Gromet's PlazaErotic Stories

My Odyssey Part 6: Miss Sims by As narrated

by Anne-Marie to Tony B

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2008 - Anne-Marie to Tony B - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF/m; bodymod; MF/f; bond; sub; cons; X

(story continues from )

My Odyssey

As narrated by Anne-Marie Killamajiian,
Wife of Ahmed, of the House of Mustaffa, the Diamond Merchant

Warning: This story involves bondage, consensual sex, domination, coercion, sex changes, sexual slavery, rape, and other jiggery-pokery. It is entirely fictional, and is intended as entertainment for adults only. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or to any location or activity is purely coincidental. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. (As if anybody ever is!)

Note: If you would like to contact the authoress to make a comment, you may contact Anne through Tony-B who originally published it as "My Story". She hopes you enjoy reading her story. Tony would also appreciate your comments. We will endeavor to answer all emails.

RECAP: In Part 5, Doctor Bulieu described more fully what was going to be involved in Jim’s transition, and started him wearing women’s clothes. The surgery would be that night!

Part 6: Miss Sims

He guided me back to his office as I explored the floor, every foot of the way. As we entered, he guided me to the center of the room, directly facing his desk, and told me to stand there, with my arms straight down at my sides. There wasn’t any hint of malice in his voice, but I knew exactly what he wanted me to do. So I just stood there with my eyes lowered, just looking at the floor and counting the tiles.

He walked around his desk and sat in that big, overstuffed, leather chair. Pressing a button on his intercom, I heard him say, “Please send Miss Sims to my office.”

A female voice answered, “Right away, sir.” Did he have obedient nurses, too, I wondered?

I stood there in silence as a couple of minutes passed before we heard a light knock at the door.

“Come in, Miss Sims”, he called out. – How did he know it was her??? The door opened, and she entered, closing it behind her. I couldn’t see her yet, but I did catch a whiff of her perfume. A Gardenia scent, I think.

“Miss Sims, this is Anne Bentley, or he will be, shortly”, he said. He was using the ‘he and she’ pronouns almost interchangeably. “Anne, you may look at Miss Sims.”

I raised my eyes slowly to see her face. She was tall, and shapely. A great figure of a woman, with a short, blonde hairdo. Ruby red lips – the kind you’d swim through a river of snot, just to kiss. She couldn’t have been much older than myself. Her makeup was subtle, but effectively showed the best features of her face. The long, straight nose, the high cheekbones, and deep blue eyes. Her ears were pierced, and her lobes held silver hoop earrings in just the perfect position to frame her face. All in all, a remarkable woman.

“Miss Sims is a Physician Assistant, training to be a Doctor herself,” he said. “You will always address her as ‘Miss Sims’. Understood?”

“Yes, sir”, I replied.

“Okay,” he said, “Look down”.

I immediately diverted my gaze and resumed looking at the floor.

“Remove your clothes,” he continued, “so Miss Sims may examine you.”

How did I guess that this was coming? I reached down and grabbed the hem of the tunic, and pulled it up, over my head. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I just stood there for a minute and held it.

Miss Sims spoke for the first time… “Give me your tunic, dear.”

I handed it to her as she reached toward me. Her nails were perfect. Bright red, and classically shaped ovals. I could see her feet now… open toed white shoes, and her toenails were also perfect, and painted the same color as her fingernails. She folded the tunic, and draped it over the back of a nearby chair.

“Take off your shorts and shoes, too”, she said.

I slipped out of my shoes, and pulled the shorts down my legs and off my feet. I stood there naked, in front of them. But I was getting used to being told to dress and undress… The guards at the jail had used that same phrase every day at shower time! Suddenly a light flashed on in my head… The word ‘dress’ was part of both ‘dress’ and ‘undress’. It was a natural part of the concept. And a ‘dress’ was the garment that most women wear most frequently. That could only mean that to dress and undress was the natural state for a woman, and I certainly didn’t have to worry about what was a natural part of living! “Wow!”, I thought….. “… what a mind blower!”

As I wondered at that, as Miss Sims walked around me, looking me over – examining me, if you prefer. I stood there naked, with my hands down at my sides. I started to blush at the thought of being looked over by this woman, without knowing exactly why. She totally ignored the bulge of my man-tool. Not that I had any sexual urges right then, anyway, but just because of the tool that was still attached in it’s rightful place.

She felt me here and there, squeezing a bit of skin, and the skin on my chest, then pinching my butt.

Finally, she gave the doctor her evaluation… “Yes,” she said. “His body has good potential. I don’t think we’ll have much trouble getting her down to size, and building her up where she needs a little help.” … I waited for the Doctor’s response.

“Sit down, dear”, she said.

I hesitated a moment, and he said sternly, “Do it”.

I looked around for the nearest place to sit, finding it in an office chair just to the left of his desk. I sat.

“Cross your legs, dear”, she said.

I followed her instruction, placing my right leg over the left as my flaccid penis slipped down between my legs.. I was sure they didn’t want me to rearrange it to a more comfortable position. … I continued to look at the floor, of course. – That was a given. I followed one instruction until it was cancelled by a new one. The instruction to look down was still in effect.

Taking a clipboard of papers from the doctor’s desk, she said, “I’m going to ask you a series of questions, now. Just answer me honestly, and we’ll get through it in no time.” She started out… “Have you ever had any communicable disease?”

“No”, I answered.

“Are you diabetic?” …

“No”, I answered, again.

“Ever had any trouble with your eyesight?”

“No”, I answered for the third time.

This went on for at least ten minutes as she checked off my answers on her chart, one by one, occasionally making a note in the margins on the chart.

Finally we were done. She moved the form to the back of the stack, and brought out the next one.

“Now we’ll find out what foods you like, and those that you don’t”, she said. “Just give me ‘yes’ or ‘no’ for each item. We’ll start with fresh fruits and vegetables.” …

“Apples?” …


“Apricots?” …


“Asparagus?” …


“Bananas?” …


“Broccoli?” …


This went on for another fifteen minutes. She went through every fruit, every vegetable, every type of meat, pastries and seafood’s that I’d ever heard of, or put in my mouth. We covered what beverages I liked, what desserts – even what kind of salad dressings I preferred.
It was an exhaustive list!

“Okay,” she said. “I understand you’re going to go to sleep for a while, so I’ll have a menu for you when you wake up. We can go over it and discuss getting you on a weight-reduction plan, then.” Saying that, she rose and without saying another word to the doctor, left the room.

“You did very well”, the doctor said. “I’m proud of you.”

It made me feel good that he was praising my responses to this extensive series of questions. I smiled to myself, but still kept my eyes lowered in his presence.

“Put your clothes back on”, he commanded.

I reached for them, but they was just out of reach. …

“You can get up to get them”, he said.

I did. Turning my back to him I pulled up the shorts and slipped the tunic over my head and ran my hand down the back to smooth it out over my hips and ass.

He rose and came around the desk. Taking my arm, he guided me toward the door again. "Come on. … It’s time for you to get some sleep.”

I knew what he meant. I knew the time had arrived. He was going to put me to sleep for three weeks. The next time I saw him, I'd have been changed into a woman! Okay, no big deal, I thought. But it WAS a big deal, and inwardly, I knew it. But I trusted him. I put my life and my future in his hands. This was a big moment in my life. There would be no turning back. The alternatives were too terrible to think about. I was going through with this, and will be coming out the other side, safe and secure in a new life. … I hoped!

He guided me back to my private room. As we entered the room, he told me to take off all my clothes and get into bed. I did so, but I still avoided looking at him I tried to hide my man-tool from him by turning onto my side.

“None of that”, he said. “Lie flat on your back and give me your arm.”

He opened a drawer in the white nightstand next to the bed, and took out what looked like a water pistol. Not a real gun, at least, but a fake one. … A fake gun of some kind.

“Goodnight, Princess”, he said, pressing the gun against my arm, and pulling the trigger.

“Pssst” It made the sound of air escaping – like when you first break the seal on a soda pop can. I looked at him, and he smiled. He had called me ‘princess’! Almost immediately, I drifted off to sleep.

THE AWAKENING: One is not born a woman, one becomes one…

I could hear someone talking. I was waking up, like I had, thousands of times before. Only this time, it seemed different. I was having to struggle to reach consciousness. It sounded as if the voices were coming closer. Was it my imagination? Was I dreaming? If I was, I wanted to wake up, now! I thought I heard someone say, “She’ll be here in a minute, now.” Sounded like they were talking about someone arriving shortly. I didn’t realize they were talking about me!

Beep! Beep! Beep! …

I could hear some kind of – something, beeping at me.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Suddenly, it was switched off, and I didn’t hear anything. I was having trouble getting my eyes to open. They seemed as if they wanted to stay shut. I couldn’t understand it. I’d never had this much trouble waking up, before.

“Psst!” I heard air escaping from somewhere. Or something. … Oh, yes, it was the pneumatic syringe. I remember, now.

Slowly my eyes opened, and I began to focus. I became aware that I was in a hospital of some sort. And a man was leaning over my bed, smiling down at me. I turned my head, and there was a woman. Who was it? Was it my mother? Nah, she was too young to be my mother. … A sister maybe? A friend? I didn't recognize her, but she must have liked me, she was smiling, too.

As I regained consciousness, it began coming back to me… where I was, and what was happening. Or what HAD happened, if everything had worked out alright. I remembered that I was a woman, now. I felt different between my legs, somehow. I wanted to reach down and feel myself to make sure that I was right. But my hands were immobilized. I couldn’t move them. I looked down and realized that I was strapped to the bed. - I couldn’t move my hands because they were strapped to the rails at the sides of the bed.

The man said, “Don’t be afraid, Anne. Everything is okay. I’ve had your hands tied down to prevent you from hurting yourself. I’ll untie you in a few minutes, so just relax and breathe deeply.”

His voice was reassuring, so I relaxed, and took some deep breaths.

“You came through the operation quite well. I’m very pleased with the results. We kept you under a few extra days so we could do some cosmetic work on your face, but that’s all over now.

“Can I see?”, I asked. My voice cracked as I spoke and it didn’t sound like me at all. It sounded like some other woman had spoken through my lips. I tried to clear my throat.

“Water,” I managed. “Can I have a glass of water?”

“Of course”, he said. He moved to the nightstand and poured a small glass half-full of water from a plastic bottle. He pressed a button on the side of the bed, and it raised my upper body and head to a semi-sitting position. He held the glass to my lips, and eagerly, I gulped it down.

“Whoa! Slow down”, he said. “Take it easy – you can have plenty of water whenever you want it.”

I repeated, “Can I see what you’ve done to my face?” My voice sounded better now. It was clearer, and had lost it’s huskiness. But it was still higher than before, as well as stronger.

“Not just yet”, he replied. “I want you to become accustomed to how your new body feels first, so you won’t be shocked by anything new.” … “I’m going to untie your right hand now, so you can feel around and satisfy yourself that all is well.”

He undid the strap that was holding my right hand and arm to the side of the bed. As he did, I slipped my hand under the sheet and down the front of my body to where my dick had been. It wasn’t there. I said to myself, well, that’s a good start. As I reached down further, I felt a thick bunch of bandages between my legs, preventing me from feeling whatever was down there.

I looked at him, expecting some explanation.

“Don’t worry, it’s all there, right where it should be. What you’re feeling is a diaper. We didn’t want you to mess your bed as you were waking up. The nurse will take it off in a little while. Meanwhile, check out your tits!”

He was smiling, so I trusted him. After all, he was the doctor. I brought my hand up to my chest to feel around, and was surprised to find two definite lumps that had never been there before. They were warm, and soft, and sensitive to the touch. Each one was topped by a hard , if small, nipple. But they were there, and I could definitely feel them. I raised the sheet with my free hand, and looked down at my chest. Well, there they were! At least they were starting to be there. The area around the nipples looked puffy. Each breast was about three inches across, and stuck out off my chest an inch or so. I wondered what they’d look like when I was standing up. Right now, they looked like a flattened tennis ball that had been cut in half and stuck onto my chest.

“They’ll be tender while they’re growing,” he said, “ but I’m sure you will learn to enjoy the new sensation it will go away in a few months.”

I noticed that I had also been given a manicure while I “slept”. The nails had been filed straight across, and were painted white at the tips. No, that isn’t quite right, - they were painted white under the tips. A coating of matte finished polish had been carefully applied to each nail on the top side. I think it’s called a “French Manicure”. Someone took a lot of time and effort to make them look nice. And my hands and fingers looked thinner.

“You’re an A-cup already”, he said. “And that’s after only three weeks, and a couple of days, of hormone shots! You may end up as a C-cup, but probably not larger than that, because of the size of your frame. A D-Cup would be too large for you.”

“It’s remarkable”, said the nurse. “You’re way ahead of schedule! We’re going to have so much fun – we’re going to be just like sisters. I have a lot to teach you about being a woman”, she gushed.

She reminded me of that dippy blond on the old Laugh-In TV show. Great looks, but no brains. But she seemed cheerful enough about it all. What was her name, now? I can’t seem to remember. At least the nurse was being useful … she was undoing the strap around my other wrist. In a moment, I’d have both hands free. But this wasn’t Miss Sims. She looked a bit like her – the bobbed blonde hairdo and all, but she seemed more open, more willing to be ‘girly’, than Miss Sims. Later on, I was to find that she too, was a changeling, and had once been a man. Well, boy, really. She had been changed when she was young. But I’m getting ahead of my story again. She looked to be in her early twenties. Later on, I learned that she was closer to 30, than she was to 20!

Beep-beep-beep went something in the doctor’s pocket. It was his pager going off. Well, I thought it was in his pocket. It really was attached to his belt. It was one of those little black pagers with a small screen on the side. He took it off his belt and pressed a red button on the top, which stopped the beeping signal.

He looked at the screen a moment, scowled, and said, “Come along Betty, we have something to take care of.”

Aha! So her name was Betty. … Betty something. Well, I’ll find out more about her in a while. She reattached my wrists to the sides of the bed, and secured the straps. She pulled on them a bit to make sure they were tight, but not too tight. There would be no escape, and no more exploring for a while.

She leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Just relax, Anne. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I took that to mean that everything had turned out okay, and she would be keeping me company later in the day. She pushed a button on the side of the bed, causing it to recline to a horizontal position again, and pulled the sheet up to cover my exposed breasts, and turned to leave. Over her shoulder, she smiled and said, “Don’t go away, now.” As she smiled, she left the room, pleased with her own little joke. …

As if I could! Leave, I mean. I couldn’t even move my hands to scratch my nose – or anything else that itched right now.

I closed my eyes, thinking it was time to take a nap. The doctor still hadn’t let me look at my new face!

Just then, a man I didn’t know, entered the room.

“Good morning, Miss Bentley, I’m Henry”, he said. He was carrying a small plastic bowl, half full of water. Setting it down on the nightstand, he turned and smiled at me.

I struggled a bit so he could see I was still strapped to the bed.

“Relax, Miss Bentley”, he said. “I’m not going to hurt you, just wash you up a bit. We want the area of your surgery to be kept clean so it will fully heal without any complications.”

I struggled against the straps once more as he reached for the sheet. … As his grip tightened on it, he asked, “May I call you Anne?”

What more did this man want? What was he going to do to me while I lay here helpless and virtually naked under the sheet. “Yes, I guess so”, I managed. – Might as well get used to it, I thought.

He pulled the sheet down, exposing my body to his gaze. I wasn’t sure I wanted him touching my body – especially down there.

“I see they haven’t removed your diaper yet. I’ll take care of that.”

I stiffened in apprehension as he reached for the diaper.

“Just relax, Anne – I’m really not going to hurt you. I’ve been washing you every day, since the night they brought you in here.”, he said. “And I know what you look like down there…”

My face flushed, turning red. “I didn’t know that”, I stammered. “ I thought a nurse had been washing me.”

He removed the diaper by ripping it down both sides at the hip and pulling it out from under my butt. “I have been. … And I am a nurse”, he protested. “It’s a common misperception that all nurses are women.”

“No, I meant a female nurse”, I volunteered.

“Oh. We only have a few of those here. It was I who washed you up that first night!”

So there went my memory of that first night and the beautiful nurse that had stripped me, washed me, put me to bed, and had paid particular attention to my lost manhood. Damn drugs!

“I have to pee”, I managed.

“Certainly, Anne. I’ll take care of that, too.” He turned and went to the nightstand by the bed. Opening a drawer, he took out a plastic bottle with what looked like a funnel attached to the top. The bottle was a milky plastic – and except for the funnel, looked like an empty milk bottle.

He reached down and using one hand, spread my labia apart. “Spread your legs”, was all he said. I did as I was told. With his other hand, he pressed the funnel end of the bottle firmly against my new vagina! “Go ahead, Anne. … Let her rip!”

I tried to relax my bladder muscles. But the flow didn’t start. I had to hold my breath and push down a little, to get the flow started. When it did, the urine just gushed out of my bladder into the milk bottle. Once it started, I wasn’t sure I could get it to stop. In fact, I couldn’t. I didn’t know it then, but my bladder muscles weren’t strong enough to start and stop the flow on their own. Or if they were, I just didn’t know how to control them yet. I wouldn’t be able to stop the flow until my bladder was entirely empty.

He could see I was under some duress, and said, “Just take it easy, Anne. It’ll all feel more natural as you learn to exercise the pubococcygeal muscles in and around your pelvic girdle.”

Boy, he was clinical!

“We have some training exercises for you to follow, which will also tighten your thighs, buttocks, and abdominal muscles. Tightening the muscles in the pelvic area will also improve your sexual pleasure. The exercises are popularly known as ‘Kegel exercises’.”

It was finally over – I had fully emptied the contents of my bladder into the milk bottle. - It was almost half full! Waiting a moment to make sure I was done, he continued to press the funnel against my vagina. Finally, sure that I was done, he removed the bottle, capped it, and took a piece of toilet paper to wipe me off.

He put his hand between my legs again, and holding my labia open, wiped the opening of my vagina from back to front. I closed my eyes in embarrassment at the thought of this man cleaning me up like this, of touching my most intimate parts, but I was still tied down, and he wasn’t. …

“This is how to do it properly”, he offered. “Just start between the rectum and vagina, and wipe forward.”

I knew that! I had been watching women pee, all my life. Well, most of it, anyway. Or at least that was what I seemed to remember. “Front side forward, backside backwards.” I remembered my mother teaching me that. … My mother … I couldn’t quite remember what she looked like. That didn’t worry me, I was sure I’d remember it before long, as I fully regained my memory. I vaguely thought that I might have been in a car accident, and that I was in the hospital. … No, that didn’t seem right… Oh, well, it’ll come to me.

“Can you untie me?”, I asked.

“No, sweetie – only the doctor can untie you, or tell someone else to do it. I’d be in serious trouble if I untied you before he said you were ready. Have you seen your new face, yet?” he asked.

“No”, I said. “The Doctor was called away just before he was going to show me.”

“Well, you have nothing to worry about there,” he said. “You’re very pretty! But right now, I have to wash you up … I have other things to take care of this morning. – I’ve got to milk a cow”, he volunteered, smiling.

I didn’t know exactly what he meant by that! …

Dipping the washrag into the warm water, he said, “I have a new sensation for you this morning. … I’m going to wash your genitals. Spread your legs again.”

I followed his instruction to the letter spreading them as far as I could, given the width of the bed and the rails that were designed to keep patients from falling over the edge.

As he pressed the washrag into my genital area, I found it was nice and warm. Not too hot, not too cold, but just right! Suddenly, I remembered that line from Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Well, not exactly that line, but almost…

He carefully washed me, all around, even pushing the washrag between my cheeks to make sure my backside was totally clean. He finally finished and taking a small towel, he wiped me dry..

“Close your legs now.” …

Again, I followed his instructions – I was getting in the habit of doing whatever I was told. I liked the feeling of being told what to do. …

“You may not have full control of your bladder for a couple of days, so I’m going to put another diaper on you for the time being. …”, he said.

Opening the bottom nightstand drawer, he took out a pair of blue paper panties, and held them up where I could see them. “You see the dark blue threads on this side? Those show you which side is the front. Now raise your feet so I can slip it up your legs.”

I followed his instruction, raising only one foot at a time, as he slid the diaper up my legs.

“Okay,” he said, now raise your hips.”

I put both feet down on the bed and raised my hips so he could slide the diaper onto me. It seemed a little big, and was especially bulky between my legs. My guess was that it contained a pad of some sort to catch the urine if I accidentally lost control.

“See, Anne? Easy as pie”, he said. … He nodded his head and said under his breath, - I could barely hear him - “Yes, very pretty indeed!.”

With that still ringing in my ears, he turned, gathered up his things and left me to wonder about it.

Next week, Anne gets to know Nurse Betty, who will be her companion and guide on this trip.


story continues in


If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!
back to
erotic stories