50 Shades On Jenny free porn video

50 Shades of Jenny How much impact can a terrible movie have on your life? The acting was wooden. The plot could have been written by a six-year- old. The dialogue was not believable. The lightning was bad. The music was out of an old tin can. The plot was a rip-off. And my wife, Darla, was transfixed. She watched the images on television as if was the first movie she had ever seen. She did not go to the bathroom. She did not go the refrigerator. She watched, as if she were seeing things for the first time. As a whole, the movie was a clunker. It was called "51 Shades of Pink," or something like that. Look, I didn't like the "50 Shades of Grey" trilogy itself much, but at least it was original. This was derivative and remained soft porn. Hell, it was barely in focus. It was one of those late night cable shows when nothing else is on. Handcuffs and spankings and women in cages. No wonder it was about bondage. Most of us would have had to have been bound to watch it. But Darla was focused on as if it was Citizen Kane with scenes from Casablanca and the Godfather mixed in. She sat, staring ahead. I tried to make small-talk, and she shushed me. She sat on the couch, a blanket covering her lap. The woman who starred in the movie? She didn't watch it this closely. Not that she could. On screen, she was wearing a blindfold and being spanked with a black paddle by a woman with an evil leer. In the movies, all the villains wore evil leers. At one point, the woman was on the bed, and her arms and feet were handcuffed, spread-eagle style, and the second woman was running a feather over her torso. She was talking dirty as he dominated her. The woman in charge pulled the first woman's panties down, and there, on celluloid for ever, was a tiny penis. It was a transgender girl. And Darla whimpered. She whimpered! It was a deep, guttural noise, a loud squeak. We had been married for six years, and I had never made her make that sound. It was halfway between a wolf's growl and a kitten's mew, and it was more erotic than anything in the movie. Was she touching herself? I looked, but she didn't seem to be. It was an emotional outcry, not a physical one. But, yeah, Darla was excited. There was a glaze in her eyes. There was sweat on her forehead. I almost felt intrusive watching her. "Benny," she finally said. "Get me some water. I need some water." I walked into the kitchen, amused by her reaction to a trans woman being in bondage. I put ice into a glass and poured bottled water over it. I grabbed a bag of chips and brought it to her. She nodded her thanks, staring once again at the screen. There, a woman was pouring hot candle wax onto her transgender lover. She was the once again in handcuffed -- evidently, it was an occupational hazard -- and her hands were locked above the doorway by red-trimmed cuffs. The actress pushed something tubular into her rectum, and she moaned. Moaning was a very big part of the dialogue in this movie. Darla's breathing grew more shallow, She squirmed in her seat, a sure sign that she was turned on. She bit her bottom lip./span/p p class="p1"span class="s1"She put her water on the end table. Then she grabbed me by hand and kissed it. Then she ran it under the covers and down to her wetness. She rubbed it hard against her, almost masturbating herself with my hand. "This is so good," she whispered. "Yes," I said. "It is." But I wasn't talking about the movie. I was talking about her. She reached over and picked up the remote. She put it on pause. "Fuck me," she said. "Now." * * * Bad movie or not, it was one of the keeper nights of our lives. Darla was an animal unleashed, climbing all over me, clawing, biting, pinching. She crawled up my body and she ground her vagina into my face the way a bear scratches against a tree. This was not two people having sex; this was one person having her way with another one. This was wild and needy and primal. Frankly, it hurt. I've never complained about physical pain from making love. But except for my cock, and my tongue, I was a bystander. Darla, my sweet, demur Darla, a was insatiable. She was on fire, and there were was no dousing her. Have you ever been overwhelmed? Conquered? It was like that. Darla was all over me. I couldn't think. I couldn't breath. She sucked my neck. She slipped her fingers into my ass. She traced. her fingers across my chest. It was glorious. When we woke up the next morning, she was wearing my boxers. I was nude. I moved gingerly as I got out of bed. I was bruised and cut. My back was stiff. "Hey, baby," she said, grinning slyly. "You ok? Did I hurt you? "I think my back is broken," I said. "Not to mention the General." She giggled. "That movie got to me, Benny. I don't know what it was, but I've never been that I stretched. I felt like I had been in a car accident. "You were great, sweetheart," I said. "I was like having sex with a T- Rex." She tittered. "Was it so bad?" "God, no," I said. "I just had no control. I was a leaf in the wind. You took over. It was like a tender moment with the Hell's Angels. I think we're all going steady." "Nah, the Hell's Angels would have butt-fucked you," she said. "I didn't get around to that ... yet." Yet?"No thanks, Brutus," I said. "My butt is an off-ramp, not an on- ramp. But as I recall, you found a wet place for the General. Thanks for not biting him off." "Silly," she said. "A girl turns loose on you, and you whine like a little bitch. Maybe you do need a good spanking." "Can spankings be good?" I asked. "Oh, yeah," she said, her eyes going soft focus again. "Oh, yeah,, they can be." "You really got into that movie, huh?" I said. "Did you imagine yourself to be dominated like the little transexual?" "No, baby," she said. "I imagined I was the one doing the dominating. I imagined you were the trans. I would have dressed you up, but we were kind of busy." I looked at her. I shook my head. It was a different side of my sweet little pumpkin. "Baby, it was like I was in the damn movie," Darla said. "I could feel the cuffs on my wrists. I could feel the blindfold on my eyes. I wanted to be tied up and taken. I wanted to tie you up and take you. I wanted to put lipstick on. your and lick it off. I was that hot." "Should you buy you some handcuffs, Darla? Would you like that?" "God, yes," she said. "I've never been real kinky. But I'm ready to dress in leather and take a seat on your face. I'm ready to unlock the door to the unthinkable and the unimagined. I'm ready to make you my bitch, little boy. Does that scare you?" "Um, maybe a little." She laughed. "Maybe it should scare you a lot." * * * Flesh and Fantasies is on the same block as a McDonald's and a jewelry store, just as normal as a Target. It calls itself an "Erotic Boutique," but everyone in Cincinnati refers to it as the Fetish Factory. It's a nice enough store, well-lit and clean, not at all like what you might expect from a sex emporium. But inside, there is every sort of adult toy under the sun. Plugs and probes and whips and chains and satins and leathers. Cuffs and outfits and books and movies and lotions and creams. If the Marquis de Sade were alive today, he would shop at Flesh and Fantasies. Both Darla and I were a bit shy when they walked through the door, but the complete normalcy of the shop relaxed them. You might as well be buying a shirt at Dillard's as a dildo at the Factory. You might as well be buying shoes at the Foot Locker as a leather dress. People shopped without shame, loose in a toy store. Darla was in wonderland, touching this shackle, that chain, this plug. I walked a step behind, looking around as if at the zoo. I picked up a pair of edible panties. "Had lunch yet?" I asked. Darla giggled. She wrapped a feather boa -- purple -- around her neck. She touched a pair of long, leather boots. It was fascinating, a different world that they had no idea of. She stopped at a panty aisle. She fingered them, thinking about something. She looked at me, and then at the pantie. She smiled. "Hi, guys," a young brunette salesperson said. "You guys looking to liven things up? I'm Angie. As we say around here, 'What's your pleasure?"' Darla kept her voice low. "Um...I was watching this movie last night, and I wondered. Do you carry handcuffs?" "Do we?" Angie said. "We have more handcuffs than the Ohio Highway Patrol. The owner of this joint built a wing on his house because of handcuff sales. We have all sorts back here in the corner. Simple cuffs. Ankle cuffs. Cuffs attached to belts. Cuffs that lock your hands behind you. Cuffs that attach to the wall or the ceiling or the floor. You say the word, and we can turn your bedroom into a dungeon overnight." "I'd love to look and see what you have," she said. They approached the handcuff exhibit. Darla picked up a set with a feathered interior. It had dog-collar spikes on the outside. She saw an ankle shackle and asked about it. "That keeps your partner immobile," she said. "You can attach it to a kitchen table, for instance. He'll have some movement, so he can get to the fridge. But he's a dog in the yard. He isn't going anywhere serious." "What are these?" I said. "Those are finger cuffs," Angie said. You can lock someone up, or he can have his arms around someone else, and you can lock them both up. They're small. So you can smuggle them into a bar or a movie and immobilize him or her there. I saw a guy wearing a pair at Starbucks the other day. It was a hoot as he drank his coffee with two hands." Darla found a pair that left someone spread eagle on the bed, like in the movie. She wanted them. She bought a blindfold, again because she had seen it in the movie. "What else do you have that restrains someone?" Darla asked. She looked at me. I couldn't speak. "Well, we have lots of things," Angie was saying. "Collars and leashes. Masks. We have clothing that locks. If your guy is a sissy -- she looked at Benny -- then you can buy locking heels and a locking maid's dress. Maybe a princess dress. An evening gown. Just about anything you want. We're very big with cross-dressers. Then Angie came to a display case. She looked at Darla. "Oh, and we have these. If you're into restraint, you HAVE to get one of these. A lot of customers love these." There was a display case, and a lot of long, metal phallic items with locks on them. They were small, so they didn't look that threatening. But they were. "What are those?" Darla asked. "Those are male chastity belts," Angie said. "They're called cock cages. They keep a guy locked away ... down there. Our customers swear by them. They let the woman control the orgasm. They guy waits, and anticipates, and in the end both of them have great sex. You see. This ring goes there, and the pins push forward, and then you lock it." "Darla, that doesn't sound like fun to me ... " I said.\ "Oh, hush, sweetie" Darla said. "I think they are gorgeous. I like the part about letting things build up. What are those ones with spikes." Angie smiled. "Those, um, discourage erections more than the other ones. They make the victim feel bad for his erection." Darla giggled. "You want one, Benny? I think I want one." I stared at the contraptions. They looked cold and intimidating, but I felt my penis twitch as I looked at them. Part of me wanted to scream no, hell no. Part of me wanted to run into the street. Instead I looked at the cages, mesmerized. But part of me wanted to feel it embrace me. I knew I should protest. But the longer I looked, the more I felt the sensation of falling. "Can we try one on?" Darla said. Angie had no problem handling Benny's penis. She would slide this tube over it, then that one. She swapped out rings. She asked what color we wanted. Angie picked a dull gray one with spikes. It was smaller than I expected, an extra-small, Angie said. But it fit. Darla pushed the pins forward. She held the lock in her hands, then looked at me and smiled. "You're going to the big house," she said. "Well, maybe it's the small house. But you're going to prison." And she clicked it. And all control flowed out of me. If I had the key, it might have been exciting. But Darla gripped it tightly. She had no urge to let it go. It made me nervous. I felt trapped. Confined, in a naughty way. I tapped it. I tugged on the lock. There was no give anywhere. "It's like your dick is a little turtle,' Darla said "And the cage is it's shell. Look, it's sleeping." "I think it's an armored gerbil," I said. "Robo-gerbil." Darla laughed. She looked at it from the side. She bent down to examine it. "Maybe we don't want to do this," I said. "Oh, stop it , Boo," Darla said. "You wanted this more than I did. You had that look in your eyes. I liked my chains, and I admit it. Now you have yours. Admit it." She turned to Angie. "How long do I keep him in jail?" Angie laughed. "That depends on you, warden," she said. "I've known people who did two weeks. I've heard of people who went months. You do have to take it off to clean it, and I wouldn't forget to lube it to avoid chafing. But the point is that when Benny here has an orgasm, it's because you said he could have it. There are sissies out there who never come anymore. And they're happy as they can be."" "Sissies?" Darla said. "Sissies," Angie said. "They're guys who life feminine lives. They're usually with a strong woman or a man. They're submissives. Some of them clean and cook and do all your chores. Some of them let you sexually dominate them. The lifestyle goes well with cages. You can keep them locked away in panties while you lay on the couch and eat Cheetos. It takes a male-oriented world and makes it female-oriented." "Oh. One of those was in the movie. Angie looked me up and down. My pants were still around my ankles, and my cage was there for anyone to see. "This one is a good candidate for being a sissy," Angie said. "She'll look good in lipstick. I can see her mincing about the kitchen, cleaning the floors in her maid's outfit. You can take her with a strap-on, or you cam watch a male neighbor screw her, or you can send her to the drug store for lipstick. It's your fun, Darla. But I'll tell you: It's a hoot. You'd be a great mistress." Darla smiled at the word "mistress." She thought for a minute. "I like the idea, Angie," Darla said. "I've always thought Benny was a little girly." I looked at her. I was NOT girly. I wasn't going to wear a dress. Or lipstick. I tried to stand taller. I tried to puff my chest out. Wearing my cage, I looked silly. Angie brought out a pair of black high heels. "I think we have this in her size," Angie said. "It also comes in red." No one was listening to me. I had a cage on my penis, and my girlfriend was picking out heels for me. I protested. I swore. I whimpered. And Darla just smiled and kissed me on the nose. Darla picked up pale blue maid's dress, as if considering it. "You have this in men's sizes?" Darla asked. "They're mainly in men's sizes," Angie said. "Women who are maids usually go the uniform store. But sissies love our things. Let's try stuff on." She led me to the dressing room. I tried to protest, but Darla wouldn't hear of it. I guess I had known -- from the movie -- that this was part of her plan. I slipped into the panties. Angle helped me fasten a bra. Then I stepped into the blue dress. Angie added petticoats. She fixed a small hat onto my head. She put me in a pair of black heels. "These don't really go together," she said. "But it'll give you a chance to walk around and see how they feel." Eep. So I wobbled around the store, mincing really. Other customers saw me and laughed, this obvious man in a maid's dress. I twirled in front of the mirror. Look, I knew I was supposed to fight this. But the dress felt wonderful as it touched my legs. It looked wonderful. I could see the attraction. I kept looking into the mirror. "Benny," Darla said softly. "You know how that movie affected me. Well, this feels like that did. You know how the trans girl in the movie submitted to her mistress? Well, I want that. I want you to try this, baby. I want to see you in a skirt. Or a dress. I want you in makeup. This is something you're going to do for me. This is something you want to do for me. Isn't it?" I looked at her, and I felt my will power slipping away. It was as if they were in a cage, too. "For a little while, Darla," I finally said. "I'll try it for a little while. Only a little while. Okay?" She lept into my arms. She kissed my forehead. "Baby, it's going to be so much fun," she said. "You're going to be my pretty little princess." She bought the pale blue dress. She bought two pair of handcuffs. She bought an ankle chain. A strap-on dildo. A butt-plug. Some breast forms. She bought a leash and a collar. She bought a latex skirt and a silver dress. She bought two pairs of heels. she bought panties and bras. She bought makeup. She bought a gold chain to keep her key attached. By the end of the day, our Visa card was weeping. "This is a good start, sissy," she said. "We'll have to go to the Dillard's to buy more underwear and maybe a couple of dresses. Maybe some more shoes. But this will do for you to try this stuff out for awhile.' When Benny had said he was willing to try the lifestyle out, he meant for a day. Maybe for a weekend. But he counted several outfits, and she was talking about buying more. Benny could see this going on for a week, maybe for two. An hour earlier, he had been a man walking into a shop with his girlfriend. Now, he was a sissy with his dick in a cage. How was I going to get out of this? Deep down, did I want to? * * * We returned home with their packages, and Benny's head was still spinning. Darla looked at him, grinned and said "Make me some tea, sissy." She laughed loudly, obviously having her fun. He went to the kitchen and filled a cup with water. He put it in the microwave. "No, not the instant shit," Darla said. "Brew me a proper cub of tea." So he put the kettle on, and he stared out the window. Darla was taking this game too far. A maid's dress didn't make him a maid. Did it? This was all a game. Wasn't it? He handed her the cup. "Saucer?" she said. I sighed. I handed her a saucer. "You have much to learn about being a good domestic," Darla said, chuckling. "Maybe it's because you aren't dressed for the job yet. Why don't you put on your uniform?" I exhaled. I started to walk out to go change. "Wait a minute," she said. What now? "We have to decide on a name for you," Darla said. "Or do you want to go by Sissy all the time." "I don't want to go by Sissy," Benny said. "Let's see," Darla said. "How about Barbie? Becky is close to your name. Beverly?" He stood in front of her, afraid to say anything. She saw the fear in his eyes and smiled. This was good. She liked bossing him around. She could get used to this. "I've got it," Darla said, grinning. "How about Jenny? That's a nice American name. What could be more feminine than that? You can be Jennifer, but we'll call you Jenny. You like it?" "Not really," Jenny said. But in the grand scheme of things, that didn't matter very much. I went upstairs to put on his dress. This was going to be hard to accept. Ten minutes later, I came down the stairs in the blue maid's dress. Darla grinned. "Let me look at you, Jenny," she said. "Twirl for me. Now lift. your skirt. Curtsy. You know what a curtsy is. Wow. You're really girly." She frowned. "But you're hairy," she said. "Didn't you shave?" I touched my chin. "No, not there. Your legs, dumb-ass. Your chest. What kind of sissy are you?" "I don't know about being a sissy," I stammered. "There isn't a rule book about this stuff. I know I promised to try it for a little while. But it's hard for me." Darla shook her head, as if to complain about the hired help. "It's Miss Darla, sugar plum," she said. "Excuse me?" I said. "Call me Miss Darla," she said imperiously. "I think I want to be a Miss." "Darla...Miss Darla," I said. "Aren't you taking this a little too seriously?" "Maybe you aren't taking it seriously enough, Jenny. Maybe you need a spanking, like that woman in the movie. Maybe I should play the bongos on your cock cage. That would be fun. I'm sure Binky the Little Turtle wouldn't mind." She was kidding. Of course she was kidding. Wasn't she? I trudged upstairs. I ran the bath. I shaved my legs, but I wanted a hole from the earth to envelope me. This crap was humiliating. I shaved my armpits. I shaved my chest. I even shaved my arms. I went back downstairs. "Better, Jenny," Darla said. "You still need makeup, but at least you look like a woman for me. Now, let's see. Your hair isn't long enough. Do you want a wig, or would you prefer the world know you're a sissy?" "A wig, I guess," I said./span "Hmm. Wrong choice, I think, but it's yours. See, you have some control. We'll get your ears pierced. What do you think about tattooing on your makeup? It would be faster in the mornings." "No, please, Miss Darla," I said. "Well, we'll hold off for now," Darla said. "We'll see how you do with your chores. If you're girly enough, you don't have to have it tattooed on. That's fair, isn't it?" "Yes, Miss," I said. She cackled. "I love being a Miss. I love having a sissy. You know something I realize now, Jenny?" "Miss?" I said. "The dominatrix in the movie? She was a pussy. She never should have taken any shit from the transgender chick. I'd have tamed her, damn it." I swallowed hard. * * Things were happening so fast. My life was a blur of cloth and colors and fingernail paint and lipstick. I'll be honest. Part of liked it, the swish of my shirt, the look of my hels. I had a basic knowledge that a lot of men are forced into this lifestyle, but as long as we kept things reasonable, I could do it for a while. As long as no one found out. As long as I could return to being normal. When the alarm went off, I wanted to sleep for another hour. I couldn't. I got up, and I put on my makeup the best I could. I looked like a hooker. I put on my panties. I put on a bra. I stepped into my dress. And it ... wasn't bad. If the worst thing was dressing up, well, I could handle that. I put the breast forms inside my bra. They were only Bs, but they felt huge. I felt them. They felt like someone else's. I felt my cage. It was as unyielding as ever. But it was cute, I have to admit. I liked the glint of metal coming from my crotch. It was only when I thought of Darla, protecting the key like a palace guard, that I got nervous. I went downstairs and started breakfast. I liked to cook, so that wasn't a big deal for me. It was actually peaceful with Darla asleep. But soon enough, I heard her stirring. She walked into the room, and she smiled when I curtsied. Then she scowled. "Are you even trying with your makeup, sweetie" she said. "Christ. You look like Bozo the clown." She approached me and started to wipe it off, then reapply. "Jenny," she said. "I want you to go to the bathroom and wait for me. I'll be there after I've had my coffee." I walked up, and I waited. I was having a hard time reading Darla. She said everything sweetly, but she left no doubt who was in charge. Darla came in and told me to lift my arms. I did. She handcuffed each of them to an overhead bar. Then she tickled my ribs. I tried to pull away. "I know you have work this morning," Darla said. "So I'll only keep you here for 30 minutes. But if your makeup is flawed again tomorrow, you'll be going to work in a dress. Won't all the guys love that? You'll be the queen of the office. There might even be a blowjob involved, although I suspect you'll be giving it." There was a twinkle in her eye as she threatened me, one that made me wonder how much of her was being serious and how much was playing. "Darla...Miss Darla," I said. "Why are you being so mean?" "Because sissies crave it," Darla said. "I've read a lot on the subject this week. You cannot be too soft on your sissy. She'll start thinking she's a real man again. That's the whole point, Jenny. You aren't a man, and I can't allow you to think that you are. You aren't a girl, either. You're trapped in the Phantom Zone." She left the room, then came back. She lifted my hem, and she tugged down on my panties. And then I felt it. Hard and foreign. A butt plug. I clenched my ass cheeks and tried to fight it. She just laughed and pushed hard, and I felt a small pop as it entered. With the cage in front and the plug in back, I felt completely violated. "Think about things, Jenny," Darla said. "You're a girl now. Forget this "for a while" shit. This is life now. Get used to it." I hung there, weeping. My penis was in a cage. I ass burned from my plug. I was wearing a dress. I had on make-up. I was Jenny. * * * The hours turned into days, and those turned into weeks. I would rise at 5 a.m. every morning and dress. I would make a light breakfast, and I would start on the laundry before Darla woke up. We would have coffee together. She would leave for work, and i would go upstairs and change. She didn't want to see me in guy clothes. I had four uniforms now -- pink, black, yellow and the blue -- and nine pair of heels. My ears were pierced. I was eternally in panties. And, damn it, I was happy. I liked the control. I liked being submissive. I don't know why. Maybe I was built this way. Oh, I was still nervous at work. I kept imagining that people could see my cage, and the pink panties that enveloped it. This was going to end badly, I thought. Eventually, Darla would push it, and someone would discover that I was wearing a bra or panties, and I would have explaining to do. At mid-morning, I discovered I had a bit of red nail polish on. I scraped it off furiously. Greg, a co-worker, asked me to lunch that day. He wanted to talk about the Bengals or some such nonsense. He talked about his golf game, and the Adams project he was working on, and thought we should get together to watch college basketball. He talked about cars, and the hockey playoffs, and the new gym on Forest. I couldn't concentrate, though. I sat there, and I was aware of my cage the entire hour. My penis itched. I thought about my panties. I was still sore from my butt plug. Greg talked about Darla and I and his wife, Beth, going out for a meal. I told him Darla was very busy with projects. He told me to ask her. He told me about a female impersonator show we could go to. "Great fun, Benny," he said. "You'll love it?" I will? What did he mean by that? Why would he ask me to a drag show? What did he know? What did he suspect? I was going crazy. This damn cage was making me. * * * We went to the drag show, and it was as if there were two sets of performers. One was the over-the-top imitations of women. The other was transgender women who were honestly trying to pass without starving to death. The four of us sat at a table in the back corner, watching Cherry Delight dance. She moved fluidly across the stage, as one with the music. Greg looked at her with lust; I looked at her wondering where she bought her heels. Once again, Darla was into the show. She drank heavily, as if she were trying to douse her own fire this time. Finally, she looked at Greg and Amber, his wife. And she said words that left me cold. "You know, Jenny is prettier." "Who is Jenny?" Amber asked. "Benny is Jenny," Darla slurred. "And Jenny is Benny. Jenny is my sissy. And she could put all of these women to shame." "What?" "Jenny is my bitch. She wears dresses, too. You'd like her, Greg. She's a submissive bitch, aren't you honey?" I stared at my feet. I could not believe my wife had just outed me to a co-worker and his wife. "Benny?" Greg had an quizzical look on his face. "It's....it's role-play," I finally said. "We dress up sometimes." "Sometimes?" Darla said, a little loud. She laughed. "We dress up every damn day. Greg, ask Jenny if she has panties on right now. I dare you." He smiled. "Do you?" he said. "It's nobody's business," Amber said. "If you're buddy is gay, it's fine with me." "I"m not..." I started to say. "You guys should come to the apartment and check Jenny out," Darla said. "Her in her little maid's dress.You'd both want to fuck her, I promise." "Darla!" I said. "It's Miss Darla to you, Jenny. You know that. And it's fine. Everyone's going to know, sooner or later. Once your tits come in, there will be no hiding it. "My ... tits? "Oh, don't tell me you didn't know that I was feeding your hormones in your food, girlfriend," Darla said. "All sissies want boobies, don't they? All sissies clean house, and all sissies wear lipstick, and all sissies such cock." Greg was watching the two of us as if he were at a tennis match, his head turning with every word either of us would say. But when Darla said that sissies sucked cocks, he dropped his drink onto the floor. A woman approached our table, then leaned down and said something to Darla. "Shit," she said. "We're being asked to leave because someone was too loud. Me, I think. But I was ready to do anyway. How about you , Jenny? You going to stay and work the late-night crowd? You could make some money." I stood up and, ashamed, left the bar. I road in the backseat of Greg's car on the way home. "Benny...Jenny," Amber said. "It's okay. People have different natures. I'm glad we found out about you. We can be better friends that way. You're a girl, and it's great." "Do you have a pussy?" Greg asked. Amber hit him on the arm. "No, I don't," I said quietly. "Do you have a dick?" he asked. "He used to have one," Darla said. "But it's little. And it's locked away." "Locked away?" Amber asked. "It's in a cock cage," Darla said, laughing. "Jenny's joint is in the joint." "Please stop, Darla. You're drunk. I don't want anyone to know." "Well, that's your problem," Darla snapped. "You're the one who keeps asking me if you can sleep with a guy. Why anyone would want to squeeze a dick into their booty hole is beyond me, but you have whatever fun you want." I looked at Greg. I looked at Amber. They believed every word Darla was saying. I was not only a sissy, evidently I slept with guys. Greg was a loudmouth. This would get out at work. I'd be a punchline. * * * We arrived at the apartment, and Darla immediately told me to get everyone drinks. I told her she should go to be, and she just glared at me. So I poured, and I hoped everyone would forget about what had just transpired. I also wish that time travel was a reality and world hunger would be cured. None of it was happening. I served drinks, and Darla looked at me. "Put on your pink dress," she said. "Come on, Darla," I said. "I'll get you some coffee" "No, damn it. I want to see you in your pink dress. Now. And I'm not going to tell you again.It's Miss Darla. Do you want to be spanked in front of your boyfriend?" I went upstairs. I could not believe how badly the night had turned out. I put on a bra and my breast forms. I slid into the pink dress. I pulled up the petticoats. I tried to finger-style my hair. I put on makeup. I put on my heels. I decided not to put on fingernail polish. I decended the stairs, and I walked into the living room. Both Greg and Amber saw me at the same time. She emitted a small whistle. He just said "wow." And Darla beamed at her personal toy. I refilled everyone's drink. I got some snacks out. Maid's uniforms are short, and when I would lean over to serve, I would display my ass to the room. Maybe that's why Greg eventually stroked it. Darla cackled. "Greg, cut it out," Amber said. "But it's what she wants," Greg protested. "I'm just being a good friend. Good friends fuck each other's asses." Amber giggled. She didn't seem offended by Greg's wandering eye. She seemed ... curious. Finally, Darla stood up. "Come here, everyone," she said. We walked into our bedroom, and there -- laid out as they always were -- the spread eagle cuffs were in their proper corners of the bed. "Jenny, I want you to take off your clothes and lay on this pillow," she said. I looked at her warily. She said "Now." And so I stripped, slowly, even the bra and panties, and I crawled onto the mattress, and I put the pillow underneath my stomach. One by one, Darla snapped the handcuffs shut. Greg looked on. He saw my cage, and he asked what it was. "It's her peenie prison," Darla said. "We try to keep her locked away for two weeks at a time. Trust me. Jenny hated it at first, but now she loves it. She feels naked without it. And now she's naked with it." The three of them watched me carefully. Then Darla began to orchestrate our night. "Okay, Greg. You're up. Have at her." I lay, spread eagle, face down, the pillow propping up my ass. I felt him climb over me as Amber and Darla watched. He rubbed something wet into my ass crack. He rubbed his dick up and down my ass. Then, slowly, he started to work it inside. It was a big dick, proud and hard, and after an initial sting, it fit me. He started to pump me slowly, enjoying his ass sex. He began to thrust faster. And it was wonderful. The nerve endings began to respond, and I wasn't being violated. I was being made love to. He came, long and hard, his fluid running down my legs. I twisted around, and we kissed right in front of our wives. I looked, and Amber was putting Darla's strap-on on her. I thought she was going to fuck Darla. Instead, she took Greg's place and, once again, I was being fucked. Greg moved in front of my face. He held his cock out toward my face. And I parted my lips and took it. It had a musty taste after being inside of me, but I liked having two people thrust at me. Yes, I was a sissy bitch, and yes, I liked it. If Darla left me tomorrow, I'd remain a sissy. It was who I was. And I accepted it. * * * Darla woke up apologetic. She couldn't believe how drunk she was, or that she had outed me, or that she had presented me to have sex with another couple. Me? I should have been angry. I should have shouted and swore and screamed. Instead, I washed the dishes. And I smiled at the memory of the previous night. There was no doubting who I was now. There was work to be done. Darla went with me to my office, and we met with human resources, and we discussed transitioning. We figured if we beat Greg to the office gossip, it would be in our control. I met with a proper doctor about my breasts. And I began to show up places dressed as a woman. The first time I came into the office en femme, I was wearing a blue dress. My makeup was flawless, and my hair cascaded down to my shoulders. The woman gathered around me, accepting and loving. The men kept their distance, but more than one of them checked out my ass. I sat at my desk. I thought about the past few months and how the dots connected from there to here. I moved as if I were an actress, and I spoke as if I were playing a role. Movies are good, I thought. Movies, even bad movies, entertain us. They make us laugh, they make us cry, they make us feel. And sometimes, they open our ideas to a new thought, even a new existence. Me? I started with a movie. I ended with real life. Sometimes, one felt very much like the other. Copyright, Cassandra Morgan