The Technical Visit That Changed My Secret Life

Let me introduce myself: my name is Tomás, I’m twenty-four years old, and I work as a video editor from home. I’m only five-foot-eight, slim, and naturally smooth-faced. Half a year ago I moved into a modest apartment all by myself in the very center of Córdoba: a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom. For anyone else it would have been nothing much; for me it was a small kingdom where I could give free rein to what I hid from the rest of the world.

You see, I’m a crossdresser. In the privacy of my home I become Marina. Nylon stockings that slide over my skin like a caress, low heels I still wobble in with every step, a light blouse, a skirt that whispers as it moves, a little makeup that stings a bit when I apply it, and a wig that settles with a comforting weight on my head. It’s not a perfect transformation, I admit it, but I hope to improve with time.

When I finish working I transform and live as Marina. I clean the living room, cook, breathing in the spiced aromas that fill the kitchen, and every so often I log into some chat where the keyboard clicks beneath my painted fingers. What I like most, though, is setting my phone on a tripod and, stretched out on the fresh sheets of my bed, playing in front of the camera. I practice poses, try to be sensual, sometimes use a small plug and end up masturbating all the way to orgasm, my racing pulse filling the silence. I stroke my cock encased in a white panty until I smear it with pre-cum, then I free it and jerk it slowly while the plug opens my ass little by little, and I end up cumming onto my own belly button while I bite my painted lip so I won’t scream.

I never posted those videos. I never dared have a real encounter with anyone; I limited myself to fantasizing that I was with someone, almost always another girl like me. But that safe routine wasn’t going to last much longer.

***

One morning, after pouring myself a coffee whose bitter steam warmed my hands, I turned on the computer and nothing happened. I tried several times: the monitor flickered with a buzzing that seemed to mock me, but the machine stayed dead. All my work was in there and deadlines were bearing down on me. I’m useless with this sort of thing, so I decided to ask for help.

A couple of blocks away there’s an electronics shop. They explained to me that they only sold cell phones, but that they could give me the contact of a guy who did house calls. They handed me a card: “Núñez PC Repair,” a phone number, and an email. I called. Someone answered whose voice sounded about my age. I told him how urgent it was and he agreed to come by in half an hour to do a diagnosis.

I was stretched out on the only armchair I own, the worn upholstery brushing my back, when the intercom gave a sharp beep.

—Who is it? —I asked, my voice a little shaky.

—The technician from Núñez. I’m looking for Tomás.

I buzzed him in and waited for him to come out of the elevator. He was, as I’d suspected, a man my age, slim, a little taller than me, with light brown hair tied back in a ponytail. His fresh cologne invaded the narrow living room.

—My savior —I told him when I saw him—. It just won’t turn on at all.

—Relax, these things are usually something stupid —he replied with a calm smile.

He opened the case with the metallic sound of screws and a little while later announced that it was just the power supply fuse. He replaced it and, just to be safe, said he’d run a diagnostic. I poured him a coffee while the machine purred again and the screen lit up in vivid colors.

—You saved me. How much do I owe you?

—No, please, I’m not going to charge you for a ten-minute piece of nothing.

—But it’s your job.

—Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll have some occasion for you to pay me.

The line left a strange tingle in me, as if he were hinting that we’d see each other again. I took it as the usual courtesy of someone expecting you to call him back. I walked him to the door, thanked him again, and returned to my desk, determined to make up for lost time.

***

A couple of hours later, just as I was almost finished, the messaging program opened by itself with a beep that froze my blood.

—You keep some very interesting things on your drive —appeared in writing, flashing.

—Who are you? —I typed, my fingers trembling.

—You knew me as the Núñez technician. Actually, I didn’t run any diagnosis: I installed a system that gives me total control of your computer. And in these two hours I went through everything. By the way, very pretty photos and videos of Marina. You need more practice and a better wardrobe, but there’s potential, I can assure you. I saw how you take the plug all the way in and how your cream slips out the tip of the little cock. Very promising.

—Why are you doing this? What do you want? —I answered, my throat tight.

—I also found a folder with fake billing you submitted at the company, the one that probably let you move out. So from now on you’re going to obey me. If not, the photos and videos go to your whole contact list, and the billing goes to your job. As I see it, your only option is obedience. The other is to be exposed to your family and maybe go to prison.

—I don’t have any money. I spent all my savings on the move.

—I don’t want your money. I want your obedience. And we’re going to start by getting to know Marina. Go change and turn on the camera. I’ll wait.

Terrified, I went to the bedroom feeling the cold floor under my feet. I transformed with clumsy hands: underwear that fit with an intimate brush, the stockings whispering as they slid up my legs, blouse, skirt, wig, and in a hurry, just the painted lips, with their waxy taste. I sat down in front of the camera. His was still off.

—You need practice, but you’re promising. In the videos I saw you have an anal plug. Are you wearing it?

—No, I only got dressed.

—Go get it. I want to see you put it in, in front of the camera.

I was on autopilot, paralyzed by the fear that he’d spread everything. I found it and came back with it in my hand.

—Pull your little panties down to your knees and get on all fours on the bed, ass facing the lens. I want a good look at your little asshole —he typed.

I obeyed, trembling. I felt the cold air between my shaved cheeks and a liquid shame running down my stomach. I arched myself, arched my back, spread my knees a little.

—Perfect. Now spit on your own finger and massage your little hole. Slowly, in circles. I want to see it open all by itself from wanting it.

I did it. Warm saliva, the fingertip tracing circles over the tight ring, every touch sending a lash of heat up to my cock, which started swelling inside the panty I’d half-pulled down. The hole clenched and released, obedient, while I bit the pillow.

—Put it in. One whole finger. All the way in.

I shoved my finger in to the knuckle. My ass closed around it with a hot spasm and I swallowed a moan into the sheet.

—Take it out and put it back in. Ten times. Count out loud.

I fucked myself with my own finger, counting under my breath, feeling the channel soften, feeling desire start to leak out of me. By the time I finished, my cock was hard and throbbing, a thick strand of pre-cum hanging from the tip down to the sheet.

—Now then, the plug. Coat it well with lube. Make it drip.

I lubed it with the cold gel between my fingers, the silicone bulb becoming slick and shiny. I placed it at my entrance and pushed slowly. I felt the tip open me, then the widest part stretching my ring until it burned, a burn that was almost pleasurable pain, and finally the silent click of the neck settling inside me. A long, rough moan escaped me that I couldn’t hold back.

—There you go. You’ve got a nice full little ass. Now touch your little cock over your clothes. Don’t take it out.

I knelt, sat my heels under my ass —which pushed the plug half an inch deeper and made me jolt— and stroked the hard bulge through the silk. The fabric clung, soaked with pre-cum, outlining every vein of my cock.

—Enough. You’re not going to cum. Do you have a chastity device?

—No —I typed with clumsy fingers, my breathing ragged.

—No problem. I’m sending you the address of a sex shop three blocks away. I already paid for the purchase; just say you’re there to pick up an order for Marina. You’ve got half an hour. And at the kiosk on your corner, buy an envelope the size of a letter.

—An envelope? For what?

—Don’t ask. That’s the first thing you have to learn: only obey, if you don’t want your life to end here.

I got changed, left the plug in, feeling it with every step, and went out. How had I ended up like this, at the mercy of a stranger? The fresh air of the street contrasted with the heat of my anguish.

***

When I came back, he was still waiting for me on the screen. He made me put the chastity device on in front of the camera; the cold metal closed around me with a restrictive feeling, locking my flaccid cock inside a steel cage that would no longer let it grow. Then he ordered me to put both keys in the envelope, seal it, address it to myself, and drop it in the ground-floor mailbox.

—That gives us two or three days until the keys come back to you. Take photos of the moment you drop it off. Don’t even think about cheating.

I obeyed. The mailbox echoed with a dull thud as it swallowed the envelope. I’d be locked in for at least three days.

—Perfect. You’re going to be a good student. Now listen: tonight, at eight, you show up at the address I’m sending you. You come wearing the plug and the chastity device, completely shaved. Don’t bring clothes, I’ll provide them. Are we agreed?

—I have no other alternative.

—You do, but you won’t like it. I’ll be waiting at eight.

***

I spent the afternoon on edge. I shaved until there wasn’t a single hair left, leaving a chemical smell in the air and a bare coolness on my skin. At seven I left. Following his instructions, I didn’t call a car: I used public transportation. I walked three blocks to the stop feeling the plug pressing with every step, got on a bus where every pothole made it rock inside me, and when I got off I walked another seven blocks with the chastity device reminding me of its presence with every brush.

I arrived at a tower in one of the city’s most elegant neighborhoods. One apartment per floor. How can a technician afford this? I thought. Is this even the right address, or a cruel joke? I went up in the elevator, which smelled of polished metal, and rang the bell on the only door on the landing. It opened with a soft click.

—Hello, you must be Tomás. I’m Bianca. I’m glad you got here on time —a soft, seductive voice greeted me.

I was nowhere near prepared for what I saw. A large, exquisite foyer, two velvet armchairs, and a mirror covering the entire wall, reflecting my image alongside that of my hostess. Because she was a hostess: it was the same technician from the morning, but the change was brutal. The ponytail was still there; that was where the similarities ended. Heavy, almost perfect makeup, feline eyes in dark tones, wine-colored lips outlined in a pronounced shiny V. Black latex gloves up to the shoulders, a corset that cinched the waist and emphasized a flat chest, eight garters holding up seam stockings. She was aroused, and her androgynous figure ended in knee-high boots with stiletto heels that clacked on the marble. When she turned, I saw she wore a plug finished with a furry tail, like a fox’s.

—Come in, sweetheart —she said with a smile.

—As you so rightly said, I didn’t have many alternatives —I dared to answer.

The living room was even more imposing: a huge window let in the golden light of sunset and a gigantic television showed a porn film. On the screen, a man was splitting the ass of a transvestite who moaned with her mouth open, streams of saliva hanging from her chin. In front of the TV, a wide sofa and, on the coffee table, two glasses, ice tinkling, and a bottle of whiskey whose amber aroma floated in the air.

—Sit down, have something, relax. But first get naked, I want to see if you followed the instructions.

I undressed and left my clothes on an armchair, feeling the cool air on my shaved, vulnerable skin. Her cold latex-gloved fingers checked the plug —she twisted it a quarter turn inside me and made me jolt with a short moan— and then the chastity device. She tugged at the cage, checked the lock, slid a finger under the ring imprisoning my balls.

—Perfect. Completely shaved. Have a drink.

I poured myself a glass with trembling hands and drank almost in one swallow, feeling the sting of the whiskey go down my throat.

—How can you keep all this up? Repairing computers doesn’t pay that much.

—You have no idea what people keep on their machines. Over the years I discovered secrets from many clients: politicians, lawyers, businessmen. They all hide something, and when I find it they become my patrons just to keep me quiet. In your case, the paperwork and the videos were a bonus: I’d been looking for someone like you for a while.

—Someone like me? There must be lots of crossdressers.

—I was looking for someone virgin, who had never been with anyone else. And that’s you. You’ll understand why soon enough. Now come here, I’m going to transform you into my pupil.

***

Her bedroom was even more disturbing: closets and walls covered in mirrors multiplied our images into infinity, and in the corners of the ceiling four cameras hummed with their lights blinking.

—We’re going to document your transformation.

I didn’t even get a chance to ask what she meant. She started handing me clothes: a schoolgirl outfit, all white. Underwear that clung like a second skin, stockings held up by tight garters, a fresh blouse, a bow that brushed my neck, a plaid skirt that barely covered the tops of the stockings, and platform shoes that clacked as I walked. She put on fake nails and painted them pale pink, with their sweet, chemical smell, a pair of rings that added weight to my fingers, and earrings that jingled against my ears.

—Sit down so I can do your makeup. Pay very close attention.

She lined my eyes in pastel tones until she gave me the same feline gaze as hers, glued on eyelashes that weighed down my eyelids, applied powdery base and blush, and outlined my lips in a pink V to match my nails. Finally, a shoulder-length blond wig, styled into two pigtails at the sides, with the synthetic hair brushing my neck.

—Look how beautiful you are. I told you you had potential.

In the mirror, hardly any trace of Tomás remained. In front of me stood a schoolgirl who blended innocence and sensuality, repeated in a thousand reflections. She put on metal-framed glasses without lenses, cold on my nose, and gave me a strawberry gum whose sweetness burst as I chewed.

—Now we’re going to the living room to watch your transformation.

While the screen showed how I had been turned into a schoolgirl, she sat next to me. Our nylon-clad legs brushed with a whisper that raised the hairs on my skin. I don’t know if it was the whiskey, whose burn lingered, or the excitement of seeing myself reflected like this, but if it hadn’t been for the chastity device I would have been touching myself. The cage was tugging, the metal pressing the flesh that wanted to grow and couldn’t, sending stabs of frustrated desire through my belly. She took my hand and guided it under her latex skirt, moved aside a thin thong, and placed it directly on her cock, hot, rigid, throbbing against my fingers.

—Stroke me. Slowly, very gently. From base to tip, like that, with your fingers just barely closed. You’re doing very well.

I felt it grow under my fist. It was thicker than mine, curving slightly upward, with a thick drop peeking out of the meatus. I rubbed it with my whole palm, up and down, feeling how it throbbed. She closed her eyes and spread her legs.

—Spit on your hand and go back. More slippery. That’s it, good girl. Now twist it with your wrist when you reach the tip. Yes, like that. Mmm.

While I jerked her clumsily with the aid of instruction, she slid a hand under my plaid skirt and squeezed my ass, slipped a finger up to the plug and started moving it inside me, going in and out an inch, playing with my hole while I jerked her cock.

—Too bad that in two or three days you won’t be able to free yourself. In the meantime, we’re going to try other things. There’s something I didn’t tell you: besides my patrons, I run a very small escort agency, for very select clients. I’ve found it’s very profitable to fulfill their fantasies. And that’s where you come in. One of them has a very particular one: being with a virgin schoolgirl.

—But I’ve never done anything like that. You’re the first person to see me transformed.

—You don’t get a vote in this. On top of the evidence from your computer, now I have a beautiful video of you letting yourself be feminized and jerking me off. I was paid to be with someone like you, and the client is about to arrive.

The hole was getting deeper and deeper: I was trapped in a web I had spun myself. At that instant the doorbell rang.

—That must be him. Behave like a good girl and make me proud. Then I’ll give you your cut.

***

A man in his forties came in, exceptionally well put together: dark designer suit, Italian loafers, immaculate white shirt. He moved as though the house were his, leaving behind a trail of expensive cologne and wood.

—A pleasure to meet you. What’s your name, little one? —he said after kissing my cheek, his breath warm and minty.

—Marina, sir. A pleasure —I answered in a trembling voice.

—Sit down, let’s have a drink while we watch the video —Bianca proposed.

I served the drinks. On the screen, my transformation continued, with amplified sounds.

—Aren’t you a little young to be drinking alcohol? —he asked, teasing.

—I’m very nervous, and Bianca sometimes lets me have some —I replied, slipping into the role almost without realizing it, chewing the strawberry gum.

While he praised Bianca’s work, his hand held the back of my neck firmly, he leaned in and kissed me, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I answered almost without thinking, our tongues playing with a taste of whiskey and mint. He sucked my lips one by one, bit my lower lip gently, and when he let me go the lipstick had smeared down to my chin. He took my hand and guided it to his crotch. The fabric of his pants was stretched over a huge, throbbing bulge. I started stroking his cock through the cloth, feeling the length, the thickness, how the tip reached almost to the belt.

—Get it out, girl. Take it out. Touch it directly.

I unbuckled his belt, pulled down the zipper, and freed a massive, veiny cock that settled into my palm, warm and heavy. I wrapped my hand around it and started moving up and down, squeezing it, watching the foreskin pull back and then cover the shiny glans again.

—Looks like you’ve broken the ice. Shall we head to the playroom? —Bianca said.

***

She led us, key in hand, to a room I hadn’t seen: a small dungeon covered in mirrors that multiplied us into infinity, with a smell of leather and lube in the air. A chair that looked like a throne upholstered in black velvet, a St. Andrew’s cross, and a wall loaded with harnesses, whips, cold shackles, and devices I couldn’t identify. In the center, some kind of stocks where Bianca immobilized me: hands, head, and legs locked with a metallic click, exposed and unable to move. The stocks forced me onto all fours, my face at the height of the crotch of whoever stood in front and my ass lifted, offered, for whoever positioned himself behind.

Bianca pulled my plaid skirt up to my waist and tugged my white panties down to my thighs, leaving the chastity cage and the plug exposed to the mirrors, to the cameras, to Leandro’s hungry eyes. I heard the click of a lube cap opening.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Leandro finish undressing, revealing a toned body and a long, thick cock, the head purple, a throbbing vein running from top to bottom. He stood in front of me and rested it against my painted lips. The smell was intense, male, salty.

—Open your mouth, schoolgirl.

Bianca stood next to him, lifted her latex skirt, and pulled out hers too, thinner but just as hard, and showed it to me beside his.

—Relax, you’re going to enjoy it —she whispered in my ear, hot breath against my skin—. You’re going to suck both of them. One and then the other. And when I say so, both at once.

I opened my mouth. Leandro pushed the tip in and advanced slowly until I felt the glans hit my palate. It was huge, filled me completely, wouldn’t let me swallow. He began to rock, in and out, his hand clenched in my blond wig so I couldn’t get away. My eyes filled with tears and mascara ran in two black lines down my cheeks.

—Use your tongue, play with the tip —Bianca guided me—. Wrap it with your lips, don’t show your teeth. That’s it, like that, good girl. Suck hard when it comes out, like you never want it to leave.

I obeyed. I licked the crown, sank my tongue into the small hole of the meatus, sucked like I was drawing out juice. Leandro growled under his breath, pushed in a centimeter more each time, until I felt pubic hair against my nose and a brief wave of nausea that made me drool. Saliva ran down my chin in thick strands to the fake breasts Bianca had squeezed under my blouse, and dripped from the tips of my nipples.

—Now me —said Bianca. She took Leandro’s cock out of my mouth and put hers in. It was thinner, easier to take, and quickly reached the back of my throat. She wasn’t patient: she rammed it into me with short, quick thrusts, gripping my two pigtails like reins while I swallowed and choked and swallowed again.

—Look at her, Leandro. Look how this virgin little slut sucks cock. She loves it. The whore face she makes. Isn’t that right, girl? You love it, don’t you?

—Mmmhmm —was all I could answer, mouth full.

Meanwhile, Leandro had gone around behind me. I felt his hot hands spread my ass cheeks and a stream of cold lube fall directly onto the plug and run down my perineum. Then his fingers, two at once, slipped around the plug, pressing it, moving it in circles inside me.

—What a tight little ass your schoolgirl has —he told Bianca—. Let’s open her up good.

He removed the plug with a suction that left a sudden emptiness and made me moan with my mouth still full. The hole stayed open for a moment, throbbing, begging to be filled again. He put in one finger first, to the knuckle, and twisted it; then two, scissoring them apart; then three. With each finger I moaned harder against Bianca’s cock, and she laughed and gave me little affectionate slaps with her wet dick.

—Bianca, this one’s going to be ready.

—Put a condom on him. I want her fucked nice and good.

I heard the snap of latex from the condom. Then I felt the head of his cock resting at my entrance, slick with lube, pushing patiently. The ring gave way with an electric burn that shot through me from neck to navel. The head entered with one thrust and tore a muffled scream from me, and then the rest advanced slowly, millimeter by millimeter, opening me, filling me, until I felt his balls settle against my perineum and his hips slam against my ass.

—You were right, Bianca: a virgin. Nice and tight. Congratulations.

—Thank you. I’m still training her, but I saw her potential right away. Look at her, not a loose curl out of place, and you’ve already got her to the hilt.

He started moving inside me with long thrusts, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in to the hilt. Every shove sent waves of heat through my body, a pleasure I had never felt before, made of pain and fullness and humiliation all mixed together. I, with Bianca’s cock filling my mouth, could only moan muffled, eyes rolling back.

—Faster —Bianca asked—. Fuck her faster, I want to see her come apart.

Leandro obeyed. He gripped my hips with both hands, dug his fingers into my flesh, and started pounding me without mercy. The sound of his thighs slapping against my ass filled the room, a wet, obscene slapping that mixed with my moans and Bianca’s grunts. The chastity cage bounced between my legs with every thrust, inflicting a sweet torture on my imprisoned cock, which wanted to grow and couldn’t.

—Look at her, Bianca. Her little ass is starting to give on its own. She’s dripping lube and spit.

—It’s because she loves being split open. My little schoolgirl slut.

They switched positions without taking me off: Bianca let go of my pigtails, turned around, and stood behind Leandro. She smeared her own cock with a stream of lube, rested it against his ass —Leandro was, I discovered, wearing another small plug that Bianca pulled out with a clean tug— and with a shove she impaled him too. And then they started fucking me in a chain: when Bianca thrust into Leandro, he thrust into me; the force of one cock transferred to the other and the ass of three bodies trembled in unison. They were splitting me in two and splitting my head open at the same time.

—Oh, oh, oh —was all I could manage to say, saliva dangling.

They kept going like that for a good while until Leandro tensed, increased the pace, and with one final deep, burning thrust came with hot pulses inside the condom. I felt every beat of his cock against my walls, every jet of semen pushing the latex until it swelled. He stayed like that for a few seconds, buried to the hilt, breathing heavily, before slowly pulling out. The emptiness he left was enormous. Bianca came out of his ass too and stood beside me, her cock shining with lube and spit.

—Now it’s my turn. Open your mouth and get ready to take me.

She stood in front of the stocks, wrapped her hand around her cock, and started jerking herself furiously two inches from my face. The head was purple, swollen, with a thick drop hanging from the tip. I stuck out my tongue to receive it, obedient, looking up at her through mascara-wet eyes.

—Yes, like that, show me your tongue. Oh, oh, you filthy schoolgirl, oh I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum all over your little face —she moaned, shaking her cock faster.

The first spurt hit my cheek and ran to my lip; the second landed straight on my tongue, hot and thick; the third and fourth filled my mouth and stained my blond pigtails. She forced me to swallow it all in one gulp, pressing my jaw with her hand. The taste was unfamiliar —salty, a little bitter, with a strange undertone— and, to my surprise, I loved it. I ran my tongue over my lips, collecting what had remained at the corner, and smiled at her with my face painted in semen.

—Good girl —she said, and wiped my chin with her thumb—. Now lick me clean.

She pushed the soft tip back between my lips and I sucked her slowly, drawing out every drop, until I left it clean and shining. While Leandro got dressed, he leaned down to my ear:

—It was a pleasure meeting you. Next week I’d like to visit you again. And next time I’m bringing a friend. I want to see you with two cocks inside you at once.

Bianca walked him to the door, then released me from the stocks with metallic clicks. My legs were trembling, my wig had slipped to one side, my makeup was smudged and dried semen covered my cheeks, my blouse was stained with saliva. But I was smiling. Bianca took me to the bathroom, cleaned me with a damp towel, fixed my pigtails, and gave me a long kiss on the mouth, tasting what remained of her own semen.

—You were excellent. I think Leandro fell in love with you. Here’s your share.

She handed me a wad of crisp bills that smelled of fresh ink. When I counted them, there were eighteen hundred dollars.

***

Almost six months have passed since that night, and my life changed completely. I moved into Bianca’s building, two floors below, and we set up a very profitable business. Along with the patrons she keeps finding in the computers she repairs, we added a select clientele: she gets the customers, I edit the videos we distribute.

We fulfill fantasies that seem never to run out. I’ve been a secretary in a tight skirt and heels —one who let herself get fucked on the boss’s desk with ripped stockings—, a nurse amid the smell of antiseptic and latex gloves —who sucked off a patient tied to the gurney—, a strict governess —who split a lawyer’s ass open with a strap-on while he cried and begged for more—, a teacher in front of a blackboard —who made two “students” cum on her face before the bell— and even a wicked stepmother. Leandro, for his part, visits me every Tuesday, now in my apartment. I cook for him with my skirt barely covering my naked ass, greet him with “Daddy, I’m so glad you came!” and he treats me like his little girl, with caresses and kisses that taste like shared desire, with a cock I know by heart and that always finds its way all the way into my replacement cunt.