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NOT BUSINESS AS USUAL by Throne Carl couldn't believe that matters had progressed so far. Three months ago he had been the head of a thriving business he owned. Then he had let his buddy Rich get him drunk, accepted that crazy bet, and locked himself in a chastity device provided by his employee. Since then he had realized what a huge mistake it had been, especially because of his relentless sex drive. If he didn't get relief every day he started to get moody and then desperate. He had conceded that he couldn't last the full week to which he had drunkenly agreed. But instead of unlocking him, Rich mentioned that the stakes had been not money, but three promises. Carl's need was so powerful that he went along with it. All he cared about was getting access to his cock again. The first promise he had to make was to shave his body and wear women's underthings until the bet was fully settled. He hated that. Carl had a very strong self image as being masculine. None of that metrosexual bunk for him. He liked his cigars and steaks and busty women who gave BJs on demand. So it was with great reluctance -- and with Rich amusedly observing -- that they went to Carl's luxury penthouse apartment, he stripped down, applied depilatory everywhere there was hair below his eyebrows, and showered ten minutes later to wash off those signs of manhood. Then he had to slip into panties, put on a garter belt, and struggle to don stockings without messing up the effort. He was surprised at how pleasant it felt to have the silky material against his now satiny smooth skin. Then he noticed that Rich was using a small digital camera to take pictures of him. And Carl's subordinate wasn't making any effort to keep his boss' face out of the shots. The executive stammered, "B... but, you could blackmail me with those. I'd be ruined if the guys at the golf resort, or my sports betting buddies, saw those." "Well," Rich responded reasonably, "I won't use them for that unless you force me to. In the meantime, please stop speaking like a man. Let's hear you using a soft voice. Kind of... timid." Carl wanted to object, to point out that this promise was including extras. But everything that had already happened, combined with how his chastity was effecting his mind, and now the threat of blackmail, stopped him. He lowered his eyes and said -- softly and timidly -- "Yes." "Let's make that 'Yes, Sir'." This time Carl didn't even hesitate. Instead he answered at once, "Yes, Sir." Rich decided his victim also needed a corset. He helped Carl get started and even tightened it for him, pulling hard on the laces from behind. Once he tied them off Carl found himself standing and moving differently. Pleased by that change, Rich also decided on a neck collar. It was tall enough that it held Carl's chin up high and he had to lean forward slightly to see where he was putting his feet. Bending that way with the corset on caused him discomfort. He had to take small cautious steps as Rich had him parade around the room. For the next hour Rich put him through his paces, having him assume pin-up poses, handle a long black dildo, and even kiss the centerfold of a magazine that featured nude muscular men posing provocatively. All the while, Rich was expanding his library of embarrassing shots for digital storage. In fact, the happy photographer had a file set up into which he would download them. Next he had Carl put on a tiny lace maid's cap and wait on him. Sitting in Carl's leather recliner, Rich called for a glass of Carl's top of the line whiskey. Then he wanted one of the property owner's finest cigars. He even made poor Carl bend over and light it for him. Then the chastity wearer had to kneel silently while Rich watched his big screen TV. When the sports scores recap came on, Carl was made to close his eyes and put his fingers in his ears so he couldn't get any information about how his bets had done. The second promise was for Carl to come and stay at Rich's apartment, which was considerably less ritzy that Carl's. When he got there and stripped off his male outwear, he found that his host had something special for him to put on. It was a full maid's outfit, though a very brief one. The top was just a narrow bib in the front and nothing in the back, and the skirt was super short, with only thong panties underneath. The stockings were fishnet and there were also shoes with two inch stiletto heels. Rich had Carl raise the front of that miniskirt to reveal that the miniscule panties were still accommodating enough, because Carl's penis was so compressed by the tube. "You know," Rich said tauntingly, "that was the smallest chastity I could find. It must be really awful having your cock squeezed so tightly and not able to get hard. And your balls are probably aching by now. Right?" Carl pressed his elbows against his sides and said meekly, "Yes, Sir. They're very sore. If I could just..." "No, no." Rich held up a warning finger. "You don't ask for anything. In fact you won't speak at all unless spoken to. Plus, when you do answer me, curtsey each time. In fact, let's see you do that now. Ready?" "Yes, Sir," Carl said and did a slight dip, afraid that he would topple over because of those heels. "Not exactly right," Rich noted. "You have to hold the hem of your skirt with your thumbs and forefingers, and bend your knees more." Making a small whimper, Carl did as he was told. Rich decided that on each curtsy he should lift the skirt high enough to reveal his chastity. Carl had to repeat the action a dozen times before the man giving the orders was satisfied. "Now let's see you slip your hands in under the sides of that pretty outfit's top. That's right. And get your fingers on your nipples. Don't look so horrified, cutie. I'm only telling you to play with them, just to see how that feels for you." Blushing brightly, Carl did as he was told. He gasped at the sensations his own touch caused. Then he felt how his penis was struggling against its confines and moaned. It was pleasure and torment at the same time. Rich had him continue for a full fifteen minutes, halfway through making him lick his fingertips and apply them while still wet. By the end he was sniffling and his lips were quivering. He felt less powerful than ever, as if his mind was being taken over. He dreaded spending every evening there. But there was only one more promise after this one. Unfortunately for Carl, that week turned out to be very long. At work, aware of the feminine finery he wore under his business suits, he felt weak and ineffectual. His executive secretary, Ms. Gold, stepped in and helped him repeatedly. He became increasingly dependent on her. She often slid papers in front of him while he sat at his large desk and he signed them without reading what they said. Rich stopped into Carl's office frequently, smirking at his compromised state, and reminding him that they would be spending another night together. Back at Rich's place, Carl became more and more subservient. He minced around in his original maid's outfit, or else another much like it. By midweek Rich was sometimes playing bondage games, putting Carl's arms behind him and binding them into a single sleeve made of leather, which made him thrust out his chest. Along with the neck brace and corset, that made his posture even stiffer. When his arms were restricted, Carl had to perform his curtsies 'hands free'. Rich referred to himself as Carl's 'Master' and required the TV maid to use the term himself. Rich said, "I'm so glad you gave me the key to your apartment, Carl. I took off early -- with your permission, of course..." He laughed at the absurdity of that, because it was Carl who needed Rich's permission to do much of anything. "... and picked up some supplies. A whole case of that pricey whiskey and then several boxes of cigars from your humidor- closet. Also some of your clothes for me to wear, since you aren't using them right now." He paused to give Carl a chance to protest, but the made-over man had sunk even deeper into pliancy. "Along with all that," Rich said, relishing how he was demeaning his nominal boss, "I've decided that you need to have a new name to go along with your new look." Carl opened his mouth to speak but then thought better of it. Instead he simply made a curtsy. He wasn't in arm bondage so the action included flashing his humbling chastity and hairless crotch at Rich. "I think you should be called..." He let Carl squirm inwardly for a moment. "... Carline. Do you like that name... Carline?" Thought his mind told him to say 'no', instead Carl gave another demeaning curtsy, his corset cutting into his middle and the brace holding his head up, and responded, "Yes, Master. Thank you, Master." Rich gave him a critical look. "You spoke twice but only curtsied once. If that sort of thing happens too often, I'm going to have to punish you. Physically." Carl shivered. He was so easily intimidated and frightened now. What had happened to his former confidence and bluster. He belatedly understood that a response was expected, dipped down, exposed his shameful chastity once more, and said, "Yes, Master Rich." "Ha!" said his Master. "Nice recovery, Carline. But the possibility of getting disciplined is still on the table. So you'd better be good for the remaining ten nights that you're here." Carl was stunned. The promise had been for a week. That many more days would bring it to two weeks. His mouth moved but fear kept him from forming words. At last, as if challenging him, Rich said, "What? Didn't you agree to two weeks?" Confused and without any self confidence, Carl whispered, "Yes, Master. Two weeks." He sniffled. "Thank you for reminding me, Master." His curtsy was extra deep and the skirt stayed up longer. "Happy to do it. Now fetch me my I-pad. I have to check up some matters from the office. Ms. Gold and I have been making a few minor changes." Before Carl could think too much about that, to keep him off balance, Rich went on, "And you look ridiculous being so girly, dressing and moving and speaking the way you do, being called Carline, but not wearing any make-up. We're going to have to do something about that tomorrow after work. In fact, I won't need you at the office. So you can just stay here. I have something new for you to wear that will keep you out of trouble." Carl was dismayed to hear that he wasn't allowed to go to his office the next day, but with the threat of physical punishment hanging over his head, he remained mute. That night, instead of sleeping in his panties, he was given a baby doll nightie. It was pink and frothy and -- to his shame -- transparent. It was so humiliating to have his smooth hairless body displayed that way. Rich had him swish around the place, wagging his bottom seductively. When he finally went to bed, his Master put cuffs on his ankles, joined by a three inch chain. He had Carl fiddle with his own nipples for five minutes, to get himself into a tizzy of sexual frustration. After Rich left the room, Carl lay there with his mind tilting, trying to regain some of his fading male personality. He fell asleep without attaining that goal and had strange disturbing dreams that he couldn't recall in the morning. True to his words, after Carl was in his maid's outfit, one that provided zero covering for his backside, Rich did have something for him to wear that would keep him 'out of trouble'. It was a rod that sat on his shoulders and reached to the ends of his arms. There were manacles that went onto his wrists and a collar that fitted around his neck. He was helpless and had to do the chores he was given the best he could. All day he worked with the handle of a feather duster in his mouth, or a dust rag in the same place. He ate his lunch out of a bowl that Rich left on the kitchen floor, with another one full of water next to it, from which he lapped. The last job on the list posted on the refrigerator was to clean the toilet. When he went into the bathroom he found a brush to use lying on the toilet's lid. The handle had been replaced by a fat dildo. He got down on his knees, took hold of it in his teeth, and worked it into his mouth. It was cruelly humiliating, but he was more afraid of holding it with just his teeth, dropping it into the water, and having to retrieve it without his hands. Then he had to angle his head and raise the lid and seat with his nose. When they were up and he went to start cleaning, he discovered that the brush was so short that he had to bring his face close to the cold water to do the job right. There was just a little buildup of discoloration below the waterline, but it was enough that if he didn't do everything perfectly it would be obvious. So he had to kneel on the cold tile floor, head in the bowl, struggling to get every inch spotless, his uncovered ass on display, in that shameful maid outfit. And the chubby artificial cock stretching his lips. Along with his male ego, Carl felt his willpower further eroding. When Rich got home, chipper and grinning, he said it was time to get busy with Carline's cosmetics. First he removed the daytime bondage and allowed a few minutes for his prisoner to work any kinks out of his muscles. Next he had him remove the maid outfit and set it neatly aside. After that there were more feminine items to change into. Then he snapped his fingers and told Carl to get his hands behind his back. Rich produced a bondage harness to hold his arms, which he had to bend double, hands on opposite elbows. The Master had him sit in a chair in front of the dresser, so that he could see himself in the mirror. In just bikini-cut panties, garter belt and shiny stockings, Carl waited with the patience of a slave. Rich's cellphone buzzed and he opened it. Rich said, "Hi, Delia. I'll buzz you through the security door." Carl's eyes went wide. Delia? Did he mean Ms. Gold? Was she coming up here? Would she see him like this? It wasn't possible. But she did appear and Rich admitted her with a cheery greeting. He ushered her into the bedroom where she confronted Carl and sneered down at him. "Hello, boss," she said ironically. "Or should I say 'Carline'?" Forgetting the rules, Carl blurted out, "It's not what it looks like, Delia. You don't understand. Rich made me..." He saw that he had spoken at a wrong time and shut up. Delia smirked at him. He hadn't even used his male voice. It had been getting hard to do that, including at the office. And now he was being restricted from going there. In fact, Delia had brought more papers for him to sign, though in his current predicament he couldn't even do that. Rich said they would get to it later. Carl told him, "Yes, Master." Unable to curtsy, he bobbed his head and hoped that would be enough. Delia had an overnight bag which turned out to be well supplied with cosmetics and hair products, along with combs and brushes. She went to work on Carl's face and hair, fussing here and there, touching him lightly on the shoulder, as if they were just two girls. With horror, Carl watched his reflection and saw himself being transformed. It was the strongest statement yet about how his masculinity was being erased. He would be so glad in a few days... or rather, more days than he had anticipated... when this was all over. By the time Delia was finished Carl was peering at a stranger, a fully feminine face expertly decorated with just a bit too much of everything. His hair, though it was still short, appeared fuller and had been swept up in the front and now stayed that way. He was ordered up off the chair and made to strut around for Delia's amusement. She stopped him, fingered his garter belt and stroked the front of his panties, toying with his chastity and making his cock respond futilely . She went and sat in the living room while Rich removed the arm binder. Carl stood there feeling defeated and impotent. He had to change into his most shameful maid's outfit, complete with heels, to serve his Master and -- he now understood -- Mistress. As he brought them glasses of wine, a fine vintage from his own collection, they chatted about the business and how well Carline was coming along. Then Rich put on a sad face. He told Delia, "What Carline did when you got here, talking without permission like that, was inexcusable. I have to apologize for the girl. She's turning into a real bubblehead. But she's been warned and now I'm going to have to punish her. It might not be pretty to see. But it's happening because of how she disrespected you. So, if you'd like, you may watch." "Well, I'm sure it will hurt me more than it does her, but I think that's what I should do. It might help her to see me while it's happening." "Thanks, Delia. I'm certain she'll be grateful." He stood up and told Carl, "Now slip out of those panties, sweet cheeks. I'm going to need your buns bare for what comes next." Carl felt like sobbing, he was so upset. Why couldn't he summon up some of his old machismo? But it seemed to have gradually evaporated. And they were referring to him as if he actually was female. That made him feel even less like a man. Having Delia there... earning a punishment... not going to work... He was descending into a bottomless pit of femininity and vulnerability. In the living room Rich took a wooden chair and sat on it. He and Delia watched avidly as Carl reached under his inadequate skirt and removed his panties. Rich made a point to praise him for that, which required Carl to thank him, and doing that meant he had to curtsy. Fearful of incurring more discipline, he dipped extra low and elevated his loose miniskirt extra high, giving Delia a generous eyeful of his utterly hairless and smooth crotch and that maddening chastity. She laughed at the sight and made herself comfortable on the couch. As she took a sip of Carl's expensive wine, Rich was signaling the man-maid to come to him. Rich patted is trouser-covered lap, letting Carl know where to put himself. And those were Carl's trousers. It was one more reminder of their altered status in relation to each other. Rich and Delia were running the office. All they needed Carl for was that ongoing series of signatures he blindly provided. Carl draped himself over Master Rich's lap and took a deep breath. Rich flipped up his skirt, what little of it there was to flip, and set his hand on Carl's bottom. The touch of Rich's palm on his smooth unmanly buttock made Carl tense up. He had never had contact like that with a male before. Rich didn't seem at all upset and not in any hurry to proceed. Delia was likewise relaxed and held her glass up under her nose to inhale the fragrance of the superior red. Carl could only stay where he was, bottom upturned and on display, and wait to accept whatever stings was delivered. Judging that Carl had finally relaxed, if only a little, Rich chose that moment to bring up his hand and swing it down hard. He felt the satisfying impact as it met his prey's pale bottom. Carl yowled in surprise and pain. Even as a vivid red handprint was forming on his receptive flesh, the second and third blows landed. There was a moment of false respite, really just meant to throw off Carl's expectations, and then another trio of smacks landed in rapid succession. Rich spread them around enough that the area was nicely colored, but also did enough overlapping to maximize the discomfort. He kept swinging until Carl was kicking his legs and one of his shoes flew off. But Rich had his other hand firmly on the small of Carl's back to steady him. It went on until Carl was shedding tears, bawling like a well punished schoolgirl. Delia took it all in with a gloating grin on her pretty features. At last it was over and Carl had to go and stand in the corner with his back to the room. Both his cheeks were mottled bright red. He kept sobbing and his shoulders shook. Rich looked over and Delia and they exchanged nods of victory. About ten minutes later, with the seated couple quite refreshed and the spanked TV's bottom still blazing, Delia opened a copious outside pocket on her bag and produced a legal document. She took it to Rich's desk and laid it there. He went to Carl to put his hand on the spanked one's shoulder and give it a solid squeeze. Then he turned him around and walked him to the desk, where he had to sit on his sore bare bottom. A rubber doormat covered with long nibs had been put on the seat. It didn't add much to the pain, but certainly made the spanked one more aware of it. Carl's vision was streaked by tears as he barely glanced down at the papers. Delia came over to hand him a pen. Rich kindly but authoritatively advised him to initial all the pages except the last, which he was to sign. In the habit by then of putting his name on whatever was placed before him, Carl affixed his initials and then his full signature where indicated. The two standing figures shared satisfied nods. Carl didn't go back to work then. He spent the entire second week in Rich's place. During the day he wore one of his maid uniforms. He was always in some sort of bondage, hands partly incapacitated by fingerless mittens, ankles hobbled, sometimes gagged. One day his head was encased in a rubber mask that gave him exaggerated feminine features: wide eyes, pert upturned nose, high cheekbones, puckered lips, narrow chin. There was a wig that could have gone with it, a mass of spilling golden curls, but Rich left it on its wig stand, in plain sight. Carl found himself longing to have the wig on his head, though he didn't know why. It just seemed more natural for him to carry the illusion of femaleness as far as he could. He gazed at it through the eyeholes of his mask many times during the long hours while he was alone, between the many chores he had been left to do. It was a relief when that week was nearly ended. Rich came home and released him from his daytime bondage. He gave Carl a set of diaphanous harem pajamas to change into, which the forced TV did with something akin to eagerness. It couldn't honestly be that he wanted to wear them, he assured himself. He couldn't have been taken so far in such a relatively short time. When this was over he would go right back to being his normal self. Wouldn't he? That night, after Rich had a light dinner and gave Carl the leftovers along with some other scraps in a dog bowl on the kitchen floor, it was time to learn the nature of the third promise. Carl hoped it wouldn't be a bad one. He secretly wished that it might involve some wildly pretty things for him to wear, though he felt shame about that and insisted to himself that those thoughts were just a temporary aberration. Rich sat on the couch and put his feet up on an ottoman. He had Carl remove his shoes and socks, then rub his feet. "I think you'll like this last promise, Carline," Rich announced with a sly gleam in his eye. "You were always quite the womanizer. Granted, the ladies never got as much out of your relationships as you did. In fact, many of them did rather poorly. I've heard you were selfish and demanding in bed. And cheap, despite your wealth. But that's all in the past." He paused as if to give Carl a moment to understand some subtext to what he had just said. When the kneeling TV didn't appear to register anything beyond the obvious meaning of the words, Rich went on, "So what I'm doing is putting you into the company of a sexy woman. You'll be going to live with Delia. It will be for the same length of time you spent here. Three weeks." Carl was uncertain. Hadn't his time here originally been one week, that somehow grown into two? And even if it had actually been two, why was Rich saying that he had stayed where he was for three weeks? Fifty percent longer. But he was too unsure of himself, and too afraid of speaking out of turn, to seriously think of defending his thoughts. Instead he continued massaging and looked at Rich with the attitude he had been told to adopt. What was the word Rich had used? It was... timid? And exactly how long ago had that been? It was hard to think clearly. The chastity was having such a persuasive, mind-altering effect on him. "Yes, Master," Carl murmured, his voice barely audible. Not able to curtsy while on his knees, he again bowed his head, held it there for a few seconds, and raised it. Rich rewarded him with a hint of a smile. Carl added, "Thank you, Master Rich." The weeks at Delia's were eventful. Carl's wardrobe was expanded. He was instructed to add additional feminine gestures to his growing repertoire. There were limp wrists and fluttering hands, fingers pressed to cheeks or tugging on strands of his lengthening hair. He found himself giggling for no reason. At the same time, she often kept him in limited forms of bondage. During the day there were the familiar incapacitations, along with a number of new variations. At night she had a preference for arrangements of belts and straps that held him bent over, his torso parallel with the floor. This made it easy for her to mount him like a horse and ride him around her spacious apartment. At those times she would wear just a leather vest and matching chaps, along with high riding boots, and carry a crop. She took deep pleasure in marking his bottom, leaving consciously applied patterns of stripes. Sometimes after one of her rides she would leave him doubled over like that, stand behind him, and swat his sitter with a sorority paddle until the geometric patterns were almost hidden by a general reddening of his skin. Rich liked to come and visit, usually bringing something from Carl's apartment. On occasion the unwilling TV had to be told that something Rich was wearing or drinking or smoking had previously belonged to Carl. He was always surprised by these pieces of news, and at what an airhead he was becoming. His attention shifted more and more to pleasing his owners, as he now thought of them, by being as girly and obedient as he could. It certainly was going to be strange going back to running his own life and business. Near the end of his stay with Delia she presented him with a long thick rubber dildo, like the one Rich had used in those early photo sessions. How long ago had they been? Was this the same rubber cock? Carl couldn't be sure. She made him lick the cock and then suck it. Soon she had him learning to swallow it and ultimately he was proud that he could take it down his throat all the way to its plum-sized rubber balls. It felt somehow right to have the artificial testicles resting against his chin. He especially liked it when she made him do deep- throat it while she produced an extended monologue about him being trashy and slutty and whorish. And had him wearing appropriate clothes. All things must come to an end, which is what happened to his four weeks with Delia. He had a dim recollection that it was supposed to have been three weeks, maybe less, but that wasn't important to him. He was trying to get his thoughts into order about going back to the company he owned. There was a big desk that made him feel important and lots of attractive secretaries who tended to desperately need their jobs (he hired that type) and couldn't risk complaining when he pawed their bottoms. It would be terrific to get back. Especially once the chastity device was unlocked and removed. The day finally came. He was bewildered when Rich told him he would be going in a blouse and skirt. And make-up. With his hair styled by Delia. Well, he would just change at the end of the day, when he got back to his magnificent apartment. He could pass it all off as a joke. Or say he had lost a bet, which was actually true. But by his second day back everything would be normal. Anybody who didn't like it would get fired. He would have to decide if that would also include Rich and Delia. Maybe he'd have some fun putting them into an uncomfortable position like they had done to him. Rich picked him up a Delia's and drove him to work. In the executive lot Rich took Carl's spot. The boss hurried into the building, not wanting to be seen. He was proficient at walking on high heels. Once inside he was annoyed to find that everyone had expected his reappearance and they knew he was called Carline. He tried to laugh off their undisguisedly insulting remarks. It was as if everyone disliked him and welcomed this opportunity to mock his temporary fix. The familiar surroundings brought him back more to himself. He was still acting way too feminine, but he was able to cast off those curious feelings of... well... liking it. Now he felt mortified to be seen in a dress, sashaying between the cubicles while patting his hair and -- unintentionally he was certain -- licking his lips suggestively at the men. Inside his office he was further irritated to have Rich take his seat, letting him sit opposite from it, on the wrong side of the desk. Ms. Gold entered with a thick folder of papers. Rich put on a blatantly false smile, one tinged with maliciousness. He said, "Well, Carline, it's great to have you working for me." "What?" Carl wanted to know, wishing he could drop the register of his voice and increase the volume. "I don't understand." "Those papers you kept signing while you were with us," the man behind the desk explained, "put the company into my name." "That's... not possible," he retorted in an uncertain whisper. "It wouldn't have been. But there are so many people here and elsewhere who despise you, so many who owed you payback, including your lawyer and financial manager, that it actually was doable. Several of your competitors were pleased to help us, after the underhanded way you dealt with them in the past. And we've all worked together to create such a legal tangle that, even if by some miracle you made a start toward regaining your position, property, and wealth, it would still be nearly impossible and take you at least a decade." ""But," he squeaked, hating the way he talked, "if I tried real hard and did good stuff and talked nice and..." His words trailed off. Where was his usual command of the language? How could he do anything if he spoke like some mindless bimbo? "No," Rich assured him in a tone of mock consolation. "It's hopeless. You have no resources. I own your apartment, cars, and this company. Your bank accounts are closed, the money now in my name, along with generous payouts to Ms. Gold and others who helped. You don't have any cash, credit cards, or even a ring of keys. In fact, I've taken away your name. You are now legally Carline. Oh, and your middle name is Sugar." Delia smiled lopsidedly and put in, "That was my idea, sweetie." "Now why don't you follow Ms. Gold to her office and she'll begin instructing you on your new duties as a receptionist." "B... but, everyone will see me," he said breathily. "Every day. I'll be a laughingstock." "Yes, I guarantee that. The staff can't wait to really get into ridiculing you. And that janitor, Mr. Bluto, has some sort of longstanding personal grievance." Carl felt numb as he was led away by the gorgeous Delia. She told him, "Don't get your panties all in a bunch, sister. You're in this for the long haul." "I don't... I can't... I mean, where will I live?" "That's the best part of all. Just wait until you find out." After work Rich led Carl back through the parking garage, making sure the attendant got a gander at him. It turned out that even that lowly person knew who it really was behind those cosmetics. Then Rich drove Carl through the city and to a familiar, resplendent, exclusive apartment building. He walked him inside, took him up the elevator, and steered him directly to his own apartment. Or what used to be his. "You still don't see the surprise ending that's coming to this story," Rich commented. "I... I'm having trouble... it's all so..." As Rich closed the door behind them he grabbed Carl's bottom, which had grown bigger and softer after more than a month as a TV, and groped it openly. "Now let's get you into your maid's outfit. There's a big backlog of housework for you to catch up on. Among other things." Carl didn't understand. It was like he had become a birdbrain. He mechanically got changed, more aware than ever after his brief period of false hope and denial, of how low he had been brought. They had turned him into a weak emasculated non-man and non-woman. And now what was going to happen? Something was dimly making itself known to him, but his problems with understanding, thinking like the dullest and most ditzy secretary he had ever coerced onto her knees or into bed, were not abating. He showed Rich how he looked all dressed up and made up, having learned at Delia's to do his own make-up, though required to overdo it. Carl was having more of those pleasurable reactions to be girly. Rich had changed into a satin dressing gown and imported slippers. He was pleased at his maid's look and said so. Carl felt a thrill at that comment. Rich took Carline, for that was now the former Carl's name in practice, as it was in law, and had him kneel in front of the familiar leather recliner. When Rich spread his knees the robe slid aside to reveal his firm legs, the normal male pubic hair on his crotch, and his generously long and thick member. Suddenly all Carline's feminization, along with the dildo training from Delia, and general loss of a sense of masculinity, came together. Carline realized that she (as we might as well refer to her) was absolutely dependent on Rich. She was smooth and unmuscular, spoke and acted girlishly, and was penniless. Strange wants and needs asserted themselves. So much time in chastity added even more complications to her mental state. Her head went down and she found herself kissing the insides of Rich's manly thighs, licking her way forward. He was already responding, which made Carline think about how inaccessible her own manhood had been rendered. Her testicles throbbed. She sighed as her mouth reached its target and she began to do what she had been trained for. Rich sighed too. The training had succeeded admirably. A week later, as she did every morning, Carline made sure everything was ready for her man so he could get to work on time. Today she was buffing his new pricey shoes, smiling up at him, licking her lips in the hope that he would need more than just to feel up her bottom or run his hands over her silky skin, which was improving evenmore thanks to imported emollients. Instead of giving her what she wanted, Rich delivered a message. "I have a new housekeeper starting today. She will be in charge and you will follow every order she gives. Her name is Cheyenne." He saw the question in Carline's eyes -- which was the only way the girl got to ask questions now -- and answered, "Yes, she's Black. With some native American added in. High cheekbones, full lips, chocolate brown skin. You'll love her. Picked her out myself." Then, pretending he'd just remembered something, Rich said, "Oh, wait. You never liked Black women. Really put you off. And even gave you the shudders. Sorry about that. If she doesn't work out I'll get someone else. In a year or two." "Thank you, Master." "Don't mention it. My pleasure. Now let's get you into bondage. When Cheyenne gets here she'll decide whether or not to let you out of it. I told her that either way is fine. Might be entertaining to see you do your work with your hands behind your back and the feather duster in your teeth. She'll tell me all about it when I get home. And don't mess up or I'll have to punish you. Strap you onto the padded bench and do some teasing, just to make sure your chastity is still doing its job, and then pick a few of my toys to use disciplining your naughty bottom. But I'd rather not do that, Carline. I'd rather we play honeymoon. I love how aroused you get when we're in bed together, how eager you are to give me pleasure, and how disappointed you are afterwards that there's no enjoyable way for you to dump your spunk. But hey, at least you get plenty of mine." His devilish smile made her think of all the things that had gotten her to where she was now, a prisoner in what used to be her own home. Rich mused, "What do you think? The rubber straightjacket? The bondage dress? Or the straps that double up your arms and legs, so you can only walk around on your elbows and knees? So many good choices." "Whatever you like, Master. I know you wanted to try that new corset. I've gotten so soft now that it should push the flesh of my chest up into nice..." She tittered. "... nice looking little boobs." What had she just said? It was like there were two of her, with the more submissive and girly one taking over more all the time. Carline nearly swooned. She was trapped. And now she would spend her days under the control of this Cheyenne. And nights with the man who had remade her identity and life. She shuddered as Rich went to the cupboard to select her bondage for the morning. ********* (And there you have it. Special thanks for inspiration to C.C., whose stories are so terrific. Check out one of his titled JUST WAIT.)