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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