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This one trio of men always caught my eye. They wore colorful tight bikini shorts that really made their asses stand out. ‘Dude!’ I’d say to myself. ‘You are one horny bi-sexual mother fucker.’ One afternoon the men were looking particularly stunning. So I gave them a longer looking over than usual as they made their way through the park. I was so into watching them I never noticed that someone had sat down next to me until he introduced himself. ‘Hi!’ he began, extending his hand toward me. ‘I’m Hank.’ Feeling a little embarressed I returned the handshake. ‘Nice to meet you’ I replied. (‘Oh shit! How much did he see?) To make matters worse this guy was ripped. He could have pounded the shit outta me right there. Turns out there was nothing to be ashamed of. As we sat and chatted the late afternoon away we’d both admire the same group of joggers as they went by, both the women AND the men. As I listened to Hank’s bullshit stories I started to really admire his looks. Hank had. Some, including myself, tried covertly to resist and act obstinately to the deliberate training that was forcing us into that female mould butbeatings and whippings gradually broke any resistance. For my part, Ipretended to cooperate with them. I would follow their training exactly,but each night in the hut I would force myself to think as a man.We were all kept completely naked. Initially we were all humiliated. Theeffect of the spell and its implications on us was to be in our eyes allthe time. Yet, as the months went on, perhaps with the intensivetraining, I developed a sort of fascination with my new body, itsdistinctive hourglass shape and the sinuous curved line of my body, andhow its curves would be exaggerated if I lay on the floor on my side oron my front.I became more intrigued by my breasts especially, the way they changedshape from just standing upright, to lying on my back. If I was on allfours, they would hang from my chest like ripe fruit.One day, as I had dreaded, it.
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