Archive-name: Bondage/circus1.txt

Archive-author: She Devil

Archive-title: Circus Story - 1





     I give you a circus story.



     It was better than most hospital rooms: bigger, better-

equipped, comfortably furnished, and conscientiously attended by a

trained staff.  But at this moment it wasn't much better than the

Drunk Tank at the City Jail, thanks to the hordes of screaming

relatives that clustered around the bed where my Uncle Hubert lay,

taking his own good time about dying.



     "You can't do that! moaned Aunt Mary.



     "It's a disgrace!" groaned Cousin Charles.



     "We'll be ruined socially!" wailed a blue-haired old lady who

relationship to me I never was sure of.



     "None-the-less," the strong tones of Uncle Hubert's voice

silenced them all, even from his death bed.  "It's what I want and

it's what I'm going to do!"



     "But you can't!" Aunt Mary repeated.  "You just can't leave

all your money to a bastard child you've never even seen ... the

daughter of-of a common performer -- or worse!"



     "I can and I will," Uncle Hubert's voice grated more firmer

than ever.  "The lawyers have already rewritten my will, and all I

have to do now is find the child... And by damn, I'm going to! 

Now get out of here, all of you -- except you Martin -- Go on, get

out!"



     The others were herded from the room by a nurse who looked

like a pro-football linebacker and I was left alone with my Uncle

Hubert.



     "Any progress?"  He asked eagerly.



     "Some," I said, watching his old eyes light up. "The

detectives have been following up every lead you've given us, and

it seems they might be on to something.  They're checking out

rumors about a girl working in a circus or something somewhere out

west.  They say it looks really hopeful, and if it turns out good

they should have some news in a few weeks."



     "Good!" The old man knew he could hold out that long easily. 

"You know, Martin, it's funny; I never thought much of you.  Guess

some of your ideas were a little too far out for an old man like

me.  But now it seems that you're the only one I can trust to do

this.  Maybe it's because I never tried to buy your love like I did 

all those others," he cast a disparaging glance at the hallway full

of greedy relatives.  "Anyway, I want you to know I appreciate it

and, if it works out, if you find the child, you'll be well taken

care of!"



     "Sure, Uncle Hubert," I smiled, rising. "But the main thing

now is for you to rest. I may not be back for a few weeks, but when

I do return, it'll be with good news!"



     Out in the hallway, the others ignored me as I left.  Except

for my cousin Roderick, that is; I heard his mincing footsteps

growing louder in the hallway as he hurried to catch up with me.



     "Well," he trilled, touching my sleeve softly.  "How's the pet

nephew today?"



     "Still poor, but happy," I smiled, hiding the distaste I've

always felt for Roderick as best I could.  For years I used to tell

myself that I was unfairly prejudiced against Roderick because he's

gay and I'm not.  But recently I had come to realize that my

dislike of the man had nothing to do with his sexual preferences;

he was just a little twerp, that's all. And a very irritating one

at that.



     "And how are things with the upper classes?" I continued.



     "Oh, you know that crowd," he wrinkled his nose at my

reference to our mutual relations.  "Always worried about losing an

odd hundred million or so. But just what have you and Uncle Hubert

been plotting, anyway?"



     That was the one thing I liked about Roderick: you could see

through him like air. Clever he might be, but subtle? Never!



     "Nothing very important," I lied, "but why should you care?

You were never in the will for very much anyway -- not that you

needed it -- and I know you don't lose any sleep over the welfare

of us paupers."



     We smiled at the half-truth of my remark.  By conventional

standards, I'm not a pauper at all, with a trust fund that nets me

a few hundred grand a year after taxes. But in our family, that

strictly a poor relation.



     "Oh, you must know I've always liked you Martin," Roderick

lied right back. "But I must say that whatever it is you've been

doing lately has changed you somehow. I can't quite place it, but

your just a little ... different!  Your clothes don't seem to fit

you anymore, your voice seems higher, your skin paler, and ... you

walk funny.  You almost remind me of an old boyfriend of mine. Did

I ever tell you about the fellow who was into dresses?"



     I felt myself reddening at his remarks, wondering if he had

really guessed anything.  Fortunately, we had reached my Mercedes

by that time and I broke the conversation off quickly and sped

home.



     There, in the privacy of my luxury town house, I studied

myself closely in the mirror, then I doffed my clothing for a look

at how I was progressing.



     It was better than I had expected. My skin was smooth, soft,

and  -- except for a triangular patch over my male organs --

hairless.  My shapely legs and round ass would have looked great on

any girl.  But most impressive of all, above my nipped-in waist,

were a pair of full firm breasts that had grown so they were not

easy to hide anymore.  Well, I thought, after tonight there would

be no need to hide them at all.  And in a month or so, if

everything went right, I'd be completely rid of them and back to

being my old 100% male self.



     You're probably wondering what all this is about. The fact is

that I had been giving serious thought to the question of my Uncle

Hubert's lost bastard child for over a year.  Ever since the old

bastard had been diagnosed as terminal he'd been talking more and

more about his lost youth and the mistakes he'd made and the wrong

he'd done.



     One thing in particular had seemed to bother him more than

most:  About twenty years ago, he'd had a fling with some girl who

must have really impressed him. He had even promised to marry her,

or hinted around that he might, anyway.  Whatever the case, when

the lady in question got pregnant, he'd dropped her like a greasy

hand grenade, which was why the girl was so ashamed at having been

made such a fool of that she dropped out of college (she'd been in

some athletic program or something) and joined a travelling circus.



     Can you imagine anything like that in this day and age?  I

couldn't either, but Uncle Hubert had insisted it had happened, and

the detectives I'd hired confirmed it: A girl with the plebeian

name of Kitty O'Malley had really dropped out of an Ivy League

school twenty years ago and taken up employment with an acrobatic

troupe passing through the area that summer!  And this was none

other than the woman whom Uncle Hubert had seduced and abandoned.



     As I said, I had hired detectives to dig all this information

out for several months ago.  You see, I could tell by the way Uncle

Hubert had been talking about this things that it was really

preying on his mind and it occurred to me that he would probably be

looking to make amends before he died.



     I was right.  The old reprobate broke down and cried one

evening, just after he'd gone into the hospital, swearing that he'd

do anything if only he could make things up to his poor, poor

Kitty.  He'd hired some detectives himself by that time, and it had

come as quite a shock to him when they'd reported back that Kitty

had died over fifteen years earlier.  But you should have seen his

eyes light up when I reminded him that Kitty had been pregnant,

after all, there was still a very strong possibility that he had a

son or a daughter running around someplace who could be found and

provided for!



     That's when Uncle Hubert and I finally started to get along. 

He was amazed that any of his relatives would be so understanding

and self-sacrificing as to actually try and dig out another

relative to share his billions with.  But I put my pious look on my

face and told him that I could see how much it all meant to him,

and from that day on, I was put in charge of `The Search for the

Missing Heir/ess.'



     Since I was already several months ahead of the detectives

he'd hired, it was fairly easy to put them all on false trails

while I sent my own detective on a short-cut.



     Then, when that had just almost found my uncle's lost child,

I thanked them, paid them generously, and told them to forget it,

that I would have the second team of investigators (the ones Uncle

Hubert knew about) finish the job.



     By now, you're probably wondering about my motives in all

this.  Well frankly, I was wondering myself.  You see, I knew that

there was a lot of money at stake her.  And it seemed to me that

whoever found this missing child (actually a young lady by now, I

had discovered) would hold the key to the whole situation; if I

found her, I could always present her to Uncle Hubert and count on

being cut in for a share of his gratitude. If I ever did present

her to my uncle, that is!  It had also occurred to me that if I --

and I alone -- knew where she was, it might be possible to remove

forever any proof of her identity and sound my other relatives out

on "How much would they be willing to pay if I could guarantee that

the missing child would never be found?"



     So everything I'd done up to a few months ago had been to

ensure myself that I would find Uncle Hubert's daughter long before

anyone else could.  Then I could see what the situation looked like

and make my plans accordingly.  Only I'd hit a snag.



     My detectives had traced Kitty O'Malley's daughter to an

outfit called "She Devil's Travelling All-Female Circus."  But

there was something funny about this set-up.  It seemed this circus

didn't play small towns, shopping centers, or hook with the big

circuses the way other travelling shows did. No, She Devil's troupe

seemed to play exclusively at very posh and private parties for

people in the same income bracket as my Uncle Hubert. And they had

their home base on the estate of a mega-billionaire who made even

Uncle Hubert seem like a piker.  During the summer months they

would travel the country side like any other circus outfit, except

that they were a little better off than most, and as I said, they

only played at very swanky and very private events.



     Well, if there's one thing learned from being rich, it's that

rich people don't waste their time going to the circus.  S it was

pretty obvious to me that She Devil's Travelling All-Female Circus

must be offering some extra attraction for the jaded wealthy, and

it didn't take me long to discover what that was: SEX!



     Through my connections with other wealthy young men of leisure

just like myself, I soon learned that She Devil's Circus

specialized in the bizarre. My friend mentioned bondage displays,

exotic sexual freaks, and feats of eroto-acrobatics that would have

amazed the Flying Wallendas.



     So this was where my long lost cousin was working.



     And this was where I would have to go to find her.



     That was where my problem started. Because for my purposes, I

would have to not only find the girl, but find out all I could

about her private situation.  If there was any way she could be

privately hidden away, spirited off, or just have the proof of her

identity removed, I had to know where it was. And if there wasn't,

I had to know that too, so I could be as delighted as Uncle Hubert

over her discovery.  Therefore, I would have to conduct my own

private investigation incognito.  It would never do for Uncle

Hubert to discover that someone of my description had been

continuing to search around She Devil's Circus long after he should

have found his long-lost daughter and brought her home.



     The answer stared me in the face for a long time before I

finally admitted it.  The only way that I could effectively

disguise myself and do a close investigation of She Devil's All

Girl Travelling Circus was to disguise myself as a woman! And for

s et-up like this, it would have to be not just a disguise, but

almost a complete transformation!



     As I say, it took me a long time to admit this to myself;

after all, though not particularly big or masculine-looking, I am

completely male and definitely heterosexual, so the idea of turning

myself into a woman -- even temporarily -- was naturally repugnant

to me.  But once I decided that this was the only way to do it, I

threw myself into the project with a vengeance. I read everything

I could about transvestism and transsexualism.  I discussed things

with well-known female impersonators and transsexuals. I even spoke

to doctors who did the male-to-female operation. And at last I had

developed a way to carry the whole thing off.



     Expensive creams and hormones had softened my skin and almost

completely deadened my body hair.  Shots had rounded my buttocks

and swelled my breasts up to what would become impressive 38-D

dimensions. Corsetting and exercise had nipped in my waist while

another daily regimen had softened the muscles in my arms and

shoulders and shaped  up my legs.  And hours of constant practice

had finally made me an expert in makeup, hair styling, and feminine

deportment. I could now look and act completely feminine whenever

I wanted.



     Or almost completely. There was just one detail to take care

of: my male organs .. some detail! But I had at last found a way to

get around even that obstacle without doing myself any permanent

harm.



     Weeks of nightly soaking in a special astringent lotion had

succeeded in shrinking my cock and balls to about half their normal

size. And for an outrageous fee, an obliging doctor had permanently

stitched small loops of surgical thread into the skin around my

genitals. I had been anaesthetized during this procedure, of

course, but the result was that I now had a network of incredibly

strong and tiny loops of thread completely around the area I wanted

to hide.



     Now I picked up the device that I had ordered from an

expensive special effects lab in Hollywood: An artificial vagina!

It was made of a durable flesh-like substance and designed to fit

comfortably over my real genitals, holding them back in a small

package between my legs. There was even a realistic permanently-

moistened female passageway between the pussy-lips, equipped with

a nylon spring to keep it convincingly tight yet seductively

yielding.  And the entire thing was surrounded by dark hair that

could be easily and invisibly laced into the loops at my crotch!



     Did I say "easily?"  It took me almost an hour of bending

forward, trying to see between my jiggling breasts, to get the

thing laced on!  But when I had finished at last and looked at

myself in the mirror once more, I felt an enormous glow of

satisfaction. There, reflected back at me, was the perfect image of

an attractive -- even voluptuous -- woman!  Her curly dark hair

fell neatly to the nape of her neck in a perfectly feminine style.

And framed by this dark hair, her softly made-up features smiled

back at me: Gracefully arched eyebrows over demure, shadowed brown

eyes with long dark lashes, just a hint of blush at the cheeks, and

the skin so soft as to need no foundation. And a perfectly drawn

pair of oh so kissable lips!



     Below the neck, the shoulders were smooth and soft like the

arms, betraying no hint of masculinity.  At the chest were those

firm, lovely breasts for which I had worked so hard. Below the flat

tummy was an inviting triangle of dark pubic hair with just a hint

of pink nether lips behind it. Behind this, I could see the twin

curves of a round, bouncing pink bottom. And beneath my gracefully 

swelling hips was a pair of legs that would make any woman envious.



     I was ready!



                            *********



     "So you're Mattie Huntington?"



     She Devil looked at ne over the strong, bitter tea that we

were sharing in her well-equipped trailer, her green eyes softly

glowing. They were fascinating, those eyes of hers, and as we

talked, I felt myself looking into them more and more deeply.



     "That's right," I lied in my soft feminine voice.  "I believe

you received a letter about me from my -ah- friend, Martin Howard?"



     "Yes, Martin vouched for you alright; he said you're not an

undercover policeman or anything. But I don't actually know Martin.

He himself was referred to me by some long-standing patrons of

mine.  So your references are good but just slightly second hand."



     "Isn't the money I'm paying you enough to settle any doubts?"

I asked. "I mean, it - it's hard enough for me just getting up the

nerve to try this thing without having to go through this- this ...



     "Interrogation?" She Devil smiled. "Relax. Mattie: you're not

the first woman who has offered to pay me to hire her.  You'd be

surprised how many women have a latent streak of exhibitionism or

submissiveness in them and decide they'd like to try a few weeks

with She Devil's Circus.  Your request was a little different from

most, however."



     "You mean my stipulation that I shouldn't have to-to...."



     "That you didn't want to perform for the customers but just

wanted to help out with the girls backstage," She Devil prompted. 

"That's right.  In fact, it might be very difficult to arrange.

This is a circus, after all, and part of the system is that every

girl must pitch in wherever she's needed. That's the only way we

can get by."



     "But-but I'm paying for this!"  I insisted.  "And I really,

really don't want to have to -- have sex with-with men and things!

Isn't it possible for me just to clean the girls rooms and care for

their things? Liked I asked?"



     "I'll do what I can," She Devil said evenly, looking deeply

into my brown eyes with her smoldering green ones as she went on in

her soft, compelling voice, "But I want you to prepare yourself

mentally for the times when we'll ask you to do something else for

us; to help in some way with the customers. Of course, we won't

force you to do anything against your will, but you may find, after

a little while with us, that you have more potential than you ever

thought.  As you relax, you'll find your mind expanding and your

horizons broadening.  And although you can refuse anytime you wish,

you may simply feel better by helping out. That will all come later

prehaps.  Meanwhile, I want you to remember that this arrangement

will continue only for as long as you can pay for it.  Is that

clear?"



     I shook myself out of the reverie into which I had somehow

fallen and nodded.



     "Much as I might like you personally," She Devil continued,

"and I do find myself strangely attracted to you, I can only

survive as long as this show prospers.  We serve a rich clientele,

but that also means that our expenses are high and our arrangements

complicated.  I had a girl here, very much like you, once who could

not understand that ours was a business relationship:  We provide

our services only as long as you can pay for the.  That's all right

with you, isn't it?"



     I nodded again, thinking comfortably of how well I had

prepared for all this.  Not only had I changed my appearance, but

I had also obtained false identification papers and even set up a

well stocked checking account through a large bank in the name of

Mattie Huntington.  And in case of emergency, I had all my real

identification, credit cards, and such safely hidden away in the

trailer I had bought to travel in with the circus.  I sipped my tea

and felt myself relaxing even more.



     "Very good," She Devil smiled. "Now, let's talk Mattie. I want

to discuss the things you'll be wearing and the duties you'll be

performing for me and the other girls.  After all, we have to know

just what you'lll be doing before we know what outfits to have made

for you.  So I want you to relax and tell me all about your

innermost thouhgts and fantasies.  And about yourself. Tell me,

Mattie, how old are you?"



     We talked for almost two hours about all sorts of things: Did

I like my body? What did I think was my most attractive feature?

Howold was I?  Where was I raised?  Brothers and sisters?  What

were my favorite colors? My favorite fabrics?  Did I enjoy the cool

swish of silk?  Or the warm caress of leather?  Both?  How about

the comfortable squeeze of tight instep-arching high heels, and the

delightful rythym they impart to a woman's gait?  How about the

rustle of silken petticoats or the whisper of black silk stockings?

Had I ever felt the erotic constriction of a corset?  The delicate

touch of a leather collar?



     Had I ever gone swimming in the nude?  How did I feel in

school when I showered with the other girls in Gym Class?  What

would it to be like to be photographed nude?  I was asked to relax

and imagine myself in a situation where I was meeting a few friends

for an important luncheon at a fashionable restaurant.  I was

elegantly dressed, as I was now, in a heavy white silk blouse,

attractive mauve skirt, expensive silk slip and matching undies,

with sheer stockings on my legs, and fashionable shoes with two

inch heels.  But as we all sat down, I suddenly realized that there

was a bigger than life size poster on the wall behind me in which

I was completely naked, down on all fours, with a collar around my

neck, being walked down a city street by She Devil who was wearing

my clothes.



     I blinked, suddenly startled by the bizarre picture She Devil

had created, a little surprised to discover that I was not in that

restaurant with all my dream friends, but still here in She Devil's

trailer.



     "I'm sorry."  I said stupidly. "What was I saying?"



     "Oh, nothing," She Devil smiled, rising. "But I have a pretty

good idea now how I'm going to dress you and what you'll be doing! 

It's late now, though.  Why don't you go back to your trailer and

relax while I mnake some arrangements.  Then, tomorrow morning,

I'll introduce you to everyone and you can start your job!"



                            *********



     Starting the next day, and over the next few weeks, I

discovered what a bizarre set-up indeed was She Devil's Travelling

All-Girl Circus.  And what a strange cast of characters inhabited

it!



     There was Ktanka, the Strong lady, for instance, a lovely but

muscular Russian Goddess who towered almost seven feet tall, and

whose proud boast was that she could wrestle anything on earth.  I

watched her one day, practicing an odd combination of ballet moves

and wrestling maneuvers, amazed by the speed and agility of her

big, smooth legs and the quick strength of her arms, and I began to

believe that she was probably right: She could wrestle anything. 

Only I wouldn't have bet on her oppponent!



     Then there was Lila, the Tattooed Lady, who bragged that every

inch of her skin was tattooed and charged customers to explore the

truth of her claim.  I saw her quite often, showering, sweating in

the heat, even rubbing oil over her body to show everyone that the

tottoos were genuine; yet somehow, as I watched her from day to

day, the pattern of colorful pictures seemed to keep changing, so

that it was never the same fromone week to the next.



     There was also Lasha, the Whip Woman, a dark-skinned leather-

clad girl who was never without some sort of stinging punishment

device hanging from her wrist or hip.  I saw her in competition

once and gapsed as she knocked bottles, one at a time, from a

platform ten feet away before a sharpshooter could shatter them

with his target pistol!



     And there were a host of others, even stranger:  Sally

Swinger, the arealist;  Armless Amanda and legless Lilly, twin

sisters; helga, the Horse-woman; Magica, the conjurer; Kathy Clown

(whose bag of X-rated tricks seemed as inexhaustible as it was

inventive); The Round-Up Girls, the Rubber Woman ... I could go on

all day!



     One of the most interesting for me, though, was a pretty

twenty-year-old blonde who was introduced to me as just Molly.  She

did an act with two leopards in which the big cats walked lovingly

between her legs, tickled her with their tales, then gently made

love to each other in a variety of human positions at her command.

It seemed as if the animals actually loved their blonde mistress,

an attitude which was shared by the rest of the troupe as well. 

Molly's soft, gentle nature was cherished and protected by the

other girls in the troupe -- some of whom, as you may have

gathered, were quite hard-boiled -- and next to She Devil, she was

teh most popular person in the outfit.



     Ah yes, She Devil. Aptly named, that woman.  It wasn't that

she was overtly evil or anything; she just had an ineffable

sinister quality that I could never quite place.  She told me that

she used to do a mind-reading and hypnosis act in night clubs, and

the more I came to know her entrancingly proportioned body and her

captivating green eyes, the easier it was for me to believe it.



     And I saw quite a lot of She Devil.  Since we were both

backstagers, we often had moments together while the others were

working, and gradually these moments lengthened into hours and then

evenings.  Somehow, I always felt I could relax with She Devil. 

She would talk to me in her low, melodic voice, rubbing the back of

my neck as I sipped tea in her trailer, and after awhile, I would

listen and it would be me talking.  I only knew that when I left

her trailer, I always felt pleasantly refreshed, as if I had been

able to out down some terrible load for a little while.



     Just when we became lovers I could not say.  It just seemed

that one night I opened my eyes and found myself crouched nude

between her legs, tonguing passionately between her pussy lips,

feeling the soft caress of her bare thighs on my ears.  I had never

done this to a woman before, but I suddenly found myself hungry for

this exotic creature, physically aroused in a way I had never felt

before!  My nipples were erect and tingling, and between my legs,

my captive cock, imprisoned behind the false pudenda, ached warmly

as it struggled to expand in the small space ... in vain!  But the

pressure on my balls as my swelling organ pushed at them was

somehow more pleasant than painful.



     After that night, it seemed I just couldn't get enough of She

Devil.  Every chance I could, I would wait on her, attend her in

the bath, run little errands for her, or lovingly hand wash her

stockings and lingerie for her.  I ignored the comments from the

other girls that She Devil was incurably fickle, and devoted as

much time and attention as I possibly could to this fascinating

lesbian!  And, oddly enough, it seemed that, though still very much

a male underneath, I was coming to think of myself more and more as

... lesbian.  I lusted after She Devil, it's true; What guy

wouldn't be turned on by her full, firm breasts, her shapely legs,

and the silken texture of her tawny skin.  Beneath that false pussy

I wore, my cock stiffened every time she walked into a room! But

somehow, I also felt a stiffening in my nipples, a warm, moist

tingle in my crotch, and sometimes my mouth would actually salivate

with hunger to get between her thighs, like some kind of

conditioned reflex!  At those moments, I almost forgot about my

real identity, even forgot that I was really male, and responded to

She Devil's charms in a distinctly feminine way.  Soon, in fact,

whenever she entered a room I would feel my knees flex

automatically.  Everyone assumed I was curtseying to her, but

actually it was a reflex action caused by my conditioned response

to go down on her, until I realized that we were in public.



     But here I've been going on about She Devil and haven't gotten

around to telling you how she dressed me or some of the things I

had to do around the circus for the other girls -- and with them! 

And there was also my gradual discovery of my uncle's missing

daughter, and how I uncovered proof of her identity at last... and

what happened when I did!



End of Part 1

Stay tuned kiddies.

--