Aurelia Academy for Femboys Ch. 01

{All persons engaging in adult activity are eighteen years of age or older}

{This story focuses primarily on mtf transformation and sex between m and trans fem. If this troubles you, please choose a different story}

Who I am now, I would not change for any reason or thing, but that is not how I felt when it all began. Whether this position is of my own will or if it should be attributed to the indoctrination which I was subjected to, I may never truly know.

Three years ago...

I'm poised to sign the agreement, with no real inkling of what will happen to me once I do, but, I'm desperate.

How did I get here? My family needs money. My parents' house and car are underwater. Dad was hurt on his construction job and received very little compensation for his injury. Mom works two jobs just to buy groceries and to keep the lights on. They need help. My little sister cries a lot because she knows how rough things are in a way that intuitive children are able to sense. I'm her big brother; having just graduated from high school and turned eighteen, with more wisdom than many my age. INFJ, Virgo, all of that.

I had been searching on the Web for options: ways to earn significant cash fairly quickly, legal or at least in a gray area which would not lead to hard criminality, when I stumbled, figuratively, upon the advertisement:

- The Aurelia Academy for young men -

Acceptance pays $100,000 to the applicant's family.

Successful completion of all training, and subsequent graduation by the applicant will pay an additional $400,000 to the applicant's family.

The rigors of our institution can be harsh, but the rewards are high.

All applicants must meet the following criteria:

1. Biological male

2. 18 - 19 years of age

3. Weight: no greater than 150 pounds.

4. Height: no greater than 5 ft, 10 in.

5. Lean, athletic build

6. At least moderately pleasing facial features

7. No significant health concerns

8. A level of intelligence, both practical, and emotional, is required.

9. Applicant will undergo a psychological evaluation to determine suitability for enrollment.

Apply now! Class size is limited.

* * *

I flipped the pen a little in my hand.

I had passed the psychological evaluation.

The woman, Ava, I think she said her name was, watched me intently. "Here, let me show you," she stated as she rotated her laptop so that I could see the financial information on the screen. "As soon as you sign, we will wire the money to your parents, and you can call them to verify that it has been received. This IS real," she emphasized. "The money is real, but, once you sign, you are ours, and there is no turning back... Read the fine print again if you like, but please decide. We have a dozen or so suitable applicants to process."

I double checked the fine print:

- By signing, you agree that the Academy's administrators will be granted power of attorney for you, in all matters both legal and medical, until graduation, at which time this power may or may not be renegotiated, or, be reassigned to other oversight.

- You will not be placed in mortal danger, nor will any other person be placed in mortal danger as an intended result of any action which the Academy might initiate on your behalf.

- You will be highly valued upon graduation; likely beyond your current expectations.

- You accept that you will undergo a degree of body modification; similar to all of the other young men in your class.

- Upon successful graduation, you will enter into an arranged marriage. Since you will be marrying into wealth, a strict prenuptial agreement will be enacted prior to the marriage. The marriage will be relatively private and guarded.

- If the marriage fails during the first ten years, and you are determined to be at fault, for reasons such as failure to provide sexual and emotional intimacy to your spouse, you will be judged to be in violation of the terms of this agreement.

- If you renege on this acceptance agreement in any way prior to, or after, graduation, the Academy will use all legal means to recover any money which has been distributed to your family, and any unpaid amount will become forfeit.

- You will not be allowed to possess or use a phone once you have arrived at our facility to begin your training. Any emergency exception to this rule which may be granted, will be supervised by Academy staff.

I wasn't sure about the "body modification" thing, but I figured it might be tattoos or piercings, or maybe I would have to lift weights and maintain a certain physique. My young male brain even fantasized about the school being run by a bunch of dominatrixes, grooming us to become a boy-toy to some wealthy older woman who might want that sort of lifestyle. I had only ever touched a real pussy once, after Senior prom, said pussy belonging to my girlfriend, Sarah. I didn't wash my right hand for two days after that night. We broke up amicably not long after high school graduation - she was off to a good college, and here I was, trying to save my family from financial ruin.

Also, an arranged marriage didn't seem all that bad. I mean... I would be having sex at least, and even if it was with an older woman, it was still a win.

I glanced at Ava one more time, and then, with a soft sigh of uncertainty, I signed the agreement.

What I did not know at the time was that the Aurelia Academy for young men was, in actuality, the Aurelia Academy for femboys. I was now on a path toward an entirely different future life than I could ever have imagined.

* * *

Aurelia Academy was akin to a small city in some ways. The main building was surrounded by several smaller structures, which were in turn surrounded by wide swathes of untamed forest. Access to the grounds was via a single service road. There was also a helipad for extreme emergencies. We were somewhere in the EU, but we never knew precisely where, until much later, when it did not matter.

There were a dozen of us in my class, if that is a proper term for what we were as a small group of youthful males entering this unknown place. Twelve was a sufficient number for several social dynamics to develop over time, but at the moment, none of us knew any other. In our group, we were one black, two Asians, and the rest were various shades of white.

I would learn gradually, the true purpose behind our being here, but for now, everything was a mystery.

The place was a fortress, honestly, and only as time moved forward would I become aware of the elaborate medical facilities and other supporting functions which surrounded us, all focused singularly upon the purpose of the Academy. Aurelia was going to transform us into something rare, exquisite in the eyes of some, and highly desired by those with a certain proclivity.

On my second day, I was escorted, alone, to a room, and instructed to enter, which I did. The two guards who had accompanied me positioned themselves just outside the door as I closed it behind me.

"Welcome," a pleasant, yet seductive feminine voice greeted me.

I turned to see one of the most beautiful women whom I have ever beheld sitting in a single wooden chair in the center of the room. There was only the chair, her, and me. She was dressed in a crisp white blouse, sleeves rolled up, and with the top few buttons open to reveal a stunning cleavage. Her navel was exposed as she shifted in the chair. Her short leather skirt was a deep dark red. It was the kind that fastens with snaps, or buttons, like a wrap. Open the fasteners and the skirt drops to the floor.

"Go ahead and kneel on the floor, a little in front of me. Get close. I want you to see," she said enticingly.

There was no need for her to instruct me twice, as she likely already knew from having reviewed my psychological profile. I knelt down in front of her; close enough that I could easily reach out and touch her knee, or, something more intimate. Currently, her legs were crossed gracefully, concealing the secret place between her thighs. She studied me. I met her gaze. She shifted in the chair, uncrossing her legs and spreading them apart while at the same time she drew her skirt upward with her fingertips; her nails long, sharp, and black as night. She wore no underwear. I could not help but stare directly at her pussy. It was beautiful, compelling, a siren's call drawing me in, making me want her, perhaps more than life itself. She ran a finger along her slit and I swear I could see it glisten with her moisture.

"Do you like what you see? Do you want to touch me? Lick me? Maybe even fuck me?" she purred seductively. She already knew the answer.

"I mean, yes... all of those things," I responded, my voice laden with desire.

I never saw it coming. She acted so quickly, and I believe it likely that she used nearly all of her strength as she struck my face with her open hand. She slapped me so forcefully that my head jerked to the side and I nearly fell against the floor before regaining my balance upon my knees. Her handprint bloomed a dark red upon my cheek. It felt as if one side of my face was on fire.

"So disappointing. Get out. The guards will escort you back to your room," she said coldly.

"What does she want from me?" I mused on the return trip to my room.

A similar thing occurred several more times over the next few days, with a different woman in the chair each time; however, after the first instance, the guards came into the room along with me, and remained there while I was made to drop my pants and boxers so that the woman could observe my dick to judge by my reaction to her seductive exposure and teasing whether I desired her, wanted her, was drawn like a fly into a spider's web by the lure of her pussy. My dick grew hard each time, and each time I was slapped and curtly dismissed with harsh words informing me how disappointing I was, and that I needed to orient myself properly.

It was roughly one week after the dozen of us arrived at the Institute when they put a powerful drug into our midday meal, which rendered all of us unconscious. We were then transported to the on-site surgical center where, under general anesthesia, they performed a bilateral orchiectomy(the removal of both testicles) upon each of us. This was the first significant step toward our transformation into femboys, trans girls, whatever flavor of descriptive name you prefer. No more testosterone ruining our face and form. They would alter us with female hormones, laser hair removal treatments, facial and vocal cord surgery guided by AI analysis, and then instruct us how to speak and act as women do. Altering our psychology, indoctrinating us to have no interest in pussy, and to want cock, to make us think as most women do, would occur right along with the progression of our physical transformation. An additional thing they did to us, which you may find cruel, but had a profound effect upon our self-perception, was to surgically create a small slit at the base of our penis. They then severed the urethra from its normal path to the end of the penis and sutured the shorter end (that which exits the bladder) to the flesh at the edges of the slit they had created. The result being that when we urinated, we would need to sit down or squat, to pee, much as a woman does. Secondarily, if we were to have a rare orgasm (we still had a prostate but it would become much smaller in the absence of testosterone), our semen would leak or squirt gently forth from this slit. Our tiny prostate would be the focus of our pleasure when we received a man's cock in our ass.

All of the clothing that we had brought with us was taken away and replaced with a bunch of stuff that leaned pretty clearly toward being feminine. They gave us jumpsuits made from soft cotton in beige, light yellow, and a sort of washed-out looking red. Our new underwear was more like feminine panties than male shorts in that they were cut differently and there was no flap or opening as is typically present in men's underwear. We received new footwear: two pairs of sneakers and a pair of sandals, and these also were in styles and colors typical for women's shoes.

I seem to be getting a little ahead of myself here. I will offer this much before attempting to return to a more chronological order of this account of the progression of our transformation and indoctrination. By the time we "graduated", a little more than three years after this first surgery, it was nearly impossible to discern that any one of us was anything other than a beautiful young woman, unless you were to see us naked and peer between our legs to see the small hairless penis, sans testicles, which dangled there. For some though, this was the entire point.

The morning after the removal of our testicles, a middle aged woman who identified herself as one of the surgeons who had performed the operation upon four of us, met with the dozen of us as a group, to provide some illumination regarding what had been done, and why. Our reactions were as one might expect, and they essentially left us alone for a week afterward, in our anger, to heal physically, and to allow the first nascent glimmers of acceptance to form in our thoughts. But, they added female hormones to all of our meals. Estrogen would begin its work upon us now, unfettered and free.

The female hormones added to our food were supplemented with additional intramuscular injections of estrogen every few days.

We engaged in physical fitness activities: indoor jogging, yoga, volleyball - 3 teams of 4 each, so one team could rest while the other two played against each other.

Next, they began to show pornographic videos on the large screens built into the walls and ceilings of each of our rooms. The vids ran for 16 hours a day; off only to allow us to rest and to sleep. If we were in our rooms, and it wasn't sleep time, the vids were on, pervasive and not easily ignored. At first these vids showed men fucking women from a male point of view. Cocks entering pussies. Blowjobs received; seen by a man, who watched a woman fellate his penis, and then, subsequently, swallow his load. Gradually, the context of the vids changed. Fucking and blowjobs were shown from a woman's point of view. Watching as a man thrust his hot hard cock between your legs and inside your body. Delicate hands and fingers with exquisitely manicured nails stroking a dick and then a lipsticked mouth descending to take a cock inside your warm wet mouth and throat. There were the "hypno-vids", the ones which supposedly included subliminal messaging which would reorient you to want dick. "You want to be her. See how much fun it is to be a beautiful girl and to suck cock and get fucked." Of course these did not work, alone, but they opened one's mind just a little.

Vids of vaginal intercourse were gradually replaced by women engaging in anal sex with an attractive man. The vids made it quite clear that despite initial reluctance, the women greatly enjoyed this kind of sex, and they loved giving their man what he deeply desired. Whether true or an illusion, the effect was real.

That's when they started using pharmaceuticals on us. Individually, we were staged in a small medical bay, stripped naked, and strapped into a bed with a video screen just above us, such that we could see anything shown upon it quite closely. Our arms and legs were restrained "for our protection" and an IV was inserted into our arm. A woman's pussy was shown on screen, and then the woman's slender fingers spread her labia apart slowly, allowing a glimpse within. When our dick showed arousal from watching this display, a drug was released into the IV which caused a rapid onset of dizziness and nausea. The drug was insufficient to cause vomiting, but it was extremely unpleasant nonetheless. The display went dark briefly as the nausea-inducing drug port was closed, and then a large erect cock was shown on screen. A woman's hand was shown reaching for the cock and then slowly, lovingly, beginning to stroke it up and down. Now, a different drug was released into the IV, a cocktail of drugs really, designed to induce feelings of euphoria and fulfillment.

This routine occurred day after day after day after day. Pussy makes you nauseous. Cock makes you happy and content. You want cock. Gradually, the cock display is altered from just delicate fingers stroking to a female POV vid of a girl jerking a cock eagerly, ready to take her man's load in her mouth and on her face, and then you see the semen erupt from the tip in multiple spurts, some of which disappear, presumably inside your mouth, while others spray onto your face and eyelids. Vids for now, but, this will change eventually.

Back in our rooms, the endless display of beautiful girls sucking cock and taking loads in their mouths, then showing the cum on their tongues before swallowing happily, continues. Only in sleep are we free of the relentless messaging. Soon, even our dreams provide no respite. I start to dream of giving blowjobs and being fucked in my ass by a beautiful hard throbbing dick. I feel a deep sense of fulfillment when I know its owner is ejaculating forcefully inside me. When I wake, the underside of my penis is slick with a small amount of semen. I realize that I just had a wet dream; dreaming of being fucked by a man.

We are taken to a salon in one of the buildings adjacent to the main facility where they style our hair into a cute short punk pixie; very feminine. We keep our natural color for now, but they tell us that AI will determine what our future style and color will be - that which best complements our eye color and skin tone, and the shape of our face. My natural hair color is a light to medium brown and my eyes are hazel green.

We undergo weeks of laser treatments to eliminate all facial and body hair; and I mean all of it, everywhere. They even sculpt our eyebrows to a feminine shape and density. My soft youthful skin is completely smooth and hairless now; only my lashes, brows, and the hair on my head remain.

All of us are displaying a more feminine shape and form now; our waists have become more narrow, hips and bottoms have blossomed with the migration of healthy fat within our bodies. We are developing breasts. The nipples have grown in diameter and protrusion. I'm one of the more gifted ones in that regard. I have relaxed, bell-shaped breasts which droop a bit and jiggle when I move around without any form-fitting clothing to confine them. I have lost most of the muscle mass from my upper body - my arms and shoulders seem overly slender and weak-looking to me now. It's one thing to look at a natural, beautiful woman, but it is something else to see your own body change so significantly from what it once was. Right now, I feel like some kind of freak when I look in the mirror. In time, this perspective will change.

We are provided with nutritious, carefully curated food for all of our meals, with estrogen of course. One day, after yoga and lunch, upon returning to our rooms, we discover that each of us has been provided with a popular new handheld gaming device. It has been loaded with a few cutesy, cozy games in which the only option is to play as a female protagonist.

The individual sessions with two guards and a woman in a room, resume. This time, the woman is dressed in male clothing, standing, and clearly sporting some kind of strap-on or phallic attachment behind the zipper of her male trousers. Again, I'm instructed to kneel, close, directly in front of her. I recognize her as one of the women who enticed me previously with her pussy. The new purpose is to help us gain a comfortable familiarity with opening a man's belt and zipper, extracting his penis from whatever underclothing he may be wearing, and then lavishing our attention on said penis; touching, fondling, stroking, and ultimately performing fellatio upon our man. It's a strap-on and not real, and a woman is wearing it, but they are leading us inexorably toward the goal. You know where this all will lead. I know that you do.

Moving forward in time, facial surgeries are performed. Our noses are reshaped to be smaller, some pert and upturned, others princess-sharp, others cute as a button. In most cases it is a restoration to what would have been, had our faces never been reshaped by testosterone. Chin reduction is performed on some of us. AI provides the map which the expert surgeons execute flawlessly. This is a suitable time to perform vocal cord surgery and reduction - all of us will be on liquid diets for a while until our throats can heal. Each of us looks like we might have been in a car accident or had the shit beaten out of us in a fist fight.

Eventually, the bandages are removed and I am able to see myself in a mirror. I'm stunned. "Oh my god, I'm pretty!" I hear myself exclaim rather weakly. My voice sounds scratchy from disuse, but I definitely sound like I did back when I was maybe 12 or 13 years old; just more mature. Back in my room, I turn my face this way and that way, studying my changed appearance. I definitely look like a girl now. After a time, I flop onto my bed and bury my new face in my pillow. The tears come quickly and I let them carry me to sleep.

Our formal college-level instruction begins, with a curriculum focused on history, geography/geopolitics, and psychology. They want us to understand the world, and people. We need to develop a maturity of thought and understanding beyond our youthful age.

It happens more or less spontaneously; gradually at first, but then it gains traction rather quickly: In both formal discussion with our professors and in casual conversation with each other, we start using "she" and "her" with regard to each other. It becomes, "Just ask her." Or, "When did she say that?" The staff notice, and are quite pleased by what they see as a significant milestone in our progression toward becoming who they intend for us to be.

The next morning is a Saturday, which means no school; however, we are summoned to a classroom immediately after breakfast anyway. Here, we are instructed that we need to choose new feminine names. These names will become our legal names going forward once all of the required documents have been processed and recorded. Everything will show our sex as being "F". By now, we all understand what is being done to us, and what our future paths will be. We are being remade, transformed, educated, and groomed to become intelligent, graceful, desirable young women, but with a dick, for a very specific clientele. There are wealthy powerful men in the world who desire what we are, or will soon be. When our transformation is complete, each of us will be wed as a woman to one of these powerful men. We will live as their obedient wife, providing charm, wit, intimacy, sex, and perhaps a kind of love. These men provide the vast sums of money needed to fund the Institute, and they expect a proper return on their investment. They want a trophy wife for the eyes of the world to see from afar, while in a more private reality we will be something different altogether - their pretty little femboy anal slut who they can fuck the brains out of every night.

I'm Zoe now. I rather like the name.

Moving forward in time once more, we learn proper hair-care and skin-care regimens as well as how to apply makeup to enhance our appearance. The goal is to achieve a somewhat understated, elegant look. We're not intended to look or act like a bimbo with bubblegum pink fake lips. They teach us feminine mannerisms; how to walk, how to talk; to discreetly avoid someone's gaze if we notice them staring at us. We need to sit with our legs crossed modestly, one over the other. We wear special compression panties with a reinforced front panel such that our penis is held upright, flat and tight against our groin. Our lack of testicles means we do not need to tuck and tape or bend our dicks into unnatural positions for our panty-clad crotch to appear feminine. We can even wear tight jeans and look entirely like a woman between our legs. Yoga pants, bikinis, and other sheer or flimsy skin-tight clothing do present an issue with concealment, so we avoid those things for the most part. It's practice for our future lives when we will live outside of the protective environment of the Academy. Things like fluffing our hair from our shoulders or checking our lipstick slowly become second nature.

Our clothing is now entirely feminine and we are gradually introduced to more slinky, sexy outfits and dresses. We learn how to put on pantyhose, or stockings with a garter belt, to avoid runners. Walking naturally in high-heel shoes is a mandatory skill. We practice it nearly every day. It doesn't matter if our feet hurt. What matters is how we look when we wear them.

I get my ears pierced - triple lobe style. I will probably do a constellation eventually(all up along the outer edge of both of my ears). My hair has grown to a length between my chin and shoulders. I get it styled in the Academy salon regularly now. There are streaks of light brown and dark blonde frosted in with my overall natural medium brown. If I had to describe my hair with words, I would say it is kind of wavy fluffy but not curly, and gives me a sort of "just got out of bed" look, pretty much all of the time.

I get my nails done regularly now too, though nothing too glamorous - just gel and fairly short, though definitely pointed and feminine; usually a light pink or orange. They instruct us to never underestimate the seductive power of an elegant feminine hand; that men go nuts when they see carefully manicured feminine fingers wrapped around their dick, and that we should brush our nails gently against our lover's shaft as well as graze the tips beneath his balls. A skillful handjob can literally make a man beg you to let him cum.

Our formal education continues as does our psychological and sexual indoctrination. They inform us that each of us has been matched to our future husband based on his preferences, and they begin to teach us additional language skills. I'm going to be living on a private island in the Caribbean, so I am trying to learn both Spanish and French in addition to my native English.

It's time for interaction with real men; no more women posing in male roles, no more strap-ons or artificial dicks. The men have been carefully screened by the Academy. They understand their role and they know our nature. They have all been tested for any STDs or other health concerns - they are clean and healthy. They have all agreed to have their pubic hair trimmed short. A well-groomed dick will be much more appealing to us to suck on, or to take up our ass, without tangles of hair to interfere with things. Of course we have learned how to cleanse and prepare ourselves for anal sex. It's a routine that each of us will perform nearly every day for the rest of our lives, typically at night before bed. Cleanse both inside and out and apply a little lube to our anal opening and we are good to go.

I'm going to let you imagine my first clumsy attempt at performing a blowjob on a man, my first time taking a load of semen in my mouth and throat and experiencing the taste and texture of it, my first time taking a cock up my ass and the surprise I felt upon realizing that it actually felt really fucking good once he was in and started to thrust gently inside me. I knew at that moment that I had become exactly what they wanted me to be.

These sessions with various men continue for a month or so, and I learn more with each coupling. The men tell me how pretty I am and that they would be happy to fuck me any time I want. I enjoy being the focus of their desire.

At some point it hits me. I like having a dick inside me, and I will never be happy or complete again without it. When I am giving a blowjob, my little femdick is so hard, and I have this overwhelming feeling of well-being, like I am exactly where I should be, doing exactly what I should be doing - on my knees, sucking a man's dick. I do not have the words to describe it properly. I wish I did.

* * *

Ten of us graduate and are ready for delivery to our arranged husbands. The other two ultimately rebel and refuse to take real cock. I'm a little afraid for them honestly - they have been changed irrevocably, and all of the money that would have been paid to their loved ones to support them and to help them to flourish, will be denied. I don't know what their future will be like(the two who refused cock), but it was their choice. Thinking back on it now, I suspect that the psychological evaluations we underwent to decide whether we would be accepted into Aurelia had been designed to poke and prod at our innermost selves. Peek inside the mask we all wear to find what secret desires might be hidden there; things we would normally never allow to become anything more than a veiled fantasy which we would then feel guilty for imagining.

$400,000 dollars is sent to my family in the US, along with an official looking letter from the Board of Aurelia, informing my family that I have graduated successfully, and that I have been placed on an extended assignment which will not allow for me to have any contact with them for an indeterminate period of time.

* * *

I'm currently on a very long flight west, across the Atlantic, to a destination in Florida. Aurelia is in my past now, though the legal bindings of my agreement with them will remain in effect for a period of ten years. When I say that Aurelia is in my past, I refer to my actual presence within the Academy. What they have transformed me to be, now, can never be left behind. I glance across the aisle (in first class) at a pretty young woman sitting there. I do not desire her. She cannot provide me with what I want, but she can take it away, and that makes her a competitor. I understand now why women can be so catty toward each other.

I recline my seat a little with my arms kind of across my tits(I still find it to be a bit of an odd sensation) and close my eyes. I let my thoughts meander - things I know, and things which might be. My mind is kind of like that - I play out all kinds of scenarios before they even happen - that way I'm prepared for just about anything.

My husband-to-be is 41 years old, so 20 years older than me. An age gap for sure, but I'm glad that it is not more than it is. His first name is Julian. His height is listed as just barely over six feet tall, so not quite four inches taller than me. He is some really high-level executive at a big pharmaceutical and bio-research company, with a lot of patents to his name. On top of that, he comes from old wealth. He owns his own little island in the Caribbean. Yes, he owns a fucking island! I'm feeling fortunate at the moment, but we'll see how many bugs there are. I'm already imagining myself lounging at poolside in a thong with my tits out, getting them nice and tanned. The island is where we will be married and where I will spend most of my time with him. In his pics, he is modestly handsome in a rugged kind of way, fit and healthy-looking with close-cut salt-and-pepper hair on his head along with what looks like maybe a two-day beard(but his neck is clean shaven). He has intelligent gray eyes and I actually feel like I can see him looking right at me in one of his close-up pics. I have a phone again, thank god, but I'm not allowed to have any social media presence whatsoever - zero. I'm ok with that. I was never one to post pics of my food or aspects of my private life anyway.

I shift in my seat, changing which leg is crossed over the other. I'm wearing some comfy off-white denim jeans with a few intentional rips in the fabric along with some fairly expensive mid-height white leather heels with ankle straps. When I'm wearing my special panties, it still surprises me how much it looks like I have nothing between my legs. Anyone who happened to glance there, intentionally or not, would think, "Yep, that's a vagina hiding under there," and then just move along. I doze off for a little while. When my flight lands in Florida, I will be met by a driver and a car. The driver will then take me to the coast where I will be met by a pilot and a seaplane. The pilot and the plane will then deliver me to Julian on his island.

So much water, and so blue. It's beautiful. The island is a green oasis in this azure paradise. The plane comes to a gentle stop alongside a well-maintained wooden dock. A few people await us. Julian is among them. My pilot helps me to disembark. His hands are wrapped around my left arm rather tightly, ensuring that I do not slip or fall as I step from the gently bobbing plane. I'm literally handed off to Julian, who practically lifts me from the plane's pontoon and then sets my heels on the surface of the dock. There's still a little rocking motion, but much less than there was on the plane.

I look at Julian and he looks at me. A hint of a smile plays at his lips before he greets me in a pleasant masculine voice, "I'm very glad that you are here, Zoe. I have been anxious to meet you."

His staff help me get settled in a small bedroom(a temporary thing) along with my three pieces of luggage, which contain pretty much everything I own in the world right now - mostly clothes, shoes, toiletries, my supply of estrogen, and an assortment of makeup. It's soon time for our first dinner together at Julian's Villa, as well as our first opportunity for intimate conversation. The staff have provided everything we might wish for, and now we are alone, with our meal, and with each other.

I meet Julian's gaze. "You first?" I offer deferentially, maybe with the merest hint of playfulness in my voice. He is the one in a position of power here, unquestionably. All I have is me.

"I won't apologize for what I want, or for having the means to obtain it," he begins. "You may feel that I will see you as merely an object for my own gratification. While it's true that I am drawn to your rare and special nature, I will care for you, Zoe, and I believe that we could have a great deal of fun together."

"I would like to try to make it work, to make you happy. When I'm with you, in bed, it will be real, something I want."

"To us then," he says. Together, we toast.

Almost as an afterthought, or perhaps his timing is calculated, he adds, "Now that you are here with me, from time to time, I will host parties here on the island, with others like us. That's the ticket - someone like me brings someone like you, and we share. Do you understand?" He watches me.

"If it's what you want, then I'm ok with it," I tell him. I mean, what else am I going to say, but if I'm honest, I kind of like being a bit of a slut - I mean, once things got going with those multiple men just before my graduation from Aurelia, it was pretty fucking awesome. I'm not sure if it is entirely by design, but it would not surprise me if it was - it takes a lot to make me have an actual orgasm, and I can only have one maybe every few days. My small prostate and the estrogen in my body limit production and response. When I have a nice hard dick inside me, stretching me and stimulating my flesh as well as rubbing against my prostate, it drives me a little crazy, it feels so good. Then it keeps on feeling good. The pleasureful sensations increase until I'm panting and nearly begging for an orgasm that will not come, at least not from one man fucking me, and not at all if I have had an orgasm recently. So, I'm made for prolonged fucking, much more so than any one man taking me can provide. He's soon finished, for a while, and I still want more.

"Excellent," Julian responds.

* * *

Two days later I am officially wed to Julian in a small private ceremony on his island. The proper officials and witnesses perform their roles with a high degree of polish and efficiency. I'm certain that they have been well paid for their services and for their discretion. All of the staff who live and work at the Villa are in attendance, except for the security team who need to perform their jobs 24/7. Most know of Julian's uncommon sexual proclivity, but money buys loyalty and silence. The world beyond this island will know only that Julian has acquired a new very pretty young green-eyed wife.

It is our wedding night. I have nearly finished preparing myself. There is a bidet in the en suite and I absolutely love it! My final act before returning to our bed is to apply a dollop of KY to my anal opening to ensure easy entry. Julian requested that I wear the white stockings and garter belt which I had worn to our wedding, to bed tonight. I can barely discern my dress and heels on the floor as I return from the en suite. He is already in bed, nude, waiting for me. Though I cannot see his eyes in the dim lighting, I know he is watching me as I come to him.

I slip into bed and he draws me to him. I lay my head against his chest and after a moment of stillness, I move my hand slowly downward along his warm flesh. I can feel the definition of his muscles and the coarseness of his body hair as my touch wanders lower. He draws a sudden sharp breath as I wrap my hand around his dick and begin to stroke it. I'm not sure what other life I may have had if not for Aurelia, but in this moment, with my hand wrapped around Julian's dick, knowing he will soon be fucking me, I don't care. This is who I am now, and this is what I need and want. He tips my face toward his and places a single tentative kiss against the corner of my mouth. "Mm," I respond, and then I shift the direction of my gaze downward to where I'm stroking him. I make a move as if to slide down to take him in my mouth, but he whispers, "Not now, not this first time." I nod against his chest and then turn so that my back is to him, snuggling my soft round feminine-shaped ass against his groin. He reaches down to part my ass cheeks and to guide himself to my lubricated opening. I shift and squirm a little to help him, and then he's in. It's my turn to gasp softly as I feel him fill me. He slides his hands gently along my hips and tapered waist, then upward and forward until he finds my tits. He cups one in each hand and then holds me like that, pulling my back tight against his chest as he starts to thrust inside me. The pleasure begins slowly for me, but then quickens as Julian's thrusting becomes more urgent. I feel like my brain short-circuits or something when I'm being fucked like this. All I can think of is sex, how much I want it, how good it feels, how desperate I am to cum, even though it's something rare for me. I'm actively trying to push back against Julian now, trying to wiggle and arch my ass so I can take him deeper. This is when I start thinking of him being close to cumming inside me, and that just makes me more hot for him. I reach down and back with one arm, the one which isn't pinned against the bed, to grab his muscled hip. My pink pointed fingernails dig into his skin as I try to pull him deeper inside me. I can feel his balls slapping against me as he starts to lose it, He's so close now, I know it. Another few thrusts and it happens. I can tell from the way I feel him convulsing as the waves of pleasure wrack his groin. He tells me later he nearly lost his mind, it was so intense. For now, I feel his dick twitching inside my ass as he unloads his cum. I'm happy to receive it.

End chapter one