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Our Mexican vacation had been my idea. Or at least that’s what I
thought. I realize now that my wife Angeles had planted the idea in my
mind. I like women who look like her, short, with olive-colored skin,
dark hair, and figures with exaggerated busts and bottoms. Not only do I
find that look exciting but, being short myself, I appreciate having
someone I don’t have to literally look up to. She kept k**ding me about
how a trip south of the border would let me ogle as much of that type as
I could stand. She even hinted that, when I got wildly aroused, as she
knew I would, she would be there to help me release all my sexual
tension. Besides, she speaks fluent Spanish and I don’t know any, so I
would have an expert translator. Well, I took the bait and we were soon
in a small city, staying in an excellent hotel. Every time we left our
room I got an eyeful of my favorite type of female. I told my wife, ‘I
hope you aren’t going to get jealous, Angel.’ She gave me her wide
charming smile and said, ‘I know there won’t be any problems.’
Why wasn’t she worried about me gawking at all those lovely senoritas? I
mean, I had flirted shamelessly with some of her Latina girlfriends at
home and come close to cheating more than once. The only reason I hadn’t
stepped over the line was that Angel always took care of my voracious
appetites, even though I wanted it more than she did. Actually, she
wanted it too, but she wished I would go down on her, something I didn’t
like at all and had never done. So our sex life was unbalanced in that
way. But I always reminded her that she had my impressively large cock
to do the job and should be happy with that. So there we were in Mexico,
with me having more fun than her while I went along to the art museums
and tourist sites, but all the time I was thrilling to the female sights.
I couldn’t wait to bed my gorgeous wife and let off the steam that was
building up inside me.
The first evening she pleaded weariness at bedtime. It had been a long
day so I honestly couldn’t fault her for that. She gave me a consoling
kiss, rubbing her big bust against my chest, and I went to sl**p horny.
The next day and night were the same. I was getting very frustrated. It
was on the third day, after breakfast, that I started to feel ill. She
said she had seen something like it before, when she had visited the
country six months earlier to see relatives, and that I should go to a
hospital. I couldn’t argue with that and soon I was registered. The
paperwork went smoothly and they got me a room at once. Then a nurse
came in to administer a shot. My wife couldn’t help but notice that,
even while feeling poorly, I was staring at the young woman’s boobs and
butt, well displayed in her traditional uniform. Instead of getting
irritated, Angel gave me an understanding smile, behind which I though I
detected some other emotion. A white-coated doctor came in and spoke
with my wife in rapid-fire Spanish, ignoring me. At the end of their
conversation he glanced at me with a puzzled expression, shook his head,
and walked out.
The shot took effect and I drifted off into medicated sl**p. It seemed
like only minutes passed before I work up again, in that familiar
antiseptic room. My head lolled on the pillow and I looked up at my
alluring wife, who was smiling down at me, her expression definitely
wicked and… vindictive? She told me, ‘Everything went extremely well,
dear. There was something wrong with your male plumbing, but the problem
has been fixed… permanently. They say you will be a new man and I
believe them.’ Her words made sense but she seemed to be saying
something else at the same time. I didn’t fully understand but was glad
I didn’t have anything serious wrong with me. Angel said that we could
go back to the hotel in a few hours and enjoy the rest of our vacation
before returning home. ‘One thing, though,’ she pointed out, ‘is that
the bandages will have to stay on until we’re back in the States, so you
won’t be able to hop on top of me and get your rocks off for a while.’
She leaned over me, her full bust temptingly close, and whispered hotly
in my ear, ‘We can look forward to getting back to business after we’re
in our own bed. I know I’LL be thinking about it all the time until
then.’
The way she said that got ME thinking about it non-stop. I was already
rammy from several days without any release. Now I started to feel like
a penned up bull. I sighed as she leaned closer and delivered an air
kiss several inches from my lips. It felt odd to have her in charge that
way. I was accustomed to being the one calling the shots in our physical
relationship. She even patted the middle of my chest before another cute
nurse entered the room to give me some fruit juice. It was a blend of
tropical flavors, a local product, and my wife and I started to discuss
that and how we wanted to sample more native cuisine before our trip was
over. I tried to keep my mind off sex but it wasn’t easy. In fact, it
was impossible. My bottled up passion was still mounting. I needed to
get laid. Oh, well, I told myself, waiting would make it that much
sweeter when I finally got to give my Angel a proper pumping with my big
cock.
The rest of the vacation went nicely, despite my growing neediness. We
sent a bunch of postcards and then went home and got settled back in.
The hospital had given my bride written instructions for removing the
bandages and cleaning up the area, but they were printed in Spanish so I
couldn’t read them. I was tempted to use the computer to try to
translate, because of those few moments of her acting odd in the
hospital, but after we were back in the States she acted extra seductive
so I focused more on that than on my concerns, which were probably
imaginary anyway. At last the big night came and it was time for, as she
called it, ‘The Unveiling’. Angel told me that the doctors had assured
her that I would be fully functional right away and that we could
celebrate my return to ‘normalcy’, though she spoke that last word with a
curious inflection, as if she was saying that matters wouldn’t be so
normal.
In the bedroom she got me naked. Angel was wearing an impossibly hot,
clinging item of lingerie that I guess you would call a teddy. It had an
open crotch and I couldn’t stop stealing peeks at her pussy, though I
tried not to be too obvious about it. The last situation I wanted was
for her to be put off by my open lust. I mean, I had always been rather
demanding in the bedroom, making her assume inventive positions and even
wear kinky outfits. In fact, I was already thinking about pushing that
envelope a bit further when she snipped the bandages, making a joke about
not wanting to ‘damage the merchandise’, and dabbed me with alcohol and
then applied a washrag wetted with warm water. My wife playfully stroked
my chest, getting me aroused, and then hesitated. She said, ‘You look a
little different down there. Maybe you should just check yourself, real
quick, in the mirror. And then we can party.’ I was disappointed to
have to wait even an extra minute, but also concerned about anything that
might have changed in the region of my thick eight inches.
When I got out of bed she opened the closet so I could use the full-
length mirror on the inside of its door. I was horrified to see my
crotch, which had been denuded of hair for the procedure, where my
genitals were indeed, ‘a little different’. I gaped at a one inch penis,
below which I could see no balls. My mouth hung open. I looked at my
wife and she just tilted her head to the side, smiled, and shrugged. ‘I
didn’t want to upset you and ruin the vacation but, well, they had to do
kind of a lot of work. You had some sort of condition and this surgery
was absolutely necessary. But don’t worry dear, they told me how we can
continue to have a full and satisfying love life. Really.’ Then she
said something in Spanish that, as always, I didn’t understand.
My head was spinning as she led me back to the bed and helped me to lay
face-up. Angel said, ‘Here, honey, let me show you that everything down
there still works.’ Her small soft hand went to the juncture of my legs
and she began to massage me gently. At once my cock sprang to life. She
took my hand and placed it over the hard organ. Except that what was
hard was less than two inches long. My fingers explored lower and I felt
no testicles. She told me it had been medically necessary to relocate
them inside my body… ‘for health reasons’. I couldn’t believe what I
was hearing and feeling. ‘Don’t worry,’ she assured me, ‘you’ll still be
a man to me. Sort of. And naturally we won’t breath a word of this to
anyone else. Sure, you won’t want to go to the tennis club, you know,
because of the locker room, but I don’t foresee any radical changes in
our lifestyle. We just have to switch to a different way for
lovemaking.’
With that she knelt over my hips, her moist pussy positioned over my
ridiculously short penis. My male ego had been crushed. I felt weak and
helpless, pliable and dependent. She lowered herself to rub her mound
against my shrunken member and I gasped with the shock of extreme
stimulation. She said sweetly, ‘See, darling? You can still feel
everything. Maybe even more powerfully than before, now that your
attention is concentrated in a much… smaller… area.’ Angel giggled
and lowered herself all the way, so that my erect one-quarter-of-a-penis
was inside her. She rocked back and forth atop it, making my libido go
wild. Then she looked down at me sympathetically and said, ‘You can feel
everything but… well… you won’t have the same ability to finish. You
know, because they had to stuff your balls up inside you, where they’re
going to stay.’
The way she made that last remark didn’t match the sympathy she had put
onto her face. I was confused and unable to gather my wits, or assert
myself in any way. Angel rose up off my penis and, still on her knees,
repositioned herself over my face. I could smell the womanly fragrance
of her wet slit. She dropped down until her dark pubic hair tickled my
nose. Then she said, in a no-nonsense way, ‘From now on, Richard, I am
going to have to have MY needs met, and the only way for you to do that
will be with your mouth. You know I’m a passionate woman, so we will be
in here frequently, with me where I am right now. And you WILL please
me. That, too, will be our little secret.’ The implication, as I saw
it, was that if I didn’t cooperate, she would leak the information about
my changed status to someone, to lots of someones. I shuddered at the
thought of everyone knowing what had happened to me. I would become a
freakish laughingstock. In a show of submission I extended my tongue
upward, barely making contact with her pussy, tasting for the first time
its salty distinctive flavor. I whimpered as she settled herself down
atop my mouth and began to give me instructions in a soft calming voice.
Three orgasms later she was satisfied. Angel dismounted and left me
there, my lower face slicked with her copious juices. She lay alongside
me and began to toy with my penis, saying cheerfully, ‘It’s so small. No
woman would be able to look at it without laughing. But I’ll take good
care of you, baby. I’ll make sure you get your fun. The thing is,
though, that I think you’ll be a better pussy eater if I keep you horny.
VERY horny. So for right now we’ll hold off on giving you any cums and
just concentrate on me. But I’ll give you lots and lots of teasing to
keep your sexual temperature high. VERY high.’ She giggled, which
seemed disrespectful, considering my difficult position, but I didn’t say
anything. I really did feel like I was at her mercy. At that moment,
while I was at my weakest, she hopped out of bed, stretched — which made
her beautiful breasts strain against the filmy lingerie, and said, ‘We
also have to discuss a change in your wardrobe.’ There was no
discussion. She simply said, ‘I can’t see you in boxers or even jockey
shorts with how little you have between your legs… sweetheart. So I
have some panties that I bought for myself, but I got the wrong size, and
they’ll be a perfect fit for you. Let me grab them for you and I’m sure
I’ll love the way you look in them.’
Feeling numb and still possessed by that sense of vulnerability, I
watched her go to the dresser, my eyes on her round protruding bottom,
and get a small pink bag from that popular ladies’ shop in the nearby
mall. She reached inside and came out with a pair of high-cut, pink
panties with the word CUTE embroidered down one side. She grinned at me
and said, ‘I think these’ll do it. After all, that tiny thing the
doctors left you with is pretty ‘cute’. She held them out to me and
ordered, her voice firmer, ‘Put them on, honeybunch.’ I wasn’t sure if I
was supposed to stand up or stay where I was, and didn’t feel up to
making a decision. I took them and pulled up one leg, to put my foot
into the lightweight garment, realizing belatedly that I was making a
spectacle of myself in that posture, like a woman trying to get attention
while she dressed. Even so, I got them on that way, working them up and
lifting my bottom to pull them the rest of the way over my hips. I lay
there passively, still tasting her pussy, and looked to Angel for
approval. She said, ‘Yes, that’s exactly the effect I was hoping for.
I’m going to keep you in panties from now on, Richard. Or should I
say…’ She paused thoughtfully, before deciding, ‘… Rosita.’ She
snickered at how clever she found that, giving me a Spanish name. I
could only return a weak smile, hoping to get her on my side.
The next day she declared that we were going out shopping, to get me some
additional clothing that was appropriate to my new status. I wasn’t
happy about it but still didn’t feel up to opposing her. We got into the
car but, unlike what I was accustomed to, she took the wheel. I sat
there with my knees pressed together, aware of how laughably small my
penis was, remembering what she had said about no woman wanting me as a
sex partner, and unable to stop thinking about how she had put me into
panties. Oh, and I was wearing a fresh pair. These ones said LOVELY.
She mentioned as we were on the road that I would be hand washing my
‘dainty underthings’. Our destination, I was unhappy to discover, was a
small shop that specialized in women’s fashions for young females who
wanted to… well… to look flashy. As soon as we went inside the
striking, slightly older Latina woman behind the counter recognized her
and asked how I had liked that sexy lingerie she had bought, which I
realized was what Angel had been wearing the night before. My wife
switched to Spanish and they chattered away happily with me standing
there not understanding a single word.
My wife nodded toward my crotch and the woman, Estrella, went wide-eyed,
then laughed. They talked a bit more before I was led to the back room,
which was nicely decorated and had several mirrors, where I was left
alone while they went to pick fashions for me. I couldn’t stop picturing
Estrella, her full figure, exotic eyes, full lips, and long black hair
pulled up in a bun at the top of her head. When they returned they each
held several items. Estrella told me with cool authority to strip. I
looked to my wife for support, to be told I didn’t have to demean myself
that way, but she just smirked at me. With great reluctance I began
unbuttoning my shirt. Soon I was down to just the panties I was wearing,
shamefully conscious that my diminished penis showed as only a tiny bump,
fearing how it would appear when I shucked my last bit of covering. The
women were unrelenting, so down came the panties. I blushed and Estrella
gave a snorting laugh. She pointed at my shame and said something in
Spanish to Angel, who answered, whatever she said provoking laughter from
both of them.
Estrella handed me a pair of panties that were covered with ruffles. I
stepped into them. My wife spoke to her and rubbed my thigh. I looked
down and noticed that there was no longer any hair in that area. What
had been shaved off my crotch wasn’t growing back. In fact, I was pink
and smooth all over, presumably another effect of what had been done to
me in Mexico. Next my wife gave me a camisole, which I put on over my
head. It was covered with bright vertical stripes, no two in the same
color. The panties were apricot, so I made a vivid picture. They had me
strut around, my wife telling me to walk as if I had her Lucite slippers
on. I used a feminine walk, my hips rolling and my chest outthrust.
Estrella made me hold my arms out slightly to the sides with my wrists
limp. It was disgraceful but I had no alternative. The woman from the
shop produced a cell phone and took numerous pictures. Then they
assisted me into a pair of super-tight Capri pants and had me model those
as well, with more pictures being taken. They kept it up until I had
modeled a half dozen outfits, all of which Angel bought, paying with my
charge card. She pointed out to me that she had chosen pieces that could
be mixed and matched, so I would have a new look every day.
Back at home I could see that my new life wasn’t going to end. She
intended to keep my in this role, feminized and subservient, a sex slave
who could hope for rewards in the bedroom but might never get them.
There was a knock at the door and it was a delivery man with a package
that had to be signed for. It was in my name so my wife made me do it.
At the time I was wearing shorts and a tank top, both obviously intended
for a female, as well as sandals with blocky heels two inches high. I
felt utterly humiliated as the driver stared at me with undisguised
loathing. I wanted to run away and hide but, instead, thanked him in a
soft voice. My wife opened the taped package, as if I wasn’t competent
to do it, now being such a wuss. Inside were several bottles which I saw
contained pills and capsules. She opened one of them and had me go to
the kitchen to get myself a glass of water. I was told to take two
orange pills and did so without complaint. What was I putting into my
body and how would it affect me? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
******
After two weeks on those d**gs, my skin was softer and I had absolutely
no body hair. My chest had grown soft and my bottom felt like it was
filling out. Angel taught me to pluck my eyebrows, not a lot but just
enough to shape them somewhat, making me appear even less masculine. My
vacation ended and she called my boss, explaining that I was going
through some personal changes, getting in touch with my feminine side,
and she hoped he would understand. If I needed to be switched to less
demanding work she said she would understand. He had met her a few times
and was attracted to her, which I suppose was one of the reasons he was
so accommodating. At the end of the conversation she even became
slightly flirtatious. When I returned to the office I was allowed to
handle most of my accounts, although the largest and most profitable had
been handed off to an overachieving woman. I would be earning less but
Angel had revealed that she was managing my investments and doing much
better than I ever had, which was yet another blow to my already
shattered ego. My co-workers all noticed my altered appearance and I was
aware of their eyes on me as they tried to figure out what was happening.
By the middle of that week my wife had invited a friend of hers, Lupe, to
come around and watch me several evenings a week. I had met her
previously and was very aware of her abundant charms. She looked like
Angel, if my wife had gained about twenty pounds and almost all of it had
gone to her already impressive curves. Lupe took one look at me and
said, ‘Hola, Rosita.’ I hugged myself and muttered a greeting in
response. The two women gabbed a while in Spanish and then my wife got
ready to leave. She was nicely dressed, with large hoop earrings and a
glittering necklace that drew attention to her exposed cleavage. As she
went out the door, Lupe said, ‘Have fun clubbing with the other girls.
And watch out for those oversexed men.’ My spouse told her, ‘Ha.
They’ll have to look out for me.’ Oh no. Angel was going out with some
of her girlfriends, to a club, and would be surrounded by horny guys who
were all planning to bed the women they met. I felt queasy at the
possibilities of what might occur. Lupe said she would take my mind off
all that, and her method was to assign me endless chores, all the while
badgering me and occasionally using a paddle on my backside. All I had
on was a fishnet body stocking that flaunted my hairless pink physique
and how soft it was continuing to become, with my chest and butt becoming
ever more girl-like.
The first night my wife returned and reported that she had talked to some
attractive men and let them touch her arms and shoulders. The next time
she bragged how she had kissed one stud, letting him run his hands up and
down her body and feel her butt. After each of those dates she made
demands on me, insisting that I lick her through one climax after
another, and even kiss her butt, gradually moving my mouth from her broad
cheeks to the valley between them for prolonged service. But it was her
third night out that brought the news I had been dreading. She showed up
looking disheveled and smilingly showed Lupe that she had brought her
panties home in her shoulder bag. I was in shock as she described going
to the apartment of the man who she let pick her up, doing an impromptu
strip tease for him, and then having wild sex. She laughed at me and
reminded me that I was no longer man enough to do that for her. She told
Lupe that she was taking me into the bedroom so I could give her a ‘bonus
orgasm’, at the same time cleaning up the messy deposit of cum that had
been spurted into her pussy. I grabbed my tummy and shook my head, but
Lupe took a heavy wooden kitchen spoon and gave my bottom —
unfortunately not covered at the time — a dozen hard swats, which
convinced me that cooperation would facilitate self-preservation.
In the bedroom my wife made fun of me and blurted out that my predicament
had been planned and staged to leave me the way I was. She had been
pissed off at my selfishness in bed and my generally overinflated sense
of self-importance. This was her revenge and she intended to keep
inflicting it for the rest of our marriage, which she meant to continue
for many years. I was devastated. Perhaps, at some level, I had
suspected her wicked intentions. But ever since our return from Mexico I
hadn’t felt able to stand up to her. Now it was hopeless. She laid back
on our bed and I humbly crawled between her out-flung shapely legs,
getting my mouth directly in front of her oozing pussy and giving it
several tender kisses, tokens of my final surrender, before I commenced
the unappetizing task of lapping another man’s spunk out of her body and
swallowing it, giving her an orgasm while I was denied my own.
SIX MONTHS LATER
Angel sends me to work in women’s clothes. My hair has grown in and she
has it styled at a salon, where I am the center of unwanted attention.
That man who Angel slept with, a tall muscular Black man named Cannon,
comes to the house several nights a week. Either he takes her out or
they stay in, but either way their evenings end with the two of them in
her bedroom, having sex that goes on and on. I called it ‘her’ bedroom
because they often sl**p there and I have to curl up on the floor of a
walk-in closet nearby, close enough to hear them if they wake up and have
more sex. On the nights when Cannon isn’t there, I am allowed to sl**p
alongside the bed on a fluffy doggie bed on the floor. At those times
I’m dressed in particularly showy lingerie with creative touches added,
like ribbons tied around my wrists and ankles, a big bow under my chin,
or my hair tied up with strands of colorful yarn. She takes pictures of
me like that and shows them to Cannon, whose deep hearty laugh stings me
every time I hear it. Lupe still comes when my wife is going to be out,
but now I am required to serve her orally as well, and she likes having
her ass pampered even more than my wife does. I’m afraid I’m becoming
addicted to being their body slave. I actually crave those demeaning
encounters with them.
My own sex life has finally been restarted, if you can call it that.
Angel lets me attempt masturbation, even though she knows that, no matter
how much I can stimulate myself, I’m not capable of finishing that way.
She does it to give her one more thing about me to laugh at and taunt me
about. The only way I can cum is for her to use a strap-on dildo and
take me from behind, which she delights in doing, calling me her bitch
and slapping my hips, which are now quite fleshy. I also have modest
breasts and can fill an A-cup bra. My life is an unending nightmare of
humiliation and sexual slavery. But, as I said before, she is getting me
hooked on it, and is thrilled every time she notices me responding to
something that, a half a year ago, would have repulsed me. She even has
me requesting that she **** my ass, just so I can dribble out a few drops
of watery cum and get partial relief, as much as an incomplete orgasm can
offer. She also had me pleading to be allowed to suck Cannon’s discharge
from her, even though I know she’s going to make me do it, because she
begins by suggesting that maybe she will cut me off from even the
perverse sexual contact of using my mouth all over her body. With my
heightened sex drive and inability to gain real satisfaction, I am always
desperate for whatever scraps, so to speak, she will offer me. My idea
of a rewarding evening is one that ends with me snuggled up behind her in
bed, my face between her warm butt cheeks, pleasuring her with my tongue
and hoping that she will drift off to sl**p so I can stay there for an
extra hour before being sent off the mattress and back to my fuzzy pink
doggy bed, where I will lie curled up, whimpering, knowing that the
unhappy noises I make will titillate her and get her warmed up for her
next night with her lover.
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