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The Housewife Part 3 By JaneDough7 Chapter 7 Anne Johnson relaxed, enjoying the warm, oiled and perfumed bath water. She smiled. She had found the solution to her problem. No longer would she have to put up with Bill's molestations, she though. And that's what they were to her: molestations. Bill didn't 'make love' with her. He used her. Used her as if she were the lowest of whores. Forced her to do the vilest things in bed. No longer would she be forced to use her mouth on her husband's genitals for long periods of time, and then be told to do disgusting things with his semen. No longer would she be forced to 'get into the bitch position,' as Bill put it, and be taken anally. Some women seemed to enjoy taking it that way, Anne thought. Gay men seemed to thrive on it. But not she. She found it humiliating and painful and not in any way pleasurable. Despite the abusive way Bill treated her in the bedroom, Anne did love her husband. Bill was like a Jekyll and Hyde, she thought. The perfect gentleman outside of the bedroom. Witty, charming, handsome, and a great provider. But in the bedroom, he was awful. Truly perverted. But she believed she had solved her problem. She had found a young man who would take her place. And all she needed was a little video footage of their upcoming relationship, and she would be home free. Once she had some video of the two of them together, she would have something to hold against him if he ever decided to try to use her again. His career as a high-powered executive meant the world to him, and she knew he would do anything to prevent the exposure of an inappropriate relationship with a sissy. Chapter 8 As I loaded the dishwasher, I thought, "Mrs. Bill Johnson. Mary. My name is Mary, and I'm to become a housewife." I could not get the thoughts out of my mind. She gave me her name. I started the dishwasher, and then moved to the kitchen table. Sprayed some Endust on it, and wiped the table clean. Anne had finished bathing and entered the living room, wearing a towel, turban style, and a terry-cloth bathrobe. "Mary, I have something to give you. Let's go to the bedroom." I followed her to the bedroom. "Mary, I've been giving this a lot of thought... I want to have you feeling as womanly as possible as soon as possible, and I think it will help you to always be dressed in the clothes of a woman. Always. But most importantly, the clothes you wear must not be new clothes... no... the clothes you wear must have been owned and worn by another woman. Feminine hand- me-downs for our new girl." She continued. "What I'm saying, Mary, is that this, this bedroom, is now YOUR bedroom. Now that you will be the woman of the house, this is where you will sleep. I will sleep in one of the guest rooms." I was stunned. She walked over to the vanity. Holding up a bottle of perfume, she said, "This is yours." Then a lipstick. "This too." A jar of brushes. "And these... everything is yours." She walked over to the closet. "Come here." I joined her in the walk-in closet. Picking up a dress, she said, "This is your dress, Mary. This skirt: yours. These blouses, yours as well. Don't look so shocked, Mary, we are a very wealthy family. I'll just take this opportunity to totally re-do my wardrobe." She left the wardrobe, and walked to the bureau. Opening the top left drawer, she said, "Your bra and panties." Opened another drawer. "Your camisoles and slips. Everything in this room is yours. Well, everything except Bill's things. Oh, and my jewelry. I'm keeping my jewelry. We'll have to get you some of your own, soon." Reverently and sincerely, I said, "Thank you, Mrs. Johnson." She said, "Mrs. Johnson. You like calling me 'Mrs. Johnson,' don't you. Well, now there are TWO Mrs. Johnson's living in this house. Now that we're both women, I'll let you call me Anne if you want. Or Mrs. Johnson. "Yes, Anne. And thank you, thank you so much." I meant it. As a cross-dresser, this was a dream come true. I now was the proud owner of dozens of dresses, dozens of skirts, gowns, a full set of women's lingerie, makeup, vanity, the entire feminine works. She continued with a smile, "You are welcome, Mrs. Johnson. Welcome to your new life. Now then, I want you to make yourself at home. Relax and rest for a while. In an hour, we'll go shopping for some things you'll need. But in the meantime, please, make yourself at home." "Shopping?" "Yes, Mary, shopping." "But what will I wear?" Mrs. Johnson laughed out loud. "You really are becoming SUCH a woman. Why, you'll wear a dress. The one you have on, if you like, or something else. No pants for you, however. Not like there's many in this bedroom, besides Bill's. But the couple pair of pants in your new wardrobe are off-limits for the time being. Until further notice, it's only skirts and dresses." "But I can't go out wearing a dress!" "Yes, you can, and you will." "But Anne!" "No 'buts', Mary! Are you already forgetting that you promised to obey my every command?" I hesitated, and with downcast eyes, I said, "No, Ma'am." "Good. I'll call for you in an hour to get you ready for shopping. In the meantime, enjoy yourself. I hope you'll masturbate a couple of times so that hard-on of yours won't be a problem when we go out." "Thank you, Ann.e" "You're welcome, Mary. Enjoy." Anne moved to leave the bedroom, then I remembered. "Anne... are the cameras still running?" "Yes, they are. But I'll turn them off now. I give you my word. I want you to feel comfortable. I'll call you in an hour." She left the bedroom, and shut the door. I sat on the edge of the bed, overwhelmed by what had just happened. The news that we were going shopping, with me in a dress, made it difficult for me to even think of pleasuring myself. I was not at all looking forward to going out in public, and dreaded what might happen. I stood up, and decided to take Anne's suggestions that I explore my new bedroom. I started with the top left drawer, the drawer which contained my bras and panties. MY bras and panties. I had to keep reminding myself that they were now MINE. I opened the drawer. The last time I opened this drawer, it was to steal panties. Now, I opened the drawer because the contents were MINE. I wanted to know everything about the lingerie that was now mine. I removed the drawer, and dumped the contents onto the bed. I read the tags on the bras and panties. Vasarette. Playtex. Hanes Her Way. Bali. Lillyette. Vanity Fair. So many brands, and so many styles, and I found ALL of them EXTREMELY appealing. Feminine not just because they were made for women to wear, but that they were, until several minutes ago, the property of a housewife. And, now that I thought about it, they STILL WERE the property of a housewife. Me. The intercom buzzed. Mrs. Johnson had not left the room for three minutes, and already she was buzzing me. I walked to the intercom and punched the TALK button. "Yes?" "I'm sorry, Mary, for disturbing you. But I forgot to give you one thing. I gave you all my lingerie, except for the lingerie I am wearing. Do you want them now, or would you like them later?" I remembered... she was wearing those floral briefs. The nylon briefs she wore when she showed her ass to me and let me jerk off. To me, they were the most feminine, most exciting panties in the world. She was wearing them, right now, and asked if I wanted them. She did not have to ask me twice. I hit TALK. "Ummm... yes, Anne, thank you. I would love that." "Well then, come and get them!" I quickly exited the bedroom and went to the living room. Anne was standing in the middle of the room, in all her feminine glory, hands on her hips. "On your knees, in front of me, Mary." I quickly complied. She reached for the hem of her dress, and raised it well over her hips, exposing yet again her floral nylon panties. "Go ahead, remove them." I reached up with both hands, found the waistband of her panties, and slowly started to lower them. Her pubic triangle became exposed, and I could not help but stare. "Keep going. Remove them." I lowered the panties to her ankles, then she raised one leg, then the other, helping me remove the panties. "Look at them. Look at my panties... look at YOUR panties." I held them in front of my face at eye level. Yet again, I was taken aback at the sheer womanliness of her panties. "They're still warm, aren't they, Mary? Hold them against your cheek." I did so, and could feel the warmth. "Smell them, Mary. Smell the panties I was just wearing. Turn them inside-out, and smell the part that was just against my pussy." Mrs. Johnson started to touch herself... rubbing her genital area, slowly playing with herself. "DO IT, Mary! Smell my panties!" I turned the panties inside-out, and found the front of the gusset... the part where I figured her pussy had been. She began rubbing herself more intently. I raised the panty to my face, then pressed the gusset to my nose. With my mouth closed, I inhaled deeply. The aroma was intoxicating. I had never smelled anything like it, but I knew I would never forget it. I knew I was smelling the essence of a woman on these panties, and I was hooked. I inhaled again. "Let me hear you sniffing my panties. I want to hear it!" She was now rubbing herself fully. As I held her panty crotch to my nose, I sniffed much as a dog might sniff, with repeated, short, noisy sniffs. "Get up!" she commanded. "Follow me!" I knew she was not to be disobeyed, and the excitement was tangible. "And bring those panties!" I followed Mrs. Johnson as she walked rapidly and with a purpose to one of the guest bedrooms. I stood by the door, unsure of what to do as she pulled up her skirt over her hips, then climbed onto the bed and positioned a couple of pillows under her head. She then spread her legs wide; knees up, soles of her feet touching the bed. "Get on your knees, in front of the bed." I did as she said, got on my knees at the foot of the bed, and between her widely spread legs, our eyes met. Her pose was very erotic... legs spread, totally exposing her vulva to me. She said, "You want to be a woman, but you don't know the first thing about women. You've never even seen a woman's genitals before today, and yet you want to be a woman. Look at my vulva. Have you ever seen a more feminine sight in your life? Go ahead, look at it. That's what you want, isn't it? You would like to look like that, between your legs, wouldn't you?" "Oh yes, Anne, very much so." "Of course you do. You want to be a woman, and this is what women look like, between their legs. Since you want to become me, to become a woman, you need to know as much about my genitalia as I do. You need to know everything about what makes women different from men. But we've got a lot of work to do... you've never even had sex! Well, as part of your housewife training, I'm going to make sure you become VERY familiar with at least one woman's sex organs. Now, get closer." I moved up to the bed, positioned my elbows and head so I was closer to her. "Closer, Mary. I want your head here." She indicated about two feet from her crotch. "This is what being a woman is all about. Look at me. Look at my femininity. This is what makes me a woman. Well, to be more exact," she said, and then spread her labia wide, wide enough to expose and open her vagina, "THIS is what makes me a woman. Go on, look. Look at my vagina." I did, and could see partially inside of her, inside of her vagina, the place which enabled her to become the mother that she is. "Do you LIKE looking at a housewife's vagina? Could you ever dream of being THIS feminine? This is what you dream of, isn't it? You dream of being this feminine, this womanly. Can you imagine what it would be like, to live life with THIS between your legs? How would that make you feel?" I was speechless. I had never in my life seen something so exciting. This beautiful woman, wife, and mother, showing me her most intimate anatomy, so explicitly. "So, from now on, whenever you hear or say the word 'feminine', this is what I want you to think about. This is what I want you to aspire to. This is what I want you to dream about. You will devote your life to becoming as feminine as this." "Now, I want you to lick me. Lick my vulva. Lick me fully and completely. Do not touch me with anything but your tongue and mouth. Don't try to give me pleasure, just lick every part of my genitals." She continued to hold her lips open wide. I moved closer, very close, then stuck my tongue out and began to lick. Lightly licking her most private area. Her smell was overwhelming... a musky, spicy smell. And although I had never tasted what I was tasting now, I knew I would always remember vividly what a woman's most intimate area tasted like. As I played with Mrs. Johnson's vulva with my tongue, she said, "You know, Mary, that you will never use your penis to penetrate a woman. Never. You have never known intercourse as a man, and now that you're becoming a woman, you never will. The only penetration you will ever do will be that which is possible for women. With your tongue. Now, put your tongue in my vagina." I complied, and inserted my tongue as deep as I could into her vagina. "Just keep your tongue there, Mary. Keep your tongue in my vagina, my birth canal. Your tongue is now in the same place that Bill's penis was, when he made me a mother. Keep your tongue there for a while longer, and think about it. Your tongue is now inside, INSIDE of a housewife's vagina. Inside me. Now, go back to licking. Lick me fully." "Do you know where a woman's clitoris is? Lick my clit. Pleasure me, Mary. Take your time, but pay attention to my clitoris, and lick." I knew where a woman's clitoris was. I had seen enough dirty videos to know that. I licked her spot like I had seen in the videos. "Good girl... that's it... lick me, Mary, lick me." She lightly grabbed my ears, using them as handles to make sure I was not going anywhere. I was beside myself with lust, but following Mrs. Johnson's direction, I could not touch myself. That did not prevent me from involuntarily humping the bed as I ate this housewife. Mrs. Johnson reached down and opened her labia wide, giving me better access to her clitoris. "Eat me, Mary! That's it... keep doing that! Ohhhhh... Eat a housewife's pussy! Eat a married woman!" As I lapped at her clitoris, I continued to hump the bed, quicker and quicker. It did not take long... I came in my panties. I continued to lick Mrs. Johnson. "Oh my god, Mary... I'm coming! Lick me, sweet girl... make me come!" Her grip on my ears tightened as I continued to lick her. Her hips bucked... then again. She cried out, "Ohhhh!" as her hips rhythmically pulsed at my face. "Oh, Mary... my sweet, sweet girl... it's been so long since anyone has done that to me. Bill won't do that for me. But you will. Oh yes... I hope you liked that, Mary, because you're going to be doing that A LOT." "Oh yes, Mrs. Johnson! I loved that! I'll lick you any way you want, any time!" "Well, that goes without saying." "I came, Mrs. Johnson." "I know. I saw you humping the bed. I understand. You couldn't help yourself. Actually, it was rather flattering to me... that you liked being between my legs that much that it turned you on enough to make you come. Now, go and take a shower. I'll gather some clothes for you. Chapter 9 I removed my shirtdress, bra and panties, and tossed them into the hamper. I couldn't believe what had just happened. Mrs. Johnson had showed me her vagina! She spread her legs, and her lips, and let me see her most intimate area. Let me put my tongue INSIDE her. Had me lick her until she came! I climbed into the shower in a daze, and washed up. Got out, toweled dry, wrapped a towel around myself for modesty, and went to the bedroom. Mrs. Johnson stood up and walked over to her bra drawer. "Sit, Mary." She indicated on the bed. I complied, and sat on the end of the bed. "Well now, I think we'll begin your education with bras. Let me make it clear... you will ALWAYS wear a bra unless I say otherwise or unless you are bathing. That means sleeping, eating, walking, talking, anything, you will do it in a bra. Am I clear on that, Mary?" "Yes, Anne. I will always wear a bra." She chirped, "Good! Good girl!" She looked down at my towel-covered crotch. I was hard. "Go ahead, take it out... stroke it, Mary." She did not have to ask me twice... I let my hand begin to pleasure myself. "Now then, I'll help you today, with bra selection, but you'll soon learn how to select the appropriate bra for whatever outfit you'll be wearing. "Now then, you know the kinds of bras that are in that drawer. Every kind of bra from utilitarian work-out bras, to everyday cotton bras, to push-up bras, to more risque bras designed to excite male passion, bras designed to create and display cleavage... "What kind of bra do you want to wear? On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the most womanly, what kind of bra do you want to wear? Do you want to wear just a basic, every- day woman's bra, or do you want to wear..." then she whispered in my ear, "the most womanly... bra... I own." Mrs. Johnson obviously had something in mind. And I was dying to know what kind of bra Mrs. Johnson thought was the most womanly bra in her bra drawer. I stroked my cock more rapidly now... I was rock-hard. I looked Mrs. Johnson in the eye, and said, "I want to wear the most womanly bra you own." She smiled, and walked over to her bra drawer. She was looking hard for something... really reaching deep into her bra drawer. "Ah! I knew I still had it!" She pulled a bra out of the drawer, and displayed it. It was obviously a nursing bra... recognizable as a nursing bra from twenty yards away. The bands had to be three inches wide... a very utilitarian cotton... the cups decorated with a cottony lace pattern. But it was the hooks at the top of the cups that caused my blood to run cold. The hooks placed and engineered so as to make it as easy for the nursing mother as possible to expose her nipple to offer suckle. "Mary, whenever I ask you, 'How feminine do you want to be', you will answer, 'as feminine as a nursing mother.' Do you understand, Mary?" "Yes, Anne, I understand." Mrs. Johnson was adjusting the sliders on the bra straps. As she made the bra straps longer, she asked me, "How feminine do you want to be, Jason?" "As feminine as a nursing mother." She looped the shoulder straps of the nursing bra through her fingertips and held it before my eyes. "What do you think? Is this not a womanly bra? This bra may very well be the most feminine bra I own... I was about ready to throw it out... I've worn it through three pregnancies and the hooks are about to go. Do you like it? Do you like my nursing bra?" She continued to seductively fondle the brassiere with her fingers. I gasped. "Oh yes, Mrs. Johnson!" She smiled. "Is this not one of THE most womanly bras you have ever seen?" "Yes, Mrs. Johnson! That is THE most womanly bra I have ever seen!" "I'm not sure, Mary. This bra might kill you. You might just instantly transform into a woman the instant you have it on. That would be the natural result of a male putting on a woman's nursing bra... the bra she wore to nurse her babies... how could any real man survive five minutes in such a feminine garment? How could any male live down the shame in knowing he BEGGED to wear a housewife's well-worn nursing bra?" I was mad with lust. I had to wear that bra. I would do anything to wear that bra. "Then I'm going to make you wear the sheerest of my blouses... the nursing bra will be literally displayed... the kind of blouse a woman who rather shamelessly wants to display her bra would wear. When I've padded out the bra to something approximating a forty double D, all that blouse will do will draw attention to the bra underneath. When you meet someone new, it will be apparent to them within the first few moments that they are meeting someone with an obviously buxom silhouette. And then they will know that you are a sweet nothing... a chickie babe who is worthless for anything but flaunting her femininity... and then they will stop pretending to be interested in you and then just out and out gaze leeringly at your cleavage... and then they will make it out. The hooks at the top of the cups, the ability to open the cup's flaps to expose the breast for feeding." Mary Johnson's nursing bra. I could have died. As a transvestite, I knew I could never expect another moment like this in a lifetime. I may as well die after tonight, because to me, this had to be the greatest moment in history. She could tell how it affected me. I was as guileless as a puppy. She shot me a look... a look that surprised me. Up until now, when she had made me do some particularly feminine act, she was angry and was trying to humiliate me. But this time... she was amused, oh yes, but I saw some compassion there... and a look that said it was alright for a man to find the thought of wearing a woman's nursing bra were perfectly acceptable, and that she wanted to help. She smiled, and said softly, "Say it." She knew. She knew what a profound moment this would be to a dedicated transvestite and bra fetishist. And her asking me, in such a nice way, asking me to beg to wear that bra... that... I looked at it again, and rammed my cock violently. I had never seen such a feminine sight. The sight of Mrs. Johnson, holding what had to be a three year old, remarkably clean but obviously well and properly used, maternity bra. "Please, Mrs. Johnson, can I wear your Playtex Expectant Moments nursing bra?" "Of course, Mary. Of course. She stepped over to me. "Give me your left hand... keep whacking with your right hand. Do NOT come!" I did as she told, and offered her my left hand. "Like a sissy! Wrist like a sissy!" she commanded. I let my wrist go limp, in the stereotypically gay/effemininate way. She then threaded the bra strap over my lip wrist and let it slide down to my elbow. She then pulled the bra strap over my shoulder and let it rest... let the bra hang down from its left strap. "Are you SURE you want to wear this bra? Don't you think it might be TOO feminine for you? Don't you think you should start out with bras that are a little more GIRLISH and a little less WOMANLY? I can do that for you, if you want. If that bra is too WOMANLY for you, I can always find a more girlish one." With my left wrist out and limp like a fag, with the nursing bra strap over my shoulder, with my right hand pounding my rock-hard meat, I had no option. I told her... "Stop. I have to be fair to you. Keep jerking off as I tell you what I have planned for the afternoon. We are going to meet some friends. After I put a bra on you, and pad it with three pairs of panties in each cup, I'm going to dress you in a see-through blouse. Everyone we meet will have no doubt about the style of brassiere the see-through blouse is displaying. Because that's the kind of see-through blouse you're going to wear. It's the kind of blouse I never tire of seeing my secretary's wear. Because that's what it is. A secretary's see-through blouse. You've seen the type, I'm sure, and thought, 'poor girl' for having to be such a bimbo and pretend the object of thought around whatever room you walk into is not your brassiere... " I was whacking furiously as she detailed my bra future. "Here's your choice: I'll finish putting that NURSING BRA on you... or two... I'll find a nice, comfy Champion work- out bra, all cotton... about as utilitarian a bra as was ever made, and not at all sexy. Then comes your blouse. No... wait... you should see it, so you can make an informed decision." She got up and went over to the walk-in closet. She came back holding a garment on a hangar... a white gossamer blouse... and she was right... it certainly was see- through. And it was EXTREMELY feminine. It was as if the designer entered a competition to design the most feminine secretary's blouse and won with this design. Lace and ruffles at all the expected places. And you could, indeed, see whatever was happening through the two layers of feminine material as she held the blouse up. "Now... keep stroking... do NOT come... keep that wrist limp... answer me in a woman's voice... for the rest of the day, for whomever we meet... NURSING BRA and THIS? Or work- out bra and this." She made her point very well. That nursing bra... through this blouse... nothing would be left to the imagination, the little bow between the bra cups, the sliders on the bra strap, the fact that it was a back-hook brassiere, and that there were four hooks... all theses facts would be displayed to all I meet... I continued to whack off... and savored how humiliating and exciting that would be... then said... "Work-out." She laughed out loud, and said, "Nursing! Nursing for YOU, for even having had to think for a SECOND over that question! I saw how longingly you pondered wearing the nursing bra... how much you want to wear it... how hard you whacked off thinking of wearing so totally a womanly bra as that... so shall it be... work-out bra indeed!" she laughed some more. "Put it on, bitch. Put on the nursing bra, I'll be right back." I felt like I was in a dream. I reached down, put my right hand through the bra strap, and pulled it up. I easily found the hook and eye with my fingertips, then brought the ends of the bra band behind my back, hooked one... two... three... four hooks and I was wearing a woman's nursing bra. "Adjust it, Mary." My fingertips moved to the slider on the bra strap... making it a little tighter... then the slider on the other bra strap... then I ran my fingertips underneath the bra band all around, pulling it down a bit, then to the cups, making sure the underwire fell right under my breasts. She handed me the blouse. "Un-do the buttons, Mary" As I un-buttoned the buttons, Mrs. Johnson walked over to her panty drawer, and came back with panties. She began stuffing panties into the cups of the nursing bra, then said, "Arm up, and behind your head." She resumed stuffing my bra and adjusting until she was satisfied. "Okay, arms down." She picked up the blouse, handed it to me, and told me to put it on. I complied... soon, I was buttoning the miniscule black pearl buttons on this see through blouse... up over my bosom... And all the buttons done. "Come, Mary, sit at the vanity." I complied, and sat, and... in the mirror I saw it... she was right... this blouse DID display the bra of whomever wore it! "Look. See if there is any position you can assume which would hide the fact that you are wearing a nursing bra." And she was right. The special hooks, the nursing flaps, everything about this bra seemed designed to shamelessly proclaim its womanliness and unashamed design for that extremely feminine and womanly act of nursing. I felt thoroughly humiliated. Chapter 10: Bend Over "Stand right there. Do not move. I'll be right back." I heard her heels clicking as she left the room. Soon, she was back. "Bend over, Mary." I hesitated. She slapped me, hard. "I said BEND OVER, BITCH!" She would not have to tell me twice ... I bent over. She kicked my legs apart until my legs were about three feet apart. I remained bent over. "What's today's date... the eighteenth? I've decided that you'll have your period, from the eightieth of the month through the twenty-third. During those days you will always wear a tampon, and have the string available for examination at a moment's notice. I don't suppose you have any experience with tampons, do you, Mary? Never worn a tampon? Oh, this will be fun. I'll be right back. And Mary... do NOT make me tell you to bend over again! She threw something to the ground. A blue and white box. As I was bent over, I could read the box clearly. "TAMPAX" "Tampons. Tampax tampons. You know what THEY are, don't you? They are a big part of every woman's life. You will always carry a couple of spares in your purse, Mary. I didn't know that much about tampons. I had seen them, sure, but I had no idea how they worked. I figured that somehow the woman wore them, but how, I did not know, and I figured women wore the entire tampon, applicator and all. She could tell I was clueless. "You don't know about tampons, do you Mary? Well, that will change. You will become VERY familiar with the usage, different brands, different styles of tampons, and you will, like all women, have your favorite, because you will become VERY used to wearing tampons. " As I remained bent over, she leaned by me, held a new tampon, still in its wrapper, in front of my gaze. She ripped open the wrapper. Taking a professorial tone, she said, "This, Mary, is a tampon. We women wear them during our period. And your period starts today. She put the end of the tampon in my mouth. "Suck on it. Make it good and wet." I knew why I was making the tampon wet. I didn't know how tampons worked, but I knew that, in some way, this tampon was going to be inside me. She then took the tampon from my mouth, and moved behind me. I felt her positioning it between my ass cheeks... positioning it THERE... then, she pushed purposefully. She pushed the tampon inside me. "Relax, sweet girl. Relax." I tried to relax. She pushed some more. Then, I felt her re-positioning her hands, then she pushed again, and it went deeper. Then she pulled back. I felt her tugging at something... "Perfect. Go ahead, feel." I reached behind me for my backside and felt... a string. I then knew how tampons worked. "Walk". I complied, and walked across the room. I felt so full... how could I ever get over that feeling of THAT... a TAMPON in my ass! "Walk like a sissy!" She made her wrist go limp. Dressed in her nursing bra, Tampax fully inserted, I walked like a swish, limp wristed, and I felt incredible. I loved how this felt. I felt so charged... so erotic... I really had no idea what feeling feminine was, but this feeling... the feeling that I had was what one of total womanhood and femininity and I almost fainted. "Like the feeling of a TAMPAX in you, Mary? Does that make you feel all FEMINININE and WOMANLY?" "Oh yes, Mrs. Johnson!" "Well, don't worry, little one, there's much more to come. Many more tampons, many more bras... many more womanly experiences. I hope you like your new life, woman." (To be continued)