Husbands Humiliation

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Husbands HumiliationHusbands HumiliationLosing my job devastated me. All my life I’d learned that the man must support his family. Any man who can’t be the breadwinner is not a man; he’s a loser – beneath contempt. Being a stock broker only made this worse. I was used to pushing around lots of money, of being in total control over people’s lives. Now I’d lost control of my own. I could push anyone around: a multi-national company, a millionaire client, my wife. For weeks, I woke up every morning wishing I could just crawl into a hole and die. I really hated myself. Even though my wife Stephie tried to help, she only made my feelings worse. Every time I saw Stephie, I saw my failure reflected in her soft eyes. I wanted to run, to scream. . . to cry. I hadn’t cried since I was a damn k**! Stephie tried to help, but her efforts only made things worse. The first week she left me to my shame. The second week she tried to cheer me up, but she just couldn’t understand what I was going through. She’d say: “That’s ok honey, I’ll earn enough for both of us.” “Just relax dear, I’ll support us.” and so on. She just couldn’t understand that I wasn’t worried about money, I had plenty of money in the bank. I needed my job to prove that I was the man. Her words cut into me like a rusty dagger. For weeks she fired off these encouragements at me in rapid succession. The humiliation stung so much that my self-respect began to die. I became quiet and passive. All my sulking and passivity slowly led me to a state where I began to do what Stephie said without question. I no longer believed I had the right to speak my mind or to demand anything of my own. This was a total turn around from the way our marriage had been. In the past I was clearly in charge. This felt like Stephie’d made me submissive to her. Imagine that, I felt powerless against my little wife. (Actually, at 5′ 5″ she’s not much smaller than my 5′ 6 & 1/2″. I guess being physically small made my need to dominate others even stronger.) I felt neutered. The third week, her comments seemed even more emasculating. “Don’t worry honey, I’ll take care of you.” “Don’t worry yourself about providing for us, I’ll take care of that.” “I’ve got things under control darling.” And at times, whenever I stalled in some task she’d given me, she would offer to help in the most humiliating manner: “do you need me to help you with that honey?” “If you need my help with that, just say so darling.” I once decked my boss for trying to condescend to me in this way. But I couldn’t strike Stephie. My inability to stop her only emphasized my powerlessness. Stephie’s comments always sent a warm, soft feeling of helplessness down my spine. I could feel myself physically weaken as she spoke. The more she spoke, the less my will to resist. At first, her words made me angry and I wanted to lash out. It took everything I had not to tell her to stuff it. I struggled to convince myself that I needed to just accept what she said without fighting back or getting angry. I worked hard to train myself to remain passive. As time passed though, I became accustomed to her words. Gradually I stopped resisting. I still felt the sting of humiliation, but it no longer angered me. In the fifth or sixth week, Stephie’s tone changed again. I guess she’d had enough of my moping. One day after getting home from work, while still in her smart suit and low heeled shoes, Stephie started on me. “Listen Paul, I think it’s time you stopped moping around the house. You may not be able to find a job outside the house, but that doesn’t mean you can’t work. There are lots of things that need to be done around here and I don’t have the time to do them, with my job and all.” I looked at Stephie. I knew she was right, but I didn’t like her tone. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t just ask me, why did she need to remind me of her job and my uselessness? “What did you have in mind dear?” I asked in the soft tone I’d adopted lately. “I prepared a list. These are your new duties.” “My duties?” I felt my face contort in shock. Who was she to tell me my “duties”? “Be quiet!” I was stunned. For the first time in my life, Stephie had just given me an order. In the past I would have told her where she could cram it, but surprisingly I couldn’t now. I don’t know exactly why, but being passive for so many weeks had sapped my will to stand up for myself. I stood there in stunned silence as she continued. “I’m not going to put up with this anymore. You can’t find a damn job so you’re as good as useless.” That stung. I felt my spine tingle and what little resolve I’d found break. “You’re going to start helping out around the house. I earn the money, I’m the breadwinner. You aren’t. That means I call the tune and you dance.” I could feel a horrified, confused look creep across my face. Stephie watched my face as she reached down and removed her shoes, one at a time. “Face it Paula, as long as I’m the ‘man’ of the house, you’re going to be the woman.” “What . . .” “Shut up, don’t ever interrupt me again. Now take this list and start working. I expect you to complete the items on this list everyday. Do you understand me!” Stephie handed me her shoes. They were still damp and warm. “You can begin by polishing these. Then get the rest from the bedroom and polish those too. Then start with the rest of the list.” Stephie turned her back to me and headed for the bedroom. I scanned the list, it was long. “But dear, how will I find time to interview if I have to spend all my time dusting, cooking, and shopping?” “That’s your problem. Besides, you haven’t gotten one interview since you lost your job. Now get to work and don’t say another word to me. You’ve made me angry.” Stephie closed the bedroom door behind her.For the next few weeks, I did all the housework. I cooked, cleaned and did laundry. I ironed. I shopped for food and cut the grass. I did my best, but that never seemed to be good enough for Stephie. The first week I could do nothing right. No matter how hard I cleaned, Stephie came home and found more dirt or identified something I’d missed at the store. Stephie always inspected my work the moment she got home, even before she removed her work clothes. The humiliation I’d felt before was nothing compared to what I felt watching Stephie walk around the house in her chic business suits and her pumps inspecting my work with me following her around, standing at attention in each room as she inspected. I felt like some sort of maid. As I’d predicted, this work took up so much of my time that I literally didn’t have any time to interview – not that many people wanted to interview me. I figured though, that I would free up some time soon because I was getting more efficient at doing my duties. Unfortunately, as I improved, Stephie added more. For example, “doing laundry” soon meant more than just separating colors from whites and ramming them into the washer. Now I found myself hand-washing her underwear and nylons. I also learned to repair rips and replace buttons. My part of the laundry, by the way, was becoming smaller and smaller as I began to wear out my clothes. Unfortunately, I wasn’t getting any. We didn’t have much money because we’d agreed not to invade our savings – I had the key, but the money was in her safe deposit box. Since Stephie’s paycheck didn’t go too far, Stephie refused to buy me new clothing; she spent our entire clothing budget on her work clothes. This caused me a lot of grief. Working with all the household chemicals was taking a toll on my clothes. One by one my shirts and pants were becoming stained and ruined. Soon I was reduced to wearing old tee shirts and shorts. I needed to learn to sew just to keep what I had. I asked her for money and when she refused I begged her to get some money from the box. I even gave her the key and told her she could control that money too, if she’d just buy me some new pants and shirts. Stephie took the key and then just laughed at my predicament. “It’s not my fault you’re careless. Soon you’re going to run out of clothes. Then what will you wear? Are you planning on going naked around the house? I won’t allow that.” Stephie looked down at me, she stood taller than I in her three inch heels. She’d begun to wear those lately, I think just to emphasize her superiority over me. I don’t think she’d ever worn three inch heels in the entire time I knew her until now. It made me feel very small and weak having to look up to her. I could tell she liked that because she often wore her heels around the house now, even after the nightly inspections. I can’t imagine many women would lounge around the house in three inch high heels unless they had a reason. “We’re going to have to buy new clothes.” I’d thought about bringing this topic up ever day for a few weeks now, but I didn’t have the nerve. Besides running out of work clothes, I wanted to go out with some friends, but I no longer owned the clothes to do that. I hoped to bring the conversation around to a point where I could mention that. Stephie wasn’t going to let me. “No. We can’t afford it.” “But what will I do?” “Well I’ll tell you Paula,” she’d started calling me “Paula” lately when ever we fought; she said my whining reminded her of a woman. “You’re not going to like this at all. Since you don’t see anyone working at home, you’re going to start wearing my hand-me-downs.” My jaw dropped to my knees. “I guess I can bare the thought of you in drag around the house, but don’t go visiting any neighbors – I don’t want them knowing the humiliations I endure being married to you.” “I what?! I can’t. . .” “Shut up Paula.” I froze obediently. A month ago I would have told her to go stuff herself, but for whatever reason I couldn’t say a thing. I guess I just realized that she really had me over a barrel. For months now I couldn’t find a job. I no longer earned a dollar and each day I didn’t, it became harder and harder for me to find a job. Stephie controlled all of our finances, so I couldn’t get a single dollar without her permission. I guess she also had a point: why bother replacing my clothes when I didn’t need them? No one ever saw me except her. Besides, I didn’t have to wear her most feminine clothes. I figured I’d just wear her jeans, maybe her shorts, and a few tee shirts. Nothing too bad about that. I guess those were the reasons I meekly accepted her will. Maybe I wanted to punish myself for my failings as a man. I don’t know. Whatever the reasons though, I remained mute. Stephie acted as if the matter were settled. She continued her walk around the house checking my work. I meekly followed her from room to room as she examined my work. Her every look nearly shamed me to tears. I knew she’d find a lot wrong today. Whenever we argued, she always found lots wrong with my work. She was going to keep me working all through the evening correcting all my “mistakes.” Don’t get me wrong by the way. I know I said “fought” and “argued” but we really didn’t fight these days. It was more a matter of her getting angry and me doing what she ordered. In a sick/funny sort of way, this is exactly the opposite of how it used to be. Whenever we argued in the past, I merely raised my voice and Stephie did as she was told. Of course, unlike her, I was only acting in both of our best interests. Stephie seems to be acting more or less without thinking about my feelings.The next day I wore Stephie’s clothes for the first time. Stephie “allowed” me to wear a pair of very tight pastel orange shorts. They looked like hot pants on me! I felt really gay. Underneath I wore panties. Things got worse. “I won’t have you ruining my clothes the way you ruined your own. From now on, when you work around the house, you will wear an apron. There are two in the hall closet.” I didn’t even try to fight her. What did it matter after all? I wore panties, hot pants and I painted my nails. It seemed kind of pointless to resist the apron. Besides, if I ruined the shorts, a skirt was definitely next! The next morning I saw the apron for the first time. I don’t think Stephie could have found a more feminine apron if she’d asked a designer to help her. This thing had lace and frills and a flowery pattern and everything. I laughed nervously to myself when I tied on the apron. With my bare legs sticking out below the apron, the effect was the same as me wearing a frilly white dress.A few days after our “argument” about my diminishing clothing stock, Stephanie came home with a proposition. Actually, it was more of a statement than a proposition, but she presented it to me as an option. “I’ve found a way to save a lot of money. Right now I’m spending almost $100 a week going to the beauty salon to have my hair and nails done. If you learn how to do my hair and nails, then I don’t need to go there anymore and we can save that money. If there’s any left after our bills, I’ll buy you some new clothes. How does that sound honey?” I was happy about the idea of ditching the sissy pants, but man, would the guys at the bar laugh at me if they ever found out I did my wife’s hair and nails! “I don’t know, that doesn’t sound like something a man would learn.” “Not something a man would do?! Would a man make his wife support him?!” That hurt. I ran from the room crying. That’s right, crying! With all the stress on me, and the constant feeling of guilt wearing down my will, I’d become much more emotionally sensitive these days. Whenever Stephanie criticized my cooking or cleaning, it really hurt my feelings. I can’t really explain it, but it hurt that I tried my best and she didn’t care. Of course, Stephanie helped me feel submissive. All day every day I performed humiliating tasks for her benefit. I always cleaned her underwear and nylons. I always hung up her clothes. Once a week I cleaned and polished her shoe collection. And so on. These duties always reminded me who was the boss. And as if that were not enough, when Stephanie came home, she continued her inspections; making me stand at attention in my sissy shorts and outgrown tee shirts while she inspected my work, towering over me in her high heels and business suits. She’d also told me not to call her “Stephie” anymore; from now on I was to call her “Stephanie.” She began to call me Paula much more regularly.As I lay crying on the bed, Stephanie came in. “There’s no use crying about it Paula, the matter is settled. Honestly, you’ve become such a sissy! Now wipe your eyes, get my make up kit and meet me in the kitchen.” I did as she told me. The rest of the night, Stephanie showed me how to do her nails. She began the training by working on my nails. As my nails became fire engine red one by one, she taught me about colors and cuticles and base coats and other things I never knew, or wanted to know, about. Soon my fingers dried and she moved on to my toes. When those too became bright red, she made me put what I’d learned into practice on her fingers. I learned quickly, but not quickly enough. I made two mistakes and would pay for each. “I see you need a lot more practice. You’re lucky that I have time tonight to let you correct these mistakes. On work nights, I won’t have that time. From now on, I want you to practice on your own nails twice a day.” Stephanie laid out the thirty-three different nail colors in her kit. “You will start in the morning by removing the color from the prior night. Then you will replace that color with a new color. When they’ve dried, I want you to use the Polaroid to take a picture of your work – fingers and toes. Then, in the afternoon, you will replace that color with a new color as well. Take a Polaroid of that one as well. You must go through each color once before repeating a color. When I come home, I will inspect your nails and collect the Polaroids. Then, after dinner, you can fix my nails for the next day.”The next day I did as she asked. It felt strange when I first saw my fingers bright red, but it felt even stranger as I made each of my finger tips silver. When everything had dried, I took the Polaroids and then started on my chores. I had to work extra hard to finish in time to repaint my nails before Stephanie got home. Stephanie was good for her word, she collected the Polaroids and inspected my fingers and toes with a magnifying glass. After that, she inspected the house and then we ate dinner. In the evening she made me redo her nails. We repeated these events every day. Soon they became normal. At first I hated the idea of painting my nails. I felt humiliated and embarrassed. But after awhile, it just seemed like one more duty. It even became relaxing because I could just sit and watch TV or read my sports magazines as I worked. Soon it even seemed natural to have “Rose”, “Honey” or “Mauve” finger tips as I flipped through the Super Bowl preview pages. (I swore I’d never tell anyone, but I actually began to like painting my nails!) Of course, I always removed the polish from my fingers before I went shopping.One night I mistakenly told Stephanie that I didn’t mind painting my nails because it gave me my only chance to relax during the day. In and of itself, this was no mistake. The mistake came when I told her that I used that time to watch Sport Center or the national news. The next day, as I sat down with my nail kit, I flipped on the TV to discover that Stephanie had locked out all the channels but the fashion channel and the Women’s channel. When she came home that night, I wanted to complain bitterly, but I didn’t have the time. I guess she knew my complaint was coming so she kept me too busy to bring it up. She literally didn’t allow me a free minute to complain! From the moment she got home, she rode me like a dog. Nothing I’d done during the day was right. In fact, so much was wrong that she made me skip dinner so that I would have enough time to finish all the rest of my duties. She also took that moment to tell me that I’d been gaining weight and that I was going on a diet. “Working through dinner tonight will be good for you.” “Should I still serve you dinner?” “No. I’ll order a pizza.” And she did. Out of spite, Stephanie let the pizza boy in while she got change out of her purse. This gave him the full view of me as I worked. I wore my sissy shorts, a dress like apron, and long red nails. The flab on my chest even bounced a bit when I walked. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him staring at me. Then he began to laugh. On his way out, he said, “Good night ladies.” When he left, I stormed over to Stephanie. “I don’t apprecia. . .” “How dare you! Be quiet!” My resolved vanished. My strength melted. My will collapsed. I went from angry husband to quavering jello- like submissive. I cringed, waiting for the verdict on my outburst. Stephanie’s justice was always swift and vicious. “I will not take that from you Paula! Get back to work. And don’t you ever, and I mean ever, speak unless you are spoken too again. If you do, I’ll make you greet the pizza boy in a dress and give him a big kiss. Do you understand me sissy?!” “Yes ma’am.” I scurried back to the living room to finish my dusting, relieved that the punishment was so light. It was difficult to tell where I’d left off with the dusting since I’d done a perfect job in the morning, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I started over. As I worked, I still shook with fear and choked back tears. Soon I was near the end of my list, with only the kitchen floor left. It looked like I would still have some free time. I knew Stephanie was not in a good mood, but I had regained my resolve. I was determined to bring up the TV situation! Just then, she called me into the family-room. She sat on the couch watching TV, which she muted as I entered. Apparently my TV blackout wasn’t to be lifted for even a few seconds. “When you’re done with that filthy kitchen floor, you will polish each of my shoes.” “Yes ma’am.” Boy did I stand up to her! As she watched the nightly business report and world news, I ran myself ragged trying to re-mop the kitchen floor and polish her shoes. Usually I don’t polish her shoes until the weekend, but she had a big meeting the following day and wanted it done tonight. She said she needed all of them done because she wasn’t sure which ones she wanted to wear the following day. I didn’t buy the explanation. I don’t think she meant me to. After the shoes, I fixed her nails. I tried to speak, but I saw myself kissing the pizza boy. I waited for her to mention the TV, but she didn’t. Without a word said by me that night, she sent me to bed. I never got the chance to bring up the TV problem.Of course, I didn’t bring up the lock out the following day either. Or the following day or the one after that. Since Stephanie never mentioned it, I never got the chance to talk about it. I just didn’t dare bring it up on my own! Slowly my life changed. Because Stephanie took the newspaper to work with her every day and she switched off the TV whenever I entered the room in the evenings, I was now cut off from the real world. I never even knew how the Super Bowl ended. I felt more alone than ever. The next day she told me to gather up all my sports magazines and place them in a large box. Because I could see what was coming, I only placed half my magazines in the box. I placed the other half into a dusty old box in the upstairs closet. While Stephanie spoke on the phone I snuck the box back to the closet and set it on the top shelf in the back. The box was heavy enough that Stephanie couldn’t retrieve it without my help and dusty enough that she wouldn’t want to. The remainder of the magazines went into the other box, into the trunk of her car, and off to who-knows-where. From then on, when I did my nails I read my old sports magazines and watched the fashion channel. I guess I should admit though that after a while the same magazines got kind of boring and I eventually started reading Stephanie’s fashion magazines (the only new magazines she allowed into the house). Soon my sports magazines were all but forgotten up in the closet.The following weekend, Stephanie came home with a bunch of hair care bottles and a new hair drier. For the past four months, Stephanie had refused to give me any money to get a haircut. At this point, my brown hair hung down to my shoulders. I don’t know if she planned it this way or whether it was all a coincidence, but now Stephanie could use my long hair to teach me how to take care of hers. Like my nail training, she told me that I needed to take care of mine the same way I took care of hers. I hadn’t revolted much during the past few weeks, but this time I did. “I hate having long hair. It always gets in my face.” This wasn’t my main point, but it was better than silence. You wouldn’t believe the effort it took to force even that out of my mouth. “Alright, Paula. There are several ways to keep the hair out of your eyes. You can either get a perm or you can start wearing a soft pink ribbon and tying your hair in a ponytail.” She’d outsmarted my objection. It was hopeless to resist her. Facing this Hobson’s choice – I took the ponytail. What I didn’t realize when I made my choice, was that she meant a girl’s ponytail. So there I stood, with a ponytail high up on my head, tied together with a pink nylon ribbon. My nails were silver that day, and I wore nothing the hot pants and a too-tight tee shirt. I’d been gaining fat in my chest lately and very few of my tee shirts fit. I was kind of embarrassing to see my formerly well toned chest bounce with all that flab. Between the ponytail and everything else, I’d learned my lesson. When she demanded that I dye my hair some sort of very feminine blond, I just shut my mouth and slipped into the chair.The following week, I ruined the last pair of shorts completely by accident. I swear that I closed the bleach tightly like I always do, but when I reached for it, the cap popped off and ruined the pink shorts I wore. I wondered how Stephanie would react. I dreaded that night. As Stephanie walked into the house, she set down her brief case in the hallway and handed me her overcoat. I hung it up. “What happened to your shorts?” “I spilled bleach. . .” “How careless. I guess we’re out of shorts now aren’t we?” I nodded as she rubbed her hand over my shorts, causing my penis to grow. “Why didn’t you change into something nicer before I got home. Do you think I want to see you in bleach stained shorts?” “No ma’am, but I didn’t know what to wear.” I was going to be as submissive as I could bare to be. I would not risk making her angry. “I’ll take care of that.” Stephanie paused, thinking. “I think I’ll inspect the house first. But you’re not going to wear those shorts. Take them off.” I stripped to my panties. My penis stood at attention underneath the satin panties. The fabric did not stretch much, so my penis pulled the panties away from my body, leaving a gap at the top of the panties through which Stephanie could see my penis. “That looks painful.” Stephanie giggled as she rubbed one of her nails along the length of my shaft. This was the first time in a long time that she’d touched my penis with her hand directly. Usually, she fondled me through the panties. Oddly, I hoped I did not ejaculate because that’s very hard to clean out of satin! Needless to say, the inspection was emasculating. Then the fun began.I stood virtually naked before Stephanie. She stood in front of her closet, holding up a very small sexy babydoll nightie. By “her closet” I also mean her bedroom. She’d kicked me out of the master bedroom weeks ago. I now lived in a small guest bedroom upstairs – the smallest in the house. “You can wear my nighties, I don’t have a problem with that,” make no mistake, this was not my choice, “but there will be conditions. I will not allow you to go around with hairy legs hanging out from under my them. From now on you will shave your legs.” I didn’t even try to protest. I hated this idea, but I just couldn’t bring myself to confront Stephanie. Looking up into her eyes made me feel weak and small and broke my will before I could say my piece. It wouldn’t have done any good anyway. Stephanie grabbed my hand and led me to the bathroom. Once there, she made me run a bath and then stripped me naked. “You can use my razor tonight, but tomorrow I want you to buy your own at the store. Buy the pink disposable kind, they work best.” Stephanie started shaving me, but soon left me to finish on my own. When I finished and rinsed myself off, Stephanie returned with a towel and some powder. I reached for my slippers. “What do you think you’re doing?” “I need my slippers.” “Not with my nightie! My nighties all have matching slippers. From now on, you wear those.” She tossed a pair of satin high heeled mules on the floor. These things had three inch heels! My slippers disappeared during the night.Minutes later I found myself in the living room in a red baby doll nightgown, a pair of real silk stockings, and a pair of red satin three inch high heeled mules with a book on my head. After I’d gotten out of the tub, I’d slipped into the mules and nearly broken my ankle on the first step. When I finally got myself standing upright, I wobbled like jello in an earthquake. Then my second step ended with my face on the floor. This convinced Stephanie to take me to the living room and teach me to walk in high heels. I’ll spare you the details of her instructions because until you’ve been there (I almost said “in my shoes”) you can’t appreciate the difficulty I had. Granted I’m not a big man, but I am a man and I’d never worn high heels before. For the next hour, Stephanie made me practice with the book on my head and my hands down at my sides – pointing out horizontally to the ground. A full hour of balancing, slap slap slap click click click. A full hour of yelling and teasing. Finally, Stephanie decided it was time for bed. My time for bed. She planned to stay up and watch more television, but I needed to go to bed. For some time now, she’d been sending me to bed at 9:30 unless she made me repeat my day’s work. I actually found it difficult to stay awake past 10:00 these days. I felt so self-conscious walking to my bedroom. Every single click echoed off the hardwood floors. Every slap of the shoe against my foot mocked me. As I slipped into my bed, Stephanie turned off my light. “Tomorrow you will continue your heel practice. Then you will wear the slippers while you do your chores all day long.” She turned to leave but thought to add one more warning. “I will test you when I get home, so don’t even think of blowing this off. I expect you make serious progress.”I sat on my bed pulling the stockings down my legs. I’d done my nails and all the dusting. I wore the slippers all morning. My feet and calves hurt a lot. I’d gotten one shoe caught in the carpet and nearly broke my leg falling down. That taught me that I needed to be more delicate with my steps. The days of taking large steps while vacuuming and dusting were over. When I finished dusting, I removed the polish from my nails and headed to the bedroom to find something I could wear to the store. I certainly was not going to wear the mules or the babydoll! I didn’t know what else to do though. Ok, no laughing, but eventually I found a pair of denim shorts with a large pink star on the butt. To this I added my barely serviceable wing tips. In addition I carried the change purse Stephanie had given me. My nails were clear, but long. My hair was platinum blond. I probably should have just bitten the bullet and worn a dress, but I had to draw the line somewhere.That evening Stephanie made me hop, skip, jump, pivot, dance, stand on one leg, and anything else she could think of. I passed, barely. “I’ll give you a passing grade, but you need a lot of work. From now on, you will wear heels all the time. The higher the better.” Then, for spite, she made me dust her (formerly my) office while she watched. I lost the office when I lost my job. Now she had the key and I was only allowed in under supervision. “You have very sexy legs. Those slippers are very sexy on you.” My sore muscles reminded me that I hadn’t worked out in months now. At first I didn’t feel like it, but now I just couldn’t imagine myself walking into a locker room full of big, strong horny men. I don’t know what they’d do once they saw my shaved legs, platinum blond hair, and satin panties, but I didn’t want to find out. Stephanie seemed to be keeping trim though. She never told me anything definite, but I think she worked out before she came home each night. After I finished dusting the office where I’d once spent so many late nights, Stephanie told me to go wash out our stockings and then go to bed. It was only 7:45, but I didn’t protest.Without access to news or other people, I slowly lost track of time. I never knew how much my sense of the world depended on other people until I lost my access to them. One day I sat looking at my feminine legs as I balanced a delicate high heeled shoe on my toes. I honestly did not know if I’d been wearing heels for a couple of weeks or a couple of months! I tried to figure out the dates, but I couldn’t. My inability to time events only got worse as the days progressed. So please forgive me if I can’t be more precise about timing.Sometime after I first started wearing her slippers around the house, Stephanie came home with horrible horrible news. For whatever reason, she’d invited my best friend Richard over to our house for dinner that night. She gave me less than an hours notice! Richard and I were drinking buddies from way back. In college we both ran track together. “Stephanie! How could you, why didn’t you. . .” “Don’t you give me that tone Paula!” Stephanie raised her fist to me and I flinched. “After all I’ve done for you, don’t you dare raise your voice to me! Now hurry up and finish cooking dinner.” Stephanie headed out of the room, but stopped at the door. “And don’t forget to change.” I could feel her smirk run down my spine, breaking my will.”Oh my God!” I thought. What would I change into? I had nothing at all masculine left to wear. I couldn’t wear a nightie and high heeled slippers in front of Richard. I’d be ruined. As I cooked I thought about my clothing option. I could wear the star pants shorts. I typically wore those and my wing tips when I went shopping these days. Although I wore these items to go shopping, I felt humiliated the entire time. On me, the shorts were more like hot pants. The big clunky shoes at the end of my soft, curvy shaved legs, the long platinum blond hair (Stephanie had made me put a slight lifting curl into the hair so it puffed out at the bottom), and the long fingernails all combined to make me look like more female than male. Most of the other customers called me “ma’am.” The guys at the cash register knew me as “Stephanie” because Stephanie made me use her credit cards – she’d cancelled all my cards. I never corrected the anyone because I didn’t want to explain why I looked more like Stephanie than I did like Paul. Plus, as Stephanie I could always get one of the boys to carry the groceries to the cab for me. Oh that’s right, I forgot to mention the cab. Stephanie tore up my driver’s license to save money on insurance. Now she gave me exact cab fair for my little trips to the store. In a bit of twisted obsession, Stephanie made me keep the cabby waiting while I shopped. This made me hurry (or I wouldn’t have enough cab fare) – I really had to run! This had the added nuisance of keeping me from stopping to read any magazines. Oh God, what was I going to do?Once dinner was prepared, I hurried to my bedroom to change my clothes. I hung up my apron and kicked off the mules. I felt determined to get as masculine as possible in the few minutes left to me. Stephanie came in to watch me change as she often did – I hadn’t seen her naked since she kicked me out of her bedroom. I stripped naked and then replaced my panties with new ones. Stephanie decided to tease me. “Very sexy. Richard will like those.” “He won’t know about these.” “Well I certainly won’t tell him. I don’t want the world knowing what kind of sissy I married.” I hated when she said that. This was all her idea after all! I reached for the star-butt shorts and slipped them on. “Are you sure you want to wear those?” “I don’t have anything else.” “Well ok, but. . .” “But what?” “Well, honey. They do show off your nicely shaved legs. And they will certainly make your shoes stick out more.” I reached for my wing tips. “What’s wrong with my shoes.” “Well, since you asked, you won’t be wearing those worn out old shoes anymore. I will not have that. In fact, those are going in the garbage tomorrow morning. On the other hand, there’s nothing wrong with these,” she tossed some shoes onto the bed. Stephanie picked up my shoes and placed them in a bag she was holding. Then she went to my closet and grabbed the last of my tee-shirts and other clothes. The loss of my shoes really hit me. I felt confused. What was she doing? Granted my wingtips had numerous holes, but I didn’t have any other shoes! “If I don’t wear these, what can I wear?” I said more to myself. Stephanie pointed to the bed. I wished I didn’t see what I saw. The one pair were black high heeled pumps. These things were delicate and feminine. They had a glossy black finish and a four inch high heel. There was no way I could wear them. The other pair were pink wedge heeled sandals with lots of delicate little straps. The heels couldn’t have been more than an inch and a half, but they were very feminine. “I’ll give you twenty seconds to decide which pair for tonight and then I’ll decide for you.” I looked at the shoes. The sandals were probably easier to explain, except for the pink color. I could always tell Rick that my shoes were ruined and I had to borrow hers for the night. I guess he’d buy that with a pair of low heeled sandals. I made my choice. “Ok, I’ll wear the sandals.” “Good choice. That way I’ll be taller than you all night. Now would you like to continue wearing those shorts or would you rather wear some of my slacks?” “Definitely the slacks. Anything that hangs down over these shoes.” “Ok, put the shoes on and let’s go to my bedroom.” “Alright dear, let me just remove my nail polish.” “Uh, no. You can take the polish off your fingers, but not your toes.” “What?!” I mean heck, why not just make me wear a dress too? “Are you deaf or are you asking for punishment?” “I’m sorry Stephanie.” “That’s better. Oh, and if you remove the polish from your fingers, you’ll have to replace it tonight before you go to bed.” I could live with that.I sat on the bed in Stephanie’s bedroom, looking at the silver nail polish on the ends of each of my toes as they stuck out from the pink sandals. Although these shoes had relatively low heels, they felt very awkward. Each step I found myself expecting my heel to hit before it did. It’s hard to describe, but I found myself walking nearly tip-toe to compensate. I figured I could explain the shoes to Rick by telling him that I’d ruined mine that day and I wore these as a stop gap measure. I didn’t know how to explain the nail polish. I wasn’t too sure how to explain my fingernails either. I’d removed the polish, but they still stuck out 3/4 of an inch past the tips of my fingers and they were oval shaped. As I stripped them of color, I never even suggested cutting them because I didn’t want to give Stephanie any reason to get nasty. I didn’t have the time to make it up to her before Rick showed up. “Here, these should do nicely.” Stephanie handed me a pair of pink slacks. My eyes began to object, but Stephanie cut me off. “These will match your shoes. You need to match dear.” Stephanie then tossed me a very delicate white silk blouse. I didn’t object. Instead, I meekly stepped into the slacks. This was a new experience for me. The zipper ran up the back. Fortunately, I’d become so accustomed to my long nails that this presented no challenge to me. The second thing I noticed was that the pants were very tight around the hips. “These don’t fit.” “Oh yes they do. They’re supposed to fit very tightly around your hips and then flair out by your feet. That way they show off your panties.” They did. Man, I hadn’t worn bell bottoms since the 1970s! Fortunately, the pants hung down over the sandals. When I walked, my toes snuck out from underneath, but when I stood still no one could see what I wore. The panty lines were a problem too. As I admired my feminine rear in the mirror, Stephanie came up behind me and stuck something on my chest. My chest tickled as she rubbed her hands over my nipples. I felt them grow. That was weird. “Boy, you are getting fat. From now on, you wear a bra until you lose some weight.” I knew she was right. I had a lot of fat on my arms, my chest, my hips, my thighs. I didn’t eat much, so I couldn’t understand this. In fact, my ribs even showed a bit. I don’t know how it happened, but I looked very pudgy. I watched as Stephanie pulled my flesh into the bra. It really looked like I had small, female breasts. “How did I get so fat?” “You eat like a horse. I’m going to have to cut your intake. And if you want motivation, you’re wearing a bra until you lose some of this flab. I can’t believe how gross your body has become.” Still, she couldn’t take her hands off my erect nipples.Rick looked in good health. He’d obviously been working out a lot. From the conversation, I gathered that he’d been working out with Stephanie. I guess she looked a little more fit too. Man, I hadn’t worked out in forever. I wonder what all this repetitive light lifting was doing to my muscles? I knew what it had done to my waist line.In case you hadn’t noticed, I skipped the part where Stephanie made me greet Rick at the door. It’s too humiliating to retell. Suffice it to say that he noticed right away and that he laughed and made fun of me. Further suffice it to say that despite myself, I had a raging hard on the entire time – not for him, but for the humiliation I felt as Stephanie watched him terrorize me. Stephanie pointed out my hard on and they had more fun at my expense. At one point she threatened to pull my pants down and make me masturbate for the two of them “as the evenings entertainment.”As I swished my way around the kitchen, with the sound of my heels clicking my humiliation on the hardwood floor, Stephanie and Rick sat down at the table. Actually, I should say Stephanie and Richard. Stephanie ordered me to call Rick “Richard.” She also made me serve the two of them so that they could engage in conversation. I didn’t join them in their conversation. Stephanie didn’t seem to mind. Her and Rick spoke about many things. Unfortunately, I couldn’t keep up with what they were talking about. I didn’t know what the Fed did last week or how the market was performing or even who won the recent election. Honestly, I didn’t even know we had an election. I guess I remember Stephanie coming home with some voting material, but she didn’t let me see it. She just dismissed me with, “this no longer concerns you.” Their conversation continued during dinner. I just looked down into my plate. In fact, I don’t think I’d looked Richard in the face for more than two seconds the entire night. I could only guess what he was thinking and what he would tell my other friends. I hadn’t seen any of them since Stephanie did what she did to me and now they’d know why.Something that really confused me during dinner was when Stephanie slipped her foot out of her shoe and began rubbing it over my foot. I didn’t know what to make of this. Was she turned on by my humiliation? Was this her way of saying she wanted me above Richard? I didn’t know, but I wished for the best. Maybe she was about to snap out of whatever had gotten into her and I’d be set free. As usual, I thought wrong.Around 8:50, Stephanie was rubbing her finger around the rim of her glass, looking into Richard’s eyes. “Say, let’s go to the living room and get more comfortable.” I thought she meant me, but she looked at Richard as she spoke. He responded first. “Ok Stephie. Do you want me to help you clean up here?” “Oh heavens no, Paula will get that. Won’t you dear?” I meekly nodded my head. She wasn’t satisfied so I responded verbally. “Come on Rick, Paula’s very good with the kitchen.” With that, Richard and Stephanie rose and walked to the living room. On the way there, Stephanie grabbed his hand!I felt angry! I felt humiliated and angry! I couldn’t believe my wife would have the nerve to hit on my best friend right in front of me! I wanted to storm into the living room and tell her off. I saw myself kicking Richard out of my damn house. . . but then the image crystallized and I saw that the foot I’d placed on his rear was encased in the pink sandal. I saw my reflection in my glass-like silver toe nails. I looked like a beautiful woman. I seemed to shrink smaller and smaller. Suddenly, Richard turned around and picked me up like a c***d. He carried me back to the living room and handed me to Stephanie, who spanked me repeatedly. I cried and I begged, I screamed, but I couldn’t break free from her firm grasp. Finally she stood me up and I could see that she towered over me. She slapped me and knocked me to the ground. Again, again again. I snapped out of my nightmare just as I dried the last dish. I decided to hurry to the living room. I knew I couldn’t kick Richard out of my house, but I could certainly keep the two of them from being alone. As I stepped into the living room, the sight of my wife sitting on my friend’s lap greeted me like falling bricks. I wanted to cry or scream, but didn’t get the chance. “Oh good, you’re done. Go get your nail kit and come repair my nails. You need to paint yours as well, it’s nearly your bed time.” I hesitated. şişli escort “Tonight?” “Of course. I told you that if you removed the polish, you’d have to replace it. Why is tonight any different than any other night.” “I thought because of Richard. . .” “Well I certainly doubt he’ll want his nails painted. I think you’re the only boy who likes that. Now hurry up.” I knew better than to argue. I scurried off to get my nail kit and return within the time she usually allowed. As I left the room I heard her explain my “bedtime” to Richard. Upon my return to the living room, I noticed that Stephanie hadn’t moved an inch. She looked at me and shook her head. “I will not have you ruining my pants. Go change into something more appropriate for doing nails.” A look of sheer terror crossed my face. “Hurry up. You’re embarrassing me.”What could I do? I don’t know. Maybe I could have stood up to her, maybe not. Before all this happened, I would have said, “hell no bitch” and told her where to stick it. But now I was helpless against her. Every time I stood up to her, she made me regret it. Why should this be any different? I felt so nervous stepping back into the living room in my light blue babydoll and three inch high heeled mules. There was no explaining this to Richard. Of course, with everything else that had happened, I don’t think one more humiliation was going to change his mind. Of course, Richard whistled and made some snide comments. The whole time Stephanie just watched in amazed silence as I took this abuse and smiled as I’d been ordered. As I neared, she took the photo bag from my kit and showed them to Richard. “Look at the good work Paula does on her own fingers and toes. All of these are of Paula.” They both giggled. Stephanie took a couple of the photos and shoved them into his shirt pocket. “Why don’t you keep these as a momento.” Then they fell back to kissing. As business-like as I could, I walked over to the couch and set up my tools. Soon I was busy stripping Stephanie’s finger nails and toe nails and adding new colors. The whole while Stephanie sat in Richard’s lap kissing him. I hated them both. Strangely though, I felt aroused the entire time. As I look back, I think this was the first time I genuinely felt aroused by my humiliation. That or maybe when I let Richard in to begin the evening. Sadly, arousal has become my first reaction. I’m not too sure why, but I think maybe I finally decided that if this was going to happen to me, I was going to find something private to enjoy about it. Whatever the reason, from that moment on, her humiliations began to arouse me as much as they horrified me.When I finished Stephanie’s nails, she inspected them. Then she asked Richard to inspect them. He said they looked good to him. “Well, they are good but not great. I think tomorrow Paula should have to practice three times instead of twice. Why don’t you pick out the colors for her tomorrow Rick?!” Stephanie laughed and giggled. Richard took his time, but eventually found three colors for me to wear the next day. “Those will look lovely on you dear. Now, hurry up and do your fingers, it’s nearly 9:00 pm.” Obediently, I worked on my nails as quickly as I could, without making mistakes of course. When I’d finished, Stephanie and Richard inspected my nails. I felt sick to my stomach when Richard held my hand to carry out the inspection. I passed. “Good, now pack up your kit. It’s 9:00 pm, bed time.” “Bed time?” Richard chuckled. “Yes. Paula goes to bed at 9:00 pm sharp unless I give her permission to stay up longer.” This explanation was entirely for my benefit since she’d already explained it to him while I summoned my baby doll and nail kit. “I don’t think we need her up tonight do we?” “No. . . I think it would be better if SHE went to bed.” “You heard Rick, dear, go to bed. I’ll expect to see you in the morning bright and early.” As I clicked my way down the hallway, feeling like a man who’d been castrated, I could hear my wife and my best friend making out on my couch. I don’t know how far they carried things that night because my room was too far away to hear anything. Besides, I wouldn’t have heard anything through my tears.Oddly, it didn’t seem like that big a deal to wear high heeled pumps to the grocery store. I’d been wearing the heels so long at home now that I felt odd in anything else. Between my exposure to Richard, the pizza boy, the post man and a girl from work who came by occasionally with some documents, and with the guys at the store already calling me Stephanie, it just seemed logical to wear the pumps. Call me crazy, but the pumps became so normal for me so quickly that I didn’t think twice about wearing them anywhere!By the way, after the first night, Richard came over more and more often. Soon he came over at least three times a week. Each time I’d prepare dinner for him and Stephanie and then I’d paint her nails as they made out on the couch. Ho hum I guess. Actually, I guess there’s no point in lying. This made me furious. But since I couldn’t express my fury, it made me feel weak and impotent.In some ways, Richard was worse than Stephanie because I viewed him as a rival for my wife. Sadly, he had the inside track. He knew this too and he did little things to guarantee his position. One night, as Richard and Stephanie sat on the couch making out, I accidentally dropped some pink nail polish on his sock – it’s an honest mistake when you have one inch oval nails. He didn’t see it that way though. He hit the roof! He began yelling and screaming – calling me sissy and pathetic and a whole host of other names. I cried like a little girl! This only made him angrier. Before I knew what was happening, he literally picked me up and placed me over his knee. SMACK!! SMACK!!! His hand came down on my exposed rear like a hammer! I screamed and squealed! Tears poured down my face. I tried to pull away, but the clothes I wore made it impossible for me to get any balance to fight his power. Or, I guess he was just stronger than me. Finally, Richard let me go. I ran from the room, losing one of my slippers in the process. No sooner did I hit the bed in my room than I heard Stephanie ordering me back downstairs! I don’t know why, but I figured that she was calling me to tell me this whole game was over and I’d be released back to being a man. I figured she’d thrown Richard out and she was going to beg me to forgive her. Boy was I wrong. As I hobbled downstairs holding the other slipper (I swear I walked funny when I wasn’t wearing my heels! I’d become so accustomed to them that I literally hobbled without them because I couldn’t bring my foot down flat anymore!), Stephanie returned to the living room. There she ordered me to replace both slippers. Then she ordered me to kneel before Richard and to beg his forgiveness for running away from him!!!!!! I couldn’t believe my ears! Fortunately, Richard was very gracious about my apology. I guess it helped that Stephanie promised to make it up to him. I found out what that meant the next morning when I brought her breakfast in bed (I did that every Saturday and Sunday). Standing in the bathroom door was Richard, naked as the day he was born. I don’t know that it really interests anyone, but his dick was huge! It positively dwarfed my dick – which seemed to be getting smaller underneath all this nylon. At the time I thought I was crazy, but I truly believed my dick was shrinking. Either way though, his dick was huge! I’m not gay or anything, but it really was an impressive dick. When he walked, it literally swayed back and forth! Wow. Stephanie saw me staring and ordered me to set down the breakfast and go about my duties.On another night, Richard got angry at me for not replacing all the buttons on his shirts that day. I really tried, but Stephanie had given me too many other chores. I tried to explain, but he didn’t want to hear it. Soon I stood before him crying. I knew a spanking was coming, but it didn’t. Instead, Richard shook his head and told Stephanie, “you know what the problem is don’t you? The problem is that you let her get too close. You shouldn’t let her call you by your first name.” Stephanie seemed intrigued. I saw a light go on in her eyes. “What do you mean?” “I mean that she should have to call you Ma’am or Mistress or at least Ms. Baxter.” “That’s a wonderful idea. I knew something seemed wrong.” From that moment on, Stephanie was Stephie to Richard but Mistress to me. Richard was Rick to Mistress but Master Howard to me.The next day, Master Howard brought me a box containing two complete French Maid’s uniforms! One was pink and the other was black. I won’t describe these things because you’ve all seen my picture by now. I will say though that it was very disconcerting to see breasts! I’m not sure how they did it, but I had major cleavage jutting out from the low cut blouse on the uniform. To increase my suffering, by the way, Master Howard included four inch heels with these uniforms. He always had to make bad worse for me. I’d love to see him in heels!As I bent over to pull the bedsheets out of the washer one day, I felt a small hand toss up the petticoats under my maid’s skirt and firmly rub my stockinged rear. Both Master Howard and Mistress liked to see me in the maid’s uniform during the day. (Mistress also liked to take pictures of me performing my chores. She said she placed them on her desk at work. Apparently, I was a big favorite with the guys and the girls!) At least I could wear something tasteful to go shopping! Back to the hand on my rear, I froze, afraid to resist. Slowly, the hand rubbed up and down my rear. Then it slid between my legs. That’s when I jumped. I shot around expecting to see Master Howard. Instead, I saw some horny teenager! I didn’t know what to make of this. I was about to smack the k** when I heard Mistress’ voice in the background saying, “say hello to Master Todd, Paula.” I obeyed, but my face turned red with the humiliation. It took Mistress a week before she explained to me that the horny young boy I was to obey in all things was her sister’s son. Imagine that, my wife ordered me to obey a sixteen year old k** in all things! I even had to call him Master and sir! Right from the start, things did not go well with Master Todd. This k** was horny. He was all hands. And he really liked me. I guess no one told him who I was before I became Paula!Four days after Master Todd first arrived, he announced to me that I was just “a typical dumb girl who knew nothing.” This all stemmed from the various conversations he’d tried to start with me during those four days. I must admit that I seemed useless in those conversations. First he hit me with the sports questions. I hadn’t heard one word about sports since this whole thing began, or at least since I stopped reading my old sports magazines. Well, I put my foot in my mouth so many times that he stopped talking to me about it. I didn’t know that the Super Bowl had been played the weekend before he arrived or even who played. I didn’t know about two teams who’d moved or about two expansion clubs. Then he hit me with the news quiz. From what I could gather from his derisive comments, our troops were engaged in some large peace keeping mission overseas and a whole bunch of new countries had come into existence from other ones – but I’m not too sure where. For a while, he even had me believing that they had some sort of civil war in Yugoslavia until he told me he was just k**ding. I felt really stupid for believing that one. Then he quizzed me about movies and TV and the such. I didn’t know what he was talking about. He really seemed to like something called the “Xphiles,” but he couldn’t explain it to me. I don’t even want to know what that is. Finally, he asked me what I did know. I thought and I thought, but all that came to mind right away was fashion and house work. What else could I tell him? How Master Howard humiliated me? He just laughed as I mentioned either.The night after failing my quiz, I felt the urge to go get my sports magazines down from the closet. I needed to do something to rescue my masculinity. After I was sure everyone had fallen asleep, I snuck out to the closet for my next big surprise. Try as I might, I simply couldn’t get the box to budge. Either someone had added a whole bunch of weight to this box or it was stuck to the closet shelf. No one was going to move this box! I wasn’t going to be beaten that easily though. I returned to my room to grab the chair from my vanity. As quietly as I could I dragged the chair out to the closet (it was too heavy to lift). I pushed the chair against the closet, kicked off my slippers, and stepped up onto the chair. Just then I felt a hand on my rear! “What are you doing Paula?” It was the k**! He didn’t remove his hand from my rear. “I’m looking for something Master Todd,” I whispered. “Must be some sort of big secret.” He got louder. I began to panic. “Please, don’t wake Mistress. She’ll be very angry Master Todd.” “Angry with you maybe, but not me. Let’s see what’s in the box you’ve got your delicate little hands on.” And with that, the k** placed his other hand on my other butt cheek and lifted me off the chair. Then he stepped forward and easily pulled the box down from its shelf. I stood by looking passive, like a little girl who is caught doing something she shouldn’t be. I knew I couldn’t run away. I was amazed he lifted the box so easily. However, I didn’t have much time to wonder how a sixteen year old k** could be so much stronger than me, a full grown man. As soon as he had the box to the floor he popped it open. “An old sports magazine? Imagine that?!” He was getting louder again. “Please Master Todd, please don’t be so loud.” I begged, placing my hands on his chest. “I don’t know, I think that Aunt Steph should know about this.” “Please don’t tell her. I’ll do anything Master Todd.” The tears began to roll from my eyes. Every day I sank deeper and deeper into Paula. I couldn’t afford to give Mistress any reason to make things worse. “Good, that’s the tone I like.” Master Todd placed his hands on my rear end again, this time under the skirted bottom of my babydoll. I swallowed hard, determined not to resist whatever he did. “First of all, I don’t want you to become any smarter than you are. I’m going to toss out all these old magazines tomorrow morning. If I ever catch you reading anything like them or a newspaper, I’ll tell Aunt Steph what I found here tonight. I like you hopelessly ignorant. Second, tomorrow I’m going to ask Aunt Steph if we can go on a date. If she agrees, then you agree. If she doesn’t, then I’ll think of something else. Understand?” “Yes Master Todd.” What else could I say. Maybe Mistress would cut this k** off before he got too big for himself. I’m her husband dammit, she wouldn’t let this happen to me! “Good.” Master Todd pulled me tight against him, squeezing my rear in his hands. “Give me a good night kiss.” I froze. I knew I couldn’t resist, but I was not prepared for this. Suddenly, without warning, he jammed his lips against mine and began sucking on my face. I clenched my teeth shut and closed my eyes. The humiliation was intense! A God damn sixteen year old boy?!!! And to make it all even worse, my cock shot up like a flare. I had to drop my hands to a very submissive pose to cover my crotch. This encouraged him to continue the embrace. Finally, it ended. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He bent over and picked up my slippers from the floor. He kissed both shoes on the vamp. Then he handed them to me and said, “you’re very beautiful Paula.”I’m going to skip the bit where Master Todd asked Mistress if he could take me out on a date. She laughed and laughed and then agreed. The following Friday night I found myself wearing a tight mini, some very high heeled sandals, a loose top, a low cut bra, and a lot of makeup. I’d been wearing make up for months now, so I did my own make up for the date. I sat in the passenger seat of the car looking longingly at the pedals. I hadn’t been allowed to drive since Mistress tore up my license. That meant I was entirely homebound except when Mistress gave me cab fair to go to the store. Now that Master Todd was here, he had begun to drive me around wherever I needed to go. Usually I got to wear something a little conservative, as compared to my maid uniform, when I left the house. Not today. As Master Todd backed out of the drive way, he slid his hand onto my leg and began to massage my inner thigh. I didn’t know if I was allowed to resist. I guessed I wasn’t. “Where are we going Master Todd?” “Don’t call me that tonight. Call me ‘honey.'” “Yes honey.” “Good. We’re going to see the movie ‘Grease.'” “Did they re-make that movie? I remember seeing it when I was young.” Master Todd laughed. “I love the way you don’t keep up with things. They’ve re-released it. Did you honestly not know that?” “No sir, I didn’t.” “Well I’ve never seen it, but I hear it’s an excellent date movie.” And so my date began. For the next several hours we walked all over this downtown section where they’d put a bunch of restaurants and a theater (I didn’t know they’d built this) and then we saw the movie. The entire time, Master Todd made me hold his hand while his other arm rested over my shoulder. Emotionally, this was a very difficult moment in my life. I’d been locked up at home for so long that I longed to be out among people again. I don’t know for how long I’d been kept this way because I didn’t have anything to mark the time against, but I figured that I hadn’t been out of the house (except to shop) for months. On the other hand, it scared me that someone might make me as a man. Sure, I wore a mini and heels, but that doesn’t mean I looked like a woman – at least I didn’t think so. So even though no one else seemed to notice I couldn’t help but fear my eventual discovery. Actually, I guess I should mention that I did get a couple of wolf whistles. Strangely, they gave me comfort. The most confusing aspect of this night was my being on a date with a teenage boy! No matter what I did, this k** was going to have his fun. There was no way out of it for me. So I figured that I might as well try to make it as bearable as possible. The only way to do that was, for tonight only, to tell myself that I am a woman named Paula and act accordingly. That seemed to help me enjoy myself. I guess I even had a good time. Ok, I had the best time I’d had in a long time and if the price was to let this boy touch me, I was willing to pay it. When Master Todd leaned over and started kissing my neck, I didn’t even mind. I did stop him though when he tried to make the next move. I loved watching the movie. I hadn’t seen anything but the fashion channel from however long now. Man, I really wish I knew how long it had been! Any ways, this was the first movie/entertainment I’d had for as long as I could remember. I soaked up every minute of it! When the movie ended, we poured out of the theater in a large group. Since I hadn’t been in such a crowd for a long time, this was genuinely a bit frightening. I guess I panicked a bit because Todd had to stop, grab my hand, and pull me through the crowd. Thank God he was there. You know, re-reading this part of the story, I’m kind of ashamed to leave this in here. Let me just say that I am a man and I can take care of myself. It’s just that when you’re wearing four inch heels and a tight mini from which your dick could pop out of at any time, you really do need someone to protect you. So if you’re laughing at me, don’t. This incident said more about the vulnerability of female clothing than it does anything about my masculinity.The drive home brought me my biggest shock to date. Master Todd decided to take a short cut over some new bypass. I had no idea where we were until we pulled up at lover’s lane! “Uh, Master Todd sir, this is lover’s lane. Shouldn’t we be getting home?” “We will. I just want to spend some time with you.” And with that he leaned over and wrapped his arms around me. I tried to push him away but he was just too strong. His hands were everywhere! So were his lips. Without any warning at all, I suddenly felt something I’d never felt before. His hand reached under my unbuttoned blouse and yanked on the low cut bra. My right breast fell out! Let me repeat that. My right breast fell out! We were both too shocked to move. Master Todd was afraid he’d gone too far. I was stunned that I had a right breast! I knew I was getting a bit fat there, but I certainly didn’t have what could be called a breast. At least until he released it from my bra! (No matter what I’d tried, I kept gaining fat on my chest lately. I guess this was the culmination of that. Mistress kept me on the diet but it didn’t seem to be working, she kept telling me I wasn’t losing any weight.) A moment later, I felt the most intense sensation shoot through my body as his finger traced my rather large nipple. I quickly swatted his hand away and tucked my breast back into the bra. I felt my penis unload itself into my panties. I prayed that didn’t leave a stain. “Please sir, I can’t.” Master Paul sat back and watched me re-button my blouse. “Ok. But you have to give me a nice kiss.” I hesitated for a moment and then did it. One little peck, clean on the lips. “Hmmm. That was nice, but not quite satisfying. You know what I really want before I take you home?” I shrugged my shoulders, terrified at what he would say. I was even more terrified at the realization that my cock was sticking straight up under the mini. If he turned on a light or grabbed for my lap, we were both in for a major surprise. “I want a blow job.” “No!” I said more to myself than to him. I knew if he insisted, I’d be giving my first blow job in a matter of seconds. He, however, backed off. “Ok, then give me a hand job. But you’ll owe me.” The rest of that night, you just don’t need to know about.Master Todd stayed with us for another month before he left for a semester at school. During that time I was subject to having my rear rubbed and my breasts pinched. Master Todd would also walk around the house dropping objects, just to watch me bend over to pick them up. Fortunately, I never had to provide him with more than I did that night in the car. Which is not to say he didn’t try. Fortunately, he was unwilling to order me.I’m going to skip ahead a bit in time here to keep the thread of the story. Many things happened before Master Todd returned, but they just aren’t as interesting as his return. If you really want a run down, let’s just say that I never wore pants again, Master Howard started spending more and more nights with Mistress, Mistress dyed my hair a lovely auburn color that really fit my complexion, and Master Howard introduced a weakly photo shoot. Apparently, he sold the pictures at work. Oh dear, there is one more thing I forgot to mention. My breasts continued to grow! They were now really large and very sensitive. Mistress liked to tweak my enlarged nipples just to see my face contort. I knew this wasn’t right and I begged her to let me see a doctor. She refused.Master Todd returned as the weather got warmer again. I guess I’d been Paula now for maybe a year, maybe more. It’s hard to say for sure. Well one day I was bent over the washer and suddenly I felt a hand on my rear! Deja vu! I shot around like lightening. Suddenly I felt two strong arms wrap around me and lift me up in the air. These arms belonged to Master Todd. Standing behind him was a second young man, who I was to call Master Michael. “It’s so good to see you again! Give me a kiss, for old time sake!” “It’s good to see you too again Master Todd.” I held out with the kiss. He noticed my hesitation. “Come on, don’t make me box your nose.” I got the hint. I leaned closer and planted my lips on his. He’d grown a bit and I had to stand on tip-toes, even though I wore four inch heels! When he released me, I curtseyed to Master Michael as I was now required. He could barely force himself to pull his eyes away from my legs. I felt an erection beginning at the humiliation of being eyed by this boy. I acted quickly by placing my hands over my penis. “My friend Michael is going to stay with us while I’m back. Won’t that be fun?” Fun is not what I would call it. Well, ok, part of it was fun, but weird.For the next several months, Master Todd and Master Michael fought for my affections. Both inundated me with date requests. Mistress of course made me accept one date each week, alternating between the two boys. During the week, the boys brought me little gifts like flowers, chocolates and nighties. They watched me as I worked in my uniforms, often pinching my rear or tweaking my nipples. Then one of them hit upon the idea of leaving me little romantic notes in his pants pockets which he’d given me to be washed. Mistress liked to make me read these notes at the dinner table before her, the two boys, and Master Howard. Of course, the boys treated me much better than Mistress or Master Howard. They would open doors for me, carry large packages, pull out my chair when I sat down and so on. I felt positively feminine. If I’d been at all gay this would have been absolutely wonderful. Since I wasn’t, this was merely entertaining; and, to tell the truth, a little fun. I don’t get much interaction with people anymore and this was a chance to deal with someone who didn’t view me entirely as a slave. Frankly, I liked the attention. The only thing I missed was sexual contact with a real woman. I wanted to touch Mistress so badly. And seeing Master Howard walk around naked, sometimes with Mistress running her fingers up and down his massive erection, I wished that could be me – with the erection, not feeling it.One day the boys became very nasty with each other. Apparently, their oft-stated desire to go further with me had come to a head. As I stretched to dust the top of a book case in Mistress’ office, the boys came storming in. You know, a quick aside here. I just realized that for weeks, Mistress had been leaving the paper from the prior day in her office. Sometimes she forgot to lock the door. Other times she let me in to clean the office. I saw the paper sitting there the whole time and I never once thought of picking it up? What was wrong with me? Back to the confrontation. Master Todd was the first to speak. “Look here Paula. We’ve been talking and we think it’s time you picked one of us and went all the way.” I tried to deflect his advances. “But how could I sir? I can’t decided between you and Master Michael.” “Well, you better.” Master Michael was not as articulate as Master Todd. He also didn’t have the ammo Master Todd did. “You know, I was reading through some old sports magazines the other day and they said that when two men compete for a girl, the girl must chose between the two and go all the way with the winner.” I felt a tear forming in my eyes and an erection forming in my panties. I had to think fast to avoid total disaster. For obvious reasons, I couldn’t let either of them feel between my legs. I demurely dropped my hands to cover my erection. Then I spoke, “there is another way sir. If you’ll let me explain.” “I’m all ears.” I knew what I had to do. “I’d be very happy to satisfy both of you with my lips if only I didn’t have to go any further.” The boys huddled. They were obviously intrigued by my offer. I felt repulsed. I didn’t know if I could do this. “We agree. But we want it now and we want it in the living room at the same time. We don’t want you to short change either of us. Also, we want to suck on your lovely titties. Agree?” Much to my shame, I agreed.As I wash out my panties, I guess there isn’t much more to say. As the boys sucked on my breasts, I came in buckets in my panties. I didn’t think my shrunken penis still had it in me. I can still taste the salty taste of the boys’ semen in my mouth. They promised not to tell Mistress. Of course they said I’d owe them for that. I’m glad they’ve kept their words. I think they did it out of sympathy for the way Mistress treats me. Lately, she often overpowers me and spanks me right in front of everyone for even the most minor infractions of her rules. Yes, you heard me right. Somehow my wife is now significantly stronger than I am. I learned this one day when she wrestled me to the ground and I couldn’t free myself. The boys seemed genuinely concerned for me. I guess that’s sweet. But I wonder what they would say if they knew I was really Uncle Paul?I don’t know if this is a good ending or not, but that’s all that happened up to today. Maybe in another year I’ll have more stories. I’m working on a plan right now that will get me back to pants within a two year period. Maybe I’ll write again after I’ve succeeded with that plan. Until then, good bye.Ok, I guess it wasn’t fair to stop my story right in the middle. You can pretty well guess how it ended though, right? I mean, looking at my pants and shoes and things it should be obvious. But if you really must know, I’ll tell you how it ended. Let me start again a few weeks before I ended it.The last year or so had been the most humiliating time in my life. I lost my job and my money. I lost my status as husband. I became my wife’s slave. She denied me access to the world until I became a mindless ignorant idiot. She denied me men’s clothing for so long that I can’t even remember what it felt like against my body. My wife destroyed my credit cards and my driver’s license. She made me hitch rides with pervert taxi drivers or her 16 year old nephew. My wife started carrying-on with my best friend. She made me his servant as well. She made me go on dates with teenage boys, her nephew included. This led to things I still can’t bring myself to talk about. Surprisingly, among all of these humiliations, the worst occurred the day I discovered that my muscles had shrunk so much that my wife became stronger than me! Let me explain.Ever since our marriage, my husbandly duties included taking care of the lawn. That didn’t change when Mistress made me her servant. Every Monday she made me mow the lawn and trim the bushes and do whatever other work needed to be done. Although she couldn’t watch me, being at work and all, she did find many ways to verify that I complied with her orders. I never knew what would tip her off either. It could be an errant grass stain on some pants I was forbidden to wear or an eyewitness report of a nosy neighbor. It could be a dusty bookcase or a hidden camera. I never knew what was coming.One thing that did come every day though, was Mistress’ inspection of my work when she got home from work. As I stood at submissive attention, Mistress walked from room to room in her business clothes, examining all of my work. On Mondays, this inspection inevitably followed a course that led it and me outside. It humiliated me intensely to stand at attention in a babydoll nightie and high heeled slippers (and later the maid’s costume) as my wife surveyed the yard. I could tell the neighbors watched this spectacle with great delight each week.At first, I used to wear my loafers and shorts when I worked in the yard. Then they all wore out. Soon I worked in my wife’s orange hot pants and a pair of my wife’s low-heeled, wedge-heeled sandals. At that point I found myself wearing heels and babydolls inside the house, so I didn’t see much of a problem wearing the hot pants and sandals out in the yard. Besides, as I said, my wife didn’t let me change out of the babydolls and slippers for the Monday night yard inspections. I wasn’t too thrilled that the neighbors would see me in either outfit, but what choice did I have?I felt so terrified during the first several inspections that my whole body shook with fear and my eyes darted back and forth nervously. I could see the neighbors watching tv – Monday Night Football probably. I would have felt very jealous of them if I didn’t feel so self-conscious. If they bothered to look out their window during any commercial break, I would have been exposed!Mistress picked up on my fears and, I think, slowed the pace of her inspections to a crawl. I figured she got a kick out of prolonging my agony. Eventually I learned to calm myself and focus on maintaining my composure, which caused Mistress to lose interest in the inspections. That caused her to speed up the inspections to get back inside – she always hurried to get out of her work clothes and into something more comfortable than her business suits and heels (actually, she usually kicked off her heels before inspecting the lawn. “You can’t wear heels on grass dear.” Then, back inside, she made me clean her feet and rinse her stockings. She has amazingly soft feet!).Living in the house on our right was an older man, probably around 50, who toiled endlessly in his garden. He used to wave to me back when I dressed like Paul. The first time I wore the hot pants and the sandals, I thought, “oh God, he’s going to laugh at me the whole time.” Surprisingly though, he didn’t recognize me! Instead, he started calling me “Stephanie” – making the same mistake as the grocery store clerks. I guess he had poor vision. On the one hand, being made for “Stephanie” was pretty humiliating. On the other hand, I felt quite relieved he didn’t recognize me.On the other side lived a pudgy little teenage k** who hated yard work and rarely made an appearance. He’s the kind of k** you dislike on looks alone. He used to give me funny looks which I tried to ignore.As I already mentioned, I eventually ran out of shorts and tee shirts. At that point, Mistress made me wear babydolls and high heeled slippers around the house. This then gave way to the maid’s uniforms while I worked, the babydolls and slippers in the evenings, and anything I could find in her closet when I went to the store. Through all of this, I continued to wear the wedge-heeled sandals and hot pants to do my duties out in the yard. When I wore out the shorts, I switched to a pair of kaki kulats I’d found. When I wore out the sandals I switched to a pair of higher heeled wedge- heeled sandals. I just couldn’t see myself wearing the maid’s uniforms before the old man and the k**. Plus I didn’t want to mess with the horrid spectacle of spike heels on grass. I figured Mistress would understand my dilemma. She didn’t.One Monday night I stood in Mistress’ bedroom looking at the grass stains on the wedge heeled sandals I’d worn to mow the lawn. Mistress waved the sandals in my face. “Can you explain this to me?” Not knowing what Mistress meant I decided to remain silent. “This is a grass stain on my new shoe! And I found grass blades on my kulats! Did you wear these and my kulats to do your yard work?”Her tone demanded an answer to this question. “Yes, Mistress.”Her anger rose. “I can’t believe this. What on earth made you think you could perform your duties out of your uniform? Do you think we buy you those uniforms because we like to see you in them? No, they are a part of you and we understand that. You needed them and now you have them, so you will wear them. Our finances are too tight for you to go wasting my money on your whims!””What bull!” I thought. “When did I ever ask for any of this?” I said nothing though. Frankly, I didn’t know what to say? I felt my knees begin to shake. My mind reviewed my options; it was a short list: drop to my knees and beg forgiveness, cry and pray for sympathy, drop to the ground and kiss her feet and swear never to disobey her again. What could I say at a time like that?”How dare you!” she screamed. I clenched my toes inside my slippers and tugged nervously at my skirt. The angrier Mistress got, the more c***dlike and helpless I became.My will, already broken, now shattered. “Please Mistress, I’m sorry.” Tears began rolling down my cheeks. “I thought, since I may wear normal clothes to go shopping and. . .””Don’t you even try to explain this to me!” She tossed the sandals onto the floor and sat down on the bed, resting her head in her hands in disappointment. I remained standing. “I let you wear normal clothing to the store because it would embarrass me too much if everyone in town knew what for a sissy you are.” Suddenly I felt genuinely ashamed of myself for all the bad thoughts I had earlier. Her tone became angrier again, “while you’re here, whether in the yard or inside, you will wear your sissy uniform. You wanted it this way and now you’ve got it this way. Do you understand!” I was too scared to object to her assertion that I’d asked for this. I was also too ashamed of my behavior to object to her punishment. She was very lenient after all. “Need I repeat myself?!”I snapped back to reality quickly. I shook my head as I wiped the tears from my eyes. “No ma’am, I am sorry [sniff]. I should not have removed my uniform without your permission [sniff].” I couldn’t bring myself to look Mistress in the eyes as I pronounced sentence on myself, “any additional punishment you deem proper is fair, Mistress.”Mistress looked up at me, her frustration obvious. My knees knocked together, which was the only thing keeping me on my feet. Thoughts of all the humiliations she heaped on me lately coursed through my mind. I knew the power she held and I cringed in fear that she would unleash that power against me. Why did I offer to accept more punishment?Mistress remained silent. Her glare became too much for me, I dropped to my knees and grabbed her feet. “Please forgive me Mistress. I’ll never disobey you again.” If I wasn’t so afraid of what she would do next, I think I would have started to wonder how I could have sunk so low. Maybe I could have saved some dignity. Looking back, I probably could have gotten her to agree to some sort of compromise, but I broke like a straw between her fingers.”I can see there is only one way we can sort this out. Come with me.” Mistress grabbed my apron and pulled me to my feet. Then she led me to her closet. “We’re going to go through my closet and remove all the items you may no longer wear. That is not to say that you can just go wily nilly wearing my clothes, but I can see the temptation is just too great for me to leave these hanging around in the open. If I let you chose anything you want any time you want, you’ll keep picking out the same clothes and then they’ll wear out too quickly.”For the next half hour, I stood by motionless in my maid’s costume and my four-inch high heeled sandals that Master Richard thought would look so cute on me, as Mistress went through her closet removing all of her pants, shorts, tee shirts, and low heeled shoes. When she finished, the only things left were dresses, skirts, and stilettos. It’s funny because I don’t even remember her owning stilettos when we first married. In fact, I don’t remember her wearing high heels of any sort! Only since my transformation began, had she started wearing higher and higher heels. Now she even occasionally lounged around in very high stilettos. Despite her new found thrill for feminine footwear, she still often wore low heeled flats or medium heeled dress pumps to work or around the house. Likewise, she often wore dress slacks or jeans instead of skirts. All of these items went into the pile. I wondered if this meant she was going to start dressing more like she made me dress? The way she dressed for her dates with Master Howard!”Now pack these clothes nicely into this suitcase. Tomorrow I’ll buy a lock and then you won’t be tempted anymore.” Mistress pulled a suitcase from the upper closet shelf. One by one, I packed all the clothes I’d been wearing to the grocery store into the suitcase. When I finished packing, Mistress ordered me to place the suitcase on the upper shelf.The surprise of my life awaited my effort to lift the suitcase. I pulled and nothing happened! I must have looked the total idiot with my knees together, and both hands on the suitcase handle, pulling with all my might to no avail. Nothing happened! I decided to remove my heels to gain some traction. I bent down and undid the little buckles. Mistress watched me fascinated. I hadn’t been wearing heels this high for very long so my feet were greatly relieved to be out of them, but being flat footed was no longer exactly comfortable either.With my shoes off, I stepped over to the suitcase. My stocking toes dug into the carpet. I placed both hands on the handle for the second time and yanked with all my might. The suitcase left the ground for a second and then fell over – crashing out of my grip. “I’m sorry Mistress, we put too much into this suitcase. It’s too heavy. I’ll unpack some of it.”Mistress shot off the bed, where she’d been sitting, watching the “Paula Show.” “Wait honey.” Mistress pushed passed me, slightly taller than me now that she wore heels and I’d removed mine. I watched in amazement as she placed ONE hand on the handle and lifted the suitcase off the ground. Granted, she was straining a bit, but she lifted it with one hand! And she wore relatively high heels!I felt paralyzed. I didn’t know what to do or say. My mind couldn’t comprehend what just happened? This had to be some sort of trick. How could my wife lift a suitcase so easily that I couldn’t budge? Sure Master Todd could move the box which I couldn’t, but that’s different. He’s a scrappy teenage boy. This felt so differently. I can’t even begin to describe how emasculated I felt. And worst of all, my penis, the little traitor that constantly added to my humiliations, sprang up beneath my skirt. Instinctively I covered my penis with one hand. The other hand covered my mouth, which let out a soft gasp.There I stood, a picture of sexist femininity with one hand covering my private parts in modesty and the other hand trying to prevent the gasp from escaping my pouting lips. What had I become?Mistress set the suitcase down and shot me a wicked grin. She knew the advantage she now held over me! Suddenly she lunged at me. I turned to run away, tossing my arms up in the air – I ran as if I still wore my heels, even though I didn’t. Mistress caught me from behind and tossed me onto the bed. I squealed like a teenage girl. She quickly turned me over, pinning my flailing arms against the bed.As I squirmed beneath her powerful body, Mistress reached one hand under my skirt. I tried to free my arms, but she held both of them tightly above my head with only her other arm! Her eyes pierced mine like daggers. Her warm hand wrap itself around my penis and testicles. My penis stiffened involuntarily. She began stroking and pulling on me. This was the first time she’d touched my privates with any intent of jerking me off since she began dating Master Howard! I wanted to have sex with her, I wanted to let her satisfy me, but not under these circumstances. I squirmed, trying to resist. “Please stop. Please.” She ignored my pleas. I began to cry.After what seemed like an eternity, I felt my penis release its load into my skirt. Mistress withdrew her hand and cleaned it on my blouse. “Ha! You weak sissy! That was incredible! I never thought this would happen! Damn, girl! Things are really going to change now.”She was right. From that moment on, I was the weakest person in the house and they treated me as such. Suddenly I not only needed to do all the housework and obey all commands, I now became subject to periodic strength tests. Mistress and Master Howard took great pride in pinning me down and making me try to lift objects that were too heavy for me. That reinforced my subservience to the nth degree.The following morning, after Mistress left for work, I went to her closet to measure exactly how weak I’d become. I tried to pull the suitcase from the shelf where Mistress placed it, but couldn’t. Again, reminiscent of my misadventure with the box in the upstairs closet, I pulled her vanity şişli escort bayan chair to the closet and stepped up onto it – kicking off my heels first so as not to leave any marks on Mistress’ chair. I didn’t need her knowing what I’d done! In fact, I hoped no one found me this time! For the next half hour, I stood on my tiptoes, unloading the suitcase onto the closet shelf until it became light enough that I could pull it safely from the shelf.Despite my unpacking, the suitcase remained extremely heavy. Rather than dragging the suitcase to the bathroom, I brought the scale to the bedroom. The scale stood on the carpet so it wouldn’t be accurate, but since I only wanted a rough estimate, I didn’t need solid ground. As I lifted the suitcase onto the scale it read 50 pounds. Slowly I refilled the suitcase until I could no longer lift it. I stopped at 75 pounds! My God! I could lift 50 pounds – not easily, but I could not lift 75 pounds! How did this happen?Leaving the suitcase, I walked over to the mirror, afraid of what I would find. I looked at my body in the mirror. It was hard to see my shape beneath the maid’s costume. It may be difficult to believe, but I really hadn’t looked at myself in the mirror in months! I just didn’t want to see what was happening to me.As I stood transfixed at my image, I stripped to my bra and panties. I studied my reflection. My waist seemed very small – much smaller than it was before. My stomach seemed very thin, even though Mistress swore I hadn’t lost a pound of my 170 pound frame. My breasts were huge! They were now even larger than they’d been at any time before, even larger than when IT popped out during my date with Master Todd. As I fingered my bra my mind looked for an explanation of the size of these things. Eventually I settled on the idea that wearing the bras and corsets and other oddities which constantly squeezed the fat into that area caused this unnatural growth. I figured that if I stopped wearing these things, the fat would settle back down into the rest of my body.As my nipples sprung up underneath my bra, I returned to my voyeurism. My hips were definitely wider than before. My legs got a bit chubby and less muscular. My arms seemed very small. I knew they were weak.Then, for a brief moment, it struck me: “I look like a woman!” No fear, no shame, just acceptance and a bit of wonder. Just as quickly my mind readjusted, “of course, everything is distorted by the long mauve finger nails and the below-shoulder auburn hair. How could any man look like a man with those?” My fingers returned to my nipples. I felt my penis begin to rise in sympathy with my nipples. I forced my hand away from my breasts. “Well, without the hair and nails, I would probably look a lot more masculine – once the fat in my chest spreads out again. I can certainly use some working out though.”That was actually the part I didn’t understand. I worked all day long. I vacuumed, dusted, mowed, polished, etc. I moved all day long and yet my muscles shrank. How could that happen? Looking back, I guess what I didn’t see then was that I didn’t do any heavy lifting. Everything I did stretched my muscles without ever building them back up. Essentially, I stretched my muscles into oblivion. The more I worked, the more I broke down my muscles and the weaker I became. I didn’t know this at the time though and I vowed to work even harder. Mistress had it all figured out.As I repacked and replaced the suitcase, I vowed to fight back. I vowed to work harder so that I would become stronger again. I vowed to find some way to regain my freedom and my manhood. Then I vowed to get even with Mistress and Master Todd. The only problem was how?The next day, Mistress locked the suitcase and, thereby, denied me access to less feminine clothing. Thus, two days after discovering my new weakness, I found myself faced with my first trip to the grocery store in an actual dress and excruciatingly high heels! I didn’t know why this bothered me because I obviously had been wearing women’s clothing for each trip so far, but it did. I picked a simple print dress and some brown pumps.As my heels clicked their way from aisle to aisle, a collection of stockboys followed my progress with great interest. They knew me as Stephanie already, so I didn’t have much to worry about, but I definitely found the new attention uncomfortable! That would pass though – I hoped. At the checkout counter, one of the boys actually had the nerve to ask me if I was going somewhere special! I guess my slightly dressed up appearance struck them as unusual. How insulting! I didn’t want a confrontation though, so I responded kindly, “no, I just thought I should start dressing nicer for the Mister. Thank you for noticing.” Geek.”My pleasure!” He couldn’t get his eyes off my breasts the whole time he spoke to me. But frankly, I no longer minded. Besides, that the closest he’d ever come to a set like mine, the geek. Wow, did I just say that?I did mind the following Monday though when I wore my uniform out on the lawn for the first time to do yardwork. I felt like an idiot kicking up divots with my heels and constantly having to watch my stance so my penis didn’t pop out from under my skirt. Pushing a lawnmower in high heels is not an easy task!Since Mistress kept me on the exact same schedule day after day, the neighbors quickly learned when I would be outside doing my duties. That guaranteed my mowing the lawn would become quite the peep show. The guys liked the show.I first noticed that the old guy next door stopped working whenever I came out. Instead, he’d suddenly find the need to take a break. This meant sitting on his patio, sipping some sort of drink and watching me wiggle my ass as I struggled with my heels and delicate uniform.Naturally, the k** picked up my schedule too. Unlike the old man, who watched alone, the k** liked to bring over his friends. They always sat on the wooden fence and watched me. Sometimes they took pictures of me – I would have brought this up with the k**’s mother, but I didn’t need that confrontation either!I begged Mistress to change my schedule, but she refused. “I’m not going to vary your schedule just because you’re shy about some k**.” I continued begging, but my pleading only seemed to encourage Mistress. She got off on the attention I got. During the summer, Mistress liked to spice up the show by changing my outside uniform from the maid’s costume and the four inch spiked sandals to a string bikini and a pair of the five inch platform high heeled sandals. I felt so vulnerable as I tried to walk the lawn, pushing the heavy lawnmower in front of me as my breasts bounced up and down in the bikini. Of course, this had the added negative effect of giving me really strong sissy tan lines! This also presented me with the problem of hiding my penis! Since Mistress refused to give me anything to hold my penis down, I needed to keep myself un-aroused! I tried literally everything to help with this problem and nothing worked. In the end, I could only freeze and cover my penis with my hands every time I got an erection.One day the k** even got a picture of me right at the moment my breast fell out of the bikini! How humiliating! I think no other event made me hate Stephanie more than this torture. This went well beyond anything else she’d done. It seemed to me she was getting more and more psychopathic as her dominance of me became total. Absolute power and all that I guess.I probably should explain all the problems I keep mentioning with hiding my penis. Since my little predicament began, I’ve seen several sources on cross dressing and drag queens and the such. Most of these mention one item or another that they use to hide their male genitals – “an uncontrollable bulge can be quite a telltale sign on an otherwise smooth dress” is how the advertisement goes. Mistress, however, refused to buy me anything along those lines. She said she wanted to remind me what I gave up. Consequently, the only thing I had to help me pull of this deception was the pair of panties she gave me each day to wear. This meant that every time I got excited, my penis stood at attention under the panties and my skirt bulged! When I wore very short skirts, like on dates with Master Todd or Master Michael and like the one on my maid’s costume, there was always the danger that the skirt would ride up on top of my penis. This caused my penis to suddenly burst forth into full view! That is what happened to me the time with Master Todd in the car. That also happened several times in the yard and on other occasions.An example of the trouble this could cause me occurred one day as I was about to get out of a cab. I’d been thinking about a woman I saw at the grocery store and how much I liked her dress. The more I thought, the more aroused I became. I didn’t know if I was turned on by the woman or dress. Any way, as I sat in the back of the cab driving home, my penis became erect and stood up like a tent pole underneath my skirt. I quickly set my purse down on top of my lap. As the guy pulled into our driveway, I needed to pretend to look for my house keys because I couldn’t stand up without showing myself. The poor man didn’t even get a tip because he left the meter running till I stepped out. During the time I spent waiting for my erection to shrink, the meter ate up all the money Mistress had given me for the ride – she liked to make sure I couldn’t go anywhere she didn’t sanction, so she often gave me exact change and then just enough to leave a small tip. Of course, the guy got a pretty good tip in the way I let him look down my dress as I pretended to search for my keys.You know, there was one other insidious aspect to this whole thing that never occurred to me until much later. Not only was I constantly reminded of my new feminine state and my lost manhood that wanted to reassert itself, I soon began to resent my penis for all the trouble and humiliation it caused me. When it shot up during my dealings with Master Todd, I actually wished it would go away! Over time though, it got erect less and less and it seem to be getting smaller. I was sure it was just my imagination, but it certainly scared me for a while! In an odd way though, I almost felt relieved!Things had really changed for me. It’s hard to imagine what it was like unless you’ve been there and not too many people have been there – at least until recently (more later). In some ways, I felt like I lived in a prison. In some ways prison paled in comparison. Prison cuts you off from the outside world, but it still allows you to remain mostly yourself. My prison was relentless. Every second of every day, something reminded me of my new status. As I walked, the sound of my heels echoed throughout the room. The wind blew up my skirt. My bra tugged at my back and chest. My hair constantly fell into my face. My nails made simple tasks difficult – I even needed to use a pencil to type or dial the phone (Mistress made me call her after completing each task. She also made me type envelopes for her on the weekend.)Simple things now became complex. I could no longer get in and out of a car with any ease. Instead I needed to bring my feet together and then slide into and out of the car. I felt so silly pulling my skirt encased legs in after me! Mowing the lawn became very difficult as a result of my heels and my loss of strength. Cleaning got harder because I no longer had the strength to move large objects and because my nails made using my hands difficult. Getting dressed now took me hours! The list goes on and on.Any ways, back to the story. I think I mentioned that Master Howard moved into our house one summer. That’s when I started to notice some odd things. For the past however long now, Mistress and Master Howard had been dating. Typically this meant that they would kiss and hold hands and carry-on like love birds right in front of me. Master Howard would often sleep over and, on those occasions, I heard them in my former bedroom laughing and giggling. For the most part, Master Howard ignored me. When he moved in though, he started taking a special interest in me.At first I figured that his moving in was good because Mistress would have less time to watch me. Before his moving in, she watched me every waking moment she was home. Even when Mistress wasn’t home, because she was at work or out at dinner or a movie, she assigned me so many tasks that I literally had no time to myself. Of course, when she got home, the first thing she always did was verify that I did indeed do as she ordered. That was her way of controlling every moment of my day. Frankly, I wanted some privacy again. Even just a few minutes a day would make me incredibly happy! So naturally, I was happy that Master Howard would move in because I figured his presence would distract her. Instead, Master Howard simply added his surveillance to hers. I felt so tense.Master Howard also added some other aspects that made me less comfortable. Ever since I first found myself in this situation, Master Howard liked to humiliate me. He especially liked to buy me very sexy and ultra- delicate/ feminine clothing. I think he saw this as a way to guarantee that he held the advantage in the contest for my wife. Most of my really high heels and shortest skirts came as gifts from him. Even worse, for each gift he gave me, my own wife made me kiss him on the cheek! At first he just laughed when I did this. I guess he was laughing at the competition. Later he seemed rather contemptuous of me and would shove me away when I tried to kiss him – still he bought me more clothes. Then, after he moved in, he started to act more subdued – almost pleased when I went to kiss him.I attributed his change in attitude to the fact that he clearly won Mistress and defeated me completely. But he acted so strangely. I noticed that some mornings he kissed me good morning as I made his breakfast. On other days he helped me carry heavy items. And then, there were the little things.One day, after I finished painting my nails, I sat to slide my nylons back up my legs. He walked over to me and picked up my patent leather dress pumps (they allowed me to wear closed shoes and longer skirts in the winter). He checked his reflection in the high gloss on one of my shoes. Then he kneeled down and slid the shoe onto my foot. After that he took my hand and lifted me off the couch. Then he left the room.I didn’t know what to make of that. Was he gay? Did he now think of me as a woman? I just didn’t know.A few months(?) after Master Howard first moved in, Mistress held her second large garden party. This party was notable because of how its theme came about and how it went down.One night, as I sat in the diningroom re-polishing the silverware – Mistress made me repeat my work as punishment for a hard day at work – I heard Master Howard and Mistress arguing over something. I couldn’t quite make out what the argument was, but I heard Mistress say “I don’t want two sissies in this family.” Master Howard responded, “It’s only a gag.” And Mistress responded, “you want to do it, then do it yourself you sicko.” I placed my ear against the wall, but nothing else was intelligible.The next day, as Mistress worked, Master Howard came home early. He sat down on the couch and watched me work. After a few minutes, he started mumbling to himself. I couldn’t tell too much of what he said, but I did clearly hear, “I don’t need her permission to do this.” Then he shot up off the couch and came over to me. “Pauline, come with me. There’s something I want to do and I need your help.”I followed him down the hallway dreading what was coming next. My imagination filled with hundreds of horrid possibilities. When he turned and headed to my room, I really feared for the worst! “Stephie put this damn idea in my head and now she wants me to forget it. Well, I’ll tell you, I want to satisfy my curiosity.””Yes sir.””Good, I’m glad you understand.” I didn’t. He stopped in front of my closet. “Now listen to me Pauline. What we’re about to do, well. . . I want you to forget we ever did this.” I started to panic! I wondered if I could get away from him in these shoes! I KNEW that I was to be ****d or worse! “Do you understand me? No one and I mean no one – not Stephie, not anyone ever hears about this.”I began shaking all over. I heard myself blather out, “yes sir.””So you understand, even if Stephanie asks you directly what we did, you will lie to her and say nothing. You will endure any punishment she puts you through to maintain that lie. Do you understand?”What was he talking about? How could I disobey her to obey him? Frankly, I wasn’t equipped to make that sort of judgement. I went on autopilot. “Yes sir.””Ok, let’s get on with it.” I looked at the door. I doubted I would make it to the stairs before he caught me. Every essence of my body wanted to run, but I was not prepared to up the ante by getting caught. I looked at him, my eyes begging him to let me go. Then suddenly, he turned and walked into my closet. I was shocked! What was he doing?I waited a few minutes as he rummaged around. Then he backed out of the closet with several of my clothes in his arms. “I don’t think any of your dresses will fit me because you’re too small – even before you finally started losing weight you were too small, but the underwear should stretch and my feet are only a size bigger than yours,” he spoke nervously.Master Howard set the clothing on the bed and started stripping. I was in a daze. The next half hour passed in dream time. I still have vague memories of Master Howard getting naked and then pulling on some panties, a bra, some stockings, and a pair of shoes – only three inch heels, but I don’t remember a thing he said. Finally, he sat down at my vanity and made me put him in make up. I obeyed without thinking.I guess I should have been laughing at the macho guy who voluntarily brought himself to my level, laughing at the competition who was no better than I at heart, but I couldn’t. I didn’t feel very good about the whole thing.When I finished with the make up and touching up his short hair as best I could, he stood up and wobbled his way to the full length mirror in the hallway. He cursed the heels and the makeup, which he’d smeared several times already. I followed him to the hallway. Master Howard stood primping in front of the mirror, checking out every part of his body. He was lost in a dream state. It was really strange to watch. If I’d caught him like this before my change, I would have taught him a thing or two about humiliation!Then he saw me watching him and he snapped out of it. He spread his feet into a swaggering, masculine, awkward pose and spat at me, “I knew it. Ha! I don’t look a damn thing like you sissy.””Pardon me sir, but I don’t understand.” I figured I could take this liberty since Master Howard obviously was doing something he wasn’t supposed to do.”Oh, yeah I guess this would be confusing for you. I just wanted to see something. Stephanie seemed to think that masculinity gives way to the clothing. I don’t buy that. Look at me. I look like a normal guy in a dress, don’t I?””Yes sir.””I thought so. There isn’t the slightest feminine thing about me. I’m not like you at all.” He was talking to himself again. “Ha! There’s nothing in me that would let her turn me into a sissy!””What the hell is going on!” We both froze. I saw Mistress’ reflection appear in the mirror behind us. “You sissy bastard! It isn’t bad enough that I married one man who wants to be a damn woman, but now I’m dating another?!”Master Howard turned to face her. “It’s not like that at all dear.””Don’t give me that crap. You sicko!” Mistress turned and stormed back downstairs. Master Howard followed her. I stood there, chuckling.Later that night, Mistress made me polish her shoes in the livingroom. Master Howard walked in. He had returned to his business suit from earlier, except he still wore my heels! I guess he discovered just how much power Mistress wields.The next day Mistress allowed Master Howard to return to all male clothing, but she had a price. That night at dinner, she announced the second garden party of the season. She said the theme would be cross-dressing and she ordered Master Howard to do his best to promote the idea among the male guests. “If any of them don’t come dressed as women, you’ll spend a lot of time in drag to make up for their unwillingness. Paula could always use a hand around here.”As I prepared for the party, I reluctantly stripped off my make up and nail polish. Even with my auburn hair and new shape, I feared that without my make up I’d start looking like Paul Green again. I looked at the clothing on the bed. In other circumstances, I would have been thrilled by what I saw! A man’s suit complete with pants! Men’s socks, underwear, and wing tips! Wow. I hadn’t worn these since I lost my job so many eons ago! So why wasn’t I happier?Well, for one thing, I still kept my long nails and my long auburn hair. I wasn’t allowed to remove the polish from my toe nails. My body remained hairless. My shape remained female. I guess, I feared that no matter what I wore, I’d still look like a woman. That would be a difficult blow to my psyche. If I remained a woman even in men’s clothing, how could I ever escape? I was also terrified that someone at the party would recognize me.You know, I should probably mention that, well. . . I guess, the other thing that bothered me about these clothes was that they were such a change. If I’m going to be completely honest as I promised, I must admit that I liked some of the aspects of female clothing and I wasn’t too thrilled to give them up. It’s like, you know, being naked for years and suddenly having to adjust to wearing a suit all day. You may realize that the suit is right for you, but you don’t particularly like it because it’s not comfortable now that you’re used to being naked. Comfort actually became a bigger deal than I would have guessed.As I slipped into the cotton briefs, I instantly missed the silky feel of my panties. When I followed this up with the thick coarse pants, I felt positively restrained. It felt like wearing a heavy coat in the summer! For the first time in however long, no breeze caressed my legs! Polyester socks substituted poorly for silky stockings. The shirt (also polyester) felt very rough and ungiving against my nipples. This friction caused my nipples to become hard, but brought me more pain than pleasure. Imagine rubbing your penis softly with sandpaper. The jacket weighed so much that it felt like an anchor. Finally, the shoes. Oh my God! what can I say about those shoes?! These things sucked. They were heavy and thick. They were ungiving and stiff. Worst of all, they were flat! Within a minute, my feet began to hurt, causing a shooting pain to run up my legs. This pain became so intense that I removed the shoes and slipped back into my heels.As I entered the kitchen in my men’s suit and women’s heels, Mistress exploded. “What are you doing? Men don’t wear heels! Go take them off!””But Mistress, my feet.””I don’t care. Go change.” I returned to my room, bitter. I tossed the shoes on and returned to the kitchen. For the rest of the night, my feet were in constant pain. I came to hate those wingtips. When the party finally ended, I was so relieved I actually wore my heels to bed.By the end of the evening, I actually began to resent all of the clothes I wore. The shirt and socks felt scratchy and uncomfortably warm. The socks failed to protect my nail polish – each of my toes were horribly scuffed by those nasty shoes. The pants were uncomfortable as was the jacket. Without a bra, my breasts pulled extra hard on my chest, making my back hurt. My nipples were sore from constantly rubbing against the shirt. With each step, my breasts bounced up and down. By the end of the evening, I had small bruises all over them and I resented each one. I truly longed for my feminine finery.The party itself was a hoot. All the guys wore some form of dress or skirt. Most of them looked positively ridiculous, although a couple looked a little too good not to raise suspicion. The wives got a lot more fun out of the evening than the husbands. The women tended to separate from the men into little cliches that spent most of the night reviewing each of the guys. Later they rejoined their men for some heavy teasing. As payment for their humiliations, more than one man received a hand job underneath his skirt.I did note, by the way, that almost every woman wore female shoes. All in all, I was the only one there wearing men’s shoes and I would have traded those for the world.As I stomped around in my uncomfortable costume, each and every man hit on me. I would have liked to humiliate them a bit about their costumes, but Mistress ordered me to “be demure.” It positively disgusted me to see several of their penises sticking up underneath their skirts as they spoke to me. The other women seemed to enjoy the show though.The women kept coming up to me and saying stupid things like, “you must be so relieved to be out of that maid’s uniform!” (Most of them saw me at the first party and a few saw me from a distance when they visited the house – Mistress liked for me to be seen, but not up close “I don’t need you recognized.”) They would also say, “I can’t believe you wear such high heels. You must be so happy to be out of them.” Little did they know. And “you’re so pretty, there’s no way you can pull off being a man.” Gee, thanks. I guess this was the prevailing view because I won the “worst man” award. That was quite a shame considering my circumstances.Master Howard, “Missy” as he called himself that night, didn’t win the “best woman” award but he came close. It amazed me how well Mistress managed his transformation into a woman! If she ever turned her powers against him, he’d easily replace me!When all was said and done, I did enjoy myself except for the constant pain! I have to believe, by the way, that Mistress fully intended to cause me pain. I mean, come on, there isn’t a polyester object in the house! And if the other women could wear heels or women’s flats, why did I need to wear wing tips? Well, her plan worked. After this party, my longing to return to male clothing subsided greatly. Even when I imagined myself as male again, I still saw myself complete with hair, make up, nails, and heels. Plus, I couldn’t shake the image of the wide hips and proud breasts.Still, I should have tried right? With a man living in the house, why didn’t I go get some male clothing and put an end to this whole affair? That’s a fair question. All I can say is that it wasn’t that easy.I found myself in Mistress’ bedroom one day looking at all the male clothing in Master Howard’s closet. My memories of the party kept my enthusiasm low. Still I pulled out a suit and held it up to me (Mistress destroyed all the clothes I’d worn to the party, except the shoes which Mistress kept locked up as a potential punishment for future misbehaviour! How’s that for a twist!). Master Howard was so much larger than I that I knew right away his clothes would never fit. Still I pulled the pants up over my maid’s costume. Even with the short skirt and petticoats the pants were way too large for me – except in the hips. My rear end was obviously bigger than Master Howard’s, but the rest of me was smaller. Even in the four inch heels, the pants hung down to the ground. The jacket was likewise way too large for me – except in the chest where it was snug. From this excursion, I realized that Master Howard’s clothes would do me no good. I could have tried Master Todd’s clothes – he was smaller than Master Howard, but he kept his room locked so I couldn’t gain access. That’s actually something I should mention. I eventually found out why he kept his room locked!Master Todd returned for the wedding ceremony only he hadn’t returned alone. His new girlfriend, Barbara, didn’t like me much from the get go and she let me know. Within a day or so, it became obvious that she really hated me. I guess she saw me as unfair competition for her boyfriend. It’s not my fault she dressed like a man and had small breasts!My suspicions were confirmed a few nights later as I sat at my vanity table removing my make up. Barbara came storming into my room holding up a pair of pink panties. The panties looked like ones I’d lost many months before.I rose from my chair. We were about the same height, but in my high heeled mules I stood a few inches taller. “These belong to you.” She tossed the panties in my face. “I found them in Todd’s closet. Take them back bitch and don’t you ever touch my Todd again! You little slut!” She slapped me across the face. I fell backwards a few steps, cringing in fear, expecting more. It didn’t come. She stood there, frozen, with hatred written in her eyes – beneath her mannish eyebrows. “I hate you tramp!” she grunted through her tears as she stormed off. I fell to the floor and cried in relief for a few minutes.I guess that explained the locked closet and my missing panties? Ironically, Mistress already spanked me once for losing those panties – she thought I’d ruined them and tossed them out to hide my carelessness. I wonder if she would have felt guilty knowing she’d spanked the wrong party? Probably not. Fortunately, Miss Barbara picked a night to confront me when no one else was home. I didn’t want to try explaining this one to a gawking crowd.I know I dropped the word “wedding” rather suddenly, but that’s how it came to me – suddenly. One day as I polished the floor, Mistress walked in hand in hand with Master Howard. They’d both come from work so they both wore suits. Mistress’ suit was Gray with long slacks. She wore mid-heeled loafers with chunky heels and thick soles. Master Howard work a dark blue pin striped double breasted suit and a tie I liked a lot. His wingtips were impeccably polished, even if I do say so myself!”We have an announcement and we wanted you to be the fifth person to know.” Mistress like to remind me that I was no longer the most important person in her life, though clearly she was the most important in my life. “Why don’t you tell him Richard.””I think I’d rather you told her. She’ll appreciate the irony more.” Master Howard like to refer to me as a “her.” Mistress only referred to me as “her” when we had company.”Alright, I’ll tell him.” They kissed, then she bent down and looked me straight in the eyes. A smile crossed her beautiful face. She reached out her hand and grabbed my chin between her fingers. “We’re getting married!” I dropped my brush. She rose again. “Well not really married. We’re going to go through a ceremony, but not do anything official. I wouldn’t want to be accused of bigamy.” She looked at me, kneeling on the floor before both of them. I saw her eyes run the length of my body starting with the high heels I wore, the silver polish on my toenails, my feminine legs, my ruffled maid’s costume, my enormous breasts, my long soft auburn hair, and finally my painted face. Some picture of a husband I made! “Well, aren’t you happy for us dear?” This question was obviously rhetorical. “Your services will, of course, be required. Never fear about that. You belong to this household. Tonight though, we’ll be eating out. You can eat the sandwich I didn’t finish at lunch yesterday. Afterwards, why don’t you polish all of my and Richard’s shoes. Then get dressed for bed. I expect you to be in bed by 8:30 tonight.” They walked out. I did as required.Mistress knew exactly what she was doing by sending me to bed early. She knew that I would not be able to sleep because my body new to fall asleep at 9:00 sharp and not before or after. The entire time I lay there I had nothing to do but think about what was about to happen. Soon I found myself crying like a baby. I don’t know how long I cried, but I know I didn’t stop before I fell asleep.The next day the wedding preparations began. Mistress planned for a small ceremony in the back yard in about two weeks. They planned to invite about twenty five friends and their husbands or wives. Typing up the invitation was left to me – my nails were so long I had to use a pencil to do the typing! Cleaning up the back yard was left to me too. So was making the decorations, preparing the cooking, shopping for the food, and making alterations to all of the wedding dresses! Not only did I need to help prepare my wife’s wedding dress – think about the irony in that one!, but I also helped any bridesmaid or usher or anyone else in the wedding party who needed alterations. All of this was heaped on me in addition to my regular duties. Mistress ran me ragged that whole week!As I sewed all of the very lovely bridesmaid dresses, I began to dread the wedding. Horribly though, my dread stemmed from my not knowing how I would be dressed, not the fact that my wife was about to belong to another man – if she really could belong to a man and not the other way around!Towards the end of the first week, something really strange happened that would have profound consequences. I had just returned from the grocery store to find Master Howard asleep naked on the couch. I wore a lovely flower print sun dress and these very sexy multi-coloured sandals that Mistress bought me as a “wedding gift.” Any ways, Master Howard often slept on the couch. Sometimes he slept naked. It did not surprise me to find him such.I set the groceries down in the kitchen and returned to the living room. I wanted to wake Master Howard and ask him to help me bring the fold-out chairs from the garage to the backyard. I figured my clicking heels must have woken him up, but he still slept.As I entered the living-room, I couldn’t take my eyes from his penis! I don’t understand why I felt so fascinated. The idea of seeing another man naked or touching a naked man or kissing one or anything else that belongs exclusively in the domain of men and women together sickens me more than I can explain with mere words. That’s what makes what happened next all the more surprising.I stood transfixed, watching his stomach rise and fall softly with his breaths. He definitely slept. His right leg was d****d up over a couch cushion. His left leg rested on the floor. Between his legs, his incredible penis hung, swaying slowly with his breaths. It was soft right now, and it still measured six inches long and two inches in diameter! Even before my ordeal began, my penis never measured that size – except when hard!Suddenly, my legs began moving. I found myself creeping closer to him – the sound of my heels clicking off the hard wood floors echoed like gunshots. He still slept. I knelt down between his legs. I wanted, no, that’s not right. . . I needed to see his penis at its full glory. I needed to see the competitor that stole my wife and turned me into the thing that knelt before him. With my head less than two feet from his organ, a wicked thought crossed my mind. I reached into my purse and pulled out a pair of scissors. I could rob my competitor of his greatest weapon! “We’ll see if Mistress still marries him when he no longer has this!” Slowly, my right hand reached out towards his testicles. My left hand gripped the scissors tightly. My right hand pushed through his pubic hair. He wiggled! I froze.When I satisfied myself that he would not awake, my red tipped fingers continued their journey. I felt giddy and nauseous at the same time as my fingers wrapped around his testicles and gave them a little squeeze. “Say good bye boys!” But then, without warning, his shaft began to expand. I thought about raising the scissors and exacting my revenge, but I was instantly overcome with a stronger impulse. I needed to see his penis in action!I set the scissors down. Free again, my left hand wrapped itself around his enormous shaft. It grew beneath my soft fingers. It felt soft and silky and warm. I felt my own mini-penis become erect as well. Slowly, I stroked his shaft up and down. I was transfixed by its pulsating mass. What was I doing? Why couldn’t I stop? I still don’t know today. It was like some sort of dream state. I had no choice but to go where my impulses took me. All I can figure is that this was my form of revenge? No, I don’t buy that either. I think this just has to go down to loneliness and curiosity.As Master Howard’s breathing grew faster and faster, my stroking kept pace. I could tell that he neared explosion! My own penis neared explosion as well! This was exciting! This was the first thing I’d done without someone else’s permission in months!I could sense he was near bursting. Just then it hit me – where could I put the semen? Without slowing my pace I looked around for an ashtray. No one here smoked! There were no glasses around and no towels! I thought, maybe I could let him shoot off into my purse? No, I couldn’t see myself applying semen stained lipstick and mascara for the next couple of weeks. My shoe! Damn, I was wearing sandals. I guess I could let him shoot off against my dress? No. This dress was silk and would stain and Mistress wanted to see me in it when she got home in a few minutes. I quickly became desperate looking for somewhere to land his fluid! Needless to say, I was too excited to stop stroking his penis – besides, at this point he would ejaculate one way or another. I’d rather control the expulsion, than let him wonder why he shot a load onto the floor and couch.My time to think ran out. I felt his body jerk. I knew what came next, I had to act now. In the split second left to me, I did the only thing I could think of. I placed my lips around his shaft and took the load in my mouth. My revenge against him, turned into yet another humiliation for me.As his salty fluid filled my mouth, I began to gag. Unlike Masters Todd and Michael, Master Howard ejaculated so much semen that my entire mouth filled up. I wanted to spit it out, as Masters Todd and Michael had allowed me, but it was just too much to hold in my mouth until I could get to the bathroom. I tried, but I began to gag halfway there. I swallowed most of it. The rest remained spread around my mouth. I needed mouth wash and fast!If history is any guide, it teaches me that I cannot win. Things not only go wrong with me, they go more wrong than I ever thought possible. What began as a bit of fascination about an object I no longer owned in abundance and had turned into twisted thoughts of a humiliating revenge, had become a horrible form of humiliation which saw me on my knees of my own volition, filling my mouth with my tormentor’s semen! What could be worse than that? Only one thing. Master Howard woke up as I began my mad dash to the restroom!”Hold it sweetie.” I froze, my mouth still full of half swallowed semen. “Turn around.” I did as ordered. Master Howard smiled at me. My eyes instinctively fell to his penis, which was slowly growing again. “I had this great dream I want to tell you about. Apparently, some beautiful woman sucked on my cock. Imagine my surprise to wake up and find my penis wet with saliva, a bit of cum dripping out of it, and your little sissy body running away from me as fast as your gay feet would take you.” I remained motionless, aware that he could do anything he wanted to me and I had no recourse. His response shocked me. He laughed. “You do a better job of it than Stephie, that’s for sure.”I smiled more out of confusion than approval. A drop or two of semen slipped out from between my lips. I didn’t know what to say. I hoped he wasn’t going to ask me to repeat my performance. The taste of the semen was still burning a hole in my mouth and my mind. I NEEDED to get some mouth wash. I couldn’t leave this in my mouth for much longer!”You got a little bit on your lips.” Master Howard moved closer as he wiped at my mouth with his finger. “Go ahead, lick it off.” He held his finger in my face. I did as I was told. “Uh, uh! A little slower and sexier. Pretend it’s my penis which you like so much.” I wanted to cry, but thought better of it. Slowly, I ran my tongue around his finger in tight spirals, as if I were teasing it. Finally he said enough. “Good girl. Now go rinse out your mouth before Stephie gets home.” I turned and started down the hallway. He pinched my rear as I turned. “Make sure to shake your tush. You’ll have to do that perfectly to handle the little task I’m going to assign you.”That sounded like a threat. I didn’t care though, I was thinking about mouthwash.That night I dreamed about giving him a hundred blow jobs. Oh boy.Every day I seemed to fall in deeper. Day by day my muscles shrank. I became weaker and weaker until I couldn’t even lift 50 pounds anymore. I began weighing myself religiously. I went from a slightly overweight 175 pounds to a very underweight 145 pounds. Mistress still insisted that I hadn’t lost a pound! For some reason she kept lying to me about this. I still don’t know why. All I can figure is that she saw all this flab on my body and she figured I needed an incentive to lose it. I decided not to let on that I knew she was lying.That flab I mentioned showed up most prominently in my breasts, which kept growing and growing. By now they were huge! How huge? Think of them as g****fruits instead of the oranges they were when Todd first got his hand on one. And compare that to the g****s they were when I first noticed them. And compare that to the nothing I used to have! I tried to weigh one on the scale but I couldn’t figure out the mechanics of the whole thing. I guess they weighed a few pounds though. It took a B cup bra to contain them – and even then they were straining to spring free. Unfortunately, all this fat pressing against the skin was causing my nipples to stretch! The big part had gone from the size of a nickel to a half dollar and the nipple itself from the size of a pencil lead to a pea. I hoped that would reversed itself too when the fat left my chest again!In addition to size, all this fat was extremely sensitive. Any time someone touch my breasts, I felt an electric charge shoot down my spine and my whole body was instantly turned on. There was no quicker way to cause an erection than to fondle my breasts! Even Mistress’ hand on my penis did not bring it to full erection as quickly as a light touch on one of my breasts! Sometimes I couldn’t get hard without involving my breasts! This wasn’t so bad though. I kind of enjoyed having these sexual toys on my chest – they made up for my shrinking penis (which I finally attributed to tight panties!).In the meantime, my waist kept shrinking. I couldn’t understand that. How could my breasts grow if my waist shrank? Mistress controlled my diet and I ate a good deal – I wasn’t starving – so I shouldn’t have lost too much weight if any. But I lost a lot of weight. So if I lost weight, how could I grow so round? How could I grow so big in some areas and simultaneously lose mass? All the weight I lost in my muscles in my arms and legs and chest must have turned to fat and spread to my chest, hips and rear. I must have looked ridiculous!Strangely, my feet seemed to change as well. I don’t mean that they shrank or grew or anything, but wearing high heels day after day after day slowly accustomed my feet to the angle. Soon I literally couldn’t walk without them. Can you believe that? I could take a few steps, but then my feet would start to hurt and I would need to rise back up onto my tiptoes.The first time I actually got my hands on some flat shoes (they belonged to Barbara), I took only a couple of steps before I actually needed to pull my feet out of the shoes just so that I could stand on my toes to end the pain! This got worse as the days passed. Heaven help me when my shoes prevented me from getting back up on my toes – like the wingtips. The worst punishment Mistress inflicted on me was to make me switch to those damn wingtips!Low heeled shoes weren’t too comfortable either, but they weren’t as bad flats. Of all the changes, this seemed the most ominous because it made my escape much more difficult – how could I run away in pumps?I guess the real question is how I could let this happen to me? Why didn’t I kick off the heels the moment I was alone and walk flat-footed all day? To tell the truth, the thought just never occurred to me! At first I wore them all the time because I needed to work hard just to balance in the shoes. I needed as much practice as I could get. Then for a while, Master Todd was there and I was never alone. By the time he left, I guess I was just accustomed to wearing them. And then the pain started whenever I didn’t wear them. And frankly, I just didn’t feel right in flats. I walked better and I balanced better in heels. That’s all there was to it. So you see, it was natural for me to end up wearing them all the time. It was inevitable.Wearing high heels for the first time is an experience that is hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t had the privilege. Most women know what I mean, but I doubt too many guys do. It’s the strangest feeling to gain three or four inches in height. Suddenly, your whole world takes on a different view as you see everything from a little higher. Things once familiar instantly become new. Door knobs rest lower than they should. Items dropped fall farther away than they use to. Even people seem changed as you look down into their faces where formerly you looked up.This new height at first gives one a feeling of power. They say a man is master of all he surveys; wearing high heels increases what you can survey and, thus, you immediately feel more grand. However, this feeling of power quickly vanishes as you realize that your new found empire is precariously balanced. The first wobble or shaky step teaches the high heel wearer that he or she is vulnerable to the world around him or her. High heels are unforgiving, there is no recovery from any false step.Just a thought.Master Howard started treating me much nicer after the recent events. With the wedding coming up, neither he nor Mistress had much time to deal with me on a personal level. Still Master Howard smiled at me more and he often found time to help finish my tasks. He also started calling me Pauline, which was a more respectable name than the derogatory way he’d been saying “Paul-a” or the outright insulting “sissy.”About a week and a half before the wedding, Mistress came home with a box of videotapes. “I brought these for you to watch.” I was intrigued. As I may have mentioned, my life had changed in many ways besides the physical changes. If you’ll recall, Mistress cut me off from the outside world. As the days passed, I slowly forgot more and more about the outside world. I hadn’t read a paper or watched the television in so long I couldn’t even tell you who was President. I remember asking Mistress who won the election, but she refused to tell me. She just gave me a snide, “which election honey?” and walked off.Mistress and Master Howard often discussed the news, but they always forced me to leave first. As I explained before, they used a c***d lockout device on the tv to keep me from watching tv and they refused to buy me any magazines except fashion magazines. Master Todd didn’t help either because he seemed to revel in my ignorance. I honestly think this caused my vocabulary to shrink! It certainly made it more difficult for me to carry on conversations. Surprisingly, it made me mentally insecure as well. Without much conversation and no knowledge of events, I became easy prey for anyone who wanted to exert their intellectual superiority over me. Mistress could always shut me up with a simple, “what do you know anyway? You don’t know anything!” As a consequence, I became withdrawn and unsure of my own mind. Soon I found myself trusting other people’s words over my own knowledge.So needless to say, I thrilled at the prospect of seeing a box full of video tapes! Finally, a view to the outside again! I felt giddy with excitement as she opened the box. “I’m glad to see you’re so happy. You’re really going to like these. They’ll teach you a new skill.” I felt my heart sink. Mistress’ idea of educational television was the fashion channel. “There are twenty tapes here. Each one is two hours long. You have eight days to learn what’s on these tapes. Hmmm, so from now on. . .” Mistress was adjusting my schedule in her head. I awaited the results.Mistress walked out to the livingroom. I watched her walk. All the working out she’d done lately really paid off – she looked very sexy. I followed her. She popped the tape into the machine. Moments later I realized her evil plan.”Ok, here’s what you’ll do. From now on you will get up one hour earlier. Then you’ll practice dancing with these tapes for one hour before making my breakfast. Then after breakfast you’ll do three more hours. Then do your normal chores. In the evening, you’ll skip dinner and spend that hour practicing as well. Richard went out and bought you some costumes, use those. Remember, you must be perfect at this and quickly.” Mistress turned and walked away as I gaped at the stripper plying her trade on the television.Master Howard indeed bought me some costumes – several in fact. I opened the box and found g-strings, tassels, bras designed to show off nipples, a few odds and ends – like a cowboy hat or a cop hat, and several pairs of unbelievable heels. All of these shoes came with five or six inch heels and very thick platforms – they looked like the kind Mistress made me wear to mow the lawn. Compared to my maid costume’s four inch platform sandals or my regular three inch sandals and pumps or my three inch mules/slippers, these things looked positively painful! Still, I’d manage. I was more concerned about how Mistress planned for me to use them.In fact, Mistress’ plans for my future concerned me so much that I finally decided to make my escape. I had no money, no male clothing, nowhere to go, but I determined to leave.I waited a few minutes after Mistress and Master Howard left for dinner and I headed straight for Mistress’ new sports car (I’d never been in that car). I wore a flowery yellow sundress and some three inch yellow sandals. I probably should have thought that through. Sadly, wearing such high heels just became normal for me. I didn’t think twice that these heels would pose a problem.I slid behind the wheel of the car, the first time I’d been in the driver’s seat in a very long time. “Oh great, a stick shift! Well, I guess it’s not something you forget.” I placed the spare keys I found in Master Howard’s pants pocket (doing his laundry) into the ignition and turned. Nothing happened. “Maybe I need to push the clutch in?” Ignition! I adjusted the mirrors and then tightened the seat belt. Slowly I backed it out of the driveway – sputtering and lurching the whole way. Out in the road, I put it in first and the car started moving! I felt great, but also scared. The car started revving higher and I went to shift to second. Something grabbed my foot! I couldn’t pull my foot back! “Damn, my heel is caught under the petal!” I tugged and tugged as the car slowly rolled to a stop. Finally I extricated my foot. I put the car back in first. Then I saw the cop.I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. I knew this guy would take me to jail where they would do all sorts of horrible things to me! Or, even worse, he would return me to Mistress who would torture me!By the time the cop came up to me, I was shaking so hard that he thought I was on d**gs. He made me step out of the car. “Calm down lady.””Yes sir.” Sniff, sniff. “I’m sorry officer.””Let me see your license.”My license? Oops. I forgot about that. “I don’t have one officer.””You don’t have one? Why are you driving?” He pulled out his ticket book. It was time to use my femininity to my advantage.”I’m so sorry officer,” I forced a few more tears out. “I know I’m not supposed to drive, but I needed to go pick up my friend from the airport and no one else was around and. . .””Ok, ok. Where do you live?””Please, officer, can’t we settle this some other way?” I ran my finger down his jacket. He didn’t try to stop me. I mean, what the hell. I’d given several blow jobs already, what’s one more. Besides, the consequences of getting caught were so huge!He started to smile. “I guess we can work something out.” He moved in closer to me. Fortunately it was dark. I placed my hands on his sides and pulled him near. Then I slowly dropped to my knees. As I undid his zipper, the officer told me that I needed to return the car to the garage and tell my friend to take a cab. I nodded my head and continued my work. A few minutes later, I tasted salty fluid shooting into my mouth. This time I didn’t even think twice about swallowing. I rezipped his pants and rose to my feet. “That was real nice. Now get home.” He kissed me on the lips and pinched my nipple. Then he disappeared into his cruiser and left me to return the car to the garage. My escape attempt, like everything else I tried, turned into a humiliating defeat.With the wedding only three days away, I had become quite the master stripper. I’d watched almost every tape by now and I’d done so much dancing (and so little eating) that I’d dropped to 130 pounds! The higher heels didn’t prove much of a problem – but I was always happy to return to the lower heels. The back yard was set up for the wedding. Master Todd and Miss Barbara were here. Everything was ready.Mistress walked into the livingroom after dinner and watched me dancing with the stripper on the last tape. Master Todd watched most of the performance and even gave me a few tips. Mistress looked at him and asked, “Is he any good?””He’s great!” Master Howard patted my rear.”Good. Turn off the tape and come to the kitchen Pauline.” Mistress returned to the kitchen. (I don’t know exactly when I went from Paula to Pauline, but that was now my new name – Mistress said it sounded more servile. Master Howard thought it sounded more sexy. I was indifferent.)As I entered the kitchen, I saw Mistress checking through her phone book. “I’ll bet you’ve been wondering why you’re learning to strip. The short answer is that you’re going to perform at the Bachelor and Bachelorette parties.” I felt my blood freeze. Would she really do that to me? “Now it’s important that you remember, the bachelors are NOT to know what you really are. I don’t care what you have to do to prevent their finding out, but there will be hell to pay if they do. Do you understand?””Yes Mistress.””Good. For the boys, I want you to wear the nurses costume and the white platforms.” The highest ones. “Red nails on your fingers and toes, make sure you get a good shave. Do about a ten minute dance and then get in close for a couple of lap dances. Remember that if they’re not happy, I won’t be happy either. Comprende?””Yes Mistress.””For the ladies, wear the cop costume, complete with handcuffs. Wear the black platforms and pink polish. Both parties will take place at a local restaurant, so there’s no need to worry about preparing the house. One of us will take you to the party and bring you home. I don’t want you socializing with the boys after your dance. Just go wait in the ladiesroom until we come get you. Got it?””Yes Mistress.””Good girl.” Mistress slapped my rear and ushered me out of the kitchen to finish my strip practice.That night, before I went to bed, I heard Mistress and Master Howard arguing. “I don’t think we need it,” he said. “Yes we do,” she ordered. Soon he’d lost the argument and I was ordered to the livingroom. As I entered, Master Howard lay on the couch as he did the day of my abortive revenge. His penis was already growing. Mistress ordered me on my knees in front of him.Mistress handed me a lipstick. “Put this on good and heavy.” I did, my eyes darting back and forth between Mistress and Master Howard’s ever growing organ. “Now kiss his penis to leave a good clear lipstick print.” I did as I was ordered. I felt his penis pulse beneath my lips. “Now back off and give me a pose of the horny young lady about to go down on Richard’s big thick penis.” I backed up a few inches, wrapped my hand around his testicles, then pursed my lips. Mistress clicked off several pictures. “Ok, now take as much of it in your mouth as you can.” I swallowed its head, but went no further. “You can take more than that. Let’s hear you gag dear.” I forced more of it into my mouth. I felt its tip bump into the opening of my throat. Mistress took more pictures. Then she ordered me to leave the room. As I left, I saw Mistress take my place.I was a ball of nervous tension. I’d passed as a woman in stores, around the house, and even on dates with horny teenagers! But this, this seemed different. I’d never been expected to get so naked before!Master Howard led me out of the car and to the ladiesroom. “I’ll knock on the door when it’s time for you to come out.”I paced back and forth. Trying to take my mind off what I was about to do, I thought about how I would clean this bathroom if it fell under my duties. This place was clean, but not sparkling! I noticed a chip on my little toe on my right foot. I’d have to fix that when I got home. Outside I heard the sounds of drunken men partying. I tugged on the small nurses skirt. After an hour or so, I heard a knock.As I made my way to the stage, the catcalls begin. “Ooh baby! Wow! Woah mama!” Then the recognition. “Hey, isn’t that the girl from the pictures? Damn she’s even better in person! What a hottie! What maid service did you find her at?” I tried to block it all out.I climbed up onto the makeshift stage. I heard the music pumping through my body and the air around me. I knew the song, but couldn’t recognize it in the state I was in. The men started jumping up and down cheering as I pranced around the stage. I went on instinct. Thank God for the tapes. I held my head up high, made each step with authority, and I ran my hands all over my body any chance I got. My nipples became erect right away – this brought cheers. Only God knows why my penis didn’t grow! Finally I reached the point where clothing needed to start coming off. I knew the three things I had to leave on were the nurse’s cap, my sandals, and my very tight g-string. Everything else would come off.I said “g-string”, but in fact I wore two g-strings. I wore one so tightly to keep my penis down that I thought my testicles would be cut off with every step I took. It genuinely hurt, but it kept me hidden. The other g- string lay on top of the first, covering what would have been a strange sight.Slowly I pulled the buttons apart on the back of the nurses tunic. I yanked. My bra encased breasts sprang free for all to see as I waved the tunic over my head. I tossed it into the audience as I wiggled my breasts back and forth. Fortunately or unfortunately, the lights were too bright for me to see any faces so I don’t know who got it. I danced back and forth some more and then reached for my bra. A tease. I nodded my finger back and forth as if to say, “no no.” I returned to my dance, shaking my breasts. My g****fruits felt like watermelons today. I went for my bra again. Another tease. Instead, I reached down and pulled off my garter belt. I tossed that to another section of the audience. They went wild. I could tell the guys were rushing the stage, but I didn’t want to look down.I placed my leg up on the chair sitting on stage with me. Slowly I rolled my stocking down to my ankle. With these sandals though, I couldn’t roll it beneath the ankle straps. So I pulled the stocking back up my leg. Another tease. I switched feet on the chair. This time I skillfully undid the shoe’s buckle as my other hand distracted the boys’ attention around my nipple. Again I rolled the stocking down. As it neared my shoe, I pulled my foot out of the shoe and pulled off the stocking. In one fluid motion, I stuck my foot back into the shoe and redid the buckle. Then I took the stocking and bent down to the closest guy. I ran the stocking through his hair and walked away to remove the other.Soon the only thing left I could remove was my bra. This was a moment I dreaded very much. I don’t mind wearing women’s clothes. You kind of get used to that. And, as a consequence, you know that guys will stare at your body. I don’t mind that either. In fact, it’s almost flattering. But to have a room of drunken men look beneath my dress, to see my oh-so- feminine breasts jiggling freely for all to see is too much. What could I do though? I reached behind my back and unstrapped the bra. I pulled it off while simultaneously covering my breasts with my arms. Then I tossed the bra into the audience and showed off my set. The crowd exploded.Then disaster struck. My penis sprang free beneath the g-string and it began to rise! There was only one thing I could do. I dropped to my knees and covered my penis with one hand. As I worked furiously to cram it back beneath the g-string, I licked my fingertips on the other hand to distract the guys. Unfortunately, when I hit the ground, I misjudged the guys’ distances. When I landed on my knees, I suddenly found myself in the middle of several guys who had gathered around the stage. Some guy I didn’t recognize reached out and squeezed my breast as hard as he could! Ouch! Another placed his hand on my rear. Two more grabbed my feet. I felt them touch my feet before, but now they actually grabbed them and held me fast. Imagine the horror I felt!I wanted to shake them all off, but I couldn’t move until my erection subsided – unfortunately, it grew with their touches. I tried speaking but nothing came out. I could only pretend to enjoy their touches until I could free myself, which I couldn’t do until my penis shrank! As the seconds passed, I wished I could chop off my penis! I tried to slap the man’s hand from my breast. He giggled and continued tracing my sissy tan lines which I’d gotten from mowing the lawn in a bikini. I felt the guys at my feet run their hands between my sandals and my soles. That tickled. The guy with his hand on my rear was slowly working his way under my g-string. I had to do something! Too late. My eyes must have gotten so huge with surprise as his finger entered my rear! My lunge forward certainly scared the guy with his hand on my breast. They all jumped back.With all their hands suddenly off me, I managed to crawl to the back of the stage. There, away from their hands, I acted like a woman masturbating until I could calm down and my erection subsided. Only then did I manage to cram it back into the g-string. Then I rose and took someone’s hand to help me get off the stage. It was my old friend Jason! He didn’t recognize me. In one fluid motion, I stepped from the stage to the floor and placed my legs around the man nearest me, one on each side of the man’s chair. I placed my hands on his shoulders to hold him in place as I began to gyrate my crotch on his. My breasts bounced in his face. He smiled and smiled.I snuck a quick look around. Although I was out from under the bright stage lights, I couldn’t see too much in my nervous state. There were roughly twenty guys gawking at me. I saw Master Howard operating a video camera – I could only imagine what use those tapes would have! Jason interrupted the rest of my observations.”You liked that didn’t you.” I didn’t know what he meant. “Come back later and I’ll do it for you again.””Ok, you sexy b**st.” I felt so stupid. I only wish I could somehow tell Jason that he was coming on to a man – without telling him which man of course! The humiliation would kill the macho jerk!I moved on to the next guy. This was another friend of mine, Jack the accountant. I’m pretty sure this was his first time seeing a stripper. I guess there’s something ironic in that too. As I gyrated, I felt his penis rise up and rub up against me. Time to move on!Next I came to some guy I didn’t know and then another. One of these guys had grabbed my shoe before! Then I came to someone who looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him. He was the guy who had grabbed my breast! As I did my dance on his lap, I made the mistake of leaning back and stretching my arms up in the air. He grabbed my breast in his mouth with my nipple between his teeth! The pain was amazing, but exquisite. I pushed and pushed to free myself. I felt my penis growing again. I had to get out of there.Fortunately, one of the other men pulled him off me. I returned to the stage, where my erection subsided again. I did a few more steps and then took my bow. After that, I ran as quickly as I could to the ladiesroom to wait for Richard, my breasts bounced up and down the entire way.Richard finally arrived a couple hours later. He found me shivering. I’d been standing in the ladiesroom wearing only my shoes and g-stings. I was freezing! Plus I desperately wanted to cover my breasts. That place was all mirrors and they were mocking me. Richard offered me his jacket and drove me home. The guys kept my costume parts.Master Howard drove recklessly on the trip home. I prayed he would slow down. I was unfamiliar with most of these roads and I didn’t want a cop pulling us over – again. This time I would probably be picked up for prostitution! When we got home, Mistress sent me to bed and watched the tape. I cried all night at the humiliation.The next night was the Bachelorette party. This happened at the same place. As I waited in the mensroom this time, I started to wonder why I would be asked to perform for a bunch of women? Wouldn’t they prefer someone more like Richard? Someone with a real penis? Or had Mistress found a group of lesbians? What was she up to?I heard the knock on the door which was my cue. No time left to think. As I left the bathroom I heard loud cheering come from the women. I couldn’t see them because of the lights. As I neared, the cheering dropped off until all I heard was the music! I knew this was a mistake.I climbed on stage and began my dance. No one rushed the stage, no one cheered. They all just sat there. I heard the occasional odd statement, but none of them sounded like cat calls. “I can’t believe it! Who is Stephanie trying to k**?” and so on.Finally, I reached the point where I tossed my bra into the audience. There was a loud collective gasp. Something wasn’t right. Suddenly, the lights came on. I guess my act was over.Mistress stepped up on stage. She wore jeans, a sweater, and flats. I could see the faces in the crowd. They displayed a mixture of amusement and disgust. I recognized several. Miss Barbara was there – she looked amused. Jason’s wife, Jack’s wife, a couple of friends of Mistress’, and then several women I didn’t recognize were there too. A little over twenty in total. I assumed these were the wives of the bachelors.Mistress tried to quiet the ladies who began talking among themselves. One of them spoke up, “you really expect us to believe she is Paul, your husband?” I froze. I never expected that!”Yes, it is. Why would I lie to you about this? Please, ladies, quiet. I’ve explained it all to you. Now let me give you the proof.” Mistress turned to me. “Pauline, remove your g-strings.” I didn’t know what to do. Was she serious? “Now Pauline!” I obeyed. Moments later my little penis sprung to attention for all the women to see. Silence. Then applause. Then cheering.”Oh my God! That’s fantastic! That’s great!” and so on.”Please ladies, large noises and crowds scare little Pauline. Why don’t you all sit down and Pauline will come by one by one and each of you can examine him to your heart’s content!”For the next hour, they ushered me from one table to another, wearing only the platform heels, the stockings, the cop hat, and a pair of lace gloves that came with the outfit. Every women there felt my breasts and played with my penis. Every single one of them squeezed my nipples between her finger tips to see how sensitive I was. Miss Barbara squeezed my testicles so tightly I thought I was going to die! “Wouldn’t Todd just die if he knew!” she laughed as she yanked down hard on my scrotum. I fell to my knees in pain.When I finished my rounds, Mistress returned me to the stage as a display object for her lecture. Mistress went on and on about my breast size, my dress size, my shoe size, the fact that I could no longer wear flats, my submissiveness, my loss of strength, how helpful I was around the house, etc. One of the women asked if my penis still functioned, Mistress explained that it did and that I masturbated regularly (I guess I forgot to mention that). Then she ordered me to masturbate while standing there on stage. I did this in front of others for so long now that it no longer bothered me.As I stroked myself, the real purpose of the meeting began. One of the ladies asked, “You say you can do this to any man?””Yes. With ease. All we need is your help and time.””How long did it take to bring Paul to this state?””I’d rather not say that in front of Pauline. He has long since lost his sense of time and I’d rather not give it back to him. Likewise, please don’t mention news or politics or other current events to him.””Can we ask her some questions?””Certainly. Pauline, answer all the ladies’ questions but don’t stop playing with yourself.” Mistress sat down on the chair.”Pauline, hi I’m Rachel.”Mistress rose. “Uh, Rachel, please don’t treat Pauline like an equal. It will only confuse him and undercut the training.”Rachel got into the spirit quickly. “Pauline, tell me what day this is?” I couldn’t answer. “Well, try to guess. What is the year?” I guessed 1996, which brought a lot of conversation. Of course, no one told me if I was right or wrong. “Who is the President?” I didn’t know. “Who is the mayor?” I didn’t know. “Where is the new mini-mall?” I didn’t know. And so it went. With each admission, the ladies giggled at my deficiencies.You’d think that all of this would tip me off about the sinister plan Mistress was putting me through. Everything that was said should have told me that my new feminine status was not a result of things I did, but an ingenious plan created by Mistress. It should also have told me that things did not just naturally progress to this phase. But, to tell the truth, I was so busy masturbating and trying to do a good job of it, that I only half heard everything that was said. Plus they mixed it with lots of references to science and current events and other things I couldn’t follow. Later, the things I’d heard seemed to vanish into my imagination. Within a week, I’d forgotten most of them.”Doesn’t Richard object to Pauline’s presence?””No, not at all. Here, look at this picture. Richard actually finds Pauline quite adorable and is happy to have him around.” Mistress handed around the photo of me giving Master Howard a blow job the other night. She omitted the fact that it was posed. Once again, the crowd gasped.”So we can teach our ‘men’ a lesson and still get better men to keep us happy? I like the sound of this!” The whole group cheered. Just as their cheering reached a crescendo, my penis exploded. White fluid shot all over the stage. The women cheered again. Then they began chanting, “lick it up! Lick it up!” Mistress pointed to the floor. I did as ordered.When I finished cleaning the stage, licking up my own semen as well as the dirt tracked in from the soles of my shoes and the others before me, Mistress ordered me to return to the mensroom. As I walked away, my breasts and my semi-erect penis jiggling with each step, the ladies hooted and hollered. Mistress then ordered the lights turned down. “I have a tape that will be instrumental in our plans. Barbara, hit the play button will you.” Back in the bathroom, virtually naked, I cringed at what was going on outside. I recognized the music from the other night. Did they really plan to unleash my misfortune on their husbands? What would my role in this be?As I listened to the ladies laugh and plot against their husbands, I realized that I really didn’t care what happened to these men. Not after the way they treated me last night! Some of them deserved it! I listened at the door. “Oh, will you look at that! Jason stuck his finger his rear! Ha!” So that’s what he meant? I moved away from the door and stood looking in the mirror. My little penis looked like it belonged on a c***d. As the night dragged on, I found myself fingering my tan lines in the mirror as I stroked myself back to ejaculation. There’s no way I would lick this floor clean though!I’m going to skip ahead to the actual wedding. There wasn’t much to tell in the meantime. The ladies held lots of meetings but I wasn’t privy to any of them. Miss Barbara stepped up her teasing/torture campaign against me. And I was kept very busy making last minute preparations. One day she even m*****ed my rear end with a cucumber.The wedding took place in our backyard. The minister was a friend of Mistress’ boss’ wife. He specialized in non-wedding wedding type ceremonies. Everything went perfectly and everyone enjoyed the ceremony, especially the wives. I noticed lots of inside jokes being toss around by the women. The men were none the wiser. I frankly don’t think the men had any idea what was going to happen.When the guys saw me in my maid’s costume, serving drinks to all the guests, not one of them could resist hitting on me again. I carefully deflected each of their advances, except the breast biter. Mistress gave me special instructions for him. With his wife watching out of the corner of her eye, Mistress’ boss, a.k.a. the biter, casually slithered up to me, eyeing me. Without a word he ran his hand up my leg. My hand pulled his from my leg and placed it on my breasts. I felt my penis begin to grow underneath my skirt – I crossed my legs to protect that little secret. I reached over and kissed him on the cheek. “Are you flirting with me?””Well, I. . .” he seemed hesitant.I jerked the hook a little more. “I don’t mind.” His hand rubbed my breast. Then I whispered, “come with me.” His wife smiled as I took his hand and led him away.Slowly I led him up the stairs to the bathroom. He rubbed his hands up and down my legs as I climbed the stairs. In the bathroom, I flicked on a switch which turned on the camera. Then I dropped to my knees and acted for the camera. Apparently, he was the first slated for the “Reprogramming” as the women called it. I hope this blow job was worth it to him!When we returned to the wedding, I signaled Mistress that I’d done what she ordered. She smiled and blew me a kiss. Then she returned to the wedding. Her and Master Howard exchanged vows and everyone cheered – even my old friends like Jason and Jack. Master Howard promised to “serve and obey” by the way. Mistress promised to “honor and respect.” Finally, the guests turned to the food and the dancing.After the wedding, I found that my exposure brought new duties. I became a babysitter for any woman who wanted time off – each c***d, by the way, came dressed like a girl whether male or female. I also became a toy of distraction for any of the wives who wanted to dominate a man while they waited for the program to schedule their husband. The women could either come over and do as they wished with me – up to one hour a week each, or they could have me come to their house for three hours every other week to cook, clean, and do whatever else they wanted. It must mean something that, without exception, each woman liked to make me dress in her own clothing (no matter how ill-fitting) and then have me prance around her house as she watched. That’s kind of hard to explain, if an explanation is even needed.On Saturdays, Mistress insisted that each woman bring over all of her shoes for me to polish. I was literally faced with over three hundred pairs of shoes to polish each and every Saturday!A few days after the wedding, I got my first glimpse of the future most of these men faced. As I finished dusting the diningroom, Mistress called me to come out to the kitchen. There I saw Mistress, her boss, and his wife. Mistress’ boss wore a ladies raincoat. Beneath the coat, I saw he wore stockings and high heeled pumps. When he removed the raincoat I saw an ill-fitting maid’s costume like mine. He looked very precariously balanced on his high heeled shoes and distinctly embarrassed and uncomfortable in the rest of his finery. His hair had been died platinum blond and he wore heavy make up. Around his neck he wore a leash which his wife tugged continuously.When I entered the room, “Mildred” as he was now known was ordered to curtsey to me. Then his wife upped the stakes. “Now get on your knees sissy and give back what you took from Pauline!” He balked, but she pulled out the pictures of me giving him a blow job in our bathroom. “I’m sure the boys at the office will like to see these!”He shot her a nasty look. “What do I care? I can’t go back to the office looking like this any ways!”His wife yanked the chain and he fell to his knees, gasping for air. “If you don’t do as I say, you will go back to the office looking exactly like that! Now get with it!”I saw tears form up in his eyes. I could tell the humiliation was killing him. Good! I braced myself and slowly raised my skirt – exposing my panties. He fumbled with my panties. Eventually my little penis popped out. He gulped hard, closed his eyes and then dove in. It felt really strange to have anyone sucking on my penis! I don’t think this had ever happened in my life. This was certainly not how I pictured this happening when I was young. Of course, I didn’t expect two women to stand by snapping pictures of the event either! Finally, I shot my load into his mouth. He made the mistake of spitting it out – right onto my foot!”How dare you! Now get down there and lick Pauline’s foot and shoe clean!””I won’t!”Yank. “You will!” He did.One by one, the men from the wedding came by for repeat performances, only in different types of feminine dress. I could see that without exception, each of these jerks was doomed to a life of servitude to their wives. I especially liked watching Jason and Jack suffer! Jason wore a cheerleader’s outfit and the most outrageous heels I’d ever seen. Jack wore a more conservative evening gown and lower heels than the rest – his wife displayed a rather boring sense of fashion. Of course, I wasn’t too unhappy that any of these jerks fell into the trap I’d fallen into.Little did I know it then, but I was to play a large role in each of these men’s subjugation! A very willing role. But that’s another story.With all the changes taking place among the men, Mistress soon took over her boss’ company. This made her boss of Master Howard and several others of the men. She reassigned them all to a special office called the “New Dawn Office.” One by one, they began their transformations and vanished from the real world.Mistress began changing Master Howard the day after the wedding. Only a few minutes after the honeymoon entertainment ended, Mistress berated him right in front of me. That was the first time I ever saw him insulted in front of me that I could remember. That night she made him wear high heels as punishment. The next day he wore a dress. He seemed defeated. How could she control him so easily?As the weeks wore on, Master Howard found himself dressed like a woman more and more. Soon Mistress was ordering him around and treating him worse than she treated me! He seemed helpless to resist! This brought Master Howard to my arms – figuratively.”Ya know Pauline, we need to do something.” I could tell he was only talking. Somehow she’d broken his will. He willingly did anything she commanded and he like it.”What should we do Missy?” Mistress ordered me to call him “Missy” from now on. It felt strange having someone be my equal or inferior. I liked it.”I don’t know. But we need to stop her.” Missy tugged on his skirt.”Why don’t you just leave?””I can’t. She made me sign over all my belongings to her as a display of affection. She sold my house, she owns my car. She’s my boss. I’d be broke in a day or two. She even keeps my driver’s license and my credit cards in her purse.” Ha! Now he knew what it felt like.”Why did you agree to that?””I don’t know. I just did. I just signed without thinking. I told myself no, but I did it anyway.” He started crying again. He was like a faucet.As the weeks progressed, Missy became more and more the reality and Richard slowly disappeared into the past. It seemed to occur much faster with him than it took with me. I wondered how that could be?At this point, I really wanted my freedom. I had come to like being Pauline, but I was miserable being a servant. If I didn’t regain my freedom now I never would. But how could I escape? One day Mistress showed me the way!”Here, take these to my closet and store them on the shelf.” Mistress handed me a small box. Usually I would comply without a second thought, but lately I’d become much more curious. I needed to be if I was going to find something to help me escape.In Mistress’ bedroom I opened the box. Inside I found several hypodermic needles and several bottles. I read the first label, “Estrogen.” Hmm. I read the description on the back. She was giving these guys hormones! Did that make the changes so much quicker? I doubted that. The bottle didn’t say anything about breaking someone’s will. I looked at the next one. I couldn’t pronounce it, but reading the back it seemed to be some sort of mind control d**g. That explained everything! That’s how they managed to control these other men so easily and turn them into women so quickly and so effortlessly! It did seem to me that Missy and the others I’d met became too submissive too quickly. Missy never even put up a fight like I did!Now I knew what Mistress was doing. So what could I do to escape? I could take this box to the police and have Mistress arrested. I’m sure there’s some law against d**gging men and turning them into women. If not, there sure should be. But of course, I’d need more proof. She could just claim that the d**gs belonged to me. With my reduced mental capacity, I wouldn’t be much of a match for her in court. Ok, the cops are out. Maybe I could destroy the d**gs? No, that would only slow her and it wouldn’t achieve anything except making her angry.Then it hit me! I took the box up to my bedroom. It was now or never. The rest of my life came down to the next few minutes. If I failed, I would take any punishment she gave me and I would accept it.I loaded up a hypodermic needle with the mind control d**g according to the dosage on the back and headed downstairs. Mistress sat on the couch reading a magazine. She wore her silverish business suit with the slacks and black flats. Nervously I picked up my duster, hiding the needle in my apron. I moved over to the corner and pushed on the television cabinet. I took a breath. It was time. “Mistress, could you please help me move the television? It’s too heavy for me.”She looked up at me and let out a slight laugh. She rose to her feet and came to where I stood. As she bent over to get a good grip on the television, I rammed the needle into her rear. She shot up and turned around. Then her eyes glazed over. I had her now. Now where was Missy!As I sat in my office looking out the window, Missy my secretary buzzed me that Alees Smith was here to see me. Her husband was next to be transformed. Missy showed her in and we shook hands. We both watched Missy wobble off in her four inch heels and miniskirt. I saw her little penis sticking up beneath her suede skirt, a pale imitation of the one I’d sucked on. “Hi Alees, how are you?””I’m fine honey.” We met in the middle of room and kissed each other on the cheeks. “I got the bank check for you. When can you start on Jimmy?””We can start tomorrow. Let me go over some details with you.” I walked over to my desk. Alees watched my shapely rear – my true sex was no secret to these women – Alees touched my breasts and my penis that night at the restaurant. I felt her eyes follow my long skirt down my sexy legs to my sling back two inch pumps. I dressed like a professional now, not a hooker.”Are your breasts still growing?””No, they stopped.””Can I ask how big they became?”I removed my jacket so that she could see them through my white silky blouse. “I wear a C-cup, but that’s a little bit too big for me.” I picked up the thick book and walked over to the couch where Alees sat. I sat down next to her, smoothing my skirt out with my well-manicured hand. “I just want to go over the choices we have for you.” I flipped through the pages of transformed men. “Since we stopped using the mind d**gs, it will take longer to get the best results. But as you can see, the results are much more natural.”Alees placed her hand on my arm and giggled. “I’m so glad you took over from Stephanie. She seemed so cold and full of hate those last few days. That’s why I waited so long to do this. I love my Jimmy, I just want him brought down a notch. I didn’t want him made into some mindless ultra- feminine sex toy like Stephanie did to Jack and Jerry. I mean, I guess their wives wanted that, but I didn’t want that for Jimmy.””I understand dear. Can I get you some coffee?”As we drank coffee and chatted about the future of yet another man, I wondered at the world around us. Very few people knew what services we provided in addition to temporary personnel and accounting services, but word was spreading. Our clientele was loyal and rich and always satisfied. Sure we did some things you could call un-ethical, but everyone was better off. Our clients got peace of mind, freedom, and control over their own lives. Their husbands learned how to relate to their wives and were relieved of the heavy responsibilities that money and work can put on a man. So in some ways, we sold them freedom too.Stephanie, or “Sissy” as we now call her, got her comeuppance in the end. Over time the mind control d**gs broke her will much more effectively than I’d figured. Now she did as I ordered without question. For the past two years I isolated her from the world, much as she isolated me for the past THREE years!!! By now she is so unknowledgeable that it’s hardly worth talking to her. Not that it matters much anyway, because her submissive personality makes normal conversation impossible. At times though, I can still see a fire of resistance in her eyes. I stripped her of her money, her position, her job and her name. In exchange, I gave her identical shoes to those I wore to the strip shows and the same maid’s costume I wore for my duties. As I sat speaking with Alees, I knew Sissy was at home mowing the lawn in a bikini – showing off her huge breasts to the boys. It’s amazing what breast implants can do. Some day I might let her return to a more normal lifestyle, or maybe not.After Alees finalized her plans for unsuspecting Jimmy, I called Mildred up from the mail room. Mildred goes from office to office in the sexist clothing I will let her wear (you should have seen what her wife wanted her to wear! I had to put a stop to that! We can’t run our business like a brothel after all!). I’m told she’s given blow jobs to almost every man in the company. That’s certainly a different position than she had as boss and owner. But her wife still loves her, as does her wife’s new lover.”Take these forms down to the New Dawn Office and tell them to get on it right away.” Mildred curtseyed to me as she scampered off in her platform heels and tight shorts. I called to Missy, “Missy, let’s call it a night. I need to meet Barbara and Tracy (formerly Master Todd). Now that Barbara finished college and Tracy dropped out to become a nail technician, they decided to get married. We’re going shopping for matching wedding dresses for them.” It is a good life now.Oh, and one last thing: Bill Clinton and the Denver Broncos.The End

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