I'm Not A Sissy free porn video

I'M NOT A SISSY by Throne My name is Joe and not Jodie. I'm an adult and not a kid. And I'm a man and not a simpering sissy. I keep telling myself that. But my wife Arianna thinks differently. I mean, ever since we got married two years ago she had been running my life more and more. Talking down to me. Turning me into her sex slave in the bedroom, demanding oral attentions and giving almost nothing in return. She mocked my small penis and made me masturbate while she watched. She kept saying that it was so small that I looked like a kid and therefore had to be treated like one. She bought me junior size jockey shorts that were decorated with cartoon characters. Even though I'm short and have a very small frame they were still much too small, and put constant pressure on my testicles. It was all awkward and difficult. But I was so smitten with her. She's a lot taller than me, has long red- blond hair and possesses a sweet round face. What really enabled her to keep me on a short leash was her figure, with tremendous curves that left me feeling weak every time I looked at her, and more so when she dressed to show them off, which was most of the time. Arianna in slacks and a snug top turns almost every male head in her direction. You can only imagine how jealous I was when we were out anywhere and guys were stripping her with their eyes. She liked to stop for a drink sometimes, in one sports bar or another, and always had men admiring her and starting conversations. She would be flirty, at the same time acting like I was nobody, even though I was right next to her. Still, it never went past that point. At least it didn't until Max came back into our lives. Arianna and I had known each other back in college. I was the little weakling following her around like a puppy dog. She was the stunning blond who every guy desired. And Max was the star football player who dated her and bullied me. He would let me make a date with Arianna, with reservations at some swanky restaurant. She loved to have me spend money on her. I guess that was the basis of our relationship. But like I said, he would let me make one of those expensive dates, get myself all ready, and then he'd call her to go out for pizza and beer. She always accepted his invitations. Max would call me names like Short Stuff and Junior Joe. I hated it. She was amused. Then we graduated and she stayed with me. I couldn't believe it. At least not until we were wed and I realized she wanted not a muscular jock like him, but a wimp like me who she could control at every level. Our marriage was lopsided, with me giving and her getting, but I accepted all that. It was worth it to me, just to be around her and to at least have the limited sexual contact that she allowed. I guess nothing would have changed if Max hadn't come back into our lives. We ran into him at one of the bars we occasioned and he was still his old unpleasant self. "Hey, Ari," he said to my wife, "I didn't know you had a son. You shouldn't bring the little boy into a bar." Instead of defending me she laughed. Of course she did. Then she told him that she had to treat me like a kid to keep me in line. He wanted to know if that was the only reason I got seen as less than an adult. "Remember," he said, "I saw Junior in the locker room. I know that he got cheated in the dick department. Unlike me, which you know from those nights we were together." My wife laughed -- again -- and conceded my shortcoming. She even told him about the shameful underwear she had made me start wearing. "Tonight he's got his Sponge-Boy Square-Hat ones on. Like from that TV cartoon." "This I've got to see," he said. "Let's move over to that booth in the back so he can give me a flash of them." I tried to object but my bride told me not to be a killjoy. I reluctantly followed them to the shadowy booth, staring at the way Arianna's wide swaying bottom moved under her clinging skirt. We ended up seated with me between them. Max had me open my slacks and show him the humiliating underwear. He thought they were hilariously funny. But then he wouldn't let me pull my pants back up. "Let me see if you still have those skinny legs," he insisted. "With almost no hair on them." Arianna backed him up with, "Go on, Mini-Man," using another of those upsetting nicknames. To Max she said, "Actually, he had so little hair on his legs, and the rest of him, that I made him get rid of it all. Got him one of those laser hair removers. He's been using it for months." "I thought that if you used those things that long, the hair stopped growing back." "Really?" she said with an impish look on her pretty face. "I had no idea." With both of them urging me on, I removed my shoes and got my pants the rest of the way off. Max took them and put them on his other side, where I couldn't retrieve them. He said, "Okay, you've still got them slim legs. But you can't sit there with no pants on. Maybe you better get under the table before somebody sees you in your silly shorts and makes a fuss." "I'm not... I can't..." "Now you're embarrassing your hot wife," he said with conviction. "Maybe I should take her out of here. Along with your pants, so you don't come after us and try to hurt me." "You can't do that. My wallet and keys are in my pants." "I can do that," he told me with smug confidence. "I can also drag you out of this booth and show everybody your pretty undies and what a tiny bump your baby dick makes in them." "Go on, Junior," Arianna said. "You upset me and almost spoiled my evening. Show me that you're sorry. Get... under... this... table." I slid down and found myself in deeper darkness, hidden from curious eyes by the tablecloth, though it didn't cover anything on the seating side. I saw Max's big hand settle on Arianna's thigh and her make no effort to remove it. He quizzed her about our life together and she didn't hold back anything. He was entertained by hearing how I was treated like a juvenile in my own home, and reduced to a living sex toy in our bedroom. "Damn," he said. "Now you're acting like he's a naughty boy. What's next? Maybe putting his miniature pecker into panties and turning into the sissy he already is inside?" "Oh," she said breathily. "That'd be kind of... exciting." "Right. You're a naturally controlling woman, Ari. Always were, except with me." His hand moved higher. "And that's because I'm a take-command guy. You know?" "Well... maybe." "Don't make like you didn't love it." "All right. You know anyway. I liked having you in the driver's seat." "That's not where you liked having me the most. Me and my big cock." Her hand appeared under the table and went to his lap. His hand vanished under her short skirt and she gasped. "Um, Max. We're out in public." "It's private enough for one of your super blowjobs. I know you miss the feel of my tool stretching your jaws." "You sure haven't changed." "And I'm sure you haven't either. So do you want to show me you still have skills, or just go home tonight with the no-dick wonder who's under this table?" "I..." Her hand moved back and forth over his member, rubbing it through his pants. "All right, you big bastard." With deft movements she undid his belt and opened his pants. He lowered his fly and she freed his cock. It was a whopper and, in no time she had it standing up. "Arianna," I whispered hoarsely. "You can't do this." "Shut up," Max told me. "Unless you want to take over for her." I gagged at the possibility. There was a real chance that he might make me do something like that. In a last ditch effort to save the situation I said, "Honey, we're married." She shot back with, "In name only. As far as sex, you don't qualify as a husband. Or a man. Max is right. You're a sissy. And deserve to be put in panties. But for right now just be quiet and get an eyeful of what I do for a real man." My wife began to stroke his rigid cock in earnest. She ducked down her head and fastened her lips around the end of it. Then she took in more and let it out, bobbing up and down on his shaft. I got sick to my stomach. Wanted to cry. Went weak all over. She combined hand and mouth action to increase his pleasure. For about five minutes she submissively pleasured that crude brute and then... I shuddered as it happened... he ejaculated into her mouth. But my ordeal wasn't over. Max told her not to swallow. He got me by the collar and hauled me up, back into my sitting position between them. "All right, Ari," he ordered. "Show Junior League you still care about him. Give him a big deep kiss." She hesitated. Her eyes went wide with shock. But then she smiled around the mouthful of spunk and spit that was making her smooth cheeks swell. Grabbed my head with both hands. Fastened her lips over mine. Jabbed her thumbs into the my jaws to make me open up. And pushed a huge gob of Max's fresh warm ejaculate, mixed with plenty of her saliva, onto my tongue. "Go on, Small Time," Max urged me with a suggestion of threat in his tone. "Gulp it all down like a good little sissy. Do it!" What choice did I have? Sitting there with that glop already in my mouth, my pants and money and ID and keys out of reach, and Arianna taking his side. I gagged down the whole disgusting mouthful and felt it oozing toward my stomach. It was unthinkably awful. Arianna gathered up the remainder that was in her own mouth and spit it into mine. Then she and Max got his cock all put away. They exchanged phone numbers. He finished his drink and she did the same. They got out of the booth, him taking my pants. He said, "You can pick these up in the parking lot." They strolled away, arm in arm, and out the back door. I couldn't risk someone else getting my pants and everything in them, so I hurried after them, trying to go unnoticed but being seen by everyone there. Sounds of amusement stung my ears as I became a laughingstock, with my hairless legs and juvenile, overly snug underwear. Outside, Max took my keys and wallet, then dropped my pants on the ground. He put his heavy foot on them and stood there fingering through my money, taking my credit cards, and giving everything to Arianna. Then he dropped the wallet and walked away. He called back to me to not dare to go back inside and rinse my mouth. They went to their separate cars, my wife took her keys out of her bag, and while I was getting dressed they drove away. I stood there, lost and forlorn, with a dread for what might come next. The bar was on the edge of town and I had to hike several miles to get back to our house with that awful taste in my mouth and the tight underwear hugging my balls. At least it was a balmy night. When I arrived both their cars were parked out front. I tried the door and it was locked. Then I went around to check the side entrance but it was the same. Not knowing what else to do, I moved on to the rear of the house. The bedroom window was opened partway and I heard voices, hers and his. A chill ran through me. The widow was too high for me to peek through. I heard my wife say, "I almost didn't believe that, when you made Junior follow us outside in his underpants." Then Max wanted to know, "Did it get you kind of stimulated? A big main man like me picking on a little loser like him? You know, like in the animal world, where the toughest bull chases his competition away from the female he wants? Did you have that primitive reaction?" "You know," she admitted, "I did have something like that. Made me want to mate with the bull. Which is you. Max the Bull." In desperation I hissed, "Arianna, it's me. I'm locked out." She said, "Oh crap, it's Mister Not-So-Wonderful." Max told her, "He had to show up eventually. Even after we stopped for our little shopping side-trip, we were still way ahead of him. But now he's here. Want me to let Junior inside?" "I don't know." She sighed loudly. "I suppose so. Otherwise we can't show him all the gifts we bought for his sissy ass." That didn't sound good. Max came to the window. One muscular arm appeared and he dropped my keys which, of course, I missed. I had to get down on the ground and grope around for them in the dark. Then I rushed to the side door, eager to be inside. When I reached the bedroom my wife was in one of her revealing nighties that showed off her full figure, and Max had on only his boxer shorts. Arianna said, "Strip down, Tiny Tim. You have to put on what we got for you." "Please," I said in a faint voice. "If we could just talk. I know you have physical urges, dear, but this just isn't right." Like a flash, the same way as he did in his jock days, Max shot across the room and slammed into me, knocking me against the wall. He grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked so hard that buttons were torn loose. Then he swung me around, tripping me at the same time. I landed hard on my side and the wind was knocked out of me. He snarled, "Nobody told you to talk, Dumbo. Where are your manners? If you don't want some more of what I just gave you, I'd suggest you get naked right this minute." Too shocked and frightened to stand up to him, I began to get out of my damaged shirt. The shoes and pants came next. Arianna sneered at my abrupt surrender. I removed my socks and waited a second, hoping that one of them would let me stop at that point. It was mortifying enough to have most of my hairless body exposed, but the prospect of having Max see my immature genitals again after so much time had passed, that chilled me to the core. Even so, I had to do it. With my wife looking on maliciously, I lowered my shorts, stepped out of them, and set them on the chair where my outwear had already been deposited. "Now, Teeny Wienie," my bride said triumphantly, "we're going to use Max's brilliant idea and make you look like what you really are." She reached into a pink, handled, shopping bag and pulled out a pair of panties, barely more than a thong, red with a tiny bow at each hip. When she held them out to me I pulled back my hands. I couldn't accept them. One stern look from Max made me change my mind. I accepted the bit of lingerie and with both of them watching avidly, got them up my smooth legs and fussed them into place. Arianna told me to tuck my three-piece set down and back. After I did that it appeared almost like I had nothing male down there at all. She ran her fingers along the center of my bald chest and kept going, past my navel, to brush them across my crotch. I trembled and whimpered. Max declared, "That's a good look for you, Finger Dick." "Yeah," my wife agreed. "But he needs more, so none of us forgets for even a second that he's a sissy." "So," Max offered, "you've got a pile of make-up over there on your dresser." "Smart man," she complimented. "How about if I use some..." She selected several items, made me stand in front of the mirror over the dresser, and went to work on my face. I saw my reflection transformed with eye cosmetics, blush, lipstick and a coating of gloss over that. She finished with long false eyelashes, two sets of them. Every time I blinked they fluttered. It was shameful beyond bearing. Max sat on the edge of the bed and patted his lap. "Get over here, Pansy Panties," he barked. "That's terrible, the way you made yourself look to attract men." What? No. It wasn't me who had made-up my face. I didn't want to draw male attention. This was spinning out of control. I got near him and he grabbed my arm to drag me over his lap. The panties didn't cover anything in back, with just a narrow cord that lay deep between my buttocks. So there I lay, over his firm thighs, with my nude bottom sticking up and... I understood belatedly... awaiting punishment for that unfair charge. Before I could react further, Max raised his powerful arm and brought his open hand down hard, smacking one of my unmuscular, rear cheeks solidly. I shrieked like the sissy they had labeled me, kicked my feet and grabbed hold of the chair's legs. The big man continued landing blows on my unprotected flesh. Arianna cheered him on. "Get him, Max. Get Joe. But we can't call him that anymore. We have to rename him... Jodie. Make Sissy Jodie cry." It didn't take many more smacks before I was doing exactly that, hot tears streaming down my warm face. I squirmed and bucked, all to no avail. Not until my bottom was ablaze and Max was quite done did he effortlessly stand my on my feet, get up alongside me, and walk me back to the mirror. I saw my face, eye make-up running, those excessive lashes flipping up and down as I tried to regain some semblance of composure. He clamped his hand on the back of my neck and tightened it like a vise. Then he marched me back to the chair, spun it around, and made me kneel behind it, looking through the rails of the seat as if I was in a cage peering out. "Stay there, wimp-o," he said in a no-nonsense way. "You've got a front row seat for the main attraction, even if your ass is too sore to sit in that seat. And we don't want you yapping while we're trying to stay focused on screwing our brains out, so just, um..." My wife finished the thought for him, "... just stick your thumb in your mouth and keep it there the whole time, Jodie." Max laughed. "Right. Suck your thumb, sissy." He swept her up in his capable arms and set her gently on the bed, then peeled down his shorts and tossed them at me. They landed on one side of my head and dropped to my bare shoulder, from where I didn't dare to move them. I knelt with my thumb between my sealed lips, sucking lightly, looking between the back rails of the chair, while he got into the missionary position and, after fondling her melon breasts and kissing her neck, had another impressive erection. He eased into her and she purred happily. Next he began a slow rhythmic pumping that made her wriggle with delight. She also talked to him, saying, "Max, this is incredible. Just like back in college. I feel so filled up. No wonder I don't let little Puny Prick over there have sex with me, except with his mouth. He is so inferior." "It's okay, baby. I'm back and will take good care of you." He demonstrated with a half dozen powerful thrusts. "Like that." She wrapped her legs around him and begged, "More. Slam me hard. Bang me till I scream." I sucked fervently on my thumb. My wife's glorious big breasts rolled beneath Max's solid chest. The salty taste of his spunk was still in my mouth from earlier. I rocked back and forth, murmuring in wordless self- pity, as he thoroughly satisfied her. It went on for longer than I could ever have lasted and then she erupted into a volcanic orgasm, crying out and arching her back, receiving his final jabs hungrily. He let himself finish at the same time. I could tell from his animalistic grunts that he was jetting his cum inside her. She gradually subsided into mellow post- coital languor. The air smelled like sex and sweat. I slumped forward and rested my chin on the chair's seat, utterly defeated. Shortly after that, as they chatted, I learned that Max had just returned to our area after being away at a job since college. He had gotten a room in a motel but my wife spontaneously invited him to move in with us. There was a spare space at the back of the house, one of those rooms they call a Mother-in-Law apartment. That was where I had to go, while he took over my place in the main bedroom. They did a whirlwind job of decorating my new environment in pink and white, with a bed meant for a pre-teen girl, a dresser topped with stuffed toys and several dildos, a scroll-back chair in front of a vanity with curved legs, and posters of effeminate looking, male pop stars. When I was at home my typical outfit might be a girl's cotton sleepshirt that ended well above my knees. Or else female gym shorts and an athletic top. Tops adorned with images of rainbows and unicorns. Then there were sexier, less juvenile selections. There was a skintight shirt that reached only to my bottom ribs, which was typically combined with sassy shorts that were open on the sides, where they were held together with laces. Other choices were filmy baby doll nighties, bikini panties with color-coordinated stockings, and even a fishnet top and matching tights. My wife delighted in making me walk and talk in an exaggeratedly feminine manner. Max got off on swatting my bottom, making me sit on his lap, and voicing lewd suggestions that I became increasingly convinced he would soon act on. Of course I had to watch them have great sex, which happened frequently. Even then they managed to add extra indignities. For instance, Max owned several pairs of dress shoes that he would have me polish and buff while he and my bride were in bed where I could see them, sharing extended foreplay and then rutting like crazed animals. I had to kneel on the floor with a cloth spread out in front of me and my shoeshine supplies neatly lined up in easy reach. And then I had to busily perform my menial task while they busily humped themselves through ecstasy and into near exhaustion. Max would call out to me in the middle of their lovemaking, "I want to hear that brush moving," or "Let's see you buff in the same rhythm I'm using to make your wife happy." Arianna even once said, "Look at this. My sissy husband has his hand in my lover's shoe, while my lover has his cock deep in my pussy. Jodie is such a pathetic cuckold." At breakfast they would sit at the table while I ate from a dog bowl on the floor. I got their scraps and sometimes leftovers from the fridge. When they were feeling especially mean, which was most of the time, my meal might be topped with yesterday's cold bacon grease scraped from the pan, or else the previous day's coffee grounds. Dinners were no better. Sometimes canned dog food -- or cat food that stank of fish oil -- was involved. It was stomach-turning. At night and on weekends I had plenty of housework to keep me busy. There was dusting and vacuuming and kitchen maintenance, and especially cleaning the bathroom from top to bottom. I'm sure that Max made a special effort to miss the toilet bowl just a bit when he relieved his bladder. While all that was going on, they also had me using those dildos that were on my dresser. I had to fellate them, pretend to relish what I was doing, and practice deepthroating until I conquered my gag reflex. My gorgeous wife would appear in some diaphanous sleepwear, looking like temptation incarnate, and instead of being allowed to touch her or do even more, I had to suck on an artificial cock, demonstrate techniques of licking and swirling she was teaching me (usually by demonstrating on Max), and keep telling the fake phallus how much I loved it (while it was out of my mouth and I was able to speak). Then my wife started to have some of her girlfriends over to see me. Often I had to dress as a maid and serve them snacks. It would have been demeaning enough with a full uniform but all I was given was a lacy headpiece, matching collar, tiny apron that tied in the back, and black shoes with square toes and three inch heels. Of course, she had begun having me practice walking in heels earlier, so that by then I could do it without wobbling or stumbling if I went slowly. My balanced movements were small consolation. The footwear shaped my legs to appear more feminine and still forced me to take small mincing steps. Arianna's friends thought it was funny to have me bend forward when offering the tray, so that those behind me got a full-moon view of my bottom. They liked to display their cleavage and legs. Sometimes they would pat my bare backside and stroke my smooth thighs. I even had to demonstrate my special skills with a fat pink dildo that I swallowed up to its artificial balls. It was all devastating to my male ego. Just picture me, half naked in one or another of my abbreviated outfits, with no body hair, using an overly girly walk that had become second nature to me, showing sissy body language when I sat and giving deep curtsies. Imagine me with my face made up, the style changing all the time. And wearing a variety of short wigs. Often being treated like a misbehaving child and given 'corner time' or a 'mouth soaping'. Speaking with a wispy voice, interspersing my words with sighs and mewls. It went on until I honestly started to doubt my adult status and masculinity. But I kept telling myself -- I'm not a sissy. One night my wife dressed in an especially ravishing way. She had on a tight dress that hugged every one of her outstandingly generous curves. It almost allowed her big round boobs to pop free. And the hem was where a garter should be. I was half out of my mind with bottled up lust for her. All I had on were panties and stockings. And then Max appeared. He was dressed in black with leather fingerless gloves. Something about his appearance and how he eyed me, made me pause and stoked my worst fears. He sat on the sofa and pulled me down next to him. My wife put herself across from us on the small couch, striking a seductive pose. Max set his hand on my thigh and gave it a squeeze. I froze up inside. This was something new. He had pawed my bottom and pushed me around, yet this was more... intimate. Then he reached across to finger my receptive nipples. I shivered and my little penis thickened. He lightly flicked it with one finger. Suddenly it was at full alert, pushing against the panties. That had not happened before, from exclusively male attention. I tried to tell myself the reaction was caused by Arianna's stunning appearance. But I didn't believe it. "So, Jodie," said Max. "Your wife tells me you've become very good with those dildos, using your mouth and throat like a pussy. A sissy pussy. Hmmm?" "I... guess so." "Don't be modest." He gave me another nipple rub, making me lick my lips. "Do you have one that's the same size as my cock?" "Well..." I waved a limp-wristed hand in the air. "I suppose I do. There are so many of them." I sighed with something that could be taken for wistfulness. "And I can handle them all." Why did I add that? And why wouldn't my penis relax? "Why do you ask?" His hand tightened on my bare hairless thigh. "Because it's time for you to take the next step." He dug his fingers into my undeveloped muscles. "And I won't take no for an answer." There was a suggestion of danger in that last sentence. He hadn't spanked me for a few days but that didn't mean he wouldn't do it right then, if I displeased him. "Understand?" "Sir," I said, using the deferential voice that went with my maid duties. "Yes, Sir. I understand." My skin prickled as he took me by the shoulders and, with his superior strength, moved me off the sofa and onto my knees in front of him. Max told me to lower my panties to mid-thigh, which I did without thinking. Now Arianna could see my bare bottom. That was nothing new but in the context of this unique situation it seemed important. He reached for the front of his pants and pulled aside a flap, baring the cock that satisfied my wife so well. I swallowed drily. Part of my mind was comparing it to the collection of dildos and assuring me that I could manage it. When I tried to banish that thought it wouldn't go away. My hands went automatically to his upper legs, fingertips making lazy circles. I tilted my head to one side and smiled coyly. What was happening to me? Max, uncharacteristically gentle, put a hand on the back of my head and drew it forward, until I was almost touching his slightly engorged cock. I manipulated it for a minute and brought it to full life. My hands ran up and down its thick length while I stared at it as if hypnotized. Max lightly took my ears and pulled me forward the final inches. My mouth opened as I went and enclosed the thick head, my breath teasing it. When I turned my eyes up to him he looked back expectantly. Months of conditioning to be submissive, of trying to avoid discipline, of being made increasingly sissy-like, all came together as I closed my lips around his heavy cock, just behind the head, not too tight but definitely not loose. I held it there possessively. Ran my tongue over the sensitive underside. Savored the taste. And began to give him the blowjob that I had previously only bestowed on those unfeeling rubber cocks. I used every trick in my repertoire. Sucked and licked and swirled. Took him in up to his heavy balls. Let it free so I could tongue-slap the receptive head. Plunged back on it like a ravenous creature. He maintained control but I sensed it took a special effort. I felt a new form of pride. I massaged his scrotum. Rubbed my cheek against his inner thigh. He was loving it and I was strangely proud, in spite of that silent mantra, 'I am not a sissy'. After what felt like a half hour or more, I decided he it was the optimal time to finish him. I sucked the head while my hand gripped the shaft, my thumb on the seam that ran down the bottom of his member. He responded as I wanted him to and soon was at the point of no return. I breathed in through my nostrils. He unloaded his balls into my mouth. I didn't swallow. Instead I continued to nose-breathe, sucking him dry, and coaxing out the final drops with that carefully placed thumb. I bathed his cockhead in his own cum to give him an added treat. Only when I felt him begin to soften did I allow myself to swallow, full of accomplishment instead of revulsion. And then it hit me. A powerful wave of guilt and regret. I had just sucked the cock of my wife's lover, the cock that as so frequently in her pussy, the cock that had stolen her away from me, and I had loved it. I sat back on my haunches, dizzy and disoriented. In a small voice I uttered, "I am not a sissy." "No?" Max asked. "Then why is your little dingus still all hard?" I reached down and my fingers met a small but super-stiff erection. I told myself there was some other explanation. That their efforts to turn me into a sissy were not successful. I repeated, "I am not a sissy." My undersized dick throbbed and demanded attention. I said it again, with less conviction. "I am not a sissy." I gripped my stick and gave it three hard jerks, making it spurt prematurely. And then I said, "Oh no, I really AM a sissy." Max said, "And will be from now on." Arianna came up behind me and leaned far over to kiss him on the mouth. He put his hands on her queen-size boobs, freed that from that low-cut dress, and used his thumbs on her nipples. She said, "Yes. This is the way it will stay. You and me and our slavish pansy boy. I hope Jodie doesn't like sucking your cock so much that he loses his skills at eating my pussy." "Don't worry. After everything we've done to him, he'll be our all- purpose sissy. And stay that way. There's no going back for him." I put my hands on the sides of my face, licked a drop of spunk from the corner of my mouth, and knew he was absolutely correct. No matter how many times I try to tell myself differently, that I'm Joe, an adult, and not what they've made me, the truth is that I am Jodie, to be treated like a child, and that I am a sissy. ********* (Hey, I have some new stories on my page at Deviant Art, under the name Subthrone. Hope you'll take a peek.)