One Husband's Humiliations-Sequel free porn video

One Husband's Humiliation By Ann The Sequel Ok, I guess it wasn't fair to stop my story right in the middle. You can pretty well guess how it ended though, right? I mean, looking at my pants and shoes and things it should be obvious. But if you really must know, I'll tell you how it ended. Let me start again a few weeks before I ended it. The last year or so had been the most humiliating time in my life. I lost my job and my money. I lost my status as husband. I became my wife's slave. She denied me access to the world until I became a mindless ignorant idiot. She denied me men's clothing for so long that I can't even remember what it felt like against my body. My wife destroyed my credit cards and my driver's license. She made me hitch rides with pervert taxi drivers or her 16 year old nephew. My wife started carrying-on with my best friend. She made me his servant as well. She made me go on dates with teenage boys, her nephew included. This led to things I still can't bring myself to talk about. Surprisingly, among all of these humiliations, the worst occurred the day I discovered that my muscles had shrunk so much that my wife became stronger than me! Let me explain. Ever since our marriage, my husbandly duties included taking care of the lawn. That didn't change when Mistress made me her servant. Every Monday she made me mow the lawn and trim the bushes and do whatever other work needed to be done. Although she couldn't watch me, being at work and all, she did find many ways to verify that I complied with her orders. I never knew what would tip her off either. It could be an errant grass stain on some pants I was forbidden to wear or an eyewitness report of a nosy neighbor. It could be a dusty bookcase or a hidden camera. I never knew what was coming. One thing that did come every day though, was Mistress' inspection of my work when she got home from work. As I stood at submissive attention, Mistress walked from room to room in her business clothes, examining all of my work. On Mondays, this inspection inevitably followed a course that led it and me outside. It humiliated me intensely to stand at attention in a babydoll nightie and high heeled slippers (and later the maid's costume) as my wife surveyed the yard. I could tell the neighbors watched this spectacle with great delight each week. At first, I used to wear my loafers and shorts when I worked in the yard. Then they all wore out. Soon I worked in my wife's orange hot pants and a pair of my wife's low-heeled, wedge-heeled sandals. At that point I found myself wearing heels and babydolls inside the house, so I didn't see much of a problem wearing the hot pants and sandals out in the yard. Besides, as I said, my wife didn't let me change out of the babydolls and slippers for the Monday night yard inspections. I wasn't too thrilled that the neighbors would see me in either outfit, but what choice did I have? I felt so terrified during the first several inspections that my whole body shook with fear and my eyes darted back and forth nervously. I could see the neighbors watching tv - Monday Night Football probably. I would have felt very jealous of them if I didn't feel so self-conscious. If they bothered to look out their window during any commercial break, I would have been exposed! Mistress picked up on my fears and, I think, slowed the pace of her inspections to a crawl. I figured she got a kick out of prolonging my agony. Eventually I learned to calm myself and focus on maintaining my composure, which caused Mistress to lose interest in the inspections. That caused her to speed up the inspections to get back inside - she always hurried to get out of her work clothes and into something more comfortable than her business suits and heels (actually, she usually kicked off her heels before inspecting the lawn. "You can't wear heels on grass dear." Then, back inside, she made me clean her feet and rinse her stockings. She has amazingly soft feet!). Living in the house on our right was an older man, probably around 50, who toiled endlessly in his garden. He used to wave to me back when I dressed like Paul. The first time I wore the hot pants and the sandals, I thought, "oh God, he's going to laugh at me the whole time." Surprisingly though, he didn't recognize me! Instead, he started calling me "Stephanie" - making the same mistake as the grocery store clerks. I guess he had poor vision. On the one hand, being made for "Stephanie" was pretty humiliating. On the other hand, I felt quite relieved he didn't recognize me. On the other side lived a pudgy little teenage kid who hated yard work and rarely made an appearance. He's the kind of kid you dislike on looks alone. He used to give me funny looks which I tried to ignore. As I already mentioned, I eventually ran out of shorts and tee shirts. At that point, Mistress made me wear babydolls and high heeled slippers around the house. This then gave way to the maid's uniforms while I worked, the babydolls and slippers in the evenings, and anything I could find in her closet when I went to the store. Through all of this, I continued to wear the wedge-heeled sandals and hot pants to do my duties out in the yard. When I wore out the shorts, I switched to a pair of kaki kulats I'd found. When I wore out the sandals I switched to a pair of higher heeled wedge- heeled sandals. I just couldn't see myself wearing the maid's uniforms before the old man and the kid. Plus I didn't want to mess with the horrid spectacle of spike heels on grass. I figured Mistress would understand my dilemma. She didn't. One Monday night I stood in Mistress' bedroom looking at the grass stains on the wedge heeled sandals I'd worn to mow the lawn. Mistress waved the sandals in my face. "Can you explain this to me?" Not knowing what Mistress meant I decided to remain silent. "This is a grass stain on my new shoe! And I found grass blades on my kulats! Did you wear these and my kulats to do your yard work?" Her tone demanded an answer to this question. "Yes, Mistress." Her anger rose. "I can't believe this. What on earth made you think you could perform your duties out of your uniform? Do you think we buy you those uniforms because we like to see you in them? No, they are a part of you and we understand that. You needed them and now you have them, so you will wear them. Our finances are too tight for you to go wasting my money on your whims!" "What bull!" I thought. "When did I ever ask for any of this?" I said nothing though. Frankly, I didn't know what to say? I felt my knees begin to shake. My mind reviewed my options; it was a short list: drop to my knees and beg forgiveness, cry and pray for sympathy, drop to the ground and kiss her feet and swear never to disobey her again. What could I say at a time like that? "How dare you!" she screamed. I clenched my toes inside my slippers and tugged nervously at my skirt. The angrier Mistress got, the more childlike and helpless I became. My will, already broken, now shattered. "Please Mistress, I'm sorry." Tears began rolling down my cheeks. "I thought, since I may wear normal clothes to go shopping and. . ." "Don't you even try to explain this to me!" She tossed the sandals onto the floor and sat down on the bed, resting her head in her hands in disappointment. I remained standing. "I let you wear normal clothing to the store because it would embarrass me too much if everyone in town knew what for a sissy you are." Suddenly I felt genuinely ashamed of myself for all the bad thoughts I had earlier. Her tone became angrier again, "while you're here, whether in the yard or inside, you will wear your sissy uniform. You wanted it this way and now you've got it this way. Do you understand!" I was too scared to object to her assertion that I'd asked for this. I was also too ashamed of my behavior to object to her punishment. She was very lenient after all. "Need I repeat myself?!" I snapped back to reality quickly. I shook my head as I wiped the tears from my eyes. "No ma'am, I am sorry [sniff]. I should not have removed my uniform without your permission [sniff]." I couldn't bring myself to look Mistress in the eyes as I pronounced sentence on myself, "any additional punishment you deem proper is fair, Mistress." Mistress looked up at me, her frustration obvious. My knees knocked together, which was the only thing keeping me on my feet. Thoughts of all the humiliations she heaped on me lately coursed through my mind. I knew the power she held and I cringed in fear that she would unleash that power against me. Why did I offer to accept more punishment? Mistress remained silent. Her glare became too much for me, I dropped to my knees and grabbed her feet. "Please forgive me Mistress. I'll never disobey you again." If I wasn't so afraid of what she would do next, I think I would have started to wonder how I could have sunk so low. Maybe I could have saved some dignity. Looking back, I probably could have gotten her to agree to some sort of compromise, but I broke like a straw between her fingers. "I can see there is only one way we can sort this out. Come with me." Mistress grabbed my apron and pulled me to my feet. Then she led me to her closet. "We're going to go through my closet and remove all the items you may no longer wear. That is not to say that you can just go wily nilly wearing my clothes, but I can see the temptation is just too great for me to leave these hanging around in the open. If I let you chose anything you want any time you want, you'll keep picking out the same clothes and then they'll wear out too quickly." For the next half hour, I stood by motionless in my maid's costume and my four-inch high heeled sandals that Master Richard thought would look so cute on me, as Mistress went through her closet removing all of her pants, shorts, tee shirts, and low heeled shoes. When she finished, the only things left were dresses, skirts, and stilettos. It's funny because I don't even remember her owning stilettos when we first married. In fact, I don't remember her wearing high heels of any sort! Only since my transformation began, had she started wearing higher and higher heels. Now she even occasionally lounged around in very high stilettos. Despite her new found thrill for feminine footwear, she still often wore low heeled flats or medium heeled dress pumps to work or around the house. Likewise, she often wore dress slacks or jeans instead of skirts. All of these items went into the pile. I wondered if this meant she was going to start dressing more like she made me dress? The way she dressed for her dates with Master Howard! "Now pack these clothes nicely into this suitcase. Tomorrow I'll buy a lock and then you won't be tempted anymore." Mistress pulled a suitcase from the upper closet shelf. One by one, I packed all the clothes I'd been wearing to the grocery store into the suitcase. When I finished packing, Mistress ordered me to place the suitcase on the upper shelf. The surprise of my life awaited my effort to lift the suitcase. I pulled and nothing happened! I must have looked the total idiot with my knees together, and both hands on the suitcase handle, pulling with all my might to no avail. Nothing happened! I decided to remove my heels to gain some traction. I bent down and undid the little buckles. Mistress watched me fascinated. I hadn't been wearing heels this high for very long so my feet were greatly relieved to be out of them, but being flat footed was no longer exactly comfortable either. With my shoes off, I stepped over to the suitcase. My stocking toes dug into the carpet. I placed both hands on the handle for the second time and yanked with all my might. The suitcase left the ground for a second and then fell over - crashing out of my grip. "I'm sorry Mistress, we put too much into this suitcase. It's too heavy. I'll unpack some of it." Mistress shot off the bed, where she'd been sitting, watching the "Paula Show." "Wait honey." Mistress pushed passed me, slightly taller than me now that she wore heels and I'd removed mine. I watched in amazement as she placed ONE hand on the handle and lifted the suitcase off the ground. Granted, she was straining a bit, but she lifted it with one hand! And she wore relatively high heels! I felt paralyzed. I didn't know what to do or say. My mind couldn't comprehend what just happened? This had to be some sort of trick. How could my wife lift a suitcase so easily that I couldn't budge? Sure Master Todd could move the box which I couldn't, but that's different. He's a scrappy teenage boy. This felt so differently. I can't even begin to describe how emasculated I felt. And worst of all, my penis, the little traitor that constantly added to my humiliations, sprang up beneath my skirt. Instinctively I covered my penis with one hand. The other hand covered my mouth, which let out a soft gasp. There I stood, a picture of sexist femininity with one hand covering my private parts in modesty and the other hand trying to prevent the gasp from escaping my pouting lips. What had I become? Mistress set the suitcase down and shot me a wicked grin. She knew the advantage she now held over me! Suddenly she lunged at me. I turned to run away, tossing my arms up in the air - I ran as if I still wore my heels, even though I didn't. Mistress caught me from behind and tossed me onto the bed. I squealed like a teenage girl. She quickly turned me over, pinning my flailing arms against the bed. As I squirmed beneath her powerful body, Mistress reached one hand under my skirt. I tried to free my arms, but she held both of them tightly above my head with only her other arm! Her eyes pierced mine like daggers. Her warm hand wrap itself around my penis and testicles. My penis stiffened involuntarily. She began stroking and pulling on me. This was the first time she'd touched my privates with any intent of jerking me off since she began dating Master Howard! I wanted to have sex with her, I wanted to let her satisfy me, but not under these circumstances. I squirmed, trying to resist. "Please stop. Please." She ignored my pleas. I began to cry. After what seemed like an eternity, I felt my penis release its load into my skirt. Mistress withdrew her hand and cleaned it on my blouse. "Ha! You weak sissy! That was incredible! I never thought this would happen! Damn, girl! Things are really going to change now." She was right. From that moment on, I was the weakest person in the house and they treated me as such. Suddenly I not only needed to do all the housework and obey all commands, I now became subject to periodic strength tests. Mistress and Master Howard took great pride in pinning me down and making me try to lift objects that were too heavy for me. That reinforced my subservience to the nth degree. The following morning, after Mistress left for work, I went to her closet to measure exactly how weak I'd become. I tried to pull the suitcase from the shelf where Mistress placed it, but couldn't. Again, reminiscent of my misadventure with the box in the upstairs closet, I pulled her vanity chair to the closet and stepped up onto it - kicking off my heels first so as not to leave any marks on Mistress' chair. I didn't need her knowing what I'd done! In fact, I hoped no one found me this time! For the next half hour, I stood on my tiptoes, unloading the suitcase onto the closet shelf until it became light enough that I could pull it safely from the shelf. Despite my unpacking, the suitcase remained extremely heavy. Rather than dragging the suitcase to the bathroom, I brought the scale to the bedroom. The scale stood on the carpet so it wouldn't be accurate, but since I only wanted a rough estimate, I didn't need solid ground. As I lifted the suitcase onto the scale it read 50 pounds. Slowly I refilled the suitcase until I could no longer lift it. I stopped at 75 pounds! My God! I could lift 50 pounds - not easily, but I could not lift 75 pounds! How did this happen? Leaving the suitcase, I walked over to the mirror, afraid of what I would find. I looked at my body in the mirror. It was hard to see my shape beneath the maid's costume. It may be difficult to believe, but I really hadn't looked at myself in the mirror in months! I just didn't want to see what was happening to me. As I stood transfixed at my image, I stripped to my bra and panties. I studied my reflection. My waist seemed very small - much smaller than it was before. My stomach seemed very thin, even though Mistress swore I hadn't lost a pound of my 170 pound frame. My breasts were huge! They were now even larger than they'd been at any time before, even larger than when IT popped out during my date with Master Todd. As I fingered my bra my mind looked for an explanation of the size of these things. Eventually I settled on the idea that wearing the bras and corsets and other oddities which constantly squeezed the fat into that area caused this unnatural growth. I figured that if I stopped wearing these things, the fat would settle back down into the rest of my body. As my nipples sprung up underneath my bra, I returned to my voyeurism. My hips were definitely wider than before. My legs got a bit chubby and less muscular. My arms seemed very small. I knew they were weak. Then, for a brief moment, it struck me: "I look like a woman!" No fear, no shame, just acceptance and a bit of wonder. Just as quickly my mind readjusted, "of course, everything is distorted by the long mauve finger nails and the below-shoulder auburn hair. How could any man look like a man with those?" My fingers returned to my nipples. I felt my penis begin to rise in sympathy with my nipples. I forced my hand away from my breasts. "Well, without the hair and nails, I would probably look a lot more masculine - once the fat in my chest spreads out again. I can certainly use some working out though." That was actually the part I didn't understand. I worked all day long. I vacuumed, dusted, mowed, polished, etc. I moved all day long and yet my muscles shrank. How could that happen? Looking back, I guess what I didn't see then was that I didn't do any heavy lifting. Everything I did stretched my muscles without ever building them back up. Essentially, I stretched my muscles into oblivion. The more I worked, the more I broke down my muscles and the weaker I became. I didn't know this at the time though and I vowed to work even harder. Mistress had it all figured out. As I repacked and replaced the suitcase, I vowed to fight back. I vowed to work harder so that I would become stronger again. I vowed to find some way to regain my freedom and my manhood. Then I vowed to get even with Mistress and Master Todd. The only problem was how? The next day, Mistress locked the suitcase and, thereby, denied me access to less feminine clothing. Thus, two days after discovering my new weakness, I found myself faced with my first trip to the grocery store in an actual dress and excruciatingly high heels! I didn't know why this bothered me because I obviously had been wearing women's clothing for each trip so far, but it did. I picked a simple print dress and some brown pumps. As my heels clicked their way from aisle to aisle, a collection of stockboys followed my progress with great interest. They knew me as Stephanie already, so I didn't have much to worry about, but I definitely found the new attention uncomfortable! That would pass though - I hoped. At the checkout counter, one of the boys actually had the nerve to ask me if I was going somewhere special! I guess my slightly dressed up appearance struck them as unusual. How insulting! I didn't want a confrontation though, so I responded kindly, "no, I just thought I should start dressing nicer for the Mister. Thank you for noticing." Geek. "My pleasure!" He couldn't get his eyes off my breasts the whole time he spoke to me. But frankly, I no longer minded. Besides, that the closest he'd ever come to a set like mine, the geek. Wow, did I just say that? I did mind the following Monday though when I wore my uniform out on the lawn for the first time to do yardwork. I felt like an idiot kicking up divots with my heels and constantly having to watch my stance so my penis didn't pop out from under my skirt. Pushing a lawnmower in high heels is not an easy task! Since Mistress kept me on the exact same schedule day after day, the neighbors quickly learned when I would be outside doing my duties. That guaranteed my mowing the lawn would become quite the peep show. The guys liked the show. I first noticed that the old guy next door stopped working whenever I came out. Instead, he'd suddenly find the need to take a break. This meant sitting on his patio, sipping some sort of drink and watching me wiggle my ass as I struggled with my heels and delicate uniform. Naturally, the kid picked up my schedule too. Unlike the old man, who watched alone, the kid liked to bring over his friends. They always sat on the wooden fence and watched me. Sometimes they took pictures of me - I would have brought this up with the kid's mother, but I didn't need that confrontation either! I begged Mistress to change my schedule, but she refused. "I'm not going to vary your schedule just because you're shy about some kid." I continued begging, but my pleading only seemed to encourage Mistress. She got off on the attention I got. During the summer, Mistress liked to spice up the show by changing my outside uniform from the maid's costume and the four inch spiked sandals to a string bikini and a pair of the five inch platform high heeled sandals. I felt so vulnerable as I tried to walk the lawn, pushing the heavy lawnmower in front of me as my breasts bounced up and down in the bikini. Of course, this had the added negative effect of giving me really strong sissy tan lines! This also presented me with the problem of hiding my penis! Since Mistress refused to give me anything to hold my penis down, I needed to keep myself un-aroused! I tried literally everything to help with this problem and nothing worked. In the end, I could only freeze and cover my penis with my hands every time I got an erection. One day the kid even got a picture of me right at the moment my breast fell out of the bikini! How humiliating! I think no other event made me hate Stephanie more than this torture. This went well beyond anything else she'd done. It seemed to me she was getting more and more psychopathic as her dominance of me became total. Absolute power and all that I guess. I probably should explain all the problems I keep mentioning with hiding my penis. Since my little predicament began, I've seen several sources on cross dressing and drag queens and the such. Most of these mention one item or another that they use to hide their male genitals - "an uncontrollable bulge can be quite a telltale sign on an otherwise smooth dress" is how the advertisement goes. Mistress, however, refused to buy me anything along those lines. She said she wanted to remind me what I gave up. Consequently, the only thing I had to help me pull of this deception was the pair of panties she gave me each day to wear. This meant that every time I got excited, my penis stood at attention under the panties and my skirt bulged! When I wore very short skirts, like on dates with Master Todd or Master Michael and like the one on my maid's costume, there was always the danger that the skirt would ride up on top of my penis. This caused my penis to suddenly burst forth into full view! That is what happened to me the time with Master Todd in the car. That also happened several times in the yard and on other occasions. An example of the trouble this could cause me occurred one day as I was about to get out of a cab. I'd been thinking about a woman I saw at the grocery store and how much I liked her dress. The more I thought, the more aroused I became. I didn't know if I was turned on by the woman or dress. Any way, as I sat in the back of the cab driving home, my penis became erect and stood up like a tent pole underneath my skirt. I quickly set my purse down on top of my lap. As the guy pulled into our driveway, I needed to pretend to look for my house keys because I couldn't stand up without showing myself. The poor man didn't even get a tip because he left the meter running till I stepped out. During the time I spent waiting for my erection to shrink, the meter ate up all the money Mistress had given me for the ride - she liked to make sure I couldn't go anywhere she didn't sanction, so she often gave me exact change and then just enough to leave a small tip. Of course, the guy got a pretty good tip in the way I let him look down my dress as I pretended to search for my keys. You know, there was one other insidious aspect to this whole thing that never occurred to me until much later. Not only was I constantly reminded of my new feminine state and my lost manhood that wanted to reassert itself, I soon began to resent my penis for all the trouble and humiliation it caused me. When it shot up during my dealings with Master Todd, I actually wished it would go away! Over time though, it got erect less and less and it seem to be getting smaller. I was sure it was just my imagination, but it certainly scared me for a while! In an odd way though, I almost felt relieved! Things had really changed for me. It's hard to imagine what it was like unless you've been there and not too many people have been there - at least until recently (more later). In some ways, I felt like I lived in a prison. In some ways prison paled in comparison. Prison cuts you off from the outside world, but it still allows you to remain mostly yourself. My prison was relentless. Every second of every day, something reminded me of my new status. As I walked, the sound of my heels echoed throughout the room. The wind blew up my skirt. My bra tugged at my back and chest. My hair constantly fell into my face. My nails made simple tasks difficult - I even needed to use a pencil to type or dial the phone (Mistress made me call her after completing each task. She also made me type envelopes for her on the weekend.) Simple things now became complex. I could no longer get in and out of a car with any ease. Instead I needed to bring my feet together and then slide into and out of the car. I felt so silly pulling my skirt encased legs in after me! Mowing the lawn became very difficult as a result of my heels and my loss of strength. Cleaning got harder because I no longer had the strength to move large objects and because my nails made using my hands difficult. Getting dressed now took me hours! The list goes on and on. Any ways, back to the story. I think I mentioned that Master Howard moved into our house one summer. That's when I started to notice some odd things. For the past however long now, Mistress and Master Howard had been dating. Typically this meant that they would kiss and hold hands and carry-on like love birds right in front of me. Master Howard would often sleep over and, on those occasions, I heard them in my former bedroom laughing and giggling. For the most part, Master Howard ignored me. When he moved in though, he started taking a special interest in me. At first I figured that his moving in was good because Mistress would have less time to watch me. Before his moving in, she watched me every waking moment she was home. Even when Mistress wasn't home, because she was at work or out at dinner or a movie, she assigned me so many tasks that I literally had no time to myself. Of course, when she got home, the first thing she always did was verify that I did indeed do as she ordered. That was her way of controlling every moment of my day. Frankly, I wanted some privacy again. Even just a few minutes a day would make me incredibly happy! So naturally, I was happy that Master Howard would move in because I figured his presence would distract her. Instead, Master Howard simply added his surveillance to hers. I felt so tense. Master Howard also added some other aspects that made me less comfortable. Ever since I first found myself in this situation, Master Howard liked to humiliate me. He especially liked to buy me very sexy and ultra- delicate/ feminine clothing. I think he saw this as a way to guarantee that he held the advantage in the contest for my wife. Most of my really high heels and shortest skirts came as gifts from him. Even worse, for each gift he gave me, my own wife made me kiss him on the cheek! At first he just laughed when I did this. I guess he was laughing at the competition. Later he seemed rather contemptuous of me and would shove me away when I tried to kiss him - still he bought me more clothes. Then, after he moved in, he started to act more subdued - almost pleased when I went to kiss him. I attributed his change in attitude to the fact that he clearly won Mistress and defeated me completely. But he acted so strangely. I noticed that some mornings he kissed me good morning as I made his breakfast. On other days he helped me carry heavy items. And then, there were the little things. One day, after I finished painting my nails, I sat to slide my nylons back up my legs. He walked over to me and picked up my patent leather dress pumps (they allowed me to wear closed shoes and longer skirts in the winter). He checked his reflection in the high gloss on one of my shoes. Then he kneeled down and slid the shoe onto my foot. After that he took my hand and lifted me off the couch. Then he left the room. I didn't know what to make of that. Was he gay? Did he now think of me as a woman? I just didn't know. A few months(?) after Master Howard first moved in, Mistress held her second large garden party. This party was notable because of how its theme came about and how it went down. One night, as I sat in the diningroom re-polishing the silverware - Mistress made me repeat my work as punishment for a hard day at work - I heard Master Howard and Mistress arguing over something. I couldn't quite make out what the argument was, but I heard Mistress say "I don't want two sissies in this family." Master Howard responded, "It's only a gag." And Mistress responded, "you want to do it, then do it yourself you sicko." I placed my ear against the wall, but nothing else was intelligible. The next day, as Mistress worked, Master Howard came home early. He sat down on the couch and watched me work. After a few minutes, he started mumbling to himself. I couldn't tell too much of what he said, but I did clearly hear, "I don't need her permission to do this." Then he shot up off the couch and came over to me. "Pauline, come with me. There's something I want to do and I need your help." I followed him down the hallway dreading what was coming next. My imagination filled with hundreds of horrid possibilities. When he turned and headed to my room, I really feared for the worst! "Stephie put this damn idea in my head and now she wants me to forget it. Well, I'll tell you, I want to satisfy my curiosity." "Yes sir." "Good, I'm glad you understand." I didn't. He stopped in front of my closet. "Now listen to me Pauline. What we're about to do, well. . . I want you to forget we ever did this." I started to panic! I wondered if I could get away from him in these shoes! I KNEW that I was to be raped or worse! "Do you understand me? No one and I mean no one - not Stephie, not anyone ever hears about this." I began shaking all over. I heard myself blather out, "yes sir." "So you understand, even if Stephanie asks you directly what we did, you will lie to her and say nothing. You will endure any punishment she puts you through to maintain that lie. Do you understand?" What was he talking about? How could I disobey her to obey him? Frankly, I wasn't equipped to make that sort of judgement. I went on autopilot. "Yes sir." "Ok, let's get on with it." I looked at the door. I doubted I would make it to the stairs before he caught me. Every essence of my body wanted to run, but I was not prepared to up the ante by getting caught. I looked at him, my eyes begging him to let me go. Then suddenly, he turned and walked into my closet. I was shocked! What was he doing? I waited a few minutes as he rummaged around. Then he backed out of the closet with several of my clothes in his arms. "I don't think any of your dresses will fit me because you're too small - even before you finally started losing weight you were too small, but the underwear should stretch and my feet are only a size bigger than yours," he spoke nervously. Master Howard set the clothing on the bed and started stripping. I was in a daze. The next half hour passed in dreamtime. I still have vague memories of Master Howard getting naked and then pulling on some panties, a bra, some stockings, and a pair of shoes - only three inch heels, but I don't remember a thing he said. Finally, he sat down at my vanity and made me put him in make up. I obeyed without thinking. I guess I should have been laughing at the macho guy who voluntarily brought himself to my level, laughing at the competition who was no better than I at heart, but I couldn't. I didn't feel very good about the whole thing. When I finished with the make up and touching up his short hair as best I could, he stood up and wobbled his way to the full length mirror in the hallway. He cursed the heels and the makeup, which he'd smeared several times already. I followed him to the hallway. Master Howard stood primping in front of the mirror, checking out every part of his body. He was lost in a dream state. It was really strange to watch. If I'd caught him like this before my change, I would have taught him a thing or two about humiliation! Then he saw me watching him and he snapped out of it. He spread his feet into a swaggering, masculine, awkward pose and spat at me, "I knew it. Ha! I don't look a damn thing like you sissy." "Pardon me sir, but I don't understand." I figured I could take this liberty since Master Howard obviously was doing something he wasn't supposed to do. "Oh, yeah I guess this would be confusing for you. I just wanted to see something. Stephanie seemed to think that masculinity gives way to the clothing. I don't buy that. Look at me. I look like a normal guy in a dress, don't I?" "Yes sir." "I thought so. There isn't the slightest feminine thing about me. I'm not like you at all." He was talking to himself again. "Ha! There's nothing in me that would let her turn me into a sissy!" "What the hell is going on!" We both froze. I saw Mistress' reflection appear in the mirror behind us. "You sissy bastard! It isn't bad enough that I married one man who wants to be a damn woman, but now I'm dating another?!" Master Howard turned to face her. "It's not like that at all dear." "Don't give me that crap. You sicko!" Mistress turned and stormed back downstairs. Master Howard followed her. I stood there, chuckling. Later that night, Mistress made me polish her shoes in the livingroom. Master Howard walked in. He had returned to his business suit from earlier, except he still wore my heels! I guess he discovered just how much power Mistress wields. The next day Mistress allowed Master Howard to return to all male clothing, but she had a price. That night at dinner, she announced the second garden party of the season. She said the theme would be cross-dressing and she ordered Master Howard to do his best to promote the idea among the male guests. "If any of them don't come dressed as women, you'll spend a lot of time in drag to make up for their unwillingness. Paula could always use a hand around here." As I prepared for the party, I reluctantly stripped off my make up and nail polish. Even with my auburn hair and new shape, I feared that without my make up I'd start looking like Paul Green again. I looked at the clothing on the bed. In other circumstances, I would have been thrilled by what I saw! A man's suit complete with pants! Men's socks, underwear, and wing tips! Wow. I hadn't worn these since I lost my job so many eons ago! So why wasn't I happier? Well, for one thing, I still kept my long nails and my long auburn hair. I wasn't allowed to remove the polish from my toe nails. My body remained hairless. My shape remained female. I guess, I feared that no matter what I wore, I'd still look like a woman. That would be a difficult blow to my psyche. If I remained a woman even in men's clothing, how could I ever escape? I was also terrified that someone at the party would recognize me. You know, I should probably mention that, well. . . I guess, the other thing that bothered me about these clothes was that they were such a change. If I'm going to be completely honest as I promised, I must admit that I liked some of the aspects of female clothing and I wasn't too thrilled to give them up. It's like, you know, being naked for years and suddenly having to adjust to wearing a suit all day. You may realize that the suit is right for you, but you don't particularly like it because it's not comfortable now that you're used to being naked. Comfort actually became a bigger deal than I would have guessed. As I slipped into the cotton briefs, I instantly missed the silky feel of my panties. When I followed this up with the thick coarse pants, I felt positively restrained. It felt like wearing a heavy coat in the summer! For the first time in however long, no breeze caressed my legs! Polyester socks substituted poorly for silky stockings. The shirt (also polyester) felt very rough and ungiving against my nipples. This friction caused my nipples to become hard, but brought me more pain than pleasure. Imagine rubbing your penis softly with sandpaper. The jacket weighed so much that it felt like an anchor. Finally, the shoes. Oh my God! what can I say about those shoes?! These things sucked. They were heavy and thick. They were ungiving and stiff. Worst of all, they were flat! Within a minute, my feet began to hurt, causing a shooting pain to run up my legs. This pain became so intense that I removed the shoes and slipped back into my heels. As I entered the kitchen in my men's suit and women's heels, Mistress exploded. "What are you doing? Men don't wear heels! Go take them off!" "But Mistress, my feet." "I don't care. Go change." I returned to my room, bitter. I tossed the shoes on and returned to the kitchen. For the rest of the night, my feet were in constant pain. I came to hate those wingtips. When the party finally ended, I was so relieved I actually wore my heels to bed. By the end of the evening, I actually began to resent all of the clothes I wore. The shirt and socks felt scratchy and uncomfortably warm. The socks failed to protect my nail polish - each of my toes were horribly scuffed by those nasty shoes. The pants were uncomfortable as was the jacket. Without a bra, my breasts pulled extra hard on my chest, making my back hurt. My nipples were sore from constantly rubbing against the shirt. With each step, my breasts bounced up and down. By the end of the evening, I had small bruises all over them and I resented each one. I truly longed for my feminine finery. The party itself was a hoot. All the guys wore some form of dress or skirt. Most of them looked positively ridiculous, although a couple looked a little too good not to raise suspicion. The wives got a lot more fun out of the evening than the husbands. The women tended to separate from the men into little cliches that spent most of the night reviewing each of the guys. Later they rejoined their men for some heavy teasing. As payment for their humiliations, more than one man received a hand job underneath his skirt. I did note, by the way, that almost every woman wore female shoes. All in all, I was the only one there wearing men's shoes and I would have traded those for the world. As I stomped around in my uncomfortable costume, each and every man hit on me. I would have liked to humiliate them a bit about their costumes, but Mistress ordered me to "be demure." It positively disgusted me to see several of their penises sticking up underneath their skirts as they spoke to me. The other women seemed to enjoy the show though. The women kept coming up to me and saying stupid things like, "you must be so relieved to be out of that maid's uniform!" (Most of them saw me at the first party and a few saw me from a distance when they visited the house - Mistress liked for me to be seen, but not up close "I don't need you recognized.") They would also say, "I can't believe you wear such high heels. You must be so happy to be out of them." Little did they know. And "you're so pretty, there's no way you can pull off being a man." Gee, thanks. I guess this was the prevailing view because I won the "worst man" award. That was quite a shame considering my circumstances. Master Howard, "Missy" as he called himself that night, didn't win the "best woman" award but he came close. It amazed me how well Mistress managed his transformation into a woman! If she ever turned her powers against him, he'd easily replace me! When all was said and done, I did enjoy myself except for the constant pain! I have to believe, by the way, that Mistress fully intended to cause me pain. I mean, come on, there isn't a polyester object in the house! And if the other women could wear heels or women's flats, why did I need to wear wingtips? Well, her plan worked. After this party, my longing to return to male clothing subsided greatly. Even when I imagined myself as male again, I still saw myself complete with hair, make up, nails, and heels. Plus, I couldn't shake the image of the wide hips and proud breasts. Still, I should have tried right? With a man living in the house, why didn't I go get some male clothing and put an end to this whole affair? That's a fair question. All I can say is that it wasn't that easy. I found myself in Mistress' bedroom one day looking at all the male clothing in Master Howard's closet. My memories of the party kept my enthusiasm low. Still I pulled out a suit and held it up to me (Mistress destroyed all the clothes I'd worn to the party, except the shoes which Mistress kept locked up as a potential punishment for future misbehavior! How's that for a twist!). Master Howard was so much larger than I that I knew right away his clothes would never fit. Still I pulled the pants up over my maid's costume. Even with the short skirt and petticoats the pants were way too large for me - except in the hips. My rear end was obviously bigger than Master Howard's, but the rest of me was smaller. Even in the four inch heels, the pants hung down to the ground. The jacket was likewise way too large for me - except in the chest where it was snug. From this excursion, I realized that Master Howard's clothes would do me no good. I could have tried Master Todd's clothes - he was smaller than Master Howard, but he kept his room locked so I couldn't gain access. That's actually something I should mention. I eventually found out why he kept his room locked! Master Todd returned for the wedding ceremony only he hadn't returned alone. His new girlfriend, Barbara, didn't like me much from the get go and she let me know. Within a day or so, it became obvious that she really hated me. I guess she saw me as unfair competition for her boyfriend. It's not my fault she dressed like a man and had small breasts! My suspicions were confirmed a few nights later as I sat at my vanity table removing my make up. Barbara came storming into my room holding up a pair of pink panties. The panties looked like ones I'd lost many months before. I rose from my chair. We were about the same height, but in my high heeled mules I stood a few inches taller. "These belong to you." She tossed the panties in my face. "I found them in Todd's closet. Take them back bitch and don't you ever touch my Todd again! You little slut!" She slapped me across the face. I fell backwards a few steps, cringing in fear, expecting more. It didn't come. She stood there, frozen, with hatred written in her eyes - beneath her mannish eyebrows. "I hate you tramp!" she grunted through her tears as she stormed off. I fell to the floor and cried in relief for a few minutes. I guess that explained the locked closet and my missing panties? Ironically, Mistress already spanked me once for losing those panties - she thought I'd ruined them and tossed them out to hide my carelessness. I wonder if she would have felt guilty knowing she'd spanked the wrong party? Probably not. Fortunately, Miss Barbara picked a night to confront me when no one else was home. I didn't want to try explaining this one to a gawking crowd. I know I dropped the word "wedding" rather suddenly, but that's how it came to me - suddenly. One day as I polished the floor, Mistress walked in hand in hand with Master Howard. They'd both come from work so they both wore suits. Mistress' suit was gray with long slacks. She wore mid-heeled loafers with chunky heels and thick soles. Master Howard work a dark blue pin striped double breasted suit and a tie I liked a lot. His wingtips were impeccably polished, even if I do say so myself! "We have an announcement and we wanted you to be the fifth person to know." Mistress like to remind me that I was no longer the most important person in her life, though clearly she was the most important in my life. "Why don't you tell him Richard." "I think I'd rather you told her. She'll appreciate the irony more." Master Howard like to refer to me as a "her." Mistress only referred to me as "her" when we had company. "Alright, I'll tell him." They kissed, then she bent down and looked me straight in the eyes. A smile crossed her beautiful face. She reached out her hand and grabbed my chin between her fingers. "We're getting married!" I dropped my brush. She rose again. "Well not really married. We're going to go through a ceremony, but not do anything official. I wouldn't want to be accused of bigamy." She looked at me, kneeling on the floor before both of them. I saw her eyes run the length of my body starting with the high heels I wore, the silver polish on my toenails, my feminine legs, my ruffled maid's costume, my enormous breasts, my long soft auburn hair, and finally my painted face. Some picture of a husband I made! "Well, aren't you happy for us dear?" This question was obviously rhetorical. "Your services will, of course, be required. Never fear about that. You belong to this household. Tonight though, we'll be eating out. You can eat the sandwich I didn't finish at lunch yesterday. Afterwards, why don't you polish all of my and Richard's shoes. Then get dressed for bed. I expect you to be in bed by 8:30 tonight." They walked out. I did as required. Mistress knew exactly what she was doing by sending me to bed early. She knew that I would not be able to sleep because my body new to fall asleep at 9:00 sharp and not before or after. The entire time I lay there I had nothing to do but think about what was about to happen. Soon I found myself crying like a baby. I don't know how long I cried, but I know I didn't stop before I fell asleep. The next day the wedding preparations began. Mistress planned for a small ceremony in the back yard in about two weeks. They planned to invite about twenty five friends and their husbands or wives. Typing up the invitation was left to me - my nails were so long I had to use a pencil to do the typing! Cleaning up the back yard was left to me too. So was making the decorations, preparing the cooking, shopping for the food, and making alterations to all of the wedding dresses! Not only did I need to help prepare my wife's wedding dress - think about the irony in that one!, but I also helped any bridesmaid or usher or anyone else in the wedding party who needed alterations. All of this was heaped on me in addition to my regular duties. Mistress ran me ragged that whole week! As I sewed all of the very lovely bridesmaid dresses, I began to dread the wedding. Horribly though, my dread stemmed from my not knowing how I would be dressed, not the fact that my wife was about to belong to another man - if she really could belong to a man and not the other way around! Towards the end of the first week, something really strange happened that would have profound consequences. I had just returned from the grocery store to find Master Howard asleep naked on the couch. I wore a lovely flower print sundress and these very sexy multi-colored sandals that Mistress bought me as a "wedding gift." Any ways, Master Howard often slept on the couch. Sometimes he slept naked. It did not surprise me to find him such. I set the groceries down in the kitchen and returned to the livingroom. I wanted to wake Master Howard and ask him to help me bring the foldout chairs from the garage to the backyard. I figured my clicking heels must have woken him up, but he still slept. As I entered the livingroom, I couldn't take my eyes from his penis! I don't understand why I felt so fascinated. The idea of seeing another man naked or touching a naked man or kissing one or anything else that belongs exclusively in the domain of men and women together sickens me more than I can explain with mere words. That's what makes what happened next all the more surprising. I stood transfixed, watching his stomach rise and fall softly with his breaths. He definitely slept. His right leg was draped up over a couch cushion. His left leg rested on the floor. Between his legs, his incredible penis hung, swaying slowly with his breaths. It was soft right now, and it still measured six inches long and two inches in diameter! Even before my ordeal began, my penis never measured that size - except when hard! Suddenly, my legs began moving. I found myself creeping closer to him - the sound of my heels clicking off the hard wood floors echoed like gunshots. He still slept. I knelt down between his legs. I wanted, no, that's not right. . . I needed to see his penis at its full glory. I needed to see the competitor that stole my wife and turned me into the thing that knelt before him. With my head less than two feet from his organ, a wicked thought crossed my mind. I reached into my purse and pulled out a pair of scissors. I could rob my competitor of his greatest weapon! "We'll see if Mistress still marries him when he no longer has this!" Slowly, my right hand reached out towards his testicles. My left hand gripped the scissors tightly. My right hand pushed through his pubic hair. He wiggled! I froze. When I satisfied myself that he would not awake, my red tipped fingers continued their journey. I felt giddy and nauseous at the same time as my fingers wrapped around his testicles and gave them a little squeeze. "Say good bye boys!" But then, without warning, his shaft began to expand. I thought about raising the scissors and exacting my revenge, but I was instantly overcome with a stronger impulse. I needed to see his penis in action! I set the scissors down. Free again, my left hand wrapped itself around his enormous shaft. It grew beneath my soft fingers. It felt soft and silky and warm. I felt my own mini-penis become erect as well. Slowly, I stroked his shaft up and down. I was transfixed by its pulsating mass. What was I doing? Why couldn't I stop? I still don't know today. It was like some sort of dream state. I had no choice but to go where my impulses took me. All I can figure is that this was my form of revenge? No, I don't buy that either. I think this just has to go down to loneliness and curiosity. As Master Howard's breathing grew faster and faster, my stroking kept pace. I could tell that he neared explosion! My own penis neared explosion as well! This was exciting! This was the first thing I'd done without someone else's permission in months! I could sense he was near bursting. Just then it hit me - where could I put the semen? Without slowing my pace I looked around for an ashtray. No one here smoked! There were no glasses around and no towels! I thought, maybe I could let him shoot off into my purse? No, I couldn't see myself applying semen stained lipstick and mascara for the next couple of weeks. My shoe! Damn, I was wearing sandals. I guess I could let him shoot off against my dress? No. This dress was silk and would stain and Mistress wanted to see me in it when she got home in a few minutes. I quickly became desperate looking for somewhere to land his fluid! Needless to say, I was too excited to stop stroking his penis - besides, at this point he would ejaculate one way or another. I'd rather control the expulsion, than let him wonder why he shot a load onto the floor and couch. My time to think ran out. I felt his body jerk. I knew what came next, I had to act now. In the split second left to me, I did the only thing I could think of. I placed my lips around his shaft and took the load in my mouth. My revenge against him, turned into yet another humiliation for me. As his salty fluid filled my mouth, I began to gag. Unlike Masters Todd and Michael, Master Howard ejaculated so much semen that my entire mouth filled up. I wanted to spit it out, as Masters Todd and Michael had allowed me, but it was just too much to hold in my mouth until I could get to the bathroom. I tried, but I began to gag halfway there. I swallowed most of it. The rest remained spread around my mouth. I needed mouth wash and fast! If history is any guide, it teaches me that I cannot win. Things not only go wrong with me, they go more wrong than I ever thought possible. What began as a bit of fascination about an object I no longer owned in abundance and had turned into twisted thoughts of a humiliating revenge, had become a horrible form of humiliation which saw me on my knees of my own volition, filling my mouth with my tormentor's semen! What could be worse than that? Only one thing. Master Howard woke up as I began my mad dash to the restroom! "Hold it sweetie." I froze, my mouth still full of half swallowed semen. "Turn around." I did as ordered. Master Howard smiled at me. My eyes instinctively fell to his penis, which was slowly growing again. "I had this great dream I want to tell you about. Apparently, some beautiful woman sucked on my cock. Imagine my surprise to wake up and find my penis wet with saliva, a bit of cum dripping out of it, and your little sissy body running away from me as fast as your gay feet would take you." I remained motionless, aware that he could do anything he wanted to me and I had no recourse. His response shocked me. He laughed. "You do a better job of it than Stephie, that's for sure." I smiled more out of confusion than approval. A drop or two of semen slipped out from between my lips. I didn't know what to say. I hoped he wasn't going to ask me to repeat my performance. The taste of the semen was still burning a hole in my mouth and my mind. I NEEDED to get some mouth wash. I couldn't leave this in my mouth for much longer! "You got a little bit on your lips." Master Howard moved closer as he wiped at my mouth with his finger. "Go ahead, lick it off." He held his finger in my face. I did as I was told. "Uh, uh! A little slower and sexier. Pretend it's my penis which you like so much." I wanted to cry, but thought better of it. Slowly, I ran my tongue around his finger in tight spirals, as if I were teasing it. Finally he said enough. "Good girl. Now go rinse out your mouth before Stephie gets home." I turned and started down the hallway. He pinched my rear as I turned. "Make sure to shake your tush. You'll have to do that perfectly to handle the little task I'm going to assign you." That sounded like a threat. I didn't care though, I was thinking about mouthwash. That night I dreamed about giving him a hundred blow jobs. Oh boy. Every day I seemed to fall in deeper. Day by day my muscles shrank. I became weaker and weaker until I couldn't even lift 50 pounds anymore. I began weighing myself religiously. I went from a slightly overweight 175 pounds to a very underweight 145 pounds. Mistress still insisted that I hadn't lost a pound! For some reason she kept lying to me about this. I still don't know why. All I can figure is that she saw all this flab on my body and she figured I needed an incentive to lose it. I decided not to let on that I knew she was lying. That flab I mentioned showed up most prominently in my breasts, which kept growing and growing. By now they were huge! How huge? Think of them as grapefruits instead of the oranges they were when Todd first got his hand on one. And compare that to the grapes they were when I first noticed them. And compare that to the nothing I used to have! I tried to weigh one on the scale but I couldn't figure out the mechanics of the whole thing. I guess they weighed a few pounds though. It took a B cup bra to contain them - and even then they were straining to spring free. Unfortunately, all this fat pressing against the skin was causing my nipples to stretch! The big part had gone from the size of a nickel to a half dollar and the nipple itself from the size of a pencil lead to a pea. I hoped that would reversed itself too when the fat left my chest again! In addition to size, all this fat was extremely sensitive. Any time someone touch my breasts, I felt an electric charge shoot down my spine and my whole body was instantly turned on. There was no quicker way to cause an erection than to fondle my breasts! Even Mistress' hand on my penis did not bring it to full erection as quickly as a light touch on one of my breasts! Sometimes I couldn't get hard without involving my breasts! This wasn't so bad though. I kind of enjoyed having these sexual toys on my chest - they made up for my shrinking penis (which I finally attributed to tight panties!). In the meantime, my waist kept shrinking. I couldn't understand that. How could my breasts grow if my waist shrank? Mistress controlled my diet and I ate a good deal - I wasn't starving - so I shouldn't have lost too much weight if any. But I lost a lot of weight. So if I lost weight, how could I grow so round? How could I grow so big in some areas and simultaneously lose mass? All the weight I lost in my muscles in my arms and legs and chest must have turned to fat and spread to my chest, hips and rear. I must have looked ridiculous! Strangely, my feet seemed to change as well. I don't mean that they shrank or grew or anything, but wearing high heels day after day after day slowly accustomed my feet to the angle. Soon I literally couldn't walk without them. Can you believe that? I could take a few steps, but then my feet would start to hurt and I would need to rise back up onto my tiptoes. The first time I actually got my hands on some flat shoes (they belonged to Barbara), I took only a couple of steps before I actually needed to pull my feet out of the shoes just so that I could stand on my toes to end the pain! This got worse as the days passed. Heaven help me when my shoes prevented me from getting back up on my toes - like the wingtips. The worst punishment Mistress inflicted on me was to make me switch to those damn wingtips! Low heeled shoes weren't too comfortable either, but they weren't as bad flats. Of all the changes, this seemed the most ominous because it made my escape much more difficult - how could I run away in pumps? I guess the real question is how I could let this happen to me? Why didn't I kick off the heels the moment I was alone and walk flat-footed all day? To tell the truth, the thought just never occurred to me! At first I wore them all the time because I needed to work hard just to balance in the shoes. I needed as much practice as I could get. Then for a while, Master Todd was there and I was never alone. By the time he left, I guess I was just accustomed to wearing them. And then the pain started whenever I didn't wear them. And frankly, I just didn't feel right in flats. I walked better and I balanced better in heels. That's all there was to it. So you see, it was natural for me to end up wearing them all the time. It was inevitable. Wearing high heels for the first time is an experience that is hard to explain to anyone who hasn't had the privilege. Most women know what I mean, but I doubt too many guys do. It's the strangest feeling to gain three or four inches in height. Suddenly, your whole world takes on a different view as you see everything from a little higher. Things once familiar instantly become new. Door knobs rest lower than they should. Items dropped fall farther away than they use to. Even people seem changed as you look down into their faces where formerly you looked up. This new height at first gives one a feeling of power. They say a man is master of all he surveys; wearing high heels increases what you can survey and, thus, you immediately feel more grand. However, this feeling of power quickly vanishes as you realize that your new found empire is precariously balanced. The first wobble or shaky step teaches the high heel wearer that he or she is vulnerable to the world around him or her. High heels are unforgiving, there is no recovery from any false step. Just a thought. Master Howard started treating me much nicer after the recent events. With the wedding coming up, neither he nor Mistress had much time to deal with me on a personal level. Still Master Howard smiled at me more and he often found time to help finish my tasks. He also started calling me Pauline, which was a more respectable name than the derogatory way he'd been saying "Paul-a" or the outright insulting "sissy." About a week and a half before the wedding, Mistress came home with a box of videotapes. "I brought these for you to watch." I was intrigued. As I may have mentioned, my life had changed in many ways besides the physical changes. If you'll recall, Mistress cut me off from the outside world. As the days passed, I slowly forgot more and more about the outside world. I hadn't read a paper or watched the television in so long I couldn't even tell you who was President. I remember asking Mistress who won the election, but she refused to tell me. She just gave me a snide, "which election honey?" and walked off. Mistress and Master Howard often discussed the news, but they always forced me to leave first. As I explained before, they used a child lockout device on the tv to keep me from watching tv and they refused to buy me any magazines except fashion magazines. Master Todd didn't help either because he seemed to revel in my ignora