Chapter 2

I spent four hours being pierced by burning needles this morning, and now my face is red and blotchy. I had no idea that my lips could be so sensitive. And the electrologist ('call me Carla') cheerfully said that she would be back tomorrow. Wonderful.

I decided I might as well play along, at least until I get my health back. It took over two hours to clean the kitchen, but I was pretty proud of the results. It felt so good to turn on the dishwasher with a full load of dishes, a warm, fuzzy, and satisfied feeling washed over me when it started.

In fact, it felt so good that I just sat down by the dishwasher for a few minutes, feeling its warm, soothing hum deep inside.

But then, it was time for laundry. Fortunately, I had my own washer-dryer, for I still didn't have enough strength to leave the apartment without overdoing it and getting sick. About all I could manage was to throw out the trash. Anything more and I would be puking my guts out.

Anyway, I gathered all the clothes, separated the whites, and started my first load of laundry.

Oh.

The gentle whooshing and rocking of the warm machine was so comforting. I could just stay there all day long.

But Julia had mentioned vacuuming specifically and had actually brought a new machine for me to use. It took a couple more hours to pick up the place and put everything back where it was supposed to be; you know, file papers and whatnot.

All things considered, it's a good thing that I was unemployed, laid off in a workforce reduction over a year ago. My parents had left me a modest inheritance (I am an only child), so if I was careful I figured I could just bide my time until the economy got better. Sometimes I would volunteer for medical studies to supplement my income.

So once the papers from my last job were filed away, I was finally ready to vacuum up the place. I plugged the vacuum cleaner into an outlet and turned it on.

Oh my god.

Somehow the vibrations of the machine entered directly into my body. My skin purred, my nipples tingled, and my crotch throbbed. I put a hand down between my legs, pressed, and squeezed my legs together. Oh man, that felt good. My other hand reached up and pinched my nipples through my shirt. My breasts, still flat, were warm and sensitive.

I sank down to my knees next to the vacuum cleaner which was still whirring away, pinching and stroking. I pulled my pants down and reached inside. My briefs (I was wearing men's briefs) were soaked in the crotch, I stroked my new clitoris gently, gasping at how sensitive it was. I rolled onto the floor, stroking and pinching and then...

I orgasmed.

In the process, I bumped the vacuum cleaner which teetered over and gently fell on top of me. The orgasm flowed through me, causing every tendon to vibrate. It was wonderful and left me moaning in pleasure.

Gradually, the throbbing and tickling abated and I was able to stand up and actually get around to vacuuming the place.

But just as soon as it was finished I dove into bed and masturbated again.

"Thunk, thunk".

I now had to use the box three times a day. And each time it was doing stuff to me, pumping things inside of me. What? Julia wouldn't say.

My breasts were getting more and more sensitive and puffy. They would hurt horribly if I accidentally bumped them while cleaning, or even if I just jiggled them a little.

Hormones, I figured. Turning me into a woman. More of a woman, anyway.

"I'm bored," I said. "Could you get me a newspaper? I don't even know what day it is."

"It's Wednesday," Julia responded. "I could. Get you something to read, I mean. But it's not really in my job description."

"Please? Anything would do."

It had been two weeks now and still I hadn't left the apartment. After a week of electrolysis (every day) my face was nearly done, at least until the hairs started growing back. My back and chest were due up next.

"Your place is nice and clean, I must commend you!" Julia looked at me with something like a smirk.

Did she know? I wondered. Although not as powerful as the first time, each time I did the dishes, laundry, or vacuum, it felt good. I would feel warm, relaxed, and ... well ... horny. I was cleaning every day now, and masturbating three to four times a day. What else could I do all day?

"And now, I think it's time for this." She held up a large shopping bag and placed it on the coffee table.

"What's that?" I began to develop a queasy feeling in my stomach.

"I've brought women's underwear for you to wear. Panties and bras."

"No ... I don't ... I'm comfortable with what I have," the queasy feeling was building. I knew that Julia wasn't going to like this attitude.

"Your breasts are starting to grow," Julia tapped her watch, impatiently. Apparently it was a habit that she had when something wasn't going right. "You might as well get used to wearing bras for support."

I barely fought down the nausea which welled up from within. "No! I'm the customer and I'm the one who, apparently, paid good money for this program, and so I'm going to wear what I want to wear."

"Listen to your body," Julia said, "what is it telling you? Shouldn't you just give up this silly little rebellion and obey me? You hired me to complete your transformation ... body, mind, and soul, and that is what I intend to do."

"But..." I held a hand to my mouth, my stomach twisting and turning. I ran to the bathroom, but didn't make it to the toilet in time. I threw up all over the bathroom floor.

I spent a nearly a half hour, crying, throwing up, sweating, and cursing my rotten, mangled, traitorous body.

Julia softened a bit. "Listen," she said, gently, "why not wear panties and bras? No one will see."

"I guess that's true..."

Eventually my stomach settled. Julia helped me clean up the bathroom. Should could be nice on occasion.

"I tell you what. If you do, then I suppose I could get you some magazines or something to read. Would you like that?"