The Reluctant Maid free porn video

THE RELUCTANT MAID Patricia Goodwin was in a foul mood. In spite of not being quite thirty, she owned and ran several very successful businesses including real estate rented out, that she had inherited from her father, and she was on top of her game except for that fateful afternoon. First her husband of seven years Len , had phoned her at noon to say that the company he worked for had been put into administration. It was going bust. Then her car had started to play up as she was going back to the office after a business lunch, but as she was nearer home she'd gone there and called the garage to come and collect it, if they couldn't fix the problem at the roadside. "The damn thing's only four months old," she'd complained to the garage owner, "have you sold me a lemon?" They had assured her that they hadn't and it would be back with her that night or a loaned replacement if it took longer. They would see to it that she wasn't without a car and on that promise, within ten minutes they collected her misbehaving car. As well as that she'd gone to check her e-mails on her laptop and it decided that it didn't want to know her home modem today, so refused to connect her to the internet. In desperation she'd gone into her husband's room, his 'man-cave' as he called it, and used his old desk top PC to try to catch up on what she wanted. That was when she noticed an odd site in the history, called Fictionmania.tv. As the mail she was waiting for hadn't appeared yet, she sent a further request off to the supplier reminding him of the urgency and demanding them to send the information she needed. They promised a reply within thirty minutes, so while she sat there impatient at the delay, she thought she would have a look at the unknown site, but first she saw that a short story was in the process of being sent from this computer. The details of the story were there, the title; 'The Reluctant Maid' and the author was 'Sammy the Sissy', who was marked as being a previous author of other stories. She quickly browsed 'my documents' and sure enough there was the Reluctant Maid story already written and ready to be posted. She returned to the site and clicked onto the author's name and found twelve short stories by Sammy the Sissy already posted, just a quick glance shocked her. These were all stories of female domination, mainly wives turning their husbands into maids and treating them more like slaves. She found it hard to believe that her husband would even read stories like that, let alone write them. At that moment the e-mail she had waited for arrived, so she mailed a link to the site to her laptop, together with some others in the history list, and got the business done that she needed to. She dealt with everything she could, spoke to her secretary to make sure there were no other problems, closed down the PC and pored herself a drink while she waited for her husband to come home from his office. Initially she was just going to challenge him about the stories, but decided to find out more details before she mentioned it. In any case he was full of woes over the loss of his job, so tonight was not the night to broach a subject as complex as that no doubt was. Not long after the garage delivered her car back, assuring her that it was a simple problem that they easily fixed, a very despondent Leonard arrived home. "They just wanted a couple of people to work on with the Liquidators for a few weeks, my colleagues needed the money more than me so I told them that I'd pack in and leave them to it," he told her. "So you're officially out of work right now Len?" "That's right Pat, I don't suppose you have anything I could do?" He looked so sad that her heart went out to him. "Nothing that springs to mind," she told him, "anyway we discussed that when we got married. Neither of us like the idea of working together and besides you're only twenty seven and well qualified, you shouldn't have a problem finding a new job." "Don't be so sure of that, I had a ring around this afternoon, all the major employers, employment agencies and friends, to see if they were looking for anyone or even if they heard of anything but drew a blank everywhere in this area." "Well as you say, at least money isn't a problem for us so there's no worry if it takes a while. Perhaps you can experiment with some new dishes to cook, that would be a hobby for you that we'll both benefit from." Pat gave it some more thought, then added: "Paula has been looking to reduce the hours she works so perhaps you can take over some of her duties." Paula Stewart was their cleaner who came in three days a week to clean and do their laundry. She was also currently looking after her son Nick, staying with her when he lost his job and expecting his Mum to be his cook and cleaner even at twenty two years old. She didn't mind and he had hoped that employment prospects would be better here than in Wales where he lived. To his surprise he had just been offered work with another business that he had previously applied to, in his home town, so was now moving back. The next morning Paula came to work at her normal time of eight thirty, something she did to get any special instructions for the day from Pat. Her boss asked her if she still wanted to cut down the number of days she worked. "Actually Mrs Goodwin, my boy Nick has asked if I want to go and live with him in Wales but I wouldn't want to leave you stuck for someone to take over from me." Pat thought for a minute. Was this really happening? "Could you show my husband what you do and when, Paula? He is going to be at a loose end for a few weeks so once you've done that he could take over until we can find someone else." She called Len to come downstairs and they outlined the plan that they were forming, asking his opinion. "I don't see a problem providing we can find someone in a reasonable time, I can't really go seriously job hunting while I'm committed as a househusband." He laughed at the thought. 'He always was helpful,' Pat thought to herself, 'perhaps it's a symptom of his submissive nature. If that's the case I can make him really happy and solve the house keeping problem at the same time.' As Len learned Paula's routine, Pat spent several days reading his stories and researching the other sites he'd visited, getting the name and address of a local kinky sex shop where she could get all sorts of the type of things he had described and most importantly a discrete contact. Every one of his posts included the husband being given breast implants. At first she couldn't see how that was possible, but thanks to the shop proprietor she then had the means to make this happen. At that point she had to decided if she wanted to go ahead with all this from her point of view, but it wasn't long before she was honest enough with herself to admit that the whole idea of being a dominatrix was a huge turn on for her. With copious quantities of cash it was arranged for the start of the last week before Paula moved. On the Monday she sent Len on an errand to an address just out of town where he was given a hospitable coffee while he waited for whatever he was supposed to collect was made ready. He was soon asleep. His unconscious mind was unaware of the various processes he passed through. Laser depilation of his body and facial beard, and his face stained with a semi-permanent make up. The implantation of 'DD' size breast implants and his crotch flattened by means of both adhesive and stitching his testicles into his body under his penis which was attached back up to his perineum and wrapped in his empty scrotum. A small clamp was placed on his vocal cords to raise the pitch of his voice nearly two octaves and finally they gave him a hormone and testosterone blocker injections together with the same again but versions giving out a slow release. While all this was going on, she'd had the small box bedroom redecorated in a suitable manner for a very feminine maid and a wardrobe, chest of drawers and vanity unit all fully packed with clothes and cosmetics for the same. At the appointed time on the Friday evening, two large men carried him back into his house, up to his new room and helped Pat dress him in one of his new uniforms. One of the men locked a wide, thick leather collar round his neck and gave her a remote control. "They're often a bit uppity when they first get back," he told her, "this will help keep him in line. There's a menu button you can use to get to know the various functions and it will give you advice on how to use it. Basically all you have to do is press a button and it lets him know who's in charge." The men left and she sat in the room with him for a while just looking at him. He was wearing a pink French maid's costume, fluffed out from his waist by a mass of white lace and net petticoats so that she could see his g-string. His pink stockings showed off surprisingly shapely legs and feet locked into matching shoes with five inch heels. Most of his stories involved heels an inch taller, but she felt that he would need a while to get used to these before he graduated, then the thought occurred to her that he probably had walked in heels many times before without her knowledge. Still it was probably better to err on the side on safety. She studied his face, impeccably made up in cosmetics that should last six months between touch ups, his blood red lips perfectly matching his long false finger nails. With his complexion he made a good looking woman and she idly wondered if he used creams of any sort without her knowing. His straw coloured hair was now curly and platinum blonde. She felt a great passion for him and now she could show it in a way he would love and they could both enjoy the dominant side of her character that, until she read his stories, she didn't know she had. For his first weekend as his dream woman she was determined she would get things absolutely right and to make sure they had no interruptions, she left her mobile turned off, disconnected their land line phone and locked the office with the computer. He started to stir. "Bonsoir Louise." She spoke quietly but firmly. Louise opened his eyes and looked around in confusion. "What hap..." He coughed, thinking his voice was odd. "What's wrong with my voice?" "Nothing's wrong with your voice Louise, it's entirely suitable for a maid." He struggled to sit up, looked down at his costume and more especially at his creamy breasts trying to escape over the top. "What the hell's happened? Why am I dressed like this?" "All that's happened is you've woken up in your dream, dressed suitably for my maidservant, Louise." "Pat, why are you calling me Louise?" He spoke with emphasis that someone would, talking to a child or someone a bit slow on the uptake. "Because that's your name you silly girl, now get up and get my dinner ready." Pat stood up and walked out of the room to go down the stairs. Louise stood for a second, his ankle gave way and he fell back onto the bed. "Oow!" He yelped in pain, realising that he had ridiculous shoes on his feet. He bent down and tried to take them off. "Don't go away!" He called after his wife. "Is this some sort of sick joke? Help me get these things off my feet, I can't walk in these." She walked back to the doorway. "Of course you can walk in them, don't lie to me and tell me you've never had high heels on your feet before." She was starting to get impatient. "You're talking rubbish woman, and why can't I breathe?" He touched his breast and realised it was real. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" He shouted at her. She remembered what the man had said about them getting uppity and pressed the button on the remote. He screamed, a sound that shocked her, then he fell off the bed, landing heavily on the floor clutching frantically at the collar. "You call me Mistress and you don't speak to me without permission. Have you got that?" He held out his hand but she made no attempt to help him so he just lay on the floor trying to get his breath. "Why?" His voice was barely a whisper so she decided to let that go for once and answer him. "I read the stories you posted on Fictionmania and decided that I could live like that, if that is what you want and the next time you speak without permission you know what will happen." "What stories?" He demanded then screamed and writhed on the floor a second time. "I'm not playing any more games," she displayed the impatience she felt "get downstairs and cook my dinner." She walked away and down the stairs while he was still trying to recover from the combination of a burning pain in his neck, lack of breath and an inability to get to his feet. Eventually he crawled to the top of the stairs, turned round and made his way down on hands and knees, deciding that it was the only safe way in his state. At the bottom he gingerly stood, then holding himself against a wall, made his way to the kitchen. He caught a glimpse of his wife in the sitting room reading papers and drinking, presumably a gin and tonic. In the kitchen he saw a note to say that she wanted a griddled steak and salad, with a shop bought desert from the fridge. He put the griddle pan on, cut some onions and garlic, then prepared the salad while it heated. Once it was cooked it took all his concentration to carry it into the dining room and set it on the table with the cutlery then entered the sitting room. "Permission to speak?" He asked. "Is my dinner ready?" "Yes, it's on the table." She waived the remote and he had a look of terror on his face, cringing, waiting for the jolt. "Yes, it's on the table MISTRESS, and curtsey when you speak to me." She mimicked his voice and scowled at him but didn't hurt him again. She walked into the dining room and he hobbled behind while she told him to open a bottle of Bordeaux, pour some water, then stand out of her sight in case she needed something else. He didn't know how he could stand there, especially as his ankle was hurting so badly from where he twisted it, he also realise that his neck was very sore from the collar. As well as that, the pain of the corset crushing his ribs and pressing down on his hip bones, right on some nerves, caused him to start sobbing. Pat turned round and saw the tears falling down his cheeks. "Oh for God's sake get back to the kitchen, I can't stand crocodile tears." He hobbled painfully to the kitchen, tried to sit on a chair and while that relieved the pain on his feet and ankles, the pressure on his waist was excruciating. He scrabbled under his petticoats to try to find a way to get to the corset when he felt his crotch. For the first time he realised that there was nothing there. He fainted. As he started to come round, for a moment forgetting where he was, he heard his wife shouting at him to get up but as he had bent his ankle again in the fall, he could barely move so she became impatient and kicked him. "Get up you clumsy girl, look at these things you've broken. Bring me a brandy into the sitting room then clear up this mess." He realised that he must have pulled a plate and the salad bowl off the side as he fell as there was broken crockery all over the floor. She thought that he had just been clumsy and either fumbled of tripped, dropping the things on the floor. She hadn't even realised that he'd passed out and she didn't see the blood from cuts on his arm caused when he fell on the broken bits. It took him two hours and his wife had long gone to bed, by the time he'd finished clearing up. He'd tried again to get permission to speak, but she had refused it, just giving him instructions for her breakfast in bed the next morning and told him he would have to keep his shoes and corset on overnight. He was in pain, depressed and thoroughly miserable, but decided that he would see if he could get to the bottom of it all in the morning. The only positive he discovered was that he still had his penis, wrapped up in his scrotum but didn't know if he still had his testicles. The next morning, once he got over the surprise of still having impeccable make up, he took his wife her breakfast in bed, curtseyed and asked permission to speak. "What is it?" Pat was not a morning person. "I'm sorry but I don't know anything about the web site you mentioned, can you tell me what it's about?" She picked up the remote that he hadn't noticed was on her bedside cabinet and pressed the button. As he collapsed screaming again she shouted at him. "I will not stand you lying to me! I've seen the proof with my own eyes so I don't ever want you to try to deny it again or you'll get this thing turned on for five minutes. You wanted a dominant wife so now you've got one and I've no intention of letting you weasel your way out of it." He didn't hear all the details of what she said, but he got the message loud and clear that he couldn't raise the question of why he was being treated this way. He burst into tears again both from pain and frustration. He couldn't understand why he was so tearful rather than angry, but of course wasn't aware of the effect the female hormones and lack of testosterone were already having on him. For the first time she pressed the menu button and an option appeared 'sound operated', she tapped on a question mark alongside. It explained that if opted for, any sound of the subject speaking that was picked up by the monitor in the collar would activate it. She took the option, telling herself that she must look at some of the others sometime. "Louise, I am fed up with your moaning. I've set it now so that if you speak at all it will activate your collar without me doing anything, so you'd better shut up." Horrified, he silently had to refill her coffee once, then clear her breakfast things away and help her bathe then dress. After that he was set to work cleaning the house, starting with vacuuming the sitting and dining rooms, at first terrified that the noise of the cleaner would set off his collar. At twelve he had to break off polishing the dining table and chairs to prepare a lunch for her. "This evening I am entertaining friends Louise, so you will spend the afternoon making petit fours enough for about fifteen guests, include some more substantial sandwiches and pastries, I don't want anyone to go hungry." She ignored to expression of horror on Louise's face. "Yes, that's right girl, this is going to be your coming out party." With tears again flowing down his face, he set to work on the large amount of food that would be required, noting that their big refrigerator and freezers were well stocked with both food ingredients and Champagne. At least keeping himself busy meant that he wasn't dwelling on what had happened but unfortunately had an impending dread of what the evening would bring. After a couple of hours he started to think of what he could do to get out of the situation and came up with an idea. It might be of course, that he wouldn't know the guests attending, but if he did he realised that he could write a note and slip it to them. He sat down and wrote on a piece of paper : Please help me I'm trapped and can't speak or escape. Please call the police to rescue me. Signing it Leonard Goodwin. He tucked the note behind bottles in the fridge then set out the dining room table with the various food dishes he had prepared. By the time he had laid up an extra four large trays with more food in reserve, Pat arrived in the kitchen and told him to go back up to his bedroom and strip off as many clothes as he was able. She explained that she would join him shortly. He was only able to undo his dress to remove it, he couldn't see to release the laces on his corset and of course, his shoes were locked on. His wife helped him strip completely except for his collar and he was able to take a bath, after which she placed a lilac coloured corset round him, tightening it even further than the pink one. His new maid's uniform was just the same as the previous but in lilac, with matching stockings, shoes and silly little beribboned cap. Once they were locked onto his ankles he realised that those heels were an inch higher than the pink ones and he had no idea whether he would be able to walk in them. In absolute desperation he got down on his knees in front of her, placed his hands together in praying position and shook his head violently from side to side indicating 'No'. She laughed at him. "You look so cute the way you're thanking me." She was still laughing as she led him back down the stairs, especially when she saw how he was struggling in his six inch high heels. She oversaw him set up a small table next to the front door laid with glasses and Champagne bottles in an ice cooler then she told him to bring her a glass into the sitting room, where she waited for her guests. He decided on just one desperate measure to try to get her to change her mind even at this late stage. "Please stop this!" He only managed to get those three words out before he was struck down by the collar again. "You do enjoy being hurt don't you?" She rhetorically asked. "I see that I'll have to find my riding crop if you enjoy it that much." He was too stunned to react. He could only lie on the floor crying and he still had tears rolling down his cheeks when the first of the guests arrived. The first groups to knock on their door were people he only vaguely knew worked for his wife and then a couple of her clients. As instructed he curtseyed to each of them and gave them a glass of the prestigious sparkling wine. Then two couples arrived that were their neighbours each side, but they showed no sign of recognition when they took their drinks from him. Some more arrived, mutual friends and more of Pat's colleagues, then to his horror three of his own friends turned up, again not recognising him. One of them, Jim Askey who was not only a friend but someone he'd worked with for years, did look at him a bit strangely, and it was then that it occurred to Louise that he could give him his note. He was a big man, a year or two older than him and quite athletic in build, not one who he thought would be intimidated by his wife if the note was somehow discovered. Once they all started to need refills Pat announced that their were nibbles in the dining room, if everyone would like to help themselves, and to give the maid their drink orders. Of about eighteen guests eight were men and they were soon being encouraged by their hostess to take full advantage of the maid. They needed no second bidding and by the time the drinks had been flowing a while, his backside was sore from all the pinches and slaps he got. By secreting his note under a food refill tray, he managed to palm it successfully off to Jim. He noted that Jim read it and nodded to him to show that he understood. It was then that Pat called for everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, and I use that last term generously," they all gave an alcoholic fuelled laugh "I've asked you all here tonight to welcome a new person to our neighbourhood, living here in fact. I refer of course to my lovely maid Louise. Of course some of you may have noticed a striking resemblance between her and my ex-husband. Yes he has begged me to allow him to explore his feminine side and that is what he is doing. I'm sure you agree that he makes a far better looking woman than he ever did a man and in the next few days he will become even more of a woman than he is already. I know he is embarrassed at being outed so publicly, but I decided that it was better to get it over and done with. I'm afraid that he can't speak tonight because he wanted to have a higher pitch to his voice and he can't use it for a few days, so you can all ask me any questions you have and I will do my best to answer them on his behalf." There were a couple of looks of disgust, but most of those present wished them both good luck and there were several comments about how brave both him and his wife were. The evening drifted on, the only consolation for Louise was that now fewer men were touching him. The guests left in couples or small groups, and eventually only him, his wife and Jim Askey were left. "Of course I'm not surprised." Jim told Pat while Louise was out of ear shot, starting to clear the debris from the dining room. "He's often said about things he's heard about men being cuckolded." "What do you mean?" Asked Pat, astounded. "Yes he often said to me that he wondered what it would be like, knowing your wife was with another man. Between you and me, I think he has masochistic tendencies and the idea turned him on." She wouldn't have believed him a few weeks ago, but since discovering his stories and his apparent need to hurt himself that night, she was now able to believe anything about her husband. She was also finding the close proximity of this ruggedly handsome man was raising her already high libido. The way she had dominated Louise for the last twenty four hours had made her wet several times and up to now she could think of no way of getting satisfaction. With her natural inhibitions thus reduced she found herself vulnerable to Jim's moves. "You know I've always found you an incredibly beautiful woman, Pat." Jim told her. He placed a finger under her chin, turned her face and kissed her. She responded immediately, opening her mouth, inviting his tongue to explore. He needed no second hint and was soon massaging her breasts and back. In less than five minutes they were mounting the stairs. "Louise!" She shouted. "Two more glasses of Champagne in my bedroom straight away." Louise, still only just starting on the clean up, had his heart lifted. Two glasses meant that he would share with her and if this nightmare wasn't over, at least it might mean a chance to explain that it wasn't what he wanted. Still having some difficulty walking, but at least managing the high heels now, he hurried up the stairs, not bothering to put the glasses on a tray. By the time he entered her bedroom the couple were already naked and about to fulfil their desires. "No!" Louise screamed, dropped the glasses and collapsed with the pain of the collar. Pat jumped from the bed, found her riding crop in her wardrobe and started to hit him with it. "This is what you wanted!" She yelled at him. "Get to your room and stay there." He crawled out of the door while trying to ward off the blows, got to his bed and laid on it listening to the sounds of lovemaking coming from his wife's bedroom. He didn't know how long he stayed awake, he only slept very fitfully the whole night, which was the longest of his life. It was punctuated occasionally by renewed bedroom antics from his so-called friend and his wife. As the last time was after it was light, he went downstairs to cut out the noise and got himself a coffee. Looking at the mess still there from the night before, he knew he would be in trouble for not clearing it up but he was past caring. For the first time in his life he wanted to hurt someone. It had never been his nature but something had snapped. He didn't notice the time going by until at nine o'clock Pat called down that they wanted their breakfasts in bed. He prepared their normal fried English breakfast for them both, placed them on the largest tray they had, but before taking them up he poured two large coffees into thermal insulated mugs with caps and placed them in the microwave oven until they were boiling. As quickly as his heels allowed him he carried the tray into the bedroom to see them both lying naked on the bed, sweat glistening on their bodies. He quickly placed the tray down, picked up the mugs and threw the contents onto each of their stomachs, the scalding coffee also landing on their genitals. Chaos ensued. Both of them screaming with pain and at him. Pat ran into the shower and turned on the cold water, Jim was rather slower but eventually joined her. Louise was delighted to note a blister on Jim's penis and knew that he wouldn't be having his wife again, at least for a couple of days. Louise knew before he did it, that he would be punished very painfully, but just didn't care. He was right though. He had left them to it and returned to the kitchen where the enraged couple found him. Jim had availed himself of a handful of Pat's tights and dragged him to the dining room. There he tied his ankles to the legs at the top of the table, pulled him by tying his wrists and securing them to the legs at the other end. Prone as he was over the edge of the table he was defenceless against the crop that Jim then started to weald against his backside. Of course his dress and crinolines did nothing to protect him, likewise his g-string. Not satisfied, Jim also released his stockings at the back, so that not even the suspenders offered the minimal protection. Pat joined in by repeatedly firing the remote to activate his collar. Neither of them noticed when he passed out or that the batteries on the collar were flattened. They continued to visit the dining room during the course of the day, attempting to renew his pain. Jim left in the late afternoon, but not before they had carried him up to his room and dumped him, bleeding badly, on his bed. He wasn't aware of the passing night or the morning when his wife left for work in the morning. She decided that the best thing to do was to ignore him until she could find a suitable long term punishment but she still hadn't realised that the collar was no longer working. When she got to her office she remembered the menu on the remote that she had placed in her handbag. She scrolled through options and under 'S' and after 'sound operated' found a heading for 'strength' and looked up the information to see how she could increase it. Under the query heading for it there was a warning: It is important that the strength of shock is limited to a maximum of the '5' setting. Any higher should only be used in a very limited way and only if the subject is known to have no heart defects. Normally a setting of '3' is as much as any subject can stand. She found the strength level indicator, hoping to turn it up to five. It was an awful shock to her when she found that it was set on ten. It was on the maximum already. It was then that she realised what had driven Louise to throw the coffee over them. At that moment her telephone rang and her secretary told her that it was a private call for her. "Hello Mrs Goodwin, it's Paula Stewart here, ... yes I've settled in well thank you. It's just that my boy has just.... He took something and I think I ought to apologise, you see... I think I told you years ago that I caught him in some girl's undies, do you remember? I asked your opinion as to what I should do about it? Well he's been keeping me company for a few weeks when I've cleaned for you. I'm terribly sorry but I've found out that he took a pair of your panties as a souvenir, I know you won't want them back, but could I at least send you the money for them? I'm so terribly embarrassed by it." "Mrs Stewart, Paula," Pat was stammering, still upset at how she could have killed Louise and she wasn't in the mood to discuss other people's problems. "Don't worry about it." "There's something else I'm afraid." Paula was sounding even more cagey. "I didn't know it, but he's confessed to me that he used your husband's computer, I'm sure he hasn't done any damage to it, I think he knows his way round them, but if it's not working properly, you'll have to let me know." "Did he say what he did with the computer Paula?" She was full of foreboding. "Oh he said it was nothing much, he just used it to send off several stories he'd written. I don't think it was anything important." She put the phone down. "Nooo!...Nooo!" She started hyperventilating. * * * At home Louise was in a daze. He didn't know what was real and what was a nightmare. He couldn't think, his mind was filled with his nervous system giving messages of pain. He was a woman and the woman he thought was his wife was his Mistress and hated him. He must be a woman, a man didn't have Louise as a name. He'd been a man, he was sure of that, but the pain was so bad he couldn't think. Pain, why was he in pain? He couldn't stand on his feet. He groaned, then realised that he shouldn't have, but there wasn't any additional pain, just a very mild tingle on his neck He tried making another noise. No pain. Something wasn't right. He crawled down the stairs again, he'd remembered how to do it in his horrible heels, so it was a small triumph. Must telephone for a doctor. Couldn't remember the number, couldn't find it on the phone memory. Then he saw written on a label on the phone: In emergency dial 999 It didn't take long for help to arrive, he was able to crawl to the door to unlock it then he waited on the floor nearby. The ambulance men were very kind, they said he was a woman so it must be that he was. They kept asking him questions that he didn't know the answer to. Then his Mistress arrived. She was upset and he was afraid that it was his fault and she was going to hurt him again. He begged her not to. She started crying and a policeman took her away. * * * It was four days before things started to make sense to Len. He now knew that he wasn't a woman or called Louise, he did have breasts but the doctors said he was complete as a man down there but tucked away. They were giving him something to counteract the hormones he'd been given. "Mr Goodwin," a police inspector had asked him "have you ever posted anything on a web site called Fictionmania?" "I'm pretty certain I haven't, but the name rings a bell from something my wife said to me. I'd never heard of it until then." The inspector returned the next day and gave him a shortened version of the mistake his wife had made and her subsequent actions. "I'm sorry to have to tell you but I'm afraid that your wife has been detained under the Mental Health Act for her own safety. She was released on police bail, pending the outcome of our enquiries and she drove her car at a brick wall doing over ninety miles an hour. She hit it, but didn't know that her new car was fitted with proximity technology that puts the brakes on automatically, so it mitigated the impact and although both car and wall were written off, she wasn't badly hurt even though she'd disabled the air bag." Len's hand went up to try scratching an itch on his neck but it was too heavily bandaged. Lying on his side his bum itched as well. He tried to think whether he loved or hated her. He thought it was the latter but confused because he felt upset that she tried to kill herself, it was one more puzzling thing that he had to think long and hard about. "We've given your solicitor her address if you want him to serve any legal papers on her. Do you know what you're going to do?" "The doctors say that as soon as I'm strong enough they'll remove these implants, sort me out down below, but they don't know yet if they can restore my voice." "No, I meant about your wife." "I can't make up my mind about her yet. For the moment, as her husband I can keep an eye on her businesses if she's as incapacitated as you say." At last someone had told him something that he was able to assimilate and make a rational, normal decision over. The next day he was discharged pending his re-admittance for the operations later, for the moment he wanted to think carefully about the various problems and among other things, find out if anything was pressing at her office. The first thing he had to do was to find some decent clothes to wear. His male clothes were out of the question, his bust was too big and he still had perfect make up on his face. The hospital provided enough to cover himself and once home, he found things that would fit well enough in Pat's wardrobe for him to wear shopping for his own clothes. When he went to his wife's office, her secretary recognised him from the drinks party and she had been pre-warned what had happened by the police. There were a couple of outstanding matters which he dealt with, then went on to the psychiatric hospital to visit his wife. He couldn't stay with her to talk. As soon as she saw him she started shaking and screaming about what had she done and begging him to forgive her over and over. She had to be given a sedative injection and taken back to her room. It did make him realise that she did what she had in good faith, making his thoughts of her being punished even more complicated. He decided not to press charges against her and told the police that when they next contacted him. In the weeks that followed he came to realise two things. He was enjoying the feeling of feminine clothes, even though the maid's costumes were associated in his mind with such bad memories, normal dresses and skirts were very different. Instead of having the implants removed when he had his testicles released, he had them reduced to give him a 'B' cup, enabling him to continue in dresses whenever he wanted. Also, over time Len found that his voice deepened a little to become quite androgynous. The second was that he needed a long time to consider what to do about his marriage. After three months of being institutionalised, his wife was allowed home. Her personality had changed to such an extent that she no longer wanted to return to work. Len's father-in-law had called in to the office from time to time and satisfied himself that everything was running smoothly in his daughter's absence and told Len as much. "I can't face anyone Len," she told him "could you continue running things for the foreseeable future? I'm happier if I could just look after the house and stay at home, that way I feel I can make the smallest start of making amends to you." She became an extremely compliant housewife, eager to carry out his smallest wish. As the weeks went on he understood the depth of the guilt she carried and slowly came to realise that he did still love her, even though he didn't let it show for a long time. He eventually had a long talk with her to tell her that she was forgiven but the subject of her actions with Jim Askey still prayed on her mind. When she told him what Jim had said about his friend wanting to be cuckolded, just to get her into bed, he decided to have his revenge. Unable to punch the man on the jaw and get away with it, or take legal action against him, Len had a friend hack into Jim's computer and write a 'fun story' of how he had ignored Len's cry for help and then lied to seduce Pat. He then appeared to send this 'good laugh' to everyone in his address book. It wasn't long before Jim had very few friends and even those few wouldn't trust him. The best part of that episode he only heard about more than a year later. Apparently Jim hadn't done anything about the injury he received that morning in bed with Pat, and it had turned septic. By the time he was forced to go to the doctor's it was too late and he had to have part of his penis removed to stop the infection spreading. As Len told Pat, double crossing his friend certainly clipped his wings. As for Len and Pat's marriage, they both eventually got back to normal relations. Pat loved having a girlfriend to go shopping with occasionally, although she was never ever anything but a dutiful wife at home.