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NEW FRIENDS Hugh Brown was relaxing in his reclining chair with the gin and tonic by his side reading the evening paper while his wife prepared their evening meal. She didn't work, just did the housewife thing, even though she wasn't keen on it. It wasn't that Hugh didn't help Irene. He took over the cooking at weekends and wasn't averse to doing a little cleaning or laundry, it was just that she did it as her duty during the week as he was the one earning. He had suggested they get a cleaner in to help her, but she told him she would feel she was abrogating her responsibilities if they did that. Hugh had started his business before they knew each other and he had taken Irene on when he needed someone to help with the office work, relieving him to get on with the jobs in hand. They hit it off straight away and started to date, leading to their engagement. Hugh was delighted when she accepted his proposal, he wasn't exactly the all male hunk, standing only five feet five inches and weedy with it, but she was a shy person, in spite of being quite well built, so he assumed that she wasn't the sort to go for a party loving he-man. As the work expanded, so he took on more employees, eventually getting to the stage where the profitability meant the she no longer needed to work and they married. At first this was a joy to Irene, who didn't feel comfortable mixing with many people, but she soon discovered that hiding from the world also had disadvantages. Knowing of his wife's shyness, Hugh's attention was caught by an article in the paper. It was covering the opening of the 'Centre for the Advancement of Women', especially dealing with those who lacked the confidence to push themselves in the world of commerce. They even were going to hold courses on self defence. He called his wife and handed her the paper to see. "Why don't you go along dear?" he asked. "At the very least you may make some new friends." Having established that she would at least think about it, the subject was dropped in favour of where they would shop the next day and if his wife fancied a slow cooked honey roast duck for Sunday dinner. He thought no more of it for several months. For Irene's birthday he wanted to get her something different. It was on a Saturday night so he booked a room in the best hotel in the city, about an hour's drive away, and got tickets for their very exclusive dinner and dance. Knowing that she would need to wear something really special, he ordered a beautiful pale lilac strapless evening dress and aware that she wouldn't posses a bra suitable for it, he also ordered a basque, stockings and a pair of four inch spike heeled, patent leather strappy shoes to complete the ensemble. He was taken aback at her response to the presents when she unwrapped them on the morning of her birthday. "Is this all you think I am?" she demanded. "A trophy to decorate your arm to be paraded round a room?" "Of course not my love," he defended something he didn't think needed defending "I just thought you would like something new to go in, to the dance tonight." "You ought to know that I wouldn't want to go anywhere near these streetwalker type underclothes, they're what a tart would wear." "Darling they aren't, they're very expensive and exclusive, I'm sure you would love them, even feel very sexy wearing them." "If that's the case, then you wear them!" She lost her temper for the very first time since he had known her. With that she left the house and he didn't see her for the rest of the day. At seven in the evening she telephoned him to say that she wasn't mad any more but she just wanted to think things over and in any case she'd had too much to drink and drive, so she was going to stay where she was, at her friend Jenny's house for the night. She finished the conversation amicably enough, telling him to go off to his golf in the morning and she would see him when he got home. He knew of Jenny, although he hadn't met her, she was someone Irene had got to know since she had been at home all day. He knew from how she spoke that she'd got to know quite a lot of new friends, although she never really explained what she did with them and he didn't like to pry. If she wanted him to know, he thought, she would tell him. He missed her overnight but was certain that he would be able to make up for his, in her eyes, poor choice of present. The next morning he left the house at nine as usual, driving off to his club for his weekly round of golf. He habitually had a drink in the bar afterwards, getting home about one, when they had a light lunch before he got on with cooking the roast they normally had for Sunday dinner. Upon arrival home that day, Irene was waiting for him and suggested he had a shower before lunch, to rid himself of the sweat he had worked up on the course. She accompanied him to their bathroom and gave him a gel to rub all over himself before showering. The fact that she helped him lent him to believe that the previous day's trouble was over and forgotten, especially when she kept him talking before he showered. He thought nothing of it when she removed the clothes he had been wearing from where he had discarded them. It wasn't until the shower was running that he noticed something wrong. All his hair was falling from his body and leaving him as bare as a baby. He quickly finished and as soon as he was dry he went out into their bedroom to see Irene standing there smiling. "What the hell was that stuff?" he asked. "It was hair remover dear, I want you all nice and smooth." She giggled. "Sit down here." He sat in the offered chair, mystified. Then Irene spread a sticky substance over both sides of his chest round the area of his nipples. "What are you doing?" He was starting to get worried. "It's a surprise, you'll see," was all she would say. Her next move made her intention obvious. She pressed a very life- like imitation breast to one side, holding it in place. He started to struggle away from her, but she grabbed him by the testicles. "You will stop trying to fight me or I'll have your balls with my roast dinner tonight." She wasn't smiling now. "Don't, you're hurting me," he complained. "Stay still and you won't get hurt." He stopped trying to impede her. It wasn't long before she had both breasts attached to his chest. She stood him up and stooped down in front of him, fiddling with his privates, at first making him think that it was all some sort of bedroom game she was playing. That was until he felt cold metal against him, he jumped away. Swiftly she grabbed his arm and twisted it round and up his back until it hurt him quite badly. "Are you going to stand still or do I have to beat you into submission?" Now there was a nasty tone to her voice, something he'd never heard before. He reluctantly agreed to her demand and watched as she locked a metal chastity device onto his penis and round his testicles. He realised that it wasn't coming off without a key unless he lost something very precious to him. She gave him a small pink satin g-string to put on. "What's this all about Irene?" he asked. "You wanted a trophy on your arm last night, well I'm going to show you what it feels like to be treated like an object, now put that on, we have a long way to go." He slipped the string up his legs while she wrapped a pink corset round his rather skinny body, doing up the fasteners at the front, it went from below his hips to half cups that supported his new breasts. That done she gave him the silk stockings that he'd bought for her to wear and told him to put them on. He knew from years of seeing his mother wear them to roll them up and feed them up his legs. She corrected his first move, telling him to pass the corset suspenders under his string before attaching them, to facilitate toilet requirements. Next she handed him the shoes he had bought for her, to strap to his feet, they both knew he took the same size as her. Then she stood him up and started to tighten the corset laces at the back. She started at the top, working down to the middle, then from the bottom up, then repeated the exercise. When he could hardly breathe she kept going for two more rounds before she tied the laces off, by which time he was close to passing out. He found it difficult to believe that something that looked so delicate and feminine could inflict such crushing pain. It was so great that he had forgotten about his heels and toppled over onto the bed when he tried to walk. He got no sympathy, just a slap on the face when she told him to stand up. "Don't be so careless," she told him. "Those are only short heels for you to practice with until you start using your proper ones." He was sure she must be joking, but doubts were creeping in. She stood there holding what he thought was a lilac satin skirt with multiple, built in pink net and lace petticoats, but when he stepped into it he found that it was actually a strapless dress. It only just covered his breasts and had a skirt so short it was indecent even without the petticoats that held it out almost horizontally. "Come and sit down over here and I will do your make up," he was ordered. "Oh come on Irene, this has gone far enough," he said it with a smile on his face, hoping that she would keep the whole thing friendly although he was worried that it was already too late for that. She went to her bedside cupboard and pulled out a long piece of wood with holes drilled in it. "I think you need to join in the real world as it is now," she told him. "You are going to be my trophy, a maid called Betty, I've told your manager Michelle that you're going to have a change in lifestyle and that I am going take over the business for a while. Now, do you know what this is?" She held up the piece of wood, he indicated that he had no idea. "This is called a paddle and I'm going to show you how it works." She grabbed his arm and had him over her lap before he could do anything about it and the next thing he knew his backside was on fire. He screamed. She landed a whole succession of blows, each building on the pain of the previous one. He started to cry and plead with her to stop which she did, but not before twelve strokes. He fell in a heap on the floor from her lap, tears rolling down his face. "How could you do that?" he sobbed. "That is just a taste of what you'll get if you don't obey me instantly. Any hesitation on your part and you will get double that, do you understand?" He nodded. "The new regime is that I am the leader in this relationship and I will make all the decisions. For a start you will call me Mistress and any visitors, I repeat, any visitors to this house are Madam or Sir to you. "Now go and wipe your face with a cold flannel and come back here." He did as he was told and had to sit while his wife put make up on him, one step ant a time, wiped it off then had him do it himself. She plucked his eyebrows almost out of existence and finished by gluing false nails on his fingers, each extending at least half an inch beyond his natural ones. His lips and nails all sported a brilliant red colour that could be seen from a mile off. He had always kept his hair long and it didn't take much skill on Irene's part to cut and style it in a feminine bob with a straight fringe across his forehead. A decorative piece of material, the same lilac as the dress and surrounded by pink lace was pinned on his head and the final touch was a pink hostess pinafore tied round his waist by an extravagant bow. "Now let me see you curtsey." When she said this he nearly fell over with the shock. Since when in this day and age would one human being, outside ceremonies perhaps, need to debase themselves in that way? He thought, but he didn't dare say anything and did his best at how he thought it was done. "No. No," she told him and showed him how to do it. She had him repeat it for nearly fifteen minutes before she was content with his performance. His feet would have been in unbearable pain if it wasn't for his body aching so much from the corset. "Now I have a few things I need you to remember Betty." He looked into his wife's face and didn't recognise the person he could see. "Your bedroom is the small box room and except when alone in the house, that and the kitchen are the only rooms that you will enter without knocking and waiting for permission. Entering and leaving a room you will curtsey to the occupants, that is your thank you for allowing your presence. When you are given an instruction you will curtsey to say you understand. You will serve food in the dining room and unless it is essential for you return to the kitchen, you will stand against the wall, heels together, hands clasped in front of you, looking out for anyone you need to assist. You will never speak without permission. If you need to ask something you stand heels together, hands clasped but looking at the floor. You will only eat after you have finished service and anyone else in the house has eaten and only so long as you have no other duties. Is all that clear Betty?" He couldn't understand where she had formulated these ideas, they were so unlike anything she had expressed before. He mumbled and nodded his head. He wasn't prepared for what happened next. A hammer blow in the form of Irene's fist arrived in his solar plexus, on top of not being able to breath because of the corset, it felled him to the floor and left him gasping for air. He hadn't recovered when she kicked him in the same place. It was several minutes before he recovered and struggled to his feet. "Now I'll ask you again," she said, "is all that clear?" He had to think back quickly and just curtseyed. "Good, now I know you've got a good size joint of beef for dinner, so you will just have to prepare additional vegetables and sauce. I'm entertaining four friends to dinner, so lay up and prepare food and drink accordingly. I want four courses including cheese, is that clear?" He curtseyed, turned to leave the room but turned and curtseyed once more before he left. She almost climaxed as she saw the power she had over him, she had a happy smile on her face as she let her hand press gently between her thighs. "Ooohh!" she gasped, she had never felt like this, she was so powerful and she meant for him to know it. From his point of view, all he was interested in doing was escaping from a wife who seemed to have gone absolutely mad. For the present however, he had to somehow present a four course meal by seven and it was already gone three. The straight roast wasn't a problem, it was the starter and dessert that he had to give a thought to. He quickly went through the fridge and freezer looking for what he could do for six people in that time. No, make that five, there was no way he was going to be eating more that a few bits today, he knew he would be sick. He found most of a side of salmon in the freezer, enough for five steaks, he had plenty of salad so that was the starter, he would grill those with peppercorns and capers and serve them with a salad and vinaigrette. It all turned out easier than he thought when he found a box of cr?me brulees, shop bought, but they would do. He could jazz them up by placing a few raspberries on the top of each then melting some sugar and spin cages on a tablespoon to place over each one. It wasn't as difficult as it looked, but was impressive. That all decided, he started the preparations including laying the dining table and raiding his cellar for wines, he opened one bottle of pinot grigio and poured himself a glass to drink as he worked, he felt in dire need. He also turned his attention as to what he was going to do. One thing for sure, Irene couldn't keep him from contacting the outside world either by phone or going out. If she was going into the office the next day, all he had to do was to get changed, phone his lawyer and get the hell out of her reach. He considered contacting the police, but he just knew that she had some sort of psychological problem and it was help she needed, not arrest. He still felt that the woman he loved was in there somewhere, it was just a case of getting her back from wherever she had gone. At six thirty the front door bell rang and he was sent to answer it. Four women that he didn't know came in and, mindful of his instructions he curtseyed to each as he took their coats. He waited as they each kissed Irene, congratulating her on her maid, then he opened two bottles of Champagne as he was instructed, poured five glasses, then left to go back to the kitchen. At seven he knocked on the living room door, was told to enter, curtseyed, then stood with his eyes downcast. After a few minutes Irene asked him if dinner was ready to which he replied "Yes Mistress." He returned to the kitchen, placed the warm salmon slices on each salad and took the plates in on their largest silver tray. He knew how food should be served, so there was no problem doing it, likewise he offered a taste of the wine to his wife at the head of the table, before pouring the guests theirs. He waited while they ate, topping up one woman's water glass and everyone's wine from the second bottle. After that he cleared the plates, returned to the kitchen and blessed the Hostess Trolley for keeping the main course hot. He was able to wheel that into the serving area and dispense those plates while they were still hot. Likewise with the wine, he offered it for tasting, then poured the red. This he was kept busy with and they were on the fourth bottle by the time they had finished the mains. The brulees he could treat as the starter, all the plates fitted on the large tray, and, to his amazement they drank two bottles of the very sweet Sauternes wine with it. Two more bottles, this time his port were consumed with the cheese board but by this time their comments were getting loud and the jokes dirty enough to make a sailor blush. He was especially concerned about Irene, she never could hold her drink and although she had imbibed at a slower rate that the others he could see the signs of her losing control. Things didn't improve when they retired to the living room and started on the coffee liqueurs. He was told to stay and top people up as required, so for the first time he was able to find out what was behind all this. The women were all members of the CAWs, the Centre for the Advancement of Women. It meant nothing to him at first, then he remembered the article in the paper months ago and his suggestion that his wife join. This was all his own fault, but how was he to know they were a bunch of raving loonies? It was soon apparent that the women were two couples, Jenny, who he had heard of, was with Sandy and the other two, Gerry and Sheena were the other couple. He had not the slightest problem with their private lives, but why did they think they could punish all the men they came across? That seemed to be their intention. "Do you know why you're now a maid Betty?" a drunken Gerry asked him. "Because my wife is stronger physically than me, Madam," he answered with a curtsey. "You mean she's better than you?" she persisted. "No Madam, we are all of equal value on this earth, but the stronger ones bully those that cannot or will not fight back." He curtseyed again, hoping the message came across but not too strongly. "Are you arguing with me?" She was getting annoyed. "No Madam, I've always respected the opinions of others whoever they are and whatever opinions they hold." "I think it's about time 'Rene here demonstrated that little gadget that our mate Jen brought over." Jenny led the way to his study where, fixed on the wall was a box, next to the house security control panel. "Oh, is this it? How does it work?" she asked. "It's not too complicated, as you know it's paired with his chastity." Jenny started to point to buttons and dials on the box and handed her a key on a longish chain. "Put this key safely round your neck, now do you see this dial. It's marked 'Keeper' and 'Striker', if you go out of the house you turn the key in this hole, then you can set it to 'Keeper' so that he has to stay in range or it goes off. When you get home, turn the dial to 'Striker' and you can use it when you want, just by pressing here. That dial determines the strength." "Go on, try it out," called out Sandy. Irene looked up at him with a wicked smile on her face. When she pressed down she didn't know what to expect, but the result had her jumping up and down with glee. He was screaming and rolling around on the floor of the small room clutching at his groin. All the women laughed and, following Gerry's example they started to clap, Irene, not Betty. "Well done!" "Great!" And ominously from Sandy, "Do it again!" All the women were shouting at once. If they had thought about it they wouldn't have been out of place watching Christians being torn apart by lions in ancient Rome. But they weren't thinking, they were enjoying. Betty wasn't in a fit state to think of anything. "That was only on number one," remarked Irene. "Shall I turn it up?" At hearing a chorus of 'yes' she spun the dial to ten and pressed again. Betty had only just got to one of his knees when the shock hit him and although Irene had only just touched the button then released it, it spun him into the air as his legs kicked out and by the time he hit the floor again he was unconscious, peeing and emitting an undignified fart. "Oh dear," remarked Jenny, "he does seem to have a low pain threshold." They were all aware that she was a qualified nurse and especially so when she examined him, turned him on his back and started to thump his chest. It was easily two or three minutes before he was breathing again. None of the women considered that Irene had technically killed her husband and she was completely oblivious to the fact. The only benefit the episode had was that once the show was over, it made their minds up that it was time to call an end to the night. By the time Betty regained consciousness they had all left and it was just Irene there, slapping his face. "Come on you filthy piece of work, come and get me ready for bed." He looked up into her eyes with a resigned sadness. "Why?" he asked, risking further punishment. "Because I can," was all she replied and turned her back on him to go to bed. He followed her to the bedroom and as she used her en suite, he opened his wardrobe with the idea of quickly taking enough clothes to escape. It was then that he got yet another blow. His clothes were gone. He checked in one of his drawers with the same result, closing it as she reappeared. "What are you looking for?" she demanded. "Sorry, Mistress, my clothes." He hung his head. "All your clothes are moved to your bedroom, you don't expect the maid to share the Mistress's closet, do you?" "No Mistress." He decided she wanted another curtsey but didn't oblige. "I expect you thought that my husband's clothes were in there, didn't you? Well my husband has gone so I got rid of them all, you only have your uniforms because that is all you need." She told him to undress her and while he did that she went into a drunken rant about how men had walked all over women since forever and now it was time for them to fight back. It was like a mad preacher, the way she was coming out with what seemed like clich?d phrases. "Tomorrow you are going to come with me into your office to tell the staff that I am taking over running things and that you have decided to be my maid. Tell them how much you love your pretty uniforms and how much you regret hurting women in the past. Perhaps it will be a lesson to them all to be more respectful in the future." As she got into bed he stood back with his head bowed, not daring to say what he wanted without permission. "What is it?" she impatiently asked him. "Apart from my one mistake, buying you what I thought was an exclusive and tasteful outfit, can you tell me one more thing I've done to deserve this, Mistress?" "Don't you think that wanting me as some sort of trophy isn't enough? You men are all the same, expecting the little wife at home to serve you like a slave then putting us on display like meat in a butcher's shop. Why do you do it?" "Because, Mistress, I love you, but you obviously don't love me now, if you ever did." He was wasting his breath, she had passed out and was asleep. He needed to go back downstairs to clear up all the debris from the dinner, but first went to his new room to clean himself up. He quickly saw that his wardrobe consisted of two more uniforms in black and another in pink, all designed in the same way. There were three pairs of shoes on the closet, one of each colour, black, pink and lilac, but each of them had heels that must have been six inches high and the ankle strap of each had a small key hole in the cover of the clasp. He was sure that they would be locked on his feet when she wanted, because he remembered what she said about starting him on the lower heels. After he cleaned himself up, he thought about what she had told him and realised that he had to do something to stop his trip out in that ridiculous uniform. There was only one thing for it. He knew he would be punished, but he felt that death was better than the constant pain and humiliation of the next day and every day after. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that she would have to pretend that he was doing this voluntarily, so the answer might be to sabotage that impression. If he did what he intended there would be no going back. He would be hurt badly, but he was sure that would happen anyway. He went to her sewing room and it wasn't long before he found what he was looking for, a pair of her dressmaking shears. They were actually an oversize pair of scissors and very sharp. He crept back into her bedroom where she was now lightly snoring and proceeded to start cutting up her clothes. He quickly found that two cuts, from the bottom to the top of each garment soon made each one unwearable whether they were skirt or trouser based style. It took him a long time but didn't forget the dirty clothes hamper. Then he went down to the laundry room and did the same to anything there waiting to be washed. When that was done he returned to his bedroom and took off the uniform he was wearing and cut that, and the others of the ilk, into shreds. He also cut up all his female underwear, including cutting the laces on the corset he was wearing. After that he tried to remove the breasts from his chest. He couldn't find a way to budge them, so carefully he attacked them with the shears. He removed most of them, a chunk at a time, just leaving some uneven debris still stuck to his skin. He tried to pull the artificial nails off, but they were stuck too well, so he cut off the ends and then scoured the varnished surface, removing most of the colour and leaving them visibly badly damaged. He examined the shoes and decided that he was never going to wear them. The ankle straps of each one had some sort of metal reinforcement running through them and wouldn't yield to the shears. He got round that problem by cutting the strap across the toes which was just a good quality leather. He had one more task to do. It was important but even so he didn't like to do it. He didn't have a landline in the house and presumably Irene had thrown his mobile with his clothes, but he returned to her bedroom and recovered her mobile from her handbag. He dialled his office number and of course got the answer phone. He quickly gave a potted history of what had happened, who had done what to him and what he had done. He told the story right up to the cutting of the clothes and that he expected severe retribution, probably from all the women. He finished by saying that the whole matter should be treated with the strictest confidence unless he didn't turn up for work on Tuesday, then the story should be told to the police and their legal advisors. He blessed the day he decided to have extra capacity for clients to be able to lay out their problems if no one was there. He carefully wiped the memory on her phone and replaced it in her bag. By this time he was physically exhausted but mentally still buzzing. He decided that it was now too late to think of bed so he put on a nightdress that Irene had hung in his room for him and went to the kitchen to make coffee. He had a sudden inspiration. He knew he would be either beaten or electrocuted, either way it would be painful, so he dosed himself up with the best anaesthetic known to man, half a bottle of scotch. After a long while he heard his wife calling. For a moment he hoped she was using his proper name, but as he approached the bedroom he realised that it was Betty she wanted. When he walked in she demanded to know why he wasn't dressed and where was her coffee. "Mistress, you can always torture me into doing something every time, but you will never break me. I will fight you in my own way so long as I have breath. I no longer wish to be your husband, I am going to get a divorce, you obviously don't love me." "Love you!" she exclaimed. "Love you! Why would a woman love her menial servant. That's all you are, you can't get a divorce, a servant can't get a divorce from his Mistress. Now go and get my coffee while I bathe and decide what punishment you're going to get." As he left she shouted after him. "And get dressed, you're coming to the office with me this morning. Get me some aspirin at the same time." He took his time finding the tablets she wanted and when he returned to her she was already coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped round her. "Why aren't you dressed Betty?" she demanded. "I'm sorry, Mistress, I have nothing else to wear." He didn't curtsey. "Don't be ridiculous, wear one of your black uniforms today." "I'm sorry Mistress, I'm afraid they have been destroyed, I cut them up." "What! Let me see." She rushed out of her bedroom and practically ran down the hallway to his room. When she saw the damage he had done she screamed at him. "You think you're getting out of coming to the office with me? Come with me." She dragged him by the hand back to her room. "Take off that nightdress, you'll just have to wear my clothes until we can fit you up with replacements and, Oh boy, are you going to suffer for cutting up your clothes." Then she screamed again. She saw that all her clothes hung in shreds from their rails, turned to him and realised he no longer had breasts. "You evil man!" She screamed and went to her cupboard to get her paddle. It wasn't there. She didn't know it, but it was presently residing among the flowers where it was as far as he could throw it down the garden the previous night. She turned and started punching and slapping him and no matter how he tried to protect himself, her blows landed thick and fast. She pulled her phone out of her bag and fast dialled a number. "It's me, you won't believe what my maid has done." She went on to describe how neither of them had anything to wear and how he had removed his breasts. She told him to go to his room and stay there, which he was only too pleased to do. Fifteen minutes passed, he sat there, frightened now, as to what was going to happen to him but not regretting what he had done. Eventually the door opened and Jenny entered the room. He went to stand up, but she pushed him back down and hit him with something in the side of his neck. By the time everything went dark he realised that it must have been a hypodermic syringe. When he woke he felt terrible. His head ached and his mouth was the bottom of a bird cage. As he tried to move he realised that he was strapped down on a bed that wasn't his. His chest and groin were on fire, in fact his whole torso seemed to be one big ache. A face came into his limited field of view. "Good, you're awake Betty." He recognised Jenny. "Your Mistress has told us what you did and what you told her. You're very wrong about one thing, we can definitely break you. I can tell you that we are going to break you into tiny little pieces and put you back together the way we want you. I'm pleased to be able to say that, because you have been so macho your mind is going to be completely wiped of every memory you ever had and they're going to be replaced memories that we are going to give you. You'll remember growing up as a girl, learning how to be a good servant girl and how much you are devoted to your Mistress. You will want to do everything to make her happy and you will be devastated if she is dissatisfied with you performance. Oh, by the way, you won't find it odd that you're a girl because you are. That's right, since we brought you in here you've had a full gender reassignment. You won't be cutting off this pair of breasts. Have a look." She swung a large mirror over his bed and what he saw horrified him. There, between his legs there was no sign of his masculinity, instead there was very obviously a woman and this woman, even laying down had very large and real breasts. "Why have you done this? I've always treated women with respect and my wife especially, I hung on her every word. I used to love her to distraction." He sobbed. "Irene, your Mistress, not your wife, we sent in divorce papers today listing your cross dressing as the reason for the action, needs protecting. This is just the second step, after we had enabled her see that this is only way forward for you. Goodbye Hugh and hello Betty." With that she placed a pair of headphones over his ears, turned out the light so that he was in complete darkness when she left the room and closed the door. For a while nothing happened, then a series of noises started, loud and of the sort when a person scrapes their nails across a blackboard. The pitch and the volume were such that he cried out in physical pain. It didn't help him. The noises continued while at the same time he could hear voices but couldn't make out what they were saying. In what seemed like hours the voices changed. Someone was arguing. There was a sudden bang and a door flew open flooding the room with light. A woman he didn't recognise took his headphones off and undid the straps holding him down. "Are you Hugh Brown?" she asked. "Yes, who are you? What's happening?" His brain was only slightly interested in the answers, nothing seemed real. "I'm Detective Sergeant Jill Scott, your lawyers contacted us about you but I'm afraid it looks as if we're here too late." "They were going to brainwash me," he stated the fact with a dull, flat voice and was obviously was in a state of shock. Jill covered him with a dressing gown that she had found and further people came into the room. They included two paramedics who examined him briefly, then sat him in a chair on wheels and took him out of the building and into an ambulance. He wasn't really able to take in any details and just wanted everything to go away. Two days later he was finally able to have a sensible conversation with two police officers and his lawyer. He repeated the story, most of which they'd heard on the recording he'd left at his office. At first the staff had thought it was a joke and his office manager, Michelle, had telephoned his wife when he didn't come in on Monday, just asking where he was. She told Michelle that he was taken ill and wouldn't be in for some time. In the meantime, she told her, she was taking over running the business but she wouldn't be in until either late the next day or Wednesday, to take over the reigns. That afternoon the staff had a discussion and came to the conclusion that if the message was correct, Irene would have to shop before she had clothes to wear. The story then could well be true and not some sort of strange joke. They stuck to instructions and said nothing until the Tuesday morning, then telephoned the lawyer to ask his advice. After he listened to the message he got in touch with the police. This turned out to be the right thing to do as he was able to speak to a friend of his who was a high ranking officer. For that reason the police took the story seriously immediately, whereas it may have taken a lot longer if it had gone through 'channels'. He had to jump through the hoops of statement making and signing, photographs of his body taken, seeing a psychiatrist for the first of what would be many times and give formal instructions to his lawyer. As well as his wife a dozen or so CAW members had been arrested, including two surgeons and three nurses, one of whom was Jenny. One surgeon and Betty's wife were being held without bail as flight risks. An initial problem was that his wife's phone memory had been wiped by him, so it had to be sent to technicians to restore that before they had complete evidence of his wife's part in the conspiracy. They were able to recover the control box for his chastity and the opinion of the expert they called in was that he was extremely lucky to have survived the dangerous piece of equipment. For some weeks after his rescue he went through a deep depression, hardly eating and taking no interest in his business. He had always treated his staff well however, and they continued to keep things going without him, although the lawyer had to arrange that two employees could do things like signing cheques and contracts. With a great deal of help, he slowly became accepting of what had happened. His choice was quite simply either to give up on life, or to accept the changes and make the best of things. To aid the latter choice he was prescribed hormones that would suit his new body and it wasn't very long after they had kicked in that he started to think better of himself. It was a big day when 'he' became 'she' officially, with a change of name and official recognition on driving licence, National Insurance number, etc.. Hugh became Heather, so that her signature didn't change substantially with the initials being the same. At work, Michelle helped her adapt. They had two or three major shopping trips together. Her first attempt at shopping carried the very masculine attitude that he needed X, Y and Z to wear so he went out and bought them. The first time that Michelle accompanied him he learned of a different world. How to 'shop'; you didn't need to actually buy anything (although that rarely happened), it was more a journey of discovery. All the different fabrics, cuts and colours needed to be explored, tried on, and where found to her taste, purchased. Then a myriad of accessories had to then be sought out to make a 'look' complete. She started to enjoy clothes in a way she never had before. Putting on a silk dress while wearing fine denier tights and the way the two things felt together was the first time she actually thought to herself: 'Wow!'. The dates of the various trials and hearings eventually arrived. Michelle was imprisoned for eight years and he won a hundred percent of the assets of the marriage which was also ended. The two doctors that carried out the operation on him got twelve and ten years respectively and Jenny got ten as well. Heather also acquired a small fortune in damages from the those people and from the assets of CAW. Other players at CAWs got between a few months and four years. The centre was closed down and the medical professionals had to face their respected boards, which agreed with Mr Colin Brooks, the Chairman's comments that no leniency could be considered and they were all struck off for life. To celebrate the end of the legal matters, Michelle invited Heather to dinner at her house, a party was not deemed suitable under the circumstances. Michelle's brother-in-law, her husband's brother who was a widower, was staying with them while looking for a house to move to the area. Heather spent a great deal of time talking to Roy and even agreed to show him round the area that he planned to live in. As a 'thank you' afterwards he invited her to dinner which she accepted. That night Heather lay in bed in deep thought. Never, ever, in all his previous life had he been attracted to men, but she now realised she had some equipment that she was curious to find out what using it would be like. She couldn't say that she automatically fancied men, she didn't, but her attraction to women was now usually centred around what they were wearing or their hairstyle, or skills with cosmetics. The idea of imagining them in bed was something that she had forced away, even though her psychiatrist had suggested that she may still be attracted to women as a lesbian. Now she had met Roy, a really nice and interesting man, a man that she could imagine experimenting in bed with. The only thing she was thankful to the CAW was that they at least did a more than competent job of building her female genitalia. She had been assured that vaginal sex could be enjoyable for her and she had found that there were certainly pleasant feelings when she explored herself with her fingers. The following week she invited Roy to dinner and, in spite of the sudden return of bad memories as she placed his plate in front of him, they ended up relaxing so much she invited him to bed. She found the experience wonderful. He made a thoughtful lover, being very gentle with her and coaxing her feelings along to build into a succession of strong orgasms. The next morning she told Roy that she too, was going house hunting as the one she was in held too many ghosts. Three months later they jointly bought and moved into a large listed cottage with a thatched roof and roses rambling round the walls. It had plenty of rooms to allow them to entertain, which they did a great deal with their expanding number of friends. Two years after that they married and started adoption proceedings which eventually led to them taking on two orphaned sisters. Heather retained her interests in the company, but at arms' length, and gave shares to a number of the staff who had been so loyal. Michelle, who had no desire to take on children, was made Managing Director. Roy was able to add his specialised IT skills to the company assets and he joined the Board of Directors. Heather was satisfied that she had fulfilled everything she ever wanted in life, it was just from an unexpected viewpoint. She never saw or heard of, any of her torturers or her ex-wife again.