A Very Good Boy

Christopher was a good boy.

Everyone said he was a good boy. His teacher did, his mother did
and his Aunt Roberta did. And Mr. Blenkinsop, the history
teacher, said he was a very good boy.

The only problem was, Mr Blenkinsop said, that Christopher was
not doing very well in history. Christopher was a popular boy,
and well behaved, but those English Queens had him totally
confused.

Mr Blenkinsop said he liked Christopher, and was willing to give
him extra tuition! Christopher's mother was VERY pleased,
because she could not afford a private tutor, but wanted to afford
Christopher every opportunity.

So it came about that, the following Saturday morning, if you had
been standing just outside Mr Blenkinsop's house, you would
have seen Christopher go cycling up to his front door, get off his
bike, lean it against the privet hedge, and push the big brass bell.

You would also, if you'd been looking, have seen Mr Blenkinsop
open the door, and welcome Christopher, tell him to wipe his feet
on the mat, usher him inside the house, and close the big front
door after him.

Inside, Mr Blenkinsop showed Christopher to the study, and
heated up a kettle to make some tea. Christopher sat down on
the edge of the leather settee and looked at all the books on the
shelves. He didn't see Mr Blenkinsop carefully pour some white
powder from a screw of paper into one of the cups before bringing
in the tea things on a tray.

Mr Blenkinsop started talking about school, and Christopher's
class mates, and the girls at school, and history, and other things
of no importance as he poured the tea, and passed a cup - THE
cup - to Christopher, along with a plate of cookies. Christopher
drank his tea without gurgling it, as he'd been taught, and had
one cookie - out of politeness. The tea tasted strange, but he
assumed it was some expensive blend that he was unfamiliar
with, and that he was a very lucky boy to be given it.

Mr Blenkinsop came and sat next to Christopher on the settee,
and Christopher found that Mr Blenkinsop's voice had a
hypnotic, droning quality to it. Pretty soon, although he was
hearing the words, and was able to respond to them it was with
all the animation of a zombie.

Mr Blenkinsop checked his watch and cleared the tea things into
the kitchen. As he washed up the cups, he thought about the
many times he had invited Christopher around in the past. The
first time, how carefully he had hypnotized the boy - a job made
easier subsequently by the introduction of the mind altering drug
that he slipped into Christopher's tea. Mr Blenkinsop checked
his watch...another few minutes, and the drug would be at full
power. Mr Blenkinsop reflected on how lucky he was to have
found Christopher. He looked at Christopher, sitting on the
couch, upright but deep in the trance. The boy was small for his
17 years, slim and lithe without an ounce of surplus fat, blonde
haired and blue eyed, and still too young to shave. All of which
added up to a perfect candidate for the teachers very special
requirements.

By the time the tea-things had been put away, Mr Blenkinsop
decided it was time to proceed to the next stage of the plan. He
sat down next to the boy and whispered into his ear. Christopher
felt, rather than heard, Mr Blenkinsop tell him to follow him. He
stood up and with sure steps mounted the stairs. When he got
into the bedroom that had been prepared with loving attention to
detail, he found that he wasn't surprised to find, laid out on the
bed, a beautiful satin peignoir; with a blonde wig and makeup on the
dresser, and heels and stockings by the side of them. Under Mr
Blenkinsop's insistence, he sat at the dresser, having first
undressed completely, and found that he seemed to know
instinctively how to apply makeup. He added a pair of gold
earrings and placed the lush blonde wig on his head, brushing
the golden hair into an exciting, feminine young style.
From the bed, he picked up the silky stockings, rosing them up
before slipping them up his silky young legs. Next, he fastened
a wide, black satin garterbelt around his slim waist, and as he
fastened the 4 elstic straps to the stocking tops, he was seemingly
oblivious to the way the black satin framed his small blonde bush,
with the boyish cock most invitingly.
Next, he picked up the silk teddy slipping it over his slim hips
before slipping the straps up his slim arms. Next he slipped into the
peignoir, arranging it loosely across his shoulders before tying the
ends firmly at her waist. Finally, a pair of black patent leather
heels
completed the picture as she stood coyly before a full length mirror
and struck a sultry pose. Christopher was now Christine.

She stood there, a beautiful robot awaiting orders. Mr Blenkinsop
watched
her, savoring the next moment. After a moment or two, he whispered
softly to her. The effect was startling, like a doll coming to life.
Fire flashed in her eyes and she took a couple of deep breaths
She turned to look at herself in the mirror and, when she saw her
image,
let out a soft moan. She saw Mr Blenkinsop approach her and gently
caress her shoulders. She turned to him, put her arms around his neck

and gave him a deep kiss, her tongue probing its way into his mouth.
She could feel his hardness push into her belly. Eventually, she
pulled
away and lay back on the bed, inviting Mr Blenkinsop to join her. He

dropped his trousers and pants and hopped over to the bed. As she
wiggled into his arms she again turned her mouth towards his, seeking
his kisses before instinctively turning away from him, arching her
pert little bottom for his enjoyment, wiggling it against Mr
Blenkinsop
as he had taught her, so long ago.

When Christine had heard the command to wake up, she had
become aware of more energy flowing through her than ever
before. She looked at the reflection of Mr Blenkinsop, behind her.

, she thought. She turned to kiss him, to keep him
sweet. She lay back onto the bed and
readied herself for his onslaught. As he forced his way into her,
she remembered an incident that had occurred only that week!
Christopher had been walking through a shopping mall with
some school buddies, and had stopped to gape at the sexy clothes
in the window of a lingerie store. Christine had felt her self
awaken, and was soon eying the satin panties and lace bras on
display. She had felt her pussy get wet and had only been
frightened back inside Christopher by his friends jostling him
and joking crudely about his rather obvious erection.

She felt Mr Blenkinsop's hand encircle her excited young cock. , she thought,
She squirmed round in the bed, and continued to play the game,
moving herself into the classic '69' position. She took Mr
Blenkinsop's small, rather pudgy, member into her mouth, and
began the movements that she had learnt would please him.
, she thought, distastefully,

Her excitement produced the required result and she squirted a
stream of hot jism down Mr Blenkinsop's throat. In turn he
managed a few drops of a rather clear liquid to trickle onto her
tongue. She clambered off the bed and ran into the bathroom.
She washed her mouth out and gargled with his mouthwash. , she thought. She gave a groan as she felt a familiar stirring in her

loin. She looked at the clock. , she thought with a smile.

She went back into the bedroom. "It's time", she said. Mr
Blenkinsop tried to reason with her, but she was adamant. "I can
feel him stirring, wondering what's happening. If he comes back
when 'he' looks like this....", she slid her hands up and down her
body, sensuously, "....he'll figure out what's going on and never
come back". Mr Blenkinsop had to agree, and watched as
Christine sat down at the dressing table, pulled her wig off, and
started taking off her makeup.

A few minutes later, she was back downstairs, dressed in
Christopher's cutoffs and t-shirt. Mr Blenkinsop moved in for one
last kiss, but she backed away. "Not when I'm dressed like this,"
she said. "You know I can't". She sat down on the couch. "Do it!",
she commanded, "Do it now!". Mr Blenkinsop sighed, sat down
beside her and started whispering in her ear. A few minutes
later, he was describing to a confused Christopher how he had
fallen asleep during the History coaching.

If you had still been watching Mr Blenkinsop's house later that
same day, you would have seen Christopher come out of the front
door, wave goodbye to Mr Blenkinsop and climB back onto his
bicycle. He felt good; it was a warm summers day, he was due to
meet some of his mates at the mall, and Mr Blenkinsop had
promised to give him some more coachingonto hollowing weekend.
You might even have seen Christopher stop smiling as he cycled
away, and then, if you listened carefully enough, have heard a
small sweet and sinfully seductive voice laughing evilly.

FIN