Maid to serve: A stereotype gun story.
Maid to serve: A stereotype gun story.
*ZAAP!* goes the cheap plastic toy in Chad’s hand.
He gasps as an invisible beam strikes his friend Mitch in the chest transforming him from a pale skinny nerd into a strikingly beautiful woman. Long dark hair falls past smooth bare shoulders a leather basque cinches in a narrow waist and pushes up an impressive pair of breasts. The new woman is several inches shorter than Mitch had been but the thigh length boots that she is now wearing mean that she actually stands a little taller than the original Mitch had.
“Oh shit! Mitch. I didn't… I mean couldn't… I’m sorry.” Chad stammers his usual bravado stripped away by the shock of his friend’s sudden transformation “I thought this was just some dumb toy I had no idea…”
Mitch doesn’t speak she simply fixes Chad with a cold measured look and holds out her hand.
Despite the fact that he towers over the new girl Chad finds her strangely intimidating. There is an air of quiet confidence about her, very different from the shy anxious boy she had been. He swallows whatever he had been about to say and hands over the raygun without another word.
“Good boy,“ she says her voice clear and controlled “Now let’s see what have we got here? Hmm, ah yes I think this should do it…”
Chad barely has time to register that the gun is suddenly pointing towards him before he is overwhelmed by his own transformation.
He feels the same and for a moment he thinks the gun didn’t work until he looks down and sees his bare arms and painted nails. He takes in the black satin and lace maids costume hugging tight across his still broad and flat chest. He sees his smooth stocking clad legs emerging from the frilly hem of his skirt. He wobbles on his new heels taking a moment to find his balance. He is noticeably thinner than he was, his bulky gym trained muscles trimmed down to a leaner more athletic figure. Blonde hair tickles his shoulders and quick tug confirms it is not a wig. At least he is still male he reassures himself although his underwear suddenly feels much tighter than his usual boxers.
Completing his self-examination he looks over to his mistress on the verge of demanding she turn him back but the words die on his painted lips before he can speak them. If he had thought she was beautiful before she is sheer perfection now.
Nothing has changed about her in the brief time since his transformation but it’s like he is seeing her with new eyes. She is not merely a woman to him but a goddess. He cringes inwardly at the idea that he had even considered questioning her. Filled with shame he sinks to his knees before her head bowed. He resists the urge to beg her forgiveness knowing that he is unworthy to ask her anything.
His heart leaps in his chest when she hooks a single finger under his chin lifting it up until he is looking into her eyes.
“Well now aren’t you a pretty little thing.” she purrs just the sound of her voice making his cock twitch in its lace prison “Tell me sissy boy, what do you want?”
“I… I… To serve you, Mistress,” he says blushing at how desperate he sounds “Please let me…”
“Shhh,” she silences him pressing a finger against his lips “I didn’t ask you to beg, although it may amuse me to hear you do that later. If you wish to serve me as my sissy maid then you can start by cleaning this place up and then cooking dinner for me. If you do a very good job I may allow you to pleasure me after that.”
She turns on her heel and struts toward the door before pausing and turning back to the still kneeling but pathetically happy Chad.
“Oh and get rid of this will you.” she orders tossing him the gun “I don’t think I’ll be needing it anymore.”
A story for @shadow211e using their original idea, the stereotype gun. Hope you like it.
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