The Surprise Vacation



The Surprise Vacation


by an unknown author and Tristmegistus

1. Chapter - Innocent Beginnings

"Did you take your vitamin, dear?" Ellen called from the bathroom.

I rubbed sl**p from my eyes and picked up the pill bottle, rolling a big
tablet into my palm. "My horse pill? I'm doing it now."

"Have you noticed any difference yet?"

"Nah. Vitamins are pretty much all alike." She'd gone on a minor health
kick a month before, insisting that I needed to lose a little weight and
take better care of myself. I hadn't actually made it to the gym to work
out like she was though.

"Where's my underwear honey?" I asked my wife, poking through my almost
empty drawer. It was Saturday morning. I had noticed that my underwear
had been disappearing from my drawer over the last couple of weeks. I
thought nothing of it, figuring that she'd simply been too busy to do
laundry.

"Something went wrong with the washing machine and it ruined everything
in the last load," she said.

"Well, what am I going to wear?"

She emerged from the bathroom, dipped into her side of the dresser.
"Here, put these on," she smiled, handing me a pair of her pink satin
panties. "Now don't give me any fake macho bullshit. I know you love
wearing my panties. In fact, I know you've secretly worn this very pair
before."

I looked at her dumfounded. I thought that I'd successfully hidden my
fetish from her. I'd been so careful.

"C'mon, let's put these on you,"she teased. I was beet red as I numbly
stepped into them and let her pull them up to my hips. She stroked my cock
through the fabric, a lot like I often did. "Mmmm, I see that someone
finds this exiting. We may have to keep it like that." I wasn't sure what
she meant by that remark, but was too embarrassed to ask. I hurriedly put
the rest of my clothes on, jeans and a T-shirt. She gave me a slightly
disapproving look and said, "Well, I need take you shopping and get some
new underwear for you, among other things."

I said, "Can't you just pick up some for me? I want to look at that
washing machine and watch the football game."

Since she absolutely despises football, this would normally have set her
off on a tirade, but surprisingly, she just smiled sweetly and said, "Don't
worry about the washer. I fixed it myself. Go ahead and enjoy your
football honey. I'll get everything you need."

So while she was shopping, I lay on the couch stroking myself through
the panties, embarrassed that my wife knew of my fetish, but relieved that
she seemed so low key about it. The game turned out to be pretty boring
and I thought about raiding her closet for something else to wear, but now
that she knew, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I ended up
taking a nap. I woke up when she came home, loaded with bags from various
stores. I started to get up to help.

"Just stay there, I'll put everything away. What do you say that we go
out for dinner?"

"That sounds like a good idea."

"Great. But first, I have a surprise for you. Stand up and close your
eyes." I remembered that teasing look, that flirtatious tone. We hadn't
played sex games in a long time. In fact, we hadn't done anything sexual
in a long time. With a smile, I stood and did as she asked. The next
thing I knew, she pulled my hands behind my back and locked them with a
pair of handcuffs!

"What's this all about?"

"No comments from the peanut gallery," she said as she put some sort of
gag in my mouth.

Whatever it was filled up my whole mouth, all the way to the top of my
throat! As I explored it with my tongue, I realized that it was a penis
gag. What was going on?

"Now come along peacefully, or I'll have to take further steps." With
that I followed her into the bathroom. She took my hands and tied a strap
to them and pulled it up to the shower curtain, forcing me to bend over at
the waist. She then took a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut my
clothes off, ruining jeans I could have just stepped out of. It was all
pretty kinky, even for Ellen's sometimes bizarre moods, but except for the
embarrassment of having something shaped like a penis in my mouth, it
seemed harmless.

"You won't be needing those anymore," she said, tossing the rags that
had been my jeans and tee-shirt down the laundry chute.

She then took some shaving cream and a razor and proceeded to shave
every bit of hair below my eyebrows. I definitely didn't like the turn
things were taking, but fighting her while she stroked my most private
parts didn't seem like a good idea - and there wasn't a whole lot I

could do about it, anyway.

"I think that since you like wearing panties so much, you should have
the experience of everything else that goes along with it," she explained
as she worked over my underarms. "You'll find that all of your old clothes
have been replaced with something more suitable for your new station. I
think that about does it. Step in the shower and let's rinse you off."

There was nothing I could do except slide the strap down the bar and
step under the water. I was bewildered. Surely she hadn't really thrown
out all my clothes! As she rinsed all of the hairy soap off of my body, my
skin felt strange, tingly and oddly alive. She spent more time on my
weirdly naked penis, making it swell again. She patted me dry all over
with a big, soft towel and spread skin conditioner all over me, dwelling on
my semi-hard penis.

"Well that looks much better, but we'll have to do something about your
figure. That waistline will never do. You haven't been losing enough
weight, darling. Follow me and we'll take care of it."

As we walked into the bedroom, I saw some clothes laid out on the bed.
There was a corset, panties, stockings, and a short dress. She began to
put the corset on me, and said, "Your arms are in the way." With that, she
reached into one of the bags and pulled out a leather collar. She then put
some leather cuffs on my wrists, unlocked the metal ones, and quickly
hooked my hands behind my head to the collar.

This was starting to get too weird. Our sex games had died out a year
or so before. I'd known she was curious about bondage and stuff, but had
laid down the law and said no. I tried to talk around the thing in my
mouth, but she ignored me. I was able to offer only token

resistance as my arms were asl**p and numb from being pulled up and back
for so long. Next, she started hooking up the corset and pulling the laces
in behind me. Soon I couldn't breathe and still she was tightening the
laces.

"Is that uncomfortable? Too bad. It'll give you incentive to lose that
extra weight you've been ignoring, won't it?" With a final savage jerk, she
finished adjusting the laces with a full knot. "I think you'll have an
interesting time trying to untie that by yourself."

I silently agreed. It was more like being in a straight jacket than
lingerie. But there was an illicit thrill to it, despite my deepening
worry that she was going way too far with her fun.

"Now let's put some panties on you. Which pair would you like? You
don't care? That's no way for a lady to show interest in her appearance. I
guess we'll try this new pair of pink satin ones I bought you. Now you
don't have to steal mine, love. Oh, my! You really look cute in them."

Next came a set of latex breast forms which she teasingly placed in the
corset's half cups to fill out my chest. After that she rolled some
stockings up each leg, hooked them to the garters on the corset, and
smoothed them out. She quickly admired her work while I tried not to, too
embarrassed for words, even if the gag hadn't been in my mouth.

"Let's see how this dress I picked out for you fits." With that she
picked up a shimmery peach colored dress and worked it over the tangle of
my head and arms. As it fell over my breasts and hips it came down to only
mid-thigh.

She looked at me with a grin on her face and said, "Don't you look
adorable! You'll have to be very careful and ladylike when you sit or bend
over or the world will see your garters and panties. Only a slut would act
like that. If you act like a slut, I'll have to treat you like one."

What did she mean by 'the world will see you?' I didn't like the
implications in that statement.

"Step into these shoes," she said with the air of command, as she placed
a pair of matching peach shoes with about a 3-1/2 in heel on the floor.

I'd rarely dared to play with her high heels. They were a little too
tight, but the real reason I usually avoided them was because they awoke in
me a shame powerful enough to counterbalance the excitement of cross
dressing. I found it was tremendously difficult to keep my balance with my
hands fastened behind my neck.

"Now it's time for your makeup. I'm going to remove the gag, but I
don't want to hear a single word or I'll put it back in and leave it there
for a whole day." Ellen gave me a look that indicated she clearly meant it.

Well, I figured, we've gone this far, so why fight it. Besides,
cosmetics were another thing I'd never had the guts to try, and I'd often
fantasized about how I'd look. She spent the next thirty minutes
completing my makeup, going through foundation, eyeshadow, eyeliner, and
mascara, adding a light blush, and finishing with a bright, deep rose
lipstick. She topped it off with a light brown shoulder length wig.

"Now you can look at yourself," she said as she led me to a mirror.

I couldn't believe it! A beautiful girl looked back at me. If she was
alone in a bar, every guy in there would hit on her. The dress had a
scooped front almost to my breast forms, which were ample. It also showed
a very flattering figure. No wonder I couldn't breathe. Looking at the
reflection in the mirror, the hemline seemed even shorter, at least six
inches above my knees.

I heard a soft "click." I turned around, and my wife was taking pictures
of me!

"You can't admire yourself all day, sweetie. We've got a busy afternoon
and evening ahead of us."

My heart sank. She was really going to f***e me to go out dressed like
this! I started to speak, wanting to talk her out of it, but she picked up
the cock-shaped gag and moved ominously toward me. I shut up. With that,
my wife changed into a plain dress and fluffed her hair, not even bothering
to use any makeup on herself, which was unusual. She noted my confusion
and said, "I don't want to steal any of the attention you deserve, honey."

She clipped a leash to my collar and led me to the garage. As she
opened the passenger door, I began to fight her. "Honey what are you
trying to -"

She pushed me off balance, which wasn't hard, and stuffed the gag back
in my mouth, immediately strapped it behind my head. "I warned you! Now
you'll have to pay the price for disobedience!" She pushed me again and I
fell into the passenger seat. She buckled the seat belt.

Bound as I was, with my hands behind my head, there was no way I could
do anything but go along.

As she drove us away, she said, "I know you're dying of curiosity,
sweetie, wondering what this is all about. It's simple really. I noticed
about six months ago that my clothes and lingerie had been rearranged
almost every time you're home and I'm not. I started carefully marking my
hangers and drawers to confirm my suspicions, and I can name every time you
snuck into something sexy and even tell you what you wore. Really, I don't
mind, honey. In fact, it really turns me on. So I'm going to make sure
that you live your fantasy to the fullest. It's really perfect, because MY
fantasy is to dominate my husband completely and I'm going to act that out,
too."

I couldn't believe it! She must have caught on almost the very first
time I gave in to the impulse to see if silky feminine clothes felt as
wonderful as they looked. Well, the first time since I was a k**, anyway.

"I've arranged for you to take a two week surprise vacation starting
Monday. Your boss thinks that we're going on a cruise." She giggled. "In
a way, we are, aren't we? For the next two weeks, you're going to live
entirely as a female and follow my every command. If you give me

any shit at all, I'll send those pictures of you admiring yourself to
your boss and secretary. I think they'd get a good laugh from them, don't
you? To get you ready for our little adventure, we're going to the mall to
do some shopping for your vacation."

I kept hoping it was all a joke. That any moment she'd turn the car
around, laughing at how she'd scared me, and we'd play for a while in bed,
then it'd be over. But my guts were cold. I couldn't talk myself into
believing it'd happen that way. I knew she was dead serious. As we pulled
into the mall parking lot she said, "In case you're having any thoughts
about running away, remember that you don't have any car keys, wallet or
money. If you don't do exactly as I say, I'll leave you here to get back
on your own."

She was right! Trying to get home without her, dressed like this,
wasn't an option. I couldn't even think of hitchhiking. Cold sweat popped
out on my brow as I realized that I was stuck. I had to do what she said.
I didn't even want to think of what her plans were.

2. Chapter - The Mall

I was terrified. There I was, tied into my car seat, dressed as a woman
from high heels to wig, with my wrists handcuffed to a leather collar
around my neck, for all the world to see. And my wife had driven me to the
shopping mall to shop for clothes to complete my wardrobe. I wanted to cry
out in frustration and terror, but there was a penis-shaped gag buried in
my throat. The excitement I'd felt at home was long gone.

After she stopped the car in the parking lot, she turned to me and
unlocked the collar, cuffs, and removed the gag from my mouth. "Now, can I
trust you to behave in here, or will I have to really embarrass you? And
by behave I mean do everything I say without question."

With a numb feeling in my stomach I said, "Yes honey, I'll be good."

"Wonderful! I know we're going to have a marvelous time."

With that, she made me fix the lipstick the gag had smeared, and showed
me how to powder my sweaty forehead. We got out of the car and walked into
the mall. The heels caused my hips to sway noticeably. I did my best to
minimize it.

She looked at me with a grin and said, "My, aren't we calling attention
to ourselves!" and laughed merrily. "Our first stop is at the beauty
parlor. We don't have that much time, so today we'll just touch up your
makeup and do your nails. Your hair can wait until tomorrow. I've already
made an appointment for you."

The voyage through the crowded mall was tremendously humiliating. I
kept waiting for someone to recognize me, or see through the disguise my
wife had applied and sneer at a man in a short dress and makeup. It was
almost a relief to near the beauty shop. While I didn't draw any

of the disgusted looks I was afraid of, I got way too much attention,
and the appreciative smiles were almost worse than mockery would have been.

We walked into the parlor, and she talked to the receptionist. "Hello.
I called earlier for a 'special appointment' for Sheila."

A pretty brunette overheard and approached. "Hi! I'm Cindy and
everything is ready. Follow me please." She led us past the filled
stations into a back room. "Please have a seat here." I looked at the
chair and then my wife with some misgivings.

"SIT DOWN! You heard what the lady said!" my wife commanded and shoved
me into the chair. Before I could recover, she pulled two velcro lined
straps out of her purse and quickly strapped my arms to the armrests,
rendering me completely helpless. "Now sit there quietly, or I'll have to
take further steps."

The stylist was trying, though not very hard, to cover a big smirk on
her face.

"Go ahead and start on her. I don't think she'll give you any trouble.
How long do you think this will take?"

"For everything you asked for, about an hour and a half."

"Good, I'll be back then. I've got some shopping to do. If she gives
you any trouble, feel free to take whatever action you think is
appropriate." She then walked out of the store, leaving me alone with the
stylist.

"You aren't going to make any trouble, are you?" she teased.

I shook my head no, not trusting my voice. Sounding like a man would've
been too embarrassing, and I'd feel like a fool if I tried a false woman's
voice.

"Too bad. I think I'd enjoy disciplining and humiliating you. You're
obviously into it. Maybe I should see if my boyfriend would look as good
as you do dressed up."

That definitely made me decide not to resist - as if I could have
anyway. I did my best to ignore her flattery, too. The last thing I wanted
to do was look too much like a woman.

"Debbie here is going to do your nails, and I'll be giving you a light
makeover. Your lady friend made a separate appointment for your hair for
tomorrow." She turned her attention to my face and began working me over as
Debbie began my nails.

Sixty minutes later, she was still working on my face, and Debbie had
mockingly told me to remove my hose so she could do my toenails. The bands
around my wrists made that impossible, of course, and I cringed as the girl
touched me and did it herself. I kept my eyes closed, unable to face the
changes being made to me. The worst part was having my eyebrows plucked
into shape. How could I hide that when the "vacation" was over?

"This is a 'light' makeover?" I wondered to Cindy in a safe whisper,
trying to joke. "How long does it take for a complete job?" I really
didn't want to know.

At that moment my wife walked in with a shopping bag. "How are we
coming? Oh, she looks just darling!" she said as she grinned at me. She
then bent over and admired my bright red toenails. Confirming that Debbie
was finished, she rolled my hose part way up and began digging

through a huge shopping bag.

"What are you doing, honey?" I asked in a meek, gender neutral voice.

"Oh, I didn't think that those shoes were flattering enough, so I
dropped into the Wild Pair to find you something prettier. I know you're
just dying to wear them, but with that corset on I don't imagine you can
bend over far enough to strap them on."

That was an understatement! While I'd gotten used to taking shallow
breaths in the corset, there was no way I could bend that far down. I
couldn't see what the shoes looked like from the angle I was sitting in the
chair, but I could tell they had a much higher heel than the other set.

"There!" Cindy announced proudly. "That about finishes you. How are
you coming, Debbie?"

"Just a few minutes to let the last coat dry." After about five very
uncomfortable minutes of listening to girl talk, she said, "That about does
it. Let's stand up and have a look at you."

My wife then removed the velcro straps, freeing me from the chair. I
stood up and almost fell. I looked down at my shoes. They were a pair of
cream ankle straps with at least a five inch heel. I could barely stand in
them. It was amazing what a difference an inch and a half made. I then
looked in the mirror, for the first time, and almost didn't recognize
myself. The person standing there was a short, truly beautiful, entirely
feminine woman staring back at me with wide,

shocked, expertly made up eyes! Her skin looked perfectly smooth and
her lips were strikingly highlighted. I reflexively raised my hands to my
face, not believing what I was seeing, and then noticed my nails. One full
inch long and a deep liquid red - exactly the color of my skillfully
painted lips and toes.

My wife smiled approvingly at me and said, "Don't they look lovely,
Sheila?"

"Y ... Yes," I stammered, too shocked to lie. "They're beautiful. I
can't believe it!"

As she paid Cindy and we turned to go, she said, "By the way, I asked
her to use a permanent set on the nails. You won't be able to remove
them."

I looked down at my hands in shock. How could you hide nails like that?
What would I do at the end of the two weeks? I knew enough about it to
realize that even if I cut them off, they'd be unnaturally thick.

"Let's go, Sheila, we've got plenty still to do. Now it's time for some
clothes shopping. With a gorgeous bod and sexy face like you have, we have
to get you some 'hot' outfits to match."

I slowly emerged from my state of shock, and wished I hadn't. I was
drawing even more attention now. The way men were staring at me left no
doubt as to their thoughts. I stayed as close to Ellen as I could as she
slowly toured store fronts.

Our first stop was "The Body Shop." My wife had me try on countless
outfits in the dressing room. It was sheer torture, climbing into and out
of one revealing outfit after another. I was horrified of being recognized
and arrested for this perversion. She ended up picking out a short black
leather skirt with matching bustier, and a white satin minidress with a
deeply scooped neckline. Then she made me pay for the items with my
American Express Card - with my real name on it! The sales clerk gave me a
shocked look and then a big smirk. My face turned beet red from
embarrassment. My slim hand shook as I tried to grip the pen and sign the
sales slip with my too long nails.

We went from store to store for about two more endless hours. I must
have tried on forty outfits and purchased at least a dozen. My ribs were
killing me from the constant pressure of the corset and my feet ached from
walking and standing in those incredible heels.

"Here we go. One last stop," my wife said as we turned into another
boutique. "Why don't you have a seat for a couple of minutes."

She didn't have to tell me twice. I was exhausted. I sat in the chair
she indicated, relieved to get a load off of my feet. I carefully smoothed
my hemline as I sat down (I'd learned this lesson the hard way through some
embarrassing comments and looks from other shoppers). I was so tired, I
didn't know what store I was in, and really didn't care. I let my eyes
close.

One of the clerks came up behind me and said, "Just sit still now."
There was a sudden, intense burning sensation in my right ear. My eyes
leapt open, and I tried to get up. She held my head firmly with one hand
and said, "Just a few seconds. Hold still." The sharp pain was

repeated in the other ear. She then rubbed both with some alcohol and
fiddled with each ear for a few seconds. "There, that does it. You can
get up now."

I stood up and looked in the mirror. She had pierced my ears and placed
a little gold ball in each of them! What would I do at the at the end of
two weeks? Those holes in my ears were going to take a long time to heal
over.

"Okay, that finishes us here. It's time for us to go home and get ready
to go out tonight."

With that, we walked back towards the car - slowly, because I was f***ed
to take such mincing steps in the tall shoes.

As we got into the car I turned and said, "Honey, this is ridiculous.
Look at my hands! I can't -"

She slapped me hard on the cheek, staggering me. She immediately pulled
out a pair of handcuffs, put them on me, and secured them behind me to the
headrest, making me completely helpless.

"I can see that you need a lesson to show you that I mean business.
When I'm finished with you, you're going to beg me to dress you up, take
you out, and make you look as pretty and sexy as possible! We both know
that you've secretly dreamed about this. Well it's happening and there's
not a damned thing you can do to stop it! The sooner you realize that
you're no longer in control of what happens to you, the happier you'll be!"

"But honey," I whined, "don't you think that this's a little -"

She rammed the gag back in my mouth. "What were you saying dear? I
didn't catch it? Oh well, I guess it wasn't very important."

We pulled away from the mall with me helpless in the passenger seat,
thankful that the tinted windows offered me a little protection from casual
observation.

As I began to look around me I realized that this was not the way home.
Where was she taking me now?

She noticed me squirming and looking around and said, "Don't know where
we're going? Well, as much as you deserve to be humiliated more in public,
that'll have to wait. I just have to pick something up."

My relief quickly turned to chagrin as we stopped and I looked at where
we were. It was a shop entitled "Exotic Leather Goods."

"I need to grab a few things to ensure that you learn your lesson
properly. Don't do anything naughty while I'm gone."

So there I was, tied into the passenger seat for any passers by to see,
trapped in a feminine appearance and clothing with an artificial penis
filling my mouth. Now that we'd stopped, the tinted windows weren't nearly
dark enough.

Suddenly, I saw a man approaching, walking towards the car. He was
casually looking at each of them as he passed by. Would he notice me
through the window? My heart was racing a mile a minute. Just as it
looked as if he would pass right by, he stopped and did a double take. HE
SAW ME! He stood there looking in the window for at least a full minute
with a big grin on his face while I tried to become invisible. Just about
that time my wife came up to the car with a bag in her hand.

"Enjoying the view?" she casually asked the man.

"Sure am, honey," he replied with a leer. "Do you always keep her tied
up like that?" He thought I was a real woman!

"She prefers it that way," my wife laughed. "She's my display model.
Feel free to look all you want, but don't touch."

The man kept up his lewd stare while Ellen loaded her purchases. He
waved gaily, still laughing, as he walked away. With that she got in
started the car. As she drove us home, she said, "I was planning to take
you out for a nice dinner and dancing tonight, but you obviously

don't deserve a reward like that yet. So, instead I'm going to teach
you a lesson in obedience. When I'm through with you, you'll beg me to
dress you up in sexy outfits so you can show off."

b*****r, was I in trouble. I was afraid to even think of what my
"lesson" would be. I was sure that it would not be pleasant, but I knew
there was no way she could make good on her promise that I'd want her to
expose me publicly.

Finally, we pulled into the garage. My wife leaned over and connected
my wrist cuffs to the collar. After that she disconnected my hands from
the headrest, giving me no chance to get free. She then reached into her
big purse, pulled out a leash, and connected it to the collar. Getting her
bag, my wife got out of the car and came around to my door. I still could
not move because I was strapped in by the seat belt. She unhooked it and
gave a tug on the leash.

"Come along now, Sheila," she ordered as we walked into the house. We
stopped in the kitchen.

"The first thing we need to work on is this tendency of yours to talk
back and question everything I say. After all, I can't keep that gag in
your mouth all the time. Unless, of course, you like the feel of something
shaped like a cock in your throat."

I shook my head violently.

"Well then, you need to show me that you can behave. Believe me, I hate
keeping that beautiful mouth of yours gagged all the time. There are so
many better uses for it."

Having said that she pulled what looked like a leather sleeve with some
laces running down the length out of the bag of things she'd just bought.
She then walked out of the room for a few seconds and returned with several
pieces of rope. She unlocked the wrist cuffs and had me

put my hands behind my back. She then secured them with the hands
facing.

Next, she picked up the sleeve and slid it up my arms, securing it with
some straps in front of my shoulder, guaranteeing that it would not come
off. Then she began tightening the laces, straightening my arms and
pulling my elbows together until they were about four inches apart.

It hurt like hell and f***ed me to pull my shoulders back and arch my
back to accommodate the position of my arms. My arms and shoulders began
to ache almost immediately.

"My, aren't you the brazen little slut!" she laughed as she looked at
me. I had to admit that the way my back was arched did throw out my chest,
emphasizing my big breasts. Next, she took a long length of rope, tied it
to a ring on the sleeve below my hands and ran it to a hook in the ceiling.
That ring! She'd had me put that in the ceiling last week to hold a heavy
planter. How long had she been planning this? A tug on the rope brought
me back to the present. As she pulled on the rope, it f***ed me to bend at
the waist while she pulled my arms towards the ceiling. Tying the rope off
onto a doorknob, she commented, "There, that should keep you. Comfy?"

Hardly! I was still in those ridiculous heels and this position f***ed
all of my weight onto my toes, which were already in agony. Adding to
this, the bent over position made the corset so tight that I was gasping
for breath in tiny pants. I felt like I was going to pass out.

The next thing I knew she was pulling my dress up over my waist,
exposing my pantied bottom. Then she pulled the panties down around my
ankles.

"Are you ready for your first punishment?"

I had no way to say no, of course.

She fumbled around in the bag. When I looked, she had pulled out a
leather paddle. There was no doubt what her intended target was. Bound as
I was, there was also not a single thing that I could do about it.

SMACK! She connected right on my bare ass with a stinging blow. "I
think that fifty good ones is about right for talking back to your
mistress, don't you?"

SMACK! She continued. After about twenty, I lost all control and was
crying like a baby. Each stroke seemed to sting more than the one before
it. Finally, she reached fifty. My entire behind felt like it was on
fire. She then pulled the panties up and pulled my hem down again.

"That was just your first punishment. I told you that you would never
forget this lesson. I'll be back in a little while. I'm going to take a
shower and rest a bit. My arms are tired. Don't go anywhere."

Her arms were tired! At my ass and thigh's expense! I stood there,
miserably bent over, dreading the next punishment, and wondering what it
would be.

3. Chapter - Punishment

I'm sure my wife was gone no more than an hour, but it felt like days. I
was trapped there, standing on my cramping toes in those tall high heels,
bent forward at the waist, exposing my swat-inflamed, pink pantied rear
under the hem of my short peach dress. My eyes burned

from sweat and tear-dissolved makeup that'd run into them while she
spanked me with the heavy leather paddle. I could barely breathe because
of the way I was tied and tight corset cinching my waist into nothingness.
There was nothing for me to do but suffer and ruminate on my situation.

I was trapped by more than my agonizing posture. She'd taken pictures
of me and threatened to give them to my boss and secretary if I gave her
any trouble for the next two weeks of my surprise vacation. She'd made me
watch her drop them off at a fifty-minute photo place at the

mall, and I was positive she had the prints hidden somewhere I'd never
find them. All because I'd secretly tried on her panties and a few other
clothes a couple of times! Okay, to tell the truth, it was more than a
couple of times. Now, she was determined to turn me into Sheila, a sexy
little crossdresser who'd beg to be allowed to go out dancing so she could
be seen and admired!

A dizzy wave of pain made me start crying again. I suddenly stiffened.
What if that wasn't all she wanted to make me do? What if she was trying
to do more than show off my cute ass and pouty red mouth? She'd already
called me 'slut' a couple of times. What if she meant it?

I almost fainted. I had to end this before it went any further. She'd
promised me still more punishment, and I didn't think I could take any
more. Maybe, if I acted the way she wanted, she'd relent. More
importantly, if I cooperated, there was sure to be a chance to catch her
off guard and escape before any real damage was done.

By the time I finally heard the door open, I was in such total agony
that thinking of ways to escape my feminization was the last thing on my
mind. I'd have done anything simply to be allowed to stand up straight. I
was dizzy from the unending struggle to breathe. My legs

were cramped into fiery pillars of pain. I tried to sob out around the
penis gag what was supposed to be her name.

"Well, well," she drawled from behind me, "don't you look sexy! How's
that nice little ass feel now, Sheila? Still hot and pink as your
panties?"

I heard her walking across the vinyl floor until she was right behind
me. Between my quivering legs, I saw that she'd changed into some shoes I'd
never seen before. The black high heels must have been six inches tall and
were tipped with narrow metal spikes. Her ankles were

covered in black mesh hose. I jumped when I felt her hand on my ass,
then tried to stand very still for whatever she was going to do. She
petted me between my cheeks.

"Is it too tender, darling? Oh, dear. It's hard to answer me with that
nasty gag in your mouth, isn't it?"

I nodded frantically.

"Will you be a good girl if I take it out?"

I nodded so hard that time that I almost dislocated my shoulders.

I gasped the instant the thing slid out of my dried lips. I wanted to
scream at her to turn me loose. Instead, I croaked out, "Thank you."

"Why you're quite welcome, dear. Would you like to stand up?"

"Please!" My voice shook wildly.

"One little thing, and I'll loosen the rope." I heard her dig through
the bag of things she'd bought and wondered what my next torture was. She
tugged my panties down and ran a finger lubricated with something cold and
slick over my exposed asshole. Then, she eased the finger inside me. It hurt like hell, but what could I do? If I screamed or
protested, she'd do it anyway and leave me tied in this bent forward
position - or something worse. I gritted my teeth and endured as best as I
could.

She wiggled the finger inside me and ran it in and out a couple of
times. Cold sweat again popped out all over me, but there was a strange
heat, also. When she pulled her hand away, I thought she was finished.
Then I felt something cold and hard being pressed into me,

something much fatter than a finger. It spread me so wide I thought I
was going to have to scream, then narrowed, letting my sphincter muscle
clamp around it.

"Very good, honey. In case you're wondering, that's your very own butt
plug. I'm sure it's painful, but you'll get used to it. I expect you to
wear it at all times unless I tell you otherwise. Is that clear?"

I nodded jerkily.

"Say it!"

"Yes," I choked out. "I understand."

When she unhooked the rope from the doorknob and let me stand, I
staggered and almost collapsed. Even the tiny breathing space the tight
corset gave me felt wonderful. I gasped as deep lungfuls of air as I
could. I barely noticed her loosening the long leather sleeve laced up my
arms, locking my elbows together, but I was sure aware of the added freedom
and the lessening torture.

She had to help me to a chair, holding me by my wrists, still cuffed
behind my back. I hissed when I sat, both from tender ass cheeks and the
suddenly more noticeable discomfort of the thing buried in my ass.

Until then, I hadn't looked at her, and what I saw shocked and
frightened me. She looked nothing at all like my wife! She was wearing a
shiny, form-fitting black latex bodysuit that looked

something like wildly cut one piece swimwear. There was a seam down the
middle decorated with silver studs. The outfit made her nipples stand out
and was buried in the valley between her pussy lips. The stiletto heels
made her much taller than I was, even in the five inch heels I wore. Her
eyes were made up in a way that reminded me of Cleopatra, with immense
lashes and eyeliner and silver eye shadow drawn out almost to her temples.
Her lips were a deep, deep red that made

her teeth look too white. "Oh dear, you look terrible! Have you been
ruining your makeup by crying?"

I nodded, shocked by her appearance. I heard myself whine, "It hurt."

"It was supposed to," she said like she was explaining something obvious
to a c***d. "And that was nothing compared to what I'll do if you start
misbehaving again." She tied my bound wrists to the chair and brought me
some water. I sipped thirstily until I noticed how badly I had to pee.
It'd been a long time since I'd used the toilet. And about then the bl**d
flowing through my arms began to tingle, then burn, hurting almost as badly
as being tied had.

"It'll pass," she said with a grin.

"Can I use the bathroom? Please?"

"Soon. But first we've got to get you looking pretty again. Do you
know how much the makeover you ruined cost?"

So she led me back to the bedroom. I couldn't help noticing how the
butt plug made me walk even more enticingly than I had merely in the high
heels. Was there no end to my humiliation? I had to endure another
eternal thirty minutes at her vanity before I was allowed to pee - sitting
down, of course, with my wife standing there impatiently. I couldn't help
but sigh my relief as yet more room was made for me to breathe. As I stood
for her to pull my panties up, I was amazed that I felt almost comfortable
in the corset and heels.

"Such a sexy smile," she observed, tucking my penis back between my
legs. Her fingers lingered there. Her incredibly lush, wet lips hovered
inches from mine, and I felt myself begin to harden in her hand. "Do you
feel good, love?"

"A little," I confessed, reminding myself that I had to go along with
her mad game.

"Don't you feel pretty?"

"Kind of."

"Pretty enough to go out to dinner now?"

I blushed. "I'm awfully tired. Can we do that another time?" My penis
was at full erection by then, and she was showing no sign of stopping.

"But you would if I insisted?"

My hips rocked in time with her caress under my short skirt. "I'd have
to. I know what'd happen if I tried to fight you."

"Oh, no you don't," she whispered into my face. "It'd be a hundred
times worse than you can imagine, Sheila. Trust me on that. You don't
want to ever do anything that'd make me angry. Never again. Understand?"

I nodded, feeling her stroking hand more clearly than I heard her soft
words. The way she was rubbing me through the silky material of the
panties was driving me wild. I parted my lips, leaning forward to kiss
her. She quickly pulled away and squeezed my balls with enough f***e to
make me feel nauseated.

"Ah, ah! None of that, darling. I'll not have you smearing that pretty
lipstick of yours until I tell you to. Is my baby getting all hot? Her
sweet clittie's swollen so big. Would she like me to make her cum?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Please."

"You'd cum in your panties and then sl**p in them?"

"Yes. I don't care. Just -"

"You'd lick and suck my pussy until I told you to stop, and then cum in
them for me?"

Oral sex had always disgusted me. "Yes! Anything you want!"

She dropped her hand and took me back to the bedroom, pushing me to my
knees beside the bed. She quickly opened a velcro closure hidden under the
metal studs of the bodysuit and peeled away a strip of fabric that'd
covered her groin. She straddled my head and sat on the edge of

the mattress. I stared in shock between her legs. She'd shaved her
pussy sometime in the week or more since we'd last made love. Her
pinkish-brown labia shone with moisture.

"Kiss those lips, Sheila. French kiss that mouth, you little slut.
Tongue fuck it like you mean it and maybe I'll let you cum."

I was repelled by the thought, but knew it was my only way to get
gratification, and that resistance would mean real trouble. I made myself
lean forward and hesitantly lap at her.

"No!" she yelled, grabbing me by my wig and slamming my face into her,
humping my nose with her hips. "Do it, you fag slut, or we'll go out and
pick somebody up to fuck YOU!"

I did it with every bit of energy I could summon. Little by little, my
disgust faded. I was turning her on! Her thrusts and approving curses
were heartfelt. I'd never heard her even half so aroused when we made love
normally. My penis strained inside the tight panties as I eagerly

wallowed between her legs, licking and sucking wherever she told me to
and going fast or slow according to her commands.

When she orgasmed, I thought she was going to smother me. She screamed
and her legs clamped around me like steel bands, trapping both my mouth and
nose. Her pussy twitched around my tongue and my nose nuzzled her clit.
Just as I started seeing black dots dancing in front of my eyes, she spread
her legs and I came up gasping for air.

I felt right on the edge of cumming myself. I looked down and saw that
the hem of my hose clad legs were spread wide. My dress had slid up high
enough to show the garters and the panties beneath. My cock was still
almost invisible, pointing toward my butt. It looked like I had a girl's
middle, and I was so turned on I was about to die! I'd never wanted to cum
so bad in my whole life, and I couldn't reach out to jack off. I tried to
pull my legs together, hoping that maybe I could rub my thighs together and
get off that way. It didn't work.

I heard my wife laugh. "Would my horny baby like to cum in her panties
now? Would she like to rub her clit with those sexy hands for me?"

I saw that she was laying back on the bed, staring down at me from
between her legs. She was stroking her clit, just like her words were
describing.

"Would you like me to fix your nasty mouth so you can be pretty for me,
and jack off for me like a dirty little slut?"

"Yes! Oh, god, please!"

When she helped me up, she didn't have to tell me to lay down on the
bed. I did it on my own. She spread my legs and snapped handcuffs attached
to the bedframe around my ankles. Then she freed my hands from behind my
back, clicking the left wrist to the bed over my head. The right one she
set free.

"Now do it slow, Sheila. You can't cum until I tell you to."

I was almost oblivious by then. My hand felt clumsy after being
imprisoned for so long, but it flew straight to my middle. She slapped it
away and pinned my arm under her weight.

"Listen to me, cunt! Unless you do it MY way, you don't get to do it at
all! Now just lay there until I say so!"

I panted while she swayed to the vanity to bring what she needed to
repair my face again. I begged her to hurry. Her hand lightly tickled my
painful balls and I cooperated to the max, holding my mouth open like I was
hungry for the lipstick, turning my head this way and that

so she could powder my cheeks and chin to her satisfaction.

"God, you're a sexy whore, Sheila! Now do exactly as I say. First,
lift your skirt out of the way. Now scratch the length of your clit with
those nasty red fingernails!"

The sc**** of my long nails through the silk almost made me shoot off
right then. I dimly heard the click of the shutter as she took more
pictures, but there was nothing I could do about it. I knew I was angling
my hips up provocatively, but I had to in order to reach myself.

"Feel good, honey? I wish you could see how sexy you are," she cooed.
"Now stick your hand inside the panties and rub it, just a little."

The thrill was electrifying! It took every bit of willpower I owned not
to jerk it just the once it'd take to send me over. But my wife's ominous
warning rang in my ears. I may have whined, but I didn't cum.

"Perfect baby! Now push your panties down under your balls. I want to
see it. I want to watch that pretty hand make you shoot cum up in the air.
NO! NOT YET! I want you to just hold it for a second, just squeeze it.
Feel how good it feels."

I was dying. My ears were ringing and my whole body was stiff. I was
panting like a dog. "Please! Please," I howled.

"Tell me your name, slut! Tell me who you are and I'll let you cum!"

"Sheila," I shrieked. "I'm Sheila!"

"And you just love looking sexy, don't you!"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Beg me to take you dancing tomorrow night!"

"Please take me out! Anywhere you want!"

"Do you want to show off? Do you want to wear that nasty black
minidress and tall heels and bright make up? Show everybody what a hot
little slut you are?"

"Yes! I'll do it!"

"Do you WANT to do it?"

"Yes! Yes! I want to be a slut and let everybody see me!"

"Then cum for me, Sheila! Rub your fat clit and cum!"

The explosion ripped through me like lightning. My first blast of sperm
must have shot two feet in the air. There were many more spurts to follow,
and my flying hand was slick with it long before I was finished. I
collapsed onto the mattress, weak as a baby.

She touched my shrinking penis, and I gasped. It was so sensitive I
couldn't stand it. I heard her low chuckle, but she relented and lifted
her hand. She brushed my lips with her fingers, and I

automatically kissed them, tasting something salty and sticky.

My drowsy eyes sprang open. It was my cum! I jerked my head away.

Her voice was a frightening growl. "Do you really want to make me
angry, Sheila? Do you really want to resist me? Are you ready for a hot,
long dick to slide up your asshole?"

My eyes threatened to overflow. "No," I whispered.

"Then lick every drop of cum from my fingers like a good slut."

More humiliated than I'd been while giving the clerks my charge card, or
even having the man leer at me through the car windows, I did what she
demanded. She scooped every last bit of sperm off my dress and slack penis
and made me swallow it. Finally, after I'd licked my own

hand clean, she was satisfied.

After she'd made me change into a red teddy, she chained me to the foot
of the bed and made me sl**p on a blanket on the floor. She'd loosened my
girdle a little, but made me sl**p in make up and the wig. The butt plug
was still there, too. She fed me a can of diet milkshake and a

tiny salad.

"You need to get used to being this way, Sheila. And this IS the way
you're going to be for the next two weeks. Maybe longer, if you give me
any trouble. I can't wait to get our next photos back. They'll show
anybody who sees them just how much you love living this way."

The renewed threat to give them to my boss cowed me even further. I'd
never been so miserable in my life. She'd reminded me, as she handcuffed
me to the bedframe, of what she'd said earlier.

"I told you, Sheila. I knew you didn't believe me then, but now you
know. I made you beg me to go out and flaunt your slutty body, just like I
said I would."

I cried as quietly as I could in the darkness. Somehow, some way, I HAD
to get out of this!

4. Chapter - Adjustments

I woke up stiff and sore, with the thing in my ass hurting like hell.
That and being on the floor were instant reminders of everything that'd
happened. I tried a deep breath but was stopped by the corset. I had to
sweep the wig's hair out of my mouth. My fingernails startled me so

much that my handcuffs clinked on the bed.

The mattress moved and my wife's sl**py face peered down at me. "Good
morning, Sheila? Did you sl**p okay?"

A bitter retort was on my lips when I saw her face turn hard. I
swallowed my protest. "Um, it was okay."

She looked pleased. "That's the spirit, darling! What a good girl
you're being! Just for that, I'll let you go to the bathroom alone."

I tried to hide the hope surging through me by looking down at the floor
and thanking her. My heart was pounding. She dashed it by holding up a
pair cuffs with a short length of chain between them. She clicked them
around my ankles before unlocking me from the bed, and

made me put on the five inch heels. I had to take short mincing steps.
Even if I could get away from her, where could I go in a corset and teddy
with shackles on my legs? Seeing my dismay, she laughed heartily as I
walked delicately from the room.

I hated seeing myself in the mirror. There was still sl**p worn
lipstick on my mouth, eyeliner around my eyes, and flakes of mascara all
over my cheeks. The brown wig was a tangled mop. Under the teddy I was as
hairless as my wife, and the corset showing through the lacy lingerie
showed a shape as nice as hers, too. I could barely see a man beneath all
that. The haggard woman in the mirror looked familiar, like my twin s****r
might have if I had one.

I felt foolish standing to pee, having to hold the red teddy out of the
way, but I was damned if I'd squat unless I had to. The long red
fingernails embarrassed me as they touched my heavy morning cock. I had to
look away as I did my business.

I tried to think. I could take a razor out with me to use as a weapon -
but they were all the disposable kind and wouldn't work. Not that I could
really hurt her, not even for this. But maybe I could convince her I meant
business. To my dismay, there were no scissors, no nothing. Every
conceivable weapon had been taken away. I almost cried in frustration, and
managed not to only by reminding myself how feminine a reaction that'd be.

I pulled myself together. There'd be another time, other chances, if I
played my cards right. Hating what I had to do, I tugged a brush through
the wig and rinsed my face and mouth. I tried a practice smile, but it was
too scary. I had to stay away from mirrors.

She arched an eyebrow when I traipsed back out with as much enthusiasm
as I could find. "Why you little darling! You cleaned up for me!"

"Would you like me to bring you coffee in bed?" I asked her remembering
to speak softly in as feminine a voice as I could muster.

"What? And leave you in the kitchen with all those sharp things?
Honey, you might hurt yourself."

Obviously, she knew I'd try something and wasn't going to give me the
opening I needed. I choked back a burst of rage. "I'd be very careful."

"I'm sure you would, darling. But not this time. Sit down there and
get started on your face, my little cum lover. I'll make the coffee."

She cuffed my legs to the back legs of the vanity's chair and roped my
chest tightly to the back. I might be able to reach the knot, I thought.

"Now do a good job, honey. I want you to look pretty. Remember, we've
got an appointment to get your hair done this afternoon."

"But I can't!" I protested. "I don't know how!"

"Come darling," she warned as she turned away. "You've watched me
hundreds of time, and Cindy and I showed you exactly how it needs to be
done. Do it and do it right, or else!"

The moment she was out of sight, I tried the knot. It was tight, and I
could get no leverage because of the angle of my wrists. I fumbled with it
anyway, desperately, but to no avail. Again tears threatened me. This
time I couldn't hold them off. Once I started, I couldn't stop.

I'd never felt anything like that in my life. I was terrified and
helpless. She was outsmarting me at every turn. I was horrified - she was
winning! She WAS going to be able to make me do whatever she demanded, no
matter how sick or twisted. I was never going to be able to resist her. I
was still crying when she came back fifteen minutes later. Her deep scowl
made me try harder to dam the flood.

"You haven't even started!" she accused angrily.

"I ... I ..." I stammered hopelessly.

"You worthless little bitch! That does it!" She stormed toward me.
There was no way to flee from her. I covered my face with my arms and
sobbed anew. But she didn't go for my face. Her slap landed squarely
between my legs. I doubled up with a sick groan. She wrenched one arm

behind my back and twisted. A cold cuff went around my wrist.

"Give me the other arm!"

I did.

"Why you thankless bitch! You broke a nail messing with that knot,
trying to get away! Oh, you'll pay for that, too!" She jerked me to my
feet by my arms, causing me to yell in pain. She dragged me into the
bathroom and pushed me into the tub, still wearing what I'd slept in. She
jerked off my high heels, then turned the water on, adjusting it until it
was almost scalding hot. I was too afraid to protest. At least I'd quit
crying. She quickly reattached the handcuffs around a

very solid towel rack. With a sinking heart, I remembered I'd installed
it for her three weeks ago. More evidence that she'd been planning this
for a very long time!

To the burning water, she added fragrant bath salts and oils. She
reached under me and with a cruel jerk, removed the plug that almost felt
like part of my ass.

"You've earned the next larger size, cunt. We've got to get you
loosened up and ready for a big fat real cock, don't we? After all, we
don't want it to hurt you so much you can't enjoy the way it's going slide
in and out of you."

That was more than enough to make me sob all over again. "Please," I
begged her softly, "Not that. Anything but that."

"Anything, Sheila? You mean that anything's better than having a man
lift your sexy legs over his shoulders and spread those cute buns under
your dress and hammer you with his cock?"

"Yes!" I wailed hysterically. "Anything!"

"Oh, baby," she laughed, "I'm going to make you remember what you just
said. When you're crying this hard, begging me to let you have a cock up
your ass, I'll remind you. And you will, you know. Just like you did last
night."

With the steaming tub filled to the rim, she left me to soak and think.
Horrible scenarios ran through my mind, but none were anywhere near as bad
as what she'd said. What could be worse than having another man do that to
me? The whole thing was a nightmare, but that ...

The water was almost cool by the time she returned, and I was having
trouble. It was like the butt plug had already loosened my asshole, and I
was sweating as I tried to keep my bowels from emptying in the bathwater.

"Toilet!" I begged the instant the door opened.

"Oh, my! Do we have a problem, darling?" I barely noticed that she was
in makeup as wild as the night before and wearing an ebony minidress that
looked as wet and skin tight as her bodysuit had.

"I need to shit! Please!"

She giggled merrily. "We can't have that, can we? You'd have to walk
around all day smelling of your own shit!" She put a theatrically
thoughtful red nail before her thick scarlet lips. "Now let me see. What
did I do with those keys?"

I realized as she turned away that she wasn't coming back. I knew the
keys were just outside the door on an end table. And she didn't return
until she heard the forlorn wail I made fifteen minutes later as my
stretched sphincter finally released. I was straining to keep as much

of my body out of the filth as I could and crying like a lost toddler.

She clucked her tongue at me and looked disgusted. "Well, Sheila.
That's your third fuck up already, and you've only been awake an hour.
What am I going to do with you? I'm only going to be able to have you
fucked by a few men before it's more reward than punishment."

"I'm sorry! I'll behave! I swear to God I will. Please, Ellen, give
me one more chance!" I knew she was maneuvering me, but it was all I could
do.

She walked up to the side of the tub, petted my damp wig with her hand.
I looked up, pleading with my eyes. I could see right up her skirt, see
that she wasn't wearing any panties, just garters to hold up her seamed
hose. Her naked pussy pouted down at me. I remembered how it tasted. Her
searing red mouth smiled. "Anything, darling. That's what you said.
Remember? Now take a deep breath and relax."

With that, she unlocked my hands. I knew what was coming. Nausea
welled up in me as she pushed my head under the water I'd soiled. At least
she let me shower and scrub myself clean, even though I didn't feel that
way. It didn't feel like I'd ever be able to get clean. I hated her for
what she'd done - all of it, not just in the bathtub. But it was a strange
hatred, more fear than anger, if that makes sense. It didn't to me. I was
more and more convinced that I wasn't going to be able to escape her - ever. My self-confidence had been eaten away
over the past day until I doubted everything except her cunning.

Somehow, being naked was even worse than wearing the corset and teddy
had been. My hairlessness seemed all the reminder I needed. I wrapped a
towel around me to hide as much of myself as I could while I shaved my
light beard as smooth as was humanly possible. I knew the towel was a
feminine gesture, but I couldn't stand seeing myself that way.

When I finally minced out of the bathroom in my shackles, holding my
shampooed wig in my hand, she acted like nothing had ever happened. She
was chatty, in a kind of girl to girl way. She'd loaded a tray with fresh
fruit and coffee. My mouth watered as I ate my share and tried to make
light conversation. She was critical of my voice, but not in a vicious
way. As she cleared the scant meal, she told me to do my makeup like a good
girl.

I promptly tried to imitate what had been done to me several times the
day before. I'd been paying no attention, and was finding the task
overwhelming. I swallowed my fear and meekly asked for her help. I
watched her expressionless face as she approached, fearful of her
wrath, but her smile made me try to, also.

"Of course, my love. I'm so happy you asked." She pressed her soft
breasts against the back of my head as she hugged me. "I'd love to help
make you beautiful. But," she warned tenderly, "you must learn to do it
for yourself, or I'll be upset."

"I will," I vowed, relishing the feel of her chest wrapping around me.
"Uh, by the way, I think you're beautiful today." It was the most truthful
thing I'd said all day.

"Um," she purred, sliding her hands down my smooth chest, playing with
my nipples, rubbing her breasts more firmly against me. "Thank you, lover.
I knew you'd like it as much as I do."

She let her hands slide lower still, grasped my growing member in a
gentle hand. "God, you make me so hot," she whispered, staring at me via
the mirror. "You've done your lips even better than I did. Such a sweet
red pout - but you should never start with lipstick, baby. Oohh.

My cunt's dripping, thinking about how good they'd feel kissing it like
you did last night. You gave me the best orgasm I've ever had, Sheila. I
want to sixty-nine with you, lick your clit until we both cum."

"I want that, too," I panted hotly, imagining my cock in that sweltering
red mouth. I spoke what I hoped she wanted to hear. "Let me lick you
again. Let me fuck you with my tongue."

She kept me stone hard and sweaty until she'd coached me through the
whole makeover. Then she f***ed me into a second corset, this one red, and
let me play with myself and her heavy breasts as she stretched the laces
tighter and tighter. She warned me over and over not to cum

until she gave me permission. I had to put the breast forms in myself.
Satisfied, she pushed me to the carpet and straddled my face.

"Eat me, whore," was her final command before lowering her head toward
my big, raging clit.

It didn't take either one of us long. I couldn't wait for her to tell
me to let go. She started writhing on my face as her orgasm hit her, and
mine erupted wildly moments later. She didn't seem to mind, as she moaned
loudly, despite her mouthful, and sucked mightily. I was still lazily
licking her when she lifted herself off me and turned around. She brought
her smeared red lips down to mine and kissed me hungrily. She f***ed her
tongue into my mouth, then pushed

the glob of cum she'd saved into the back of my mouth. I tried to pull
away, but there was nowhere to go. She clamped one hand over my lips and
massaged my throat until I swallowed repeatedly, my eyes filled with tears
of humiliation.

"There. Was that so bad, Sheila? Because you're being so cooperative,
I'll overlook the fact that I didn't give you permission to cum. See? I'm
not unreasonable. If you continue to behave, we can both enjoy ourselves.
But the moment you rebel, I'm the only one who'll enjoy myself. Now be a
doll and take your vitamin before you fix your face."

The way she said it made me suspicious. I looked at the big pill when I
rolled it into my palm.

Her laughter made me turn my head after I'd swallowed it. "You're
right, dear. That's a very special vitamin. You've been taking a huge
dose of female hormones for over a month now. Haven't you noticed how
smooth your skin is getting? Soon, you'll be growing your very own

breasts!"

I stared at her in utter horror, more sick to my stomach than bathing in
my shit had made me.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I cried.

She encircled my waist from behind, trapping my arms within hers.
"Because it's what we both want, darling. Don't you see? You need this as
much as I do." Her voice turned stern and cold. "If you ruin your makeup
by crying, I'll make you regret it."

It took superhuman effort to stifle the tears. I wondered, in my panic,
if the daily overdose of hormones was what was making me so emotional. I
tried to pay attention to the cosmetics as I prepared my face to go back to
the mall. I didn't care how I looked - but Ellen did, and pleasing her was
something I HAD to do.

Dressed in a skimpy gold dress and strapped into yet another pair of
five inch heels, with the promised larger butt plug trapped between my ass
cheeks and my wig pinned to my scalp, she led me back to the garage. I was
somewhat shocked that she didn't use the handcuffs. I guess she figured
the leather collar and leg irons and my full blown feminine look was enough
incentive to behave. She was right, too.

5. Chapter- Defining Sheila

It was ten times worse than the day before. Ellen's almost obscene
black dress and lewd makeup attracted the attention of everyone we
encountered as we traipsed through the mall. While all their eyes locked
on her first, they took me in also. She warned me, after we'd gone a
little way, to stand tall and act proud of my beauty, or else. The shop
windows showed me how I looked, with my big breast forms and tiny waist and
full hips revealed by the clinging gold dress. I couldn't ignore how
enticing my widely swaying ass looked. I felt like a beacon, like people
could see me from miles away. She'd deliberately parked as far from the
beauty salon as possible, exposing us to the blatant stares of hundreds of
people as we traversed the full length of the shopping center. I felt
every lusty look like it was actually touching me.

By the time we finally got to the salon, I was horribly confused. While
I was ashamed to death of being publicly exposed like that, I was also a
little breathless with excitement. It wasn't really sexual. My cock
wasn't rock hard, for which I was immensely thankful. It was more like I
was doing something dangerous, something illicit, that charged me with
adrenaline. I was fooling everyone! They were staring at me as hard as
they could, and had no idea!

The way Ellen looked at me when we turned into the beauty shop told me
she knew what I was feeling. Her smile mocked my pleasure, said, "I told
you so," without her having to say a word.

Cindy and my wife again led me to the back room. I was grateful to be
out of sight and tried to relax. After my period of freedom, I was
dismayed when Ellen again used the velcro straps on my wrists.

"You know what to do," she told Cindy. "And while you're at it, she
broke a fingernail this morning that needs to be fixed."

"No problem," the stylist smirked. "I've been thinking. If you'd like,
I could wax her legs and chest and I think I can do better with her face,
too."

"Great idea! Do whatever you think the little bitch needs. I'll be
back in an hour or so." She turned her wet red lips up and smiled at me.
"Be a good girl, Sheila. I think Cindy likes you, so be very nice and
don't give her any trouble."

I nodded meekly, tried to smile back, and used the tips she'd given me
on speaking right. "Have fun shopping."

As soon as she was out of sight, Cindy started acting different. "Okay,
Sheila, we're going to have a lot of fun today. You're not going to
believe how hot you're going to look before I'm through with you."

She removed my wig, which was embarrassing. Anybody who walked in would
recognize me for what I was. I was expecting her to style it or something.
Instead, she threw it carelessly on the counter and picked up a pair of
shears. When she started cutting away all my hair, I froze. She didn't
stop until my hair was an eighth of an inch long all over! Then, to my
horror, she picked up a straight razor and ran it ominously over a strop,
smiling wickedly at me all the while.

I sat rigidly, gripping the armrest as tightly as I could, while she
applied shaving cream to my scalp and shaved me completely bald! I was
whimpering, doing everything possible not to cry at my humiliation.

"Now look in the mirror, Sheila!" It was a command at least as intense
as any Ellen gave me. I obeyed, fearing the consequences, and was
astonished by what I saw.

It wasn't a bald man sitting there, but a lovely, delicately featured
young woman with a scalp as slick as a cue ball! I tried as hard as I
could to see myself under the clothes and cosmetics, and couldn't! The
dangling earrings, arched eyebrows and bowed, trembling red lips weren't
mine! The heaving double swell of my chest looked like it belonged there!
The shapely hose covered legs and towering high heels were someone else's!
I had vanished as thoroughly as if I'd never

existed!

"Now for the good part," Cindy said. She lifted another wig, long,
platinum blonde and obviously very, very expensive, from a box. She showed
me a peculiar smooth liner on the underside instead of the weave like on
the other one. "What happens is that I apply a nice smooth

coat of a special epoxy to your scalp and the wig, then ..."

She let her words trail off. I completed the sentence for her in my
mind. It'd become permanent. Maybe, in a month or so, as my hair grew
out, it'd loosen. Until it did, the silver blonde hair would cascade over
my shoulders and reach part way down my back. It finally

penetrated that my two week vacation "cruise" wasn't going to end that
soon, no matter how well I behaved.

I gave in to my tears while Cindy smeared the smelly paste all over my
scalp and I openly sobbed when she carefully fitted the wig to my head,
jerking it firmly into place. She wore an expression of triumph.

"Jesus," she sneered, "what a pussy you are! It's no wonder your wife
treats you this way. It's exactly what a wimpy little fag like you
deserves! Now I'm going to take these straps off and get you out of that
corset long enough to make sure there's not a single bit of stubble
anywhere on you. Give me any shit, and I'll invite every woman in the shop
to come back and laugh at your naked body!"

Taking all my clothes off was even worse than wearing them. I felt like
I wasn't a man anymore, and she destroyed the illusion that I was a woman,
too. She laughed at the plug closing my ass as she smeared a burning,
stinking chemical all over me, even on my face, cock and

balls, and made me endure the torture of the depilatory far longer than
was necessary. I was afraid it was going to burn my penis and balls right
off. She pushed me into a shower and made me rinse it all off and use a
heavily perfumed soap and then fragrant body powder. I noticed how smooth
and soft I was all over. I guessed the hormones were working, like Ellen
had said.

She laced me back into the red corset even tighter than my wife had, but
had added some padding to the hip area while I showered. When she stepped
back to admire her work, I had even more of an hourglass figure than
before. She made me sit in the chair, with nothing to cover my

dangling, shriveled genitals, while the other girl, Debbie, redid all my
nails, not just the one I'd cracked, and made them even longer and redder.
The way she smirked from time to time at my groin made me wish my sex
organs would crawl up inside me.

Cindy, meanwhile, was styling my new hair and redoing my face, using a
different colored foundation, lots of bright blush, and making my eyes and
lips look as slutty as Ellen's did. I really and truly looked like a cheap
whore with useless male organs where a wet pussy should have been.

That's the way my wife found me on her return. Her eyes widened with
surprise, then her lush lips smiled. "Good lord, Cindy! You're a genius!"

"You've got one hot little slut here!" the stylist laughed.
"Thirty-seven, twenty-two, thirty-five unless I'm blind. That gold dress
is going to be stretched even tighter over her mean little ass. Too bad
she's got such a pot belly under that corset. Get her to lose fifteen
pounds and she'd be a real knockout - if she didn't have that ugly thing
between her legs."

"Twenty pounds is more like it," my wife said. She patted my wrist. "I
know she can do it. She may not show it, but she loves what you've done
for her, don't you darling?"

When I meekly nodded, her hand tightened on my arm. Before she could
reprimand me for not answering aloud, I did. "Yes. It's lovely. Thank
you, Cindy."

They both laughed at my spinelessness. Cindy added, a little
hesitantly, "I, uh, came across something else I think she might like. If
you don't mind, Ellen, I'd like to give her a present."

Ellen looked touched. "Cindy! That's so sweet! Of course you may!" I
was instantly filled with fear.

The stylist opened a drawer in her cabinet and brought out a gaily
wrapped package with "To Sheila," written on the tag and handed it to me.
The paper read "Happy Birthday," all over. I blushed furiously.

"Well open it, silly girl!" my wife urged.

I did, fumbling, unable to use my hands as I always had due to the
absurd length of my hooked nails. I discovered I could use them as tools,
sliding them along, slitting the paper like a letter opener. Inside the
box was a bizarre flesh toned elastic device something like both a g-string
and a pouchless jock strap. When I figured out its function, my blush went
even deeper.

"A retainer!" Ellen said appeciatively. "Oh, Sheila, put it on for us!"
She ripped off the velcro bands, freeing my arms.

I bent forward as far as I could, exhaled every bit of air in my lungs,
but the corset wouldn't let me come close to reaching my ankles, even when
I lifted one foot. "Will you help me?"

"Of course, darling! Here!" I delicately lifted each foot as she
slipped it over my ankles, but she stopped when she'd lifted it to a height
I'd shown I could reach. I had to do the rest.

It was humiliating to have to detach my hose from the garters, elevate
my hips, and work the thing into place. Worst of all was reaching inside
it and arranging my penis and balls so that they flattened into absolute
invisibility. Ellen again helped me with my tiny bikini panties. When all
was done, I had a perfectly smooth middle. Even the retainer's tough
elastic string dug so deeply into my flesh that it left no line.

For all visible purposes, I had been turned into a complete woman, even
if they peeked up my dress. No one who saw me would ever doubt my
femininity now. The leather collar covered the lump of my larynx. My
knees weren't even knobby. I felt positive that I would "pass" wherever I
went. But that was only part of it.

My own senses reported no masculinity left in me. My shimmering hair -
the only hair I had other than my carefully shaped eyebrows - had tickled
my cleavage as I bent forward, swung with my every move. Dangling from my
ears were long gold earrings that chimed softly when I moved my head. I
had learned to look out at the world through long black lashes thick with
mascara, day and night. When I looked at my chest, even without breast
forms, I saw how much the corset lifted and shaped my very own flesh into
small pink bosoms - and Ellen assured me that, due to the hormones, they
were growing. Now even my panties were flat and smooth. My every word was
shaped by lips that dripped with deep red color. My fluttering hands were
branded, changed by long scarlet commas. My ass was perpetually violated
by a fake penis I'd gotten used to feeling rub my insides as I walked.
Even without high heels, my hips rolled and swayed.

My emotions weren't even my own. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it
was something else, but the bottom line was that I cried every time I
became afraid. I felt that EVERY emotion I felt was visible. Ellen had
easily seen through my sly efforts to try to escape from her control. And,
while I hate admitting it, she'd also read, without even trying, how
pleased I was by what Cindy had done to me. I DID like it. I WAS
grateful. And the clearly visible rush of joy that made them

laugh was making me sick.

While they chatted about this and that, I paid no attention. I was
trying to name a new emotion growing in me. I hated myself for what I was
feeling. It made me feel like maybe I was exactly what Cindy had called me
- a pussy, a wimpy little fag. That was the only kind of man

I could think of who'd be so proud of his completely feminized
appearance as I was.

As Ellen turned to me and asked me a question, I was jerked back from my
sad musing. "I'm sorry," I had to confess, despite the danger, "I didn't
hear ..."

Cindy laughed throatily. "Little cunt was so busy admiring herself she
wasn't listening."

My wife's look was stern, and her eyes shone maliciously. "I asked you
if you'd like to thank Cindy for her birthday gift."

"Yes. Of course. Thank you, Cindy. It's -"

"Not that way," Ellen interrupted harshly.

I was befuddled. Cindy took my hand, helped me stand, led me back to
the bathroom. I had no idea what was happening, but I was sure I wasn't
going to like it. She locked the door and leaned against the lavatory.
"You really didn't hear, did you?"

"Uh, no. I'm sorry. I -"

"Ellen was telling me what a great pussy eater you are, how you make her
cum like she's never cum before."

I paled, felt dizzy, sick. Unable to speak, I watched her hands slowly
lift her skirt, inch at a time.

"You know what to do, Sheila. Don't make me use f***e."

I stared at her exposed panties. They were a pale blue. Their crotch
was moist, dark. One hand released her hem. I felt the weight of it
transerred to my shoulder. I sank to my knees. What else could I do?

She made me do it all. I watched my woman's hands tenderly lower her
panties, revealing her moist cunt, its lips shaven, but with a cloud of
brown curls left above the hooded clitoris. I touched, stroked it, finger
fucked it, careful of my nails, exactly as she told me to. I kissed it and
licked it and inserted my tongue in her cavity to her gasped
specifications. She didn't taste quite like Ellen did. Less fishy, more
fragrant. Better, really. Her hands were rough in my hair though. The
sharp pain in my scalp was almost exactly as if my hair was real, not like
the wig had been.

When she came with a muffled shriek, I hungrily licked her clean. My
penis throbbed in my new restraint, filling it with cum. I hadn't even
touched it. My lust had betrayed me. Even after her hands left my hair, I
stayed there, kissing away the dregs of her passion, increasingly aware of
how I'd left my lipstick all over her, how proud of myself I was for
returning her gift in the only way I could.

"You ARE good, Sheila," she purred, no laughter left in her tone.

"Thank you. You taste so good, Cindy." I kissed her reddened clitoris
one last time. Was it really me admitting that, meaning that? It must be.

She helped me to my feet, more tender than she'd ever been. She
gathered me in for a soft kiss, and I offered no resistance, automatically
parted my lips for her tongue. "Next time, I'll give you another present
and maybe I'll taste you. Would you like that?"

"If you want to. If it's okay with Ellen," I stammered. My eyes were
on my face in the mirror as she hugged me. My cheeks were wet with her
fluids. My lips were smeared. When I licked them, I tasted the candy of
my lipstick and the richness of her cum. I'd made her do that, given her
so much pleasure that she'd shouted it aloud.

"You didn't answer me, slut. Would you LIKE that?"

"Yes, Cindy. Very much. I ... I came, too." I watched the honesty
made my face red.

She pushed me to arms length, her eyes twinkling merrily. "You did?
Show me!"

My regret was instantaneous. I stuttered, looking for a way out. Her
expression turned stony. "Show me, whore! Show me the mess you made in
the present I gave you!"

Batting back tears of shame, I wiggled my panties down, then the heavy
elastic, sticky with spewed sperm. My cock hung, tiny and wrinkled and
ugly, shiny with thick spunk.

Cindy's laughter was like tinking bells. "What does Ellen make you do
when you cum? Does she punish you?"

I could lie, I thought. Maybe she wouldn't tell my wife. But if she
did? And, did I really WANT to lie? "She ... she makes me eat it."

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

I was ready for it that time. I knew the taste and texture. I sc****d
up what I could. She made me unhook my hose and remove the device and lick
it clean. Her eyes glittered the whole time. Her breath was quick again.
I could see her nipples through her dress. This was giving her pleasure,
too. I made a small, shy show of the process, trying to look like I
enjoyed what I was doing. Didn't I, at least a little? Wasn't this a
vital part of what'd been done to me? Didn't it

earn me favor, freedom? Such a small price to pay.

"May I put it back on now, Cindy?" I'd seen how my penis was growing. I
wanted to hide it.

"No. Let's show Ellen what a good bitch you've been."

I hung my head and she led me out, panties dangling from one hand,
retainer from the other. Her voice was thick while she related every
detail to my wife. I hazarded a glance at Ellen from beneath the shield
locks of my tangled hair, and quailed inside.

She wasn't pleased by my actions. She was shocked, maybe even dismayed,
and trying not to show it. I felt my lower lip begin to tremble as my eyes
filled with fearful tears. I'd been so sure I was doing the right thing!

The next time I glanced up, her face was a blank mask, and her eyes were
on me, not Cindy, whose voice was but a dim echo. She read my confusion
like I was an open book. I guess I was. I couldn't look away. She
deliberately reached into her purse and came up with a package of
cigarettes and a lighter. My shock deepened. She abhorred everything
about tobacco, yet she tapped out a cigarette and lit it and inhaled as if
she'd been doing it for years. I was like a rodent

hypnotized by a snake, staring vacantly at how her bright lips stained
the white filter, then pursed as if she was kissing the grey plume she
exhaled.

Cindy's tale ended and my wife's eyes dismissed me. She smiled tightly,
but Cindy missed the tension in it. "Very good, Sheila. You're turning
into the perfect little slut, aren't you?"

She was waiting. I didn't know what to say. "I ... I guess so. I'm
sorry if -"

"There's nothing to be sorry about, darling. Nothing at all. But we
have to hurry. There's so much to do before we go out tonight. Go back in
there and get dressed. Fix your makeup."

Ellen paid Cindy while I quickly wiggled into my undergarments, repaired
my lipstick and powdered my face. The stylist refused a tip. "Sheila's
already given me one," she laughed. "Bring her back next week if you'd
like to begin electrolysis on her face."

I followed numbly. Electrolysis to remove my thin facial hair? I
didn't even worry about it. All my worries were focused on my wife. She
marched quickly along, forcing me to have to hurry to keep up. I felt
awkward, stumbling along as best I could in the five inch heels, and knew I
was making a fool of myself. She was angry what I'd done. Very angry.
I'd be punished horribly for some transgression, and I wasn't even sure
what it was. Because I'd had an orgasm as I ate

Cindy? That must be it.

She didn't slow her pace, and I fell farther and farther behind.
Everyone was looking at us - the striking brunette in the clinging black
lycra dress, and the slutty, clumsy platinum blonde. After a

while, I realized no one could tell I was following her. We didn't look
like we were together.

A surge of panic made me bite my lower lip to stifle a shout. Was she
going to abandon me here? Was she deliberately going to f***e me to get
home however I could? My pace faltered, throwing me even further behind.
What was I going to do? I had no money, no identification nothing! My
legs refused to carry me another step. I was frozen, in the middle of a
throng of shoppers. A man bumped into me and I nearly leapt out of my
skin.

He stopped. "You okay lady?" His eyes touched me, raked me.

I bolted. I couldn't stand how close he was, what his eyes were doing.
I pursued my wife, not caring how it looked. I felt like my very life
depended on catching her before she reached the car. To my utter horror, I
couldn't see her. Even in five inch heels, everyone was taller than I was.
The crowd had closed around her, as if it was trying to hide her. I
hesitated, turning hopelessly this way and that, at the juncture of two
wings of the mall, having no idea which direction she'd gone. I was too
scared to even remember where the car was. I'd never felt so utterly lost
and alone, even as a c***d. How could she hate me so much that she'd do
this to me?

I was positive my immobility was again drawing more attention to my face
and body. I knew I looked like I was advertising, asking for exactly the
kind of looks I was being given. There was nothing exciting about it now.
My wife had buffered me from it, made me safe. Now, I was totally
vulnerable, exposed even more than I had been when Cindy stripped me nude
in the salon.

Terror became dread certainty. Something horrible was going to happen.

"Scared, cunt?" came a sibilant whisper in my ear.

I whirled to her, my nightmare ended. "Oh, Ellen! Where were you?"

"You're crying. Stop it this instant." She handed me a tissue. She was
still angry, but there was compassion, too.

I hadn't even been aware of my tears, and was ashamed. "I'm sorry." I
blotted my eyes like she'd taught me. "I guess I was making a fool of
myself again. Did I mess up my eyes?"

"Not too badly. Come on. I need a drink."

This time, her pace was moderate, but her low grade anger made me hold
back a step. I was desperate to please her, to make amends for whatever
I'd done wrong. I reminded myself to stand tall, act proud, do everything
she'd told me to do. It didn't fully register that we were going to a bar
until she crossed the flow of traffic and led me into a dim, hushed space
that smelled of smoke and liquor. It was barely three in the afternoon,
and the place was anything but crowded.

My wife occupied one half of an isolated booth. I took the other side.

She silently stared at me until I dropped my eyes. The tension was so
thick I could taste its bitterness on my tongue. Urgency built within me
to end it, but my jaw seemed locked closed. My mind spun madly, looking
for the right thing to do, to say. A waitress appeared. Ellen

ordered a pair of stingers in somber tones. I thought she was digging
through her handbag for makeup so I could make repairs, but she extracted
another cigarette instead. The lighter added light to her face for a
moment.

"What? You disapprove of me smoking?"

"It's just a shock is all. It looks so ... like you've been doing it
for a long time."

She exhaled with what seemed relief. "What if I told you I started oh,
say, six months ago? What if I said that, since you weren't paying any
attention to me, I bought this dress and started going out?"

My mouth hung open foolishly. "You did? Oh, God, Ellen!" Pictures
flickered through my mind. Ellen, painted and needy, sitting in places
like this looking for men.

"I didn't say that's what happened. I said 'what if.' How would that
make you feel?"

"Sick, I guess. And sorry I was so blind. Is there anything I can do
-"

Her laugh was harsh. "You keep assuming that's what happened, you
stupid bitch. If you knew I'd been fucking other men - excuse me, men
period - would you feel betrayed? Jealous?"

"Of course! I love you, Ellen. I'd do anything to -"

The waitress delivered the drinks, reducing us to silence again. It was
even worse than before. It was like she'd fed me a slow poison. I felt it
eating at my guts. Doubt assailed me. Surely I'd have known. I'd have
smelled the smoke clinging to her flesh and clothes. I'd have been able to
tell if another cock had been inside her, if her lips had been passionately
locked to another mouth.

"'Anything,'" she mocked me, easily taking more smoke. "There's that
word again, Sheila. Every time you use it, you make me want to test you,
to push you, to see if you really mean it."

I squirmed.

"Drink up," she ordered, not touching hers, but waiting for me to sip
from my glass. Neither of us were big fans of hard liquor. Instantly, I
felt the small taste. Its warmth expanding outward from my empty stomach.
It'd been two days since I'd had a decent meal, and I knew the drink was
going to hit me like an avalanche. I wanted to ask her for a sandwich of
something. I held my tongue.

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"I ... I think so. You're saying that what I ... what happened with
Cindy made you feel ... uh, betrayed."

She leaned back. Her bl**d red smile was sharp as a knife. "I warned
you. Remember? 'If you act like a slut, I'll have to treat you like one.'
I think those were my exact words."

"But I was just doing what you ordered me to do!"

"Did I tell you to cum? Did I tell you to like it? Did I tell you to
lick up your cum, or kiss her, or promise to let her suck you off the next
time she gives you a present?"

"No." I stared at my woman's hands wrapped around the drink, the rim
marked by my woman's lips.

She leaned forward. Her breasts touched the table. I could see down
almost to her nipples. "What do you call someone who gives sex in return
for gifts?"

My heart shriveled. "But you told me to thank her that way! I -"

"I didn't say a fucking thing about 'next time,' did I? Answer me!
What kind of woman does what you did?"

She was right. What'd I'd done - almost all of it - wasn't really
because she made me do it. I'd WANTED to. I felt the weight of the words
fill my mouth, overflow my lips. "A whore," I barely whispered.

"I didn't hear you."

I repeated it for her. "A whore. I acted like a whore."

"Is that what you are, Sheila?"

"No! I'm sorry, Ellen. I was wrong. I did a terrible thing. It'll
never happen again. I promise."

"Un huh. And I'm supposed to forgive you. Just like that?"

I swallowed. "I, uh ... I guess I should be punished."

"Are you asking me to punish you?"

I finally managed to meet her steely gaze. "I want you to do whatever
you need to do. I need you, Ellen. I love you more than anything. If you
have to hurt me to forgive me, I'll take it." I was whining, begging. I
meant it with my entire being. "When I thought you'd abandoned me here, I
saw how much I need you. I can't stand the thought of ever being without
you. I think I'd die without you. You've ... I'm different now. I'm
scared all the time. The only time I feel good is when I'm doing what you
want."

I watched her anger evaporate, saw the real love in her eyes. "Do you
really mean that, honey?"

I was thrilled! "Oh, god, yes!"

"And you'll willingly prove it to me?"

I hesitated before I said the next word. I needed to be sure I meant
it, she said. "Anything."

Her smile was a ray of brilliance. Her hand covered mine, squeezed.
"You are a treasure, my love. I adore you. I realized something myself.
What you did with Cindy made me admit to myself how much I need you, too.
Now finish your drink."

I swallowed it with unladylike gulps, then gasped for breath. We both
laughed.

I shook my head at the instantaneous blast of dizziness, felt my hair
tickle my shoulders. "Whoo! That's more than I've had to drink in years."

"Since our wedding," she grinned, then pushed the second glass toward
me.

"You want me to drink this one, too?"

"Un huh. In time. But first let's go freshen up. I love what Cindy's
done to your face, don't you?"

I babbled affirmatives to her questions as we wound our way to the
ladies' room. It was weird going in there, but the thrill of illicitness
was back. I'd always wondered what those forbidden doors hid. I whispered
how much fun it was to fool everyone, to take little risks like this and
almost dare people to challenge me.

"I know exactly what you mean," she laughed gaily, but softly. "I feel
the same way wearing these clothes and using so much makeup. That's why I
smoke, too. It's part of the disguise. Want to try it?"

"I'd choke. That wouldn't be very sexy, would it?"

We kept up our quiet chatter while we touched up our faces, trading
cosmetics, giving one another giggled advice. We were mirror images, I
thought. She dark, me light; she real, me false. For the first time,
being wrapped in feminine clothes, my face coated with color, my body

changed - all of it felt utterly right. Maybe it was the hammer-like
impact of the alcohol, but I wouldn't have changed a thing, and told her
so.

Her eyes filled with tears. "I never expected to hear you say that,
love."

My smile in the mirror was bright. My lips were perfect. "I don't know
- or even care - why you wanted to do this to me. Thank you, Ellen."

6. Chapter - Stepping Out

"You're making me hot again," Ellen told me. She deliberately weighed
her heavy breasts. "See?"

Her nipples were indeed denting the shimmering black lycra dress. "I
noticed," I giggled, the alcohol making me reckless. "Would you like me to
do something about it?"

"You'd do me right here in the bathroom?" she purred.

"I'd do you anywhere you want. You make me hot, too, you know." My lips
were suddenly hungry. I wanted to replace Cindy's aftertaste with Ellen's
more pungent flavor.

"Not yet. Let's get out of here before it gets any worse."

"Worse?" I simpered teasingly, bending over to straighten my hose,
placing my face near her middle. The cascading silvery mane felt
wonderful. I could almost taste the dew certain to be collecting on the
inner surfaces of her labia. With a sudden rush, I remembered that my wife
was wearing no panties beneath that tiny dress, that her sleek, shaved
pussy was naked, mere inches from my saliva filling mouth. I felt my face
flush.

"I want to lick you, Ellen."

"You're d***k, you shameless hussy. I'd better get some food in you.
Come on."

Arm in arm, we re-entered the bar. My pulse was still hammering. I'd
eaten two pussies that day, had two marvelous orgasms, and was feeling
horny all over again. And rash.

The bar was filling. Our return drew eyes. I was already aware of how
beautiful I looked, how sexy in the shape-fitting gold minidress.
Thirty-seven, twenty-two, thirty-five, Cindy had declared with confidence
born of expertise. At five feet two inches, sans the heels, that made me a
knockout. The male eyes touching me didn't feel quite so invasive. The
potent drink had numbed my fear, warmed my libido. It was almost a
disappointment to reach our booth and hide ourselves behind a table.

Ellen leaned forward over it. The underhalf of her fine breasts again
pressed the smooth surface, and her deep cleavage opened to me. Her eyes
were hooded, the way they got when she was aroused. Her nipples were still
erect, must be visible to all our admirers. A stab of envy

pierced me. My latex breast forms, full as they were, felt inadequate.

"Would you like me to order you a snack, darling? Would you like to
stay for a while longer?"

I mechanically sipped the drink she'd pushed to my side of the table. I
was ashamed of my budding, twisted desire. "If you want to." Her face
changed to the look that demanded a real answer. "Yes. I'd like that."

She leaned back, dug for the cigarettes. "Now was that so hard?"

"I guess not." I watched her chest swell as she filled her lungs with
smoke. "Can I, uh, would you mind if I changed my mind about, uh ..."

"Smoking? Of course."

As Ellen's lighter flared in my hand and I hesitantly hollowed my cheeks
around the tobacco, the waitress arrived with another pair of unordered
stingers. "From the gentlemen," she informed us, nodding toward a table of
five businessmen across the room. I didn't like the taste of smoke at all.

My wife turned to smile at the table. "Thank them, Sheila. Give them
your prettiest smile."

My face tightened, my flush deepened. Deliberately smile at five men?
Men, just like me? Well, not quite like me, I admitted. But, wouldn't it
be rude not to - as well as annoying to Ellen? I'd already hurt her,
angered her deeply, and didn't want to risk that again. I knew how
enticing my lush red lips were as I turned up their corners and aimed them
toward the businessmen. As I did, Ellen shocked me. Beneath the table the
toe of one of her towering heels pressed against

my thighs, rubbed slickly over my hose.

My eyes jerked back to her. Her lips were slack. Her breathing was
quick. She'd slid down in her seat. "You're so beautiful," she muttered.
"Spread your legs, baby. Let me in."

My knees were knocking. I tried another puff of smoke. No one could
see, I reasoned. I obeyed her and swallowed a gulp of my drink. Dizzily,
I saw the lipstick coating its rim, marring the white filter of the
cigarette trembling in my hand. My bent-under prick was hard, hurtful,
invisible within the heavy elastic retainer. Her shoe slid smoothly
between my knees, rubbed up and down my inner thigh. With each stroke, it
went higher, its tip dipping under my high hem, nearing the tops of my
hose.

"Stop. Please," I whimpered.

"Am I embarrassing you?"

"Yes."

"Am I exciting you?"

I wet my lips. "Yes."

"Is your little clittie hard? Does it ache?"

My hips wanted to rock. I wanted to slide down so she could reach
higher. "Yes."

She suddenly dropped her foot and sat up. Her succulent mouth shaped an
inviting smile, directed over my shoulder. A deep voice throbbed in my
ear.

"May we join you?"

My entire body tensed. My head jerked toward the sound. Two men from
the distant table, broadly smiling, stood expectantly over us. My ears
were filled with a ringing noise. I barely heard Ellen.

"Of course. Sheila honey, scoot over."

I reflexively did as she commanded, felt the bench seat sag under a
heavy weight, smelled the sharp sting of male cologne over the stench of my
cigarette. A muscular shoulder brushed me as the man arranged himself. I
dared a quick look at my wife. Her heavy-lidded eyes were on me, glittered
mischievously. She'd deliberately set me up. She'd seen this coming.
She'd toyed with me, knowing what was going to happen.

She introduced us. I imagine I smiled mechanically, politely, although
I'll never be positive. The next few minutes are an absolute blank, a deep
hole in my memory. All I recall is a dire sense of panic. I was trapped
in the booth. I couldn't escape. There was nowhere to go. My glass was
suddenly empty. There was what I guess was a fresh cigarette burning
between my curved fingernails. Ellen's tall heel was sensuously rubbing my
ankle. My eyes on the table, I still saw her lean toward her gentleman,
watched her pendulous breast flatten against his bicep for a moment.
Beside me was a man. I darted my eyes up at him and he caught them. His
gaze spoke silent volumes. How desirable I was. How much he wished he
could kiss me, touch me. Fuck me.

Another round of drinks arrived. There was no food. The unaccustomed
alcohol was bringing me out of my shock. Ellen was flirting with both men.
Not outrageously, but encouraging them nonetheless. She was gently teasing
me about being so shy - recently divorced, she explained, and way out of
practice. She'd had to drag me out, she laughed musically. I wondered if
her pun was intentional, decided it was. She'd proven her genius.
Everything she did was intentional. What did she intend to happen next?
Her hand dropped to the man's suit sleeve. Her eyes were locked with his.
My throat tightened. Would she fuck him? Would she make me ...

My voice was shrill. It seemed to explode into the natural flow of
conversation. "Excuse me. I have to use the rest room. Ellen?" It was a
raw, desperate plea.

"Already?" she drawled. Her companion slid out. Mine patted my thigh,
let his hand linger for an instant before he moved. "Hurry back." His
breath puffed against my overheated cheek.

The drinks hit me like a truck the second I stood. The man who'd freed
me from the prison of the booth - Larry, I think his name was - caught me,
or I might have toppled off my heels. It was how he performed the
chivalrous gesture that was notable. He gathered me into his strong arms
like a lover. He didn't hold me tightly or lewdly, but did press against
me from breast to thigh. My thoroughly warmed latex tits must have been
convincingly soft. Through my spinning dizziness, I felt his erection on
my hip.

I fumblingly pushed away from him, but he kept his hands on my
shoulders, steadying me. The earth slowed its nauseating spin. Ellen was
standing beside me, wearing a wry red grin. She took my elbow and guided
my wobble toward the rest room. Her grip on my arm was painfully tight.
The instant the door closed behind us, she pushed me against the wall
length vanity. Her voice was a raw hiss.

"What the fuck's going on, Sheila? First you pout and sulk like a
little k** because I invited two gentlemen to sit with us, then you leap
into the guy's arms like a horny teenager."

"I'm d***k," I slurred. "I fell."

"My ass! It was deliberate as hell!"

"No!" I wailed. "I hate this, Ellen! All I want to do is go home!"

She sucked smoke savagely, spat it back out. "Maybe you'd like it if we
took them with us? You'd like to fuck him, wouldn't you?"

I shook my head so wildly that I staggered. I felt the tears gathering
in my eyes. "Don't say that. You know it's not true. Please don't be mad
at me. You know I can't drink."

"No one's been forcing you, bitch."

"I'm scared. It ... I ..."

She suddenly relented, hugged me, petted my silvery mane. It felt good
to be comforted. I nestled into her arms, lowered my head to her shoulder.
Her voice was soothing. "This's happening too fast for you, isn't it? All
these new sensations, these new feelings. It must be

very confusing."

I nodded meekly, sighed from the pit of my soul. The smell of smoke
mingled with her perfume to form an earthy scent.

"And," she chuckled, "I guess I did forget to order you something to
eat. Tell you what. Let's go back out there and make excuses and get out
of here. Okay?"

"Thank you, Ellen!"

"But I want you to do something for me first."

"Of course!"

"I want you to kiss him goodbye. A nice long kiss, like you mean it."

I lifted my wobbly head. My eyes were big as saucers and I'm sure my
pouty mouth hung open in shock. I started to ask her if she was serious,
but there was ice gleaming in her eyes. I dropped my gaze. I'd screwed up
so many times today that I'd lost count. I owed her whatever repayment she
demanded. I'd promised.

I barely heard my own voice. "You really want me to?"

"I do. Open your mouth. Use your tongue. I'll kiss mine, too - but
I'll be watching you. It'll make my cunt gush down my legs. It'll be fun
to watch them fall all over themselves, honey. They'll beg us to go out
with them. We'll give them a fake phone number, then I'll get you home and
feed you and sober you up. Deal?"

"I guess."

"Look at me," she demanded throatily, wiggling her skirt up, baring her
garters, then her naked cunt. "Look how fucking wet you make me, baby.
You turn me on so much it's killing me. I'm not hot because of those good
looking men. I'm dripping because I love watching you, Sheila.

Feel it, baby. Feel how wet I am."

I numbly reached down and rubbed her labia with a slender finger. She
purred, rocked her hips and took it a little inside. She was so slick, so
ready.

"That's what I want to kiss," I heard myself say. "That's where I want
my tongue."

She took a step back, her eyes deep pools of desire. "Not now. In the
car. On the way home. Just pretend his mouth is my cunt." She stretched
the black dress down over her hips, hiding her beautiful pussy.

She made me look at myself in the mirror. A reality check, she called
it. My own passion was as visible as my wife's. My nipples couldn't get
hard like hers, but my face reflected it just as deeply. Guiltily, I
smelled the finger that had caressed her. Her chuckle at my gesture was
low.

"Let's go do it," she said, "and get out of here before I **** you on
the spot."

Her left tit rubbed my right arm on the voyage back. I watched the
table approach, saw both men stand politely. They really were good
looking guys. Their suits were expensive. They were polite to a flaw, and
just a little forward. But then we looked like the kind of women who were
asking for male advances, so that was to be expected.

Ellen paused as we approached. "Sheila's not feeling well," I heard her
drone. We had to go. Disappointed noises from both. Ellen took us a step
closer. My eyes were locked on the one who'd picked me. Well trimmed dark
hair. Gleaming white teeth. Much taller than I was, and

vastly more muscular.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Ellen respond to the other one's faint
invitation and lean toward him. I mimicked her, refusing to think.

He gathered me up like I was a precious treasure. He enfolded me in
arms far more powerful than any I'd been in. His head bent toward mine and
my lips parted, just as they would have for Ellen. My arms went around his
waist.

His mouth was hard. His face was slightly scratchy. His tongue was
quick, agile, demanding. He ground his face against mine and took my mouth
with his own. There was no way I could pretend it was my wife. His
swollen groin was tight against my belly. When I pulled away, he

relented, released me. My lipstick decorated him like an indelible
stain, yet it vanished completely as he transferred it to his white silk
handkerchief. Did he have a wife who'd notice it, I wondered

stupidly, then tore my eyes away.

Ellen was completing the lie. Her desire-bruised lips were slightly
blurred, just as mine must be. I could make no sense of her words, just
waited patiently for her to finish. My man was saying something. I smiled
mechanically, my thundering pulse drowning out all sound. When Ellen
turned, so did I. We made our escape.

All I remember about the long trip back to the car is the way my body
moved. The plug buried in my ass caressed me with every short stride. My
hips felt loose, and I knew they swayed sexily. I didn't care. I felt my
breast forms bounce every time my high heels jarred against the

terrazzo floor. I felt the breeze of my movement lick my sleek thighs,
my long hair tickle my shoulders, the faint weight of the heavy earrings.
The corset's tightness was reassuring. My stone hard little cock, aimed
toward my warm ass cheeks, rubbed slightly between my thighs. I was as
d***k on sensation as I was on liquor.

I remember more about the drive home. I vividly recall burying my face
between Ellen's wantonly spread thighs as she sat behind the wheel. I knew
the windows were tinted and that my act would be unseen, but I'd have done
it anyway. I sucked and nibbled her through two restrained orgasms and was
working toward a third by the time we achieved the garage. She d**g me
away from her gaping cunt long enough to slide the seat back, then fucked
my face with crazed abandon, beating my chin with her hips. I don't think
she was even aware she was speaking.

"Oh, fuck me with that slutty tongue, baby. Stick it deep in me, just
like you did Cindy's nasty little hole. I almost died when you came out
with your clit and balls dangling down and your cum still in your hot
little whore's mouth. I saw how you kissed that guy, cunt. You loved it.
You let him tongue fuck your mouth, didn't you, you nasty little slut? You
felt how hard you made his big cock, didn't you? Every time you smoked, it
was like you were sucking a dick. The way you strutted through the mall
turned you on, didn't it? It made you feel like a tramp, didn't it? You
loved every minute of the whole fucking day, didn't you, baby?"

There was more. It was like each accusation, each question drove me
deeper into her slick slit. It was all true, every word of it. And I
wasn't ashamed. I felt no guilt. She was proud of me. This was what she
wanted. Atop my lust was an overlay of gratitude. I trusted her. She
knew what I wanted, what I needed. When she finally exploded, she did so
with v******e. She twisted my head, crushed my skull, jerked madly on my
hair. I felt my own orgasm trying to fill my panties, and somehow managed
to deny it. She hadn't given me permission.

The instant she threw me away from her, I rawly begged her to let me
finish myself. I was writhing with need, had to made fists of my hands to
keep them from my silky center.

Ellen sprawled obscenely against the driver's door, her dress around her
waist, her heavy tits exposed. Her nipples were immense. Her cunt lips
still pulsed. Her makeup was intact, although she'd gotten lipstick on her
teeth from biting her lower lip. She stared at me, had trouble lighting a
cigarette.

"Put your feet on the dashboard," she growled. "Open your legs as far
as you can."

I scrambled to do what she wanted.

"Reach down and show me your clit."

I jerked the panties away, loosed my purpled member from the restrainer,
displayed it, gasping, trying not to blow at the wonderful thrills created
by my touches.

"Bend forward as far as you can, slut. Try to suck it. Jack yourself
off. Shoot straight into your mouth."

I couldn't f***e the corset to bend much more and I whined in
frustration. She helped me, grabbing my ankles, forcing my knees higher.
It felt like I was being cut in half.

"Open those slimy lips, whore, and do it."

Two seconds later, I erupted. A gout of sperm splatted against my
forehead. A second struck my lower lip. The third landed on my heaving
chest. The rest simply drooled over my pumping fist. The instant she
released me, I started scooping up the fragrant, warm cum, eating it like
it was my favorite candy, wishing there was more.

"Good, baby," she cooed, "but not good enough. Let's get you inside.
I've got something I need to show you."

7. Chapter - Home Sweet Home

Later - much later, emotionally, if not by the clock - Ellen helped me
to bed. I needed every bit of assistance I could get. I'd been tied in a
position similar to, though more relaxed than the torturous bent forward
stance she'd employed the night before, and she'd taught me two very
important lessons. I was more accustomed to the squeeze of the corset and
the angle of the high heels, so that part of it wasn't nearly as agonizing.
The rest of the punishment, though, was much

more vicious than merely being spanked.

Ellen's first exercise was designed to illustrate how to suck cock. She
employed a strap-on dildo, one end of which was buried in the denuded cunt
still bearing my lipstick, and demanded that I perform fellatio on her
until my jaws ached and the back of my mouth was raw.

Begging her not to abuse my throat had proven worse than useless. As
she tapped her false cock against my sealed red lips, she reminded me of my
vow to do anything to earn her forgiveness. Would I prefer it if she went
to some bar and picked up a stranger equipped with the real thing and
brought him home for me? She'd be happy to drop to her knees in front of
me and lick its length, kiss its swollen head, and demonstrate first hand
how it should be done, if I wanted that. My answer was to part my lips and
ask her to tell me what to do.

The second lesson was how to take the same device, thickly greased, up
my stretched asshole. Relax, she'd urged as she pushed into me, and enjoy
it. The physical pain was much less than I expected. The butt plug must
have opened me up quite well, and the alcohol had deadened me. The
emotional trauma was much more severe.

My wife fucked my virgin ass - my cunt, she called it, her throat
clogged with lust - until the pressure of the dildo against her clit made
her cum. By then I was so delirious that I could almost feel the rubber
dong pulse and ripple in my gut as if it was expelling a huge load of sperm
deep into me.

Both were punishment for my slutty behavior at the beauty salon,
fulfillment of her earlier vow to treat me like a whore if I acted like
one. After her orgasm had eased, she gently withdrew her cock from me and
wiped it clean. As she used the warm, damp cloth to remove the messy
lubricant from my fiery red lower cheeks, she reached beneath me and
fondled my engorged cock, murmuring that I'd earned a reward. My hips
resumed the thrust they'd learned while she'd fucked me, and I watched
enthralled from between my spread, chained, hose clad legs, as her hand
glided over my long flesh, massaging it against the latex prick, heated by
my bowels and still strapped to her. I shrieked as I came, shooting my
jism all over her hand and the dildo.

When she moved back to my head, she didn't need to order me to lick the
shaft and her hand clean. That I was hungrily licking real cum from a cock
shaped toy was an irony that wasn't wasted on me.

Again I slept on the floor, chained to the bed frame, dressed in the
loosened corset and a different teddy. Ellen had coaxed my stunned brain
through the laborious process of removing all my makeup, explaining that it
wasn't good for my complexion to sl**p in it, and showing me exactly how I
needed to care for my skin. I voided my violated bowels and easily
returned the ass plug to its home. In my exhaustion, even my
color-stripped face looked wholly female. I still

felt d***k, or d**gged. I wondered why I hadn't seen how feminine my
were features before, how I had truly been a woman awaiting her rebirth all
my life.

I silently cried myself to sl**p, not because I was pain wracked from
her violation of me, not due to the cruelty of having every possible trace
of my masculinity erased - but because I'd loved almost everything that'd
happened to me, the whole day long. My thoughts weren't about how I could
restore myself back into maleness after my two week surprise vacation
ended, but rather to pray that I could somehow extend it forever.

It'd taken Ellen just over thirty-six hours to reveal, to myself and the
world at large, a side of myself I'd barely dared to even fantasize about.
While I'd sneakily worn her panties and dresses, this was what I'd wanted.
It'd been too horrifying, too perverse to admit, even in the darkest
recesses of my mind.

Even as I was wracked by silent sobs, I was wondering what my wife had
in mind for the next day. I knew that, no matter what I said, no matter
how strenuously I objected, I'd welcome whatever she made me do, no matter
how degrading.

My eagerness had passed by morning. The pain that hadn't been there the
night before throbbed in my ass, burned in the back of my mouth. My
calves, feet, and the small of my back were incredibly sore from wearing
the tall heels all day. My scalp itched like mad under the

permanently affixed wig. I had a hangover that felt like some insane
blacksmith was at work at an anvil between my ears. My stomach growled
with both hunger and nausea.

When Ellen released me, she didn't bother with shackles. I staggered
into the bathroom barefoot to take care of essential business. Unlike the
morning before, I couldn't bring myself to stand to urinate. I told myself
that was because I was so sick, and knew it was a lie. I sat on the toilet
ring because it would've been too shameful to act like I was still a man.
My penis and testicles were the only part of me that looked male, and I
couldn't bear the thought of peeing the old way. It would've been
shamefully hypocritical, a senseless denial of what had already become my
reality.

A long hot soak in a fragrant tub eased my physical woes, and a real, if
low-fat, breakfast lessened my psychic ones. Ellen weighed me. I was
astonished to see that I'd already lost five pounds. Her warning that the
next fifteen would be harder wasn't lost on me. I swallowed

my big "vitamin" with mixed feelings. I'd become aware how the large
dose of hormones had already affected my body. Part of me wished I could
swallow the entire bottle and accelerate the changes taking place. The
other part was ashamed to tears of that perverse desire.

She had me dress in the black corset, but left it moderately loose, and
had me cover it with the first casual clothes I'd worn in what seemed
forever. The new designer jeans were satisfyingly tight, and the three
inch heels were as easy to move in as tennis shoes had been in my old life.
I thought the green cotton blouse was flattering with the gold choker in
place of the leather collar I'd been wearing for the last two days. The
only makeup she allowed me was lipstick and mascara, which I had to do
myself.

I was still a pretty young woman, but one more suited to keeping house
than teasing cock at the mall. With rubber gloves protecting my too-long
nails, I set about cleaning the house with more gusto than I'd ever felt
before.

It was a purely domestic day, as were most of the two which followed.
There were no outrageous outside adventures. No shopping. No drinks at
bars. No scenes with other women - or men.

Ellen developed a routine for me. There were exercises designed to
limber me as well as work off pounds, without building ugly muscles. There
were daily lessons in feminine behavior and voice sessions every afternoon.
I gave myself two enemas every day. While grocery shopping

- our only trip out of the house during those three quiet days - my wife
bought me a videotape on cosmetics and demanded I memorize it, as well as
read every magazine article I could find on the same topic.

My feminine lifestyle quickly became second nature. I got so used to my
long silvery hair that I couldn't imagine having ever been without it. I
found I could do everything with my long painted nails that I'd done
before. The aches in my leg and back muscles eased and being

without high heels didn't feel normal. During rare moments without
breast forms and a butt plug, I felt like I'd been stripped of vital parts
of myself.

That was one of the most effective ways Ellen punished me. After
breaking one of our wedding wine glasses while unloading the dishwasher,
she angrily took off all my clothes and made me continue my chores nude
except for five inch heels and heavy rubber gloves. I hated the way my
cock and balls dangled, slapped against my smooth, hairless thighs with
every step. I felt fat and ugly with no corset to give me the lovely shape
I identified with. After an hour, I was in

tears, begging her to let me stretch my retainer over my male organs and
lace me back into a corset.

She was lounging in a hot bath while I cleaned the toilet and tile
floor. "You've broken something irreplaceable, Sheila. We toasted one
another with that glass at our wedding reception. After having destroyed a
symbol of our marriage, you ask me to lighten your punishment?"

"Just change it," I said in my more refined female voice. "Please,
Ellen. This is too ... too -"

"Humiliating? Disgraceful?" she mocked.

I nodded, unable to meet her eyes.

"If I let you start making amends, will you do everything I say for the
rest of the day without hesitation? No matter what it is?"

"Yes! I promise!"

She lay in the steaming water with her eyes closed for a moment. A
smile grew on her face. "Run to the vanity and bring back your favorite
lipstick, doll."

I took her order literally. Running in the tall heels was more scamper
than trot, but I'd become used to their limitations.

"Lay on your back on the floor."

The tile was cold.

"Raise your knees and spread your legs so you can see your clit. Good
girl. Take off your gloves. Now paint it with the lipstick. All of it. I
want it to be fuscia from top to bottom."

I stretched it, stroked the tube of vivid color up and down. It
hardened as I did, exposing yet more surface area to be coated. She
climbed from the tub, stood at my feet as I finished.

"Do your mouth, baby. Smear it on heavy."

The chills racing through me weren't caused by the cool floor. I ran
the lipstick over my mouth again and again until she nodded approval.

"Now jack off, bitch." She grabbed my ankles and bent me double, pushing
my knees as wide as they'd go. My shaft felt greasy in my palm, which was
instantly coated with bright color. She strained my back and neck muscles
until they screamed with pain, leaning all her weight on my comma shaped
body, forcing my cock closer and closer to my face.

"Pull your plug, cunt. Fuck your ass with the lipstick. No! Leave the
cap off the tube!"

The plug came out with the usual wet sensation. It was larger than the
lipstick, which slid easily inside my loosened hole. I held it so I could
see the dark plastic holder go in and out. My hand was a blur on my dick.
Slowly, my strained muscles let it come still closer to my slick red lips.

"Lick it, whore."

I strained my tongue as far as possible, but it wasn't far enough. I
was an inch away from the smeared, swollen purplish- red tip.

"Cum, lover. Shoot every drop right in your slutty little mouth."

As if her command was enough to make me explode, I did precisely what
she demanded. The closeup sight of my expanding, pulsing prick, the vision
of the first gout of sperm being expelled, the shocking sensation of my cum
spattering inside my gaping mouth - these factors seemed to quadruple the
intensity of my orgasm, send me into a realm beyond anything I'd ever
imagined. At that instant, my tongue somehow managed to make contact with
my leaping cock.

Something happened deep within my soul. Something irreversible. It was
like an electrical circuit had been closed, a psychic switch flipped. An
all new energy burned through me. It was entirely my imagination, but I
felt the whole length of my dick slide between my lips, into my mouth, down
my throat. All this in the split second before the second burst of cum hit
my hard palate, instantly followed by the third and fourth. By then, my
entire body was involved in the

mind-boggling climax. My ass was spasming around the lipstick tube,
squeezing it like a pussy does a cock. My hips were desperately trying to
fuck my mouth.

As the surges began to fade, my universe expanded beyond my body. I
heard my harsh gasps for air, Ellen's thick voiced encouragements. The
heel of one of my red shoes was buried in her cunt. But, above all, the
wonderful ripeness of my cum coated my mouth and tongue and soul.

I'd been made whole. A single touch of tongue to cock had made all the
difference in the world.

I caught the last oozes and dribbles in my cupped palm, milked my staff
with my lipstick covered fist, and licked it clean with a voracious hunger.
I'd stepped over a precipice and was still falling. My taste had been
whetted, not appeased. I wanted more - craved a steady flow of sperm down
my throat, not the teasing appetizer I'd given myself. I knew I'd gone mad
and I welcomed it.

Ellen disrupted my delirious reverie by lifting herself off my spike
heel and dropping my rubbery legs. She fell atop me, her hips thrusting
incoherently against my shrinking dick, her lips devouring mine, her tongue
frantic to share the flavor of my sperm. I felt the lipstick tube slip
from my ass. I opened my jaws to my wife, letting her lap from my cavity
like a dog does from a bowl. She too was cumming, using my spent rod to
rub her clit.

When she abruptly jerked away from me, her face bore an expression that
was as crazed as mine must have been. Her voice was low and raw. "Wash
the slime off your face and hands, whore. Leave everything else exactly as
it is and have your nasty ass in the bedroom in three

minutes."

She bolted from the bathroom like a berserker before I could move.
Every muscle in my body was relaxed. Pushing myself to my knees took a
massive effort. But I could almost hear a clock ticking off the seconds in
my head. I was infected by her wild energy. I scrubbed at my face and
hands, whining with frustration at the stubbornness of the lipstick's
stains.

I had no idea if I met her deadline. Neither did Ellen. She was
throwing clothes at the bed as I hurried on wobbly legs into the bedroom.

"Get dressed, you sleazy cunt."

I tried to be careful not to smear my lipsticked cock and ass on my
hands as I arranged my organs in the tight grip of the retainer. I
squirmed into the red corset while she lit a cigarette and stared at me
through narrowed, smoldering eyes. I rolled up equally red hose, stepped
into scarlet bikini panties. I looked around for an ass plug. There was
none. I looked at her helplessly, seeking guidance.

She grabbed the laces of the corset and began hooking me into it. Never
had she used such strength, restrained me so impossibly tight. Even
without the gel filled breast forms, my tit flesh bulged into the cups. My
nipples were nearly as swollen as my wife's. And I wished it was tighter
still. I ached for my tits to fill the cups to overflowing.

She tied me off and roughly pushed me toward the vanity. "Paint
yourself, slut. We're going out. We're going to get you laid for real.
Make yourself look like the whore you are, Sheila. If you don't use enough
makeup, I'll make you watch while some real man drills my cunt, then make
you lick his cum out of me."

I was utterly infected. I wanted that. I wanted to lay helplessly
beside her while a long fat prick drilled her wet pussy. I wanted to hear
her cries, watch her humping, spasming body. My mouth watered at the
thought of tasting her cum mixed with someone's sperm. It would've

been more like reward than punishment.

I created a face just as slutty as she wanted because I wanted it as
much as she did - maybe even more. I felt hollow, empty. I was going to
be fucked. By a man.

"Good," she growled, rubbing her cunt against the back of my head. She
ran a dildo over my cheek. "Use this on yourself while I do my makeup.
Don't even think about cumming again."

I flopped on the bed, curled my sexy legs to my chest and stroked the
long thin rubber cock in and out of my lipstick slickened ass while I
watched her. It was good. Very good.

I won't lie. I won't claim that everything that happened that night was
because of Ellen's dominance. That had nothing to do with it. I did it
all on my own. My mind remained filled with a haze as thick as my cum. It
allowed only surreal images of twisted lust to take shape. I was
possessed.

I spoke the name of the notorious bi-sexual bar through lips too heavy
with lipstick and gloss. I drove us there while she used the dildo on her
gushing pussy. I licked it clean after each of her two orgasms. I asked
her for a cigarette after we parked, after I'd freshened my wet red lips,
just before I led our pranced entrance. I sucked smoke as I scanned the
crowd, found us a table. I crossed my legs so anyone who cared to got a
good look at my long thighs.

I was completely devoid of shame. I selected and rejected my dance
partners, seeking just the right man. I found him after about a half hour.
I forgot about Ellen, who was on the dance floor dry fucking some guy. I
was at the table, working on my second drink and my third cigarette. I
wanted him the moment he sat in my wife's empty chair. My half hard clit
lurched toward the crack of my ass. My lips ached to be crushed under his,
and I unabashedly let him know it.

He wanted to dance first. I felt his cock swell against my belly as I
pressed into him. It was for me. His cum was for me. I wrapped my arms
around his neck and strained against him. I stood on tiptoe and claimed
his mouth, drove my tongue between his parted lips exactly like I wanted
his prick to take me. He finally got the idea. I was no nice girl playing
the dating game. I was a wanton slut who only wanted his meat.

Ellen had guided her partner near us and caught my eye. Her hand was
openly rubbing her man's cock. Her mouth was smeared. Her nipples were
twin bullets trying to tear through her black cocktail dress. Her
gyrations on the dance floor had raised her skirt high enough to expose

the tops of her hose. Her eyes were glowing embers, drilling into me.

I was looking at her while I licked my date's ear and whispered into it.
"I want to suck your cock. I need your cum."

I led him to our car, pushed him into the back seat. My quaking hand
was on his zipper before he was settled against the far door. When I felt
the heat of his long, stiff, smooth cock in my hands, I froze. A wild
thrill ripped up my spine, exploded against the top of my skull, s**ttering
hot sparks everywhere. Time slowed. I watched my lovely hands drag it out
into view. My little fists encircled it, traveled its length, measured its
girth. My mouth filled with saliva. This was

it. The time had come. My head was pulled toward his lap by an
irresistible f***e.

I already knew what it'd feel like, taste like, look like. There were
no surprises. Far, far back, in the dark corners of my mind, I'd imagined
this all my life. Since puberty, I'd craved this. My passion-heavy red
lips met the tip of his prick, kissed it tenderly, like a long lost lover.

I knew what to do. I knew how to make him as crazy with need as I was.
No born-woman could know what I did about how to please a man.

I made love to a disembodied cock, not the nameless man it was attached
to. I licked and sucked and kissed. I ran him into and out of my mouth,
fondling his heavy, hairy balls, flirting with his ass, occasionally
gasping and shuddering and having to just jack him off as I was consumed
with wild ecstasy.

He came too soon. I almost missed it. I had to lunge down on him as
his groans suddenly changed tone, as I felt his dick harden yet more and
begin its preliminary twitching. My head bobbed up and down, taking as
much splendor into my mouth as I could manage.

When the first gush came, I was ready. I tightened my lips on him and
began my own orgasm as his seed hit the top of my throat with marvelous
f***e. I wanted to remember each pulse, each gout, each choked swallow -
but I lost track. Specifics faded beneath the groundswell of my

fulfillment. All I recall is drinking him dry, trying to suck him hard
again, and being pushed away.

He was too sensitive, he said. I was hurting him. I didn't care. I
wanted that fine prick in my readied ass. It was literally pulsing with
need. And he wasn't interested. I watched in angry disbelief as he put
his cock away. He said he wasn't into being watched and slipped out the
door behind him.

That was the first indication I had of my wife's presence. I swept my
hair out of my eyes and looked over my shoulder. She was leaning against
the car next to ours fingering her cunt, pinching her carelessly bared
tits. I leaned into the front seat, grabbed the dildo she'd left laying
there. I held it out to her, positioned myself on all fours on the seat.

Ellen lurched forward and took over. The second she drove it between my
ass cheeks, I came again. She blocked my raw scream with her hand and
fucked me with just the savagery I needed. She kept it up even after my
arms collapsed, dropping my face onto the upholstery. She

continued, using both hands, while the seat muffled my choked sobs and
wails. I'm nearly positive I had yet a third orgasm before her arms tired,
but by then I was reduced to delirium. My hips had a life of their own,
kept rolling and thrusting long after the dildo squirted from my hungry
hole and clunked to the floorboard.

8. Chapter - Aftermath

I recall nothing more until Ellen slapped me awake. She was standing
impatiently outside the opened car door.

"Wake up, slut. Time for bed."

I was still in the back seat, but the car was now in our garage. I was
on my back, my knees lifted, with the long dildo hugged tight to my chest.
I awoke with full knowledge of where we'd been, what I'd done. I sucked a
harsh breath and groaned when I tried to move. My ass felt

like the dildo was still inside, heated white hot. The man's cum was
sour in my mouth. An emotion was building in me that I couldn't name.

I saw the next slap coming, but was too sluggish to avoid it.

"I said move, goddamn it!"

I moved. I dragged myself upright. Clambering out of the car and
finding my balance took enormous energy. My compressed, underclad body
weighed tons. I wasn't fast enough for her.

My wife grabbed my long tangled mane and jerked hard. I staggered after
her, off balance, bent forward, flailing my arms to keep from falling.

"You're hurting me," I whined piteously. The back of my mouth was sore
and my jaws ached.

Her only response was to bark a nasty laugh and walk more quickly. The
kitchen again. This time I knew exactly why I was being punished, and
offered no resistance as she put my ankles in a spreader bar I'd never seen
before, cuffed my hands behind me and lifted them toward the

ceiling, bending me into a right angle. She left me there. I was
afraid that I'd collapse and dislocate my shoulders. I hadn't even managed
to adjust to the position before she returned, carrying a full length
mirror. She lowered it to the floor and slid it under me, between my
widely spread legs.

She lit a cigarette. She'd repaired her beautifully sexy face somewhere
along the line. She didn't seem as angry. "Look at yourself, Sheila. I
never want you to forget this."

I was stunned, as if she'd slapped me again. First, of course, I saw my
face. My tangled platinum blonde hair hung down, framing my totally ruined
heavy makeup. My eyes were surrounded by wide black circles of blurred
eyeliner and mascara. The remaining deep emerald and rust eyeshadow looked
bland. My lips looked bruised, were ringed with a wide smear that was all
that remained of my thick lipstick. My false tits looked huge with my
shoulders pinned back. The hem of my wrinkled red minidress had risen, but
I'd have been able to see all the way up anyway from this angle. Where had
the little red panties gone? My retainer dug into the soft flesh of my
groin, hugging my male organs into invisibility. The pale, slim thighs
below were caked with dried cum. My vision swam for a moment. I thought
it was his, that there was a beautiful cunt hidden in there, that it'd
leaked the some of the sperm he'd shot so deeply into my soul.

The stark light of the camera's flash attachment as Ellen photographed
me from every angle jerked me back toward reality.

"Pose for me, baby. Push that great butt out. Can you see how red it
is around your asshole? You were fucked good, whore. Too bad it wasn't
the real thing in there. It'd have felt as good as it did in your throat.
But you know that, right? You wanted it, but the fucker let you down,
didn't he?"

I nodded, remembered to add a verbal "Yes," as well.

"But you know there'll be other times. Any bitch as hot as you are can
get fucked anytime you want. And a nympho cunt like you will want it a
lot. You'll have so many dicks shoved in that tight ass and between those
cocksucking lips that you'll lose count of them."

She fed me the cigarette. I watched my lips suck it, my chest expand as
much as it could given my restraints, then my mouth purse as I exhaled. I
felt her doing something to my left hand, realized she was removing my
wedding band. I'd noted its incongruity once or twice. As

Ellen twisted it off my finger, I realized just how wrong it was to wear
it any longer. Women don't wear wide gold bands. They can't be married
other women in our state. I tried and failed to blink away a rush of
tears. Suddenly, the name of the dull emotion filling me had a name.

It was grief. I was mourning my own death. Ellen's husband was dead,
gone forever. Shamelessly begging to suck that cock, thrilling to each and
every sensation, had sealed his fate, made his resurrection, not merely
unlikely, but impossible. I was Sheila now, body and soul.

I was surprised to feel her doing something else to my ring finger. A
new ring, lighter, thinner, slipped over my knuckle. I strained my neck
but couldn't see it. She slid her hand down my back, cupped my ass cheeks
and petted them.

"How much money do we have in savings?"

Her finger distracted me as it toyed with my tender asshole. Her
question made no sense for a moment. I sniffed away tears enough to speak.
"I, uh, about two thousand, I guess."

"Good. That'll get us started."

"Started?"

"You want real tits, don't you? They cost money, darling. More like
five thousand than two, I think."

Her finger dipped inside me. My eyes locked on the reflection of my
chest in the mirror. Real tits. Nice big, firm mounds hanging there. To
overflow my slinky bras. To fill a bikini top on the beach. To be petted,
sucked and bitten.

Her voice was dim in my ears. She inserted a second finger. "Umm. I
knew that'd turn you on, slut. We'll shave your larynx and change your
voice while we're at it. Maybe someday we'll be able to buy you a nice
tight cunt, too. Have a doctor gut that useless prick and tuck it away

inside you. You'd have three holes, whore. Room for three cocks at the
same time. You'd like that. Three men fucking you. Hands all over you,
driving you crazy with lust."

Her other hand rubbed my too big clit while her fingers wiggled within
me. I was thrusting against her, watching my sleazy lips pant as my
passion again spiraled toward a new peak.

"Oh, honey," I groaned weakly. "Oh, shit. Fuck me, Ellen. Put
something big and fat in me. Something hot and hard. I need it, honey. I
need it bad."

She laughed merrily. "I've got just the thing. I've been saving it for
a special time like this. Ron? Baby, come on in here."

I saw my shock in the mirror more than I felt it. Ron? We had a
neighbor named Ron. A body-builder our age. Married to a dull, silent
girl named Miriam.

Before I could even shape the question in my mind, it was answered. I
saw a pair of hairy, pillar-like legs approach. Barefoot.

"Take over up here," she purred throatily, withdrawing her fingers from
my ass. "I'll get you ready."

Thicker fingers replaced hers, entered me without delicacy. I saw Ellen
sink to her knees, peer at me from between my legs. She licked her
gleaming scarlet lips. Her hands weighed a huge, hairy pair of balls,
massaged a growing cock. Without taking her eyes off me, she kissed its
swelling head, licked it with a lascivious tongue.

"Yeah, I've been fucking Ron for almost a year, Sheila. I love you, but
your puny prick was never enough for me. Fucking you was always more like
screwing a woman with a cock than being with a real man."

Ron laughed at that, making his dick leap in her hand. She gave it a
more lingering kiss, allowing the whole head to enter her mouth, and
moaning around it. Saliva and lipstick clung to it as she let it pop out.

"We fucked with you right in the next room lots of times, Sheila. We
were doing it in the pool house at the Robinson's party when I told him how
much you got off sneaking around in my lingerie. He was the one who
suggested that we bring you out of the closet, cunt. He saw you

staring at his crotch a couple of times and knew how much you'd love
fucking other guys. He helped me plan the whole thing. He deserves a good
fuck, don't you think? He deserves to be the first to dump a wad in your
ass. Give him a good ride, baby."

She guided his swollen, slickened dick between my cheeks. Her eyes
glittered and her lips were parted as she teased me, rubbing the head
around my puckered hole. What she said was true. I'd noticed the size of
his manhood with what I thought was shameful envy. Now I knew

better. It was desire.

My hole was slick and ready. I tried to push against Ron's hard on.
Ellen backed his cock away, continued her maddening flirtation. "Tell him
what you want, Sheila."

I knew I was doing exactly as she'd said I would. I was begging to be
ass fucked. Without hesitation, I let my needs roll from my slutty mouth.
"Fuck me, Ron. Fuck my ass hard and deep. Please. Give me what you've
been giving Ellen. Cum in me. I need you. I've wanted you ever since I
watched you move in last year. Ram that fat cock all the way in and fuck
me like a whore."

It was nothing like the dildos Ellen had impaled in me. It was hot,
both hard and silky soft - alive! And, it was huge. As he thrust in that
first few inches, I felt myself stretching, and was filled with a burning
agony. If I could have spoken then, I'd have been begging him to stop. I
couldn't. My lips gaped, made a horrified red circle in the mirror. My
heavily made up eyes were huge. Ron yelled in pain and slapped my ass with
a hard, resounding smack. "Relax, cunt! You're hurting me!"

I gasped for breath tried to concentrate on doing what he said. I must
have achieved it, because he slid in deeper, then began a slow pumping.
Each push lessened the pain. The heat of him, the overwhelming fullness of
my ass, felt unlike anything I'd ever known. The mirror

showed his thick shaft disappearing and emerging from my body. Ellen
looked as enraptured as I was. She had one hand in her cunt, was making
wet noises with her fingers. She used the other to alternately hold her
lover's balls and caress my hidden ones.

Overcome with lust, Ron gave up on gentleness. He took my narrow hips
in his hands and pushed hard, forcing the last half of his meat all the way
in. He started slamming into my ass then, without concern for my comfort.
After three of four of his grunting thrusts, I no longer cared. It still
hurt, but the pain became secondary. The sights and sounds and sensations
transported me, mutated the agony, changed it to joy. I started wiggling
my hips, pushed back to greet his plunging cock. I was fucking my wife's
lover, not merely being fucked by him.

It lasted forever and was over too soon. I don't remember Ellen jerking
my retainer off my male organs. I don't know when she started sucking my
straining clit. But I do know that when Ron's pace became frantic, when
his impacts started jarring my teeth and I was positive he was going to
fill me with his cum, I exploded in my wife's hungry mouth with enough
f***e to gag her.

But, glorious as that was, it paled in significance when Ron blew his
wad in my guts. I closed my eyes. I swear to god I felt his jerking spew
all the way to my throat. I milked him, did my best to squeeze every drop
of his precious sperm from him.

As his pulsing diminished, I felt soft lips on mine, tasted the tangy
cum coating them. I returned Ellen's impassioned kiss, sucked my cum from
her full mouth.

Finally, I was whole.

"Thank you," I murmured into her mouth, making our kiss tender, more
loving than I'd known a kiss could be.

My knees were too weak to support me. When they collapsed, my shoulders
were wrenched hideously. Had Ron not still been gripping my hips, I'd have
dislocated them both. He held me up, his cock shrinking rapidly in my ass,
while Ellen stumbled to her feet and dashed for the

rope. As she released it, our lover lowered me to the cold mirror. I
felt his jism leaking from my hole, warm and sticky, as he pulled out. One
of them freed my arms from the handcuffs.

I lay there on my side, frail and helpless, while Ellen and Ron
embraced. Her hand massaged his limp dick while he crushed her against him
and she strained against his hard lips.

She tore her mouth from his. "I want you," she growled. "It's my
turn." She jerked her head to face me. "Get him hard for me, slut."

She led him by the dick to me, pushed him down toward my face. I bathed
his spent flesh in hot, wet, hungry kisses, tenderly took it into my mouth
and nursed on it, felt it begin to swell, fill my cavity. The second prick
to visit my mouth tasted nothing like the first, felt even better. But
Ellen deprived me of it as soon as I'd gotten it hard. She positioned
herself on her hands and knees beside me, guided the pole in her hand
between spread thighs. Her eyes closed blissfully

as he entered her. I reached out and started squeezing her dangling
tits. Ron batted my hands away and grabbed them himself, using them for
handles as he rode her, just as savagely as he had me.

His violent thrusts moved her face closer to me. When her eyes opened,
they were glassy with lust. She attacked my mouth with hers, grunted into
me each time he hammered her. When she started cumming, she bit my lower
lip. Each time she spasmed, she bit harder. When he suddenly

stopped, she whined in shock and need.

His voice was a snarl. "Slide under your cunt of a wife, bitch. Lick
my balls while I fuck her. See how a real woman takes a dick."

I scrambled to obey. I not only kissed and sucked his balls, I also
flicked my tongue over Ellen's swollen clit, lapped the fluids that
overflowed her pussy. Her lips were on my organ again, lapping the cum
that'd oozed from my ass. I was still so loose that her tongue actually
entered me. I humped her face like the wanton slut I was. I had no more
boundaries. A lifetime of limits, of denial, rolled off me like a shed
skin. I embraced my new existence, fit both Ron's tender balls between
widely opened lips and rolled my wife's clit with unabashed abandon.

She began another series of orgasms, had to give up my little dick in
order to howl and scream. I released Ron's testicles when I felt them
tighten. It was astounding to see his huge rod swell and throb and fill
her twitching cunt with another load of cum. As it leaked past her labia,
I devoured it, eliciting still more shrieks from her. Ron jerked out and
rolled away, gasping for breath. I devoured her vacated hole, and she
continued to cum, continued to shrilly cry out,

wracked by spasms I refused to let end.

Finally, sobbing, she fell on top of me, moving her throbbing groin out
of reach.

A sated, warm relaxation enveloped me. I only vaguely recall the chill
when Ellen rolled off me. She and Ron spoke softly, but I could make no
sense of their words. I sank into a deep peaceful sl**p.

9. Chapter - Awakening

There was a vague noise. It was dark. The bed was far too hard, too
cold. I was curled into a tight ball. When I began to roll over, I was
ripped by pain. My ass. My jaws. My shoulders. I moaned.

"Wake up, whore." The ceiling light flared blindingly.

Memory filled me, and my pain was explained. I was still on the kitchen
floor.

Ellen leaned against the doorframe, smoking. She wore only high heels
and hose. Her nipples were swollen. Bite marks decorated the slope of her
tits. Her makeup was mostly gone. What remained made her look cheap, used
- and beautiful.

I tried to speak. My throat was dry, raw, emitted only a croak.

"Ron went home," she explained. "We're through with the bed. Get your
sleazy ass up there."

I was afraid I'd have to crawl up the stairs, but somehow managed to
climb painfully to my feet. I used the walls to keep myself erect and
followed her swaying ass and trail of smoke.

She released me from the corset and made me sl**p in the huge wet spot
they'd left on the sheets. Each breath filled me with the perfume of their
fucking. I'd been good enough to earn a night in bed. No chains. The
world faded again.

It was still dark when I awoke, my bowels and bladder both demanding
relief. I eased Ellen's arm off me and tiptoed into the bathroom. It hurt
so much that I was afraid I was shitting bl**d, but my stool looked
perfectly normal. Wiping was agonizing. I shuddered a little, remembering
how huge Ron had felt in me, and hoped that being fucked wasn't always
going to hurt so much.

I steeled myself before using the mirror, but the glass wasn't the enemy
it had been. Even without the corset, I was able to convince myself that
my image was that of an undeveloped - rather, a developing - woman. Those
sweet lips had hosted two cocks after all, and the

dimpled ass had taken its first prick. I squeezed and lifted my chest.
If I continued to please Ellen, my tits would grow into firm globes like
hers. Men could suck them, slide their greased dicks between them as I
pressed them together. I'd could kiss the cock heads at the top of their
thrusts, watch them swell and eject their sperm all over my face.

I renewed my vow to be good and fought down the urge to stroke my hard
clit.

I was ready to turn off the light and go back to bed when I finally
noticed the ring. Where my wedding band had been was a small diamond
engagement ring. A stab of sadness knifed me, the grief that'd been cut
off before. I hurriedly flicked off the light, but the emotion wasn't so
easily banished. It clung to me like stale sperm, refusing to allow me to
get back to sl**p.

Mourning my own death was hard. There was no corpse to shed tears over,
nothing to bury so the healing could begin. I lay there until Ellen awoke.
I went through the motions of bathing, dressing, applying my makeup,
fetching and carrying for her on command. If she noticed my

silent anguish, she made no comment.

After I'd done the breakfast dishes, she had me give us both manicures.
She was surly, terse, easily upset. She smoked heavily and her every word
dripped with scorn. Nothing I did was quite good enough. I was extremely
cautious, not wanting to do anything to upset her further. A

sinking feeling was added to my vague sorrow. Something was wrong. She
left me to do my chores and vanished into our bedroom.

It was a little after two in the afternoon when she came downstairs,
dressed to kill in the wet looking black minidress and metal-tipped
stiletto heels. Her makeup and bearing were those of a call girl. I was
nearly finished mopping the kitchen floor. She stood close enough to let
me see that, as before, her shaven cunt was exposed between her mesh hose
and garter belt. I felt plain in my work clothes and minimal makeup.

"I'm going out. I want you to meet me in the airport Hilton bar at
eight. Wear something really slutty, Sheila. There's someone I want you
to meet."

"Are you ..." I swallowed. "Is Ron ..."

"This has nothing to do with Ron, darling. It's strictly for us. But
it's very important - maybe the most important date you'll ever have - so
look your best. Understand?"

I let my eyes fall from her moist pussy back to the vinyl. "Do you have
to go so early? I mean -"

Her smoky laugh was sharp enough to interrupt me. "Is my little fag
bitch scared to be alone? Or just jealous that I may be getting my brains
fucked out while you're doing housework?"

I blushed. "You've never left me by myself before."

"Of course I have, love. At the beauty salon, and right here in this
room. You've spent hours all by yourself. Your chains and ropes are just
invisible now." She stroked my long hair, pulled my head against her belly,
rubbed my cheek over her sleekly covered mons. "Would you like to kiss my
pussy goodbye? Get it nice and moist for the cock that may be in it in a
while?"

I nodded. She planted her feet to either side of my head. I slid the
skirt up and exposed her brown-lipped lower mouth. She rocked up and down
on my tongue and nose until my face was wet with her flow. As I ate her, I
was overcome with desire. She was going out, going to get herself laid for
some mysterious purpose, and I was preparing her for whoever would part
these very lips with a prick. I wondered how often she'd done this sort of
thing without my knowledge. I wondered how many men had fucked her eager
pussy while I watched a stupid football games or stayed late at the office.
I wondered if Ron knew what a slut she was. And, I wondered who she'd
fixed me up with, who'd be fucking my ass or mouth in a few hours - and why
it was so important.

She abruptly jerked her flooded core from my hungry mouth, ending my
lusty reverie. Her voice was low and throaty. "Take off your blouse,
baby. I need to tighten your corset before I leave."

It was the red one. As she strained against the laces, compressing my
waist to at least twenty-two inches, I was already visualizing what I'd
wear to meet her. How many loads of cum would her body have absorbed by
the time I arrived? A sudden thought stopped my impassioned

planning. "How will I get there? To the hotel?"

"A cab, of course. I left twenty dollars on the vanity."

Somehow the idea of taking a taxi was more intimidating than getting
dressed to go fuck some stranger. I tried to hide my nerves, as well as my
shameful excitement. Her crooked scarlet smile told me I failed at both.
She tied off my laces, smoothed her dress to cover as much as it could, and
swayed out without another word. I listened as her metal shod heels
clacked over the floor, silently crossed the carpet, then echoed for a few
strides in the garage. The door ground open. I

watched from the window as she backed down the drive, cigarette dangling
between slick, fat red lips. I saw Jerome Hillyard, our neighbor across
the street, stare open mouthed at the change that'd taken place in her.
Had he done more than stare? Had she fucked him, too? How many of our
neighbors had dipped their wicks in Ellen's hot hole? A lot of them, I
perversely hoped, twisting the engagement band circling my ring finger.

I fought the urge to dash upstairs and begin getting ready. It was too
soon. And Ellen had made it clear that she expected all my work to be done
before I left the house. I compelled myself to settle down and do the
laundry.

I'd barely fixed my lipstick and gotten started when the doorbell rang.
I froze in the midst of loading the dryer with damp lingerie. I couldn't
answer the door! What if it was Jerome, or some other acquaintance? I
couldn't let anybody see me like this! I decided to ignore it, pretend I
wasn't home. But whoever was there leaned insistently on the buzzer.

I peeked from the laundry room window, was simultaneously thrilled and
dismayed to see that it was Ron. I was hesitant to let him in without
Ellen there. He'd want to know where she'd gone, what she was doing. He
was liable to fly into a jealous rage. But he obviously wasn't

going to leave.

Checking my face in the mirror, I fluffed my hair a little and hurried
nervously to the door. I wouldn't let him in. I'd tell him we were busy,
that I'd have Ellen call as soon as she could.

But, the instant I opened the door a crack, he pushed it wider and
stepped past me.

"Ellen's busy," I blurted, hiding behind the door, leaving it open.
"Maybe you should come back -"

"Ellen's gone. I saw the car drive up the block a few minutes ago." He
ambled insolently to the couch and sat down.

"Then what ..." I began, but my voice failed me. Was he here to see me?

"Close the door and come over here, bitch. I've been thinking about
that tight asshole of yours all day. I want another piece of it."

I blushed, both fearful and flattered. I was sure Ellen wouldn't want
him to use me unless she was here to watch. He was her boyfriend, after
all. "I don't think that's a good idea, Ron." I kept the door cracked.

"Oh, come off it, slut! Don't play hard to get. We both know that's
pure bullshit. You know you want it. You let me know last night how much
you liked it. So get your sleazy ass over here. Wrap those hot lips
around my dick and let me fuck that sexy face. If you're real good, I may
even let you jack off while I drill your ass."

He was right, of course. I did want it. I had the instant I saw him
through the window. I vividly remembered how grand it'd been to be filled,
stretched, used like I was a real woman. Honestly, part of his
attractiveness was because he was Ellen's lover. Having the prick that'd
been in her so many times rammed into me made me feel even more weak kneed.
It'd be wicked to fuck him behind her back. But, if I got caught ...

Wickedness won out. Besides, if I resisted, he'd just take me anyway.
What could I do? Call the police and scream ****? Run madly from the
house? I leaned against the door and flipped the deadbolt.

He wasn't into small talk or foreplay. As I approached, both eager and
timid, Ron pointed to the floor between his legs. I sank to my knees,
staring at the growing lump hidden by his shorts. It knew how large it
was, what it tasted like. And this time, I didn't have to share it with
anyone. I was alone with my first man. I was betraying Ellen just like
she had me. I was as big a whore as she was. Saliva began to fill my
mouth.

But I wanted information along with his dick. I wanted to know how
large a role he'd played in changing me into the cock hungry bitch I'd
become in less than a week. So, as I reached out to lightly massage his
cock, I licked my lips and tried to milk him of more than his cum.

"I meant to thank you last night for everything you've done to help
Ellen."

His laugh was brutal. "Jesus. I can't believe you're really into it
this much. How can any man let this happen to him without a fight?"

I slowly lowered his zipper. "I'm not just any man," I told his
swelling groin. "I've always been a wimp. I think I've wanted to be like
this all my life, but never had the courage to admit it. I thought you
knew that."

"Not until Ellen told me about how much you got off on her clothes and
shit."

My hand reached his flesh. It was so warm, so silky. "I wish she'd
told you sooner. How long did you two plan this?"

He drew a harsh breath as I fished his manhood from his underwear and
loose shorts. It was beautiful. It nestled against my curved red nails
like an eager pet begging to be stroked.

"Six months or so, I guess. God, you're sexy. Kiss it, bitch."

I teased the head with my tongue. I wanted the whole thing buried in my
throat, but was enraptured with the power of my situation. Ellen had made
me beg. Ron had, too, the night before. I wanted to turn the tables. He
already wanted me, but I needed him to crave me, to plead with me.

"Tell me about it. It's so exciting, Ron. I want to hear everything."

While I tinted his cock flesh with my brilliant lip color, while I
licked his hairy sack, I prompted him to keep talking.

"I knew the look," he groaned. "Guys have been looking at my dick in
the shower, just the way you did, ever since I was a k**. I knew right off
you were a fag, and couldn't figure out why a gorgeous bitch like Ellen
stayed with you. Ooh, shit. Deeper, baby."

I tried to angle my head, to fit more of him between my bulging lips.
Pink saliva glistened the length of his rod. It felt like my mouth had
been designed to do this. "More," I gasped. "Tell me more."

"Ahh! That's it!" he groaned as my questing lips took more meat,
stretched to reach for his balls. His hips started to rise and fall.
"Ellen laughed when I told her how you looked at me. That's when she
started watching you closer and caught you messing around in her shit. I
told her I thought you'd make a hot looking slut. God, was I ever right!
Oh, yeah! Suck it, baby!"

I was thrilled beyond words when my throat seemed to open and I
swallowed him. My smeared lips nestled at the very root of his prick. I'd
done it! I stayed there, immobile but for my spasming throat and questing
lips, until black motes swam before my eyes and I was compelled to release
him and gasp air. I stared down in astonishment at his glistening eight
inches. I was ready to cum. I resisted the impulse to reach down and
touch myself and rocket into heaven. I wanted this to last. I wanted to
hear more. I was certain I could make him tell me whatever I wanted.

"You wanted me, too," I purred, lapping the length of his staff with my
tongue. "You've always wanted me to suck your cock, haven't you?"

"Yeah. I knew you'd be good. Almost every time I fucked Ellen, I
dreamed of you looking like this, doing this. I wanted to hurry things
along. Your bitch of a wife insisted we had to go slow."

"Umm," I said, taking him half way in then backing off. "Good things
come to those who wait, lover. Am I as good as she is?"

"Better," he growled, grabbing my hair and jerking my head down. Now
that I knew how, I let him impale every wonderful inch into me. "She won't
let me fuck her ass, and deep throat makes her puke."

He humped my mouth until I was afraid I was going to pass out. I had to
struggle free. My voice was raw. I felt crazed by my need for what was
happening. But there was still a glimmer of caginess left in me, as if it
was part of my widening lust. "You can do anything you want

to me. I don't care. The dirtier and nastier, the better. I love
being treated like a cheap whore. Was that your idea, too?"

"Yeah. Nothing turns my crank more than sluts in tight dresses and wild
makeup. The first time I made Ellen dress up for me, I fucked her for four
hours non-stop. I made her cum until she begged me to quit. She loved it,
too. I knew she would. Anybody who wanted to turn her old man into a
fucking woman had to be really twisted. Turns out she couldn't get enough
after that."

I was pumping him with both hands, letting my mouth writhe over the top
half of his erection. I didn't know how much more I could take. My
sphincter muscles were tightening and loosening on my butt plug. My ass
felt moist, more than ready.

"Did you make her fuck other guys? Did you make her dress cheap and
take her out and show her off?"

He was close to losing control. "We went to parties. It was her idea.
But she never hosed anybody else. I wondered if maybe she wanted to, but
it ever happened. I let her flirt, dance, make them hot, then I'd take her
into a bedroom and fuck her stupid. We'd go back and party

some more and my cum would be running down her legs." He struggled up in
the sofa, tried to pry me off his cock. "Has she been fucking around? Has
she?"

"No!" I insisted, kissing just the head of his hard treasure. "Of
course not! You keep her so well fucked, how could she?"

"Have you fucked her, slut? Have you poked that little dick of your
inside her pussy?"

I pulled on his cock and backed away from the sofa. "Not for almost a
month - and never again. I eat her whenever she wants. I can make her cum
with my tongue better than I ever could the other way. Come here, Ron.
I'm so fucking hot. My ass needs you so bad. Fuck me. Please. Fill my
hot little ass with that huge thing. Make me scream. Fuck me hard and
mean and shoot your cum way, way up inside me. Tell me what's going to
happen next, baby."

He stroked himself, staring at me with burning eyes while I wiggled out
of my tight jeans. I'm not even sure he knew he was speaking.

"She going to do like she said. She's going to get you tits. Make you
get a job as a woman. She says she's got friends who can help."

I curled my legs up toward my chest, spread my ass cheeks so he could
see me remove my plug. The sensation of having him watch me readying
myself for him was a thrill as intense as swallowing his entire length had
been. He was so big, so strong. I was weak and small - yet I was in
control.

He leapt toward me, rolled me over onto my stomach. "Wait," I
whispered. "I want this to be good. The best you've ever had, Ron. I want
to make my asshole slick and wet for you. I want to lube myself with my
cum. When you fuck me, it'll be like fucking myself."

I had him hypnotized. I relished having my ass raised for him, peeling
away my retainer, exposing my purpled, lust heavy cock and balls. I knew
something he didn't. He was as gay as I was. He wanted me more than he
ever wanted Ellen. I could have made him suck me, as I had him - but a sly
part of me knew that if I did, I'd lose control of him. He'd be too
sickened by what he'd done to ever be nice to me again. He needed to
believe he was the neighborhood's straight, macho, musclebound hunk. So, I
gripped myself, tickled myself with my long painted nails and teased him
yet more. I bent my rod back and imagined it was sliding up my ass. It
only took a few moments. I gasped, with my inflamed cheek pressed into the
carpet, while I pumped sticky

streams toward my back door and rubbed my sperm into my tender flesh,
dipping my fingers into my loosened asshole, pushing as much cum as I could
inside myself.

My voice was hollow with need. "Do it, Ron. Fuck me. Do it now."

I took him much easier than I had the first time. There was no pain or
chain to distract me. Like my mouth, my ass now seemed designed for cock.
I revelled in the spoils of my seduction, the depth of his hammering
thrusts. I had more power as a woman than I'd ever had as a man. My body
had become a real tool for pleasure. Cindy had given me my retainer in
return for sexual favors and told me how fantastic I was. The man I'd
sucked at the bar had paid me with a drink and cigarettes in return for the
blowjob of his life. I'd wrapped Ron around my painted pinky. I was
beginning to think I might be able to manipulate Ellen, if I was careful.

Ron's pummelling was taking its toll on me. My cock had rehardened.
When I angled my hips just right, it felt like he was fucking the inside of
my overgrown clit. Sharp electric bolts tore through me, and all thoughts
were buried beneath the cascade of sensation. When he howled and filled my
guts with his cream, I jerked and spewed in sympathy. He collapsed atop
me, his mass pinning me to the carpet. Being held and having my neck
kissed between his ragged breaths was

almost as rewarding as being fucked.

"You are one fine lay, cunt," he sighed into my ear. "We'll have to do
this again."

I carefully squeezed my buttocks together, caressing his still buried
dick. "Any time, darling. But right now, I'd better get up and get back
to my housework or Ellen's going to be really pissed."

"Speaking of the queen cunt, what's she up to?"

"She didn't say," I lied. I was protecting her. Ron was obviously
unaware he wasn't her only source of cock. He may or may not have been the
one to awaken in her a taste for tight dresses and heavy makeup, but I was
ninety-nine percent certain that today wasn't her first solo foray into the
world of bar sex. The only reason she hadn't gotten laid the night before
was because she needed to watch me get it so badly.

"Maybe it'd be a good idea not to mention that I dropped by," he said as
he raised his hips, freeing his limp meat with a soft sound that echoed
inside me.

I felt empty. My ass clutched around nothingness. Well, not quite. I
felt his cum oozing from my still opened hole. "Whatever you say, Ron."
Another rush made me shiver. It was almost time to wrap myself in the red
outfit, paint my face as nastily as I knew how, climb in a cab and go to a
hotel bar. I felt hot all over, and eager for Ron to leave.

Luckily, he was ready to go, too. A thought struck me as he rolled me
over for a farewell kiss to my smeared mouth. "Could you do me a little
favor before you go?" I asked him between tastes of his mouth.

"Sure."

"Help me change shoes. I still can't reach my ankles very well when I'm
in my corset." I smiled inwardly. Would Ellen wonder how I'd managed this
trick? "And, while you're here, maybe you could tighten my laces a little.
They seem to have worked loose somehow," I giggled.

I didn't complain that he overdid the tightening a little, reducing my
waist to closer to twenty inches, swelling what little tits I had even
more. After he strapped the towering red heels to my slim ankles, I reached
up and kissed him goodbye, feeling his prick already stirring against my
tiny belly. The fact that I could do that to a man who'd just cum inside
me a few minutes before made me feel very good. I was a foxy little slut.
Everybody who saw me would want me, and I wanted

to be desired, to be lusted after.

So, the instant I locked the door behind my lover, I cleaned up the cum
staining the carpet, but decided to take a risk and forget about my other
tasks, despite the consequences. I had much more important things to take
care of.

10. Chapter - Changes

My heart was hammering wildly by the time the taxi pulled into the
drive. I'd asked the dispatcher to make sure the driver didn't honk, but
apparently he hadn't gotten the word, because he did anyway, long and loud.
The entire neighborhood was alerted, no doubt peeking out their windows to
see what was going on. Horrified, I debated what to do. The cabbie again
leaned on the horn. Waiting was only going to make it worse. I bolted
from the front door, praying I wouldn't be recognized for what I was.

My prayer was ignored. Nosy Jerome, across the street, was plainly
visible, again drop-jawed. First he'd witnessed Ellen's departure, clad in
her skintight black minidress and wearing ten pounds of makeup. Now, some
strange woman - me, her lighter twin - in just as few clothes

and just as much makeup. The proverbial cat was probably out of the
bag.

I was mildly surprised by how little I cared. Unless relocation was in
Ellen's plans, the neighbors would no doubt see much more of me in the
future. I was absolutely determined that my two week vacation would
stretch out to encompass the rest of my life. I settled into the seat

and crossed my legs.

The driver was watching me in the mirror. I favored him with a bright
smile. He apparently wasn't used to picking up women who looked like
streetwalkers in such a respectable part of the city. I knew exactly what
my clinging, flame red dress, shimmering platinum blonde mane, and

gaudy makeup made me look like.

Being outside the house without Ellen was almost s much fun as fucking
without her at my side. I felt free to do whatever I wanted. I teased the
driver to distraction with my legs and lips, pretending I was ignorant of
what I was doing to him. But, when I leaned forward to ask him for a
cigarette, I saw the tent his erection was making in his pants. I toyed
with the idea of sucking him off rather than paying cash for my fare, but I
didn't find him all that attractive, and I wasn't very horny. Besides, I
was already nearly late and didn't want to risk Ellen's wrath.

As it turned out, it wouldn't have mattered a whole lot. I was slowed
by fear the moment I stepped from the cab. This was a very busy place.
Travelers were leaving and arriving as if this hotel was the airport
itself. My newly discovered confidence was shaken by the hustle and

bustle. I tapped into the bar, feeling scrutinized by thousands of
eyes. It was packed, of course. I scanned the tables and barstools
nervously and found no sign of Ellen. No tables were vacant, although by
the looks I was getting, I could have joined any number of solo males. I
opted for the view a seat at the bar would give me.

I stood out radically in the somberly dressed mob. The dim light didn't
seem to dull my screaming red dress, and I felt like my long silver-blonde
tresses reflected every bit of available light. For the first time since
Ellen had left, I missed her. Had she been there at my side, I'd have
revelled in the attention that saturated me. Instead, I felt vulnerable,
exposed - and scared.

I spent the last of my twenty dollars on a glass of wine. I wouldn't
have had to, of course. There was very little I'd have ever had to buy for
myself, dressed like that in a hotel bar. While that notion thrilled me
more than a little, it did nothing to banish my uneasiness. Where was
Ellen?

I rebuffed three thinly veiled offers of "a drink or something," and my
rejections earned me a little space. Apparently, I wasn't the readily
available bar girl I appeared, they must have reasoned. My self-confidence
began to return. But the fourth voice in my ear startled me when the man
it belonged to called me by name.

"You must be Sheila," came the gutturally accented baritone.

I stared for a long, uncomfortable moment. He was tall and thin, with a
mop of unkempt blondish hair. He slouched and his tie was crooked, making
his suit look too expensive for him.

If I'd been able to maintain the mood Ron left me in, feeling as brazen
as my outfit, I'd have smiled provocatively and come back with something
witty. Instead, I blurted, "Where's Ellen?" acting as

insecure as I felt.

His smile was mysterious. At least I was able to identify his accent as
Germanic. "I am Hans. Ellen is upstairs in a meeting and has asked you to
join us." He performed one of those silly little stiff continental
half-bows and offered me his arm.

Upstairs meant a hotel room. My throat tightened and my clit gave a
little lurch. I stood, nervously smoothed my skirt, and tried to take his
elbow like I'd been doing it all my life. It was a curiously pleasing
sensation to be e****ted so formally back through the bar and lobby toward
the elevators. My mind was spinning. Meeting? What exactly did that
mean? It was an odd term, applied to Ellen the way she'd acted when she
left me that afternoon. The only business she'd

acted capable of transacting was on her back with her legs flung wide.

I was staggered. Literally. Hans gave me a concerned look as he pushed
the call button. I feigned a reassuring smile. Was that it? Was Ellen
selling her cunt? The conversation in the bar in the mall replayed itself.
The one about her cigarettes. What if, she'd said, she'd been dressing and
making herself up like that and "going out" for six months - about the time
she and Ron had hatched their plot. I'd assumed then that she'd been
trying to hurt me. While I'd sucked Ron's

dick, I'd imagined that there'd been some truth to her hypothetical
statement, that he'd uncovered in her a desire to look and act like a
tramp. But I hadn't imagined she'd actually whore herself. Surely, I'd
have known. Ruefully, I admitted that I hadn't known anything about my
wife until a week ago.

The dinging arrival of the elevator jolted me from my reverie. In the
close confines of the metal box, my e****t smelled of liquor and tobacco. A
quick craving for a cigarette grabbed me.

Speaking took effort. "Excuse me, Hans. May I have a cigarette?"

They were imported. He made no comment about the no smoking sign as he
lit it for me. The lighter was an ornate gold thing that matched the case
in which he kept his tobacco. It was harsh and oddly satisfying. My
lipstick was almost invisible against the dark brown paper.

I kept my voice going. "Uh, what kind of 'meeting' is this?"

He nodded, frowning slightly, as if confirming something. "As I
thought, she hasn't discussed this with you. Your friend has been in
contact with myself and several of my colleagues for a number of months."
His voice registered deep disapproval.

Ellen had introduced herself as my friend? To discuss what? Instead of
asking those questions, I quickly reassured him. "She and I are very
close. I'm sure she meant this as a surprise."

His expression softened. "In that case, perhaps I have said too much?"

I squeezed his bicep, gave him a soft smile. "It'll be our secret."

His thin lips curved upwards and his eyes more or less politely measured
by body. "As you wish. I must say, you seem quite well adjusted."

I felt myself pale. He knew about the secret between my legs. I was
confused. Should I feel betrayed or flattered? I took smoke very
carefully to cover my embarrassment. The elevator door opened at the top
floor. Again I accepted his arm. The far wall of the hall was mirrored. I
saw an extremely sexy little blonde woman, clad in fuck-me red, on the arm
of a tall thin man. She was gorgeous, in a brazen way, but her visible
discomfort was spoiling her desirability.
Angry at myself, I hugged my e****t's arm more tightly, deliberately
pressed my thigh to his as we walked down the hall. He squeezed my arm and
smiled. He knew, but he didn't mind being close to me. Was he the
"special friend" I was to meet? Was I being nice enough to him? And,

above all, was he going to fuck me? If Ellen was whoring herself, was
she going to sell my holes to this man and his "colleagues?" My belly
hollowed, not entirely with fear.

I was anticipating a sordid scene as Hans turned to face a door and
swung it open. My throat was tight. Would the room be filled with men?
Maybe I'd see Ellen on her hands and knees, sucking one cock while being
fucked by another, or ...

What I was presented with was even more shocking. Ellen sat at the head
of a table with three men. They were examining papers, not her pussy. Her
makeup and hair weren't mussed. I felt a shameful stab of disappointment.
She glanced up from what she was reading, and the room fell silent as all
eyes focused on me.

They weren't the kind of looks I was growing accustomed to. They were
cold, clinical, examining me more like a side of beef than a target of
lust. I felt like a fool. Ellen had set me up, led me to believe that I
was coming here to get laid - and I'd eagerly leapt at the chance to

open my orifices to whoever wanted them.

A blast of raw sanity ripped through me. I saw myself as I was, for the
first time in days. I wasn't a woman. I was a married male with a dark,
newly revealed, twisted taste for cock. I was a sham, a parody, a pathetic
joke. My sickness had filled me. I'd given myself over to it. I'd
embraced my depravity, wanting to believe I'd had no choice. I'd lied to
myself all the way along. If I'd really wanted to, I could have resisted
Ellen's dominance and torture. I'd had more

opportunities than I could count to stubbornly say no, to insist that
this charade end. I hadn't, purely because I'd craved every last moment of
what had happened to me. I'd needed the excuses her coercion provided.

All this in one of those wordless insights that take up such a paltry
amount of clock time, yet change everything. Ellen was just beginning to
part her lips and introduce me. Her associates, or whatever they were, had
yet to complete their scan of me. In that mere instant, I'd shed my slutty
horniness and was wallowing in full-blown despair.

A strange numbness kept the scene at a distance. It was like I was
floating somewhere near the ceiling, emotionlessly observing what was going
on below as if it was happening to someone else. I mechanically took the
chair Hans held for me. I saw my legs cross, felt the casual smile on my
lips. Shouldn't I be crying, I remember wondering, almost idly? I sensed
that this was probably one of the most critical moments of my life and was
astonished by the feeling of peace enveloping me.

They were all European physicians specializing in various aspects of
gender re-assignment. Ellen had sought them out months before. They were
there to assess me. If I passed their examinations, I was to become a
woman.

In my altered state of consciousness, I felt no qualms, no hesitation. I
basked in the glow of Ellen's proud smile. Yes, I quietly insisted, this
is what I wanted, with all my heart. No, there was no chance I'd regret
such a momentous decision. I was committed. No, I didn't need

the traditional year of living in female guise to be sure. I was ready,
right then.

The interview took three gruelling hours. Two of the doctors had mild
reservations, but I swayed the other two, Hans and a younger Frenchman man
named Jordan. I didn't, of course, leap on an airplane and fly to Denmark
to have my cock made into a cunt, although nothing would have made me
happier. There were arrangements to be made - and finances to be arranged.
It was agreed, though, that I'd receive breast implants in the near future.

Ellen invited them to stay for drinks. Jordan and Hans accepted, and
Ellen called room service while I stepped into the suite's bedroom to
freshen up. As I touched up my face, I began to exit the trance-like state
I'd been wrapped in, and the reality of my choice took hold. It wasn't
fear that emerged, but excitement. A shiver rippled through me as I stared
at the pale flesh of my cleavage and the twin swells below. In ten days,
my corset would embrace living flesh, not molded latex. I could flaunt
them with even deeper necklines. Men could suck them, pinch them, slide
their pricks between them.

My sharp, curved nails worked my false nipples and my real ones
stiffened in sympathy. The thrill settled in, became heat. When the door
opened and Ellen slid through, I was still standing before the mirror,
seeing myself as I was to become. In my mind, I was already a woman, not a
cross-dressed fag slut.

She walked up behind me, encircled my waist with her arms, and hugged
me. I settled against her with a sigh, nestled my head in the cup of her
shoulder, feeling the softness of her tit against my neck.

"You liked my little surprise?" she whispered.

I nodded, nuzzling her tit.

"Would you like to thank Jordan and Hans for their kindness?"

My belly hollowed. "Do you think they'd like that?"

"That's why they stayed, darling."

"To fuck me?"

"To fuck both of us."

She was right. For the first time, I experienced the delirious pleasure
of giving a blow job while having my ass filled, and watching Ellen receive
identical treatment. The only thing about the following hours I didn't
enjoy was being stripped of my corset, having my distinctly masculine body
made love to by Jordan. I hid behind my long silver hair, stared at my
lovely hands while he fucked my ass, cursing hoarsely in French.

They left us around three a.m. I fell asl**p in the hotel room bed,
curled in Ellen's arms, after lapping every bit of cum I could reach from
her pussy and ass and mouth. I was more content than I knew I could be.
Three man had enjoyed my body that day. All of them had known everything
there was to know about me, and lusted after me anyway. As I sank into
sl**p, I dimly realized that for the first time I was completely unashamed
of what I was.

I awoke disoriented. It took a few seconds to realize where I was. The
bed beside me was empty, but the faint sound of the shower emanating from
the bathroom told me where Ellen was. I stretched, relishing the faint
soreness of my ass. I'd been penetrated there four times, had wildly
humped the men riding me, and felt almost no distracting discomfort. I
fingered myself. My hole was loose and moist. I was ready for more. I
rolled to my feet and padded in to join Ellen in the shower. There wasn't
a cock in the room, so I settled for a pussy, backing my companion into a
corner of the stall, eating her until her knees went weak and she tried to
pull my entire

head into her slit.

I felt so beautiful as I dressed and made myself up that I was almost in
tears. I wanted everyone to know. I wanted to be stared at, desired,
seduced. Ellen's mood was much more reserved, but I barely noticed. I
felt free, in an all new way. I was ecstatically aware, as we made our way
back to the car, of the wide sway of my ass and the bounce of my tits. I
was totally at ease with the way my every move was watched, and easily met
the eyes of those staring at me.

I didn't catch Ellen's anger until we were well on our way home, and
even then she had to slap me with it.

"You're nothing but a fucking tramp," she spat with venom after I'd
favored another driver with a wide red smile.

I was shocked by the depth of her rage. I studied the floorboard. "I'm
sorry. I just feel -"

"Nothing to be sorry about, bitch. You are what you are. Actually, I'm
pleased. It'll make what we have to do a lot easier if I don't have to
f***e you." She didn't sound pleased.

I drew on my cigarette, nervously rubbed at the lipstick on the filter.
"What do we have to do?" I asked very quietly.

Her laugh was a harsh bark. "We have to make a lot of money for your
surgery."

I stared blankly at her for a moment, then looked out the window. I
didn't want her to see my smile. There weren't many ways to raise the
three thousand dollars we needed in ten days. I was going to be a very
busy girl for a while. The only question in my mind was if she was going
to whore herself on bar stools beside me. I hoped so. I really liked
sharing with her.

End

96% (47/2)
 
Categories: AnalBDSMShemales
Posted by klammer
3 years ago    Views: 11,194
Comments (2)
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3 years ago
This is my favorite story. I so want that to be me. My wife teases me and tells me that she know I want her to put thing in my ass. I always deny it. She found pictures on my computer of me dressed and sucking and fucking a man. We don't talk about that. Like it never happened, but she teases, and I dream.
3 years ago
awesome,thanks