"Thank you, I know I need a firm hand these days, I can be such a sissy bitch. You called this the 'whole story', but truth be told, this wild one way trip was only beginning...
“Well anyway, breakfast goes as you might expect; I'm already used to serving them, and wearing my costume of femininity for Derrick while doing so too. If it doesn't feel natural, it at least feels more natural than it did the first day, the precedent set and all of that. If Derrick's so confident in his masculinity though, why demote and degrade me so in his presence, dress me in submissive feminine attire? It's an odd question, but one that gnaws at my intellect now that I have the time to think, instead of reflexively reacting to Derrick's veiled threats. Perhaps this is as Beth had said herself the night before, for my benefit, so that I can have the proper submissive frame of mind going forward.
“Derrick IS smugly content with himself though, obviously pleased physically after bedding my sexy wife for hours on end. I know that feeling, I had similar feelings myself, early on, back while we were still dating, when taking her home after club dancing, but without the sex part. He lets me know this silently though, he's just scored the winning touchdown, actually a whole bunch of them, with the homecoming queen, my homecoming queen.
“Beth is nearly silent the whole time, like she's deep in thought, working on some problem in the back of her mind while on autopilot herself. I have seen this routine before with her; despite her stunning outward appearance, there is a lot going on in her pretty little head. It's one of the many things that bothers me about all this, Derrick is a brute, and I can't imagine him to be a deep thinker at all, although this too could be projection, applying the traits to him that I would like him NOT to have. A successful, strong, confident, well hung, ignorant brute, that somehow managed to snag my highly desirable wife from right under my nose in a single date.
“Beth is moving about sorely and tenderly, but so am I, for similar reasons too I'd wager, although in my case self inflicted. Derrick is a big man, and I assumed Beth may have had some trouble accommodating him initially, even for more traditional forms of sex like she prefers. I can't imagine she has allowed him to do anything else to her tiny body, but then again, he's a monster, who's going to stop him? Her good morning shower sex with him had likely been from behind too, perhaps that was what was making her sore, or more sore, but not so much so that she had denied him.
“...I couldn’t believe I was rationally pondering the kinds of sex my wife was having with her new boyfriend, but I was...
“This whole situation is still horrible for me, but slightly less so this next day, a kind of normalcy seeping into it. Beth's silence gives me some hope at that point, perhaps she is having some 'buyer's remorse' of her own on this whole affair, although their spontaneous and extended shower sex this morning belies that notion.
“If his released sexual tension hasn't dampened his aggressions, perhaps it has at least done so for her?
“She doesn't necessarily look like something has been done against her will, but this next day has left her with something profound obviously on her mind, a next decision to be made perhaps.
“I eventually see her lock eyes with Derrick, and then smile, such gestures once reserved for me alone, in our recent past, but truthfully not in the last year or so. We've grown into intimate strangers, somehow, and the intimacy isn't even all that good for her any longer either. I don't know now if it ever had been, but if I had kept her exclusively to myself she might not know it; although her and her friends, both at work, and back home, have likely exhausted this topic of conversation. I once again realize that I'm a fool for suggesting this cuckold boyfriend thing in the first place. It was a fantasy for me; I don't even know why that particular fantasy turned me on like it did, other than the promised illicit excitement, although the reality of that actually sucks.
“I know that guys want to have sex because they're guys, and women want to have sex because of an emotional attachment, and the ignorant brute Derrick was smart enough to work this part out on his own. He possibly already owns her heart at this point, but I think I can maybe still fix this somehow, recapture her heart, but this poison that I've foolishly allowed to seep into our troubled marriage will first have to run its course.
“I'm interrupted in my thoughts and their logical conclusions by some new orders though.
“'While we're out, you're to clean your things out of my bedroom, every single one of them, and move yourself into the guest bedroom, for now! My bedroom and bathroom are a mess too, I expect everything to be perfect in there by the time we get back. I'll also need your credit card as we have some shopping to do, so get that now!'
“I scamper away to do as I'm told. A decision has obviously been reached, but not the one I had wanted.
“They leave shortly thereafter, together, but I don't know where to, specifically, nor for what exact kind of shopping either, while in possession of my credit card. 'Are the neighbors watching?' I wonder briefly, but I have work to do so I can't dwell on this thought too long. I first clean up from a breakfast that I only picked at, and then move onto my former bedroom. Only the day before it had still been mine, along with my wife, the speed of this assault impossible to keep up with, but my passiveness has been exponentially enhanced by my endless self abuse. I'm no longer worthy of a stunning woman like Beth, on this single issue alone we might all three agree.
“I'm overcome with the pungent smells that assail my nose, the smells of sex. It's overwhelming, as is the mess, blankets and sheets all over the place, pillows thrown all over too, it looking and smelling as if there had been an all out orgy in there, with half a dozen participants! The place reminds me of a trashed hotel room, the poor girls from housekeeping having their work cut out for them in making it presentable once again for the next paying guests. Their job sucks on those days, and mine does too, especially when thinking about how this room got to look like it did.
“I move my clothes first, the act profound, but I can't dwell on this either as I don't know what time the two lovers are coming back 'home,' the subconscious choice of that word alone implying that this is Derrick's home now, even though he has a perfectly wonderful place in the nice part of the city. Beth doesn't live in that one though, nor does their new maid, and I wonder if Beth is secretly happy to have one of those at her beck and call once again? One look at her is all you need to tell you that she deserves such luxuries, but I can't afford to provide them, although in a twisted sort of way I still am.
“There are cum stains everywhere, on the sheets, on one of the pillows, and even on the blankets, no wonder the place smells like it does! I smell Beth's familiar scent of arousal mixed in with Derrick's more manly smells, his like raw sweat and testosterone mixed in with the steaks I had cooked for him, so that he could keep up his strength and endurance as he made love to my perfect wife repeatedly like I never could.
“In the bathroom the wet towels are thrown about on the floor, even though there is an empty hamper for this exact purpose within sight. Neither one has made the slightest effort to clean up after themselves, but why should they when housekeeping will do it for them? I heard them having sex in the shower too, and while I couldn't necessarily smell that like I could in the bedroom, a part of me sees them going at it in there, in my minds eye, large hand prints on the tile wall confirming this. 'Could I actually watch the two of them making love to each other without losing my mind?' I ask myself. These thoughts are unhealthy though, and I have serious work to do as a needed distraction.
“I know this will be a good two loads of wash, maybe even three, and I bunch up everything to take it down to the laundry room, some of Derrick's cold wet cum inadvertently touching my bare cheek in the process. It's nasty, fate itself rubbing my proverbial nose in it. I know the times involved though, and the potential staining, and if I try to make the washing machine do too much in one load it will only break again. The last time I had done so the repair bill was quite stiff, and mine alone, as I had broken it myself doing chores that were mine alone. Beth had insisted I shoulder that repair bill myself, to teach me a lesson about cutting corners and taking the 'easy way' out. She had grown to like doing things like this with me as of late, setting herself in a position of superiority over me, but I had cheerfully allowed it, Beth easily worth this, and so much more.
“I set to deep cleaning the bedroom next, letting the washing machine do its job, but this time unattended. I had serious work to do upstairs, and an unknown time budget with which to do it with. The room still smelled of sex even without the bodily fluids soiled linens, so I opened the windows to air it out, a painful epiphany hitting me square in the face as the fresh air flooded the room.
“'Why didn't this room smell like this when I had bought them their drinks before dinner? And, why hadn't Beth been obviously sore and achy earlier, either when she had come out to eat dinner, or even earlier than that when she had let me back into my own locked home after my fool's errands shopping run?' This and their obvious show of making out with each other in bed, and even Beth's strange final look after dinner now made perfect sense to me."
"I don't understand?"
"DON'T YOU SEE? They hadn't done it yet, hadn't consummated their relationship... Before dinner I had so graciously and foolishly cooked and served the both of them... Derrick had been through this once before - I was to find out, much too late - and the husband in that case had made things ugly, as in cops and lawyers ugly...
“Derrick was just a man that got off on taking things that didn't belong to him, the thrill of the chase and all of that. It's just the way he's wired, and he's big and strong enough to ordinarily get his own way. Well anyway, he apparently learned from that costly experience, and Beth had started out as just another conquest for him, his transfer to her office a necessary one with his legal troubles in his old town. 'Get out of town and don't ever come back!' that kind of thing.
“He was therefore on the rebound and wanted some fun, and Beth and her magnificent little body promised plenty of that. She was even playfully willing, although just curiously flirtatious at first, but an obvious opportunity for any man, let alone one specifically like Derrick. This no doubt was a match made in heaven from Derrick's point of view; for a man with his unique tastes. I was also to find out that this cuckolding thing had grown more popular than I even knew; the smarter dominant men who practice it have a code of conduct designed to keep them out of legal trouble, or from getting shot! They even shared ideas and tips and challenges in their chat rooms, and I'm sure that my pictures, and even some of Beth's, made it on there, less any identifying features like tattoos and faces, one can only hope.
“I can imagine it now: 'I had him dressed in panties and an apron and cooking me dinner in hours, and then after dinner I took his highly attractive wife into his own bed and did everything I wanted with her, and to her, while the fool cleaned up from dinner and listened!'”
"Oh indeed, I really F'd up here. It turns out that Beth was still technically mine until just after dinner, when I got that final odd look from her. She was to be Derrick's proverbial desert, one could easily say. But I didn't know any of this at the time, and the irony of it all was that I thought Derrick was the ignorant one. It was quite humbling when I realized that, but I still had quite far to go before I hit actual rock bottom, I was just on the tip of the slippery slope of descent at that point.
“They eventually come back home, but I've finished my chores and had some time to dwell on things, while looking at some cuck porn on my laptop, and self abusing myself further while thinking about the parallel kink of it all. I'm raw and sore perpetually, starting to think I might be doing some real long term damage to myself, and that maybe I'd be better off without my guy junk at all, it just seemed to cause me so many problems. I wonder, half seriously, if Beth would forgive me and take me back, if I were to have those destructive little battered bits removed, willingly demoting myself to her neutered asexual servant instead. I would selflessly do all this for her too, just to be close to her - or at least in my present frame of mind I thought I would - but this would do little for her unanswered sexual needs that I had apparently been failing to satisfy.
“...I know about chastity cages too, they seem to go hand in hand with this cuckolding movement, I had even seen them present in the cuck porn I had been masturbating to. I had once shopped for them online, but more out of curiosity, rather than a desire to actually own and wear one. Explaining that kink to Beth would be a stretch, a woman who wouldn't even let me playfully bind her wrists with a bathrobe sash, nor take her from behind...
“Well anyway, they have several packages with them, from several different stores. It was a real shopping spree, and explains why they were out so long. There is even a bag from a big box hardware chain. I'm curious as to what they've done, but I dare not ask, even though I know she had my credit card the whole day.
“'We have gifts we bought for you,' Beth calls to me sweetly, in her innocent child's tone that I now see as patronizing, but still reminiscent of happier times. 'But,' she corrects herself, 'I can't really call them gifts as you've paid for them,' she concedes.
“'First things first though,' Derrick reminds her, this man once again asserting his dominance under what had been my roof only two days earlier.
“In a pattern that I see repeated several times during this extended ordeal, Beth tells me what Derrick wants me to do. He has no problem giving orders, and he isn't the least bit timid or afraid of me either, so this is curious. I have no choice anyway, Beth coming more into her own with directing my actions; but we had started down this road shortly after we were married, so this seemed like an almost natural progression in that direction, except on steroids.
“'Take a nice hot bath, as hot as you can take it, and you're to shave off everything below your nose that you can reach, I'll come in and check on you and do any touch-ups when you're done,' she tells me in that same child-like tone. I think for maybe half a second that she's joking, but there is no mirth in her patronizing tone. I wasn't the most hairy of men back then anyway, but her intentions were clear when she handed me a pack of pink disposable lady shavers and pink feminine shaving gel. As my hands are full - and I think at the same time to nudge me along adroitly in the direction she wanted - she unties my apron, taking it off of me as Derrick watches with an amused smile on his face, as if he's looking at a trapped carnival side-show freak in a cage, on display specifically for his amusement. She next has me step out of my panties - with stained panty liner in place - my abused little soldier looking even worse for the wear, and she notices it's deteriorating, raw-hamburger-like condition.
“Derrick does too, I've been stripped naked in front of this beast of a man who has temporarily stolen my wife and assumed my rightful place in her bed, but having my self-abused 'manhood' nakedly on display for him like this is a new low. Beth takes a picture with her phone, pink shaving accessories in hand and all, and Derrick does the same, but with his expensive tablet. I am reminded once again of a caveman with a calculator. I'm prejudiced towards him, but not in the way most people use that word these days; prejudice, as in I have pre-judged him based on his size and strength, as if a man who looks like that couldn't have any brains at all. It's my greatest folly to date in all this, and one that haunts me to this day.
“I start to do as instructed, attempting to close the door in my wake, but Derrick's strong arm violently stops me. 'The door must remain open,' I'm told. I need to use the toilet before my bath, and I reluctantly stand before the commode to take care of business, lifting the seat as I have been admonished to do since marriage. It's one of Beth's many pet peeves, her list of such things growing on a monthly basis. I apparently won't be allowed even this minor level of modesty, but I'm sure prison doesn't have bathroom doors either.
“I start to run my hot bath. I have been so bulldozed down this path that I can't fathom resistance of any kind, although I have, from an outside point of view I'm sure, bypassed several such opportunities. I hear a thump, thump, thump down the hall, wondering at what caused such a noise, but I'm certain that Derrick is responsible for it, the force required to make it sounds masculine. I don't investigate, Derrick is in the house now, and I feel like if I did it wouldn't be taken well, nor would I be taken seriously either: naked, limp, and with obviously pummeled manhood on shriveled, embarrassing display. My limited clothes have been taken and I've been given a task, a feminizing one, and I know that to deviate from those instructions will certainly have some consequences associated with it.
“I then see one of the houses' interior doors going down the hall - past the main floor bathroom I'm presently occupying - in Derrick's hands. He is heading for the basement with it. The odd noise I had heard obviously being the hinge pins being driven from their mounts, probably with my own tools. This invading man is changing my very home, rearranging it, in more than one way, but I'm powerless to stop him, it's a recurring theme with Derrick and I.
“The door to 'my' bathroom is next, and I can only assume that the first door belongs to the guest bedroom, my new room. I will have no privacy in there now, no opportunities to self entertain in such privacy, at least with either of them around. I erroneously think, 'I will have others,' in a comforting fashion, as masturbation is about the only thing keeping me sane at the moment."
"They took the doors off?" I asked my friend incredulously. I wanted to challenge Pansy on some of these details, the pace of his manipulation unreal, as in unbelievable. To hear his desperate tone though, it gave additional truth to what should have been impossible, at least in such a short period of time. If all of this wasn't true, I thought Pansy at least believed it to be so, but I knew then that to tell this story completely, and faithfully as I had promised, that I would have to hear the other side of it.
Derrick sounded like an outright bull of a man, but an experienced one, and James/Pansy had alluded to the fact that Derrick was on the rebound from his last wife-stealing adventure, one that didn't turn out all that well. Logically he would have wanted to correct what he had perceived as errors on his part; fix the proverbial car up that you've just driven into a ditch in a snowstorm, and take it back out for a drive before you lost your nerve.
There were apparent phases to such things, be they great trauma, or something more like this. Pansy had gone through grief and denial already, acceptance and or submission to this new reality seemed well under way, leaving only her embracing this new ‘condition’ for the way things must be going forward, no matter her desires. I had seen part of this, with her easy display of her cage thing to me at the beginning of this story, so I knew how it ended for her already.
"Yes, Derrick took the two doors off and stored them downstairs, he changed the entry door locks on the house, and installed a proper entry door type lock on 'their' bedroom door. He also installed a similar lock on a basement closet door, but I wouldn't find about that one until later. I heard things happening in the house, and I was once again powerless to stop them, but the door being taken from the bathroom affecting me more than I can tell you. I was embarrassed to be seen with my abused manhood hanging out, the missing door multiplying this effect I think, most especially around Derrick.
“I shaved everything I could reach with the fragrant pink gel, but my legs, arms, chest and guy parts had the most profound and emasculating effect, although to be clear these were also the parts that I could clearly see without the aid of a mirror. I had to drain the tub once and refill it to remove all the hair, my scant remaining masculinity feeling like it was running down the drain along with it. The feminine scent, as well as the smooth, bald condition of my fresh looking 'new' skin was overwhelming, as if this was the more proper way for me to look now.
“But it was Derrick, and not Beth, that barged right in on me to inspect the finished product when he heard the tub drain that first time. I didn't even have the warning of hearing the door open before seeing his massive body standing before me, my blushing red face at his crotch level as I sat lowly in that draining tub. I noticed the massive bulge in his pants first, thinking not only that Beth was getting some of that now, but that Derrick was getting off on emasculating me, on dominating me.
“Had he wished, he probably could have had me do something for him, something Beth did for me one single time on our wedding night, when I had promised, and accidentally lied to her the first time, coming in her mouth when I had promised not to. It was an accident, but one I wouldn't get the chance to repeat either. I had never envisioned that I would even think of doing such a thing for another guy, but I was at the same time having trouble seeing myself as ‘another guy’ at that point too...
“'Come on in here, Babe!' Derrick calls out. He apparently even had a 'pet' name for my Beth already at that point; I wondered at the close bond they had formed so quickly. It suggested that the two had been moving in this direction at work, and during their lunches together, amounting to a great many lunch 'dates' before I even knew there was a Derrick, thus I was blindsided by him.
“Beth comes in too, looking down coldly at the side-show freak, sitting naked and mostly shaved in her bathtub, her heart frozen to me at that point.
“'Legs are his best feature I'd say,' Derrick compliments. 'Why don't you see what you can do with the rest of “it”, while I get the surprise?' He is asking her, but is really telling her to do so. He sounds anxious to get this 'surprise' in place, and I just know that it isn't a good surprise.
“'I don't think so, not yet,' Beth contradicts her new lover. I am thinking that perhaps this young woman with an obvious spine has just realized that this has gone too far, that it's too cruel, but her cold stare a second ago belies this notion. I realize later that I'm clearly seeing what is happening, but contaminating this observation is what I would LIKE to be seeing. I'm overwhelmed by everything, the speed of this, the cruelty from what was my loving wife not a few days earlier, all of it. As a result I try to be as small and non-threatening as possible sitting there as I am, but this is easy when one is naked and humiliated as I was in the presence of two fully clothed people. I have been totally dominated. I foolishly think this can't get any worse.
“I redouble my efforts, at Beth's direction, almost grateful for the menial task to focus on, but just try to shave your own back some time. It's impossible, but I do the best that I can anyway. This is obviously busy work for me, while the other two are out in the rest of the house doing things. I'm missing a great deal of what's going on out there, by design, as I toil away in the tub. My laptop is out there, and no password to protect it; the thought never bothered me in the past. Beth wouldn't snoop though, just like I wouldn't snoop on her work laptop that she uses when she works from home occasionally.
“Beth eventually comes back in, and touches up what I couldn't reach, but what should have felt close and intimate between us instead feels like she is grooming a dog, one she doesn't especially like. 'We’re done in here,' Beth calls out coldly, with the added connotation in her tone that suggests, 'Yuck! I had to actually touch it, with my bare hand!'
“Beth then washes her hands off in the sink, almost violently, as if she doesn't want to catch something, or perhaps as if she's accidentally soiled her pretty hands using the toilet, and this disgusts her. Anything poop or ass related disgusts her, it's just the way she is, and it's a shame, because she has a magnificent ass that no man will ever touch.
“Derrick then comes in with 'it,' the first device, the thing that changed everything."
"The first one? There was more than one?" I ask.
"Yes, an odd thing happens when you cage up a man for enough time, it's not exactly a muscle, but some of the same things that happen to a muscle can happen to it. It atrophies, loses girth and length, from both non-use, and a bunch of other blood flow related things. That means that you shrink, and what fits you at first, doesn't fit you after a few months, and you could possibly fall out of it. There is another more permanent solution to this 'little problem,' but it would make more sense if I explained that one later."
"Okay, sorry for the interruption, please go on," I tell him. It is hard to think of ‘him’ as ‘her’ while discussing 'her' penis.
"Very well. Derrick then comes in with a plastic chastity device, actually several sizes of both ring and tube. It looks exactly like the one I had once shopped online, the coincidence unbelievable. I know now that not keeping my laptop secure has been a huge mistake. I have sites bookmarked on there, favorite pictures and stories too, and I'm sure now that Beth, and possibly Derrick as well, have been in there snooping around. I just don't know exactly when this has happened, but this at least explains the rapid and 'custom-fit' nature of Derrick's domination of me, and Beth's too.
“I had read and saved stories with similar themes, the concept turning me on like mad, great masturbation material, but the reality sucks. This feels nothing like what I expected, and I just want things to go back to 'normal,' although that's impossible now, one can't put the toothpaste back into the tube nearly as easy as one can squeeze it out. Beth has seen me audition for this less than masculine role, submissively dominated by what appears to be a superior man, she can't unsee that.
“This device isn't the last step though, but just another slip down that ever more slippery slope for me. I'm feeling as small as I ever have down there as an adult man, and not just because of the cooling bath water and the perpetual stinging of the feminine shaving gel on my raw guy parts. I want to curl up and cry, but I can't, or maybe I could have, but this still wouldn't have saved me.
“This device is from a well known manufacturer, and I know that they're not cheap, but if Beth is telling me the truth I also know that I've bought this for myself, and brought this on myself too. 'Something to keep you from abusing that little thing unnecessarily,' Derrick tells me mockingly, for which I have no witty retort. He's right, it will do that, and also prevent me from doing the one thing that has kept me sane so far. I'm about to go from self-entertaining several times a day, to not doing it at all, this is worse than quitting cigarettes. I wonder about my addictive nature for not the first time, but it's in my nature, or at least it was.
“The device I had shopped for online was even pink like this one. I test fit the rings in the bath first, as they both watch, I have the feeling that If I didn't do it, Derrick would put it on me himself. I couldn't imagine another guy even touching me there down then, nor vice-versa. High school physicals back in the day with the school doctor were especially embarrassing for me. Things today have changed obviously, but that's the way I felt back then, pre-chastity device, and passively sated by my own hand.
“They have bought every ring size; and the smallest one I can get into - soapy water and all - ISN'T the smallest ring of the set, my male ego maybe not completely crushed - yet. The tube is next, and with my rubbed raw skin the best I can get into again isn't the smallest one. At the time I did not believe that they came in such small sizes. I certainly wasn't the smallest 'man' ever put in chastity it seems, but large men probably didn't contemplate such things in the first place.
I had shopped these things online and knew their sizes, but seeing and holding them brought life to the items pictured on their website. I would say that this was very real now, but that sounds cliché, and truth be told it was all very real. The key and internal lock cylinder was next, and before I could utter a protest of any kind Derrick had grabbed the device I was wearing, and my bits now contained within, and he savagely twisted it out and away from my body as I helplessly watched. I had to place my hands behind me to keep from falling backwards in the tub, so I had no real means to stop him in this slippery environment. Those things are ordinarily quite tender all by themselves, but my raw condition and the brutish and uncaring rough handling brought me to literal tears.
“I thought he was going to lift me out of the tub by them, he was so rough, or tear them from my body, but he did neither. He did savagely mash the lock cylinder in place though; perched atop the little key, twisting it roughly enough to risk snapping the key off in the lock. It didn't break though, which was good, because then cutting the plastic device from me would be the only other way to get out of this thing if and when my new masters decided I could.
“There were two keys on the ring, and not a second later Derrick ripped one of them from it and flushed it down the toilet as Beth and I both watched. The remaining key he put into his wallet, the symbolism clear. Beth might still be my wife, but Derrick OWNED me as long as he owned that single little key.
“'She needs a new name now,' Derrick told Beth triumphantly. This felt like the moment he had been waiting for, even more so that bedding Beth that first time. He was a man, and Beth sexy enough for any man to want, but with me locked up and safely out of way he could have her any time he wanted, and a submissive servant as a bonus. He got off on this, I could see it in his eyes, and hear it in his voice.
“'Let's get her dressed first,' Beth suggested, ever the practical one. They had apparently been clothes shopping for me as well, and laid out on my new bed I would find what I was to wear, but first I was to apply the female deodorant and a splash of cheap perfume, of the kind that one buys by the pint and Beth wouldn't wear if her life depended on it.
“'This is also part of your new uniform of service around here when you're not actually at work, consider this one part of your house punishment for keeping so many secrets from me, and for being such a closet pansy too,' Beth tells me coldly. But, I see a glimmer of a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. Punishment, even a well deserved one, implies that one day it will be over, like a well earned jail sentence. Once a criminal pays his debt to society, he's expected to resume his normal life, less the criminal activity part, isn't he?
“'Yes ma'am,' I answer meekly. As bad as this is, I see an end to it, but this again was what I wanted to see, and not necessarily what I should have seen.
“On my new bed is my new life, laid out for me as if both my best fantasy, and worst nightmares, are all rolled into one. This stuff must have cost a fortune, and I'm certain that I've paid for it, and will pay for it going forward. I also feel my missing bodily hair as I walk from one room to the other, as if I'm extra naked. My skin is new-looking, baby fresh and slightly pink from either the shaving gel, or all the time in the bath. I feel the cage too, a reminder of my commitment here. 'There will be no rebellion while I'm wearing it,' I tell myself rationally.
“There are two different dress sizes, but they were identical looking longish A-lines, yellow with white trim and quite practical, in a 1950's housewife kind of way. Laid out on the bed as well are an A cup front hook bra in my band size, childish looking full coverage panties with flowers on them, and a brand new package of pantyhose. On the floor next to my bed are two pairs of low heel shoes, I presume here as well that they are male equivalent sizes as these feminine things are between sizes.
“I start to dress with my back to the missing door, feeling eyes watching me on and off, 'but I have no choice,' I tell myself, even though my guy clothes are in the closet. The pantyhose feel magnificent on my very bare legs, and in short order I give myself a crash course in dressing... in... well... a dress, for the very first time ever. I look in the mirror when I'm done, I don't quite look feminine, but certainly not masculine either. My 'for the office' haircut spoils the effect, but this is surely meant to humiliate me, and remind me of my place, and it does that effectively. Still this feels a step up from parading around in front of Derrick in just an apron and a pair of crushingly tight panties.
“I then step into the larger of the two pairs of shoes and tentatively walk out toward the living room, walking in heels for the first time and feeling like a clod. I don't know how girls do this so gracefully, but I would eventually learn too.
“'Come over here, you little pansy,' Beth calls out. Derrick laughs at the pejorative, the name sticking as my alter ego feminine name from that day forward. More pictures were taken, and my new life started. There were more dresses, taller heels, but more utilitarian underthings designed not to be sexy. I was a dominated, feminized servant, not a sexy female alter ego, at least at first. I cooked and cleaned, and Derrick became a regular sleep-over guest. They even bought me a wig, an expensive one, but again with my own credit card. I was directed at one point to get cards in both Derrick's name, and Beth's, even though she had several in her own name already, with no balance. I paid for whatever they wanted for me, I was both a slave to them, and to my building debt.
“By this point I had been caged up for months; I was going insane with lust, but with no relief valve on my desires. I thought maybe, just maybe, Beth was tiring of this abuse, this game they had played on me. But this had developed into a habit, and someplace in there the feeling of normalcy crept in again. This 'new' normal. Beth wasn't doing any housework at all by that time, not that she did much anyway, but I was cooking and cleaning for two, plus myself, although in my case I wasn't eating almost anything. I had gone down two dress sizes, and I was swimming in my ‘for work only’ guy clothes. The neighbors were likely thinking I was sick and housebound with my rapid weight loss. 'Had they seen me in my alter ego female attire as I toiled around the house?' I wondered, I tried to keep the shades closed towards the road as much as possible to prevent this, but even that must have been noticed.
“I also wondered at what the neighbors thought of our masculine frequent house guest, this surely not a secret up and down the block by then. But, in this case being sequestered in the house had a benefit; I didn't have to face them, nor their concerned questions about my health. But this left Derrick to do the outside work now, becoming the 'man' of the house, in their eyes at least in all likelihood, and I had no idea what he had told them about his relationship with me, nor my wife anyway."
"That's it?" I asked.
"No, unfortunately it got even worse from there... I learned to walk and somewhat talk in a more feminine manner, while my wardrobe expanded, I lost more weight too, and my guy package had shrunk to the point that Derrick insisted that I wear the very smallest versions of what they had bought me. This was again accomplished in the bathtub, my once a week ritual to shave off everything that a real woman shouldn't have, my legs, face, and arms done daily in the shower though.
“My guy stuff had both eventually healed, and shrunk, to the point that the smallest off-the-shelf version of what I was wearing wasn't small enough any longer. Beth wanted me to have the 'whole experience' though, her exact words, so she put me on birth control pills, just like hers. The result was that my boobs began to grow and my ass filled out despite my weight loss, all as my guy stuff shrunk even further, although my skin at least got softer and I didn't have to shave as often. Speaking of softer, I couldn't even think about getting hard any longer either, and I feared that when they were done with me and Beth took me back, I would have nothing to offer her, other than being a well trained domestic servant in drag."
"So is this when you bottomed out?" I asked. I needed to hear the rest, to know how she got here before me in this condition. This cage she was wearing now was no off-the-shelf plastic device. I knew about those, as did my husband.
"No, that's kind of next; I can tell you're getting bored though."
"It's not that, but people need interest to keep reading."
"Well there is that," Pansy admitted sadly, suppressing an obvious tear. I felt like a ghoul for pushing her so.
"The pills soon accelerated things, to the point that I needed him to open jars for me every now and then when I cooked. It was most embarrassing, and needlessly highlighted his obvious strength over my own. But I could tell that even with this that Derrick had grown bored with tormenting me. He also likely needed to 'one up' things with the guys in his chat room group too, so with his name on my credit card he made an appointment for just him and I at a special place. Beth could care less, but I was terrified to be out alone with him. At least neither had made me go outside the house dressed up as Pansy, although I had answered the door for the package delivery men dressed like this several times.
“So, dressed as a guy, Derrick and I drove in his nicer and new car - the one I had initially seen him in was in fact a rental - to the big city, and to a rough part of it besides. I even caught myself hovering close to Derrick for protection in a very non-masculine way, not one of my prouder moments to be sure. I found myself in a piercing shop, and in short order I was stripped to the waist and had both my nipples pierced with little welded rings installed, my ears too. It hurt like hell and I teared up like a wuss, but this was only a warm-up for what was to be done to me next. I then stripped naked right there in the shop at Derrick's direction, panties and all, which got the withered old man's raised eyebrow attention. My feet then go up in the stirrups and they're buckled in place, and my now much smaller cock is done next, after Derrick hands the key to the man.
“That hurt more than I can possibly tell you, and I cry like a baby my emotions were so off balance. I was also precisely measured for a new custom-made titanium cage before my plastic cage was put back on; now with my new ring put through a hole the man had expertly drilled into the front of the plastic cage's tube. I was very trapped in the short term cage once that ring was welded shut, it painfully dragged on my panties with every step.
“Anyway, my new and custom titanium cage arrives in Derrick's hands maybe weeks later, but it's all such a blur to be honest, and I lost some track of time. I go into the bath again, as Beth watches the spectacle of Derrick installing it on me, after he takes a snip and cuts the plastic device from the welded ring permanently attached to my shrunken manhood. She obviously sees my new piercings, but doesn't comment on them, she has less than no interest in me any longer, despite my desire to wait out Derrick's interest and reclaim her.
“This device - the same one I'm presently wearing - is very small, even for me in those days. The way it goes on though captures my piercing in such a way that if I even could slip out of it somehow, it would tear me in half. There is but a single key for this new device, and Derrick, just as savagely as before, uses it to lock the device on me as Beth dispassionately watches. It's as if she doesn't even know me any longer, and I catch myself wondering at what she's told her parents about all this.
“I haven't cum in a great many months by this point, and I don't know if some kind of permanent damage has been done. I'm drooling in my panty liners almost every day now, but it gives me no relief. I feel like I almost don't need the cage any longer, but the cage represents something: as long as I wear it I'm not a man, at least not a real and functioning one. Dressing up and serving these two every single day doesn't help this notion, but that's the idea and the damage is done, it also makes for a lot of extra laundry...
“I have some new clothes and other things waiting for me on my bed now, a further gift apparently contingent on this new cage's fitting. I've been told to take two weeks vacation too, something very hush-hush is obviously planned. I find out by accident that the two love birds are taking a cruise, a lover's retreat, but I'm obviously not to come along, nor apparently stay home by myself to get into all kinds of mischief either; they have a plan for me, and for themselves as well.
“It seems that Derrick's very nice apartment in the city isn't really his, it was a condition of his transfer, a year long gift from the company so that he could focus on his new duties, and apparently also on seducing my wife. But, he has to give it back now, so it needs to be cleaned perfectly, top to bottom, there is even a long checklist of things that must be done, less Derrick be charged by the managers of the building. I foolishly won't admit to myself where Derrick is moving to, but the clues are all there.
“I'm to ‘get used to my new things first,' I'm told ominously, and this gives me great concern. There are higher heeled shoes, they had been moving me in this direction anyway, but the five inch pumps are anything but practical for cooking and cleaning, although my thin legs look good in them, very feminine. Just as impractical is the short maid's dress, it’s not a classical French maid's dress, but a sexy as hell cocktail inspired number and a radical departure from the conservative things I've been made to wear for them in the past. I have been filling out in the chest anyway, but one of the bras that goes with this thing is at least a cup size too big, with clear rigid plastic cups built in, with a valve in each tip roughly aligned with my nipples. Wearing it will almost be like being bare chested with a natural female chest, appearance wise, something I've never been allowed to do while dressed up. Still it doesn't make complete sense, but I've something to learn and instinctively put this bra on.
“Black panties, garters, and real stockings complete the outfit, and there are two other full changes there as well, along with a more traditional bra a cup size larger than I am. I would guess one extra change of clothes in case I soil the first, which is possible doing housework while wearing such a nice little dress that shows off my legs, but why two? There is also a plug, I know what these are from my porn surfing, and all I can say is that it's not as huge as some of the ones I had seen there. I put it in, but even this small one is a serious struggle, even with the lube they have left me, conditioning myself to relax back there like I've never had to do before. I have a new condition now, I'm to be plugged every day as a complement to my new titanium chastity cage. There's a very small eyelet on the plug, and a small chain links the two, tucking my tiny trapped guy parts efficiently away between my now gapped thighs, and leaving me even more femininely flat fronted in my panties.
“Once in the entire outfit I'm looking good enough to fool somebody at a distance, especially with my weight loss. A dress like this needs a B or even a C cup chest to properly pull it off though, and the rigidity of this plastic cupped bra contraption makes me look like I've got it. I like the shape, and I think that if one must dress up, one should look good doing so; this is, I realize, a further acceptance of my new lot in life. I feel sexy dressed like this though, a profound feeling for me with my recent humbling experiences.
“Beth walks in carrying our expensive vacuum, the thing has incredible suction, and it was a gift from her to me on our second wedding anniversary. There's still no door on my room, so she walks right in as I'm preening in front of the mirror. I'm caught red faced, but she says nothing, her soul is dead for me, no humor, no passion, no love. I didn't think she even knew where it was kept, nor how to turn it on - these thoughts ironically equally applicable to both the vacuum and Beth's soul, at least in regards to me - I realized with a mirthless internal laugh of my own.
“'I will show you this a single time, so pay attention' she admonishes, as if talking to a belligerent child, although one strangely dressed for sex. I strip off the dress and stand before her in my feminine underthings - including the odd transparent bra with the hard plastic cups - only for her to start the vacuum and touch the wand ordinarily meant for sucking crumbs from the corners, to the one way valve contraption at the 'nipple' part of the bra cup, all as I bend over cooperatively.
“The result is instantaneous, my hanging left boob is obscenely and noisily sucked tight into the clear bra cup, giving me at least one whole cup size in an instant. It looked like this was my natural shape, and I liked it. I do my right at her direction, before replacing the dress and thinking we were done. This is the most one-on-one we've had in quite some time, as she's made herself unavailable to discuss anything about this situation - usually with a rudely raised tiny hand in my face - when I've tried.
“Next was a short lesson in makeup; lipstick and some light blush to highlight my cheeks, and even some mascara; apparently getting some of her old half-used hand-me-down cosmetics. During all this personal time together, her pretty face was unreadable to me; it was still stunningly attractive even from an objective point of view, with or without any makeup of her own. In the mirror, next to my now more effeminate one, it looks indifferent, dispassionate. Did she hate doing this with me, or hate doing this to me, or did she maybe hate that I didn't fight back in some small way at some earlier point? I don't know for sure if it was either, but she was like a pretty, disinterested stranger to me at that point.
“I mastered the new heels and outfit in a night, the heels and the plug together giving me a little something extra in my walk, this as well a new part of my uniform of service to my two owners going forward. I catch myself standing a little straighter, and not just because of the plug, something has changed. I looked good in this, maybe even sexy, I surely felt sexy and even decided to sleep in my unique shaping bra because of this. I liked what it did for me even though the suction part stung and made my tender flesh red, but I pretty much full-on embraced my femininity at this point.
“I had done without for the best part of a year, cold turkey quitting my frequent self-inflicted orgasms, and my brain was becoming rewired in regards to sex as a result. I had deep unsatisfied urges, and locked up as I was I couldn't satisfy them with a woman, even if a willing one was somehow available, not to mention that I was still married to Beth. I couldn't take care of my frequent sexual urges myself any longer either, and that of course left one logical last option, and I was even dressed appropriately. I'm certain that these things weren't an accident on Derrick's part, he was a true cunning evil soul, determined to win this one sided competition at any cost, and cause me to tragically self-destruct at the same time.
“My last day at work for two weeks causes me some dread though, because my wife and her lover are going on their vacation, and they're doing something with me too. I'm to dress in my new outfit, and pack the other two, along with my hand me down cosmetics and some underthings. This implied that we were going someplace outside of the house with me dressed up, a very big first. I'm terrified, but I can't say no either, I have no standing to do so, nor courage either, and they have lots of pictures to bend me toward their will.
“I find myself sitting in the back of Derrick's new car, but they let me get in inside the attached garage, preventing the neighbors from seeing the full show. I keep as low as I can all the way to Derrick's building; we drive into the underground parking, then he and I go up to his place on the top floor with me in tow by the back elevator, literally hand in hand. I shuffle along in my five inch heels, noisily on the concrete floor of the parking garage. The click, click, click noise of my heels is something I at one time associated with the passing of a well dressed woman, Beth even, but now that noise is ironically generated by my own feet instead, telling me how far I have sunk down into this faux feminization, in only a year.
“'You're to do this entire checklist to perfection, anything that's less that perfect will be taken out of your worthless sissy hide' he tells me brutishly, threateningly. Beth isn't here, and I'm caged up in an emasculating and almost indestructible titanium cage, with the only key that I know about in his possession. He could easily break my sissy neck with his bare hands and leave my body in the bathtub for the next two weeks, or even flush that key too down the toilet as I helplessly watched him, and we both know it. He could even drown me in that same bathtub as Beth patiently waited in the parking garage for him to return, making it look like an accident.
“I was deeply afraid of this man like no other I had ever met in my life, and of what he could potentially make me do on a whim should he think it would amuse either him, or my Beth in some small way. I was just as afraid of him earlier when I had gone out with him alone that first time to get pierced and measured, but I had no choice then either. He's a monster pretending to be somewhat civilized, but deep down he's a monster first, and I hope that Beth can somehow see through her infatuation to see this clearly, before it's too late... And yes, I do eventually see the irony of that thought in regards to myself, but not that day.
“...I had many obvious opportunities to run away earlier, I could have pretended to go to work, but instead just taking the clothes on my back and disappearing, cutting the plastic cage from my manhood with my tools from home first. But that would have meant the pictures and this embarrassing situation would become public knowledge, and saving face here was still all-important to me, although I know that sounds silly with all they had made me do. This was a private torment, and different in my mind from a public one. Derrick the monster now of course had the new key to my manhood too, that was permanently trapped in this inescapable new cage, both by the key, and my piercing. I would have for sure lost Beth then too, she was the prize that I was still holding out for, my only reason to live at that point!
“I have no phone with me, no wallet, and no guy clothes either, and it's a wonder if security would even let me leave without questioning and interrogating me, demanding to see some I.D. And then what? Walk all the way home in five inch heels, dressed like this, through the entire city, to a house that I no longer have a key to? Did I even mention that Beth and Derrick had an alarm installed, with the code kept secret from me?"
"No, you didn't, but I have some other questions at the end I would like to ask as well," I tell my captive Pansy.
"Who do I call, looking like this, and with what phone? I may have even partially accepted this forced feminine transformation due to my lack of manly courage with Derrick, but nobody else I presently know will. They won't even recognize me now, and who could blame them? I've become withdrawn at work, the guys talk of their sexual exploits causing me more pain than I can describe, they know I have a hot looking wife, but I hope they don't come to realize that she's no longer hot for me, if she ever was... I'd be lucky to make it across town anyway, without being abducted, my battered body to be found at some later date, Beth and Derrick then free to do as they please with each other without a 'husband' in the way, their alibi ironclad...
“Derrick's fridge is almost empty, nearly cleaned out except for some condiments, just some beans and rice left in the pantry. He hasn't been living here all that much over the last year, but instead with Beth, while I served both of them like an unpaid maid, in what was once my own happy home. Derrick tells me that he has some gym friends who live in the building, and they're going to check in on me, and I'm to do whatever they say, cheerfully. He doesn't say 'or else what,' he doesn't have to. He still has the only key to my manhood, and a great many embarrassing pictures too, not to mention Beth's heart. And if all of these weren't enough, he's big and strong enough to make me wish I had behaved, almost like a belligerent child in fear of daddy's belt.
“I've not been punished like that in front of Beth... yet, but I've been meekly careful not to approach that line with the monster, let alone cross it. I could see Derrick doing so for some perceived disobedience, just to prove the point to both Beth and I that he could, laying some serious stripes across my naked ass with his belt as Beth watches me cry and struggle, and tearfully beg for mercy from this brute of a man who has stolen not only my manhood, but my sexy wife as well. She might even cream her panties while watching the show, I realize, this certainly more in line with the new Beth, the sadistic one that I'm inexplicably still in love with.
“Apparently, and with little choice of my own, I'm to be lent to some of Derrick's brutish gym friends. Dressed up as I am I can only assume it's for both free cleaning, and a good laugh I'm sure, at my expense. Not for the first time, I wonder how this situation that I've placed myself in can possibly get any worse, but I know that when I do... it usually does shortly afterwards. It's a foreboding feeling in my belly, but again I have no real choices here, other than to perhaps find a way to open one of these windows and dive head first to the pavement below. I can't do that either though, such things being immoral, as well as requiring courage that I just don't have.
“'Just so you know,' Derrick then goads, as if verbally pushing me towards those same windows with his words, 'while you're cleaning up for me like the good little sissy bitch that I’ve so easily made you into, I'm going to be fucking Beth in every way I possibly can, and I mean EVERY way. Someone's even going to get her anal cherry popped,' he tells me crudely, 'and I'm going to propose to Beth too, right afterwards! She'll have to dump your worthless sissy ass first, obviously, but I'll get you to sign those papers, one way or the other!' he threatens darkly.
"’She'll never say yes,' I foolishly challenge, 'to either.' But, I have to admit to myself that he's built a pretty good trap for me here, a real jail cell with a jailer perhaps the only better one. I can't imagine Beth agreeing to do anal with Derrick either, his big cock would ruin her tiny self back there, not to mention that she thinks it's nasty, disgusting, and unnatural, or at least she used to when I had brought up the subject one single time early on. Anal was a disgusting deal breaker for her, or at least it used to be, but it still pained me that he would force her into something like this, that this indignity would be the painful price she would have to pay to see this monster for what he truly was. It was a sacrifice to be sure, but I was also convinced that nothing would be the same afterwards.
“'Care to bet on that one?' he booms.
“'No,' I answer meekly, not wanting to do or say anything further to dissuade Derrick from desiring Beth's tiny ass, as the keys to my very freedom perhaps lay within. I couldn't imagine the specific terms of any wager like that either, but I was sure not to like them.
“'No what?' he asks me in challenge, I had briefly forgotten my manners with this dangerous monster.
“'No Sir,' I answer, my tone devoid of anything even remotely challenging; he must suspect he's already won the big prize by that statement alone, but even this wasn't enough for him.
“'I didn't think so! Have fun Pansy, you know I will!' And with that he leaves me to my chores, in my ad-hoc prison cell for the next two weeks, while he goes on vacation to make love to... and then propose to, my wife.
“I watch out the windows to look for Derrick's shiny new car, I think I even see it leaving from my perch up high, and I finally suspect in my heart what logic should have told me months earlier: Beth was either gone to me for good, or not, at the conclusion to this vacation. It all came down to this, hinging on Beth's acceptance of anal sex. I knew she at one time loathed it as disgusting and unnatural, but despite my false bravado with Derrick the monster a few minutes earlier, I wasn't completely confident in the outcome.
“I'm done with my entire chores list by nightfall, but it would have been wiser to drag it out, this way I wouldn't have had the next fourteen days to dwell on what was happening with Beth, and to Beth. She had obviously been very cold to me, but how could this muscular man replace me as her husband without my being able to plead my case directly to her in private, at least once? I still want her back, in my mind she's damaged goods now, but I would still forgive her a thousand times over her if given the chance. I'm still infatuated with her, but as crazy as it sounds, I selflessly still want her to be happy too.
“Would I sign those papers so that Derrick and her could be happy together though? Like 'forever after, till death do us part' happy? There was a question I couldn't honestly answer. But I still foolishly held out some small glimmer of hope that it wouldn't come down to that in the end.”