• Bigby "How Abraham became Abigail" m/F

    From a425couple@21:1/5 to All on Sun Jun 5 15:24:01 2022
    Author; Bigby

    Title; How Abraham became Abigail

    Summary; an adolescent boy gets a modeling job; but not as a boy

    Keywords; m/F t/F, t/M transformation, Fdom




    This story is a prequel for "My dream girl with a dick"


    How Abraham became Abigail;

    It began when I was 16, and the phone call came. My mother had
    submitted my photograph to a model agency, and someone wanted my
    face for some advertising.

    I went to the address after school to meet the photographer; it
    was a small studio, just the photographer and a makeup girl.

    I was very impressed; they both seemed so glamorous. The
    photographer, Daisy, was a beautiful woman, who looked half
    Oriental. She was somewhat petite, and in her forties. The
    makeup girl, Francine, was slightly younger.

    "You must be Abraham." Daisy said, introducing herself and
    shaking my hand and businesslike manner.

    "What do you think, Francine?" She asked her colleague.

    "Let's get him into the light." Francine replied.

    I felt odd as they sat me in a chair and walked around me,
    discussing me as though I were an object. I guess I was, to
    them. I was only there as an image, not as a person.

    They shone light on me from different angles, and Daisy took a
    shot or two, since she couldn't seem to breathe for very long
    without photographing something. They decided I would do.

    "We can do the shot on Tuesday, it will take all day, or maybe
    even two." Daisy told me, "It pays $150 per day. Interested?"

    "Yes, of course." I told her. Why else would I have come? 150,
    maybe $300; that seemed pretty attractive.

    "You'll have to dress as a girl." Daisy told me.

    Well, that threw me. I wasn't sure I wanted to do that.

    "Come on now, if you want to be in modeling, you'll have to learn
    to be flexible." Daisy informed me. "Still, if you say no, we'll
    understand. It's not for everyone."

    She seemed so nonchalant about it; it wasn't really a big deal, I
    thought; probably no one would ever recognize me in the photos
    anyway. And I could get myself the bicycle I wanted with that
    much money. I agreed.

    I arrived as instructed at 9 AM Tuesday morning. Daisy hadn't
    yet arrived, and Francine sat me down at her bench.

    She wrapped a cloth around my neck, like they do at a barbershop.
    She ran her fingers through my blond hair, examining my scalp
    with an artist's eye.

    "I'm going to enjoy this," She told me, as she began to pin and
    spray my hair. "I love getting creative."

    I enjoyed the touch of her fingers on my face, neck, and scalp as
    she worked. I found her attractive, although I had no sexual
    interest in her; the girls I was interested in didn't even know I
    was alive.

    Francine added blush to my face, and I was too shocked to object
    when she started to put mascara around my eyes. She carefully
    painted my lips red, but as I saw my face in the mirror, I knew
    no one would recognize me, no way. That wasn't me, that was a
    girl.

    Francine glued long colored fingernails on top of my natural
    ones. "Don't worry, honey; they come right off when we're done."
    She said.

    Clamp on earrings, a fake pearl necklace, a stuffed bra, a
    pink blouse and matching skirt. I went behind a screen and
    stripped down to my underwear, and pulled up the net stockings
    Francine gave me. Open high heels finished my transformation.

    Daisy arrived; she was pleased.

    "Outstanding, Francine. Exactly what I wanted; female, yet not
    too feminine. Androgynous, that's the look."





    I stood in front of a plain colored backdrop while Daisy shot the
    first roll, then we stopped for coffee and cookies.

    "I don't understand." I said, "If you wanted a girl, why didn't
    you start with one?"

    "I've had some trouble with people stealing my models." Daisy
    told me. "I break in a new girl, and the next thing I know
    everyone is using her except me. They'll never figure you out,
    they'll scour the agencies looking for the girl I've been
    photographing, but never find her!" She laughed, we all did. It
    was pretty sly.

    "Seduce the camera." Daisy instructed me, "You're a girl;
    remember that, look at this camera like you've always dreamed a
    girl would look at you."

    As she said, it took all day. But in the end, she was satisfied
    she had some usable material.

    "I'm going to the dark room." Daisy told us, "Francine, help
    Abby clean himself up. Tomorrow at 9 AM, people."

    Somehow I had the idea that Francine's hands were finding excuses
    to touch me; she sort of stroked my neck as she cleaned the
    makeup from my face, she stroked my hands slightly as she removed
    the fingernails. She lifted the dress I wore for the second half
    of the shoot over my head, and her hands caressed my body as they
    passed.

    My hard on bulged embarrassingly through my underwear. She
    looked pointedly at my crotch.

    "Do you need some help with that, honey?" She asked.

    Francine was a Hispanic looking woman, with slim hips and
    generous if not very large breasts. She was slightly taller than
    me. I have to admit that spending the day with these two women
    fussing over me had left me in need of release. I was looking
    forward to going home and masturbating while thinking of Daisy.

    Francine wasn't unattractive; she was just... large. This older
    woman wanted my cherry, she'd asked me for it. My heart felt
    like it would pound its way out of my chest, I was so excited and
    afraid. I'd never even taken a girl out on the real date, I
    wasn't ready for this. I was just about to finally decline her
    kind offer, when her hand slowly encompassed my cock through my
    underwear. I felt myself go a bit stiff; I enjoyed her touches
    on my body earlier, but this was 20 times stronger, this was
    overtly sexual, this was irresistible.

    "You sit back, baby. Let Francine take care of this for you."
    She whispered huskily.

    She had a lovely mouth I observed, as I watched it encompass my
    cock. I'd never felt anything like this, I'd never even imagined
    anything like this; the warm friendly moisture of her mouth, the
    perfect pressure of her tongue and lips against my penis made me
    helpless; she could do at she liked with me, dress me as a girl,
    a dog, an elephant, I didn't care. I never knew that such
    pleasure could be. I came, I came so hard it hurt for hours
    afterwards. Francine's black tresses looked out from between my
    fingers as I held her face at my crotch, looking down into her
    big brown eyes.

    The second day went essentially as the first, but there was an
    intangible extra in the atmosphere of the studio; a secret
    sexiness.

    Daisy photographed the vibrations as though they were light. It
    was her art, her profession. I was amazed when I saw the
    photographs; that sexy woman couldn't be me; in fact, it wasn't
    me. It was an image created on top of mine. It was photographer's
    fantasy; at first.

    Daisy left that evening after the shoot, and Francine begged me
    to come home with her. As I was.

    "I can't go out like this, Francine!" I told her. I was still
    frightened of her, frightened of what she'd done to me. Francine
    had made me a girl, and she'd made me a man. I knew she wanted
    more; it must be fun to suck a boy's virgin dick, but I knew that
    she wanted me to go all the way with her. I might be ready, I was
    thinking, but as a male.

    "But Abby, no one will recognize you. Don't you trust me? Come
    on, let's go back to my place. I'll fix you some dinner, and we
    can have some fun."

    She wrapped her arms around me, and stroked my head. Her thigh
    pressed against my stiff cock, her breasts against my chest; my
    adolescent libido couldn't refuse her a thing.

    I didn't realize we'd have to take the bus.

    I was nearly shivering in fear at first, but no one seemed to
    take much notice of us. A couple of men looked at me strangely;
    then I realized that they were flirting with me. I didn't know
    what to think, so I didn't think at all.

    Francine fed me, as she promised, then we sat on the couch and
    stroked each other and kissed for awhile. She reached under my
    dress, and stroked my hard on; I opened her blouse, and ran my
    hands over a pair of breasts for the first time.

    Finally, we went to her bed; her body wasn't what I'd fantasized
    of, but she was a woman, a woman who wanted me.

    My school was filled with girls my age, 15, 16, and 17-year-old
    girls with tiny hips and big breasts; perfect complexions and the
    vitality of youth. But they didn't want me, Francine did. And
    Francine got me.

    We made love into the night; I came early, but stayed hard. I
    never had a large penis, but she seemed happy with it. I made
    her come more than once, and she held me in her arms with more
    affection than I'd never known.



    Some weeks later, they wanted me again.

    Francine had wanted me several times in between, and had had me,
    too.

    It was an outdoor shoot this time, on location. The company the
    first photographs had been for had been very pleased, and wanted
    to do a whole series of advertisements.

    As I accepted my fantasy feminine role, I began to enjoy it. I
    was playing being a girl, a photo model; I smiled and pranced,
    twirled and flirted with the camera. People stopped to watch; I
    was embarrassed at first, but soon gained confidence. We were
    far from where I lived, and no one, no one would ever recognize
    me. No one would think that skinny blond kid Abraham could be
    this glamorous model.

    The company wanted video of me, they wanted to do a TV spot;
    Daisy insisted that she would be in charge. Of course the film
    crew didn't like that, but they had no choice; no one knew who I
    was. I sure wasn't going to tell them.

    And whenever we could, Francine and I would be bonking away,
    usually at her place. We didn't love each other, that was
    accepted; but there was a great affection between us, and we both
    just loved to do it. I trusted her; some people would say she
    abused that trust, that she destroyed any possibility I had of
    living a normal life. But I love what I've become, what she
    helped me to become.

    It was Francine who told me how easy it would be to get the
    hormones over the Internet; Francine who pointed out that at my
    age, I could choose my gender. I could become what I was
    pretending to be.

    I was amazed at how quickly the transformation began; I suppose a
    lot of it was just placebo effect, but I felt more and more
    girlish. My tiny male nipples started to puff outwards, my
    breasts began to grow.

    Of course, my mother noticed; how could anyone not notice? I
    tried to keep her from finding out for as long as I could, until
    there wasn't much she could do about it. I was a girl, I looked
    like a girl, I talked like a girl, I walked like a girl. She
    thought it was just a passing thing, a little fantasy that was
    being encouraged by the film crew. When she found out about the
    breasts and the hormones, she cried.

    Of course I felt bad about that, but I didn't want to go back. I
    had the attention I always wanted, I was desirable.

    "But I'm so happy like this, Mom; I love being a girl. Couldn't
    you just accept me as a daughter?"

    My mother prides herself on her liberalism, but accepting my
    transformation stretched it to the utter limit.

    Boys asked me out, men held doors for me. Everyone melted when I
    smiled at them, it was glorious.

    Of course, there was still a cock between my legs. I found I was
    becoming less interested in Francine, and more interested in men.

    She knew it would happen; she knew that our relationship was
    transient. She knew I was too beautiful to keep. She knew about
    the effect of the hormones; Francine's given name at birth had
    been Francis.

    I decided I wouldn't be going back to school in the fall; the
    gender issue made it almost impossible. And besides, I was in
    demand. Not nationally or anything, but the company I'd done the
    first advertisements for were making a lot of sales; I'm not
    saying that's because I was their cover girl, but it could have
    been. Everyone loves a winner, and they commissioned another
    series of television and print advertisements.

    The whole crew was invited to the house of the company director;
    a big victory party when the new sales figures were announced.

    There must have been a hundred people there, the executives and
    sales staff as well as we advertising people. The boss was
    around 50 years old, a fit handsome 50, though.

    He flirted with me; all men flirt with me. He was the boss, I
    flirted back. He put his arm around me, and showed me his house.
    He was a charming bastard, and I guess I must've let it happen;
    but somehow, we were alone. In a quiet room in one corner of his
    large home, away from my friends, away from his wife. His arm
    slipped around my waist again, pulling me against his strong old
    frame; causing waves of excitement and fear to run through me.
    No one knew except Daisy and Francine, no one.

    I looked up at him; his eyes regarded me with desire and
    amusement.

    "I've wanted you since I first saw your photograph." He told me.
    "What do you think of that?"

    "I don't know." I answered, trying to figure out what to do. He
    could cancel the whole campaign. Daisy and Francine, my best
    friends in the world, were depending on it; it was the break
    they'd been waiting for, they'd canceled other jobs, they could
    be ruined. And so of course, could I.

    The world is full of pretty faces, struggling to climb over each
    other to just make a living, never mind getting to the top.

    Otto could break me, or he could make me; he could do both.

    The hand slid up my back, under my [by now] long blond hair, to my neck;
    with his thumb under my left ear, and his forefinger under my
    right, he held my head steady as he bent to kiss me.

    I had never kissed a man; not a whole man. I'd kissed Francine,
    but Francine was a woman when I did that. His lips struck mine
    like lightning striking a pine. It ignited a fire where I never
    even knew there was fuel.

    I felt my cock stiffen; fortunately, I was wearing a special
    restraint that I had gotten that kept it tucked under my ass
    while I was wearing thin tight dresses.

    Otto's strong arms held my young body tightly, and my arms went
    around him involuntarily. I wanted so badly to be a woman, I
    wanted so badly to be held and loved, to be cherished, protected,
    cared for.

    What a fantasy, what a dream; a big strong handsome rich man held
    me his arms and kissed me.

    Ah, but he was three times my age and married. And I had a small
    inconsistency in my anatomy that just might spook most men.

    But there was nothing to be done; he was as strong as an oak
    tree, and not only physically. He was a man who was used to
    being obeyed; how could I refuse him? And yet, how could I
    accommodate him?

    I felt the zipper of my dress descending down my back, I felt his
    confident fingers on my young flesh. I stroked his strong gray
    head, wondering what I should do. He bit my lip, and I gave him
    some tongue. I must stop this, I knew I had to stop; but I
    couldn't, I wouldn't. Not yet. It was so wonderful to be a girl
    in a man's arms.

    My breasts weren't fully grown yet then, but he held them in his
    hands and murmured words of appreciation. He pushed me down onto
    the bed we had been sitting on, and kissed my nipples, sucked on
    them, cherished them.

    It was so amazing a feeling; to be loved as a girl, by a man. I
    was a virgin again, a virgin girl. Otto was the man I wanted, I
    thought, as his mouth sucked on my new nipples. I heard myself
    moan; I held his head in my arms, swept up by my desire.

    His hands started to move down to my ass; alarm bells began to
    ring in my befuddled skull, if he reached into the crack between
    my firm young buns, he would find my small but hard cock strapped
    there. My hands went to his belt; the only possible defense was
    offense. The only way I could prevent him from finding my cock
    was to find his first.

    It was big, bigger than mine at least. It was hot in my hands,
    and hard. Big blue veins ran down its length, and his balls were
    bigger and hairier than I'd thought was possible. My mouth
    watered involuntarily, and a thrill ran through me; a cock, a
    real man's penis. I reveled in my desire, the desire of a woman
    for a man. To suck him, pleasure him, serve him.

    A light push from my slim manicured hand pushed the large man
    flat onto the bed. I smiled at him seductively, and removed his
    shoes. I basked in his admiration and massaged his feet for a
    short time before pulling off his trousers and underwear.

    He spread his legs, and slowly I crawled towards the center of
    his sensuality. His big stiff penis was laying against his flat
    stomach. I gently ran my hand from his balls to the tip of his
    shaft and back again; I wrapped my fingers around it, feeling the
    power of it in my palm. I looked up at his face; his grin was
    infectious, and I had to grin back. I longed to feel it in my
    mouth, nearly as much as he longed for it to be there; I was a
    girl who loved giving head, I thought to myself, a girl who loved
    to please. I opened my mouth, without breaking eye contact with
    my benefactor and lover, I slowly lowered my mouth over his hot
    potency.

    The sensation was more wonderful than I had imagined. I could
    sense his power, I could feel his sexuality through my mouth. To
    suck his cock was to know him, to know him as others couldn't.
    It filled my mouth with its heat and desire, its desire to fill
    me. I toyed with his balls as I sucked him deep, as deep as I
    could. I'd never done this before, but I'd had it done. I knew
    how to please him.

    I broke off before he came, and licked up and down his shaft,
    letting it cool slightly; I sucked his hairy balls into my mouth
    before resuming.

    It was so odd to feel his body tensing, as my mine always did for
    Francine; to feel his balls move as his fluids were drawn into
    the passage that led through the center of his hot manhood, to my
    lips.

    The hot salty viscous fluid flooded my mouth, for the first time.
    It was glorious, it was joy. I had brought a man to orgasm, and
    not just any man, either. A rich powerful man was giving me his
    seed, and I wanted it. His body was bucking involuntarily, and I
    held my mouth over his cock until the last drop was delivered to
    me. I ran my thumb up the base of his shaft, milking the last
    drop from him. I looked him in the eye as the warm sperm slid
    down my throat.

    It was an act of submission and humiliation, yet filled with
    power. While I held his hard manly cock, he was mine.

    I was afraid I'd feel some revulsion at what I'd done, but I
    never did. I always loved it, from that first time with Otto.

    There was silence for a moment after the action stopped. Then he
    said that we'd better get back to the party.

    Of course I can never be a whole woman. I could have the
    operation, and then I would have a vagina. That would please
    most men who would like to be my lover; it would please me to be
    anatomically female, at least superficially.

    On the other hand, there are men who will accept me as I am.
    There are men who love me as I am.

    My boyfriend loves to show me off to his friends. What a man he
    is, to have won a woman with looks like mine.

    And secretly, in our bedroom, he loves to suck my dick. I'm
    every man's secret desire, androgynous, a beautiful woman with a
    penis.

    And they fuck me; I love it when a man fucks me.

    Otto was the first.

    He wouldn't leave me alone after that blowjob. He was always
    lurking around the set, trying to get me alone. Finally, Daisy
    had to do something. She told him the truth.

    We didn't see him for a while; the contract had already been
    signed, and after all, our work was earning him money.

    But then he phoned me.

    "I'd like to see you, Abby." He told me.

    "Are you sure?" I asked him, confused. Daisy had told him,
    hadn't she?

    "Yes. I'm going to New York on the weekend. Would you like to
    come along?"

    How could I refuse? Did he really know? New York!

    I met him at the airport. Naturally, we traveled first-class.
    It was something I would become accustomed to.

    The hotel was fabulous, a dream come true. Glamour, style,
    beauty; this was the life. I wondered then whether I could have
    this and keep my penis as well. Had Daisy really told him? I
    wished I'd succeeded in getting through to her before leaving
    home.

    Otto took me shopping for clothes and shoes. He bought me a
    lovely pair of pearl earrings. We had dinner in a magnificent
    restaurant. Everyone could see he was my sugar daddy. I didn't
    mind; in fact, I loved it. They were just jealous, jealous of
    him for his ability to bed a young beautiful girl, jealous of me
    for my beauty and my willingness to trade it for what I wanted.

    "This will be a first for me." He said as we got back to our
    room.

    "For me as well." I answered him quietly. I can't say I wasn't
    afraid; I was terrified. I'd been a virgin before, and now I was
    a virgin again. I was willing to suck his cock again, I was
    dying to suck his cock again; but he would want more this time.
    It was inevitable.

    He undressed me gently, finely revealing my white little penis
    standing stiff in front of me. He caressed it gently in his
    strong hand; he kissed me on the mouth, lifted me from my feet,
    and placed me on the bed. I watched as he undressed, admiring
    the thick white curly hair on his powerful chest, his thick arms
    and long legs. His gorgeous dick.

    We kissed and stroked each other for a time, our thighs
    intertwined, our penises sliding across each other, my female
    breasts against his masculine chest.

    I was shocked when he put his head between my legs, and started
    to suck my cock. It felt wonderful physically, but it blew my
    illusion of him; real men don't suck cock, do they? I've given
    up on that idea now, I love to make men suck my cock now, but
    back then I wanted to be a girl, and be loved by a real man. Of
    course that wasn't possible.

    The second night we were there, he fucked me. How could I refuse
    him? He'd bought my plane ticket, put me up in a first-class
    hotel, wined and dined me, bought me gifts. He'd treated me like
    a lady, and sucked my cock until I came in his mouth.

    When his gentle massage began to concentrate more and more on my
    tight little ass, when his finger violated the sanctity of my
    annus, I'd just waited for the inevitable.

    I felt the penis move down the crack of my ass, I felt the tip of
    it push against the point of my vulnerability. His strong hands
    pulled me open as his powerful sex organ slowly penetrated my
    body.

    Gently, carefully, the big tool spread me open, pleasuring itself
    with me.

    There was pain; but I accepted the pain, knowing that it was just
    a stumbling block on the road to pleasure.

    His hands pushed my shoulders against the mattress as his greased
    cock slid in and out of me with surprising ease. There was a
    burning sensation, and he grunted with satisfaction and fucked
    me.

    Finally, my sugar daddy climaxed behind me. I was too afraid to
    enjoy it the first time, except by proxy. It pleased me that
    he'd done it to me, it pleased me that he'd wanted me.

    After returning home, I never heard from him again. "My wife
    wouldn't understand." He'd said.

    I wanted so desperately to have those feelings again; to be
    wanted, to be held and cherished. But it was very difficult. I
    was still under age, and if I wanted to have a future, I had to
    keep the truth of my gender from getting out.

    I flirted, I dated; it was nice to be romanced by men, taken out
    for dinner, dancing, shows. I loved to be held and kissed, to
    share soft little touches of affection. I loved to give them
    blowjobs, but of course I could never let them undress me below
    the waist, let alone touch me where I so desperately wanted to be
    touched.

    Since it was the only sex I could have, sucking cock became what
    I did; it was my art form. I would crawl over my man, suck his
    nipples, rub his dick over my big firm breasts. My tongue was my
    brush, and his dick the canvas; I couldn't get enough. Big hard
    manly cocks; big ones, small ones, young ones, old ones, black
    and white ones. I didn't dare stay too long with a boyfriend. A
    few dates, a few loads of delicious white "Man chowder", and then
    move on.

    It was a sad and lonely stage of my life, since I was denied any
    direct satisfaction.

    So I just concentrated on getting what I could. I loved the Big
    Load; the bigger the better. I wanted spunk, I wanted to feel my
    lover's orgasm hot and thick shooting into my mouth.

    I used to tease them for up to an hour before bringing them off,
    bringing them close to the edge before letting them back again. I
    like to suck cock with a little thick cream, or sometimes ice
    cream.

    Usually, I dated older guys. They knew how to treat a lady [and
    would treat me the same, not knowing any better], and could
    afford to take me to nice places.

    But I seduced a few boys my own age as well; it was always a
    challenge to keep them from coming, but when they did, it was
    always plentiful and tasty.

    When I turned 18, I could get into the one tranny club in the
    area; at last, I could just be myself. I didn't have to lie
    anymore, the men who went there knew the score.

    I could dace and flirt in there, and if I liked someone, let him
    take me somewhere where we could be alone.

    Of course, anal sex is the most dangerous thing you can do after
    jumping out of tall buildings without a parachute, we had to use
    special condoms to make it safe. But at last I could be touched
    all over, I could enjoy the wonderful feeling of a man fondling
    my genitals as we kissed and made love.



    I'm earning well from my modeling work now, and I've been offered
    some small television roles. I don't need a sugar daddy any
    more, but I have one anyway.

    Just for fun.

    Bigby 2002

    This story is a prequel for "My dream girl with a dick"



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