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Working Title: The Tutor Cast of Characters Mrs. Roberts Denise Roberts Mr. Jason Clarke PART 1: Chapter 1: "It makes no sense for you to go home tonight," Mrs. Roberts said. "It's such a long drive." I was in the drawing room being interviewed for a short-term tutoring position by Mrs. Roberts, a tall, matronly woman, generously proportioned, with a firm, no-nonsense, but warmly accepting air about her. "You can't go!" Denise agreed. "The test is this coming Sunday! That's less than a week away! Please, if I don't get into Cleavage college... I'll just die! You just *have* to help me!" Denise Roberts, a beautiful, bright eyed, teenage girl, grabbed me tight around the waist, as if to physically prevent me from leaving. Like her mother, she was not without her own generous curves, which were now pressed urgently against me. "But I don't have any clothes or toiletries," I responded. "I just drove over for the interview. I never imagined that you might ask me to start right away." I tried unsuccessfully to extract myself from Denise's firm hug, but the more I struggled, the tighter she held me, pressing her enormous young breasts into my body, her head on my shoulder with her hair, full of the smell of shampoo and perfume, in my face. "I have some clothes from my late husband," Mrs. Roberts offered. "You can wear those." "But..." I stammered, "I mean... you're very generous but at least I'll have to go home to fetch some underwear and toiletries, right? I can't possibly go all week without clean underwear." "I have underwear you could use," Denise said, seriously. "Uh..." I stared, thinking that Denise couldn't possibly mean what I thought she meant... You have men's briefs...?" "No, silly. *My* underwear. I've got tons of underwear I never use, you can help yourself!" My heart lurched in my chest. "But... but..." I said, "surely you don't mean that I would wear your... your..." "Panties? Well, why not? We're the same size... okay, maybe you're a tad shorter than I am. Is there a problem with wearing my _panties_?" "It's just that I don't think..." "What a wonderful idea!" Mrs. Roberts said, interrupting. "That settles it." "You're both being very nice about this," I stammered, trying to back out of the situation gracefully, "I just don't..." "They're just panties," Denise said, her eyes wide and innocent. "And then you don't have to drive home and we can get started right away. That's all I want... uh... you know. To get started on studying." "Our need for your services is urgent," added Mrs. Roberts. "Denise's entrance exams are next week. If you leave, I cannot guarantee that the position will still be available when you return. Even tomorrow." I looked back and forth between mother and daughter, both of them glowing with excitement, Mrs. Roberts with a knowing smile on her face. My eyes drifted down to her ample bosoms, where they lingered for a moment. Blushing, I quickly looked away. "I... I guess it would be alright," I said, giving in. "Okay, I'll stay." "Awesome!" Denise cried out. "I just know we'll become best friends! Come! Let's pick out a pair for you to wear right now." "What?? I don't need to change my underwear right now," I said, shocked. "Can't this wait?" "I don't want you chickening out later," Denise responded. "Besides, I love the idea of you wearing my panties! I can't wait to find you the perfect pair!" "You kids have fun!" Mrs. Roberts called after us, as Denise pulled me from the drawing room. * * * Denise's bedroom was typical for a rich, teenage girl. The walls were covered with posters of boy bands and women's professional soccer teams. The plush carpeting, enormous hardwood furniture, and elegant canopy bed gave proof to her position as a privileged daughter of a wealthy family. I stopped at the entrance, not knowing what to do. I had never been taken to the bedroom of a student before. "I have all kinds of lingerie," Denise giggled, pushing me into the room from behind and steering me to the dresser drawers. "You know... bras, slips, stockings... "But I suppose all you'll need for now is just a simple pair of panties? Not that you're not welcome to wear anything I have, of course! Feel free to root around and take anything you want! You just have to promise to wear them and show me." "Are... are you sure about this, Denise?" I stammered. "I don't want to put you to any trouble." "Oh no trouble at all!" She said, excitedly. "Since my sisters left for college, I _never_ get to share my panties with anyone, and I have so many pretty ones!" Denise began to sift through the mounds of frilly underwear. "Don't I have just tons and tons of pretty panties??" Denise opened the top drawer which was literally stuffed to overflowing with lingerie. Clearly her mother had been *very* generous with her youngest daughter. "Gosh," I said amazed, my eyes round as saucers. "You're right. That's a lot of panties." "I know! And I never get to wear half of them! Not that it matters, because I never get to show them off to anyone. It's so sad, don't you agree?" "I... I guess so." "It is, isn't it? But now I have you!" "Me?" I squeaked. "Yes you!" Denise put an arm around my waist, holding me to her warm young body. "I can dress you up in my pretty panties so finally all of these pretty things will get worn!" "Oh Denise," I said, trying to back away, "Dress up? As much as I--" I stopped short. "As much as you what?" "Never mind. Here, just get me something simple, and that will be fine." "No, you can't wriggle out of this one. You were about to say, 'as much as I want to.' Weren't you? You *want* me to dress you up in frilly panties, don't you! Admit it!" "That's not what I was going to say at all," I said, blushing bright red. My mind raced to think of a plausible lie. "As much as I... uh... as much as I think you're being very sweet. That's all I was going to say." "Pfft. Bullshit." Denise looked me straight in the eye. "Come on," she said, suddenly serious. Admit it. You *want* me to dress you up in frilly panties. Don't you? Come on, fess up!" "Now listen," I said, trying to be reasonable, "even if that was what I was going to say - and I'm not saying it was! - it's completely improper for me to be discussing these things with you at all! Tutors and students, we have to maintain a certain distance." "Oh, phooey on that! Let me check with Mom." Denise pulled out her cell- phone and speed-dialed her mother. "Denise - I don't t think..." "Mom? Is it okay for me to dress up Mr. Clarke in _frilly panties_?" Denise put her mobile on speakerphone. "Why, sweetie, whatever panties you want for him to wear would be just fine with me," Mrs. Roberts responded. "I think some frilly panties would be just _lovely_." "See!?" Denise said. "_Mom_ says it's okay!" I stood there, dumbfounded. "But Mrs. Roberts," I said into the cell-phone speakerphone, "I just thought... well, that this sort of thing wouldn't be proper. You know, between a tutor and his charge." "Oh, it's just a pair of panties," responded Mrs. Roberts. "And you'll be changing behind a screen, won't he, Denise?" "Why of course!" Denise looked at me, her eyes full of mischief. "You weren't thinking of changing right here in front of me, _were you_ Mr. Clarke???" "Uh no! Of course not!!" "Well, I hope not!" said Mrs. Roberts. "After all, that would be very naughty behavior, wouldn't it, Denise?" "Oh yes!" said Denise, looking at me slyly. "So _very_ naughty! And you wouldn't want to have to experience what Mother does to naughty girls, let me tell you!" "And I'm sure she won't," Mrs. Roberts said, seemingly confusing her pronouns. "Denise, honey? Would you hand your phone to Mr. Clarke? I'd like to talk to him in private. Okay, sweetie?" "Sure, Mom." Denise turned off the speakerphone and handed it to me. "Yes, Mrs. Roberts?" "Oh, Mr. Clarke, I can't tell you how _thrilled_ I am that you and Denise are getting along so well!" "Oh... uh..." "You know, she is really such a shy girl..." "Shy?" I sputtered in disbelief. "Yes, you have no idea how hard I have to work to build her self-esteem! But with you, well I can't believe that she's so excited to be studying! I don't know what you've done to bring her out of her shell like this, but whatever it is, just keep doing it!" "Oh, gosh... Well, okay, Mrs. Roberts. I'll... uh... do what I can." "Of course you will! Just follow her lead - and I'm sure that you two will just have the best possible relationship and she'll learn so much from you! Okay then, have fun wearing her frilly panties! Bye!" "Okay. Bye." I hung up the phone and looked at Denise, who smiled from ear to ear. "I _told_ you it would be okay," she said. "Now, how about this one?" Denise held out something impossibly small. It was nylon in bright neon blue with about two inches of lace at the waist. "Oh, I don't know..." "Is that a no? Okay, that's fine. I can find something else." "Denise, can I just have a simple pair of cotton briefs?" "Oh please," she rolled her eyes. "You obviously don't get the whole concept of 'dress up', do you? Now here. How about this one?" She held out a black high-waisted panty with polka dots and a ruffled edge around the leg. "Oh, heavens no," I said, shuddering at the thought of wearing something so feminine all day. The next set she pulled out was a boy short covered from top to bottom with rows and rows of sumptuous lace. I gulped. I so *wanted* to wear those. I felt tingles dart across my skin. "Tempted?" Denise said, coyly. "No!" I blurted out, too loudly. "I couldn't possibly wear those." "Are you sure?" Denise held up the panties, teasing me with them. "Uh..." "Here, why don't you try them on?" She placed them in my hand, the soft lace causing flutters in my stomach. "Please..." I whimpered, as Denise pushed me over to a screen at one side of the bedroom. "Oh, you'll be fine. Go ahead. I won't peek. Much." Safely behind the screen, I removed my pants and boxers, and then, taking a deep breath, slipped the panties on. Oh.... A tingle slowly washed over me. The feeling was captivating, and opened up many long-suppressed feelings and memories. I took a moment to just try and control my breathing. "They look great!" Denise said, looking at me from around the screen. "Hey!!!" I shouted, desperately trying to cover up. "Get out of here! You can't see me like this!" "Okay, fine, but I'm taking these with me!" she said, grabbing my boxers and running away. "Stop that!" I shouted, frantically grabbing my pants and pulling them on. "I'll need those later!" I stumbled out from behind the screen only to see her brandishing a pair of scissors. "Oops!" she said, grinning wickedly, as my boxers fell in ribbons to the floor. "Did you... are those my...?" I asked, incredulously. "Now you'll have to wear my frilly panties all week long!" she said. "Your boxers were so ugly anyway. You should thank me for doing you a favor!" * * * Chapter 2: "How's the studying going?" Mrs. Roberts asked. "Quite well," I said. As it turns out, for all her silliness, Denise was a ready and attentive pupil, eagerly soaking up test taking strategies and word lists. "Mr. Clarke is _perfect_ for me," said Denise, smiling. "Wonderful!" said Mrs. Roberts. "You know, I had a feeling that this would work out. Mr. Clarke, I think you deserve a hug for being such a _cooperative and willing_ teacher." Have I mentioned her bosoms? Mrs. Roberts was blessed with an absolutely enormous chest, at least size G or larger and squeezed and plumped into two enormous mounds which thrust straight out with authority. And as she hugged me (or maybe I imagined it?) it seemed like she turned my head so that I was pressed directly into her ample cleavage, her torpedoes massaging my face between them. "Mr. Clarke?" Mrs. Roberts asked, gently. "Yes?" I asked, through a foggy haze. "Where are your keys and wallet? I'd like to put them into our wall safe. Would that be okay? I would feel terrible if they went missing." "Uh... Do you really feel that's necessary?" Mrs. Roberts ran her fingers lightly through my hair. "I would feel just terrible if anything happened to your valuables," she responded, rocking her shoulders back and forth, holding my head even more firmly to her ample bosoms. "Do you mind? Maybe it's just silly of me..." "No, no... I understand," I mumbled, not thinking clearly. "If you think it's for the best. Sure. Okay." "Oh thank you. I just knew you would understand and obey. Could I have them now?" Mrs. Roberts disengaged me from her cleavage and held out her hand. I looked at her in shock. "Now?" I asked. "Of course now," she said, her eyes glittering. I reached for my wallet and dug the keys out of my pants pocket. "Uh..." I said, hesitantly handing them over. "But how will I... I mean, what if I need to get into my car at some point?" "Just ask," said Mrs. Roberts smiled, hiding my effects somewhere deep in the folds of her dress, "and I'll supply you with whatever you need." "Oh. Okay..." I said, uncertainly, trying to parse her statement. She didn't actually say she would return my things when I asked, but surely that's what she must have meant? "Mom?" Denise broke in, "Mom?? You should see Mr. Clarke's panties! They're so darling!!" "Denise!" I exclaimed, shocked. "Really??" asked Mrs. Roberts, interested. "Well, why don't you show them to me, Miss Clarke?" Wait a second, had she called me 'miss'?? "Yay, lets show Mom!" Denise said, jumping up and pulling me to my feet. "Mrs. Roberts?" I stammered, "Is this right? I mean... I'm Denise's tutor and..." "Miss Clarke?? I'm not asking you to expose yourself to me." "What? No, I mean..." "Is that what you were thinking? Oh, you are such a naughty girl! I'm afraid that I'm going to have to give you 2 demerits just for suggesting such a thing." "Two demerits?" I sputtered. "But..." "No, all I was suggesting is that you take down your pants so I can see your panties. Not remove them entirely." I stared at her, speechless. "Now Miss Clarke," Mrs. Roberts said, in warning, "Things are going so well, if Denise wants you to show me your panties, then I think you should show me your panties, don't you?" "But..." "That's another 2 demerits, I'm afraid. Denise? I think our Miss Clarke needs some encouragement. Could you hold her hands for me?" Grinning, Denise grasped my hands and held them behind my back. "There we go. Now let's just see here," Mrs. Roberts unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants, the fingernails of her fingers lightly stroking across my crotch as she did so. "Noooo..." I moaned. "Shush now. It's no different than wearing a swimsuit at the beach. Honestly, I don't know what all the fuss is about. Denise? You are absolutely right! These panties are absolutely _adorable_. Do you like wearing such frilly things, Miss Clarke?" "He does!" Denise answered for me. "He admitted it to me." "I did not!" I said, incensed. "Contradicting my daughter," Mrs. Roberts tutted. "That's another 2 demerits, I'm afraid, Miss Clarke. Now let me ask you again... do you like wearing such frilly things?" I struggled, but Denise held me tight. I looked from mother to daughter, trying to figure out what I was supposed to say. "It's okay to admit it," Mrs. Roberts said, stroking her fingers lightly across the rows and rows of lacy ruffles. "After all, they're beautiful, aren't they? And who wouldn't just _love_ to wear such frilly, beautiful things? Am I right?" "I..." "Denise has already told me the answer, Miss Clarke. And, house rules: no one is allowed to correct my daughter other than me. Do you understand? So let me ask you again, don't you just love wearing frilly, pretty things like these panties?" I hung my head and closed my eyes. "Just tell me the truth," Mrs. Roberts gently prompted. "I do," I admitted, my heart sinking as I admitted it. What have I done? I felt some of my power shifting into Mrs. Roberts' capable control. "There, now was that so hard? In this house, I demand absolute honesty from everyone. That's another house rule. Well now that you've admitted that you just love wearing pretty, frilly, feminine things, I'm sure we'll be able to find you lots more of them to wear, won't we, Denise?" "Oh, absolutely!" she said, grinning from ear to ear. "Now," Mrs. Roberts said, covering me back up, "I', sure there's more studying to do before dinner, isn't there?" * * * Chapter 3: "Mrs. Roberts, why are you calling me 'Miss Clarke'? After all, I'm a Mister, not a Miss." I was helping Mrs. Roberts to prepare dinner and set the table to help work off my demerits. Denise pouted when I was given the assignment - she had apparently been looking forward to a more severe form of punishment. But, thankfully! Mrs. Roberts took my side and said all I had to do was help in the Kitchen that evening. "Am I?" Mrs. Roberts looked at me with surprise. "Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry! It's just that Denise's previous tutor also had the last name of Clarke - Pamela Clarke was her name - and I guess I just naturally started calling you Miss Clarke. I apologize." "Oh, no problem." "No problem? Do you mean that you *want* me to call you Miss Clarke?" "No! Of course not..." "Oh, so you meant that you didn't mind me calling you Miss Clarke when I did before? When you said 'no problem'? You meant that you would respond without problem to Miss Clarke if that's what I wanted to call you, was that what you meant?" "Uh..." I struggled. "Right, that's it." "Oh thank you, you are such a dear," Mrs. Roberts gave me a quick hug. "I'm just so used to calling the tutor 'Miss Clarke', that it may be difficult for me to change. I'll be sure to tell Denise as well that you don't mind being called 'Miss Clarke', I'm sure that will be easier for her too." "But..." "Yes, Miss Clarke?" I was flustered, trying to think of what to say. I had never meant to agree to being called Miss Clarke *all* the time! I had just wanted to say that I forgave her prior lapses. "Mrs. Roberts..." I began, "I..." I stumbled, not knowing how to phrase my objections. "Miss Clarke?" She asked again, quizzically, oblivious to my internal struggles. "What can I do to help next?" I mumbled softly, my shoulders sagging as I gave up. "Why, aren't you just so helpful? Well, we need to stir the soup, but you'll need an apron so we don't get your clothes all dirty. Here, you can use this one." Mrs. Roberts pulled out a white Victorian maid's apron, trimmed in lace. "It's been in the family for ages. You should be honored to wear it," she said, as she pulled it over my head and tied it behind me in a big bow. "And here, you should wear this cap so that your hair doesn't accidentally get in the food." "Oh, I don't think..." I sputtered. "No, no. I insist. It is a hygienic requirement," Mrs. Roberts said, pulling my hair back and placing a frilly maid's cap on top. My hair was a bit long (a typical graduate student, I hadn't cut it all year), so she had no trouble tying it off in back. "Perfect! Now we're almost ready, just stir the soup, and then you can help serve." After a flurry of activity, Mrs. Roberts and I had arranged all of the food on the kitchen counter, everything all set to be taken out to the dining room. "There! All set to go. Now, Miss Clarke..." "Yes, Mrs. Roberts?" "You know, you can call me Ma'am, if you prefer," she said, in a tone which was more of a command than a request. "Ma'am?" "Yes, Ma'am, as in 'ham'. Would that be more comfortable for you?" "Uh..." "Because I would perfectly understand if that were the case. Mrs. Roberts is rather a mouthful. And besides, I imagine that you're thinking that Ma'am is more appropriate, all things considered?" "Appropriate?" I asked. Wondering what she meant by that. "Yes, appropriate." "Uh... sure, Ma'am. That would be fine." "Very good. Now, I'm going to go out and sit down, so I can enjoy the meal with Denise. When you hear the bell, you can start serving us dinner. Do you understand?" "Oh," I looked confused. "Serving you? I thought... uh..." "Now Miss Clarke, you still have demerits to work off," Mrs. Roberts said in warning. "Yes Ma'am," I responded. "That's a good girl." I stood waiting by the food, shifting from foot to foot, listening in vain to the soft conversation in the dining room. After a few minutes, I heard the tinkle of the bell. "Oh, Mr. Clarke!" Denise exclaimed as I server her soup. "I love your apron and cap!" I blushed to the core when I heard this. "Now Denise, let's not tease the poor dear. After all, she's doing this nice thing for us to work off her demerits and she should be thanked." "I'm sorry, mother," Denise said, contritely. "And she has also graciously consented to being called Miss Clarke." "Miss Clarke?" Denise asked, delighted. Hearing Denise use the word 'Miss' caused my stomach to turn in knots. "Isn't that right, Miss Clarke?" Mrs. Roberts asked. "Yes, Ma'am," I said softly, my face turning bright hot red in embarrassment. "Ma'am?" Denise asked quizzically. "Yes, Miss Clarke felt she would be more comfortable calling me Ma'am rather than Mrs. Roberts. I presume she felt that way because of the difference in our station in life... that calling me Ma'am felt more appropriate to her position within the household. Was the reason you felt the need to call me Ma'am, Miss Clarke?" "Well..." I started. "Does that mean you would feel more comfortable calling me 'Miss Denise'?" I looked up with shock at my student, who was wearing a wide, mischievous smile. "I..." "Well certainly! If it makes you more comfortable to say 'Miss Denise' instead of Denise, I think that would be most proper," said Mrs. Roberts. Holding the soup, wearing my apron and cap, I couldn't think of what to say. I felt like I was being swept along by the mistaken opinions of these two strong willed women, to what destination I couldn't imagine. Miss Denise got up from her chair and gave me a gentle hug. "Are you okay, Miss Clarke?" she asked, softly with a gentle, friendly smile. "Yes... Miss Denise," I said finally, feeling my stomach flip-flopping yet again as I tacitly admitted to all of their assertions about my character. "I'm fine. You..." I looked at Mrs. Roberts who smiled encouragingly at me, "you just enjoy your soup and call me when you are ready for the next course." * * * Chapter 4: "It's right next to Denise's bedroom," said Mrs. Roberts, showing me into the guest bedroom, which was small but nicely furnished. "In fact, when the house was first built, this room would have been occupied by the lady's maid for whoever slept next door. In fact, you can still see the bell near the ceiling there. The pull is in Denise's room. Isn't that interesting?" "Yes, Ma'am," I agreed. Mrs. Roberts let me over to the bed and sat me down. She placed a hand on my thigh and gently stroked it. A shiver ran through me. "I want to thank you again for being such a wonderful tutor for Denise, and such a gracious guest," she said. "I know that, well, this household can be somewhat... ahh... eccentric at times. And you've just been wonderfully accepting of all our little quirks." "Oh, well, it's been a pleasure, Ma'am." "Really? A pleasure?" "Yes, of course." "I hope you weren't just being nice. Because it would be quite wonderful if you really felt that way. Has this situation really been a pleasure for you? Has the way that Denise and I have... the way that we've been treating you... is that really pleasurable for you?" "Oh, actually, I meant..." Mrs. Roberts shifted closer to me, her womanly fragrance enveloping me. "Has it really been a pleasure for you?" she asked again, stroking my back and squeezing my leg. "Yes," I said, in a hoarse whisper. "Yes, it has." "I'm so glad you said that. May I kiss you?" "Kiss me? Ma'am?" I asked, startled. Mrs. Roberts turned towards me causing her robe to gap open. She had already changed for bed and I could see her ample bosoms gently cupped by the delicate silky fabric of her nightgown. I looked up, my heart pounding, noticing for the first time how sensuous her lips were. "Yes, kiss you - for being such a gracious a guest - I just feel like kissing you, but I thought I should ask first." I gulped. The butterflies in my stomach turned into a swarm. Tingles ran over my skin. "Uh..." I hesitated. Something about the intimacy of the moment drew me in. "That... that would be nice." "Oh, I'm so glad," she said, leaning in, placing a hand gently on the back of my neck, and pulling our lips together. I melted. Mrs. Roberts' femininity was so overwhelming that I couldn't help but lose myself in her arms, meekly accepting the kiss from this domineering female head of the household. "You are so delicious," she said, breaking the kiss. "I just knew when I first saw you that you would be perfect." "Oh, well, Ma'am," I sighed, "how could I refuse such a beautiful woman?" "Oh, you charmer! But seriously, most employees would have said it was sexual harassment, or some such nonsense. But I'm so glad that's not ever going to be a problem with you, now will it?" "Harassment? No, of course not!" "Good. It's so nice to have an employee for whom physical boundaries are not an issue. An employee who is willing to give up herself completely to the needs of her employer." "Well... ah..." "Shhhhh..." she placed a finger on my lips. "I will not demand anything more from you tonight. But now, before you can go to bed, we'll need to get you properly dressed." "Dressed?" "Yes, of course, in sleepwear for bedtime, of course. Now since you don't have proper pajamas with you, and since you admitted to Denise earlier how much you love wearing pretty, feminine, things..." Mrs. Roberts got up and walked over to the closet. "But Ma'am, that's not exactly..." "... and so, I have this for you," she reached into the closet and pulled out a sumptuous, long nightgown, made of a light-as-air shimmery fabric, with rows of lace embroidery across the chest and long, soft pleats which went all the way to the ground. "I hope you like it," she said. "I took extra care to pick the softest, most feminine, and frilly nightgown I could find for you. Don't you love it?" "Oh, gosh... I..." "Oh, of course you do," she said with a knowing smile. "Anyone who loves soft feminine, frilly things like you do would love it. Now, let's get you undressed..." "Ma'am?" I squeaked. "Oh, pfft," she said, laying the nightgown on the bed and reaching to unbutton my shirt. "I was married for 12 years before my husband, god rest his soul, departed this mortal coil. So believe me, I've seen it all. No need to protect me or my modesty, Miss Clarke. So, here, let me help you." "But, Ma'am, it's not you that I'm..." "Shhh..." she said, pulling off my shirt and reaching my pants. "I told you, no need to worry about me, although you are such a dear to be concerned." Despite my best efforts, she soon had me stripped down to my panties. "Now, here, let's put this on..." "No, please..." The nightgown floated over me, the gentle fabric caressing and sliding down my body as it went, causing tingles everywhere it touched. I struggled for a minute but was eventually able to get my arms properly threaded through the long sleeves. "Oh, now look at you!" she enthused. "It's perfect. I hope you appreciate all of the effort I went through to get you the perfect nightgown." What was I going to say? I hadn't meant to be forced to dress in a lady's nightgown before going to bed. "Miss Clarke," she repeated, this time with a hint of warning. "I hope you appreciate all of the effort I went through to find this perfect nightgown for you." I looked into her eyes, seeing no room for compromise. "Of course, Ma'am," I said, demurely, "Thank you so much for taking the time to find this perfect nightgown for me." "That's my girl," she said gently cupping my cheek in her hand and giving me a peck on the lips. "And isn't it just the most beautiful, luscious, romantic nightgown you've ever seen?" "Yes Ma'am," I responded honestly. "It is. It's beautiful." "And isn't this lace trim just so delicious, frilly, and feminine?" "Yes, Ma'am." I knew where this was headed, but felt powerless to change direction, as Mrs. Roberts relentlessly dragged me further down the path. "And doesn't it feel wonderful, all of this whisper soft fabric cascading down your body? Doesn't that feel like the most wonderful feeling in the world?" "I... I..." As I tried to respond, Mrs. Roberts gently ran her fingers down the folds of the nightgown as they ran the length of my body, causing me to suck in my breath with pleasure. "Yes Ma'am," I finally gasped, and then looked at her with watery eyes. "Yes... that is just the most wonderful feeling in the world," I sighed. "I just knew you'd love it," she smiled back at me, triumphant. "I just knew it. Now let's go show Denise!" "What? Wait!" I squealed, as Mrs. Roberts grasped me firmly by the hand and dragged me to Miss Denise's room next door. "Denise! Look at Miss Clarke, isn't she just so delicious?" "Oh, Miss Clarke!" Miss Denise jumped up from her bed where she had been lounging in silk pajamas. She enveloped me in a big hug, our silken bodies rubbing together. "I just love how it looks on you! It's like it was just made to be worn by you." Wrapped in her arms, all I could do is agree, and enjoy the closeness of her body. "But there's one thing missing..." she said. "What?" Mrs. Roberts asked. "It doesn't hang right. It needs..." Miss Denise put her hands on my chest, "well... it needs breasts." Miss Denise lightly rubbed her fingers across my nipples, emphasizing her point, causing me to suck in my breath as tingles threatened to overtake me, "The shape is not right," she continued. "It's good, but you're missing a female chest. Preferably a really big one, under that fabric. Then it will be perfect. It will be delicious." "Well I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about that now," said Mrs. Roberts. "It is time for all of us to go to bed! We're all going to have a very long day tomorrow, I'm absolutely certain." "But I need someone to brush my hair first," Miss Denise whined. "Well..." Mrs. Roberts said, "if you ask Miss Clarke nicely... maybe she'll brush out your hair for you." Miss Denise looked at me with doe-like eyes. "Miss Clarke?" she asked, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. "Would you brush out my hair? Pretty please?" "Uh..." I looked from mother to daughter. Somehow I had become sandwiched between their soft, warm bodies. "Uh... of course, Miss Denise. It... It would be an honor," I said. "Oh, yay!" Miss Denise said. "Here, let's sit in bed and we can talk 'girl-talk' while you _'have the honor'_ of brushing my hair." "Perfect! You kids have fun," said Mrs. Roberts, as she left the two of us together. And so I fetched a hairbrush from the dresser and joined Miss Denise on the bed. As I brushed her hair she chatted on about articles she had read in Cosmo about makeup celebrities she liked, occasionally showing me pictures and asking my opinion. Eventually she indicated that I was done, and with a yawn, slipped under the covers. "Thank you, Miss Clarke," she said, sleepily. "You're welcome, Miss Denise," I responded, getting up and walking softly to the door. "Oh, Miss Clarke?" Miss Denise asked, innocently. "Yes?" "I left my dirty clothes for the day over there on the chair. Would you mind terribly picking them up and taking them to the laundry room?" "Pick up your dirty clothes?" I asked, not sure I heard her correctly. "Yes, over there. Mother gets upset if I don't do it every day, but I just haven't had the time! Do you mind? Would it be okay?" "I..." What was happening here? I was her tutor - not her maid! I shouldn't have to pick up her dirty laundry. That was so far outside my job description it didn't even fall in the same universe. "Pretty please?" Miss Denise looked up at me with her innocent, half- asleep eyes, looking so sweet that I just melted. "Yes, of course, Miss Denise," I said, gathering up her soiled garments. There must have been three outfits whole outfits. Did she really wear all of these today? Miss Denise was sound asleep and snoring softly by the time I turned off the light and gently closed her door behind me. * * * I found the laundry room at the end of the hall. Like the rest of the house, it was huge (for a laundry room), with two washing machines, two dryers, storage closets, a folding table, and hatch on the wall labeled "TRASH". I placed Miss Denise's soiled things on a washing machine, and then, for some reason - I have no idea what came over me - but just then I buried my face in them and breathed in deep. I think back on it now, and I can't imagine why I did it, or what I was thinking. I suppose I wasn't really thinking at all. I had just placed an armful of feminine finery before me, and for some reason I wanted to experience what it smelled like. And it would have been okay, except... "Miss Clarke!!" Mrs. Roberts exclaimed, more surprised than angry. "What are you doing?" I jumped as if electrocuted. "Mrs. Roberts! I mean... Ma'am! I... I..." "Oh, you don't have to explain, Miss Clarke, I can see what's happening here." Mrs. Roberts came into the room and put down a bundle of her own clothes. "You can?" "Yes, of course! It's quite obvious you have fallen under my daughter's spell, haven't you?" "I... no wait... what?" "Of course you have, and who wouldn't? After all, isn't she just the most amazing young person you've ever met?" "Yes, of course, Ma'am, she is" I quickly agreed, hoping to steer the conversation away from my sniffing her daughter's soiled lingerie. "I know, I know! She's so smart and personable; I'm just absolutely certain she's going to be deluged by admirers, like you, once she gets into the wider world." "Yes, Ma'am, I would expect so." "Exactly! And that's why it will be _so_ important to have loyal and self-sacrificing people like you to serve her." Loyal and self-sacrificing? "Gosh, Ma'am... thank you..." I said, hesitantly, "But honestly, that's a lot to say about a one-week tutoring job." "Of course, dear. Of course. I guess I just got carried away, but it so warms my heart to see devoted and selfless people like you serving my daughter to the best of their abilities. After all, that's how great people are made, don't you agree? Not just from their works, but by those around them." "Yes Ma'am," I said, not really knowing what she was going on about, or why. "Would you like to take some of her things to bed with you?" "What?? Oh, no! Ma'am. No. Certainly not." "Oh, don't worry. I know you're only objecting because you're afraid she'd find out, but honestly. It will be our secret. I promise I won't tell." "No, Ma'am, that's not..." "Now here, how about this cute little blouse, and a bra, a pair of panties - _of course_ - and a pair of socks. That should have lots of her smell on them." "No, really, Ma'am, I don't think..." "Shhhhhh... Don't worry! I told you, I promise to keep it a secret. No one will ever know. Now don't argue, I won't take 'no' for an answer. Let's just get you to bed. It's going to be a long day tomorrow." And with that, Mrs. Roberts put the selected items into my arms and led me back to my room. "Now here we are, slip into bed and let me tuck you in. That's a good girl. Now I'll place these things of Denise's on your pillow, right here, so that you'll have her scent close to you all night long." Mrs. Roberts looked at me, expectantly. "Oh!" I said, finally realizing what she wanted. "Thank you, Ma'am." "You are so welcome. Now there, all snug. Now I'm setting your alarm for 6am. Since you still have some demerits to work off, I'll want you to get up when the alarm goes off and follow the instructions on the kitchen counter to make breakfast. Then come wake up Denise and me. Will you be able to manage all of that on your own?" "Uh, yes.... I think so, ma'am." "Very good. Miss Clarke, I can't thank you enough for being such a wonderful, pliable, obedient girl. And now that I know how devoted you've become to my darling Denise, well I'm positive we're going to get along just splendidly." And with that, Mrs. Roberts turned out the lights and shut the door behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts. How the hell did I get into this position? Everything I said and did just seemed to get me deeper and deeper into trouble. There I was, dressed in a long, silky nylon and lace nightgown with ruffled panties, my head on a pillow drenched in the female smells of the young woman in the next room, and committed to serving them breakfast tomorrow morning. Wasn't I supposed to be a tutor? Somehow, things had strayed way beyond the standard tutor / student relationship. Why hadn't I stood up for myself when Mrs. Roberts was handing out demerits? After all, it was just a simple misunderstanding - that shouldn't have been a cause for punishment. And they were taking all of those liberties with my person - pulling down my pants to see my panties, and then undressing me, and then forcing me to wear this lovely, sumptuous nightgown... and kissing me... Of course, I had consented to being kissed. And Mrs. Roberts... her lips were so warm and wet... And then her bosoms... Oh, I'm just so confused! And Miss Denise! Picking out those frilly panties for me and then going and cutting up my regular underwear! The nerve of her! Of course, brushing her hair... that had been really nice. The feel of her silky smooth hair under my fingers was... so wonderful. But then I had to pick up all her dirty clothes! What was that about? That was definitely beyond the pale. And oh - why did I get caught smelling Miss Denise's dirty panties?? I blushed down to my toes when I remember that. But then, what were all those statements Mrs. Roberts made about me being 'pliable', 'devoted', and 'obedient'? And then she practically forced me to take some of Miss Denise's dirty things to bed with me, which were now right here, on my pillow. I nestled into the pillow some more, letting her female smells fill my world. Oh! I had just enough time to fling off the covers and pull up the nightgown before my penis erupted with jets of pleasure that caused my entire body to squirm uncontrollably. Where the hell did that come from? The nightgown was spared, thank goodness, but unfortunately the panties got hit pretty bad. I used Miss Denise's dirty T-Shirt to clean it up as best I could, before falling asleep to dreams of soft fabrics and curvy female bodies. * * * Chapter 5: I actually woke up before the alarm the next morning, a habit of mine. Gathering up Miss Denise's dirty things from my pillow I rushed to the laundry room, added them to the pile of dirty clothes I had gathered up yesterday and started a load of colored clothes, including the T-shirt which was now grotesquely stained with my accident from the night before. Running back to my room, I came up short. Where the hell were my clothes? I opened up all the dresser drawers and the large walk-in closet but couldn't find them. Crap! It was already 6:20, so I just put on a robe (praying that would be okay) and rushed downstairs to the kitchen. Fortunately, the instructions for breakfast were simple: a buffet with bacon, yoghurt, cereal and fruit. It took me a while to find everything, but it was all ready by 7am. * * * Mrs. Roberts was sound asleep when I opened the door to her bedroom. Fortunately, her instructions were very clear, and so I took a deep breath, walked over to her side, and gently shook her shoulder. "Ma'am?" I asked softly. "It's time to get up. It's seven in the morning." "Oh, Miss Clarke," she said, sleepily, rolling over to face me, her bed a mass of fabric, lace, bosoms, and tousled hair, "how nice to see you this morning. Breakfast is ready, I trust?" "Yes, Ma'am." "Such an obedient girl. Now you go and wake up Denise, and I'll meet you at the breakfast table." * * * "Hey," Miss Denise looked up at me with sleepy eyes. "Hi Miss Clarke! Oh, if only I could have you wake me up like this every morning, wouldn't that be wonderful?" "That would be nice," I said. "Really?" she asked. "Do you really want to do that? I mean, wake me up each and every morning?" "Oh, ah..." How should I respond? I so wanted to say 'yes'. After all, Miss Denise is a beautiful young woman, and seeing her in bed, sleeping in her silk pajamas... well it caused me to feel certain things... things which I probably shouldn't have been feeling. "Oh, I know. You're just here as a tutor." "Yes, Miss Denise," I said, relieved. "I've got to pee. Could you find my robe? I've lost it and Mother hates it when I wander through the house in just my PJ's." I went to her closet, a huge walk-in closet jammed so full of clothes they were wedged together. That couldn't be good for them, could it? Giving up on the closet, I looked through the rest of her room, and eventually found it behind the sofa in the 'sitting area' of the bedroom. So now what? Should I just lay the robe on the bed and leave? Somehow, it hadn't felt like I'd been 'dismissed' by Miss Denise, so I stood there, fretting about what to do, and aware that I was needed in the kitchen. Finally, I decided to lay the robe on the bed, but the bed was such a mess! And so I made the bed. Honestly, I really didn't think about it. I'm really good at making beds. My mom had always taught me to be helpful and a 'good guest' whenever I was staying in someone's house, and to help out whenever I could. And further, I'm something of a neat freak, and so all those things just came together. "You made my bed???!" Miss Denise squealed, coming out of the bathroom just as I finished up. "Oh my god! Thank you, thank you!!" "Oh!" I said, startled. "Miss Denise! It was just that..." "You are amazing!" she continued to gush. "Just amazing! Mother is always getting on my case to make my bed - you don't know how much this means to me!" "It was nothing, I just..." "It's so not just nothing! It's fabulous! That you would care for me so much to help with things like this. You're the best! Just the best ever!!" And without even thinking about it, she gave me a big hug and kissed me full on the lips. "Mmmm!" I exclaimed in surprise, as Miss Denise continued the kiss. I practically melted in her arms. "Nice," Miss Denise said, pulling away, her eyes twinkling. "And I see you found my robe!" "Yes, Miss Denise. It was behind the sofa." I held it up. "Clever Miss Clarke!" she said, smiling. Miss Denise put an arm into a sleeve of the robe and then turned away from me. What the hell...? It took me a second, but then I realized: Miss Denise had assumed that I was helping her dress! Not knowing what to do, I just went ahead and helped her to put it fully on. "Did you enjoy brushing my hair last night?" Miss Denise asked, coquettishly. "Yes, Miss Denise," I admitted. "I did." "Would you... do it again?" She batted her eyes at me. "You mean... right now?" "Yes, would mind terribly? Mother wants me to look 'well presented' for breakfast. If I don't, I get demerits." "You get demerits too?" I said, goggly eyed. "Oh absolutely. Although it's been a while. So...?" Miss Denise motioned to her hair. "Okay." And so Miss Denise dragged me over to her dressing table where she sat down. "Just a quick brush. Just to remove the tangles and make me look presentable." Her hair was long, well past her shoulders, and a gorgeous dirty-blonde color, and so brushing it properly did take a few minutes. "Excellent," she said, jumping up, turning towards me and holding out her arms. "How do I look?" "Beautiful," I said, sincerely. "But, uh... Miss Denise?" I ventured. "Yes?" "You might, ah... want to close your robe and tie the belt?" Miss Denise looked down at her robe which was gapping open, but then just looked back at me, with an air of expectation. Oh shit, I realized. She wants _me_ to close her robe and tie the belt for her. What the hell is going on here? After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, I pulled her robe closed and then tied the belt snuggly around her waist. "You are _such_ a dear," she said, giving me another kiss on the lips, this time gently squeezing my fanny. "Now let's get downstairs before mother starts to wonder what the hell happened to us." * * * I heard the bell and then, "Miss Clarke?" I quickly got up from my stool in the antechamber and walked into the main dining room where Mrs. Roberts and Miss Denise were finishing breakfast. "Yes, Ma'am?" "I'd like to ask you a question, dear. On my way down to breakfast, I noticed that the washing machine was running a load of clothes. Apparently you had started a load of laundry of Denise's things. Why?" "I... I..." Obviously I couldn't tell her that I had started a load to clean my cum stains off of Miss Denise's T-shirt! "I..." I stammered, trying to think up a good reason. "Did you really think that Denise might need clean clothes to wear today?" "Well, I guess I just thought..." "Oh, silly!" Denis said, giggling. "I have *tons and tons* of clothes! Surely you didn't think I needed those cleaned for today, did you?" "Well, I suppose not... now that you say it like that..." "So then, it must have been just because you wanted to do something nice for Miss Denise, is that it, Miss Clarke? So that Miss Denise would have all her clothes clean and everything in order?" I looked down at the ground and traced circles on it with my toes. "Yes," I lied. "I guess that was it." "See?" Mrs. Roberts said to her daughter. "I told you that Miss Clarke was becoming quite attached to you." "Oh, Miss Clarke!" Miss Denise jumped up and gave me yet another hug. There's a lot of hugging in this family, I realized. Not that I was complaining. "Doing my dirty laundry just so I'd have clean clothes to wear," she continued, "that's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me! And that after you made my bed this morning!" "She did _what_?" Mrs. Roberts exclaimed, her face showing true surprise for the first time. "Miss Clarke made my bed for me this morning," said Miss Denise with the voice of a girl showing off her prized possession. "Really?" "*And* brushed my hair!" "Well, I thought it looked better than usual. Miss Clarke, It seems that you've become quite a devoted member of the household and to my daughter. "Thank you, Ma'am. I... uh... I guess I have." "And so, I hope that you'll forgive her when she tells you something." "Forgive her for what?" "I... ah..." this time it was Miss Denise who was stuttering. I'm, so sorry!" she blurted out, her eyes filling with tears. "I accidentally threw your clothes down the trash chute!!" she sobbed. "What??? How could you?" Conflicting emotions warred within me. Of course I was pissed that Miss Denise had thrown my things away, but confused and taken aback by her crying and obvious distress. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!" she wailed. "I... I... just wanted to do something nice for you, and so I went to wash your clothes, but I've never done laundry before - and I use the trash chute all the time - and I was in a hurry, and I just made a mistake and threw your clothes down the chute. When I realized what I had one, it was too late there was nothing I could do! I'm so sorry!" "But... can't we just go down to wherever the trash is gathered..." "Actually, I'm afraid it's really an incinerator," said Mrs. Roberts. "WHAT???" "We had it installed last year. We're so far away from regular services that it's cheaper to incinerate our trash if we can. I'm sorry, Miss Clarke, but your clothes are gone." "But then..." I suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed, "what will I wear?" "We will just have to figure something out. I'm afraid that we've treated you very poorly. Of course I'll compensate you for your clothes, just let me know how much they cost. Can you find it in your heart to forgive us?" Mrs. Roberts stood up and placed a hand to my cheek, and caressed it gently. I looked up at her lips and remembered kissing them this morning. "Yes, please forgive us," Miss Denise said, still sniffling, her tears soaking into my robe. "Please??" "Okay," I said. "Of course. It was just an accident, right?" "That's right..." Miss Denise replied, in a small voice. "And they're just clothes. Like you said, Ma'am, I'm sure we can find something appropriate for me to wear." "Most definitely," said Mrs. Roberts. "We'll find something that's just perfect for you." * * * "Oh dear, this is unexpected," said Mrs. Roberts, opening up the first of her husband's old clothes. The three of us were in a large storage closet on the third floor. Instead of 'men's shirts', as was labeled on the outside of the box, it contained what looked like a mass of satin, spandex, and straps. "Mother, look!" said Miss Denise, pointing to the opposite side of the box, which displayed the label 'Girdles and Shape wear'. "You must have re-used the box and simply placed it on the shelf with the wrong side out." "Very good, Denise! That explains it. Well, let's keep looking, I'm certain they're here somewhere." But after pulling down and opening every single box in the closet, including three others all (incorrectly) labeled has having men's clothing, even I was forced to admit that Mr. Roberts' clothes had gone missing. "I'm sorry, Miss Clarke, but it seems that my husband's old clothes are nowhere to be found. This closet was the only place they could have been." "But... but..." the world around me felt like it was tilting to one side, "but then, what will I wear? Ma'am?" Mrs. Roberts looked at me with pity. "Well, it seems to me like there's not much choice, now is there? After all, the only clothes, in this entire house, are _women's_ clothes, in other words, clothes which belong to me or one of my three daughters." "But that means..." "That's right. You will have to wear woman's clothing for the duration of your stay." "No!" I sputtered. "I mean, can't... can't we have some clothes delivered or something?" "I don't think clothing stores make house calls." "But couldn't we--" "Are you saying that our clothes are not good enough for you to wear?" "No Ma'am! Of course not." "So then, are you saying that you don't appreciate that we are, quite literally, giving you the clothes off our backs so that you can be properly attired while in this household?" "No, no. I mean, of course, I appreciate it! You've both been so wonderful to me. It's just that..." "Are you're worried that you won't look proper in women's clothing?" "Yes!" I breathed a sigh of relief, finally having a good excuse. "Yes, that's it exactly." "You are such a dear! I understand now. You feel that if you were to look like a man, dressed up in women's clothing, then that would be improper. That is so thoughtful and generous of you to be concerned. After all, you know how much I stress that everyone, at all times, must be properly attired, correct?" "Exactly... Ma'am. I... I just want to appropriately and properly attired. I know how important that is to you." "And you want to always 'look the part'. Is that right?" "Yes, that's right." "Well Miss Clarke," Mrs. Roberts said, with glee, "I am delighted that you've decided to embrace my house rules with such enthusiasm! Of course it will be extra work for all of us. Honestly, I'm quite surprised you want to go to that extreme, but no matter. Denise and I will make absolutely certain that you are properly attired for your position in the household at all times! If you're concern is entirely that you'll look ridiculous as a man in women's clothing, then Denise and I will just have to make sure that you do *not* look ridiculous! We'll just have to make sure that to the entire world, you look _just like a woman_." "No, wait," I stepped back, horrified. "Oh, fabulous!!" Miss Denise said, jumping up. "Oh Miss Clarke, this will be so much fun!!" "But... but..." I sputtered, "I can't do that!" "Why ever not, dear?" "Because... well, I'm a man! I can't be caught wearing women's clothing!" "But I don't understand," Mrs. Roberts said, looking puzzled. "You just told me how important it was for you to be _properly attired_ isn't that right? How much you wanted to _look the part_." "Well, yes, that is what I said..." "And I can assure you that Denise and I just _love_ the idea, don't we Denise?" "Oh yes!!" her eyes beamed with delight. "And we certainly won't think anything less of you, not at all! In fact, you are doing _us_ such a favor, after all, it was Denise that accidentally destroyed your clothes. The fact that you're being just so ever agreeable - as I always knew you would be the minute I set eyes on you - just goes to show what a gracious individual you are." "You are!" Miss Denise added, with a wide grin which she just couldn't seem to stop. "But men are not supposed to wear women's clothing..." I whimpered, shrinking under the onslaught. Mrs. Roberts paused for a second before continuing. "I think that what you mean is that men are not supposed to _want_ to wear women's clothing, isn't that right?" Mrs. Roberts asked, softly. My heart twisted up in my chest. I found myself backed up against the shelves in the closet. A stray bit of polyester satin and lace brushed against my cheek, where it had been dangling from a box on the shelf. The smell of lingerie, fabric, and mothballs closed in around me. Mrs. Roberts pulled a nylon and lace slip from of the box and handed it to me. She then kissed me gently on the cheek, her mouth warm and wet. "Admit it dear," she said. "This will all be so much easier if you just be honest with yourself. You've already told us you like wearing pretty things. And it will be so much easier for everyone if you just acknowledge the truth." "What truth?" I asked, my voice cracking. I held the slip against my cheek, like a security blanket. "Trust us," said Mrs. Roberts. "Denise and I will take good care of you, won't we, Denise?" "Oh yes," she said, seriously. "And we will always, _always_ treat you with respect, and we will never, _ever_ make fun of your or allow anyone else to make fun of you. Isn't that right, Denise?" "I would never, _ever_ let anyone say anything against my Miss Clarke!" said Denise, defiantly. "Really, you are _such_ a dear to be so patient with me, and so willing, and so... helpful all the time." "I..." "Yes?" Mrs. Roberts prompted. My heart was thumping so hard I was afraid it would burst from my chest. The butterflies in my stomach were so bad I was nauseous. My eyes misted over. "I..." a little sob escaped from my lips. "Hush, it's okay. Go ahead and tell us." I took a few deep breaths. "Okay," I croaked. The hint of a triumphant smile crossed Mrs. Roberts' face. "Okay, what, dear?" "Okay, Ma'am, I'll... uh... I will... I'll wear... Whatever you think is best. Whatever you want me to wear." "Or Denise?" I looked at Miss Denise, who was smiling, mischievously. I resigned myself to the worst. "Yes, Ma'am," I said, "Whatever you or Miss Denise feels is best." "But, Miss Clarke, we only have women's clothes in the house, apparently. That means we'll have no choice but to dress you up in women's clothing. Are you sure that is what you want?" "Yes, Ma'am, that will be fine." "Just fine?" I gulped. "No, Ma'am. More than just fine. That would be... very nice." "So, you're saying that you _want_ to be dressed in women's clothing?" Mrs. Roberts was ruthless! "Yes... Yes, Ma'am. That's what I'm saying." "That's not enough." "Ma'am?" I asked, shocked. "I need you to agree to let Denise and I take over full control of your entire appearance. You must put yourself completely into our hands. That is the only way that this will work." "I know it's a lot to ask," said Miss Denise, squeezing my arm gently. "But Mother is right. Everything will be wonderful, you'll see. We'll take such good care of you." Miss Denise let a hand drift down until it was lightly rubbing against my bottom. Mrs. Roberts unbuttoned my robe exposing the soft nightgown underneath. Her fingers rubbed back and forth over my nipples. "Let me help you," said Mrs. Roberts, lightly kissing me, on the lips this time. "Miss Clarke, do you agree to let Denise and I take over full control over your appearance?" Was this what I really wanted? "I think she needs a little more encouragement, Mother," said Miss Denise. "How about this?" Miss Denise undid her robe and let it drop to the floor. She then unbuttoned her silk pajama top, exposing the swell of her gorgeous cleavage. "What an excellent idea, Denise," Mrs. Roberts said, following suit. Underneath her robe was a sumptuous nightgown much like mine. She undid the tie at the top and the neckline gapped open. "Now let me ask you again, Miss Clarke," Mrs. Roberts said. "Do you agree to let Denise and I take over full control of our appearance?" She kissed me on the lips again and then looked me directly in the eyes. "Yeeessss," I responded, feeling a sudden shiver run through my body. What had I done? "And do you agree to enthusiastically participate? To eagerly and gratefully wear whatever we tell you to wear, and do whatever we tell you to do?" I took a few deep breaths. "Yes," I agreed. "Good girl," Miss Denise whispered. "Very good, Miss Clarke. Now, just so we are all perfectly clear as to what you've just agreed to, I want you to repeat it back to me. Can you do that?" "Uh... well, I agreed---" "No, dear. _Ask us_. Ask us nicely. I'm sure you know what to do." "Oh, uh... okay. Ma'am, would you... umm... please take over control of my entire appearance?" "For what purpose?" "To... uh... help me dress appropriately... um..." "Appropriate is good. But In what kind of clothes?" "In women's clothing." "But why do you need me to take complete control over your appearance?" "Because... I mean... so I can look... so I won't..." "Go on," she said, encouragingly. "You've almost got it." "So that I won't look like a man in women's clothing." "But if you don't look like a man in women's clothing, then what _would_ you look like?" "A woman," I whispered. "That's right," said Mrs. Roberts. "You want me to take over complete and total control of your appearance so that you will look like a woman, isn't that right?" "Yes, Ma'am." "From head to toe. Right?" "Yes, Ma'am." "Inside and out, isn't that right?" "Yes, Ma'am," I gulped. "Inside and out." "Miss Clarke, I sincerely accept your request and will do my utmost to do exactly as you've asked. But there's just one more thing I'm missing." "More? But what?" "I need you to tell me that you want it." "I..." I looked from Mrs. Roberts to Miss Denise and back. "I..." "Miss Clarke?" "Yes, Ma'am. I... I..." I was stammering so hard I almost couldn't say it. "I want it," I said finally, tears spring to my eyes. "Want what?" "I... I _want_ you to take over complete and total control of my appearance so that I will look like a woman." "How much do you want it?" I looked up at her, pleading with her to stop this interrogation. "Miss Clarke--" Mrs. Roberts said, with a hint of warning. "Yes, Ma'am. Very much. I... I want it very much." And then I couldn't stop myself. I began to cry. "There, there," she said softly, pulling me into a warm hug with my head against her chest. "It feels good, doesn't it? Good to let go? Let us take care of you. Put your fate into our hands." * * * "Oh dear," Mrs. Roberts said, frowning. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear." I stared at the ground, shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Ma'am," I said in my most contrite voice. We were all back in my bedroom where Miss Denise and Mrs. Roberts were picking out clothes for me to wear. When they asked me to take off my robe and nightgown, I panicked. There was no screen in my bedroom, they would see me in just a pair of panties! At first I tried to go to the bathroom to change, but that was down the hall, and then I begged them that I was too shy -- but they were having none of that! And so, there was nothing to do but undress right in front of them. Then I remembered that I was still wearing the cum-stained panties from the night before! "It looks like we've had an accident?" Mrs. Roberts remarked. "Don't try and cover up your transgression. Put your hands to your side." With a sigh, I did as instructed. The cum-stained panties from the night before were there for all to see. And even worse, there were two new wet spots. "Oh goodness," Miss Denise giggled. "Looks like _someone_ lost control, didn't they?" she tutted. I hoped beyond all hope that the floor would open up and swallow me whole. "Miss Clarke," said Mrs. Roberts in her most patient tone. "I understand that girls like you have... ah... certain _physical_ needs. But that does not excuse a lack of self-control." "Yes, Ma'am. I'm sorry Ma'am." "And you do realize why this is a problem, don't you? Denise and I will be dressing you in many very beautiful, _very expensive_ clothes. Do you understand? And we can't have you staining them." "Yes, Ma'am, I understand, Ma'am." "But clearly, as we can see the evidence before us, you appear to lack sufficient will power. And so, I think we'll need to attack this problem with an appropriate set of punishments and demerits, until you learn." "Ma'am?" I asked, tremulously. "Punishments and demerits, Miss Clarke. After all, you will never learn control unless there are negative consequences. You see how that's necessary, don't you?" "Negative consequence?" "Exactly. Now let's decide on the punishment. I don't believe in arbitrary punishments. So, let's say... eight demerits and a mandatory spanking with the paddle to be given immediately upon discovery." I gasped out loud. An immediate and mandatory... spanking?? She couldn't possibly mean...? "Oh dear," Miss Denise said. I could tell she felt sorry for me. "Yes, that's right. The severity of the punishment underscores the seriousness of the offense. And let me be clear, the punishment will be the same regardless of the size, or... ah... _quantity_ of the infraction. No matter how or why, and no matter the extenuating circumstances - any accident, spotting, or leakage whatsoever will be punished with equal severity. Only within the boundaries of an absolute and unbending set of rules will you learn self-control, I am convinced. My mind is quite made up on this point. Do I make myself absolutely clear?" Of course I understood that leaks and accidents could be disastrous if they got onto the expensive clothes. But spankings and demerits? This was too much! What was I going to do? "Miss Clarke? Do you understand?" repeated Mrs. Roberts, her eyes glittering. I looked back and forth between them. I was being treated like a naughty child, with discipline and spankings and corrective actions! What was I going to do? If I couldn't control myself... but I would have to! I thought back. Last night was surely just an aberration, right? After all, I'm a grown human being - surely I can control myself. I had never had problems before. "Miss Clarke?" "Yes, Ma'am, I understand," I responded, submissively. "And do you agree with my rules?" I hesitated, but ultimately decided it was best to just agree. "Yes, Ma'am, I agree to y