Woman by Witchcraft

By: Sapphire
© 1980-2003

Chapter Five  

By the time Pat got home, his mother was already gone.  He concluded that she was probably out  shopping.  The aching in his back was now constant, so he retired to his room  to don one of his now, too small bras.  The compression of his sensitive chest by the out of size bra was uncomfortable to the point of pain, but the support while walking around, and even going back down the stairs was a relief.  Pulling a light sweater over his feminized upper body for modesty, he went to the dining room and started to study for his upcoming finals.              

Much later in the afternoon, Cassy finally showed up. Entering the living room heavily ladened, she deposited an armload of packages on the sofa, and returned to the car for another load before she sat down and started to talk to Pat. 

"This had better stop soon, it's getting kind of expensive," she stated, as she started to empty the bags. The first bag held only bras.  Five bras in five colors, light green, light blue, white, peach and black.  The next couple of packages held a complete set of women's blouses in a great variety of colors. 

"Why the shirts, Mom?" 

"Don't ask stupid questions, Pat. You can't fit into your old ones  anymore, can you?" 

"I guess not." was his dejected response.

Looking at the suddenly enlarged wardrobe, Pat noticed some extremely feminine blouses, with ruffles, lace, puffed sleeves, and silk!

 "You don't expect me to wear these, do you?" he challenged her. 

"Well... I sort of got carried away, and they were so pretty, and, well, you never know..." 

"Oh yes, I know!  I know there is no way!" 

"Suit yourself, but right now, go to your room and put on your new black dress slacks, and these," she said, handing him a white bra and white blouse, "We're going out to dinner tonight.  I was too busy shopping for you to fix anything.  Oh, by the way, don't think about borrowing anything from your sister, she is at least a size smaller than you in the chest." 

The black slacks that she picked were one of Pat's favorites; he had  picked them out himself not two months ago. At the time, he thought the tight ass and loose lower leg made him look (and feel) a bit macho.  But with the simple white blouse on top, it had an entirely different effect.  The blouse wasn't the most plain of the bunch.  It wasn't the most  feminine, either.  The collar was rounded and lightly scalloped, and the shoulders were slightly puffed. Lastly, there was a thin ribbon of ruffles down the front, covering the buttons, and on each cuff as well.  If that were not distressing enough, the bra showed through.  

Looking in the mirror set Pat's stomach churning. There, looking back at him was a masculine girl, (or a feminine boy?). Yes, It was definitely a girl with a chest like that.  Boy, oh boy, oh boy, what was he going to do now?  How could he face his teachers or his friends, or, what would Sharon think?

Well all of that has to be dealt with in the future.  Right now he has to finish getting ready for dinner with his mother.  He pulled his hair into the same ponytail as he was accustomed, but in these clothes, it clearly added to the unsettling effect.

Just then the horn beeped, interrupting his consternation, and he rushed out to the car without another thought. The trip to the restaurant was comfortable enough. And the clothes, he was SO aware of the clothes.  The clothes seemed more comfortable than his usual fare, adding to his confusion.  He was thankful the ride was spent in relative silence.

But his self-serving pity-party was ended when his mother pulled up in front of the Braxton House, the most exclusive restaurant in the city.

"Why are we eating here?" Pat demanded.  "We haven’t come here twice in my life, and tonight when I am at my worst, you bring us here?"

Soothingly, his mother offered, "If you are going to be treated well anywhere, you should receive the most polite attention and proper courtesies here; and it is quiet with not too many people.  Would you rather we skip over to Burger Burner; and eat at the booth, with all the people from school?  Or at Mrs. Pastione’s Ristorante with the members of our church or our neighbors?"

"I---I guess you’re right mom.  I was just surprised.  I think this is so expensive.

A valet came to each door, and upon opening them, offered the two passengers a courteous exit from the car to the Restaurant’s covered walkway.  A doorman immediately snapped to attention and silently opened the massive oak door ushering them to the protection of the air conditioned foyer.

The Maitre D’ bowed slightly and acknowledged their names (how did he do that? Pat wondered.)  and bade them to follow him to a dining spot.  A second and younger gentleman rushed ahead; and the two men gently moved two very heavy chairs back from each side of a corner table. A flabbergasted Pat looked at his mother and quickly followed her example to take a seat.  Both chairs were then gently slid an appropriate distance into the table. 

The two servers then took two napkins from the table, flourished and placed them into their laps.  A third was pouring water while a fourth was adding mini cubes of ice with a silver tong, and still another carefully held a menu in front of Pat while a menu was also presented to Cassy.

"Would you like to start your meal with a beverage?"   Came the sonorous query from the younger of the first two.  Cassie ordered a Gimlet and Pat reflexively ordered a Manhattan. The gentleman acknowledged the selections and continued.

"My name is Marcell; and I will be attending to your needs this evening.  Is there anything else I may supply to make your stay more comfortable?"

It was at this point that Pat looked up from his menu and saw Morgana seated in the third place at the table.  In all the hubbub of the entrance and seating, he had not seen her.  Of course the first words out of her mouth were a derogatory, "Don’t we look cute this evening?"

Pat, Of course, blushed.  He was completely broadsided and out of his element. He didn’t know what to do.  He reached for his napkin and pressed it to his brow to relieve the heat he felt.  The movement was quite feminine and not unnoticed.  Immediately a server came and replaced the napkin on his lap and presented a silver tray for Pat to discard the soiled one.  Pat blushed more.

Fortunately the other waiter arrived and presented the drinks, and Pat hid behind his glass as he drank it all in one gulp and requested a replacement.  The professional waiter knowing his customers, realized there was a problem, and he delayed the delivery of the next drink longer than the normal service would have provided.  The delay provided the opportunity for the other drinks to be dispatched and the waiter was able to fetch three replacements in one pass, making it look smooth to the casual observer.  The soups, salads, and entrees went without any additional difficulty.  Cass set up a running conversation with Pat and Morgana and there seemed to be no lapses until the dessert busied all three with a supposedly sugar free lemon meringue pie that appeared to be 5 inches high, with browned curls spiking off the white layer.

By the time the coffees were sipped from the demitasse, all three were very comfortable and sated.

Cass suggested, no, she heartily recommended the three retire to the private bar area attached to the restaurant for an after dinner drink.  As they started to arise, three waiters grabbed each of their chairs and slid them away from the table to allow their free movement away from the table.

 Now, Pat noticed something decidedly out of the ordinary, where was the check, and how come the waiters not helping any of the other male patrons with their chairs?  A small voice in the back of his head told him he was being taken for a woman. He became even edgier.

Things didn’t settle down in the quiet of the café.  With his mother along, they couldn’t sit at the bar.  So they took seats at a booth that had just been vacated near the entrance

Pat ordered another Manhattan, while his mother took a glass of Chablis and Morgana put in her request for a Stinger. The conversation stayed at the same light level as the restaurant had fostered. It was illuminating for Pat.

 It was the first time he had heard any details of his mother’s business, and even Morgana was sharing what her business experiences produced for her. They were actually forming better bonds as a family than hey had in years.

 Then it happened. Three fellows at the table next to their booth sent a round of drinks over to their booth.  Pat looked at the drinks.

"What’s this?" he asked aloud.

Morgana and Cass both broke out into laughter.

"My dear Patti", Morgana replied patronizingly.  These are tokens to our desirability.  And she looked over at the table and smiled at the admirers.  Then Cass picked up her new drink and saluted them.

Like a precision drill team, all three stood and approached Pat’s booth.  Pat was trying to melt into the seat.  The short one slid over and sat down next to Morgana, the Dark one sat down next to the first, and across from Cass and the third one, the tall blonde and rugged looking one, sat down pushing up against Pat.

Cass decided this had gone far enough and calmly stated, "Gentlemen, we thank you for the drinks, but we wont have time to enjoy them as we are just now leaving for our meeting.  Some other time maybe."  With that, she stood up and grabbed her purse. Morgana was hesitant, she saw another opportunity to humiliate her brother and wanted to prolong it.  But Pat had risen with his mother and the tall blonde moved to get out of the way.  He tried a delaying action by interjecting .

"Hi!  My names Hal and I come here often.  When can I meet you?"

Cass called out, "Will you hurry, Pat? We will be late."

Pat pushed past and hurried out to where the Valets were dutifully holding the doors for entry.  He unceremoniously rushed in and plopped in the back seat.

When they got home after dinner, Pat went straight to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a stiff drink. Cassy and Morgana just stared him as they took off their coats and hung them in the closet.

"What's wrong, Pat?" his mom asked. "You seemed nervous all through the entire meal." 

"Everybody thought I was a girl!" he blurted. "Thank you, Miss,...  Yes, Miss... Here's the Ladies Room, Miss...., and when that creep sent  me that drink, and sat down next  to me, well, it was too much.  I didn't know what I wanted to do more, hit him in the chops, or curl up and die!" 

"He was just being nice.  They all were." 

"But they all thought I was a GIRL!" 

"Listen, brother, "Morgana chipped in, "with the way you looked tonight, anybody would have thought so.  You know, that's not tissue paper filling out your bra!  And, unless they disappear soon, which I really doubt, you had better get used to it." 

"Your sister's right, dear, you'd better start thinking about the future. You know..." 

"Just not tonight, Mom, and certainly not anytime as a girl. I'm going to take a shower, then hit the sack," Pat declared as he stomped up the stairs. 

"Good night, sis..." Morgana joked, with a smile on her face.  He raced up the balance of the steps to hide his embarrassment, but Pat's jostling made his chest ache by the time he got to the top. 

In the bathroom, Pat took one last look in the mirror before he started to remove his clothes.  What he saw sent a chill down his back.  He carefully studied the girl looking back at him.  Looking at her chest, his....tits,  a strange sexual feeling enveloped him.  A  tightening around the crotch of his pants as an erection grows, and also across  his chest as his nipples hardened and stood out.  

Pat turned away, confused.  He tried to reflect on what was transpiring.  The masculine part of him was getting turned on by the feminine parts, and they, in turn, were responding as a woman's body would when anticipating sex.  He'd seen Sharon's nipples do that during foreplay, but this was crazy. Pat was sexually exciting himself!  The shower should cool things down. 

First the blouse came off, to reveal the white bra and the enlarged breasts, then his shoes, pants and finally his underwear.  Stepping into the warm water for the shower, Pat grabbed the soap and started to lather himself.  His nipples began to harden again as he cleaned them.  It felt good, really strange, but the pleasant erotic sensations were too powerful to stop.  With one hand on his now rampant member, and the other playing with his breasts, the hot water pounding his back and neck are too much. Pat exploded in a climax like he never had before. The lights seemed to dim as the intense orgasm wracked his body, he spurt all over his stomach and onto his chest. Gasping for breath, he had to sit on the side of the tub to control the shaking.  

"Lord!  What a climax!  Maybe these tits are good for something after all, but did they have to be so big?" he muttered between gasps. 

When Pat got back in to rinse himself off, there was a knock on the bathroom door. 

"Pat, dear? I laid out some night-clothes on your bed for you.  Be sure to wear them tonight, as it might turn cold.  I also laid out a sleep bra, it  will not be as painful to roll over with it on.  G’Night, dear." 

Pat wasn't about to argue about the sleep bra. Not being used to those breasts, when he tossed and turned in bed, he painfully squeezed his newly enlarged chest, waking himself up. 

Wrapping a towel around his waist, Pat stepped out of the tub to stand before the mirror. Checking his reflection, he rewrapped the towel around his chest as he had seen his sister do, and quickly scooted to his room. The sleepwear and the sleep bra that his mom had promised were laid out on his bed, but it was not what he'd expected.  It was not his pajamas and the plain white bra, OH NO! But a it was a light, peach colored bra with some lace around the cups, and a matching baby-doll nightie with matching panties. How could she? 

"Mom!" 

"Yes, Pat?" 

"Why'd you get me this stuff?  Can't I wear my old pajamas?" 

"Because with your chest the size it is, you wouldn't be able to close it in front." 

"...Okay, but why the colored bra?" 

"So you wouldn't see it through the nightie.  Please don’t question all my  actions, honey, anything I do will be for your own good.  Now, take off that towel and get dressed, so I can see how you look."  Turning away, she added, "Come on downstairs when you're dressed." 

Putting the wet towel in the hamper, Pat donned the peach bra and slowly slipped the silken panties up his legs. The smooth, cool sensation was starting to re-excite his organ, but some heavy concentrating soon subdued that action. Slipping the nightie over his head, and adjusting it around himself, he went downstairs to say goodnight as instructed. 

"Whew!  Look at the centerfold girl!" cried his sister. "Don't come around any of my boyfriends, dressed like that.  I'll never see either you, or them, again!" 

"Knock it off!" Pat threatened, "or I'll knock you through the wall!" 

"Both of you!  Stop it right now!  Don't tease your brother, he can't help that he looks like a well-endowed girl above the waist," and turning to Pat, she added, "and if you ever threaten your older sister again, when I get through with you, you'll be nothing more in this house than our maid!" Looking at both of them, she glared, "Do I make myself clear?" 

"Yes, Mom," they answered in unison. 

"Good, now then, kiss each other good night, and retire to your rooms." 

As Pat reluctantly went over to Morgana to obey his suddenly very authoritative mother, his sister kissed him right on the lips, and copped a quick feel of his chest. 

"Go ahead and say something, Patti dear," she whispered, "I'd love to see you in a pretty little French maid's costume."  Pulling away, Pat silently walked upstairs to his bedroom.  He'd never heard his mom use that tone of voice to him before, like she meant every word of it.  Would she really turn him into the family's maid? The thought sent a chill of fear down his back. 

That night, for the first time, Pat dreamed he was a woman. With long blonde hair, a large bust, and an ass that twitched whenever he took a step in his high heels. In the dream, he was the maid of a woman and her daughter, who looked a lot like his mom and Morgana. They had him dressed in a pair of 6 inch high heels, black net stockings, and a short black silken skirt, held out by many layers of pretty petticoats. There was also a tight black blouse that was cut very low, to show off his breasts.  He had to call both of them "mistress" or "my lady", and they called him Patricia.  He did all the housework in his dream, and all the cooking,  never complaining, and because he knew that it was his station in life, he was....happy. 

----

interlude

---- 

The three meeting again in the basement. The circle and the pentagram was again drawn on the floor.  The candles were again burning, and the chanting was filling the room...again.  For over two hours, the three chanted.  Finally Morgana put a stop to it. 

"There.  That should do it.  Starting tomorrow, my "sister" will begin to change again. This time, she will gain womanly hips, behind and legs. By the way," she commented, as she turned to the smaller of the other two,  "that was a good touch about changing his feet to a more delicate size."  Then turning to the other, she said, "Don't push him too fast, I don't want you found out.  Tomorrow, his best friend will be coming home from his college, and I can't wait to see what "Patti Dear" will say to him." 

"Yea!" chimed the shorter one, "maybe Rick will ask him out for a date." 

"We can always hope!" the three laughed, then they cleaned up the basement and changed into their street clothes. 

Chapter Six  

"... I enjoy being a girl..." were the first words Pat heard in the morning.  Someone had set the alarm clock into the radio function.  It must have been a coincidence,; at least he hoped so!  For a second, Pat was taken aback by the peach babydoll nightie and matching bra, that is, until he remembered his  mother's explanation from the night before.  Getting up and going to the  bathroom, he ran some cold water over his face and brushed his teeth.  Taking a leak was more difficult.  The panties had no fly in them, so he had to pull them down below his knees. That's when he discovered the hems of the nightie fell in the way to obstruct him. 

"Hang it all! I'll just have to sit down." Doing so, Pat realized that this was how girls went to the bathroom...terrific! 

Back in his room, Pat crossed to the chest of drawers and fetched a pair of jeans and tossed them onto the bed.  Over at the dresser, he retrieved socks, underwear (underPANTS, thank god!), a white bra, and a dark blue sweater, because it looked like it might be cool that day.  Thinking about the weather made him wonder how soon summer would begin.  It was May now, so the heat was just around the corner. Pat would normally be excited about the prospect of swimming, and just lying around the  beach, but this year he didn't know what he'd do.  Considering his current appearance, he might have to get some halter-tops and bikini sets for the summer.  He wondered how he'd look in them.... What in the world was he thinking?  He pushed those thoughts from his mind, and proceeded getting dressed. 

First Pat removed the nightie by pulling it over his head. Then he replaced the sleep bra with the regular one, giving him more support.  Unfortunately, it also gave his chest an uplifting effect, which made it more noticeable, as if 36C could go unnoticed.  Slipping the peach colored night-panties down his legs, Pat pulled up his old Jockey shorts.  Good, he thought, to have something on with a fly opening in it, though they didn't feel as comfortable and soft as the panty bottoms had.  

Pat pulled a pair of sweat socks from the drawer, and pulled them over his feet. When he pulled his jeans on, Pat found them to be a bit tight around his hips, but figured that they must have shrunk a bit in the last wash.  He was sure they would stretch back to fit, as they always had.  He pulled a loose fitting sweater on, hoping to mask his endowments as much as he could. Once he'd tied up the laces on his sneakers, Pat was ready to go. He just felt like he had to get over to Sharon's and see her. 

The bus trip was another joyride to hell, with Pat attracting all kinds of odd looks, stares, and whispered comments.  As he'd assumed earlier, his 36C chest wasn't about to go unnoticed.  When would this torture end?  What could he do to help make his appearance less distressing until it did end?

When he got to Sharon's apartment complex, he raced through the entrance and up the stairs to the second landing.  Pat knocked on her door, and she promptly let him in. 

"Give me a big kiss, Sweetheart!" she whispered,.  She thrust her tongue deep into his mouth, her hands roving all over Pat's body until one came to rest on his ass and the other stopped on his breasts. She was becoming more aggressive in their physical relationship, almost...  masculine?  Breaking off the kiss and disengaging her probing fingers, Pat asked her what it was that had turned her on so much. 

"I brought you a gift, and can't wait to give it to you," Sharon told him, with a note of intrigue in her voice. 

"Well...let's have it then." 

"What? The gift, or me?" she joked, as she rubbed her hips against his crotch.  She certainly knew what she was doing.   Pat was well on his way to splitting his pants with the size of his erection.  When she noticed that his nipples were also becoming erect, she started to gently roll one between her fingers. 

"Well... which do you want, baby?" 

If she continued what she was doing, Pat was certainly going to cream in his pants.  He started to reach for her, but she started to prance away. 

"...please..." he moaned. 

"Only if you promise to use, what I got you, for the rest of the week," Sharon teased. 

"But I don't know what it is yet."  

"That doesn't matter!  Promise, or you can go home now!" 

"...okay, but let's go to bed first..." 

"You'll use them for the rest of the week?"   

"Sure, for the next three days, until Saturday night, whatever it is," Pat promised.

Then she locked the door and slowly walked past him into  her bedroom. Looking back, she asked, "Are you coming?" 

Pat started to take off his sweater as he followed her. "Not yet, but I think I soon shall be."   Referring to his emotional state and not the movement into the next room.

"You know the new rules, me first, or nothing for a week," she reminded him. 

"I know..." 

"Just making sure." 

By the time Pat had removed his shoes, socks, sweater, bra, jeans, and underpants, Sharon was already naked, waiting on top of the bed. As he walked across the room, she held her legs wide open, with one hand between them, massaging her clit.  Looking up at him, she groaned with passion, and reached out with her arms toward him. 

Pat must have been quite a picture, naked as the day he was born, breasts thrusting out, taught nipples protruding, and lower on his body, a large erection standing out from his legs at more than a ninety degree angle.  

Crossing to the bed, she reached up and drew him down next to her.  Their kissing effectively blocked out the rest of the world, their hands exploring every part of each other's bodies. Rolling Pat onto his back, Sharon started to kiss his body down its entire length. When she reached his nipples, she used her tongue, and moved it in circles around the aureoles, finally, she took one into her mouth and gently started to suck on it.  Then she moved to the other nipple, and repeated the stimulation. 

The sensation was beyond Pat's wildest dreams, and his hips started thrusting into empty air.  He gave a deep gasp of pleasure that escaped from somewhere deep down in his soul.  Moving herself on top of him, while never letting up on one breast or the other, she guided his erect member into her glistening pussy. Warm, wet, and excited beyond anything in his life, Pat fought the waves of blackness that were threatening to send him into a faint from the pleasure of it all. Up and down, in and out, sliding arching, panting, and groaning. 

Sharon soon stopped her sucking, and then started to probe his ass with one of her fingertips, while leaning over to whisper in Pat's ear, "That's it, Patti... Patti dear...Thrust...thrust...did you like me sucking on your gorgeous breasts...I know you did." She continued to pump.  "Do you like being on the bottom? That's right, girlie ...thrust...thrust,  I know you like it on the bottom." The pressure was becoming too much. 

"Come on...you can do it...that's right, ...come on, COME ON! COME  NOW!" she ordered, as she simultaneously thrust her finger into Pat's virginal ass, and her tongue into his mouth.  If not for the tongue buried deep in his throat, his body would have screamed.  Wave, after wave, of pure pleasure washed over him, finally carrying him with it, and Pat succumbed to the blackness, finally passing out.

Continued in Chapter 7

 

since 04/02/03