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9 Weeks (Complete) Author: Unknown 

Word count: 6619

This was a terrible week. First, I lost my job. Even more damaging was losing my girlfriend. When I told her I'd lost my job, she flew into a rage. She called me a loser, a hopeless person. She told me this was the opportunity she was looking for to leave me.

So, I headed to a hotel. I ordered a pint and some other things.

After about a third of it, I started looking around anxiously. The hotel was very quiet, with very few people inside. The lighting was very dim, but two people in a far corner caught my eye.

It was obvious the two women were having a heated conversation. Because I was sitting far away, I only heard snippets.

The younger of the two women was dressed very sexily. She had long blonde hair.
Her face was perfect, with dark red lips. Silver earrings accentuated her cheeks.

She wore a white t-shirt, her breasts tightly encased, slightly smaller than I'd expected. Below, she wore a bright red leather miniskirt, revealing her underwear. She tried to pull the skirt down a little, but with little success. Whenever she moved, her skirt would ride up, revealing glimpses of the tops of her thin black stockings.

Her hand holding the cup was incredibly slender, her outstretched fingers painted bright red. On her feet were striking red high heels that couldn't be higher.

Her companion, slightly older, wore a black dress. The low-cut neckline and tight-fitting miniskirt perfectly showcased her stunning curves. I noticed she had shorter black hair than her friend.

Beneath the short skirt, I could see her long, beautiful legs encased in stockings. She too wore studded high heels.

I was almost mesmerized.

I bet any man in my situation couldn't resist. I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation. "Look at him, drooling over there. It's disgusting. I can't do this,"

the blonde girl cried. "It's your choice," the older woman replied. "You either do it, or you just walk out the door. What do you say?"

Her words sounded stern and harsh. The girl in red seemed to be considering it.
The noise in the bar grew louder, and I couldn't hear any more conversation. I picked up a pint and mustered my courage to walk towards their table. "My name is Martin," I introduced myself. To be friendly, I placed my hand on the blonde's lap. She flinched as if electrocuted. Then she hurriedly pulled her legs away from my hands. Her drink spilled. She pulled at the hem of her tight red leather skirt with all her might. Tears streamed from her eyes. "Look what you want me to do,"

she cried, looking at her own body. "How ridiculous I look. I feel so humiliated. You want me to pass your test and have sex with a stranger! I'm sorry, but my choice is 'no.' I'm sorry."

Her words confused me. What did she mean?

But before I could process what was going on, she had turned and stood up, leaving the bar. At the door, she pulled at the hem of her skirt one last time before slowly disappearing into the night.

I must admit I was very willing to get up and follow her, but soon, the older woman in black caught my attention again.

“I have to apologize for what happened to my friend. She’s very sensitive,”

she explained. “Now, won’t you get me a drink?”

And from that moment on, I was captivated by her. We chatted, laughed, and drank. I told her everything about myself—that I had lost my job and that my girlfriend had left me.

I drank a lot, and to this day, the conversation is still a blur. I expected some comfort. But I didn’t get any sympathy from her. Instead, I remember her saying that being a man is very simple. I was disgusted by that, and I tried to argue with her. “Well,” she said, “you should try living the life of a woman.”

I thought for a moment and said, “I really want to try.”

“You really want to know what it’s like to be a woman?”

“Really,” I replied, knowing nothing would happen. I really don’t remember the rest of the conversation. I think I remember her hailing a taxi, and I think I remember helping me out of the hotel and into the taxi, but after that, I remember nothing.

****

I woke up in what should have been a large bed. My tongue and throat were dry and sore. I tried to open my eyes wide, but I couldn't see anything. And I couldn't move my arms or legs. I began to realize I was restricted by the bed. I moved my head in terror, feeling myself stripped naked, my wrists and ankles bound, and my vision blindfolded.

This definitely wasn't my home or bedroom. I tried to scream, but my tongue and throat only produced muffled sounds.

But that was enough to attract the attention of the other person in the room. She removed my blindfold, and I recognized her as the woman I'd been drinking with last night.

Now she was dressed less provocatively. She wore a striped top and a straight skirt. She looked very capable, but her prominent breasts were still very sexy.

"Good morning," she said. "I believe you slept well."

I coughed, clearing my throat. "What are you going to do to me?"

"I want to see how serious you are,"

she said. "You said last night that you enjoy living as a woman. Did you mean that?"
"I don't understand,"

I replied hastily. “I have a suggestion for you. Listen carefully.”

Her words reached my ears. “I can make your dreams come true. I can train you to live like a woman.”

“How?”

I asked. “That’s not your problem,”

she whispered close to my ear. “Trust me. Do you really want to know what it feels like to wear a beautiful dress as a woman, to slip lace panties over your long, smooth legs? To feel the smooth silk blouse against your skin, or the nylon stockings rubbing against your thighs? To put on high heels and sway your hips as you walk?
Do you want to experience the feeling of lipstick covering your full lips? Or, to paint your delicate fingertips with vibrant nail polish?”

She stimulated me with soft, seductive words.

My manhood couldn’t resist her words and slowly became erect. She noticed my thing starting to throb. “I know these thoughts will excite you,”

she said with a laugh. “What do you want?”

I feigned resistance, but it was obvious at first glance that it was just a bluff. “I want you to sign your name here.”

She picked up a piece of paper from the bedside table and said, "If you're serious about experiencing life as a woman, sign this. Simply put, this contract requires you to obey me for the next two months. You must do exactly as I instruct. After two months, you will be free, but for those two months, I will have you. You will be mine. The contract is legal. If you sign and then breach it, I will sue you in court. My obligation under the contract is to teach you, to make you feel like a woman. I hope I've made myself clear."

I was horrified. I felt I had fallen into the trap of a crazy woman. She had completely seen through my weakness and was using this to threaten me. I didn't know what she would do if I refused to sign, so I decided to cooperate.

The rope binding my wrists was tight, making it difficult for me to sign. I hastily signed my name, and she picked up the contract. "Very good," she said, "Sign, seal, and release you. But don't think about going anywhere else."

She went into the bathroom but returned immediately with a tray containing several bottles of cream and medicine.

I was genuinely worried when she raised the razor! She quickly smeared lubricant all over my body. Then, skillfully, she shaved all the hair from my legs, arms, chest to my face. She spoke to me as she did so.

"From now on, you will call me 'my mistress,'"

she said. This was merely a formality; I didn't even know her name.

The thought of running away crossed my mind. "I've ruined the clothes you wore when you came," she continued. "From now on, you must learn to think like a woman."

After finishing my face, she began to trim my nails. My wrists were still bound.

She applied clear nail polish to my nails with a long plastic brush. Then, carefully, she applied two more coats of light pink nail polish. Once she was satisfied with the appearance of my nails, my mistress picked up a tape measure and began to measure my body. I felt the cold tape measure touch my waist and hips.

She asked for my shoe size, and then she left the room again. I shouted again, "You should untie me!"

But I received no response. A short while later I heard the front door slam shut. She had left the house!

Once again, I tried to break free of my shackles, but it was utterly futile. In fact, I immediately realized that pulling the rope would only tighten the knots. Sleepiness crept in again. I decided to let her have her way.

I don't know how much time passed before I was awakened. Sunlight streamed into the room; I think several hours had passed. "Now, Martina,"

she said beside me.

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