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SISSY SAMPLINGS by Throne
"Richard," my wife said, "you are such a pansy."
"I am not," I responded, biting my lower lip and trying not to start
crying. It was hard for me to stand up for myself, dressed as I was.
Vonda had picked out an especially shameful outfit for me that day.
There was a red thong that resembled the bottom of a bikini, and it
showed off the tiny bump made by my endowment. Attached to that and
fitted over my narrow shoulders were loudly colored suspenders. On my
feet she had made me put slippers that had been bedazzled, which means
they were covered with glued-on plastic jewels, tiny toys like you'd get
from a gumball machine, and similar trinkets. As if that wasn't enough,
she had dyed my long hair a ridiculous shade of canary yellow and styled
it into a showy bob with straight-cut bangs. The latter feature drew
attention to my blue eyes, which had been transformed by artfully but
heavily applied make-up and artificial lashes. I was really not looking
like someone who could stand up to his wife.
She went on, "You certainly are. I know it and all my girlfriends know
it. Now, if you want me to tell their husbands, too..."
"NO, NO," I blurted in a panic. "Please don't. I'm sorry. I won't give
you any more backtalk."
"I figured you'd see it my way. But you also have to serve the girls at
a little party I'm having tonight."
"Not... like this."
"Oh? And what would you like to wear? Your pretty maid's outfit? Would
that be better, lambkins?"
"No, but... I mean..."
"You mean that you don't want to be seen in any of your pansy wardrobe by
a bunch of females who are going to laugh at you and make jokes about
what a small-dicked wimp you are. Right?" I hung my head and mumbled,
"Yes, Ma'am." I knew when I was beaten. But I always made the attempt
to defend myself. I couldn't help it. After all, I was a real male and
didn't want to be in the pansy role into which she had cast me. Vonda
had given me a chance in the beginning but got tired of my incompetent
lovemaking, small penis, and abbreviated performance time.
"Don't feel so bad," she consoled airily, not at all sincere. "After
all, you WILL get to see all those cute girls. And you know how they
love to tease you, blowing into your ears and making all those naughty
suggestions. It gets you soooo excited." My wife stepped closer and
pulled the suspenders down off my shoulders. "It gets you excited like
THIS does." Her talented fingers went to my responsive nipples and toyed
with them. I gasped and felt my member grow stiff inside the confining
thong. The material prevented me from becoming completely hard. I was
breathing raggedly, my soft chest rising and falling visibly, as she
giggled at my helplessness. Her thigh came up to rub against my aching
crotch. I bit my lips so she wouldn't get the satisfaction of hearing me
beg. She put her mouth an inch from mine and kissed the air, saying,
"Poor pansy boy."
Vonda abruptly turned away and called back at me, "Get the recreation
room nice and clean for my friends. We wouldn't want them to think
you're shirking your duties. If they thought that, I'd have to punish
you. In front of everybody."
***
As a power hero, Super Ace had an image to maintain. He was always
smiling, helping little old ladies across the street, using his great
strength to punch out criminals, and on and on. But his main job was to
battle and defeat super villains. In fact, just last week he had wrecked
The Brain Baron's army of rampaging robots. It had been a lot of work
but, hey, it got headlines. As Super Ace strode down Central Street, in
the middle of Metro City, he heard distant cries for help. He suddenly
started running, dodging between pedestrians, moving faster and faster
until he was just a blur. The source of the distressed voice grew closer
and he slowed down. It was a boarded up building in the bad part of the
city. Effortlessly, he wrenched open the front door and dashed up the
stairs. When he burst through the door of what he thought was an unused
office he got a shock. The screams were coming from a recording being
played by a computer and there, alongside the desk on which the machine
sat, stood Madame Sade, one of the most sinister villainesses of all. In
her black cat suit and distinctive headband she was unmistakable,
especially because she filled out that skintight outfit so well.
But there was something new on her headband, a small disc that revolved,
sending out visible patterns of -- oh no -- Transformo Energy. The
sturdy crime crusher stopped in his tracks and felt his entire body
tingle. This was one force against which he was defenseless, a weird
combination of science and magic that could warp reality. Madame Sade
laughed triumphantly as she strode up to him, confident that he could do
nothing to defend himself, or to prevent what she was about to do. The
striking woman said, "You have been a bother to me and my peers for too
long, Super Ace. I think it's time you were given a new identity. What
I say now is what you will become." His eyes pleaded but he could do
nothing to save himself. The evil woman went on, "First, I think you are
too tall. Six foot three is excessive. How about... five foot four."
He felt himself shrinking. From his perspective it appeared that she was
growing taller, until she was looking down on him. His costume adjusted
to his new dimensions. "And you are much too muscular. I would rather
see you be slender and soft. In fact, unmanly." His form lost mass and
strength. Madame Sade laughed at his horrified expression. "Oh yes,"
she assured him, "your robot bashing days are over. In fact, your days
of being able to beat anyone, even non-super people, in a fight are done.
Poor weak Supey." She considered the below average person before her and
decided, "Well, I don't want you to be embarrassed by anyone recognizing
you now that you're a weakling, so I'll provide you with a disguise.
Maybe a permanent one."
She strutted around him, making sure he was saturated with the
coruscating energy. Then she went on, "How about if I give you long
flowing hair." His blond locks extended down his back. "And a pretty,
rounded face. With big eyes, long lashes, a pert upturned nose, and
cupid bow lips that are unnaturally red." His features re-made
themselves. She smiled impishly and observed, "You are so pretty. But
no one will be interested in you unless you have a figure to go with that
face. How about a well proportioned shape, like a model? Yes, that's
looking good. But maybe we'll make those budding boobies just a tad
larger. Oops. That was too much. Should I make them shrink or... No.
I'll just grow your butt and thighs enough to balance everything out.
There we go. Wait a second. Now that backside's too full. So the bust
will have to gain a few inches and cup sizes until... Darn. Went too
far again." She sighed. "Don't worry, darling. I'll just keep trying
until I get it right. Let's give you a bubble butt to go with those
overgrown titties. Almost. Just a little more on top. And the bottom
again. And that's it. Gee, now you look like a cartoon girl, all
overdone curves and an inflatable love doll's face. Oh well, I'll just
put some waves into that hair, a natural blush on those cheeks, and make
piercings in your ear lobes. Oh, and I must re-do that costume to show
off the new you. Let's have bare legs, your big butt cheeks half naked,
and a scoop neckline to show off that amazing cleavage. A very DEEP
scoop neckline." She nodded, satisfied with her efforts, and told him,
"All done."
Suddenly he was free of his paralysis. Madame Sade reached out, grabbed
his upper arm, and made him walk alongside her, his massive bust
bouncing. He tried to yank free but lacked the strength. He attempted
to pry loose her fingers but couldn't accomplish even that. The proud
defender was powerless. His captor led him into the next room, where a
queen-size bed dominated the space. Without even trying hard, she tossed
him onto the bedspread on his back. The ceiling was mirrored and he got
a good look at his newly morphed self. His big eyes went wider still as
he viewed the buxom, tiny-waisted, full-hipped sexpot with the innocent
yet seductive face. Super Ace gasped, found is voice at last, and
yelped, "This isn't possible," except that now he spoke in a high, almost
squeaky way. His tormentor laughed and said, "You know it's totally
possible. That's how Transformo Energy works. But hey, at least
everything I did can be reversed, but only by this disc on my headband."
She removed the circle of power and accidently on purpose dropped it onto
the floor. "Whoopsy. Clumsy me. Sure hope I don't step on it with my
boot heel and -- " He heard it crack. " -- and do THAT to it." She
chuckled. "Looks like you're stuck that way, Supey. Or should I call
you... Suzie. Not-so-super Suzie."
Madame Sade looked down at the helpless former power hero and informed
him, "But there is something you can do for me, if you don't want me to
get a fresh disc and make you over again into... oh, I don't know... A
cat girl with a real tail, or maybe Ms. Pigface. You know, I have a wild
imagination. Shall we do that, or would you rather be my sexy slave
girl? Hmmm? And I'll even let you keep your new costume on, to remind
you of who you USED TO be. What's your decision, Suzie? Slutty slave
girl or... something much worse? You decide."
***
"So," my wife Destiny said. "All of a sudden you're not happy with being
treated like a Nancy boy?" I mustered my willpower and squared my
shoulders before telling her, "You know I don't like what you're doing to
me. Sure, I had a few fantasies in this direction, but I never wanted
them to become my life." She shrugged and told him, "Or so you say.
You've been complaining about this a lot lately," paused, and then added,
"which is why I had you make that list a week ago."
"I remember that. But... I mean..." He was suddenly hopeful. "Are you
going to do something about those things?"
"Absolutely," she said. "As soon as Mack gets here." Mack is her lover.
Nearly a year ago, after she cut me off from intercourse, she met him
through one of her girlfriends. He's a big, rude thug with a close-cut
beard that she says feels like sandpaper. When I tried to grow a beard
it was wispy, more like the hair on a man's arm. Anyway, I was glad she
intended to respond to my grievances, but not happy that she would be
doing it when HE was around. It seemed that he spent more and more time
at our home. He slept over a lot, after they had enjoyed loud and
athletic sex.
I stood there in a short, wraparound plaid skirt, held closed by an
oversized safety pin, a white blouse with puffy sleeves, and black
panties. The outfit was finished off by black shoes with decorative
buckles and two inch block heels. With my short auburn wig on I
resembled a high school girl. Destiny knew how much I despised that
look. It made me appear girlish and immature at the same time. But she
loved it and Mack always got a hearty laugh from seeing me that way. The
last time I'd worn it he said maybe they should change my name from Nick
to Sissy Hubby. But they had settled on Nancy. (sigh) Anyway, he
showed up all too soon and guffawed at the sight I made. Then he went to
Destiny, wrapped her in his powerful arms, and gave her an unrushed kiss.
She ran her hands up and down his broad back and he planted his on her
well upholstered rump. When they finally came up for air she reminded
him that they were going to review my list of complaints.
My wife took the piece of paper, held it up with one hand on the top and
the other at the bottom, like it was an official document in a historical
movie, and intoned seriously, "Complaint #1. Nancy says she is
physically uncomfortable because we allow her to get her wimpy dick hard
and play with it but not to make it squirt." She put on a serious look
and exchanged glances with Mack, then turned to me and said, "The other
night while you were cleaning the bathrooms, Mack and I visited a sex
shop and got something to fix that." She went to a side table and opened
the drawer to retrieve a small package, then told me, "Raise your skirt
and drop your panties, girl." I wasn't sure what they were about to do.
The suspense was frightening. When my wife produced a chastity tube, my
heart fell. I had never expected them to put me into one of THOSE. She
told me, "Spread those pretty legs, sugar bits." I did and she deftly
fitted the curved tube over my flaccid member. There was no risk of me
getting hard while she did it because I was too shocked. As soon as it
was on she clicked the tiny padlock shut. A chill ran through me.
Destiny rose, began to finger my receptive nipples, and was amused when I
began to squirm but couldn't get erect. She kept it up for another
minute to drive home my helplessness. The key was on a slender gold
chain and she made a show of putting that around her pretty neck. Mack
had the list and he said, "Complaint #2 is that we keep giving you short
spankings all through the week. Well, that's a fair gripe. So what I've
decided," he explained as he sat down on a hard wooden chair, "is to give
you one long hard spanking for the full seven days." My wife handed him
a black leather glove which he unhurriedly donned. Then he pointed to
me, gestured toward is lap, and patted his thighs, saying, "Let's go,
Nancy. Lose those panties. Assume the position." I meekly stepped out
of the undergarment, aware that my locked dick was on display, went to
him and draped myself across his muscular upper legs. He put his
ungloved hand on the small of my back to steady me and to make sure my
skirt wouldn't interfere with the pending discipline. I wanted to
protest against the unfairness of it all but knew better than to say a
word. Destiny got comfortable on the couch, with a clear view of my
face. She smiled at me. I opened my mouth, ready to dare a syllable or
two, when Mack surprised me with two hard swats to my bare butt cheeks,
making me yelp loudly. He didn't stop there, but landed one after
another, being careful to cover every inch of bare skin he could.
In spite of myself I kicked my feet, and those shoes' buckles made sure
they didn't fly off. I wailed non-stop as my bride drank in the sight of
my contorted flushed features and nodded approvingly. She rubbed her
breasts and licked her lips, reminding me of what I couldn't have, at the
same time encouraging her lover with the suggestion of his reward to
come. I wriggled and bawled as he continued to deliver what started to
feel like an endless spanking. My backside was blazing. Tears ran down
my cheeks. I blubbered and begged but still he didn't slacken his
runaway tempo. Not until I was at my breaking point did Mack sense how
totally defeated I was, stay his hand, and stand up, so that I rolled off
and landed hard on the floor. Mack removed the glove and threw it across
the room. I lay there sniffling and sobbing while my wife went to him
and they hugged, their mouths locked together, their hands roving freely
in vertical foreplay. I had to lay there and look up at them, feeling
totally unmanned and demonstrating my lack of stoicism.
"Hey," Destiny said. "Wasn't Complaint #3 that we upset him all the
time, when we make out and taunt him? Well, I don't want our weak-willed
wuss to feel that way." She grinned down at me. "So from now on, you're
not allowed to show any negative emotions. I want to see you acting
happy, no matter what we do to you. And when we talk to you I expect you
to demonstrate a positive attitude. Always." She stepped away from Mack
and kicked me in the thigh with the pointy toe of her high heel. It hurt
like hell. She said, "Happy? Positive attitude?" I fought back fresh
tears, put a false smile on my trembling lips, and told her, "Yes, dear.
Thank you, darling. That was... um... just what I needed." The both
laughed. Mack decided out loud, "That new outlook is going to come in
handy now, when we deal with the last item for tonight. Complaint #4 is
that I have sex with your wife too often." He chuckled nastily at what
he was about to say. "So now I'm going to start having sex with BOTH of
you. What do you think about that, Nancy?" I quivered at the thought of
that ultimate degradation but then remembered that I was expected to
feign an upbeat reaction. It was a struggle but I managed to sound
halfway in agreement as I responded, "That's a g... great idea, Sir. I
was... hoping you'd decide to... use us... both."
"See?" he said to my wife. "Haven't I been saying all along that he
secretly wants my cock up his sissy ass?" He yanked off my wig and
tossed it aside. I squealed in panic as he clamped one of his broad
hands around my spongy bicep and hauled me to my feet. Then he dragged
me along behind him to the sturdy poker table off to one side of the
room. Mack bent me over the handy piece of furniture, tore off my skirt,
and gave my rump half a dozen solid smacks with has bare calloused palm.
He had aimed his discarded glove at the table so that now it was easy for
him to grab it and stuff it deep into my mouth. He reached between my
legs from behind and tugged on my tubed penis, making me cry out against
the glove that gagged me. I tasted leather. He twisted my vulnerable
balls and laughed at my muffled shriek. Mack rubbed his long hard tool
between my smooth nether cheeks, then pressed its big knob against my
male virginity. He wanted to know, "You want me to do this, don't you,
Nancy?" Fearful of disobeying their newest rule, I nodded vigorously.
He went on, "Because if you don't want me to, I'll stop right now. I'll
only do it if it's going to make you happy. And give you positive
feelings." What could I do? It was the perfect trap. If I was honest I
would earn harsh punishments and, if I pretended eagerness, I would be
ass raped.
Ever the coward, horrified that he might smack me around, and knowing
that in the end I would get it in the end anyway, I nodded again, and
tried to voice my assent through the improvised gag. Mack said, "Well,
all right. But only because YOU want it, lover boy. Or lover girl. Or
whatever," he concluded, then pulled away, spit on his fingers, and gave
my tightness a quick lubricating, outside and in. I whimpered as he
repositioned his rampant organ and began forcing it inside me. I
realized that this would complete my conversion to sissyhood. Not just
that he was doing it to me but that I had wimped out and was accepting
it. Destiny came closer and watched avidly as he fed inch after thick
inch into my twitching body. He chortled as he sank himself in up to his
heavy balls. My wife put her mouth alongside my ear and hissed to him,
"Do it, Mack. Fuck my sissy husband. Make him love it. Prove to him
what a Nancy he really is." I wept, not just from pain, but from having
to admit how much I lacked manhood. Mack set up an unhurried rhythm,
enjoying his pleasure as much as he enjoyed my breaking. Destiny kissed
him hotly as he deflowered me. She couldn't stop muttering
encouragement, telling him how much she craved him, and heaping insults
on me. I could feel my masculine ego fighting its last battle and losing
miserably. Mack plowed me for a quarter of an hour before he allowed
himself to spurt his considerable load. He stayed where he was until he
was quite done, then pulled out and wiped his cock off in the valley of
my ass. I quaked uncontrollably as he went off to shower and my wife
fitted my disheveled wig onto my head at a slight angle.
Destiny took me by the ear, like an errant schoolboy, and walked me to
our bedroom. I felt wetness leaking in the cleft of my bottom. She led
me to our bedroom and stood me in front of the full length mirror. "Take
a good look at what a sissy you are, Nancy. In fact, give your pretty
self a kiss, but first let me..." She took a tube of lipstick in a gaudy
shade of orange and spread it with intentional sloppiness over my mouth.
"Go ahead," she urged. "Kiss that sexpot in the mirror. Do it." She
didn't need the threat of Mack to back her up. I was equally scared by
my bride. I leaned forward and, making sure to smile first, kissed my
own image, leaving a pair of lip prints on the glass. She said, "Do you
like what you see, Nancy?" Even though my face was a wreck, my wig
askew, and my limbs shaking, I said with attempted sincerity, "I just
LOVE the way I look. I'm so glad you and Mack... helped me to see... who
and what I really am." Swallowing with difficulty I concluded, "Thank
you both so much." Looking over my shoulder, Destiny smirked and said,
"And you can thank us every time we remind you of that. Which will be
ALL the time. Tomorrow we'll handle a few more complaints off your
list." I knew she was telling the truth about them using and abusing me
ALL the time. I had been forced into being their sissy and would be kept
that way. Maybe, as she had urged Mack to do, they would even make me
love it.
***
David Prince felt like he was losing his grip on reality. Every day he
went to work at his monochrome office job. And every evening he found
himself becoming an enslaved she-male who was known simply as Butterfly.
What confused him the most was the transition between these two
identities. There was always a period in which his mind was veiled by a
grey mist of unawareness. He could no longer distinguish if one of his
personas was real and the other an illusion. Sometimes it was, "Mr.
Prince, could you please pull up the MindCorp file, review it, and then
come to Ms. Platt's office?" Other times it was, "Butterfly, change into
those delightful slippers, the ones with the curled up toes, and then
meet me in the bedroom." There was no perceptible passage from the one
world to the other.
That is why the question kept repeating itself, "Was he Prince, dreaming
he was Butterfly? Or Butterfly, dreaming she was Prince?
Maris
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