First steps

-I'm such a sexy bitch...- You giggle.

The woman you're admiring in the mirror is far different from your previous identities. A polar opposite to your old male self, but also a world away from Kim's; and it's strange to feel those identities subside in you, especially Kim's, who you were just starting to think of as your own; yet, all the worries you had about assuming Trish's role are gradually vanishing. Besides, with Kim's arrogance and your sexual perversion piloting this curvaceous form, you're surely destinated to achieve great things.

This last thought reignites a spark in your groin. Perhaps is not very opportune for a woman of your status to indulge in sexual stimulation for so many times in a row, but... why wouldn't you?

-Mmm... ahh...-.

You sit on the marble countertop, resuming the exploration you've accomplished during the shower. The contours of your inner walls, the thrill of pleasure that each stroke emanates, you're starting to get acquainted with all of this; not that this makes it less enjoyable.

After some minutes, you decide it's time to get dressed. From the countertop, you take the white lingerie you quickly chose before getting in the stall (after all, you had more important business) and firstly slip up your panties. The way they cling to your hips, hugging them gently yet tightly, and having your digits once again this close to your bush, makes you succumb to your instincts for another time, and you concede yourself a final pair of caresses. Meanwhile, in arousal, you bite one of your fingers.

"Exquisite...".

Next, comes the bra and, oh, it's sizes bigger than Kim's one. Yet, it supports your new bosom perfectly, somehow being a seal of the actuality of your new form. These tits, this femininity, are truly yours.

Here it is. Trish Martinez, almost presentable. You simply add a pair of heels and a satin, laced babydoll robe in a bright pink that contrasts with your tanned skin.

-Perfect.- You say.

You exit the bathroom, your hips swaying at every of your step. Talking about inappropriate actions not to perform, surely being seen like this is part of them; but, after all, this is your house, and you decide the rules. And God, you've never felt this powerful like now...

While moving toward 'your' room, you stumble into the other occupant of your mansion. Your son is walking slightly hunchbacked with a wandering expression, and is probably directed to the shower himself after you ordered him to clean up your room. In a flash, you recall the moment in the bed when you realized you had him wrapped around your finger, when you could read in his eyes the total annihilation of his will. A subtle smirk lifts the corner of your mouth.

-Here you are, sweetie. Have you done what I said?-.

-Yes.- He replies faintly. You breathe dramatically, your chest inflating under the pressure of your lungs.

-Oh no Danny, this really won't do. From now on, you have to refer to me as "mother" or "mistress". Or "mommy" if I allow it. Is it clear?- You ask, a sultry yet imposing tone vibrating in your voice.

-Y-Yes, mother.- He nods slightly.

-Good.- You smile complacently. You could call yourself out now, but you see no reason to stop here, and you caress his cheek: -My poor boy. Did you like what you did with mommy? Aren't you glad that she shared her love with you?-.

-I... I... yes, mother...-.

-That's right. You are, Danny. And do you want to stroke your little cock thinking to mommy from now on?-.

-...yes, mistress...- He answers after some uncertainty. Your face, however, disfigures in a grimace of displease.

-That's a shame, Danny. You're not allowed to touch yourself anymore unless I say so. This is for your own good, do you understand it, right?-.

Your last command evidently leaves him heartbroken. Nay, more, he's ****, broken, humiliated. He looks up at you, straight into your eyes in a silent plea.

-Right?- You repeat.

He nods.

-My poor body. Come here.- You hug him, being careful to press your body on his. You can feel him shuddering in your hands, especially as you "accidentally" brush your groin onto his.

-I don't want you to become like the scumbag of your father. I'm so sorry, sweetie.-.

His mouth opens several times, trying to articulate a sentence. It's quite bothersome, to be honest, since he's breathing on your ear.

-B-But what about... o-other girls... I...-.

You abruptly straighten up, staring at him right in the eyes, a mocking of sorrow on your face: -Oh Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. You're not even allowed to fantasize about other girls. There is only mommy for you, don't you see? Someone like you... he will never find a girl for him outside. That's why you have to think only about me. Oh, honey! The world is unfair! But mommy is here for you.- you kiss him on the cheek. He blushes intensely, clearly suppressing his impellent urges with a might that he clearly would like to abandon, if not for the absolute power you have onto him.

-Now go. And remember: no touching~- You step away, letting him pass. On your visage, distress lets space to an evil smirk. Now that you've dealt with him, you can finally enter your bedroom, and it's... majestic. Again, not in an exaggerated sense, but it's suited to the style of a wealthy yet practical woman. A body-sized, rectangular silvery mirror, a designed large wardrobe, a comfy matrimonial bed with silk sheets: and these are only the details that catch your eyes in the first second, clearly being the items Trish herself was most proud of. Overall, the room is two times larger than Kim's, not to talk about Tom's one. You haven't looked at it with attention before, since you were having... other priorities, let's say; but now, through Trish's lens, this is truly-

Uh.

You sniff a few times. Gosh, there is still some stink of sex in there; and also the sheets, while replaced from the ones of before, are quite ruffled.

"That stupid kid." You think: "He cannot even clean up a room decently! Gosh, I guess total obedience doesn't overcompensate mediocrity.".

You thereby open the windows, a gust of air makes the transparent curtains wave, and you take a deep breath.

Much, much better. And what do your eyes see? The room is facing the other side of the house with respect to the street you've arrived, so you can now see the tiled pool dug in the garden, big enough to contain a student party, if you were still Kim. Well, not that you have to toss away the idea.

Now, back to the room. You spend little time in front of the mirror, you've already looked at yourself more than enough. Maybe later... but you know that Trish is loaded, and not just in her physical assets. Therefore, you open the closet, revealing a marvelous sight, a splendid variety that you hardly know where to start to describe. Shirts; skirts; shoes; and not only those: each type of garment, even some that you struggle to classify with Kim's experienced knowledge, lies implied on its shelf, and they are so many that you could probably select a different combination for each day of the year. This is the true demonstration of Trish's power, more than a pool or a big house: this is the unquestionable proof that if she desires something, she simply gets it. Now, you'll surely have time to explore those lower drawers where you know she keeps her lingerie but, currently, your attention is mostly captivated by the array of dresses hanging high above.

A satisfied smile graces your face as you select a couple of them: one is a form-fitting black ensemble, while the other boasts a floral pattern and a fuller skirt, with a more pronounced neckline. You hold them against your chest, one on each side, marveling at their beauty in the mirror. You shudder with pleasure, just the thought of wearing one of them is making you wet again.

You would look sexy and, well, and fitted. This is the most exhilarating part: these same clothes that would dangle loosely on Kim's lithe frame would instead adjust to your body simply perfectly, highlighting your curves even more than this teddy is doing. It's intoxicating and, intoxicated, you chuckle. The bed springs softly creak under your weight as you crumble unceremoniously on it. You let the dress fall peacefully on you, tingling your naked legs; then, your gaze shifts to the nearby bedside table, where an unattended jewelry box lies, yearning for your attention. Your hand reaches up and opens it, taking a random handful of jewelry from a set that, you feel, is no less impressive than the garments in the wardrobe. You hold them above your face: from your closed fist are dangling shining necklaces, glowing earrings, and gleaming rings. Slowly, you open your hand, and the rain of golden trinkets taps against your face, eliciting another excited giggle from you.

The exquisite adornments glide gracefully across your face, some delicately resting on your cheeks, while others intertwine amidst the strands of your loose hair upon the bedding. The mattress palpitates like a drum as you wiggle your legs and arms, while your girlish titter transforms into a resounding cascade of joy and pleasure.

This is truly yours. All of this. And you're going to make it even better.