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*I need to see you Luke. Come to my house this afternoon, at around 5. There will be snacks.
Love, aunt Liz* ?

That damn message has been bouncing around in my head all day. What could she even want? And doesn’t she have anything else to do? I mean, I know we’re right in the middle of august, everyone’s on vacation and the scorching hot sun outside doesn’t really tempt one to do much, but come on!
Sadly, I don’t have a schedule busy enough to justify bailing on this mysterious encounter, and thus here I am, on her doorstep, hesitating before I ring the doorbell.

Elizabeth is my dad‘s sister. About six years younger than him, she’s a rich woman in her early fifties, enjoying a lavish and pampered life thanks to the financial speculations of her husband.
She’s a hardcore fashionista, obsessed with vintage brands: she once spent a whole month scouring second-hand shops all over Paris in search of an elusive pair of the first iteration of red bottomed loboutins, dated 1992.
Growing up she told me all about the history of fashion, ranging from meaningless personal anecdotes about great stylists all the way to the details of the production lines of the trendy brands I wore. Being an angsty, long haired boy I pretended not to care, of course. All that girly stuff was beneath me, I swore: little did I know at the time.

The doorbell rings. A soft voice replies in the distance, chirping happily.
“Come on in dear, I’ll be there in a second!”

I push the ornate wooden door open, entering the lavish home of my dear aunt.
I step into the antechamber and stand quietly. The white wooden door to the hallway that leads to my aunt’s room is closed, and I stare at myself from the full length mirror attached to it.

I smirk, observing the pale, soft skin of my cheeks: I have shaved perfectly, exactly as I planned. My deep blue eyes scan my body reflected in the mirror, looking for blemishes, and finding none.
Soft locks of long brown hair frame my features, and fall down my slender neck, reaching my shoulders.
My waifishly thin body is covered by a loose white silk shirt, and a pair of black tight trousers wrap around my long legs easily.
I turn my body to the right, so that I can see the conspicuous bump of a behind that fills the back of my trousers.
I put both of my hands on my asscheeks and feel them: they are plump, bouncy, it feels like the ass of a woman.
I look into the eyes of my clone in the mirror and bite my lower lip.

While locked in a sexy staring contest with myself, my opponent suddenly disappears: with a loud thud, the door swings open.
I try to hide my strange pose with an awkward step back, but it is too late: she has seen me.

She stands a couple of meters away from me, closing the door with a smug look painted on her supple lips, which are painted with a shiny bronze lipstick.
Slightly taller than me, her slender and well toned figure is wrapped in a sultry satin robe that ends right above the knee, black with small pink flowers.
I cannot help but notice she is barefoot, her toes painted in a glossy bronze tone that matches her lips and her sharp fingernails.
She crosses her arms and leans against the door, looking at me expectantly.

“Luke, I spoke with your mother,” she begins. Her voice is stern, but there is a strange tone to it, like she is secretly mocking me, like she knows something I do not.
What have I done? I don’t remember getting too drunk, and the last time I smoked a cigarette I chewed on so many mints that I must have come home smelling like a candy shop. Could it be…

“She found your little secret.”

My heart stops. I try to raise a hand and reply, but my pleading is cut short. Her lips part to speak again, and the subtle shine on them takes my breath away.

“She found a lacy crop top, a miniskirt, and a pair of platform sandals, with a chunky heel. All black, I must add. Good choice.
She was very confused, of course. Why would your girlfriend leave her clothes, hidden in an old discarded backpack in the corner of a room?”

She takes two steps towards me, the soles of her feet padding softly on the wooden floor. Her tongue clicks twice.

“Tsk tsk. She is too naive, but I know damn well what is going on. Notice the lack of underwear, first of all: how would Jessica cover her supple young breasts without a bra, her shaven little pussy without a pair of panties?”

“I… I can explain! I swear, she had to change during a night out, we didn’t want to go back to her house and…”
I mutter the lie I had prepared for the worst case scenario, but her sharp fingernail scratching against the underside of my chin stops me from blabbering any longer.

“The heels, Luke. Those sandals are far too big to fit Jessica’s dainty little foot. Thankfully, they are big enough to fit *your* dainty little foot.”
Her voice cuts through the air like a knife, and it makes my legs tremble, my cock twitch.

“Good choice on the chunky heels, they will help you keep your balance, find the right posture.”
She turns around and stands on her tiptoes, her feet arching up in the exact same shape of a stiletto, her muscles so used to the form that they don’t seem to need the support of the shoe anymore.

My eyes wander upwards, from her wrinkled, flexed soles to her legs, her thighs hidden by the robe, and then her ass, whose thick and shapely outline makes my heart skip a beat.

She turns around again, and struts slowly towards me without ever breaking eye contact, her expression focused and serious, like that of a cougar about to pounce.

“Open your mouth, *slut*.”

I follow her orders, unable to withstand. She cups my chin in her hand and jerks it upwards, looking down at me with a strange mixture of amusement and surprise.

“I want to help you, Luke. I want you to find your true self, and to do it under my guidance. I will baptize you, make you born again under my command. At the moment I am your aunt, but when my blessing touches you I will become your Mistress. In turn, you will be changed into my Slave.
I give you the opportunity to step back now, Luke.

But I think you will not take it.”

Her words echo in my ears, mixing together in an overwhelming wave of sound and information. I’ve heard all that I need to hear.

Her bronze lips part slightly, and a small, shiny bead starts trailing down from them.
My eyes follow her blessing, hypnotized by the shiny reflections on the slick surface of it. I do not move a muscle.

Her spit touches my tongue, and it tastes like Heaven, and it tastes like Hell.
I close my mouth, I close my eyes, and I swallow.

I was Luke, I am Luna, and this is my story.

NSFW: yes

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