(I AM a GIRL! Well, I mean...I'm a woman...I think...)

 

"What's gone too far, sweetie?" asked 'Harriet'. As a special reward for his progress, dedication and willingness to do 'anything' for his owners, 'Harry Leland' had been allowed to donate his vast fortune to the Black Queen herself, surrendering his wearisome freedom and responsibility for a new identity as 'Sissy Harriet'. Harriet never had to balance a chequebook or pay a bill again. Instead he got to wear skimpy outfits, stuff his face with candies and pastries and abuse the 'lesser bois' all he wanted. As he asked, he whacked his leather riding crop into his darling, dainty hand. So small, yet so fat. The thick-fingers and sweaty palms held the twin blessings of 'pain' and 'pleasure'. The Black Queens instincts had been right about Harry. He was a sadist who could be molded into whatever form she wanted.

 

And what she'd wanted...was what she'd received. 'Harriet' was both Sugar and Spice. Naughty and Nice. A brutal, selfindulgent little boi-brat who loved her without question, and emulated his mistress in the most darling ways.

 

"This!" Emmett bleated, as Harriet stroked his bulging bottom. Harriet had been key in training Sebastian (now called 'Bessie') as a dancer. His body grew smooth and round, he wore lots of gorgeous outfits and costumes, and always wore lots of makeup on his snotty, spoiled face. He trained and strutted and wiggled his perfectly sculpted bottom in time with the music, and now 'Bessie' was on the dance floor doing a sexy Can-Can dance with dozens of other sissies, each performing their part perfectly as they kicked and sang in time. His body had been induced to grow soft and plump, and 'Bessie' was often compared to Mea West because of his wide, fleshy hips, plump bottom and cinched waist. So proud of his new appearance and identity was Bessie that he prefered to associate only with the other dancers in his troop. The last time Emmett had tried to speak with Bessie, the plumply athletic sissy had pretended not to understand him, babbling something in throaty French and laughing at his attempts to follow him. "Nobody in the Showboi's dressing room but other showboi's." said the ruggedly handsome man who blocked his way. "That're doin' an' old fashioned Cabaret next. I think your friend's playin' 'Marlene Dietrich' in that one."

 

Bessie had indeed been the divine Marlene. He was amazing. When he'd taken center stage and sang 'Just a Gigolo', Emmett forgot all his problems for a moment. He wanted to be up tere. Dancing and singing like Bessie. Bessie was a star. Bessie was going places.

 

Bessie wasn't a 'Bottom Boi'...like Emmett.

 

Harriet rolled his eyes and sighed exaggeratedly. "What do you mean by 'This', Emmett? The Hellfire Club? The place I've called home for ages, and will call home the rest of my natural life? The Black Queen herself?"

 

"YES!" Emmett stamped his foot just then, causing an explosion of wobbles behind him. As a 'Bottom Boi' he was one of the simplest Sissies in the place. Can't dance, sing or entertain? Can't follow orders or at least stay out of trouble? Well...any fellow can be a 'Bottom Boi'...and that's what Emmett was.

 

His body was slim and girlish without being un-boyish. His hair was dyed blond and set in a longish, flicked pageboy. His upper body was smooth and lovely, and his white lace gloves and french maid-inspired white uniform flaunted both his sweet adams apple AND his smooth, hairless, boobless chest...with his grape-thick nipples. But his bottom...

 

   His bottom was immense. A great, wide swath of ass, hip and thigh that dazzled as much as it amused. Hips that flared like a bell, sloping outward into hefty keg-thighes, joined to a set of buttocks that projected from the back like a big, pillowy bustle. Bottom Boi's were cartoonish. Bottom Boi's were rediculous. Bottom Boi's were a joke...and Emmett was a Bottom Boi.

 

   It drew the eye when he walked and drew that hand of every passer by. Thick, platform boots with thick six-inch heels enhanced his thick yet shapely legs and set the stage for the ass that was his pride and his shame. A 'Bottom Boi' might serve drinks, check hats and coats, or just clean up after a party...but the Bottom Boi's body was intended for one thing, and that was anal sex.

 

   Harriet sighed. He genuinely sympathized with poor Emmett. It wasn't as if he lacked a hart. But...thgis level of insanity was disturbing.

 

   "Emmett, you're not making sense. I know your wrong, because the Hellfire Club has ALWAYS been ruled by the Black Queen. She is our goddess, queen and saviour. I have served her all my adult life, and will serve her for the rest of my life, just as you will. If you could only reject this madness and embrace your destiny as a Bottom Boi, I know you'll find happiness. After all, Bottom Boi's don'get much respect...but they do get a LOT of sex. Now...be a good fellow and keep your nose clean. If you're good, I'm sure the Black Queen will give you a new identity. She talked about you just this morning. She called you 'Emma' just as natural as you please. Isn't that a lovely name?"

 

   Emmett felt blessed. Emma? That felt like it SHOULD be his name! Maybe the Black Queen really did understand the real him?