I didn't want any of this. I wasn't even blonde! Ihad black hair, like my father. But now I was becoming Jack's fantasy,and the old me was being er...sed. My own thoughts were started to slipaway, replaced by something softer, something helpless. When I shouldhave been outraged, I started crying like a little girl. That thoughtonly made it worse.Falling face first onto the bed, I started crying and screaming, poundingthe pillow with my fist. Impossibly, my breasts were still growing.They. We were passing one of those male toilets at a street corner and I followed him down the stairs, where it seemed to get cooler, and the smell, a mixture of sewer and moth balls, caused my nostril to flare, the more we descended the stronger it became.Soon I was standing in a huge cavernous opening, much to my surprise, black and white floor tiling, and doors leading into small cubicles, but it was the off white porcelain openings where men stood to pee that held my gaze, the constant flow of. More

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