A Force Of Habit
By Jessica Drew
Originally Posted On Fictionmania
Chapter 18
Carl stepped into the red mini-dress, pulling it up over his pert breasts, threading his slender arms through the spaghetti shoulder straps. He wiggled his wide hips as he pulled the short hem down over his wide hips and backside.
He checked his appearance in the full-length mirror, sweeping his long brunette hair over his shoulders. Heather would be home from the office soon and he needed to look his best for when she arrived home. He pouted his lips as he carefully applied a red scarlett lipstick. Smacking his lips, Carl returned the tube to the dresser table, his red high-heeled pumps clacking as he walked. He then sat down onto the edge of the bed, his wide backside splaying outwards beneath his tight dress. He opened his diary and took his pen in his slender feminine hand as he updated it with the events of the past few days.
Carl thought back to when Heather had turned up at his office. She had used the transformation stone on them both, turning them both into a perfect copy of the other. Then Heather had taken on a much darker personality, forcefully taking him over his desk, before getting him escorted out of his own building. That had been two days ago.
He had been left with Heather's body ever since. He had been too frightened and too weak to be able stop her. She would get him to dress in provocative clothing and engage in unspeakable sex acts at every opportunity. All the while she had used blackmail, saying that she would never turn him back into a man if he didn't comply with her wishes.
Heather had even gone to work in his place, dressing in his finest suits, posing as him the whole time. Carl felt helpless. He couldn't exactly go to the authorities. Who would believe him?
Carl heard the front door opening downstairs. Heather was home. Sighing Carl closed his diary and stood up, smoothing his red mini-dress, before making his way downstairs to greet her.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Ahhhhh, that's it, suck my cock."
Carl looked up at Heather as he bobbed his head, sliding his lips up and down Heather's thick penis. Heather had rung him from the office earlier that day, instructing him what to wear, and how she was to be greated when she got home. Again, non-compliance meant that he would remain a woman forever.
Carl closed his eyes, sucking harder, his hands resting on the back of Heather's muscular thighs.
"Mmmmmm, my little cock-sucking slut...."
Since their swap, Heather had started calling him names. Abusive, sexist, insulting. Everything. He didn't understand why. It was like she had a hatred of women, yet how was that possible when she was one herself? At least she had been up until a few days ago. Now she was very much a virile, sex-driven man.
And as for Carl? He was very much a frightened, abused woman. His
breasts and vagina ached from all the rough sex that he had had to endure with Heather.
Carl sucked harder, desperate to get the act over with. He soon felt Heather tense, and then groan as she began pumping streams of sticky cum into his mouth. Carl swallowed as he had been told to, tasting every drop of Heather's salty semen.
"Good girl...." Heather groaned, stroking her hands through Carl's long brunette hair.
Carl looked up, wiping his lips with his hand. He was glad he had pleased her.
* * * * * * * * * *
Carl furiously scribbled in his diary, using the light from his bedside lamp, as he recounted the day's events. He nervously looked over at Heather, making sure that she was still asleep. When he was confident that she was, Carl continued writing.
"You really shouldn't bother," Heather spoke as she sat up beside Carl. Carl gasped with shock. "By tomorrow you won't even remember who you used to be. You'll just be Heather, a useless little whore. So how about we get rid of anything that says otherwise?"
Carl watched helplessly as Heather snatched the diary away from his small hands. With one fierce tear, she ripped all the pages from the front of the diary clean away, screwing them up in her hands.
"Heather, No!" Carl pleaded.
"Don't call me that!" Heather barked, "Call me Carl. And you, from now on you will answer to Heather."
"Yes..... Carl," Carl responded helplessly as Heather rolled back over, pulling the bed covers back around her masculine body.
* * * * * * * * * *
The present day...
Mikayla reached the end of the torn out, screwed up pages of the diary, her hands shaking. She couldn't take much more of this. It was too, too much. Combining the information with the pages she had already read, the full extent of her mother and father's relationship began to become clear.
It wasn't Carl all along. The man upstairs, who had locked his own daughter into the basement, he wasn't her father at all. He was really Heather O'Brien.
She had stolen Carl's life, turning him into her, and herself into him. Eventually it seems that Carl no longer knew any different, and fully believed that he had always been a woman named Heather. Heather had
treated her transformed father abysmally, abusing him at every opportunity. But why? Where did all this aggression and hatred spring from?
Mikayla gasped as she thought of Daniel. He had certainly been cagey about the details of when he had been alone with Carl. Knowing what she now knew, Mikayla could only imagine what might have happened to him during that time. It would go some way to explaining how angry and distant he had been towards her at school.
And then there was yesterday morning, she thought she had seen Daniel as a girl, running through the school corridors. If it had been him, then Daniel was in great danger! She had to find him. She had to find him before it was too late. If what had happened to her father was anything to go by, Daniel might soon forget that he was even a boy at all!
Mikayla stood up, fierce determination in her eyes as she looked around the dank basement for a way out. The windows along the top of the far wall served only to let some light in, they were thick glass and could not be opened. Taking a deep breath Mikayla closed her eyes. She concentrated as hard as she could, an ominous creaking now coming from the far wall. Then, with a mighty crash, the basement windows exploded
outwards. Oh my god, she had done it!
Knowing there was no time to lose before Carl came to investigate the noise, Mikayla dragged the large trunk she had been sitting on over to the far wall. She stepped up onto it and after several attempts managed to jump up and pull herself through the small broken windows. Her school jersey caught on a jagged peice of glass and tore along the arm as she pulled herself free.
Gasping Mikayla ran across the front lawn and down the road towards the train station, her long brunette hair trailing behind her.
* * * * * * * * * *
By the time Mikayla reached the Jennings household she was exhausted. She stopped for a second, her hands on her knees wheezing. She looked up, shielding her eyes from the morning sun. She had spent all night locked in that awful basement.
Composing herself Mikayla walked up the driveway towards the house, vaguely noticing that the family car appeared to have a scratch all along one side. She rang the doorbell and waited.
The door was answered by Mrs. Jennings. She stood about the same height as Mikayla, had an athletic body and her blonde hair was worn behind her in a tight ponytail. Mikayla smiled as warmly as she could.
"Hi is Danielle there?"
"Danielle? Why of course, why don't you come in."
...continued in Chapter 19
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