WARDEN JASMINE OLENSKA 1-844-332-2639 x 262

“Well– Ivana” said the judge with a hearty laugh. “You do turn me on, Let’s see if you can turn me on enough for me to grant that  parole…” This is it, thought Ivan. The last six months have been leading toward this very moment. All the painful waxing, the plucking, the pantyhose, the endless and painful hours of learning to walk in three inch heels. The hormone injections administered by his own mother that have given him curves and transformed his once flat chest into the supple breasts of burgeoning young woman.”Stand, Ivana! Give us a twirl! After all extreme shyness it is not at all becoming trait for debutante!” Ivan’s face burned with shame beneath the creamy foundation and powder applied by the servant girls expert hands. His figure adorned in an above the knee length navy blue skirt, white button down blouse and a simple string of pearls, he looked like any ordinary female office worker in Minsk.

And beneath this outer apparel, his body was tightly encased in a restrictive panty girdle, his waxed, hairless legs in soft, silky Wolford pantyhose.

As he stood before the judge and jury, he spun around while his mind drifted back to earlier in the day. It  seemed like an eternity but in reality was a mere hour in the past. At the beginning of the trial, the trial of Ivan/a Denesovitch, his mother had been the first to take the stand. She  been carefully coached for months on what to say. And she knew that this was the only chance for her baby to escape perpetual imprisonment. “He was never like other boys” she said, “he was always…”

Warden Olenska, dressed smartly in a blue dress that hinted subtly at the luscious body that lay beneath, called out stridently from the back of the courtroom… “LIKE GIRLY MAN!”

“Yes,” his mother wept, “he cannot go back to the men’s prison!

“He…I mean..SHE is not man! She is woman!”

The judge cleared his throat. “Spare me these theatrics, Mrs Denesovitch. I cannot stand the tears of womens. I have seen the records. I have examined birth certificate. He is MAN. Little bit of hair plucking, some pink on the cheeks and lips, pantyhose on the legs, does not make woman” As his mother, walked back to her seat in a defeated posture, the judge turned his steely gaze to Ivan, running his eyes up and down Ivana’s body. Ivana could sense the judges growing lust. He remembered what Matushka, one of the servant girls had drilled into his head over and over.

“Lean forward. Show the men your breasts. They go half mad for the breasts of women!”

The judge licked his lips and said “Mmm–from here, you do look like woman. Come. Come closer that I may see you better”. Ivana, swinging her hips, obeyed. The judge grunted. “Is pretty outfit you have on, Ivana. Let us see those legs.” Biting her rouged lips, Ivana turned her ankle that the judge could better observe her legs.

“Ah I see you have not forgotten your pantyhose. Wolford, I hope.”

Ivana, batting her eyes demurely replied in the soft feminine voice she  had spent months perfecting, “Of course, Your Worship. A real woman would not settle for anything less.” “And real man appreciates real woman,” said the judge with a wink. “I assure you, Your Worship, I am a real woman!” “Well, Ivana” said the judge with a hearty laugh. You do turn me on, Let’s see if you can turn me on enough for me to grant that  parole…”

And then the floor show began.

Ivana began a graceful stride before the judge, Warden Olenska, her mother and the jury. For one horrible moment, the three inch heels which s/he had worked so desperately to master, interlocked, causing a slight stumble forward. But she quickly regained her composure. Looking over, she saw her mothers reassuring smile and nod. I’m doing it, thought Ivan. I am passing, But at what cost?  

He had never thought that it would spiral out of control like this. It was like some madman’s nightmare! But it was now his reality.

“Yes,” cried a man from the gallery. “Shake those bubs for us baby!” Ivana heaved her breasts sending a collective gasp of arousal from all the men in the courtroom. The push up bra is working, thought Ivan. Just like the servant girls told me it would! But as much as he knew the necessity of his successful transformation, the humiliation  of it was excruciating.

“Order! Order”, cried the judge, banging his phallic gavel down HARD.” I will have order in this courtroom. This is court of law, not peep show.”

He turned back to Ivan and said gruffly,  “Take your seat”. The judge grew silent, steepled his fingers beneath his chin and reflected deeply. The courtroom was now so quiet, you could hear nail drop on the floor. After what seemed hours of deliberation, the judge spoke: “This case it has become– somewhat perplexing. On outside you do seem like woman. But is it only outer facade? Time perhaps will tell.” He rounded upon Ivan’s mother.

“You have stomach to see this through, Madame? It is for you to take complete responsibilty for making this person woman. You must increase her femininity. Because if you do not take responsibilty for Ivana, the consequences are dire.”

“Yes your honour,” replied Mrs Denosovitch in a quaking voice. “I will take responsibility. I should have done this long past.

“He was never meant to be he. He was meant to be she.”

The judge nodded assent, picked up his quill pen and began to sign some papers with a flourish. Ivan stirred in his seat, a ray of hope in his heart. It had worked! He passed the trial! But in his excitement, his legs parted in a most unfeminine fashion.

Warden Olenska advanced upon him and with her steel ruler and smacked Ivana’s pantyhose clad knee. “Legs together, little woman. Do not forget, no not for one moment who and what you must be now!”

The judge continued. “This path will not be short and it will not be easy. And any mistakes will not go unnoticed and will not be tolerated. You will be back here, young woman– to the men’s prison.” He chuckled.

“Yes back to men’s prison. With breasts! So I am instructing the secret police to make surprise spot checks to your home to check on feminization progress. And make sure your mother is keeping her word to take responsibility for your continued transformation.”

With a victory under her panty girdle, Ivana and mother were whisked out of the courtroom by Warden Olenska and her team of smartly dressed female prison guards. Under his breath, he whispered, “we did it mother, we did it!” He could not understand why his mother still looked so sad. Because he did not realize they were being led into the back of a government issued vehicle. With his mother on one side and Warden Olenska on the other, Ivan sheepishly asked, “Where are we going?”

“Why, to hospital of course,” said Warden Olenska with a cruel smile. “There are several big snips in your near future…It is now time for sex change operation–MISS IVANA DENOSOVITCH”.

Ivana’s eyes widened in shock and confusion.  

Now the real trial would begin.

 

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