A Picture Perfect Sissy

It was strange listening to the three women discuss what had happened to him. In some ways, it was almost like listening them discuss something that happened to someone else entirely. But Jason tried to listen whenever his "story" was retold in the hopes of coming to understand how he ended up the way he had. He couldn't follow it, really, and his attention always seemed to wander off. Of course, Karen would always interrupt herself to tell him to go do something for her or her guests. Other times, he would be required to pose or lift up his skirt or even show what had become of whatever was left of his manhood. As a result, Jason never really did manage to piece it altogether and what did it matter, anyhow?

Perhaps one of the best things about it all, Karen often felt, was recounting how she'd reduced Jason to his current status in life. She had transformed a filthy sexist pornographer into a simpering sissy sex slave. Now instead of profiting off oppressed women, he was doing something decent with his life: posing for photos that would generate money to further topple the patriarchy. Karen loved the shame, guilt, and fear on Jason's pretty feminized face when she spoke of his "crimes." She knew that the former Jason would have tried to excuse his work as merely harmless consensual erotica. But not anymore. He had been rehabilitated to understand the error of his ways. And he was making amends.

"I'm sorry I took so long to have you over," Karen apologized to the black businesswoman. "But I have to go slowly with her. She has so much trouble meeting people from his old life. He still remembers, I guess. It's impossible to tell how much. Enough to be ashamed at what he's become, in any event, and even more ashamed at how much he likes it."

That was true, what Karen said, about him liking what he'd become, maddeningly true. Jason couldn't help himself. He'd heard Karen talk about some kind of gender rehabilitation that had supposedly been done to him.