BBW Cuckold Maids free porn video

BBW CUCKOLD MAIDS by Throne Molly and Polly stood in the kitchen, waiting to be called. They looked at each other nervously. This would be the first time they were seen by anyone other than their wives and the guys their wives were dating. You see, the pair in the kitchen used to be Mike and Pete. But a series of unfortunate events had left them very much changed. Before it all happened they had been average looking guys, proud of their manliness. Now they were a couple of feminized serving maids, dressed for the job. On top of that, they had been transformed into BBWs, with exaggerated curves that would catch the eye of any red-blooded male. "Isn't there some way to get out of this?" Molly asked plaintively, squeezing her overly plump thighs together. "How?" Polly wanted to know. "We're trapped in these bodies. Only our wives can reverse what they've done to us. If they want to, which I doubt they do." It was especially painful for them to be together because seeing each other was like looking into a mirror. Whenever one of them eyed the other's bulging breasts, soft tummy and jutting bottom, he was reminded that he looked the same way. When one spoke the other knew that his own voice sounded just as soft and high. Even their faces were like reflections, with that non-removable make-up and those permanently puckered lips. It was awful. And what they were wearing didn't make it any better. They wanted desperately to cover their oversized bosoms and well rounded bottoms. But how could they when they were in maid outfits that barely hid anything? All they had on were tiny skirts with nothing under them, joined to bib-fronts that barely prevented their heavy busts from popping free. The aprons they wore were small and bordered with lace, and their caps were solid lace nothings perched atop their heads. Smoky stockings with elastic tops encased their plump shapely legs. Molly self-consciously patted his blond hair, which fell to his shoulders and had been put into rolling waves. Polly echoed his action with his own red locks, which were just as long and done as springy sausage curls. They both pouted, which was quite a sight with those enlarged lips. From the next room they could hear their wives, Bianca and Jerri, sounding happy and relaxed. And why shouldn't they be, with the handsome and sexually desirable boyfriends they had. There stood their husbands, uneasily shifting their feet, which were encased in pretty shoes with thick, two inch high heels. The footwear was sort of Victorian and a nice addition to their oh-so-feminine look. They ran their hands over their soft pink skin, aware of how it felt without a trace of body hair. If only they could keep from being seen this way. But they had no choice. Their awful plight made them think back to how it had all started. ****** "This is going to be perfect," Mike said, rubbing the close-trimmed beard that followed his jawline. "Not only are our wives going to shed some those extra pounds, but once we put them through this, there'll be no questions about who the bosses are in our houses." "Yeah," Pete agreed, tugging at one end of his Zapata moustache. "And once we have them looking the way we want, we can move ahead with teaching them how to be exactly they way we want them... in bed." They shared a laugh but then quieted themselves as their brides came in from the examining room, where they just been given physicals to make sure they were fit enough for what was to come. This new process was brilliant, somehow fooling a person's body into thinking its DNA was programmed differently. It could achieve weight loss, reshape faces, or alter hair texture and color. The guys had even heard that there were some freaky men who came to this place so they could be made girly. Mike and Pete thought that was disgusting. They were certified ball- scratching, beer-swilling, boob-loving males, and don't let anybody say different. The young woman who had checked their wives in, a slender brunette, had caught their eyes. She was the type they wanted Bianca and Jerri to resemble. In fact, they had even told her so, laying it on pretty thick. She had remained cool and reserved as she turned away from them to assure their spouses that everything would be okay. The guys liked it when they got to the waiting area and another girl appeared, short and with nice cupcake tits, bringing them a tray with beverages and snacks on it. They liked being served by an attractive chick and told her so, again not stinting with their compliments and slightly suggestive remarks. She granted them one brief smile as they took long swallows of fruit juice. Mike made a crack about how he'd like to share something stronger with her. Pete -- repeating what they'd said to the previous girl -- stated that he hoped his pudgy Missus would end up like their 'waitress'. She waited until they were done their juice and then sat down across from them. "Hey," Mike wanted to know. "Are you going to hang around to enjoy our company?" Pete added, "While our ladies get their diet treatment?" "Something like that," she told them. Her name badge identified her as Samantha. "I'm observing you." "Oh?" Mike said, making the single syllable sound dirty. He reached for a mini-Danish and popped it into his mouth. "Well observe all you want, sweetlips." "Right," seconded Pete, scooping up several chocolate-covered pretzels and stuffing them into his mouth. "We've got plenty to observe." He turned his eyes meaningfully downward toward his crotch and then guffawed, spraying crumbs over his lap. "I will," Samantha said seriously. "Especially..." She put her gaze on that same spot. "... there." The guys shared a conspiratorial glance and then began eating more of those tempting snacks. They usually weren't that enthused about baked treats but all at once they had rampant appetites. They had finished everything in front of them when they were surprised by the return of their wives. Bianca and Jerri wore smugly amused expressions. Samantha asked the women, "Have you been giving these boys their vitamins for the past two weeks?" "Absolutely," Bianca said. "At least, we told them that's what they were." "And," Jerri continued, "they didn't suspect a thing." "Perfect," Samantha told them. "And what was in the juice they just drank triggered all the DNA prompts that are in their systems. That's why they wolfed down everything on that big tray. Their bodies need lots and lots of calories for the work ahead. Of course, they'll get some of them from certain areas which are going to, shall we say, be reduced in size." Not sure what was going on, but having odd suspicions, the two husbands looked down at their crotches again, this time not so jocularly. Mike started to rise, put out his arms and swayed, then sat back down heavily. Pete pushed himself up by holding the arms of his chair, took two steps, and stood there staring at nothing. Samantha stood and, with professional aplomb, guided him back to his seat, steering him onto it again. The wives each went to their own husband. Bianca put her hand on Mike's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry honey. Everything's going to be fine. Instead of making us skinny, we decided to have you two get... full figured." "That's right," Jerri said as she gave Pete's ear a light pinch. "And we know it's going to be delightful. At least for us, it is." The two of them tittered while the men tried woozily to understand what was happening to them. Samantha exited the room and reentered a minute later bearing a second tray, this one heaped high with fattening foods. There were cream puffs and cheese blintzes and peanut butter cookies and chocolate everything, among many other choices. Mike snatched up something and Pete got a handful of something else. They both stuffed their faces, looking at each other with worried incomprehension. What was happening to them? Their wives were amused by their helplessness in the face of excess calories. Of course they were uncontrollably hungry. Their bodies had plenty of growing to do, many pounds to gain, and exaggerated curves to develop. In the weeks and months to come they would overeat this way often. While the husbands gorged themselves, their spouses came close to pick up some select items to feed to them. The men ate whatever they were offered and greedily sucked the residue from their brides' fingers. "Oh, my," Bianca commented, all innocence. "Whatever has gotten into you two?" "Honestly," Jerri said, picking up on the thought. "If you keep this up, you'll be carrying more weight than us." "For a couple of fellows who wanted their wives to shed some pounds, you're not setting a very good example." "It might just end up that you two will be the ones with the fullest hips. And biggest bottoms." "And most overgrown boobies." With their mouths full, the two men looked despairingly at their wives. The questions in their slightly dazed minds were obvious on their faces. And their brides were only too happy to answer. "If you haven't guessed, we've turned the tables on you, boys. Instead of treatments to make us lose weight, we've gotten the nice people here to give something designed to turn you into Big Beautiful Women. Or maybe Bosomy Bottomy Wussies." "Yeah. Busty Bulging-Butt Wimps." Around a mouthful of half-chewed food, Mike managed to say, "You can't do that. It's... it's not..." Pete completed the thought with, "It's not fair." "And was it fair for you two jerks to try to get us programmed to lose weight, if we wanted to or not?" "Exactly. Turnabout is fair play." The guys sat there in shock but didn't stop eating. With crumbs on their trembling chins and the full impact of what was happening registering in their minds, they pleaded with their eyes. There was no sympathy from their wives. What had been set into motion was not going to be stopped. A week later, the men had lost all their body hair. They looked different without beards or moustaches. Their skin was smooth and pink and seemed to glow from within. They had also begun putting on weight. There was a softness to their features and the first hints of changes to come on their bodies. Why didn't they rebel? What kept them from protesting loudly to their wives? Simple. Their once proud and boast- worthy genitals had shrunk to ridiculously small sizes. With their pubic hair gone and their man parts reduced to immature-boy parts, they were too upset and too afraid of not being able to regain what they had lost to fight back. The women had been told this would happen, along with the pacifying effects of the DNA reprogramming. When the men dared to voice any concerns about their dilemma, the words came out as wispy and lacking conviction. As their old appearances were taken from them, so were their former personalities. Their wives enjoyed being together and keeping their transforming husbands with them. It was delightful to watch Mike and Pete gaping at each other in disbelief as, day by day, they grew softer and rounder. When they sprouted man boobs and their backsides lost definition and got round, it was fun to see them watching the changes in the mirror-like images as they stood together. Their muscle mass diminished and with it went their masculine strength. The women had them doing all the housecleaning. There were special tasks, like hand washing the ladies' intimates. It was hilarious to see the husbands at the kitchen sink together, laundering panties and delicate nightwear. At the same time, the women began to change their mates' wardrobes. Gone were the flannel shirts and worn jeans, replaced by colorful tops of satiny material and bright slacks that molded themselves to growing contours. The wives insisted that these were men's clothes but they were smirking at each other and winking while they did. The husbands understood that they were being transitioned into female clothing but had lost the will to object. Their nipples had become sensitized and the feel of caressing fabrics on them was strangely stimulating. By the next week the women had them in panties, which tightly encased their still shrinking genitals and made them even less prominent. The men often stole looks at each other's crotches to check how much more they were losing. Another week passed, with those man boobs enlarging into something distinctly female, the nipples beginning to jut out. When the husbands became too upset by it all their wives offered them consoling hugs... from each other. The men didn't want to do that but felt they had no alternative. Angering their spouses could mean that what was between their legs might never regain the dimensions it had once possessed. So they hugged... and even nuzzled each other's necks. To their dismay, those contacts began to make them tingle in inappropriate ways. Their small penises twitched inside their snug panties and made embarrassing wet spots on the fronts. The guys became prone to whimpering and even occasional weeping. Their wives loved it. Revenge can be so sweet. And speaking of sweets, they continued to feed the guys all the treats they could stand, which was a lot. And there were cheeses and meats laden with calories, as well as plenty of starches. The pounds continued to mount up. Along with their curves, the husbands acquired womanly body language and gaits. Was it the weight gain, seeing themselves look less and less like men, or having their spouses treat them like silly females? Perhaps it was the combination of all three. It didn't help them when they were given their first women's shoes. Initially the heels were low but, like the curves they were showing, they increased. There were also new bedroom rules. The women were getting turned on by what they were doing, and declared that it was still up to the husbands to satisfy their sexual needs. But because what once had been cocks were now more like fingers, all sexual favors given to the wives would have to be of the oral variety. The men -- if you could still call them that with a straight face -- had always disliked eating pussy, to the point where they had refused to do it. Now their kinder and gentler selves were too weak willed to refuse. They meekly got into bed with their wives and obediently got their faces between the girls' thighs, there to be taught the fine art of licking, sucking and probing. The women enjoyed multiple orgasms while the men suffered the torments of desire unfulfilled. That was when their brides mentioned, as if it was just a minor afterthought, that the changes wrought in them would still allow erotic stimulation, even make it more intense, but unfortunately not permit any release via penile pumping. Poor poor hubbies. After the men had gratified their wives -- and not allowed to clean their mouths -- they were sent off together to sleep in a shared bed. A spare bedroom had been converted in each house, changed to frilly pink sissy spaces, with lace curtains and plenty of mirrors to remind the guys of what they looked like now. The two increasingly voluptuous she-men had to share a bed. This was not only unsettling to what remained of their male egos, but created a constant temptation for them to touch each other and try to quench the fires of lust that burned low but steady within their libidos. They tried not to think about those needs but at night, after they had done their duty serving the women -- who occasionally mate-swapped them -- they were dressed in pretty nighties and put under the covers together with their brides telling them not to touch each other. Those warnings always got them thinking about doing just that. They were so close together in bed, smelling the flowery perfumes that they were made to wear, the deodorants and soaps and creams and emollients, all of which mingled to produce seductive scents. It was only with an effort that they kept their hands off each other. And it didn't help that they were now called and required to call each other by girls' names. Mike became Molly and Pete was rechristened Polly. Inevitably, those efforts to not play touching games failed. At first tentatively, they began to explore each other's smooth chubby bodies. To stroke. And fondle. And kiss. The women stood outside their door, which was left open just a crack, and listened to hushed lightweight voices. "Oh, Polly, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put my hands on your... chest area. I'd stop touching you there but..." "It's all right, Molly. Honest. Here, let me touch you the same way. That makes it okay." "Gosh, honey, your nipples are so hard. But they feel so good between my fingers." "I..." (gasp) "... don't mind..." (gulp) "... when you do that ... " (mewl) "Well, maybe you should do it to me, too. Please?" "Oh, I feel so dirty doing this. So guilty." "Maybe we should stop." (moans) (purring) (sighs) "Just a while longer, baby. Even though we're being bad." "Our wives are going to be angry if they find out." (moment of silence) (deep breaths) "They won't find out. You're hair feels so nice. And it's getting so long." "Yours too. I love the way you have it pushed back behind your ears. Your ears are so pretty. Just let me kiss them and..." (lots of rising-and-falling, wordless vocalizations) Just then the women strode menacingly into the room. Bianca said, "I hope you sissy sisters aren't doing anything naughty under the covers." "Yes," agreed Jerri. Then she softened and told them, "Well, a little touching here and there might be okay. But no kissing. Or hands on dicks." "And especially no kissing on dicks. No kissing and sucking. Even though that MIGHT be enough to make you get your jollies." The wives stayed a few more minutes, admiring the pink and white dresser, the white and pink lamp atop it, and the newly purchased cosmetics arrayed alongside the lamp. While the women chatted, the guilt their spouses felt grew deeper and more unshakable. Finally, Bianca and Jerri were ready to leave. They couldn't resist getting in a few more shots at their spouses' shaky self-images. "Nighty night," Bianca called. "Now don't you girls start tiddling each other's diddles." "Sleep tight," Jerri said as she pulled the door almost closed. "And no sucking on those little lollipops." After they were gone, the husbands lay in bed face-to-face. They reached out at the same time and held hands. Mike touched Pete's toes with his own. Pete buried his face against Mike's shoulder. "Do you think that's true?" Mike wanted to know. "That we might be able to... um... get some satisfaction. If we..." "Did what they said? With our mouths? On our... you-know-whats?" There was an awkward moment of silence, after which Pete slid down all the way under the covers and began to turn himself around, holding his new breasts as he backed up to align himself with Mike. Pete was impressed by how well his new mammary mounds filled his hands. He was kind of disappointed, however, at the smallness of his bedmate's male endowment, even though he knew it matched his own. There was some uncertain fondling, two tiny erections and then, with shame and regret- before-the-event, mouths finding mini-members. They snuggled and sucked and brought each other to the brink again and again over the following hour. But, as the wives knew, even while they were suggesting the opposite, those increasingly fervent efforts could not produce the desired results. In the end there would only be more frustration, thwarted urges, and guilt, shame and self-recrimination. That became a regular feature of the husbands' time in bed together. They learned that it couldn't get them off but by then they couldn't stop doing it, either. The wives were tickled at the situation they had helped to create. But now it was time to take the guys to an even lower level. They would be turned into maids. Their figures had blossomed enough that they could be well shown off in the outfits planned for their new roles. Bianca called them into the recreation room, which had formerly been a man cave, but was now a wife den. The changed men stood there in their cleaning clothes: panties, rainbow striped tank tops, and hair nets covered with shiny star shapes. They felt ridiculous and exposed, exactly the effect that wives had intended. But now they sensed that something new was going to happen, a fresh indignity would be visited upon them. They were not wrong. Bianca announced, "Because you're doing the work of a couple of maids, we decided to get you outfits appropriate for your jobs." Jerri told them, "And we were even able to find them in your sizes." She described invisible shapes in the air with her hands, indicating the guys' lush figures. Mike and Pete looked sideways at each other. They had on cosmetics by then, along with the first of the treatments that would give them permanent make-up. Though they tried to deny it to themselves, it was plain that they had become quite zaftig, with grapefruit tits and throw- pillow buttocks. Whenever they moved, those areas took on a life of their own, jiggling and wiggling and bouncing. They were always self- conscious. They inched closer to each other, as if that would protect them from what came next. But their wives began to show them what they were expected to wear. First came small frilly caps. Then dresses with bib fronts and micro-skirts. No panties. Fishnet stockings. Black shoes with square toes and thick two-inch heels. They got dressed and were distraught to see that the outfits covered very little, as well as allowing many possibilities for wardrobe malfunctions. There might be boobs popping free and whenever one of them bent forward it would be peek-a-boo time in back. They blushed brightly as their spouses made them strut around swaying their hips even more than usual, thrusting out their busts, and licking their lips, which had also grown fuller. They had to walk with hands on hips, then with arms out to the sides and wrists limp, next holding outsized feather dusters and flicking them everywhere. The women laughed and said they approved. The men couldn't stop thinking about how their attributes jounced and bounced and showed themselves off. And they weren't done ballooning up, the ladies assured them. So shaken were the husbands that, without being told to, they wrapped their arms around each other and embraced tightly. Bianca said, "Isn't that sweet? What are you going to do next? Get into the sixty-nine position and and play suck-suck-goose? Hmmm. Get your mouths on those itty bitty boy toys and poke your wicked fingers into those well upholstered bums?" "You might as well," Jerri suggested. "We know you do it all the time in bed, you wicked sissy sluts. Hey, it's okay. We've both got boyfriends now. When we leave you with a long list of chores to do and we're gone for the evening, we're getting properly laid by men who have the equipment to do it right, and who know how to use what they've got." "Go on, girls. Down on the carpet. Put on a show for us. If it's good enough, maybe you can do a command performance for our lovers." The husbands lowered themselves hesitantly to the deep pile carpet and then reflexes took over. They moved naturally into the 69 position and fastened their mouths onto each other's miniaturized dicks. At the same time, fingers reached around and slipped between big well padded butt cheeks, to find and poke tight orifices. There was much groaning, noisy sucking, wild excitement, but never the desired over-the-top climaxes. The wives enjoyed the show for a while, sitting on the couch and giving instructions for further love-play. They had their helpless subjects mouthing each other's nipples simultaneously, then made them take turns slurping each other's bungs. At last, huffing and puffing, they were ordered to stand and give each other a final, butt-flavored kiss. "I think we're ready now," Bianca said. "Ready to have a coming-out party for our dear girls." "They'll be the center of attention. Especially when they're having one of their naughty sessions like they just showed us. I'm sure all the guests will want to see how much they adore playing with each other's rubbery blubbery bodies." "And who knows? Maybe they'll finally both get to empty their baby-sized balls." "But I doubt it." ****** Which brings us back to where we started, with Mike and Pete -- now Molly and Polly -- anxiously awaiting the arrival of the guests and the dreaded party. The doorbell rings and they have to rush together, their bulging charms wobbling around, cantaloupe boobs bobbing, to greet the first arrivals. There's a firm male knock and they have to hurry again, barely covered in those humiliatingly inadequate outfits, to admit their wives' lovers, who sneer at them as they pass by and go straight to the women to give them open-mouthed kisses and run rude hands over their curves. Another ring of the bell and they maids rush, mincing carefully on their heels, full lips pouting, to greet a woman in black who is followed by -- oh no -- a figure who looks much like themselves and who is introduced as Amy Dee. She/he is tall and carries queen-sized boobs and bottom, along with thick thighs and full but firm calves. She removes a long, faux fur, hooded coat to reveal that all she has on underneath is a thin body- stocking that is stretched to the point of transparency over the most dramatic of her curves. A tiny penis is visible between her legs. Amy Dee's hair has been shaved on the sides of her head and what's on top was arranged into large curls that shift around when she moves. They have been colored a bright glossy blue. Her make-up is intentionally overdone to give her face an artificial look. She is visibly concerned by how everyone is staring at her with open fascination and amusement. There are a few late arrivals and then Molly and Polly have to begin serving. They circulate with trays of snacks, drooling over what they carry but aren't allowed to touch. The trays are held at breast level and every time guests helps themselves to some toothsome delight, they also brush their fingers across those overgrown globes, sometimes through the material of a skimpy uniform, other times on their bare protruding sides. More than one mischievous guest manages to stimulate their nipples, so that the husbands are not only tantalized by the unavailable food, but also primed for action by the titty teasing. Male and female hands paw their bottoms. Curious fingers press against those ripe, brightly colored lips. Amy Dee, meanwhile, is on her knees in a corner. Anyone can step up to her and put their crotch or backside in front of her face to be kissed. She is required to thank them and ask if they would like anything more intimate done. Though they all decline, the poor BBW sissy is in constant fear that someone will take her up on the offer and everyone will witness her efforts. Several of them say that they might be interested later, which keeps her in strained suspense. The woman who brought her makes Amy Dee describe advanced services she can provide, having her sound seductive, use lewd language, and lick her puffy lips repeatedly. The entire time, the kneeling figure is blushing beet red. Then it is time for the main entertainment. Everyone goes to the recreation room and sits while Molly and Polly are put before them. The reluctant guys have to start slow, kissing each other chastely, stroking each other's rounded arms. They move on to playing with their partner's super-sized melons, which makes them squirm their hips and breath hard. Their agitated movements make those heavy rotundities plop free and that's when Bianca and Jerri step in. They have their husbands rub boobs with each other while tongue kissing. Then each spouse demonstrates how easily he can pull either breast upward to such his own nipple. That leads to sucking each other's and soon they are on the carpet, hungrily mouthing those nubbins that used to be real cocks. There are comments and encouragement from the audience, which add to the performers' already excruciating mortification. They writhe together while viewers make suggestions for new tricks they can perform. The session ends with them worshipping each other's asses and then kissing deeply, over and over. When they make faces at having to do that, Bianca produces a bar of soap and has them kneel close together so that they can each take one end of it into their mouth. That puts their faces close together, lips touching, while they suffer a double mouth-washing. The wives intentionally purchased the soap at a dollar store, finding a particularly strong scent, which is now coating the poor BBWs' tongues. A mix of saliva and soap dribbles down the backs of their throats, making them feel nauseated. They are left like that while the party continues. Amy Dee is made to model some bondage gear and has various vibrators demonstrated on her. At last the happy crowd begins to say their goodbyes and leave. Eventually the only ones there are the wives, their lovers, and Molly and Polly, the soap still in their mouths, its perfume bringing tears to their eyes and making their noses run. They are left that way even longer while the eager couples, their sexual appetites whetted by all that has gone before, sit on the couch and sofa and begin making out. With their mouths stuffed full, the husbands can only watch and moan with misery as their wives accept the attentions of those two very masculine men. The BBWs have to witness their brides being handled and appreciatively groping the equipment of their dates. Buttons are undone and belts unbuckled. They stand up, ready to move to the master bedroom. The sissies are permitted to go and thoroughly rinse their mouths. They can't believe that they have been granted that favor. Why would their wives let them do that? Molly and Polly, each hugging his breasts to keep them from jiggling too wildly, hurry to the bedroom, as instructed. There they find the couples sharing the king-sized bed, side by side. Clothing is strewn around the floor and the husbands have to pick it up, fold it neatly, and set it on a nearby chair. All the while, their wives are getting even more personal with their boyfriends. As additional flesh is bared, everyone can see how well endowed the real men are. M and P are reminded of how pitifully tiny their own genitals have become, thanks to their wives. The men mount Bianca and Jerri, one in the missionary position and the other doggie style. As the husbands look on, badly shaken, the women are penetrated and properly ridden. Molly and Polly hold onto each other and watch jealously as the action quickens and reaches its orgasmic finish. The four people on the wide bed are very satisfied. The watchers are traumatized. What could be worse? As if to answer the two recent questions -- why the mouth rinsing and what would be even more awful? -- Bianca raises her head, smiles sleepily, and says, "All right, girls. Time for clean-up duty. You're both already terrific at eating pussy. But now you have to make an extra effort, so you can lick up the huge messes our men have left at the same time you're giving us each at least one more climax. Let's go. Get busy." "You heard her," Jerri says in support. "Get those pillow lips on our pussy lips. Yum, yum." Appalled at what they are being told to do, the hapless husbands nevertheless get onto the foot of the bed and move up between their brides' spread legs. The salty deposits of spunk are overflowing the girls' slits. Molly glances at Polly. Both of them wear sickened expressions. Their big round tits hang down and their full fat asses jut out. They lower their faces, extend their tongues, and begin the stomach-turning task. The women chuckle at what they are making their well-controlled husbands do. The guys who had just pumped them grin and make crude comments to M and P about their 'late night snacks' and 'protein shakes'. It takes a while, with the BBWs licking and slurping, and the boyfriends kissing their dates and feeling their breasts. The wives experience small but satisfying orgasms. At last the final ordeal of the evening is over. The sissies are led to their room, told to kiss each other, have to stretch out on the bed in the sixty-nine position, and get lashed together by the rough boyfriends. The real men deliver a few hard swats to the bottoms of the faux females, which makes them squeal and starts them sobbing. At the same time, Molly and Polly can't regulate their ever-present overactive sex drives. All at once they have each other's barely-there dicks in their mouths and are sucking furiously. Though it is painfully shameful to be seen doing that, they are unable to stop. The foursome watch for a while, marveling at how desperately the sissies use their mouths, as well as at how they can't ejaculate, even while being fellated with such passion. The two couples leave the room and close the door. They stroll off with the sounds of frustrated sexual efforts fading behind them. Bianca says, "This is fantastic. We've got them completely hooked on trying to get themselves off. I love watching them suck their own nipples and then putting out so much energy in bed together without it getting them where they want to go." "Absolutely," Jerri agrees. "But I might end up liking these new cuckold games even better. I'm sure we could go a lot further with them. Maybe we can get our wimp husbands participating a lot more, until we get them addicted to THAT, too. Imagine M and P begging us to have our dates come over, just so they can get in on the action and have whatever contact with us that we let them. I can hear them pleading to be allowed to lap our pussies out when they're filled with cream." Everyone laughs. Getting the sissies hooked on being that perverted is a goal worth working for.