The Seasons of Womanhood
By Sarah Barndt
I had always been a smart-ass. As far as I was concerned, rules were made to be broken. I had been getting into trouble since I was 12 and had two convictions for assault and armed robbery on my record, but even then, I used the system to my advantage. Being a minor at the time, I had my lawyer ask for clemency. That meant the charges and convictions were suspended, unless I was convicted again. My lawyer warned me that another conviction, especially after I turned 21, would make me an automatic 3-time loser and face a very stiff sentence. I barely heard him. I was free and that's all I cared about. I had vowed I would never spend a day of hard time.
Before long, I was back to my old ways. I dealt some drugs, robbed some warehouses, but always played it safe and kept clear of the cops. I became cocky. I saw a man get into a Corvette and decided I wanted a Corvette. I got in next to him and held a gun to his head. It was a toy, but he didn't know that. It turned out this was a police sting, and I didn't know THAT. Before I could blink, a cop I hadn't seen had a gun to MY head and the guy behind the wheel was showing me his badge and reading me my rights.
My lawyer did everything he could but I was sentenced to 40 years to life. I swore I wouldn't do time and had my lawyer appeal. He got me some sort of a deal, but it wasn't much. I was considered an incorrigible, violent criminal. The only way the judge would commute my sentence was to maximum pacification and 21 years. That wasn't what I had in mind at all, but I wouldn't serve hard time so I took it. Pacification was a new treatment for violent criminals. Since no one had found a way to make them less violent, they found a way to make them less dangerous. Pacification meant you were given DNA altering drugs that made you a female and as mild, cheerful and docile as a kindergarten teacher. Assault convictions required that you were also made short and fat so you were no longer intimidating. However, if there were guns involved you had to serve a sentence, sort of. Instead of spending years in jail, you were aged. You wouldn't be a danger to society as long. Maximum pacification plus 21 years meant I would get the whole treatment. I would become a short, fat woman and aged 21 years! And any convictions after pacification meant a sentence of dehumanizing! I'll let you guess what that was. On a cold, wet January day, I was taken to a police hospital for step one; becoming a petite woman. The doctor had a sense of humor. He selected DNA from a girl I used to fuck. Lauren was getting a twin sister.
The injection was into my neck, into my pituitary gland. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt. I was strapped into a chair of some kind. Why? I found out about 10 minutes later. Without warning I broke out in a cold sweat, then got feverish and began to shiver. My skin tingled. They put a mirror in front of me so I could see what was happening. I was nude and glistening from the perspiration on my skin. I wasn't sure but my hair seemed longer. The alternating cold sweats and fever continued. It was very draining. Looking up I noticed my hair was longer and I had a beard! As I watched the hair on my scalp grew longer and longer. So did my beard - for a time. Just about when my hair was down to my shoulders my beard began to fall out in clumps. Soon my face was bare and smooth - and changed! It had become softer, rounder. A girlish face. The shivering grew worse as I seemed to lose control of my muscles. Now my body hair was falling out in clumps, too. Soon, I was soft and smooth all over. Everywhere I looked there seemed to be a slight layer of fat under my skin. The next thing I know, it felt like someone was pulling my balls out by the roots. I screamed and thrashed wildly until I passed out from the pain.
When I came to, the pain was replaced by a dull throb. I looked down at my groin. My cock and balls had been turned into a swollen, puffy mass they didn't look like it belonged on a man or a woman. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!" I screamed in a new soprano voice. Slowly, the grotesque bulge shrank, accompanied by spasms in my belly, until it became something that at least looked human. In fact it was VERY human. It was a pussy. I again looked in the mirror and saw a girl. I was a skinny, adolescent version of Lauren. I was short and slim, almost skinny. Long blond hair fell over my shoulders and covered my still flat chest - with absolutely HUGE nipples. I was what I assumed Lauren looked like when she was 12 or 13.
They let me out of the chair and examined me. I had shriveled to 5'2 and only weighed 83 pounds! I was less than half the person I used to be, and very tired. A nurse had me take a quick shower then I was dressed in a flouncy, pink dress with puff sleeves. My feet were placed into white socks with lace trim and patent-leather pumps. My hair was combed out then tied back with a big, pink bow. OH NO! I was a little girl! My tiny, dainty body was taken to a new room. It was decorated very lavishly, and femininely. It had a canopy bed and was filled with dolls. I was told I would live here for the next 3 months, until I had 'adjusted' and could safely receive my next treatment. Just to drive home my new status, my name was to be Lauren, too. Lauren Beth Taylor. That was a fiendish move. I had known Lauren since grammar school. Now, whenever I didn't know what to do, I would do what I thought she would do. Lauren had become my role model. Little by little, I began to act like her, even talk like her.
It seemed like only yesterday that I was strapped into that awful chair, but now I was going back into it tomorrow. Outside I could see flowers blooming. I had been so cocky then, in more ways than one. This time I was scared. A lot had happened to me in the last 3 months, but now I had to get ready for ballet class. I took off my floor-length nightgown and looked at my nude, pudgy body. Since my first day as a girl they had been stuffing me with rich food at every meal, plus frequent snacks. I had put on 27 pounds! The new fat, especially the way it settled on my body, increased my sense of femaleness. All of me was soft and round and - wide. I was beginning to stick out in places that I didn't have before. The fleshiness of my chest and butt was the most disturbing. The pink leotard fit snugly, revealing every new curve and bulge - and my complete lack of muscles or testicles. I had also grown boobies. About three days after my transformation I awoke to find my nipples swollen and sore. They continued to expand and got so sore that I had to rub some cream into them twice a day so they wouldn't hurt so much. Within 2 weeks they had me wearing a training bra. That was also the time I started my first period. The cramps were so awful! I spent most of the next 2 days in bed with a hot-water bottle on my tummy - and I would go through this every month for years! UGH! I wanted to die. During the second month they had some real, little girls come over for a slumber party. After that the dance school held a cotillion. I wore a very frilly dress with white gloves and everything. Naturally, I had to dance with all the squeaky-voiced, pimply-faced boys ... just to remind me of EXACTLY what I had become.
Ballet class wasn't too bad, just embarrassing. The moves were making me more graceful and feminine in my bearing, which is exactly what they wanted. In the mirror I saw a chubby young girl with the start of a woman's figure and perky, little tits bouncing merrily. They were beating the tough guy out of me by making me a helpless little girl. They were succeeding, too. To get over my bouts of depression I began to sleep with a dolly. After class I put on a pair of pink shorts over my leotard, some sneakers and put up my hair in pigtails. Now that I was a 'big girl,' meaning I had breasts, I was allowed to wear some lipstick. In fact, they had been teaching me about clothes and make-up. The rest of the day, like all the previous days, was spent skipping rope, playing with my dolls or, of course, eating.
I was trembling as I approached the chair. Two orderlies had to hold me down this time to get the straps on. No more strolling casually to the infernal device and humming while the straps were tightened; no more arrogant - manly attitude. Now I was just a frightened little girl. Again, the injection was into my neck. I stared at the clock, waiting for the agony to begin. After about 10 minutes I began to feel a twitching in my groin, again. I steeled myself for the suffering to come. It never did. What I felt for the next few hours was just about as far from suffering as you could get!
It began with a tingling in my nipples and clitoris. I squirmed a little as I felt my pussy moisten. The incredible sensations built until I was moaning sexily. This was fantastic! I wanted to touch myself but couldn't because I was strapped down. UUUUU I wanted relief from this! Suddenly, the sensations overwhelmed me. "OOO! OOOO! Oh, yes. UUU! UUU! This is ... UUUUUU! AAAAAAA!" I had my first orgasm. That is, my first female orgasm. As my head cleared I looked down at myself. My breasts had grown! They looked like a woman's breasts now, and I had hair on my legs and pussy, and could feel it on my underarms. Looking in the mirror I could see I looked older, maybe 16 or 17. Then the tingling started again and I lost track of time. I spent over six hours in that chair and when they finally let me up I was a fully matured, young woman. I now looked my real age of 21. I had hairy legs and underarms and my bush looked like fur! I smelled of sex, too. As I was taken back to my room to clean up I noticed that I was checking out all the men. Especially their crotches! Wow! Was I ever sexed up. It kind of grossed me out to be thinking about sex with men - but I was just so HORNY!
I spent almost an hour in the shower. It only took a few minutes to shave my legs and pits, and trim my bush. The rest of the time was spent with my new 'shower massage'. I wonder if they heard my yips and grunts when I held it to my juicy cunt. I wrapped a towel around myself, remembering to cover my tits, and saw Lauren in the mirror. It was amazing. I was her twin now!
They started some fashion and make-up classes, and a little job training, then I would be released.... and married to my sponsor! I was getting used to being a hot chick, but I didn't think I would ever get used to being so tiny. One night I wore this outfit of black velvet palazzo pants and a floral print halter top. I walked sexily in the 5" heels. Every eye in the place was on me ..... and I wanted to fuck every guy I saw! My shower massage got quite a workout. The nymphomaniac phase passed as I learned to cope with my new sexuality. In fact, I became very shy and demure. I desired men but now was willing to wait for them to make the first move, though I did learn how to flirt. It was so addicting! I loved all the attention a beautiful woman gets. I met my future husband, Doug Burton, one afternoon. He was very handsome, but so old. He looked to be the same age as my father. Suddenly I remembered that in a few months ... I was going to be as old as my MOTHER! I excused myself and went to my room for a good cry. Doug understood.
We were married the next week. They had a nice gown for me with a veil and everything. I looked radiant that day. The honeymoon was wonderful, too. I was finally able to satisfy my carnal urges. OOOO It felt so good the first time I felt Doug's weight upon me; to feel his hard cock pushing against my moist pussy; to feel the exquisite pain of my hymen tearing as I surrender my maidenhood to my man. I loved my husband, I loved sex, I couldn't get enough. We returned from our trip and I settled down to married life. It was spring and everything felt brand new. It was wonderful to keep house and make meals for my big, strong hubby. We had a ritual of spending from noon until bedtime on Sunday, completely naked. It was tricky to cook like that, but fun. I wore lots of snug revealing clothes. It made Doug happy and made me feel sexy. Why shouldn't I? I had the figure for it.
The day after we had our Memorial Day picnic I got a letter reminding me to report for my next treatment. I was scared. With this session I was going to start getting older. I had adjusted to being female. Heck. I liked it now, but it was probably that same feminine outlook that made me fear aging. I saw some old pictures of Doug when he was my age. He was good-looking then, but now he was handsomer. Would I look as good in middle age? I wasn't so sure. When I walked through the doors of the treatment center, my stomach felt queasy. As they had instructed, I was wearing a loose-fitting A-line dress, but the men were still checking me out. Would they be doing the same when I left?
I was told to strip and after a quick physical I was placed in a chair and strapped in. An IV was inserted into one arm then a Plexiglas bubble was lowered over me. It had a fiendish looking probe or electrode at the top and it was soon pointed directly at me. A whining hum soon filled my ears and the probe gained a greenish-white glow. I began to feel warm and anxious. I was soon covered in sweat. I felt so weak, as if my life force was being drained from my body. In fact, that is what was happening. They were taking years from my life; my youth. I became groggy. I looked down at my breasts and gasped! The pert bouncy breasts I came in with were beginning to sag! And they were BIGGER! After an hour, it was over. The bubble was removed and I was helped from the chair. Oh no. As I stood up, I felt 100 years old. Every part of me was sore. They took me to a 3-way dressing mirror. My hair was grown out about 6 inches and my legs, pits and bush were badly in need of a shave. Actually, I still looked pretty good. I had gained 25 pounds and was getting a bit soft in the belly, but my hips had also widened and my boobs! I must have grown a whole cup size! I was - big. A close look at my face revealed that my youthful blush was gone, and there were faint lines around my eyes, but that was all, really. Yet I looked older. I was 28 now. Almost 30. Ugh.
I showered and shaved then got dressed. That was a problem. I couldn't fit into my bra! They measured me. I now weighed 130 pounds and my petite 32A/B-22-34 figure had widened to a womanly 36C-24-36. My panties fit like skin and I had to go braless. Fortunately, the bodice of the dress kept my tits from bouncing too much, but WOW! Did they ever stick out! Walking back to the car, I did feel heavier, but sexier, too. The extra weight had made me into a curvy, all-tits-and-ass, babe! On the way home I stopped and bought some new underwear and some clothes. Then I had my hair restyled and decided to become a bleached blond. Doug came home to find me in a slinky, black cocktail dress that showed off every inch of my new curves. My hair was fluffed up into a blond mane and my make-up was sexy. Walking into dinner, he had his hand on my now plump, round butt. I liked it there.
My belly was a little soft to wear a bikini, but I looked great in revealing one-piece swimsuits, and modest two-piece. I spent that whole summer by the pool and got the deepest, darkest tan of my life - all over. I was trying for the 'California blond' look. I had to watch my weight now, something I never had to before, but got some exercise at a local aerobics class. Doug and I went out a lot and I loved wearing slinky, little dresses that showed off my sexy body. My old palazzo pants & halter outfit no longer fit, but I got a new one in a size 8. I still looked great in it, though I had to hold my belly in a bit, and I had the slightest beginnings of love handles. At Doug's insistence, we spent all day Sundays naked, though I had added high heels that showed off my shapely legs, and a frilly, white apron for cooking. I adored to get fucked in a chair. Doug would sit with his big pecker sticking up and I would just squat, like some animal, impaling myself. I also liked to get it doggy-style.
It was a wonderful summer, but soon the leaves were starting to turn. It was the third of October as I walked into the treatment center. I wanted to feel like a sexy, young woman one last time, so against their instructions, I wore a tight, knit dress and brought my - bigger - clothes in a small suitcase. Based on my last change, they were able to predict my new size so I wouldn't have to go shopping afterwards. I would be grateful for that before the day was over. Again, after a quick physical (I had lost 3 pounds) I was placed in the bubble and the IV was attached. The machine began to hum, I began to tingle and my next change began. I became weak and feverish as seven more years of my life were drained away. The first thing I noticed was my tan fading to a fish-belly white complexion, and then an incredible itch as my legs grew hairier than ever! What was happening! The doctor's voice came over a speaker. "This is my favorite part, sweetie. This where you thugs understand this is punishment. Up until now, it's been fun. Right? Wearing pretty clothes, getting that new pussy broken in. Well now you pay - granny." The hum grew louder. My soft, slightly rounded stomach expanded into a round, jiggly potbelly. My hips grew thick, my legs got heavy. My full bosom inflated as it began to sag towards my swelling gut! I moaned from the pain. My weight was increasing so fast I was getting huge, red stretch marks on my tits, belly and thighs! Looking down I also saw my arms were getting fleshy.
The machine had completed its work and I was let out. I groaned as I stood up. I felt like I was 100. Every part of me was sore. The doctor spoke to me. "Did you spend much time on the beach, sweetie? Get a good tan?" she gloated. "Yes. Why?" "That explains all those wrinkles - ma'am. Good thing you're fat, or it would be a lot worse. A good moisturizing cream might help - a little." My heart sank. Bracing my hands on my sore back, I shuffled to the mirror. I jiggled all over. As my eyes saw the new me, I began to sob softly as the reality of my life hit me. They were turning me into a fat, old woman. As I stared at my ruined body the doctor mentioned that now that I was middle-aged my husband could decide to have me stay this age and gain an extra 50 pounds instead during my last session. That was a tough decision. I didn't want to get any older ... but I didn't want to get any fatter either!
My face was full, with chubby cheeks and the start of a double chin. I had deep crow's feet and laugh lines. My fat, pendulous breasts sagged onto my big belly. My thighs were chubby! And my cunt was a forest of thick, curly hair! I turned sideways and gasped at my protruding ass. There were also some gray hairs at my forehead! I took a shower and shaved my furry legs, pits and bush. It took me 20 minutes to trim my pussy and then shave it bald. My flabby, upper arms were jiggling the whole time. Then I wished I hadn't shaved. The dramatic weight gain had made my cunt lips fat, too!
After my shower I was weighed and measured. I was 152 pounds with a plump 40D-30-42, size 16 figure. I put on my bra. Damn! I was so big! I wondered what I would look like at ... at 230 pounds! The huge, white panties and ..... control-top pantyhose felt weird on my newly fattened, hairless vulva. I put on a blue, knit suit with a pleated, calf-length skirt and 3" pumps. Ugh. It was an appropriate outfit for a plump woman entering middle age - like me. I drove to a beauty salon and had my hair re-done. They colored my hair to get the gray out then did it into a long page-boy with bangs. The stylist discreetly suggested that my upper lip get bleached. Blushing, I agreed, noting the slight moustache I never had before. I was thrilled. I was looking younger already. The cosmetologist showed me how to apply foundation and blusher to 'hide the lines' and make my face look thinner. When they were done, I felt like a new - woman?
I hurried home to make Doug a nice dinner. I hoped he wouldn't be too shocked at the new me. It turned out that I was one who was shocked. Doug walked through the door. The change in my appearance registered on his face, but it was a happy face! Then I noticed the bulge in his pants! He LIKED me this way! Dinner was late because he fucked me on the floor! I shouldn't have worried so much. During the meal I told Doug about the option at my last session. He said he didn't want it. He liked me older - and I was going to get fatter anyway. Suddenly I teared up. I didn't like to hear him call me fat. I ran from the room but he found me in the kitchen. "Don't cry, baby. You've aged, but like a fine wine. Your body is getting sexier with each new pound. I've never been so turned on by a woman. This maturity agrees with you. I'm going to build you up now. By the time we're done, you'll be a big, beautiful matron." I was at peace. My man accepted me as an old woman. He preferred it! Now I could settle down and enjoy middle-age. We finished dinner and Doug hand fed me the dessert. I ate until my belly hurt.
The next morning we made love again. I could see the new cellulite on my fat thighs as I wrapped my legs around him. But I wasn't upset. I was content. For the first time in my life, I was truly content. Up until now the old anger that had made me a criminal had been controlled, but now it was gone. It felt good.
We settle down to a quiet life as the mature couple we were. I cooked and baked and kept house. I had my soap operas and joined a garden club. Doug came home from the office and we would have a nice dinner and watch TV, or make love. Occasionally we went out to dinner or a movie. On weekends he played golf and I baked. The holidays had the expected effect on me. I cooked and baked a lot and we visited lots of our friends, and I gained 15 pounds! By the first week of the New Year I weighed 167# and wore a size 18. I had to shop in plus-size stores. Fortunately, Doug liked my big, fat ass.
I was still a little nervous when I returned to the clinic for my last treatment. When I told them my decision about not taking the extra weight, the doctor said, "Suit yourself, granny. Get in the chair." I undressed my plump, flabby body and settled in. The IV was attached and the dome lowered. I waited for the hum. I closed my eyes when it began. Again, something was different. I could feel myself growing. I looked down at my breasts and saw my nipples expanding! My legs, pits and bush grew furry and I felt - odd between my legs. I groaned as this sense of aging overwhelmed me. Before too long it was over.
I needed help to get out of the chair, I was so stiff. My now huge breasts sagged fatly onto my new paunch. My belly was really big. I was spherical! Walking to the mirror I noted I had acquired a slight waddle. I gasped. I was a ball of flab, with heavy, cellulite dimpled thighs and ass, and big, stretch marked tits flopping on my Buddha belly. My face had changed, too. I had a double chin and fat, jowly cheeks. Of course, my crow's feet and laugh lines were deeper. My hair was completely gray, too. The biggest shock came after I showered and shaved. My pussy had become fat and flabby, too! I now had a bloated, rippling vulva filling the space between my chubby thighs. The doctor said I had become a 'soft ride.' I didn't want to tell her, but Doug was going to like this. Though I was nearing 200 pounds now, with a 42DD-35-46, size 22 figure, I decided to wear a calf-length, knit dress and boots. The belt just barely made it around my paunch. I was now an aging, suburban matron, so why try to hide it? On the way home I had my hair done. I had it trimmed into a wavy, shoulder-length, layered cut with bangs. It was a mature style, but elegant. I decided not to have my hair colored. Instead, I had a rinse to bring out the highlights and became a silver fox. I also had my lip waxed and scheduled electrolysis to remove it permanently.
For some reason I was feeling sexy. I started dinner than went upstairs to change. I put on one of Doug's dress shirts, with the sleeves rolled up, and black high heels - nothing else. The shirt was snug! And my shoes were tighter, also! I applied a glamorous amount of make-up. I took a deep breath and noted the way my nipples stuck out. This was amazing. I had really big tits. I lifted the shirttail in front and my fat, hairy pussy came into view. Wow! I barely looked human. Looking at the new, queen-size, me I said, "Doug. I hope you like big women, because you're married to a real porker." I greeted my husband dressed this way. Without speaking we melted into each other's arms and lowered ourselves to the floor. Doug's pants were down and I heard a gasp, then a contented moan, as he slid into newly enlarged pussy. I felt my flesh rippling with every thrust, but I didn't care anymore. MY man wanted me - like this.