Gromet's PlazaTG/CD Stories

Consequences of Infidelity

by Curtsy

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© Copyright 2021 - Curtsy - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/m; cd; fem; bodymod; medical; castrate; cuckold; tg; chastity; public; hum; drug; pantyhose; maid; reluct; XXX

Part 2


I did as ordered, and reported to Rita in her office. With Rita was a face I recognized: Nancy, her friend and expert in contract law. There were papers on the desk and I wondered what now? Rita explained that now that I was wearing totally female clothing and would be from now on, I should have a new name. Rita showed me some papers I was to sign, legally changing my name. I looked at the papers and noticed that the name Rita was giving me was ‘PRISCILLA LOUISE ____’. Of course I don't show the last name, but it was changed as well. In fact it was Rita's maiden name. Rita informed me that she was also taking back her maiden name.

On the forms under the column marked sex, instead of being marked Male, it was marked Other. I was kind of caught off guard. I was just irritable, after going through all I had, just to go to the bathroom. It took me nearly half an hour in the bathroom. Besides that my feet were killing me in those 4 inch high heels all morning and also my girdle was squeezing me to death and the underwire bra was digging into my chest. I told Rita that “I did not consider myself an Other, and I did not want a name change, including having my family name removed. It's like I never existed. I still consider myself a Male!"

Rita glared at me and sat down and started writing me out a check. She said this $500 should get you a room for a couple of nights and meals. She said I could have a couple of dresses and the outfit I was wearing. I was to sign or take these things and leave! I realized I was given no choice and I of course signed. I meekly apologized to Rita and asked for permission to leave. Rita said, "It is obvious that you have not accepted your situation. Now go and prepare lunch for Nancy and me. Make sure you change into a clean maxi pad at 2pm and we will leave right after to go to the beauty parlor."

Nancy witnessed, notarized and took the forms to be filed with any state and federal authorities requiring them. Before I left the office, Nancy commented on how pretty and feminine I looked and noted it was just remarkable how I had changed.

I realized that I was totally beaten and so did Rita. She would take steps to correct my attitude some time in the future.

I prepared their lunch and had my usual yogurt and water. I made sure I started my pad change a little early, as I now knew how long it would take.

1950s HAIRDO

It was time to leave to get my new hairdo and Mary went along with us. I checked my purse to make sure I had makeup, plenty of pads etc. Before leaving, Mary said to bring my pillbox hat and wear my gloves. Also she gave me a couple of hatpins for my purse. It was terribly hot outside (95 degrees) and I wondered how I would survive with all the layers of nylon, and other feminine items I was wearing. When we got to the car, Mary opened the door to the back seat for me. She said she wanted me to feel like a lady, and she reminded me to be careful not to wrinkle my skirt getting in. Mary and Rita sat up front.

At this point I was staring down at my pink skirt, and petticoats peeking out from below the hem. I suddenly realized that this would be my first time out in public dressed in a feminine manner. Suddenly a rush of emotions flooded over me. I started to cry and could not understand why. I had never cried before. Mary reached back and patted my knee, and said it would be all right. I reached in my purse for my lace hanky to blot the tears away. I heard Rita say to Mary that she believed that the hormones were working on me.

When we arrived at the beauty parlor, Mary reminded me to check my eye makeup as the tears may have caused it to run. I opened my compact mirror and she was correct. I took a few minutes to correct the problem while Rita and Mary waited patiently. We entered the hair salon and were taken back by a middle-aged woman who introduced herself as Pat. All the other women in the salon including the workers were dressed in pants. I felt uncomfortable in that I was dressed so extravagantly. Everyone looked at me.

I was seated in a chair and Pat asked Rita what she preferred for me. Rita began looking through books that showed retro hairstyles. My hair is kind of sandy blond and I had always kept it long even before my feminization, and Rita had never let me cut it since. It was down to my shoulders now. Rita showed me a picture of an actress named June Allison and asked me if I thought her hairdo was pretty? Her hair was shoulder length with curls and waves all around along with bangs in front. I just shrugged my shoulders, as it really didn't matter what I thought. Rita told Pat, "That’s the one we want."

Pat said that we would do a wash, rinse and trim first, then a permanent wave followed by putting it in curlers and rollers and a half hour under the dryer. In total it should take a couple of hours. Pat asked Rita if they should do a manicure as well. Rita said yes, and to put on pale pink polish. Mary asked Pat how long would it take before they put my hair up in curlers? Pat said wash, rinse, trim and chemicals takes about an hour and then my hair would be put up. Rita and Mary said they were going to go someplace for a drink and would be back in an hour. Mary needed to see my hair being put up so she could teach it to me.

While they were washing my hair, the manicurist started on my nails. Filing, shaping, polishing and finally sealing, I couldn't believe how they looked. I was cautioned not to clip them or bite them. They were short now, but would grow to be very beautiful. Rita and Mary returned just in time to see my hair put in curlers. I hated the smell of the permanent wave solution, but I was told it would lock in my curls for about 5 days. Mary watched closely as they curled my hair. She was given a handout with written instructions as well.

Just before going under the dryer, I realized that my pad was wet and asked to use the restroom. What a pain this was, and I thought I could never get used to this and that going out in public was going to be a problem for me. I went through all the pain of changing my pad, checking my clothing and stocking seams, and makeup and returned. After my hair had dried, I went to comb it out and was done. I looked in a mirror. It was amazing that I really looked like a woman, from head to toe. Before we left, Mary showed me how to put on my hat and use hat pins to keep it in place. Then she pulled the facial netting over my face. She commented that I looked so much like a lady. I was over-heating and Rita and Mary were wearing shorts. I thought it was so unfair to dress me this way.

We went home and Rita commended me on my behavior. When we got home, Rita told me that Mary would begin teaching me all the womanly things I needed to know. How to sit, stand, walk, and just how to move and act like a lady. Also I must keep my knees and ankles together when I sit! No more man-spread! I would also learn how to curtsy as she expected me to greet everyone with a proper curtsy. She said it is a way for a lady to show proper respect to her bettors.

I began preparing dinner and cleaned up afterward. From now on I had to wear rubber gloves to keep my hands and nails pretty. Afterward I got myself in a negligee and it felt so good to get out of that bra, girdle, shoes and have my rear plug removed. I put on my sanitary belt and pad and Mary reminded me to check my outfit schedule for the next day. She said I should note my nail color. It was red for tomorrow, so Mary showed me how to take off the old polish and apply the new color. I did as told, and Mary told me to paint my toenails as well. After it dried, Mary showed me how to put on a nighttime bonnet to protect my hairdo. Of course it matched my negligee. I went to bed after my hormone injection. I was totally exhausted.


After about a week my curls were not holding as well and Mary said from now on I would be putting my hair up at night before bedtime. She demonstrated how to apply the curlers and rollers and where they should be placed. I also used a styling gel to hold everything in place. Then I went under a dryer bonnet for a half hour, while I did my nails for the next day. This would now be part of all the things I had to do. It was all overwhelming. I also had to learn to sleep in curlers and a bonnet every night. It felt like bob wire. Mary began teaching me how to properly curtsy and to act as a lady. When I made an error, I was immediately corrected. When I entered a room where there was another person, I was required to curtsy and curtsy again when leaving. I was doing about fifty curtsies per day.

I was really struggling with all I had to do, but it filled my day. When I had a moment's rest, it was filled with sewing, crochet and needlepoint. Then ironing and laundry, and the every two-hour bathroom visits to take care of my sanitary needs.


Then I had my doctor visits, and Betty, my psychologist, felt I was making some progress toward acceptance. On one visit, Betty asked if I had any complaints I would like to express to Rita? I asked a number of questions and made many complaints.

I asked Rita if I could wear regular bras instead of the underwire? Rita said that the underwire bras give me a more well defined bust and prettier breast presentation. I asked if I could get some relief from wearing girdles every day? Rita said that she wanted me in girdles so I can present a proper posture and pretty figure.

I asked if I could wear flat shoes occasionally? Rita told me that high heels were appropriate for the elegant dresses I was always in. I requested that my hairstyle be changed to straight hair? Rita reminded me that I was presenting myself as a 1950's lady, and that 1950's ladies always had extravagant curly hairstyles.

Finally I noted that no woman I see wears dresses and skirts anymore and since I was always required to be in dresses and skirts, could I please wear slacks occasionally at home? Rita said that in the 1950s women wore dresses and skirts, and besides she never wanted me in slacks as it might remind me of my former male lifestyle. I would always be in dresses and skirts. In other words all my requests were turned down. Rita was just unmovable. After this, I went home pretty depressed and cried quite a bit (hormones I guess).


One morning I got up and went to pee and change my pad, and noticed that when I urinated it burned greatly. I told Rita and she took my temperature. I was running a slight fever so she called the doctor. The doctor told her to get me ready without my rear plug and bring me in to be examined. She would have the urologist standing by. I of course had to dress as usual and Rita drove me to the doctor. Upon entering, I curtsied to the receptionist and went to the waiting room. When I entered, I curtsied again and sat down. The women in the waiting room looked at me strangely but appreciated the gesture. Rita was pleased.

Finally I was called in to see the doctor and was brought to room 6 as usual. I undressed and my feet were put in the stirrups and my wrists were strapped down and I was blindfolded. The doctor removed my chastity sleeve, as I heard the urologist enter. The urologist stuck a tube up my penis with a light while the nurse took a sample of my urine to be examined. After waiting for the results of the tests, the doctor said I indeed had a urinary tract infection. She said she would give me antibiotics to clear it up, but that it would keep happening if something were not changed with my penis. The doctor spoke to Rita and not me and explained the issue. She explained in a way that was easy to understand. She said the urinary tract in a penis is like a garden hose. When it is new, you can easily bend it in a 90-degree direction and water can flow through. But if you keep the hose bent continuously for a long time the hose fibers will weaken and it will begin to kink, blocking water flow. For about a year now my penis has been bent down between my legs and it has weakened my urethra. When there is pressure from semen or urine in my bladder, it is forced open to allow it to drain. But since it is weak, it closes up before all the urine or semen drains and trace amounts sit in my urethra causing bacteria to grow.

As I lay there listening, I realized that Rita was going to have to let my penis hang normally and I may be relieved from the plug in my anus. Relief finally! The doctor continued, saying she has seen this many times in men locked in chastity. The penis is in an unnatural position and needs relief or some way to keep the urethra open. Rita was then told she had two choices:

  1. Allow my penis to be unchained from between my legs and remove the plug from my anus. The plug must be removed since it causes semen to drain all day from my prostate. Leaving it in would not allow my maxi pad to catch the drainage. It would be all over the place. I thought that I was perhaps not going to have to wear a pad anymore. I was getting kind of giddy. Rita told the doctor that my Prostate had to be milked to keep it healthy, but she did not have the time or inclination to do it manually on a regular basis.
  2. The manufacturers of chastity devices have realized that this is a problem for many men in either long term or permanent chastity, and they have produced attachments to correct the problem. The particular device you are using has a metal cap that attaches to the metal sleeve and goes over the head of the penis. A synthetic tube is attached to the cap and is kept inserted in the penis just up to the prostate gland, thereby keeping the urethra open. It's kind of a full time partial catheterization. That way you can keep Priscilla in chastity and her penis between her legs. She can remain plugged and will continue to self-milk herself.

My heart sank while Rita was very pleased. Now I would not even be able to see or touch the head of my penis. I was fitted with the device and all of it was riveted in place. Rita had brought along my prostate massager and it was inserted in my anus, inflated and locked.

I was released from the examination table and stirrups and allowed to get dressed. Of course I had to put on a clean pad. I got dressed and checked myself out as far as my appearance, (stockings, petticoats, makeup, hairdo etc.). I curtsied to the doctors and nurses and Rita and I left. On the way home Rita stopped at a pharmacy to pick up my antibiotics. While I waited in the car, I thought: why not open the car door and just escape? It would be easy to do. But I knew it would not work. I was trapped and knew there was no hope. I began to cry and got my lace hanky out of my purse to dry my tears.

Rita returned and saw me crying and hugged me and told me everything would be alright once I learn to accept my situation and station in life. She commented that the hormones must have been working as I had cried quite a bit lately. We returned home and Rita must have felt sorry for me as she told me to relax the rest of the day until the antibiotics helped me feel better.


As time went by, I think Rita was getting a little impatient with my body's development. In particular my breasts. She would constantly ask Mary if I was still having to pad my bra to get up to a DD cup? Mary told her yes and that she estimated that I was now a large C cup and had been for some time. My gynecologist appointment was coming up and Rita said she would speak to the doctor, since she regulated my hormones.

When we got to the doctors office, I was dressed as pretty as ever and did my greeting curtsy and waited to be seen. As usual I went through the same routines in room 6: undress and place myself on the table, in stirrups with wrists strapped down and a blindfold. My penis was released from its chastity prison. I was still having erection attempts but they were decreasing regularly. I was given a new chastity device with the new penile tube and cap. I was also given a mammogram and blood was drawn for analysis.

The doctor told Rita that my hormone levels were good. I was allowed to get dressed and went through that long process. The nurse then told me to come into the doctor’s office to meet with Rita and the doctor. I entered and immediately curtsied and sat down like a lady should with my knees and ankles together and hands neatly folded in my lap. The doctor and Rita were both happy with my behavior.

At this time Rita asked about my breast development? The doctor confirmed that I was indeed a large C cup. She did not believe that my breasts would get any larger. Rita told her that she wanted me to eventually be a DD cup. The doctor told Rita that if she wanted to, breast implants could easily be performed and I would be a DD.

Rita told the doctor that she preferred that I have totally real female breasts. The weight and bounce of real breasts is different from implants. The doctor agreed. Then the doctor said that my breast growth was dependent on many factors. Hormones, both male and female. At present they were giving me male hormone blockers. These are pretty effective, but are not completely effective as testosterone is a very powerful male hormone to try to totally overcome. The only sure way to get my breasts to continue to get larger was to eliminate the male hormones from my body completely.

I did not like the way this conversation was going, but kept quiet as I realized I had no control in this. Rita asked the doctor if she was talking about castration? The doctor said yes. Rita said she has been thinking about this for some time now, as my attitude has not improved as to total acceptance of my situation.

I blurted out that I would change my attitude, and begged not to be castrated. Rita ordered me to be quiet. Rita asked, “when can Priscilla be scheduled to have her testicles removed?”

“First thing in the morning. It's best not to let Priscilla worry about this too long.” The doctor asked Rita if she wanted my scrotum maintained or have it removed. “It's best to maintain it if you ever decide to do a complete SRS. It is needed to create a vagina.”

Rita said she did not anticipate having an SRS done on me, but perhaps I should maintain the scrotum and keep that option open. The doctor told Rita that I would need two fake testicular implants installed in my scrotum to maintain it.

I was sobbing and Rita told me to go out and wait in the exam room. Rita talked to the doctor some more and then joined me. She had some papers for me to sign. She said I could either sign or not, but the surgery would be done anyway. The doctor just wanted my signature. I signed without even reading the documents, as Rita wanted. Rita told me that after the surgery in the morning, my breast growth hormones would be adjusted to get my breasts growing again.


The next morning Rita checked me into the hospital. I was extremely depressed. I was prepped for the surgery and taken away on a gurney. Rita assured me that everything would be ok. I woke up back in my hospital room. I was in a bed that had stirrups and my feet were strapped into them. My gynecologist was there and so were Rita and Mary. The doctor told me that my wrists were in straps so I could not leave my bed and certainly not touch my genitals and that my legs would remain in the stirrups for the remainder of my hospitalization. She just wanted to be assured that I healed ok from the incisions. There was a huge pad between my legs to absorb any blood. I was thankful that my rear was not plugged, and the doctor said my chastity was not on my penis as I had a Foley catheter in, and I couldn’t get out of bed. The doctor told me that Rita wanted to tell me something. Rita started to congratulate me on my castration. She said the testicles were just interfering with my body’s feminization and perhaps my mind as well. Maybe now you can learn to accept your new life better. Over the last year or so I have tried to emasculate you in every way I could think of, but you continue to resist accepting your new station in life. Perhaps the castration will help you along.


Rita continued: As regards your surgery, I had something installed on you that you cannot remove. It is a scrotal ring made of titanium steel. It is about the size of a quarter outside and a nickel inside. It is loose enough for your blood to circulate into and out of your scrotum, but can't be removed as your testicular implants assure it will stay in place. The interesting thing about this ring is that when you move, it makes a tinkling sound. It is loud enough for you and others around to hear it tinkle. If you had read the document you signed, you would have seen it mentioned there. The bells are sealed inside the ring.

I looked at Rita and asked her, “why would you do that to me?”

She said that she needed something that would constantly emasculate me all the time. This will be a constant reminder to you and those around you that you are a castrated person. Rita said, “I only took this action because of my failure to accept my womanhood. The ring will stay on so that you cannot revert back to your old attitude. I really care about you and I think this is best for you. I understand that this will assure you stay housebound, but that is what I want for you anyway.”

Rita kissed me goodbye and she and Mary left. The doctor asked if I was feeling any pain and I said I would prefer to be left alone. I think they understood. The nurse gave me a box of tissues as she realized I was going to cry.

I was confined to my hospital bed for 3 days and 2 nights. During this time, my feet and ankles were strapped in the stirrups and my wrists were strapped down. Rita had requested this as she did not want me to be able to see or touch my penis as it was not in its chastity. During this time I received 2 enemas from the nurses and had to be hand fed when I ate. Either Rita or Mary came in to do this.

Before my release my chastity was once again attached between my legs and my Foley catheter was removed. The short catheter was reapplied to my penis and the anal device was returned to my rectum, inflated and locked. Before my hands were released from my restraints, Mary came in to wash my hair and put it in curlers. She said it was a mess. Once she had made my hair presentable, my hands were released and my ankles were released from the stirrups and I was allowed to get out of bed. As I moved around, I could hear the tinkling between my legs. The nurse in the room started to laugh, but stopped herself. Rita and Mary arrived to take me home. They had brought my outfit for the day and Mary helped me dress and do my makeup. I was still a little sore between my legs, but the doctor assured me that I was healing nicely. I walked across the room in 4-inch heels and tried to rustle my petticoats to hide the tinkling sound between my legs. It was no use as you could still hear it.

When I left the room, the doctor and nurses who had attended me were all there. Rita looked at me in a stern manner, so I turned and thanked them all and gave them a curtsy. Rita was pleased. The doctor said we will see you on your next checkup and hopefully we will see some additional breast growth.

As the days and weeks passed I listened constantly to the tinkling between my legs and just hated it. I was totally emasculated as Rita had guessed. Mary was using less and less padding in my bras, as it seemed I was getting closer to Rita's goal.


Finally one day Mary told Rita that I had filled my DD bra without any padding. Rita smiled and gave me a big hug. My next appointment with the gynecologist confirmed that I was indeed a full DD cup. The doctor adjusted my breast growth hormones so I wouldn't get any bigger. In the days and weeks ahead I could feel the difference in weight and bounce of my breasts. Rita said that my daily wearing girdles should help with my back support and girly posture. I had to be very careful with my curtsies as I was kind of top heavy. I could actually fall over Mary told me, especially if I had on higher than 4 inch heels. Rita had graduated me to 5 and 6-inch heels quite often, and of course I always tinkled when I walked. I hated it.

A visit to my psychologist confirmed that she felt that my constant emasculation was forcing me to accept my womanhood. I asked Rita if I could stay in the house all the time as I was so emasculated and embarrassed. She said that I could, except for doctors and beauty parlor appointments. There may be other occasions where I might need to venture out, but they should be very few. I was housebound by my own wishes.


About 4 months later, Rita informed me that she was going to have surgery. She would be gone for a few days, but Mary and her friend Nancy would be taking care of my needs and making sure I was being a good and proper lady. I asked her what kind of surgery she was having? She told me she had decided to have a double mastectomy. I was shocked as she had beautiful C cup breasts. She told me that she did not have cancer or anything, but she was tired of having to wear bras. Also she said that breast cancer ran in her family and she wanted to avoid that. She joked that my breasts were large enough for both of us. It made me think of her friend Nancy who I had always thought of as flat chested. Now Rita would be the same way. I wished that I could have my breasts removed as well, but Rita loved my large breasts and I knew she would never allow it. She got great satisfaction from seeing my breast line and hearing me complain about my underwire bras.


At my next gynecological appointment, the doctor removed my chastity as usual and hooked the sleeve up to her computer and said that in the last three months I had not had any erection attempts at all. Rita was thrilled. The doctor said we should wait another three months to see if indeed I would remain impotent. Sure enough, three months later the doctor pronounced me as totally impotent. Rita was so happy that she wanted to take me out to celebrate, but I begged off due to the cursed bells between my legs. Instead Rita and Nancy went out and celebrated.

Now not even my penis worked anymore. Something would happen however about six months later that changed everything. I was still in chastity and would continue to be. When I was in the shower and in bed at night, I would rub and fondle my breasts. It made me feel good and I would get a little excited.


On my next gynecological visit, the doctor was not going to check me for erection attempts, but did so to again confirm my impotence. To her surprise, I was having about two erection attempts a day. The doctor consulted with her peers, as this was unusual. Rita was very upset at my setback. After consulting with her peers, she asked me if I had been fondling my breasts when I was not wearing a bra. The time stamps on the erection attempts indicated times when I might be braless.

I admitted that I was and that it made me feel good. At this point the doctor explained what she thought was happening. She told Rita that when many women fondle their breasts, their vaginas would begin to lubricate. This is natural, as their bodies believe that sexual intercourse would soon follow. I am fondling my breasts and since I don't have a vagina, my penis is trying to get an erection, which is stopped by my chastity.

Rita commented, "you fix one thing and another issue pops up." She asked what could be done to stop it. She did not want me doing that at all.

The doctor found how this was dealt with in the past for people like me and said that my estrogen hormone levels could be increased. Women on their menstrual cycles do not fondle their breasts because at that time their breasts are sore and sensitive to the touch. The nurse and Rita agreed as this happened to them on their cycles. If we give Priscilla an increase of estrogen, it will simulate a menstrual cycle in me and I will stop fondling my breasts, thereby rendering me impotent again.

The doctor said that there would be consequences for me. I would need to have my mammogram every 3 months as an increase of estrogen can in some rare cases cause breast cysts or possibly a tumor. “Also, Priscilla's body will experience some of the things women experience on their menstrual cycles.”

Rita asked, “What that might be?”

“Headaches, hot and cold flashes, nausea and of course breast tenderness. I don't believe Priscilla will experience cramping, as she does not have a uterus. The problem,” the doctor said, “would be that Priscilla will experience this constantly whereas a biological woman only experiences this a couple of days a month. And never after menopause. Priscilla will never experience menopause, so if she is given extra estrogen for the rest of her life, she will experience these things. But she should remain impotent.”

Rita did not hesitate for a moment, as she ordered the increase in estrogen for me. The doctor told me if I was feeling bad with symptoms of a menstrual cycle, to take Midol to help me through it.

The increase in estrogen certainly did the trick on me and made Rita very happy. My breasts were always tender and I often experienced hot flashes and headaches. It seemed that I took Midol every day. I suffered with the underwire bras even more now. There was no relief it seemed. I was wearing maxi pads both everyday and at night. Semen was coming out of my body all day into my pad and at night lubrication drained into my old fashion sanitary pads from my rectum. I was always in underwire bras for my large breasts, and tight high waist open bottom girdles along with seamed stockings. Sometimes the girdles were replaced with a one-piece body slimmer, which were combination girdles, and underwire bras. They were so hot and restrictive. Always in dresses and skirts and petticoats with four to seven inch heels during the day. To top all that off I had to continually hear the hated tinkling between my legs, and was experiencing daily symptoms of a woman on her period.

Also the added estrogen seemed to make my hair grow faster. It has reached down to my shoulder blades and Rita won't let me get it cut shorter. You may have guessed that it takes longer each day to care for it. Putting it in curlers at night is quite a production. It is beautiful but a lot of trouble. As Rita says, "just another thing we women have to deal with".

Just when I thought life couldn't get any worse for me, something happened that totally unnerved me.


During an appointment with the gynecologist, they found a lump in one of my breasts during the mammogram. The follow up surgery found that the lump was not malignant and it was removed safely. I was kind of traumatized by the whole thing. Rita and the doctor told me that this often happens, especially in large breasted women. For this reason, it's important to do self-breast exams every time I take a shower. Rita admitted that perhaps her obsession with me having large breasts, may have gone a little far, but on the other hand, I was getting to see what women have to deal with in their bodies. I was certainly seeing and having sympathy with women on their periods and with large breasts, especially women during the 1950s. I often lie in bed at night and wish this were all a bad dream.

On more than one occasion, I recall begging Rita, to change my circumstances. Please let me dress as a modern woman? Allow me to at least have breast reduction surgery. Take the bells off my genitals. She was always unmoved. I had no hope of relief. I cried myself to sleep on many nights. I was in a deep depression. Rita realized this and increased my appointments with the gender psychologist.

My psychologist (Betty) could see that I was in a major depression and through consultation with a psychiatrist, had me put on antidepressants. I did not like taking them, but Rita insisted. They slowed me down and actually made my busy life harder to deal with. The clothes, sanitary routines and beauty regimens were even more difficult than before. They did seem to however remove that dark cloud I had over me. We had appointments with Betty weekly. Although Betty seemed to sympathize with my situation, I sensed that she liked what Rita had made of me and always supported Rita when we had differences of thought. Rita of course was concerned about my depression and was afraid that I might try to hurt myself. I guess I was really changing as I had pretty much accepted my situation in life. I knew now that I would grow old and die as a 1950s woman.

After about a year of psychotherapy and antidepressants, I was doing much better. I came off the anti depressants and didn't see Betty as often.


Following my getting a lump in my breast and having the urinary tract infection, Rita seemed to be aware that some of the things she had done to my body, might have a negative effect on me. She really cared about me and wanted to keep me healthy. That concern resulted in Rita assembling a team of doctors to care for my needs. My gynecologist, urologist and gender psychologist stayed the same. I got a dentist, nephrologist (kidney), gastroenterologist (digestive), cardiologist (heart), podiatrist (feet) and neurologist (cognitive function). I was a patient of all these doctors. All were women except the podiatrist. We would visit all these doctors at least once a year and sometimes more. I know that Rita was spending quite a bit of money on my care, as the insurance didn't cover a great deal. She has plenty of money though and really wanted me to be healthy.

On one occasion I was having great pain in my left foot. One of my toes was turned down and would not straighten up. Rita took me to my podiatrist. The podiatrist examined me while Rita watched. Then the doctor said I had developed a hammertoe. This is not an uncommon condition in women who wear high heels and could be corrected with a simple surgery. Then the doctor looked at Rita and questioned her about her reasons for feminizing me. He asked her why she would not let me wear flat shoes? The doctor told Rita that what she had done to me was criminal and he scolded her about it. Rita was infuriated and took me home. The next day I had a new podiatrist (a woman). Rita said she would never let me see a male doctor again. The simple surgery corrected the hammertoe and I was back in heels again in a couple of days.

When I had my appointment with the gastroenterologist, she recommended that I have a colonoscopy every year as this could identify any problems that might come up early due to my prostate stimulator locked in my rectum every day.

I would also have a complete physical every year as well.

So it is with lots of doctor’s visits and trips to the hair and beauty salon. It did not seem that I went out for anything else.


On one of our last appointments, Rita talked a lot about herself and her life. Betty asked her about having a double mastectomy? Rita said she had always hated having breasts and was jealous of men not having to deal with breasts and monthly periods. A light went on for me as these are the things she had forced me into and made and am making me suffer with. Then she dropped a bombshell, by telling me that she felt she had always had leanings toward being a lesbian. I acted shocked, but inside, I think I realized it long ago.

She went on and told me that she had decided to do something about it. She looked into my watering eyes and took my hand and told me she had decided to divorce me. But only on the condition that the court names her as my permanent guardian. In that way all the documents that I had signed years before giving Rita total power of attorney over my life would remain in force for the rest of my life. She also was going to name her close friend Nancy as an alternate guardian over me. In that way if Rita were to die before me, I could be looked after. Nancy would be moving into the house with us as well. I realized that Rita and Nancy were in a closer relationship than I thought. In fact they would share the same bedroom together. I burst into tears, but soon realized that Rita cared about my future and didn't want me to be kicked out into the world to my demise.

Rita later informed me that she would be finalizing the divorce the next day and that I would have to appear before a judge in open court to testify. I was a housebound feminized male (I guess) that has never appeared in such a public place. I was petrified. Rita picked an outfit for me to wear that portrayed me in an ultra feminine way. A white with pink polka-dot dress and pink seven inch heels. A large amount of perfume assured that the judge could smell my fragrance.

When in court, I was called to the stand and I curtsied to the judge and rustled my petticoats as much as possible to try to mask the sound of the bells on my scrotum. Fortunately the judge (a man) was amused at me and asked me to take a seat. He asked me to state my name. I said Priscilla Louise X. He asked if I ever used my former male name and I told him no. He asked me to relate everything that has happened to me to get me to the state I am in?

I tried to relate most everything I have written in this account. The gallery in the courtroom was stunned and laughed a lot, especially the women. He asked Rita why she had ordered that bells be put on my scrotum? She told him that she wanted to assure that I stay housebound, because out in the world I would be in danger of either being beaten up or even murdered by someone who hated transgendered people.

The judge agreed that this was a protection for me. The judge agreed that there are hundreds of thousands of transgender women beaten and killed every year. The judge sympathized with my situation and realized I could not make it on my own and that I could never go back to being a man. He ordered Rita and Nancy to be my guardians and that they remain so for the duration of my life. All the documents I signed years ago would remain in force. I curtsied to the judge and left the courtroom.

My fate had finally been sealed for good. I hoped that perhaps Rita might consider SRS surgery for me at some time in the future, but I was not hopeful of that.

I have now been in female clothing and dealing with breasts, periods and such for about 11 and 1/2 years. I am approaching middle age and see no change ahead. Rita and Nancy have kept Mary on part time to assist me when needed. Rita and Nancy oversee my forced womanhood and I have found that Nancy can be a bit stricter at times. I overhear their conversations and Nancy has been pushing her to consider some new types of clothing for me. It gave me some hope that I might get relief from my 1950s outfits, until I realized she was meaning perhaps some Victorian or southern belle costumes. So far Rita has decided to keep things as they are. If Nancy gets full charge of me, my suffering may be increased.


As the years have rolled by, I have settled into my feminine routine. I sleep about 8 hours a night. I am always dressed for bed in the most feminine negligees, all of which are floor length with matching panties. My hair is almost always up in curlers and rollers with a bonnet on to keep them in place. I always have on an old-fashioned maxi pad with a sanitary belt to keep it in place over my anus and genitals. As Rita's mother told her it does indeed feel like I always have a pillow between my legs.

I have an alarm that goes off at 2am so I can get up and change my maxi pad, which is soaked by then. I usually sleep pretty well except that I often have hot flashes and if I turn over on my chest, it becomes uncomfortable, as my breasts are always so sensitive to the touch. I don't touch them at all if possible. I have begged Rita to reduce my estrogen so I don't have to experience the symptoms of a menstrual cycle, but she will not do it. She says that the thing hanging between my legs is now dead, and she means to keep it that way. I promise to never fondle my breasts again, but she doesn't believe me. She says the extra estrogen is her insurance policy. So my sleep is reasonably good despite all I have to deal with. I am so exhausted after each day I could probably sleep anyway. I don't move much in bed as I have been warned not to mess up my hair curlers. I also stay pretty still, because the bell between my legs will wake me up. I guess I am well trained.

Before Rita feminized me, I was a decent athlete. I have not done anything athletic since, and really couldn't with the clothes I am required to be in all the time. If I tried to throw a ball, I probably couldn't as my coordination is shot due to the hormones over the years and I am so very weak. I need someone to open new jars most of the time. The muscle mass I used to have is now gone, all replaced by feminine curves. I used to be able to run quite a bit, but after having my feet in 4 inch or higher heels all the time, that would not be possible. Besides, you cannot run well in skirts, petticoats, girdles and pads. I can't even watch sports on TV. My recreation is limited to sewing. Over the years I have sewed several items for myself at Rita's direction. Full skirts and a couple of blouses. I don't have much time for sewing anyway as my days are full of housework, cooking and laundry etc.

I do get to watch some videos on TV dealing with various feminine things. Sewing, crocheting, needlepoint, makeup, cooking and glamour. I also get to read magazines on the same subjects.

On occasion Rita will invite me to watch a movie with her and Nancy in the den. They will always start the movie right after I have changed my pad, so I don't have to interrupt the movie. It is almost always a woman's movie. Possibly a love story and a tearjerker. I sit down and am given a box of tissues, as I get emotional easily. I sit and watch like the proper lady I have been trained to be, while Rita and Nancy recline in easy chairs. Usually before the movie ends, there is an emotional scene that will cause me to cry. I am so very sensitive that I can't help myself. Rita will pause the movie and allow me to collect myself before continuing. I know that seeing me break down like that gives Rita and Nancy great pleasure. They try to be sympathetic, but inside I believe it gives them some satisfaction.

I don't even know what is going on in the world. I realized that this is part of Rita's master plan to keep me uninformed and ignorant about anything un-feminine. I call it the dumbing down of Priscilla.

On one visit to my neurologist, the doctor told Rita that I was just fine, but I should on occasion be around other people. She said Rita could take me out to a movie or just shopping in a mall. I was terrified, as Rita knew I was conscious of the tinkling bell between my legs.

Rita and Nancy discussed it that evening and Nancy said that they could take me to someplace noisy, so it would be hard to hear my bells. Nancy said the county fair was going on and they could take me there.

Rita thought it was a great idea. The problem was that it was summertime and I never wore clothing suitable for very hot weather since I was almost always housebound. Rita looked through my wardrobe and decided on a dress I had never worn before. All my undergarments were the same, underwire bra, girdle, stockings, slip and petticoats. The yellow dress was sleeveless and could help me stay cool around my shoulders. My shoes were open toe 4-inch sandals. Rita would not give me any other breaks though. As on all other occasions I had to wear gloves and a hat. The hat had a large brim and great big yellow bows on it. The gloves were yellow as well. Rita and Nancy had on shorts and tee shirts.

We drove to the fair and started to walk around. I had changed my pad just before we left so I should be good for a couple of hours. The temperature was about 95 degrees outside, and I immediately noticed that the lack of ventilation to my body would make me perspire greatly. I was already feeling clammy. Rita wanted to get me on an amusement ride, but I begged off. She insisted on me riding the merry-go-round (carousel). I told her I could not straddle a horse with my pad and chastity sleeve on. She said a proper lady would ride sidesaddle. Nancy and Rita helped me onto a horse riding side saddle. Rita cautioned me to hold onto the bar with one hand and hold down my skirt and petticoats with the other, as they would fly up when the ride gets going.

Just before the ride started Rita produced two large hat-pins and pinned my hat to my head. We must not lose your beautiful hat. I couldn't enjoy the ride, as I was so preoccupied with my skirts and perspiring as I was. When the ride was over Rita and Nancy helped me down and we went to get lunch. Rita and Nancy had funnel cakes and sodas. Rita got me water and some fruit cocktails.

As we started to walk around, Rita noted that my petticoats had dipped below the hem of my skirt and told me to go to the ladies room and fix it. I went into a stall and did my sanitary business and came out to look in the mirror. Sure enough my petticoats were about 2 inches too low. I hiked up my petticoats and tried to pin them to my slip. I was so hot and miserable that I could have used extra hands. Suddenly a middle-aged woman came in and asked me if she could help? I thanked her and she said why didn't I just let them hang low until I got home or just take them off all together? Then I made a big mistake and told her my mistress won't allow that.

Then she heard the tinkling between my legs and she point-blank asked me if I was a man? I lowered my head and told her that I was a feminized man and I had to fix my petticoats. She asked if I had been feminized against my will and I told her that I had. She looked into my tear filled eyes and put her arms around me and gave me a big hug. She said that she felt so sorry for me. Women, she said, were brought up to deal with femininity, but it is foreign to men and it must be quite a struggle for me. I acknowledged her point.

At that point she held up my skirt and waited while I pinned my petticoats in place. She said she was a social worker and had encountered sissy men on many occasions, but men living in forced womanhood is not too common. We left the ladies room together and I introduced her to Rita and Nancy.

I told Rita that Gwen had guessed I was a feminized male. Gwen said that she had had some experience with trans women and that in this part of town it could be dangerous for me. Just last week, 2 trans women were badly beaten. She said that I should never be left alone. Gwen advised her that I should always have a chaperone when out since it would be easy for a predator to spot me the way I am dressed and the tinkling between my legs.

Rita thanked her for the note of caution and we got ready to go home. Before leaving I thanked Gwen for all her help and advice and curtsied to her. She said I was as pretty as I could be and encouraged me to stay safe and obey Rita. My petticoats were hanging correctly, but I was terrified about what Gwen had said. On the way home Rita said that I had better never leave the house without a chaperone. I was so glad that I had never taken an opportunity to escape Rita's hold on me.

By the time we got home, it was late and my breasts were killing me. When I took off my perspiration soaked bra, I had red rashes under my breasts. Rita called the doctor who prescribed a cream to clear it up. She said it would take a day or two. I was not to wear a bra for two days. The next two days Rita let me stay in my negligee all the time.

Rita told me that now she realizes just how feminine and fragile I have become. She would try to be more sensitive to my feelings when going out in public. Your femininity is really restricting you and that is a good thing.


Hello. I'm Rita. I have decided that since I asked Priscilla to write this account of her feminization, I should contribute my thoughts as well. As you have learned, Priscilla is now my dependent and was once my husband. I instructed her to not give her former male name throughout this account, as that person no longer exists. 

When I decided to feminize her, I was angry at her infidelity and at first wanted to punish her and to make her suffer. Soon after I began, I realized that revenge was wrong, but found that I got great satisfaction in seeing her try to deal with becoming a woman and the challenges it presents. I loved seeing her struggle with the clothing and beauty requirements and especially with the sanitary needs. I could have made it easy on her by not requiring her to wear pads all the time, but wanted her to know what women go through on their periods. Originally I had planned this to be once a month, but realized by having it be a full time requirement, it forced her to stay in the home all the time. 

Let me say right off that Priscilla's health is of utmost importance to me. That is why she has so many doctors appointments. When she had a lump in her breast, it upset me greatly. I don't want to hurt her, but I do expect obedience. We are constantly monitoring her breasts and hormone levels, blood levels (PSA) to keep her in the best health possible. Doctors believe she can live to a nice old age.

When we started out, I decided to have her voice changed first as this would immediately force her to be housebound and she of course could never get rid of her female voice. Doctors told me it was irreversible as you can only shorten vocal cords and never lengthen them. She was locked in immediately. 

The selection of the 1950s clothing was calculated to make her stand out in public and further cause her to remain housebound. The girdles, underwire bras, petticoats and high heels were all designed to cause maximum emasculation and discomfort for her. This along with her constant discharge from her locked up penis and lubed anus, assured complete reliance on maxi pads and feminine practices. I have never wavered on these requirements for her. 

Also, by requiring large breasts, it's another form of emasculation. Her eventual castration and increase in estrogen has further emasculated her and by installing the bell on her scrotum, she experiences emasculation with every movement. 

Today she deals with her feminization and womanhood the best she can. I have made her totally sexless, as she is completely impotent and cannot experience female sex as well. This is one reason I have never allowed her to have SRS surgery. 

The only way I would have allowed her the SRS surgery would be if doctors could have transplanted a uterus in her so she could be artificially impregnated. I have read in medical journals that this has been experimented with and medical science so far has not made it happen. 

Her raised levels of hormones cause her to continually experience symptoms of a menstrual cycle like headaches, hot flashes nausea and breast tenderness. When these affect her I try to comfort her, but inside I feel great satisfaction, as she tries to cope. 

Recently Priscilla's co-guardian and my best friend Nancy mentioned that Priscilla could possibly be induced to lactate, as she has female breasts and mammary glands. I spoke to her gynecologist about this and she agreed it could be done, with the correct mix of hormones and diligent breast pumping. She says she has done it before and with Priscilla's breasts she could nurse more than one baby easily. We have several young women in the law firm who want children, but don't want to put their careers on hold just to nurse children. I am seriously considering having Priscilla become a wet nurse. She could earn good money doing this and contribute to our household. Of course her breasts could possibly become a bit larger during this time, so we may have to invest in larger nursing bras. When she reads this, I am sure it will hit her pretty hard. 

I am always looking for new ways to increase Priscilla's femininity. Her doctor's are on notice that if anything new comes up, I would be interested. For now I am happy with her progress and femininity. It is so cute to watch her curtsy whenever she greets someone or enters and leaves a room. It's not easy to curtsy in four-inch-plus heels, but she has become quite adept at it.

At one time Priscilla was very defiant and would not accept her forced womanhood, but in recent years she has realized that what happens to her is inevitable and to make the best of it.

Going forward, I have decided she will live out the remainder of her life in this manner, and I take great pride in her feminization. She is all girl and will remain that way!


I have just read Rita's comments above. As you can imagine I am pretty shook up. This is the first I have heard about becoming a wet nurse. I will of course beg Rita not to do this to me. I would feel like a cow. I will beg, but Rita will always do as she pleases with me as long as it does not damage my health. My only hope is that the doctors won't be able to bring me into lactation.

I have been getting hormone injections daily since my visit to Thailand, but my gynecologist told Rita on a recent visit that she was uncomfortable with this as there is a risk of blood clots. She told Rita that she wanted to switch me to hormone patches. I would be given 4 patches every month (one every 7 days). The patch should be placed between my navel and my penis on my lower stomach. This is a safer method as the hormones are delivered to my bloodstream at a continuous level all day long. They are also more effective that way as well.

For some time Rita has wanted me on high estrogen to simulate a menstrual cycle and prevent me from fondling my breasts. These continuous high estrogen levels are causing the doctor uneasiness. She wants me on normal estrogen levels for three weeks and the fourth week on a raised estrogen level to cause a one week menstrual cycle, more like a real woman. Rita was concerned that I might start fondling my breasts again and ruin my impotence.

The doctor said that the primary side effect of the use of patches is breast tenderness. Rita thought about it and agreed to try it, with my health her main concern. I went on the patch from then on and as the doctor said, my breasts still were tender and for one week a month I experienced symptoms of a woman’s period, like headaches, hot and cold flashes and nausea.

The patches are applied by Rita weekly and always stay on a full week before being replaced by a new one. On the fourth week I get a patch with higher estrogen levels. Since I wear a girdle every day, the patch is always tight against my skin and very effective. I was warned never to try to remove the patch and mess up my hormone therapy, as it could be very dangerous for my health. I realize that to stay healthy, I need a steady level of hormones in my bloodstream. Unfortunately I only get female hormones and never male hormones. Also I have remained totally impotent, which makes Rita happy. Also Rita is pleased that she doesn't have to give me a shot everyday.

As has been the case all along with my feminization, I have not seen or felt my penis. It is always entombed in its metal prison. When I shower, I can see and touch the metal sleeve pulled down between my legs. Over the years, the doctor has repeatedly changed the size of my sleeve to accommodate the shrinkage of my penis. Looking at it now, it is probably the size of my thumb. The only thing that my penis is good for now is as a means to allow me to drain the urine from my bladder and for the semen (minus any sperm) to drip from it into my maxi pads. It is the size of a small boy's penis. The hormones have taken their toll on my one time manhood.

One thing I forgot to mention at the beginning of this account is that Rita required me to keep a diary from the day I signed away my rights. I was expected to write down everything noteworthy about my life changes. That is why I can be so detailed in writing this account. I have left some things out, as this would be much longer.

In summation of this account, I have realized that long ago if I had taken the opportunity to let Rita divorce me in the beginning, I may be much worse off than I am today. I had no skills to speak of, no higher education, no assets or money. If I would have found someone to marry me, I would have been fortunate, but that would have been a long shot. I probably would have wandered aimlessly for years and perhaps got hooked on either drugs or alcohol. Rita has stolen my masculinity and replaced it with ultimate femininity. All the years of my feminization have been difficult and continue to be so. All in all, Rita may have saved me from a terrible life with a tragic end. Sure I am subservient to Rita and Nancy, and I can't go out in public, by my own choice, but I have a roof over my head, food to eat, great health care and a beautiful wardrobe that to this day I am still exploring. My life is extremely difficult and will continue to be so, but looking back, it could have been worse.

I know this account is kind of long, but I have condensed it, if you can believe that. It covers about twelve years of my forced feminization and never out of skirts and dresses for eleven and half years. There are numerous things not mentioned here like having my teeth redone to look more feminine when I smile. I don't smile very much though, but perhaps in the future I will learn to enjoy my life more.

Also not mentioned here is the pain I had to endure after my chastity sleeve was installed. Every time I had an attempted erection, it was extremely painful. I had many erection attempts especially after I began wearing feminine clothing. I guess it excited me a little even though it has been stressful and difficult. I finally got relief when I became impotent, although the hormones causing my breast tenderness and symptoms of a menstrual cycle are almost as difficult.

In summation, this account is not only about my total and complete feminization, but is also about my former wife and now guardian Rita. It is a testament to her strength, power and intelligence in finding a way to make me what she wanted me to become: totally dependent on her for everything.

She now has my total respect and obedience.

As I sit here writing this account, I look out the window in my sewing space and realize that I will live this way for the rest of my life. I am not unhappy as I once was before, because I have accepted the inevitable. The cars go by on the road and I wonder what people are doing out there in the great big world. I can only wonder, because my world is in this house along with my forced feminization and womanhood. Oh no! My pad is soaked and I need to pee. And so it goes…


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