever felt in my life.

"Undress me," he suddenly commanded.

I cringed, but I knew there was no use defying him. I took a step forward and began methodically unbuttoning his shirt, untucking it as I went. I opened it and pushed it down his arms and let it fall to the floor behind him. Underneath that, he was wearing a tight white tank top which revealed his wide, muscular shoulders and big, powerful arms with their bulging biceps and thick, hairy forearms. The tank top strained against his massive chest, underscoring his impressive strength, and then I pulled it over his head and let that fall to the floor as well, revealing the rest of his ripped, muscular torso. He was just as well-built as the orderlies had been, with the kind of body I knew women like Tiffany and Jennifer would yearn to submit to - the kind of body I would have killed to have. His bulky chest with its perfectly sculpted pecs seemed to pile above his chiseled abs and lean, toned waist. Unlike the orderlies, his chest wasn't shaved; he wasn't what I would have considered overly hairy, but his pecs and abs had a subtle amount of body hair that only seemed to magnify his virile masculinity.

"And the pants," he said.

Reluctantly, as he looked down at me, watching expectantly, I reached down and unbuckled his belt, then unfastened and unzipped his pants, feeling the impatient hardness of his erection within. Before I could go any further, though, he pulled me back into him, as if he couldn't wait another second, and started making out with me again. He began to work his pants down his legs on his own as his mouth devoured mine even more passionately than before. He finally moved back and frantically stepped out of his pants, revealing his hairy, muscular legs and a tiny pair of black briefs. I intended to avert my gaze from the intimidating bulge where the fabric of his briefs clung to his manhood, which seemed to be barely contained within, but my eyes did it of their own accord, almost like they were trying to get it over with. He then pulled my body into his, so much of our skin in contact with the other's now that we were both down to just our underwear. His hands once again found my butt which he eagerly squeezed, and then he lifted me off the ground. Instinctively, I found myself lifting my legs and wrapping my arms around him and holding on as he carried me into the bed, as if I weighed nothing, and set me down. Then he was on top of me in an instant, kissing me with even greater urgency than before, like the floodgates of passion had been unleashed - for him, anyway.

"Hands," he reminded me. "I want to feel them moving." I did as he directed, positioning my hands on him like before, except this time I reluctantly started to run them along the firm contours of his muscular body as ordered.

If it had been difficult to pretend it was a woman I had been kissing before, now it was impossible. For one thing, there was the substantial weight of him on top of me, the imposing bulkiness of his manly body bearing down upon the slender softness of my own. I could also feel his stiff cock against me the entire time - he continued to push it against me with his hips, anxious as it was to enter my body and feel its pleasure. All the while, since I was required to keep my hands moving, I was reluctantly becoming well-acquainted with the intricate curvature and firmness of his muscular arms, shoulders, and back, experiencing his manly strength with even greater vividness than before. Gone was the fantasy that it was Tiffany I was kissing; there was no escaping the reality that it was a man I was doing this with, and not just any man - it was Andrew. I tried to remind myself that it felt good to be kissed like this as long as I tuned out the fact that it was happening with a guy, and I tried to enjoy it as best I could, but it was very difficult.

Gradually, the rest of our clothing came off, piece by piece. This was all a bit of a blur, but at one point he maneuvered me so that we ended up on our sides, our arms and legs tangled up with one another, and I could feel his hands manhandling every inch of my body that he could reach, paying special attention to my thighs and butt, all as he began detaching the garter straps from my stockings. Then somehow I was on top of him, straddling him, and that's when I felt his hands find the back of my bra. He unhooked it effortlessly with one hand, removed it, and tossed it to the side of the bed, letting it fall lazily to the floor. My naked breasts were now free, hanging down shamelessly, and he cupped one in his hand and squeezed it enthusiastically, enjoying its feminine softness. It was distressing to have this private part of me - one of my most private parts - exposed and manhandled like it was, though I had no choice but to cope with it. We ended up back on our sides, our arms and legs tangled up with each other once again, and he finished the task of detaching the stockings as he continued to feel up my body. He did this patiently, as if the act itself gave him immense pleasure, as he continued to grope every part of me that he could reach - my thighs, my waist, my back, my butt, my breasts. Every bit of me was his for the taking, and the experience of having my physical body the subject of such enjoyment and attention was entirely foreign to me.

Then, the moment I had dreaded: he began pushing his briefs down his legs, releasing his manhood at last, and I could feel it brushing up and poking against me. He grabbed my hand and guided it to his cock the moment it was free, and - though I didn't want to - I wrapped my hand around his shaft and began to stroke it. It was the first time I ever had my hand around another man's penis. It was strange to be touching one without the ensuing pleasure that came with touching my own - though I suppose it was better than having it in my mouth. He felt big - really big - just as big as Derek's had been, if not bigger. I was extremely intimidated by its length and girth, knowing that it would soon be inside of me.

I felt dazed this entire time, like this was all happening to someone else. The dread and horror I had initially felt about having to go through with this had given way to one single, very potent emotion - I was scared. I was already past the initial stages, which had seemed so insurmountable at the time, but - just like before - they hadn't been as bad as I thought they would be. But the fear was still there. And the subject of my fear was his massive rock-hard dick which I now had in my hand. I knew exactly what was going to happen - that it was going to enter my body - and I was afraid it was going to hurt.

It was like he read my mind.

"Just relax," Andrew said soothingly. There I was, topless, once again on my back, with his naked, muscular body on top of me and his hard, thick erection in my hand. "It won't hurt. I promise."

Andrew started kissing my neck just like before, and then drifted down to my naked breasts. He began to suck on my nipples, stimulating them with his lips and tongue. It was only then that I realized how hard my nipples had become, though I didn't understand why. I was utterly shocked at how good it felt to have him attend to my breasts the way he did, although I didn't want it to, just like when he had been kissing my neck. It was the same kind of pleasurable tingles, but this time, they were more potent and seemed to radiate down my body. I even somehow felt them between my legs. He did this for a while, first one, then the other, then he traveled further down my body, sensuously pressing his lips and tongue against my bare, smooth skin, finding spots that seemed particularly sensitive to his touch. I never had another person's mouth on me like this - it was something the women I had been with simply didn't do - and I didn't exactly mind it in a way. In certain places, it gave off the same kind of pleasant tingling sensation I had just been introduced to which seemed to penetrate me to my core, though I couldn't escape how protective I was of my body.

He began repositioning himself farther down the bed and I gratefully released his cock from my grasp as soon as it was out of reach. He moved away from me, kneeling in front of me between my legs. Then, he methodically began to finish the task of undressing me as I stared up at the ceiling, trying to contain my apprehension. First, he pulled my garter belt down my body; then, he took hold of each stocking and peeled it from my legs; then, finally, he grabbed hold of my panties and slid them down, past my feet. He removed each piece slowly, deliberately, as if he was unwrapping a present.

I was now completely and totally naked, my new beautiful, sexy, feminine body completely exposed to him. I lay there helpless and - I suppose - innocent, untouched until then. I braced myself. Here it comes, I thought, adding a silent prayer - please don't let it hurt too bad.

But he didn't do it - at least, not yet. Instead, he started lovingly kissing and licking and nibbling his way up my legs, his final destination evident. I don't know why, but I couldn't help but feel momentarily self-conscious at first, as if I was insecure about my most private, womanly area, even though I had thoroughly washed and groomed myself earlier that afternoon. And, come to think of it, even if I hadn't, why should I care? But regardless, that self-consciousness gradually melted away as his kisses and licks drew closer. My skin was feeling more and more sensitive to his attention the closer he got, and he also slowed down and began taking his time more and more as he approached. It was the most peculiar experience as the tickling, tingling sensation he was inspiring continued to build and build as he made his way up my inner thighs, creating a feeling of mounting anticipation. Eventually, he was circling my labia with his lips and tongue, and by then, the anticipation was almost unbearable. I was shocked to discover that I had become somewhat desperate to have that part of me stimulated.

Then, at last, he was there, and - totally unexpectedly - he began to go down on me. I didn't want it to, but it felt good - really good. He was clearly skilled at this kind of thing, far more than I had been. When I had done this in the past with girls I had been with - and, by now, this had seemed like a lifetime ago - I had no idea what I was doing, nor did I care to. I just seemed to stumble my way through it, going through the motions, getting it out of the way because I felt like I was supposed to, before moving on to the main event. I was never very concerned with whether the women I was with were enjoying themselves. But Andrew seemed to savor it, as if he had an insatiable appetite for my body. And he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. He was doing things with his lips and tongue that made it feel like a warm, wet, pleasant force against my most sensitive, intimate areas.

He ended up doing this for a while. I had closed my eyes and did as he had advised earlier - I tried to relax, and just let it happen. There was nothing I could do to stop it, after all. And I tried my best not to let on how good it felt, not wanting to give him that satisfaction. I hated him and what he had done to me, what he was making me do, but I didn't really hate what he was doing now - I was even kind of enjoying it, deep down inside. It was like waves of pleasure slowly washing over me.

After a few minutes, he began using his hand as well as his mouth. Feeling his finger sliding inside of me made me immediately tense up. "Just relax," he told me again, sensing my apprehension and distress. The sensation of his finger entering me and probing inside of my body in such a way was distressing to say the least. I had done this to myself quite a bit over the last few days, but feeling someone else's finger doing it made it an entirely different experience. And I wasn't prepared for it to feel as good as it did - much better than it had felt for me alone. I started allowing myself to relax again. I even found myself arching my back at times and exhaling softly against my will as jolts of pleasure hit me, though I tried to suppress it. He seemed to know how to work his hand just as well as he had worked his mouth, and at times, he was using them both, playing my body like it was a musical instrument he had long ago mastered.

But finally, he stopped. I couldn't help but feel momentarily disappointed - I had found myself temporarily lost in the pleasurable sensations he was delivering to my body. I opened my eyes, lifted my head, and I saw why. Instantly, I understood. There he was, crawling up my body, a fiercely lustful glean in his eyes, like he couldn't wait another second, his hard cock hanging down like a mighty obelisk, pulsating impatiently. I felt a stab of fear - I knew this was it. But before I could even react, I felt him slowly pushing himself inside of me, and it didn't hurt like I thought it would. The entire time he had been fingering me, I guess he had been preparing me for this - stretching it out maybe, or loosening it up. And it seemed to have done the trick. Also, I guess I was so wet that it just seemed to slide right in. I had no idea until then how wet I was. I had felt it building this entire time - a strange kind of warm moistness inside of me between my legs - and didn't really pay much attention to it. But now I understood what was happening - my body was responding to what he had been doing and readying itself for him. It almost felt like a betrayal - like my body was enjoying it, wanting it, even inviting it, though my mind was not.

Although it didn't hurt, nothing could have prepared me for the way it felt to have a part of himself - such a big part - inside of me like that, filling my body up with his own. It took all my concentration not to cry out as he slowly buried himself inside of me. And nothing could have prepared me for the way it felt when he pulled back and slowly began to thrust. It felt more intense than anything I had ever experienced in my entire life. Without intending to, I found myself with my arms wrapped tightly around his muscular torso, as if I was holding on for dear life. I had the strongest urge to cry out - not from pain, but from the sheer intensity of the experience. It took all my concentration and effort to stop myself from doing that - I simply did not want to give him the satisfaction of thinking it felt good for me.

But it did feel good. Unbelievably good - even better than before when he had been going down on me. I accepted this fact once I was passed the initial shock at the intensity of the experience. Like before, I didn't want it to feel good. And I certainly didn't want him to know it did. I hated the fact that I was forced to do this. I hated that I was lying there, completely nude, exposed, vulnerable, bare before this man, in an act of total and complete sexual submission. I hated the fact that this big, naked, muscular man - who was nearly twice my size, with more strength in one arm than I had in my entire body - was on top of me, with my legs spread apart for him, utterly dominating me in such a way. I hated his grunts and moans, which told me in no uncertain terms how good this felt for him, how he was using my body for his pleasure. I hated to be engaged in such an intimate act with him, the totality of our naked bodies pressed against each other. I hated that his face was mere inches away from my own, alternating between nuzzling my cheek, burying itself in my hair, and kissing me passionately, all as he made love to me.

But, as much as I hated it, I can't deny that it felt good. And it seemed like the pleasure was building.

He had gone easy on me so far, pulling back and sliding in slowly, gently, steadily. I had my eyes closed the entire time, my head mostly thrown back on the pillow when he wasn't kissing me. I found myself breathing hard, like I had just gone for a jog. I was aware of nothing except the feeling of having our bodies pressed against each other like they were, and the firm muscularity of his torso against my hands as I held onto him - it really felt like I couldn't let go - and of course what was happening down there. It was such a strange and foreign thing to experience pleasure in such a way. It's hard to explain. As a man, this kind of pleasure had always come from the outside, in a sense, from having that part of me somewhere else. Whether it was inside a woman's body or in her mouth or in my own hand, it all amounted to basically the same thing when you think about it - all those pleasurable feelings originating externally, from outside my body. This was entirely different - this was internal, the pleasure coming from deep within myself, from having something else inside of me. It was almost like it was an entirely different realm of sexual pleasure, one which I was experiencing for the first time, reluctantly, against my will.

I suddenly felt Andrew push himself away from me - with his torso no longer pressed against me, I could now feel my breasts bouncing helplessly and spiritedly with every single thrust. I knew he could now see the entirety of my naked form beneath him and, as if inspired by the pleasing sight of this, he began pumping into me faster and with greater force and vigor than before. It was becoming harder and harder to hold back the cries and moans that wanted to escape my lips. It must have been so obvious to him. He leaned in at one point and started kissing my neck again, which once again made me arch my back against my will, and then - unexpectedly - he gave my neck a playful bite that sent a sudden jolt of gentle pain through me. A noise escaped me that sounded like half yelp, half moan, and I was horrified to realize that, deep down inside, I really liked the way that felt.

Although my entire conscious awareness seemed to be entirely consumed by the intense foreign sensations I was experiencing, at some point, I had a sudden moment of clarity. Here I am, I thought, having sex as a woman, getting fucked by a man. Here I am, on my back, completely and entirely naked, being sexually dominated, being taken, by this big, muscular guy. Here I am, with Andrew on top of me, pumping away steadily into the wet warmth of my body. I couldn't help but wonder, rhetorically, how on Earth could this have happened?

Andrew suddenly paused for a moment, grabbing hold of my legs and lifting them to his shoulders so that they were sticking straight up into the air, leaving me feeling even more exposed and vulnerable than before. My eyes opened momentarily to see what he was doing, and then he began to drive his cock into me even harder and deeper than before, deeper than I would have ever thought possible. My eyes rolled back into my head as I felt his cock plunging so deeply into my body that his pelvis was now coming into contact with my own. I couldn't believe there was room for it all inside of me, but it felt like my body was ready for it, wide open and dripping wet. That was when he sped up, as if he had always been withholding some energy until now. The pleasure mounted to impossible new levels of intensity, and I could no longer hold it back - to my utter mortification, muffled moans began to escape me with every thrust as he pounded me in this way. There was simply no stopping it. It was like I didn't have control over it anymore. And it kept feeling better and better, the pleasure building and building, like I was on a rollercoaster that was climbing higher and higher up the lift hill, about to make that final plunge.

He fucked me like this for maybe a minute or two more, at one point reaching down and manhandling my naked breasts, and all the while, my inadvertent moaning continued to intensify despite my best efforts to hold it back. Suddenly, something extremely unexpected happened. Andrew let go of my legs and let them fall back down to the bed, and then he moved in close to me, all as he continued to thrust. And then I heard his voice, and I felt his hand grab hold of my neck with startling intensity. He was practically choking me.

"Open your eyes," he commanded.

I opened them instantly, not so much in compliance to his order, but because I was so startled by the fact that he had grabbed hold of my throat in such a way. Our eyes locked, and then he lowered his head so that our faces were barely an inch apart. What is he doing? I wondered. Meanwhile, he was continuing to drive himself into me, and I was continuing to moan against my will with his every thrust.

"I want to be looking into your eyes when you cum," he said in a confident, authoritative tone.

For a second, my brain struggled to grasp his meaning. What was he getting at by "when I cum?" What could he possibly mean?

And then I thought - oh.

Oh.

Oh, God.

"Oh, God," I said. The words just spilled out of me. "Oh, God." I tried to stop myself, but I simply couldn't. "Oh, God!"

It was almost like the pleasure that I was experiencing had intensified to the point where I couldn't stand it anymore, like I was going to come apart at the seams, like I was going to dissolve into a state of nothingness, like I was going to explode in a fireball. My hands, which I had suddenly realized had come to be holding onto his arms, tightened their grip on his hard, flexed biceps, as if to tether me to reality.

"Oh, God! Oh, God!"

I couldn't even begin to try to contain it. I began to cry out pathetically, pitifully, even though I hated myself for it. "Ohhhhh! Ohhhhh! Ohhhhh!" There was simply no holding it back. It was like the pleasure inside of me was creating so much inexorable pressure that it had to be vented, like steam escaping a tea kettle, and the only way it could be vented was through the cries and shrieks that were escaping me. It once again reminded me of being on a rollercoaster, and the feeling I got on that very first drop, when the thrilling intensity feels almost too much to bear and it's impossible not to scream. It was like that, except magnified by a thousand.

I was clearly experiencing the female variation of an orgasm, something I had experienced thousands of times as a man, but this was different - deeper somehow, longer lasting, and much, much, much more intense. All of a sudden, it now made sense the way women were supposed to cry out during sex (although they had never done this for me, even the ones I paid for). And all the while, my eyes were locked with Andrew's. In hindsight, I suppose I could have looked away or shut my eyes, but by that point, I was so accustomed to doing whatever he told me to do that it had become second nature for me to obey him, and I was intimidated by the fact that he was holding onto my neck in such a way, on the verge of choking me. Also, I was barely conscious of anything beyond the previously unimaginable pleasure I was experiencing.

"Ohhhhh! Ohhhhh! Ohhhhh!"

I don't know how long this went on for - it couldn't have been more than a half a minute, though it seemed to go on for an eternity and be over in an instant, all at the same time - but at last, the pleasure began to ebb, and I got control over myself, and I stopped myself from crying out like that, though I continued to moan helplessly with every thrust. I was surprised at how good it continued to feel even though I was obviously already past my orgasm.

And somehow, someway, our eyes remained locked. It was like I was hypnotized, as Andrew maintained his grip on my throat, his face right up against mine.

"My turn," I heard him say. And then he kissed me, hard, and he let out his greatest moan yet, muffled as it was by my mouth, and I could feel what I knew was his cock exploding deep within my body, depositing his seed inside of me, as if in frantic search of my own. I could feel every contraction as it released its contents at last, and I could feel the spreading warmth of his semen inside of me, and I could almost feel his pleasure as my own as he continued to kiss me and moan into my mouth, his tongue curled around mine. Again and again and again, I heard him moan, and again and again and again, I felt his cock contract inside of me, filling me up with his warm, gooey load. In reality, being with someone in such a way - our faces so close, their mouth on mine, the totality of our naked bodies pressed against each other, as I was such a close witness to the pleasure they were experiencing, which my body was providing - was the most profoundly intimate experience of my life. But of course, to my everlasting shock, it had been with a man.

At last, it was over, it had stopped, and Andrew finally stopped kissing me, and he let go of my neck, and my head was allowed to drift back to the pillow. I felt like I was barely conscious, my brain scrambling to process the immense pleasure it had just experienced for the very first time. Andrew finally slid his dick out of me, and he rolled over and lay down on his back, and we both began catching our breath.

There's not much to say about what happened next. He hadn't been lying - the craving really could be satisfied that way. I could feel the blissful relief sweep through me as just enough of his semen was absorbed through the lining of my vagina. As for Andrew, now that he had fucked me, he seemed to be done with me in an instant. He had things to do, he said, climbing out of bed and fetching his clothes, then began to dress. I was disoriented at the time, and my eyes absent-mindedly followed him leaving the bed, and I couldn't miss the sight of his rounded muscular butt which I was seeing for the very first time. I remembered Vanessa's comment about it, and I had to admit that it was just about as perfect as a man's ass could be - the kind I wanted to have. I just knew Vanessa and the others would have gone crazy at the sight of it.

As Andrew dressed, it was like I finally came to my senses. I was still lying there, completely naked, feeling exposed, so I pulled the bed sheet over me. Some very peculiar emotions began swirling around inside of me. At first, I felt utterly ashamed at what I had done, at what I had allowed him to do (though it wasn't like I had a choice). But I also found myself feeling used. "Take as much time as you need," Andrew was saying indifferently. He was acting as if I was nothing to him, as if what just happened between us meant nothing to him, which - come to think of it - was fine by me, I told myself, and I wondered at the strange, inexplicable fact that I had felt a momentary surge of resentment about his sudden indifference toward me. I even felt an incredibly potent and wholly unwelcome yearning to be praised by him, comforted by him, even held by him, which came as a complete and total shock to me. But that feeling was gone in an instant as I remembered that I should be glad to be getting rid of him because of how much I hate him so. He gathered up my clothing and tossed it onto the bed next to me. "I'll send someone to walk you back to your room." And with that, he was on his way out the door.

I flung the sheet away and rushed to the bathroom - still naked - the instant I heard the outer door close behind him. I desperately felt the need not just to relieve myself, but also to clean myself up a little. It felt like some of his semen, or maybe it was my own wetness, or both, was wanting to leak out of me. I was very surprised to find my legs feeling weak and shaking helplessly for some reason. It took me a while to get dressed afterwards - the panties, the bra, the garter belt, the stockings, and, finally, I started to put on the dress.

I felt dazed. I think I was somewhat in a state of shock from what had just occurred. But I also couldn't help but feel a strange sense of lingering satisfaction after having orgasmed in such a way, as if a deep itch had just been scratched, as if a weight I didn't even know was there had been lifted off of me. Of course, I didn't want to feel any satisfaction as a result of what Andrew had just done to me, and I resented it, but it was there all the same.

I was terribly embarrassed when the orderly Andrew had sent for suddenly appeared in the doorway of the bedroom as I was still dressing - of course it was Derek; why, oh why, did it have to be Derek? I was struggling to lift the zipper of my dress behind me at the time, and, after several unsuccessful attempts, I could no longer deny his offers of assistance and needed him to zip it up for me. I could feel him lingering as he purposefully took his time, using the opportunity to breathe in the scent of my hair, and I just knew he was leering at my body, fucking me with his eyes, as he did this. I was mortified to think that he must have known what had just happened, what it was that Andrew and I did - after all, why else would my dress have become unzipped?

I suddenly felt a momentary surge of panic as he stood there behind me. It occurred to me that Derek could do whatever he wanted with me right now. There we were, alone, in Andrew's private personal quarters. All he had to do was grab me and haul me over to the bed and bend me over, push up the skirt of my dress, unhook the garter straps, and yank down my panties. There would be nothing I could do to stop him. I would be utterly powerless to resist. I was so weak now - helplessly weak, soft and small and powerless - unable to resist a man so big, so mighty, so commanding, as he was.

Even if I did something extreme, like scream, there was no guarantee that anyone would hear it - in fact, I doubted anyone would, since it was obvious that Andrew's apartment was located in a secluded part of the facility, and the lights had been off in all the rooms we passed on our way over here. The thought of this happening - Derek bending me over the bed and fucking me in such a way, holding me down, his hand on my back, pressing my against the mattress, and pumping away at my body, all as he enjoyed the sight of my naked butt - was acutely distressing to me. What happened with Andrew was bad enough, but at least I had consented to it. Then again, I suppose I didn't really consent, since I had no choice because of the cravings they had given me, but I had gone along with it. With Derek, though, I wouldn't be going along with it - it would be something I'd be physically forced to do. Also, he probably wouldn't be so concerned about it not hurting for me.

My heart was racing, the anticipation and fear building as Derek continued to stand there behind me. It was obvious that he wanted me, badly, and at that moment, I was his for the taking. He could have me any way he wanted.

But then, at last, after what seemed like an eternity, he finally circled around me, crossed the room, and picked up my shoes, then handed them to me. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was also perplexed to realize that this experience had left me blushing intensely, and my nipples were hard as a rock, and I was also feeling that same warm wetness as before - there was even a subtle tingling sensation between my legs. I came to the horrifying realization that my body had become extremely aroused by the experience, as if it actually wanted Derek to do those things to me. I couldn't imagine that would have been what a normal woman would have experienced in a situation like this. And, as impossible as it was to imagine, I realized with horror that there was a very good chance the genetic, hormonal predisposition of my body was purposefully designed this way - to respond like that in situations like this. For obvious reasons.

After I put my high heels on, Derek led me back to my room. He offered me his arm to steady myself as we went - I was clearly having a little difficulty walking, not just because of the heels but because my legs were still a little shaky - but I refused to accept his help. After what felt like an eternity, I was finally back in my room. "Have a good night," Derek said in a mocking sort of tone, and shut the door behind him.

I was alone at last, and I tried not to think about what happened. That won't do any good, I thought to myself. What's done is done. The important thing is that tomorrow, I will finally leave this place, and I will never have to do these kinds of things ever again. I stripped naked, threw all the clothes into a heap on the floor, dressed once again in the now comfortably familiar hospital gown, and lay down. I spent the rest of the evening watching a mindless action movie. But, as I was finally drifting off to sleep, a horrifying thought came to me - dear God, could I have gotten pregnant from that? He did ejaculate inside me, after all, and I did have the body of a woman now. My eyes widened in horror. The thought of getting pregnant filled me with dread like I had never experienced before - even more so than the thought of getting a period. It was quite a while before I finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

It was Dr. Reilly who came to visit me the following morning. I had been awake for a while, sitting up in bed, watching TV, but paying little attention to it. I was already feeling the dreadful craving - it was always there when I woke up in the morning. And I was still anxiously wondering whether there was a possibility that a baby was now growing inside of me - and not just any baby, but Andrew's baby. It's very hard for me to admit this, but there was a part of me - a hidden part, buried deep within my newly converted feminine subconscious - that found the notion of that to be pleasing in some incredibly unwelcome way, but this was the absolute last thing I was willing to even come close to acknowledging.

"Good morning," Dr. Reilly said brightly, carrying what looked to be a small silver suitcase.

The words spilled out of me.

"I had a question," I said, trying to sound nonchalant about it. "Is it possible to get... pregnant?" I tried to mask my concern, as if I was just asking for curiosity's sake. I didn't want to hint toward what Andrew and I did yesterday, though I was sure she already knew.

"No," Dr. Reilly replied as she set the suitcase down. I breathed a sigh of relief. The smirk on her face made it obvious that she was well aware of why I was asking that question. "One aspect of a woman's body that we alter during the transformation is to prevent the possibility of pregnancies. After all, the whole purpose of our work is to create the perfect sexual companions for our customers, and what would get in the way of their enjoyment more than if our girls were to get pregnant and have a baby? Even the risk of pregnancy would be detrimental to their enjoyment." Dr. Reilly smiled. "No periods, either. We want our girls to be accessible twenty-four/seven."

Although that, too, was a relief, I could only glare at her, and then I looked away, an angry expression on my face. Their "girls" - the "perfect sexual companions" - that was referring to me as well. And in light of what happened yesterday, it made me more bitter than ever. Even though I had intended yesterday to be nice and polite and friendly, the experience with Andrew - having to allow him to make love to me, to lose my virginity to him - had left me just as bitter as ever.

"If you think about it, our test subjects get the best of both worlds," Dr. Reilly continued. "They get all the best things about being a woman, which in my opinion is far better than being a man, and none of the drawbacks."

I didn't share her enthusiasm.

"Now, down to business. Today is your last day here," Dr. Reilly said, not seeming to notice my unfriendliness. She paused for a moment, beaming at me. I didn't know if she was waiting for me to express gratitude or what, but I remained silent. Internally, however, I felt enormous relief.

"You probably have a lot of questions," she went on, opening the suitcase. Inside, secured in black foam, was an intimidating looking syringe. She picked it up. "We'll get to all that. First, though, we need to take care of your cravings."

She gestured for me to position my arm a certain way for her, and I did. I was angry with her, but I knew this nightmare was finally about to be over - she was about to give me the antidote.

"You'll feel a bit of a pinch."

She gave me the injection, which did hurt a little. I winced.

"There," she said, placing a tiny bandage where the needle had pierced my skin. "See? Not so bad."

I rubbed the skin where the injection had been. "How long before it takes effect?" I asked after a few seconds, as Dr. Reilly was placing the syringe back in the suitcase and closing it shut.

"You should feel the effects immediately," she answered, and then began looking at me expectantly. I nodded.

I expected it to go away immediately because of what she had just explained, but I still felt the craving. I waited a few more seconds, and after I still felt no change, I couldn't help but ask. "Is it normal to still feel it - the craving?"

"Of course," Dr. Reilly answered, smiling.

I nodded again. A few more seconds passed. The craving was still there; if anything, it felt like it was getting worse. I was beginning to get confused. She said it was supposed to take effect right away, didn't she?

"I thought you said I would feel the effects immediately," I said, my confusion evident.

"You are," she answered.

I realized this made no sense whatsoever. It was supposed to take effect immediately, so why would I still feel the craving - why, in fact, would it feel like it was getting even worse - if the whole purpose of the injection was to make the cravings go away? Unless...

A wave of terror gripped me. The words erupted out of me: "That is the antidote... isn't it?"

"Of course that's not the antidote," Dr. Reilly replied. I took in a short, panicked breath. She paused, a menacing smile forming on her face. "That was a booster shot."

My eyes widened in horror. I felt dizzy. Oh, no, I thought. Oh, no, no, no.

"This is going to intensify your cravings and decrease the time it takes for them to set in," Dr. Reilly explained cheerfully. I stared at her in disbelief, my mouth gaping open. And then: "You're going to need it. You see, some of our wealthier benefactors have been requesting a full demonstration of our capabilities before investing any more money into our venture. That's where you come in."

Oh, God, no. It felt like the room was beginning to spin. A "demonstration" of their capabilities. I knew exactly what she meant by that: a straight man transformed into a beautiful, sexy young woman against his will, and forced to serve as a helpless, obedient sex slave - the most valuable commodity in the world, as Andrew had made clear several days ago.

"You're very special," Dr. Reilly went on. "You should be very proud. As I explained the other day, we have had subjects undergoing the transformation for quite some time. They have all been voluntary subjects so far, men and women perfecting their physique and returning to a state of youthfulness - Tiffany, for example, is 48 years old, and Andrew is 57. I suppose you could say it's a perk of working for the company. We have also had a handful of males who have transformed into females, all on a voluntary basis so far - men who were experiencing gender dysphoria who eagerly underwent the transformation into women and are now happily living as one. Like Jennifer.

"Phase 2 testing - producing a potent semen addiction - has been a bit more... complicated. We began with willing volunteers - straight women and homosexual men, who were already attracted to men - with spectacular results, but of course that was not nearly as important as testing it on unwilling test subjects. That was where the rubber met the road, so to speak. We began with unsuspecting test subjects, though still those who were already attracted to men, once again with spectacular results. It was only recently that we made the jump to those who are not attracted to men at all - to heterosexual men and homosexual women - and, although these subjects prove to be very unhappy about the change, the results have been quite compelling.

"You, however, brought it all together, proving our ability to fulfill our objective of transforming even an unwilling, unsuspecting straight male into not just a sexy young woman with a smoking hot body, but a..." She paused, as if trying to find the right wording. "Well, forgive me for being crude, but 'cum-crazed slut' is the terminology our investors have used."

I shook my head, refusing to accept this, as if that would make this any less real.

"As for the booster shot, you'll need the extra..." She paused, once again as if trying to find the right word. "... eagerness that this shot will give you for our investors. For one thing, there's three of them" - oh, God, I thought, there's three of them? - "and, from what I understand, they can be quite demanding.

"You'll like them," Dr. Reilly continued. "You're a very lucky girl. All three of them are hot - very hot - tall, handsome, and in very good shape. Each of them are what we girls would describe as a hunk, a stud, in every definition of the word. Our treatments have given them the kind of body that I believe you had initially sought - and the sexual appetites and stamina of an 18-year-old."

"But...," I whimpered pitifully, breathing hard, still struggling to come to terms with her revelation, "... you said... this would be my... last day here..."

"It is your last day here," Dr. Reilly answered, just as cheerfully as ever. "We have them staying in a penthouse suite in the city. You will be joining them later today."

I suddenly felt like I was very far away, like my spirit was leaving my body. I was in a state of utter disbelief, staring into space.

"And don't worry about your apartment and your belongings," Dr. Reilly said. "We've taken care of everything. Your lease has been satisfied, and all your possessions are now in storage." She paused, her smile widening. "I don't believe anyone will be noticing your absence. It will be like you never existed."

There was a knock on the door, and then it opened, and a stunningly attractive woman I had never met before walked into the room. She had long black hair and glasses and was smartly dressed in a black miniskirt and white blouse that clung tightly to the bulge of her breasts, with the top buttons undone to reveal her ample cleavage. If I still had a penis, it would have been hard as a rock at the sight of her. She was carrying a bag in one hand, and in the other hand, she was holding something hung on a clothes hanger, just like Vanessa had done yesterday when she brought me the white dress and lingerie. I recognized it immediately: it was a pink strapless corset teddy with strings tied at the sides and a distinctive ribbon at the hip, and I could also see the fluffy white tail where the butt would be - a sexy Playboy Bunny uniform.

"This is Amberly," Dr. Reilly said. "She is currently serving as Executive Assistant for our investors. She will help you get acclimated to your new role."

"My clients will expect you to look your very best at all times," Amberly was saying as she set the teddy on the bed next to me and began taking items out of the bag: a pair of sheer pantyhose, a white collar with a black bowtie, white cuffs, and - of course - the prominent pink bunny ears which matched the rest of the outfit. "For now, they would like this to be your standard uniform, though of course they have lots of other things for you to wear as well..." She paused and looked at me pleasantly, before going on, "... though you probably won't be wearing any of it for very long."

I didn't even bother to object. I knew there was no use. I was completely at their mercy and we all knew it. There was nothing to do but accept the inevitable.

"You, of course, will need to do anything they tell you to, without question," Amberly went on. "We'll need to get you up to speed very quickly on several different things - how to put on your own make-up and style your own hair, how to give massages properly, how to dance, and - of course - all the different ways there are to satisfy and please a man." She picked up the pink teddy and showed me what was printed on the ribbon: Erica. "You'll need a new name, so this is what we will be calling you from now on."

She set it down again. "For now, I'll help you get ready. My clients are very, very eager to meet you."

She paused, then added, as if it was an inconsequential afterthought, "They couldn't decide which one would get the privilege of trying you out first, so the three of them have decided to do it at the same time."

I gulped.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading this far and for all those who have provided feedback. Erica will return in "What Have They Done to Me? Part 2."