I Took Away Everything Feminine and Turned Her Into My Boy

It had to end. For months I’d been watching our account drain away on things that were good for nothing: straightening treatments, ridiculously expensive dye jobs, manicure sessions at the priciest salon downtown. And lingerie. What she spent on lace in a month could have covered two months’ rent. Always spending, spending, spending, and she’d never lifted a finger to get a job of her own.

That afternoon she came back again with shopping bags hanging from her arms. I greeted her with an icy stare from the sofa. She shrugged, like it was nothing, and went into the bedroom. I followed at my own pace.

On the bed she had laid out, fanned in neat rows, all the credit card bills. Beside them, a trash bag stuffed to the brim: her panties, her bras, her makeup, everything. Daniela didn’t understand at first. She yanked open the dresser and froze: inside there were only tight men’s briefs and white T-shirts. Not a bra. Not a single pair of panties.

Among the men’s underwear, she also found a silicone cock, a soft insert meant to be tucked inside the briefs. She opened the closet door looking for her dresses and found only pressed shirts and straight-cut trousers.

Then she saw me standing in the doorway.

“Where is my clothes?” she started yelling. “What did you do with everything?”

“This is your clothes,” I answered calmly.

“This is men’s clothes.”

“You’re not a man,” I said, folding my arms. “You’re a boy. A pretty little boy who’s going to learn how to behave.”

I ordered her to take off that silk blouse she had on right away. I had an appointment booked that very afternoon, and she was leaving it with the shortest haircut of her life. She shook her head and walked toward the door. I grabbed her by the arm, shoved her onto the bed, and started pulling a white brief up her legs myself.

“Put the insert in,” I ordered, placing the silicone in her hand. “There, where it belongs. Now you’ve got one.”

Then I handed her a wide, proper binder and made her wrap her chest until it lay flat. There would be time for more permanent solutions later, I thought, watching her press the fabric tight against her ribs.

I pushed her down so she knelt in front of me. I lowered my jeans and pulled out my cock, already hard from the moment I saw her obey. I ran my hand over my own military buzz cut and told her:

“You’re going to have a haircut like this. And you’re going to pull your cock out through the fly of your briefs and stroke it like a man while you suck me off.”

She obeyed. While she had my cock in her mouth, I held the back of her neck and looked down at her from above.

“You’d like to have a real one like mine, wouldn’t you, boy?”

She nodded with her mouth full. I came all over her face and, instead of wiping it off, I smeared the semen with my palm until I completely ruined the makeup she’d worked so hard on. Then I tossed her the tightest jeans left in the closet.

“Put them on. I want the bulge to show. Get dressed, we’ve got an appointment at the barbershop.”

***

I drove to the downtown gay neighborhood without saying a word. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her reaching over and over for the bulge in her crotch, as if she still couldn’t believe what was between her legs. I parked in front of an old barbershop with a red awning, one of the classic ones.

Daniela got out onto the sidewalk and saw her reflection in the window. The bulge must have shown a lot, because she moved her hand to cover it, embarrassed, like someone walking around with an erection they can’t hide. By the entrance, three men were leaning against the wall. Black leather, shaved heads, arms crossed. Their eyes tracked her from head to toe.

I leaned in close to her ear and whispered:

“I bet a boy like you would love it if one of them shoved his cock up your ass.”

I felt her shudder all over, but she said nothing.

“Answer me, boy,” I demanded.

“Yes,” she muttered.

“Yes, what?” I barked. “From now on you call me sir.”

“Yes, sir,” she finally answered, barely audible.

“Doesn’t sound very convincing. Maybe I should tell them you need a proper fuck after your haircut.” I pushed her a step toward them. “Tell them. Tell them!”

She swallowed, looked down at the pavement, then at the three men.

“I should... I should get a good fucking after my haircut.”

The leather guys chuckled under their breath.

“We’ll wait here,” said the tallest one, without uncrossing his arms.

***

I shoved her into the barbershop. Behind the counter, Bruno looked up. I’d known him for years.

“Bruno, my boy’s been acting like a girl. I need you to get rid of all this hair and leave him with a proper cut.”

Bruno smiled crookedly and pushed her toward the chair.

“Come on, lad. Sit down.”

He lowered the blinds and turned the sign on the door: CLOSED. The sharp snap of the cape as he shook it out echoed through the empty shop. I watched Daniela sweat; a drop slid down her neck. When Bruno fastened the cape around her throat, she managed to reach a hand underneath to cover the bulge. Bruno slapped it away, gave her a firm squeeze between the legs, and let out a low laugh.

“Not very big. You sure this isn’t a girl?”

He turned on the clippers. The buzz filled the air. Before she could brace herself, he pressed the cold steel to the back of her neck and started up. One, two, three passes. With each one, long locks fell to the floor and the pixie cut gave way to a military buzz. I watched her in the mirror, and I’d swear her whole body tightened with every pass.

“That’s it, very good,” I said. “Down to the skin in back and on the sides. Don’t leave more than half an inch on top.”

Zip, zip. The hair fell and she trembled with each whirr. When Bruno reached for the hand mirror, I stopped him.

“Wait. The little girl shaved her legs and armpits too. I think it would do him good to learn how a real man shaves.”

Bruno burst out laughing and ran his knuckles over her cheek.

“Yeah. Let’s lather her up.”

He put a hot towel over her face, whipped cream in a bowl with the old brush, and spread it over her cheeks and neck. Then he set the razor against her skin and started gliding it slowly, scraping.

I watched her in the mirror and saw the exact moment she stopped holding back. Under the cape, her hand slipped discreetly to the fly. Her fingers found the silicone insert and stroked it like it was flesh. From the way her lips pressed together, I’d swear she felt it hard, hers, part of her body.

Bruno finished the last pass, yanked the cape off, and tossed it aside. He left her there sitting with her hand still inside her jeans.

The two of us laughed.

“Look at the faggot, he got hard from the haircut,” I said, running my palm over the new buzz. “Right?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, eyes down.

I motioned to Bruno toward the back room.

“What do you say, Bruno? Shall we make him pay for the cut properly?”

Bruno nodded and wiped his hands on his apron.

“Well then, lad? Get ready to pay for your buzz cut.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered.

***

I grabbed her by the arm, but Bruno stopped me with a hand. He unbuttoned her shirt one button at a time, sat her down hard in the chair, took off her shoes, and before she could react, he undid her belt and yanked her trousers down.

“Stand up,” I ordered. “Show us what you’ve got.”

She stood in front of the big mirror and saw herself whole, transformed from head to toe. White socks up to mid-calf, tight briefs with the bulge showing, the tip of the silicone poking out through the fly, and a white T-shirt clinging to a flat chest, flattened under the binder.

Bruno pushed her toward the back room. In the center there was an old, stained mattress. We laid her on her back and Bruno and I dropped our trousers down to our jockstraps.

We knelt on either side of her head and pulled our cocks out through the side of the jockstrap pouch. They hung a hand’s breadth from her face.

“Do you want a jockstrap like Bruno’s and mine?” I asked.

“Yes, sir,” she answered with a tremor.

“Then ask for it. And stroke your cock while you ask,” Bruno demanded.

“I want to wear a jockstrap like yours, sir.”

“Why do you want one?” I pressed.

“Because I’m a boy who sucks cock, sir.”

We took turns shoving our cocks into her mouth. I lifted her buzzed head with my hand and rubbed the short stubble while she sucked us off, going from one to the other. Bruno ended up straddling her face and thrusting all the way in. I moved down toward her legs, took her hand, brought it to my cock, and started moving it while with my other hand I stroked the insert.

“Do you like this, boy?” I asked.

She could barely get out a “yes, sir” with Bruno fucking her mouth. When he emptied himself down her throat, I came right over the silicone, splattering it completely. Bruno rolled to the side, laughing.

“Well damn, faggot spunk,” he joked.

“Here. Taste your own cum,” I said, scooping some up with her fingers and putting them in her mouth.

I stood up and threw the towel at her face.

“Clean yourself off. The leather guys have been waiting a while.”

***

When she finished cleaning her chest and stomach, they knocked on the back-room door. It was the three men from the entrance.

“He’s all yours, boys,” I said, pointing at her.

One came over and ran his hand over the stubble of the buzz cut, as if appraising her. Another tossed her a jockstrap that landed at her feet.

“Put it on,” he barked.

The first one yanked her briefs down. The silicone fell to the floor and bounced like a rubber ball. The three of them let out a roar of laughter.

“Fuck, that’s tiny. No wonder he needed it,” the tallest one mocked.

She pulled the jockstrap up her legs with clumsy hands, and saw herself reflected in the back-room mirror, standing beside them: flat her, bulging them. One of them shoved her from behind until she was on all fours over a wooden trunk, like a dog.

The one in front pulled his cock out from the side of the pouch and shoved it in her mouth.

“Suck, boy,” he ordered, rubbing her head.

Just as she started sucking, the one behind ran his tongue along the inner side of her thigh. His shaved head rose slowly until he pressed against her through the fabric of the jockstrap. Daniela felt herself swelling down there in a way she’d never known. She would have sworn she had a real cock. And then, without warning, the man rammed into her ass in one hard thrust.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She slipped her hand into her own jockstrap and touched herself. What she found down there felt enormous, big enough to hold between two fingers and stroke like a cock.

“Stroke it, faggot,” they ordered at the same time.

The smell of shaving lotion mixed with sweat and semen filled the back room while they fucked her from both ends. Drops ran down her shaved nape. When the two of them came inside and outside her at the same time, something broke: the orgasm hit her all at once and soaked the inside of the jockstrap pouch.

As she collapsed over the trunk, she knew clearly what she really wanted. She wanted to touch herself and feel something big between her legs. She wanted her head shaved like the man who had just taken her. She wanted a flat, hard, masculine chest. What if that was her future after all?