She Made Him Her Pretty Teenage Step-Sister

She Made Him Her Pretty Teenage Step-Sister

Written by Karen Jensen – Illustrations by ENEG

Chapter 1 – Transformation

It had been a tough year for Norman Malone. His mother had died when he was an infant and his father had just remarried the beginning of last year. He had moved to another town to live with his new wife and left Norman with friends to finish the school year. When summer arrived and school let out, Norman also moved, leaving his friends behind. He was there just a few weeks when his father suddenly died of a massive heart attack.

Now he was living with his step mother and step sister Andrea, who at 17 was the same age as Norman. He felt like he was living with two strangers. His stepmother was nice enough to him, and tried to make him feel welcome in her home, but Andrea made no pretense of liking him at all and looked upon him as an intruder in her life. She went out of her way to make his life miserable and it seemed that no matter what Norman did for her, it was not enough.

It was a couple of weeks after the funeral. His step mother had gone away for the weekend to try to get over her grief. Norman was downtown having a soda, also trying to forget his sorrow. He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up to see Lois, his sister’s friend, a girl Norman developed a crush on the first time he met her.

“Hi, Norman. I’m really sorry about your dad. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Oh, uh, no thanks Lois. I’m just drowning my sorrow in a soda. Can I buy you one?”

Lois sat down and they talked for awhile.

“Look, Norman, no one is home at my house. My folks went away for the weekend. Would you like to come over and go swimming with me?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

It was a short walk to her house. Norman’s spirits picked up immediately and he considered himself to be very lucky to be spending the afternoon with a beautiful girl like Lois. “Just go into the bathroom and get undressed. I’ll get you a swim suit and hand it to you through the door.”

Norman was really excited and in no time at all was standing there naked. Spending time alone with Lois was more than he dared dream.

“I have a suit for you, give me your clothes and I’ll hang them up while your changing.” She took his clothes, and gave him what she had, and went to put away his clothes.

After he did as he was told and she handed him the bathing suit. He was stunned when he realized she had given him a girl’s bathing suit. It was a one piece purple bathing suit with little pink flowers on it.

“Hey, I can’t wear this. Don’t you have a boy’s suit?”

“None that are clean. Who’s gonna see you besides me. I think you’ll look cute. Why don’t you try it on and see. I promise I won’t tell anyone” Norman was at a loss. He really wanted to be with Lois and she seemed pretty anxious for him to put on the bathing suit. He was embarrassed at the prospect of having to wear a girls swim suit, but he knew he couldn’t very well walk around naked.

“Hey Norman, what’s taking so long. Come on out. I promise I won’t laugh.”

Reluctantly he slipped on the girl’s swimsuit and shyly stepped out of the bathroom.

“Wow, you do look really cute”, Lois exclaimed. “Let me give you some finishing touches, so you’ll look better in it. I am going to put some water proof eye makeup on you and this bathing cap. This way if anyone does come over, they will think you are a girl.

If the neighbors see you, they won’t think I had a boy come over alone and tell my parents.”

She put her water proof mascara and eyeliner on his eyes, and a touch of eye shadow on his eyelids. She adjusted his bathing cap, and then quickly applied a coat of light red glossy lip stick to his lips, making him look like a real attractive teenage girl with sensual kissable lips. She inserted a pair of foam shaped pads into the top of his swimsuit and adjusted the cups so they looked natural in appearance on him if he were a real girl.

Norman was shocked at her moves and her suggestion but offered no resistance. What she said made some sense to him, and wearing the suit wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, though he wouldn’t admit it, he kind of liked the way the it felt.

The two of them played and swam, and Norman was less aware of how he was dressed. He winced when she started calling him Nancy, but as she explained, if anyone did come over, they would hardly think he was a girl with a name like Norman. They were enjoying themselves so much that they were unaware of the passing of time when they heard the gate open and looked up to see Andrea staring at them.

“Who is your new friend, Lois? I don’t believe I have met a girl like her before. Why it looks like my step brother Norman in drag”, she laughed.

Norman was mortified. If Andrea told his stepmother about him wearing girl’s clothing, she might throw him out of the house. And then where would he go?

“Look, Andrea, I can explain.”

“Save your breath Nancy. When I get these pictures developed, you’ll be the laughing stock of the school. Good job Lois. Did you have any trouble with HER?”

“None at all. It was easy.”

As the realization that the whole thing had been planned by Lois and his step sister hit him, he was crushed and wanted to cry. He had been having such a good time with Lois, and he thought she was really interested in him. All she wanted was to help his step sister humiliate him. He realized he somehow had to deal with Andrea, and convince her not to show the pictures, she was taking of him.

“Please, Andrea, I’ll do anything. Don’t show anyone those pictures”.

“I’m sure you will brother, or should I say sister? From now on you will obey me and do as I say, or these pictures will be spread around school. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Andrea, I understand” he said submissively.

“Now get out of those clothes. We have something more appropriate for you to wear.”

Norman was soon standing naked in front of the two girls. His face was red from the unbelievable embarrassment he felt. He didn’t know what they were going to do with him or why, and was afraid to ask.

“Norman, you know that Lois and I are having a party tomorrow night. Mother insisted that we invite you. She didn’t, however specify how you were to be dressed. Since we are short one girl, we decided that you would be her. We are going to dress you as a girl and teach you to be a girl. Who knows, tomorrow night you may meet Mr. Right”, she laughed.

“The first thing we have to do is remove any unsightly hair from your body. We’ll do it with this cream” said Lois.

She proceeded to rub the depilatory all over his body. She spared no part except his head, and even rubbed his genital area, which responded predictably.

After a few minutes, he felt a burning sensation and was relieved when at last they let him shower. As the cream was rinsed away, so was all his body hair. He was hairless like a new born baby. His skin was as smooth as that of any girl.

After drying himself he stepped into the bedroom where his new clothes were laid out for him. Andrea handed him one garment at a time. He was almost grateful for the cover the panties provided him, and only after they were on did he notice the lace trim. Lois helped him into the yellow bra which matched the panties perfectly. She padded the cups for him.

Next was a slip to match that came barely to mid thigh. She helped him put on his pantyhose and a short yellow dress with a wide black patent leather belt, and a flared skirt that only just covered the slip. They even had a shinny black pair of spiked high heeled shoes which he slipped on to his stockinged feet. Andrea led him to the vanity where she proceeded to make him up.
Foundation, rouge, eye shadow, liner, mascara and a glossy red lipstick soon covered his face. His longish hair was combed into a more feminine style. When she had finished she turned to Lois and said, “I give you Nancy”.

Norman was stunned when he looked into the mirror. The face staring back at him was that of a very cute teenage girl. Though not a beauty queen, certainly an attractive one. He felt all kinds of emotions. Shock, embarrassment, and excitement at the adventure he was to have. The girls had made it clear that for the next 24 hours he would live, act, dress and be a girl. He wasn’t sure what it would entail, but he was beginning to think it might not be so unpleasant, after all.

Chapter 2 – Penetration

“Come, Nancy, we are going for a ride”.

As the reality of his predicament hit him, Norman became extremely nervous and was about to refuse. He remembered, however, his sister’s threat to show the pictures and thought better of it. And, she had taken additional pictures of him dressing in the feminine garments that would only add to his humiliation.

“Where are we going?” Nancy asked as they pulled out of the driveway.

“Well, we thought you might like a new dress to wear to the party tomorrow,” Andrea replied, “and since you have been saving your money, you can afford to buy one”

Nancy became angry as he saw that Andrea had the wallet in which he was saving his money.

“I was saving up for a new stereo. I am not gonna use it to buy a dress”.

“Don’t be silly, a girl would much rather have a new dress, and, in any case, I don’t remember asking you.” “I’m not a girl!”

“Lois, stop the car and we’ll ask a perfect stranger if Nancy is a boy or girl?”

“No! Don’t do that. I’ll buy the dress” he said meekly.

Nancy found herself holding back tears as she wondered why his step sister hated him so much and how far she would go to humiliate him. He knew better than to argue at this point.

Lois parked the car and the three girls got out. Walking very self consciously between Andrea and Lois, Nancy kept her eyes to the ground and dared not look at anyone they passed. She was mortified she would be recognized as a boy.

She was taken into a dress shop, whose name she recognized since Andrea had talked about it. It was where she usually bought her dresses. The owner greeted the two girls by name.

“This is my step brother Norman. He likes and insist he has to dress up like a girl at all times, or at least most of the time. Lois and I agreed to take him shopping here for a new dress and other things he can wear to a party tomorrow night. He insists we call him Nancy.”

Norman was horrified and if he could have found a hole to crawl into he would have.

“Well, I am used to boys coming in here to try on dresses. You would be amazed at how many like to dress up like girls, though many are not here voluntarily. I will let my best salesgirl handle Nancy. She has had much experience with this sort of thing.”

“Maureen, this is Norman, who prefers Nancy. Will you help her to pick out a dress for a party she will be attending tomorrow night?”

She led Nancy to a rack full of party dresses. After taking some measurements, she picked out a couple of dresses and led Nancy to the dressing room.

It was furnished with a comfortable couch and a rack with hangars for the clothes.

“Alright Nancy, take off your dress so that you can try some of these on.”

She started to explain that wearing the feminine attire was not her idea, but Maureen didn’t seem interested. She removed her dress and stood there in the minislip she was wearing, feeling very vulnerable. She tried on several dresses, finally settling on a purple and white see-through. Maureen left the room and came back with a white slip.

“Put this on, it will look better under the dress.”

Nancy was embarrassed to strip that far, but her protests fell on deaf ears. As she removed her slip, Maureen could see the excitement Nancy was feeling.

Maureen locked the dressing room door and moved towards Nancy, who was wearing only her bra and panties. She removed her dress and slip as she advanced on the feminized boy. She reached into Nancy’s panties and grabbed her throbbing cock.

Nancy moaned and found herself being pushed back on the sofa. She reached for Maureen’s tits and soon had one in between her glossy reds lips and gentle sucked it into her mouth. Maureen kept stroking Nancy’s cock, causing her great pleasure but not enough to allow her to come. Suddenly Maureen stopped and climbed on top of Nancy placing her womanhood right over Nancy’s red lips and mouth.

“Eat me!” she said.

It was a command, not a request. Nancy had never done anything like this and was not sure she wanted to, but before she could protest, she found her head buried in Maureen’s muff. With her hands stroking Maurteen’s tits and her tongue working feverishly on her clit, Nancy did not have time to think of her own needs. Suddenly, Maureen stiffened and squeezed her thighs around Nancy’s head. Her juices were running down Nancy’s face, ruining her makeup. Maureen let out a scream, and fell limp on top of the sissified boy.

‘That was wonderful”, she said. “I am going to reciprocate. I will show you what you can expect from the boys at the party”

Nancy didn’t knew what Maureen was talking about. All she knew was she was hard as a rock and needed some release. Maureen removed a plastic dildo from a drawer which she tied around her waist. She applied a coating of lubricant to it and she was now ready.

“Now my dear, I am going to fuck you now, much like a boy would fuck a girl. If you are going to be a girl, you must learn to fuck like one”.

Nancy found herself trembling, but was too frightened to move, as Maureen advanced toward her with that huge cock sticking out. Nancy could guess what she was going to do with that cock, and though scared, lay there as if frozen to the spot.

Once again, Maureen mounted Nancy, only this time she stuck her false penis into Nancy’s rectum. She screamed as the long dick penetrated her asshole. She was lying on her back with her legs in the air and instinctively, she wrapped them around Maureen’s waist. Slowly, Maureen humped her, gradually increasing the depth of her penetration. Despite the discomfort Nancy felt, she was also experiencing a sense of excitement like none she had ever imagined. She could feel her own dick getting harder and harder. As she was approaching a point of no return, Maureen penetrated deeper and deeper until Nancy took the whole length of her dick. The mixed emotions Nancy was feeling caused her to weep and finally when she thought she could take no more, Maureen stopped. Nancy wanted the release that an orgasm would bring, but Maureen was not about to cooperate.

Nancy reached for her manhood, thinking she would finish herself, but Maureen grabbed her hand first. “We’ll have none of that here.”

Before Nancy could protest, she found herself propelled into a cold shower, with her panties around her knees. She was aware of the great embarrassment she had felt before as her excitement subsided, and had to fight to hold back tears as Maureen helped her dress and repaired her makeup.

Chapter 3 – Her First Date

As the three girls left the dress shop, Nancy carried the bag with her new purchases. They got in the car and drove off. Two more stops resulted in new heels, hose and lingerie to go with her new dress. Her stereo fund had a large dent in it.

“Well Nancy, that’s all the purchases for today”, Andrea laughed, as they got into the car and headed for home, or so Nancy thought. Her head was filled with thoughts of her encounter with Maureen, and she was not paying attention to the direction they took. The car came to a stop.

“Alright girls, we’re here. Let’s get a bite to eat. Nancy has enough money left to treat!” said Andrea.

Nancy looked up with a start. They were parked outside the local hamburger hangout. There would certainly be a bunch of kids from school there.

“I’m not really hungry, can’t we please go home, Andrea?”

“No, Lois and I want to eat, and besides, I think it fitting that you treat us for taking you shopping”

The girls went inside and sat down at a table. Lois and Andrea ordered their food. Nancy sat quietly looking down at the table, praying that no one would realize she was not a girl. She only wanted to get out of there and go home.

“Hi Lois, Andrea, who’s your cute friend?”

“Oh, hi Harold. This is my step sister Nancy. She’s visiting me for a few days”, said Andrea.

Nancy was mortified, certain that at these close quarters her gender would be read.

“Would you like to join us, Harold?”, asked Lois.

“Sure, I was just about to get a burger and fries, myself’ he replied, sliding into the booth next to Nancy.

“Hey, are you girls busy tonight? I’m looking for someone to go to the show with.”

“Well, unfortunately, Lois and I are tied up with preparations for the party tomorrow night. I’m unhappy about leaving Nancy alone tonight. I’m sure she would like to go with you, wouldn’t you Nancy?”

Nancy could not believe what she was hearing. She did not want a date with a boy, but the tone of Andrea’s voice made it clear that she could not refuse. In the short time she had been there, she had heard of Harold’s reputation as a ladies’ man, and she wasn’t sure she would know what to do if he made any advances towards her.

“I’ll eat my dinner and we’ll go to the drive-in. We should just make it in time for the show.”

Before Nancy could protest, Lois and Andrea got up to leave. Both Of them with huge smiles on their faces.

“Thanks for taking Nancy tonight, Harold. Please drop her at Lois’ house. Her folks are out of town, and Nancy and I are sleeping there tonight. We’ll see you tomorrow at the party”

Soon they were in Harold’s car on their way to the drive-in. Nancy was quiet, responding to Harold in a soft voice, praying she wouldn’t give herself away.

Harold was much bigger and stronger than she was, and she shuddered to think what would happen if he discovered that he was actually on a date with another male.

Shortly after the movie started, Harold moved close to Nancy. “The steering wheel is in my way”, he said. “I need a bit more leg room.”

Nancy nodded nervously and tried to concentrate on the movie. Maybe he won’t try anything on a first date, she thought, and it might work out ok.

Soon Nancy felt Harold’s arm around her shoulder. His other hand was on her bare thigh. The mini-dress she wore provided little cover. She felt both afraid and excited. She didn’t understand the emotions running through her. She offered no resistance as Harold placed his lips on her shinny glossy red ones of hers. Soon his tongue was on her gums and searching every part of her mouth. In spite of herself, Nancy found herself uncontrollably responding. She could feel his hard dick against her thigh. Harold took her well manicured hand with the long feminine highly polished nails and placed it on his groin.

‘Take it out, Nancy!”

She pulled her hand back. Harold unzipped his fly and took her lovely feminine hand again, placing it on his groin. Frightened of him, she reached slowly for his erection and began to gently stroke it.

The realization of what was happening hit her. She was a boy. She couldn’t make love to another male. She could feel the tears in her eyes. She had to get away from him.

“But how?”, she wondered. “I can’t run away dressed like this.”

“What’s the matter sweetheart?”, asked Harold.

“I..I can’t” stammered Nancy.

“Why not? weren’t you enjoying it?”

“Yes, I was. I just … just can’t tonight”

“Is it that time of the month?”

Nancy breathed a sight of relief. He had given her the perfect excuse.

“Yes, that’s it. I am having my period”

“That’s alright” said Harold, as he put his arms around her again. Before she could protest, he was kissing her as passionately as before. He took her hand and put it back on his prick.

“Stroke it baby, just stroke it”

Nancy did as he requested. She was trapped and decided to make the best of the situation. She thought that if she could make him cum, that would be the end of it.

“Now suck it Nancy”, Harold said, as he gently pushed her head down towards his crotch. Nancy had never imagined anything so big as Harold’s prick. She felt helpless in his arms. She tentatively licked his long pole with her tongue.

“That’s good Nancy. Now take it into your mouth. I want you to taste my cum.”

With that, he grabbed her head with both hands, and forced his penis to slid between her glossy red lips and into her mouth. Nancy thought she would choke on it, but gradually got used to it. As she sucked on his dick, with a steady up and down motion, she could hear him moan. It was obviously giving him a great deal of pleasure. To her surprise, Nancy found her own penis was hard as a rock and felt like it would burst through the flimsy panties she was wearing. At that moment, she felt him spasm, and globs of his warm liquid filled her mouth.

“Swallow it. Swallow all of it”

Nancy tried her best to comply with his request. She took huge gulps of his cum, but despite her efforts, it ran down the sides of her shinny lips and out of her mouth and dripping onto her dress. Leaving its small telltale signs of evidence, of what she had just done to his cock.

Finally, Harold was spent, and he leaned back gasping for breath, still holding Nancy’s head down with his penis in her sexy feminine looking mouth.

“That was wonderful Nancy. I wish I could reciprocate. Maybe when your period is over, you’ll let me do the same for you”

Nancy could only nod as she sat up. She had needs of her own and was not sure how to fulfill them. She realized that she had better hide her own hardon from Harold. She quickly crossed her legs and adjusted her skirt to hide the evidence from him. If he found out she was a male, well, she shuddered to think about it.

“It looks like the movie is over Nancy. I had better take you home. It’s late and I’ll see you tomorrow at the party, won’t I?” She nodded. As they drove home, Nancy thought about her day. She had never dreamed when she got up that morning as Norman, that she would end the day as Nancy, wearing a pretty yellow dress and giving another male head. Harold walked her to the door of Lois’ house. He put his arms around Nancy’s waist and bent over to kiss her. She felt herself getting hard all over again as his tongue entered her mouth. She finally managed to break away from him.

“Good night, Harold”, she whispered, “I’ll see you tomorrow”, and she slipped inside the house.

Chapter 4 – Girls’ Playgirl

“Well, well, well, look who finally came home. Did you enjoy your date with Harold?”, asked Andrea. “I guess you did from the looks of it” she laughed as she stared at the bulge in his dress. “I would say something has turned on our little girl. I wonder what it was. What do you think, Lois?”

Nancy was greatly embarrassed and could feel her face turning a deep shade of red. She was also feeling a great need to satisfy the tension that had built up in her groin. If only it wasn’t so obvious to his stepsister and Lois.

“I think our little friend has tasted something other than her dinner” said Lois. “How do you think her lipstick got smudged and what do you suppose this white stuff is on her face, and also on her dress? This was one of my favorite dresses. You now owe me for a new dress!”

“That’s too bad”, said Andrea, “as I recall she spent all her money today on a new dress for herself, and taking us out to dinner. Maybe she can work it off. She could be your personal maid.”

“Good idea”, said Lois. “She can start right now!”

Nancy was stripped down to her bra and panties, which were still bulging from her unsatisfied needs. She was given a short yellow nightie to put on and led upstairs to the bedroom.

“We can’t have her mess up the sheets”, said Lois. “That thing of hers looks like it will burst any minute.”

“What should we do?” asked Andrea.

Lois got some rope, and soon Nancy’s hands were tied to his thighs.

“You’ll sleep on your back, and don’t try anything during the night”, said Lois.

She was led to the bed where she was ordered to lie on her back in the middle. With her hands tied, it was not a very comfortable position.

“Please untie my hands. I promise I won’t make a mess”, she said.

Her plea was ignored by the two girls, who disappeared into another room. They returned shortly, ready for bed. Both wore sexy babydoll pajamas, with no panties, which only caused Nancy more discomfort, as she could clearly see both girl’s bodies through the transparent material.

Lois got into bed first. She lay next to Nancy, and stroked the inside of her thigh, while kissing her. It was designed to arouse Nancy and it succeeded.

Nancy was delirious with her need. If only Lois would touch her dick, she would explode right there. But Lois had no such intention. She watched as Lois got to her knees. She crawled on top of Nancy, positioning herself over her face.

The feminized male knew what was expected of him. As Lois lowered herself, his tongue strained to reach the honey box of the girl on top. Lois moved around, allowing Nancy’s tongue to find and caress her whole vaginal area. He found her clit, and heard Lois moan in ecstasy. Nancy continued to caress the clit as Lois was beside herself with ecstasy. He then found her vagina and inserted his tongue inside. Lois put all her weight on Nancy’s face, with the bound girl’s tongue in her vagina. She moved her tongue in and out, simulating the action of a prick. Lois moaned again at the great pleasure she was experiencing. She could feel herself building up to a climax as Nancy once again found her clit.

Then Lois tensed, locking her knees around his face, squeezing as hard as she could. Nancy felt the intense pressure, as the girl’s juices ran over her face.

Lois would not let up as her orgasm continued, sending her to new heights. The pain Nancy felt caused tears to come to her eyes and stream down her cheeks, mixing with the vaginal juices of Lois. Finally, Lois reached her climax, and collapsed on top of the bound girl. Nancy lay there weeping, from the pain caused by Lois, and from her own frustration of not being allowed to orgasm.

Her penis was sticking straight up, as hard as it had ever been, but would know no relief tonight.

She lay there, wide awake and frustrated. Lois and Andrea were asleep on either side of her. Her muscles ached from being kept in the one position and her own needs and desires had not been met. She could feel the tears in her eyes as she relived the day.

“I haven’t cried this much since I was a little girl, er boy”, she thought.

“If only I hadn’t put on that girl’s bathing suit, none of this would have happened. But I did enjoy playing with Lois in the pool, and wearing a dress wasn’t all that bad. Yes it was! What am I thinking. I’m a boy and I don’t want to wear a dress”.

Yet his mind wandered to the pretty dress he had bought for the party, and he found himself getting excited thinking about it. He also thought about his date with Harold. He really had enjoyed being held and kissed by the boy and even had enjoyed sucking his prick. He had really thought of himself as a girl, when he had the boy’s prick in his mouth. He found himself thinking of the party, when he would be able to dance with Harold, and felt ashamed. He knew he had to stop thinking like that, but could not stop himself. Then his mind roamed to the dressing room, and his session with Maureen. He imagined he could feel the dildo she used in his ass, and remembered the excitement he had felt. He could taste her sweet juices. He could also taste Lois. She had been the one who he had dressed for in the first place, and he had enjoyed giving her pleasure. He finally had to admit to himself that he was looking forward to the new day. He didn’t know for sure what his stepsister and Lois had in store for him, but he knew it would be as Nancy, and he anticipated it, with both fear and excitement.

Chapter 5 – Queen for a Day

“Well sleeping beauty, it’s time to get up. You have allot of work to do to get ready for the party.”

Nancy woke up, feeling that she had hardly slept at all. She was aware of the ache in her arms, as they remained securely tied to the sides of her body. The girls untied her and led her to the bathroom. They added to her humiliation as they watched her relieve herself, sitting like a girl, and then bathed her, leaving no part of her body untouched. The frustration she had felt yesterday was reborn, but the girls had no intention of satisfying Nancy’s needs.

After her bath they dried and powdered her, and even dabbed some perfume on her neck, and then led the feminized boy to the bedroom to dress. Today, she would be in basic black. Black bikini panties with matching bra and slip, black pantyhose, black patent leather shoes with medium heels, and a black dress with a white lace collar that went halfway down her thighs made up the outfit. After applying her makeup and fixing her hair, Andrea produced a white frilly apron and cap. When Nancy looked in the mirror, she realized that she looked like a maid, and that was what she was going to be.

Nancy spent the morning doing housework. She made breakfast for her mistresses, cleaned the kitchen, bathrooms, made the bed, dusted, vacuumed, and washed clothes. Lois or Andrea, or both were there supervising her every move, and forcing her to do it over if she didn’t accomplish the task to expectations.

Several times she was near tears, and only with great effort was Nancy able to hold them back. By lunchtime, she was exhausted, and she wondered what else they would have come up with for her do.

“You did such a good job as our maid, we are going to reward you, Nancy. We will allow you to go outside this afternoon. It is such a beautiful day, and we wouldn’t want you to miss it”, announced Andrea.

“We have an order at the grocery store for the party tonight. Why don’t you go pick it up. Oh, and don’t get any ideas about not coming back. You will not have any money or keys to our house, and you won’t get far dressed like that.”

“You mean I have to go wearing all these fancy looking girls clothes?” asked Nancy.

“Of course not, silly”, said Lois “Do you think we would make you go out looking like a French maid?”

As Norman heaved a sigh of relief, he heard Lois say “Take off your apron and cap. We’ll comb your hair and fix your makeup. Then you can go to the store.”

Soon Nancy found herself outside the house, with instructions to pick up the groceries and return home. If she wasn’t back in 30 minutes, the whole town would learn of her escapades the last 24 hours. Nancy knew she had no choice but to obey. She had no way of getting away, and even if she did, had nowhere to go. To make matters worse, she was starting to enjoy her new role as a female, and the clothes were exciting her. She was not left alone long enough to satisfy what was becoming an urgent need, at least not until now, and she could hardly relieve her frustrations in the street. She walked to the store, certain that everyone who saw her would know she was not a real girl. To her great relief, people accepted her for what she seemed to be, and in fact, one of the grocery clerks flirted with her and insisted on carrying her groceries home.

When they got home, Andrea was sitting on the front porch with a smile on her face.

“Who’s your friend Nancy?” she asked.

“I..Andrea, this is Robert. He insisted on carrying my groceries.

“Well, Robert I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Nancy’s step sister. We are having a party tonight. Would you like to come? We always have room for an extra person.”

“Sure, it sounds like fun and its a pleasure to meet you too, Andrea. Well, I had better get back to work. See you girls tonight. Good bye Nancy.”

“Oh, g..good bye Robert, and thank you”, she stammered.

“Well Nancy, it looks like you won another heart. What are you going to do with two boys fighting over you tonight. Ha ha, I can hardly wait to see how you handle it. I may take notes. Who knows, maybe I’ll learn something.”

Chapter 6 – The Party

Nancy found herself anxiously waiting for the guests to arrive. She was very nervous and kept looking in the mirror to see if she could detect any flaws.

She hadn’t found any, and in fact was amazed at how pretty she looked in the new dress and shoes. The lace bodice of her slip showed through the dress and made her look very sexy. She felt very feminine, indeed, and prayed she could make it through tonight undetected.

As the first guests arrived, Nancy tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. Andrea and Lois made sure that she was introduced to everyone, however, and she had difficulty remaining in the background.

Harold arrived and made a beeline for her. When he reached her, he gave her a big kiss. Nancy could feel a stirring in her loins as Harold led her to the dance floor, and soon she was in his arms, being swept around the floor. She could not understand why she felt so good, but found herself wishing the dance would never end. Then Robert came, and the next dance belonged to him. Nancy’s nervousness gradually abated when she realized that everyone was accepting her as a girl, and she alternated dances with the two young men who were obviously very interested in her. She found herself thinking it would be nice to spend the night with one of them. Only when she caught sight of Andrea smiling at her, was she jolted back to realty. She excused herself and went to the bathroom. She tried to figure out how to extract herself from her predicament.

Having no experience with warding off unwanted advances from males, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. She was certain that Harold would not take no for an answer, particularly after last night.

“That’s it”, she thought. “If I play up to Robert, then Harold will leave me alone, and than I’ll tell Robert that I don’t screw around on a first date.”

When she returned to the party, the lights had been turned down, and it was obvious that the boys and girls had paired up and found places where they could have some privacy. She soon found Robert on one side of her and Harold on the other. They literally dragged her to another room. She could see that they were angry about something, and it occurred to her that Andrea or Lois may have told them the truth about her. She became very frightened.

“It is obvious Nancy, that you have been playing Robert and I against each other. We are friends, and will not allow any girl to come between us. After last night, I know you are no shy wallflower. As I told Robert, you gave the best head I have ever received, and I think it only appropriate that you do the same for my friend.”

She watched Robert drop his pants as Harold kept a firm grip on her arm. He forced her to her knees with her head next to his friend’s prick. Nancy could feel the tears well up in her eyes, and before she could protest, she found a long, thick pole being forced into her mouth. She could hear him moaning as he held her head steady while thrusting his cock in and out of her mouth. She found that she was enjoying it, as she had the night before with Harold. When Robert finally exploded into her mouth, she was ready for him and swallowed every drop of his creamy liquid.

No sooner had she gotten to her feet when Robert took her in his arms and kissed her, then she became aware of a hand caressing her bottom, and felt her skirt being lifted up above her waist. Panic set in when she felt a hand pulling her nylons and panties down in the back. She knew she was in real trouble if they discovered the secret she had in her pants, but was helpless to do anything to prevent it. Miraculously, Harold saw nothing, intent on satisfying his own needs. He was preparing to penetrate her anus, neither one aware of the bulge in the front of her panties. Robert released her and she found herself on the couch with her ass in the air as Harold entered her. Soon they were in the throes of ecstasy. It did not take long for Harold to shoot his load. The pretty boy could feel the warm liquid shooting up his ass. It was an incredible feeling, as Nancy imagined herself a girl, receiving her boyfriend’s sperm in her vagina. She also had an urgent need and wasn’t sure how to take care of it.

The excitement of the past 24 hours was catching up with her, and he realized that she could not contain herself much longer. If she came, she would give away her secret, but she was powerless to prevent it any longer. The friction of her panties rubbing against her erection was enough to cause her to erupt, soaking her new undies with her cum.

Nancy collapsed on the couch with Harold on top of her. She began to cry. Harold slowly lifted himself off the prostrate boy. Nancy rolled off the couch, pulling her dress down in the front, and praying it had not been stained. She got to her feet, pulled up her panties and ran off to the bathroom.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that her cum had not seeped through to her dress. Her new panties were soaked through and her slip was damp. She removed her panties along with her pantyhose. Her first thought was that she hoped they wouldn’t be permanently stained, but realized her first priority was to make it through the rest of the night without being discovered.

Then checking to be sure no one would see her, she made her way to Lois’ bedroom, leaving her cum soaked panties in the bathroom. Fortunately the bedroom was empty. She borrowed a pair of the girl’s panties, realizing that she would probably be punished for it, and replaced her nylons. Then she checked her hair and repaired her makeup, and made her way back to the boys.

When she returned, Robert was gone.

“He has to get up early tomorrow to go to work. He sent his apologies” said Harold. “This means I have you all to myself. Let’s get out of here for a while and go for a walk.”

Figuring that she might be safer outside, Nancy agreed. Holding hands they walked several blocks, coming to a park. They went into the park and stood by the lake watching the moon rise on a beautiful night. She soon found herself in his arms engaged in some heavy kissing. She could feel his erection growing again along with her own. She held her knees tightly together hoping it would subside, but his kisses were exciting her and she realized that her dress was now sticking out like a tent. Before she could stop him, she felt his hand reach under her skirt, caressing the inside of her thigh. He brought his hand up, brushing it against her prick. Then he grabbed it.

“What’s the meaning of this he said?” as he lifted her skirt all the way up, so he could see the bulge in her panties. “Pull down your panties!”

Afraid of him, she dropped them enough so that he could see her erection pop out. She stood there, shivering with fear, as he looked at her with disbelief.

He approached her and surprising her dropped to his knees in front of her. He took her in his mouth and began to suck it. Nancy was shocked, never having had this done to her before and moaned with the pleasure it gave her. When she finally erupted, Harold eagerly drank the warm cum, swallowing every drop. Then they switched positions, and Nancy, anxious to please her new friend did the same. Afterward they embraced, kissing more passionately than before.

“This will be our little secret. Ok?”

“Yes!” Nancy responded. For the first time since her masquerade began, she was totally at ease.

They walked back to the party with Nancy clinging to him. When they got back to the house, the party had broken up. Harold gave her a quick kiss and left. Nancy stared after him as he got in his car and drove off, dreaming about being with him again.

Chapter 7 – Still a Girl

Reality hit her as she walked into the house. Lois and Andrea were waiting for her. They took the hapless boy upstairs and stripped him down to his panties and bra.

“Those are my panties!” said Lois. “What are you doing with them?”

“I..I..I had a little accident” Nancy replied, meekly.

“Did you lose your panties while screwing one of your boyfriends?” asked Andrea sarcastically.

Nancy did not reply, but hung his head in shame realizing the implications of his evening’s activities.

“You have to learn you can’t just take someone else’s possessions!” said Lois.

She grabbed him by the arm and threw him to the ground. Norman was shocked at her strength, and before he could get up, she jumped on his back. She began to spank him, and despite his efforts to throw her, he found he was too weak.

“You’re just a little sissy!” she cried. “Making you wear a dress was just what you wanted, wasn’t it? Maybe we should keep you in skirts all the time. You could even go to school in a dress. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“No, no!” he cried. “I wouldn’t. Please stop, you’re hurting me.”

Nancy was crying as his pantied ass became sore from the spanking. Finally she stopped, and ordered him to stand. Still crying he scrambled to his feet, covering his genital area.

“Put your hands at your sides, you sniveling baby!”

He did as ordered, revealing his erection.

“You know, Lois, I believe he enjoyed it. I think he likes dressing up like a girl and being spanked, don’t you Nancy?”
The pantied boy stood there with his head down, trying to stop the flow of tears. The two girls stood there staring at him until he finally gained control of his emotions. His erection, however, had not subsided and was evidenced by the bulge in his panties. Andrea reached into his panties and pulled out his prick.

“Stroke it Nancy!”

Afraid to disobey for fear he would again be spanked, he began to stroke himself. He didn’t want to cum in front of them, but he was too excited, and in spite of his own wishes, his milky liquid shot, splattering on his step sister who stood right in front of him. Once he began to cum, he relaxed a little and enjoyed himself, and didn’t stop stroking himself until he was dry.

Andrea was angry that he had cum on her dress and slapped him hard in the face, again bringing tears to his eyes.

“You better hope it doesn’t stain my dress” she said, “or you’ll owe me a new one!”

The two girls led Nancy to the bathroom where they discovered his cum soaked panties.

“It looks like are little Nancy had a busy night” said Lois, causing him to blush.

“Now wash out my dress!” said Andrea.

“And my panties!” said Lois.

“And you might as well wash those” said Andrea pointing to the panties Nancy left in the bathroom.

Standing there in only his bra, he hand washed the delicate items and hung them to dry. He was then led back to the bed room where he was dressed in light blue baby doll pajamas. Again his hands were tied to his thighs and he was put into bed. The girls were too tired tonight for any extra curricular activity, and it wasn’t long before the three of them were soundly asleep.

Chapter 8 – A Maid Again

They were jarred awake early the next morning by the phone. Lois got up to answer it and when she returned she got the others up.

“It was my folks. They’ll be home by noon. We’ve got to get this place cleaned up!”

They quickly untied Nancy and ordered him to put on the black dress he had worn the previous morning. He would again be the maid. This time, however, the girls pitched in to help and by 11:00, the house was spotless.

“One more thing to do.” said Andrea.

“What’s that?” asked Lois.

“The bathtub in your parent’s bathroom.” “But it’s already clean.”

“It won’t be after we bathe” smiled Andrea.

The two girls and Nancy stripped and got into the huge tub. They relaxed in the bubbles for half an hour before getting out.

Nancy, naked, was ordered to clean the tub. He was dressed in a yellow short sleeved sweater, tight denim miniskirt, yellow bobby sox and tennis sneakers. As he had for the previous day and a half, he looked just like a teenage girl.

“What are you doing?” asked Lois. “You don’t want him to meet my parents dressed like that, do you?”

“Trust me!” said Andrea, as she finished putting on his makeup.

Any fight Nancy had left was taken out of him by the spanking Lois had given him the night before, and he had submitted meekly to their demands this morning. The prospect of meeting her parents while dressed as a girl, shocked him out of his trance, and he began to protest, hoping Lois would side with him.

Andrea, however, was in full control of the situation, and slapped him a few times until he calmed down.

“You will do as I say, little sister, or I will take you over my knee!”

That calmed him down immediately as he realized she was quite capable of doing just that, and would probably enjoy it. The three of them had just gone downstairs when they heard the key in the lock. Nancy was petrified, Lois a bit nervous, but Andrea seemed full of confidence. Her plan was working to perfection.

Lois greeted her parents as they walked in, giving them both a hug and kiss.

Andrea also hugged them and then introduced them to Nancy.

‘This is my new step sister, Nancy!”

“But I thought you had a step brother. Your mother said nothing about a girl?” Lois mother said.

“You must have misunderstood. Nancy is definitely a girl, aren’t you?” she said as she turned to the skirted boy. He nodded but said nothing.

“We have to go home now. Lois, I’ll see you tomorrow. Come on Nancy, let’s go!”

She grabbed him by the arm and threw him to the ground. Norman was shocked at her strength, and before he could get up, she jumped on his back. She began to spank him, and despite his efforts to throw her, he found he was too weak.

“You’re just a little sissy!” she cried. “Making you wear a dress was just what you wanted, wasn’t it? Maybe we should keep you in skirts all the time. You could even go to school in a dress. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“No, no!” he cried. “I wouldn’t. Please stop, you’re hurting me.”

Nancy was crying as his pantied ass became sore from the spanking. Finally she stopped, and ordered him to stand. Still crying he scrambled to his feet, covering his genital area.

“Put your hands at your sides, you sniveling baby!”

He did as ordered, revealing his erection.

“You know, Lois, I believe he enjoyed it. I think he likes dressing up like a girl and being spanked, don’t you Nancy?”
The pantied boy stood there with his head down, trying to stop the flow of tears. The two girls stood there staring at him until he finally gained control of his emotions. His erection, however, had not subsided and was evidenced by the bulge in his panties. Andrea reached into his panties and pulled out his prick.

“Stroke it Nancy!”

Afraid to disobey for fear he would again be spanked, he began to stroke himself. He didn’t want to cum in front of them, but he was too excited, and in spite of his own wishes, his milky liquid shot, splattering on his step sister who stood right in front of him. Once he began to cum, he relaxed a little and enjoyed himself, and didn’t stop stroking himself until he was dry.

Andrea was angry that he had cum on her dress and slapped him hard in the face, again bringing tears to his eyes.

“You better hope it doesn’t stain my dress” she said, “or you’ll owe me a new one!”

The two girls led Nancy to the bathroom where they discovered his cum soaked panties.

“It looks like are little Nancy had a busy night” said Lois, causing him to blush.

“Now wash out my dress!” said Andrea.

“And my panties!” said Lois.

“And you might as well wash those” said Andrea pointing to the panties Nancy left in the bathroom.

Standing there in only his bra, he hand washed the delicate items and hung them to dry. He was then led back to the bed room where he was dressed in light blue baby doll pajamas. Again his hands were tied to his thighs and he was put into bed. The girls were too tired tonight for any extra curricular activity, and it wasn’t long before the three of them were soundly asleep.

Chapter 9 – Auntie’s New Niece

On the walk home they met several people Andrea knew. She introduced to Nancy to all of them as her step sister. They also ran into some of the kids who were at the party the previous night. Nancy wondered how she could ever appear in town as Norman. Everyone would know he had been dressing like a girl. The more he thought about it, the more depressed he became. By the time they got home, he felt like crying.

“Don’t even think about changing your clothes, Nancy!”

He was sufficiently afraid of his step sister by now that he meekly obeyed her, and the two of them were sitting in the living room when Andrea’s mother arrived home. She noticed Nancy sitting there, but did not recognize her. After greeting her daughter she asked about Norman and wanted to meet Andrea’s new friend.

‘This is Norman, mother, though when he dresses like this he wants to be called Nancy.”

Mrs. Malone stood there stunned. She stared at the pretty girl sitting on the sofa, looking sad and afraid. Finally, she realized that the feminine looking creature with the shapely legs showing beneath her miniskirt was, indeed, her stepson.

“What’s the meaning of this, Norman?”

Norman wanted to die right there. Before he could answer, Andrea spoke up, and he was forced to listen to her distorted story about his feminization.

“I can explain, mother” said Andrea, “please sit down. It started Friday afternoon. Lois invited him to go swimming but Norman used it as an excuse to get undressed and try on her clothes. I came over and there he was, wearing one of Lois’ dresses. Not only that, but her underwear and makeup.”

‘That’s not the way it was!” cried Norman.

“Quiet! Are you calling Andrea a liar? Continue dear!”

“He apologized for putting on her dress and begged us to get him some girl’s clothing of his own. Maybe we were wrong, mother, but we felt sorry for him and took him shopping. We bought him a complete outfit. He has been dressed like a girl since then, even going to the party as a girl. I think he made out with Harold, last night. I loaned him the outfit he’s wearing, after he begged me.

Please don’t be hard on him. He’s just confused.”

“So, all of the kids at the party, the same ones he’ll go to school with, thinks he is a girl” her mother said.

“Also Lois’ folks and several other people we met today on the way home. Almost everyone thought you said you had a step son, but he convinced them you had a step daughter. I don’t know how you’ll explain it.”

Mrs. Malone sat there quietly for awhile, looking at her sissy step son. He sat there demurely with his legs crossed, a touch of lace from his pretty white slip showing and looking very self conscious.

“He really does look like a girl” she thought to herself. “He needs some instruction in female mannerisms and behavior, but he is very feminine.”

“Alright” she said. “Nancy, you will remain in the house for the next several days while I decide what to do. During that time you will wear only girl’s clothing which you will borrow from Andrea. Andrea, you will lend Nancy any clothes she wants. Is this clear to both of you?”

“Yes mother” they both responded together.

Chapter 10 – Decision Day

Several days later, Mrs. Malone called the girls together to tell them of her decision.

“Nancy, I have decided that you will remain a girl. The two of you will take all of your male clothing and put it in boxes. It will be given to charity. We will shop for a new wardrobe of girls’ clothing for you over the next week. I have scheduled you for a breast implant next week. Whether or not we ultimately change your sex will be decided at a later date.”

Hearing that, Norman began to cry. This had gone a lot farther than he ever thought it would. He begged his step mother to reconsider, but she said that her decision was final, and that he had brought it all on himself, when he decided to wear all those frilly and pretty girls clothes.

“Furthermore” she continued, you have been enrolled at Ms. Kate’s School for Young Ladies as has your sister. The two of you will be roommates, since we can’t very well have Nancy rooming with another girl.”

Now it was Andrea’s turn to object, but she too found her mother was adamant.

Mrs. Malone did not think Andrea’s story rang true and had suspected that Andrea was behind the whole affair. She felt that the damage done, however, could not be easily undone and that keeping her step son in skirts was the best solution.

Sending Andrea to school with Nancy was her way of punishing her, since she knew her daughter would object.

As promised, Nancy’s wardrobe was replaced with skirts, blouses, dresses, lingerie, and all of the accessories appropriate for a seventeen year old girl.

He was told he would finish high school as a girl, and if he chose to move away at that time, he could again resume his male identity.

Nancy never did wear pants again, though he still has his male equipment. Lois was sworn to secrecy as were the two women in the dress shop. It took awhile for him to accept his fate, but once he did he learned to enjoy his femininity.

Andrea, once over her anger, treated him like the sister he had become, sharing her clothes with her, giving her advice about boys, and became very protective of her sister. Nancy and Harold dated when she was home on school breaks.

After college they were married. Though she cannot have children, he revels in being Harold’s wife and taking care of him, as a good wife should.

The End

Trained to Be a Girl

Trained to be a girl
It was just to be a romantic, ordinary kind of evening, but little did this macho horndog realize the spell of femininity Ava would have him under. Make-up, panty girdle, garter belt, real silk hose, sling backs. She knows how to make him a “her”, to play with just the way She wants. Her little bitch whore is doing everything she is told!

A Maid is Made

a maid is made!

“Damn, Damn, Damn,” Jeff exclaimed as he threw the classified section of the morning paper on his bedroom floor. “To get a job today you gotta be a broad!”

Jeff Peatrie was an unemployed actor and had been out of work, any kind of work, for three months. He usually worked in Broadway musicals, but the musicians had been on strike for a long time, so that avenue had been cut offto him. Worse than that, the job situation for males in Manhattan was virtually non-existent.

“Secretaries, department store help, household cooks –that’s what they want. Maids … maids … that might be an idea. My girl friends tell me that I’m too pretty for their tastes, and there was the show that I developed that high, falsetto voice,” Jeff mused with his chin thoughtfully in his hand. “Falsies, a dress, a wig … make-up will be no problem with my show-biz training.”

Three hours later Jeff returned with an armload of packages. He went into the bedroom and lay them down on the bed, thinking as he removed a pair of opera-length white kid gloves from a slender box, “I hated to spend the money for these, but my arms are just too masculine. I’d be spotted in a second.”

He opened the packages and spread the contents on the bed. There was an extremely large white lace bra, and an equally large pair of falsies to fill it, an exquisite white leather corset to squeeze in his mid-section and thrust out his bottomcheeks, a skimpy pair of white nylon panties, a

black satin maid’s uniform with a frilly white cap and apron. Sheer black nylons and skyscraper-heeled black patent leather sling-back pumps completed the array that he spread out on his bed.

Jeff had been repulsed at the idea of dressing up in female clothing. But as he handled the silky garments, felt their wondrously smooth texture, his penis began to swell in his trousers as he thought about having these garments next to his skin.

“The corset’s going to be the toughest, I’d better start with that,” he mused as he stripped quickly, startled to see his penis ramrod-stiff and swaying ponderously to and fro in front of him. “Oh, you like the idea, do you, Buster?” he laughed.

Fortunately the corset was multi-boned, so it stood up by itself as Jeff wrapped it around his waist. Lacing proved very difficult. He just couldn’t find the eyelets with the rawhide lace. He solved this by standing with his back to a mirror. It was difficult to exert the proper amount of pressure with his arms awkwardly behind his back, but Jeff was strong and somehow he managed it, little chilis coursing up and down his spine at the wonderful sensation of the fine leather on his bare flesh.

With the greatest difficulty he managed a bow at the top, and then he stepped back from the mirror to survey the result.

“My God, if it wasn’t for old Buster wagging back and forth with approval, I’d take you for a girl already,” he grinned, for the squeezing qualities of the corset had given him an hour-glass shape. He knew that the addition of falsies and bra would make him sensational.

There was one package that he hadn’t opened, and he took this into the bathroom. He took out a short, black wig, and some make-up paraphernalia. Looking in the bathroom mirror, he painted his lips richly, going over his own outline and creating a Cupid’s bow effect. Expertly he added some light blue eye shadow, then brushed mascara on his lashes. Finally he rubbed some rouge into his cheeks briskly. When he added the close-fitting wig, Jeff Peatrie had been transformed into a ravishing woman.

“If I can keep from getting a hard on, I’U never be spotted,” he chuckled as he returned to the bedroom and began the difficult task of tugging on the long white kid gloves.

He had noticed how women work each finger individually into a glove before tugging the remaining portion over their arms, so he copied them and it worked beautifully. Then it was the pair of white nylon panties’ turn. Immediately he realized that he should have bought a larger pair. These were not designed to contain the bulk of a man’s genitals, especially those in the swollen state of Jeff’s. It was an impossible task. He let them snap shut over his testicles, and he chuckled at the erotic effect of his rigid manhood swaying over his panty-clad testicles.

A Maid is Made

Blood coursed hotly through his veins, and his pulse raced as he tugged on the dusky nylon stockings. The taut effect of the tissue-thin fabric on his legs was just as sensational to him as the tightness of his corset and gloves, and his erect penis beat the air with renewed vigor.
He drew down the elasticised garter straps and clipped them to the tops of the hose, they in turn stretching the sheer nylons upwards into inverted V’s. The sleek black nylons had made his legs shapely, devastating, completely feminine, and when he slipped the sling-back pumps on his feet, the six inch heels lengthened his legs, making them even more sensational.

Then Jeff turned his attention to the bra. When it was on the cups hung limply on his chest, but the falsies soon solved this problem. He practised walking in the unfamiliar stilt-heels. It was awkward at first, forcing him to walk in little mincing steps, but after fifteen minutes of walking around his bedroom, he had mastered the art sufficiently to venture forth.

The black satin maid’s uniform fitted his now completely feminine body like wet tissue paper. Putting the white cap and apron into a purse that he had purchased, Jeff left his apartment, ready as he ever would be … for action. What kind of action he couldn’t imagine.

Claire Vantassel was in a black mood. Her advertisement in the Times for a personal maid had gone unanswered for three days. “Times certainly have changed. Nowdays a girl would rather go on unemployment or relief before she’d be a personal maid to anyone,” she thought as she stormed back and forth in her bedroom, her floor-length black lace negligee flowing behind her, her huge breasts jiggling enticingly in the confines of her matching lace black longline bra.

She wouldn’t have been quite so upset if she had known that at that moment someone was approaching her posh apartment house in the east eighties, coming to apply for the job.

On the sidewalk outside, Jeff was getting a charge out of the effect he was having on the male onlookers as he passed by, his legs flashing in their sheathing of black nylon as they reflected the rays of the mid-day sun, the big, falsie-stuffed bra thrusting arrogantly at the front of his high-necked uniform. He almost stopped traffic. Cabbies honked their horns, truck drivers whistled.

As he approached a building under construction, Jeff noticed a group of hard-hats sitting along a high wood fence that ran along the sidwalk, eating their lunch. His tendency was to cross the street and avoid trouble, but he decided to continue on past them. If anyone could tell he was a fraud, it would be a group of close-inspecting, horny hard-hats.

A Maid is Made

Men stopped chewing, their mouths dropped open, as Jeff swivel-hipped his way by them, his spike-heels clicking on the sidewalk. A handsome, muscular blond worker rose and as Jeff passed by he pinched his rump, grinning, “How about it, baby? Ya got a date tonight?” Jeff turned and lowered his right fist almost to the sidewalk, then with all of the power in his strong arm he smashed the impudent worker on the point of his jaw, with an uppercut sending him flying into the board fence, where he crashed down in a heap, unconscious. The workers on that particular site were to talk of nothing else for the next few weeks other than the broad with the unbelievable punch.

Claire Vantassel was quite impressed with the lovely young woman who applied for the job. Perhaps she was a bit too lovely, a bit too sexually appealing. After all, she had a husband, and he was all male. She had better keep on eye on him. She had introduced herself as Bobette, and she had a delightful French accent. A bit throaty perhaps, but after all hadn’t every French chanteuse she had ever heard been on the throaty side?

To Jeff’s horror he found his manhood rising to a whopping erection as he drank in Mrs. Van-tassel’s incredible pulchritude, so devastatingly revealed by her close-fitting, black-lace negligee, black mesh stockings and long-line bra, her garter straps deliciously framing a massive black pelt that ran upwards almost to her navel.

Quickly he damped his purse over his groin.

She offered him a chair, and he sat down, his legs spread, his purse held firmly in his lap, for if he hadn’t it would have been dancing all over the place.

“Your duties actually will be very simple,” Mrs. Vantassel was saying. “You’11 tend to my wardrobe, see that everything is clean and pressed at all times. When I rise in the mornings I will tell you what I intend to wear.

You will lay it out on my bed and then assist me with my bath. Then you will help me dress.”
Jeff’s knees grew weak. He had to apply additional pressure on the purse or it would have flown to the ceiling.

The prospect of bathing this ravishing blonde creature, then dressing her, was a bit too much for him to take all at once.

Suddenly Jeff’s new employer took a pack of cigarettes off of her dressing table and tossed it into his lap, saying, “Give me a cigarette and light it, please.”

Jeff brought his knees together and caught the pack of cigarettes, horrified because he knew that in order to light her cigarette in no way could he hold the purse over his raging boner at the same time. He fumbled in his purse for some matches. When he found one and looked up, he was delighted to find that she was standing directly in front of him, her face almost obscured by her enormous, jutting breasts. He wouldn’t have to rise, so he was safe. He handed her a cigarette, and he couldn’t keep his hand from shaking as he struck a match and offered her a light.

Female-like, she cupped the back of his quivering hand, excitement, racing through him at the delightful contact, her talon-like, brilliantly-painted nails, the type that only a woman of leisure could nurture and grow, resting like a cat’s claws on the back of his hand.

In the privacy of the room that had been set aside for him, Jeff did a lot of thinking that night. If a simple little thing like the touch of her hand on his would cause him to almost blow his mind, he would certainly pass out when he attempted to bathe and dress this awesome-busted woman. His penis would prove a constant problem. He couldn’t carry his purse with him as he performed his duties. The apron would help. It was small but it was frilly and fluffy. It just might do the job.

Other thoughts were bothering him. He liked the feeling of the feminine garments on his body. Walking along the street he had loved the tautness of his hose and garter straps, the way the straps tightened, stretching his stockings to the bursting point, then loosened with his steps. He was thrilled by the sensation of the cold garter clasps as they dug into his thigh. He even liked the constricting feeling of his corset and gloves. Jeff had heard much about transvestites and had always been disgusted at the thought of them … was he becoming one? The following morning, Jeff was startled to find that he just couldn’t wait to get into the array of garments that hung neatly over a chair. He managed the corset easier this time. He lingered over his stockings, literally caressing them upwards over his legs, excitedly attaching the garter clasps. Then he ran his hands over his silky limbs, marveling at the sensation of the ivory-smooth nylon, as thrilled as though he were handling a girl’s legs rather than his own. In short, Jeff was a very confused young man when he approached his employer’s bedroom.
Mrs. Vantassel was awake, stretching, as Jeff carefully opened the door.

“Pour my bath, Bobette. Make it a bubble bath. You’ll find the bottle in the medicine cabinet.”
“Oui, Madame,” Jeff replied in his girlish voice as he went into the master bath and turned on the water, getting the bubble bath liquid from the medicine closet and pouring some into the rapidly filling tub. He turned and almost collapsed on the spot as he saw his ravishing employer appraoching, completely naked, her bare feet padding on the thick shag rug, her gigantic breasts swaying heavily back and forth like two goatskin bags filled with milk, her enormous aureoles and nipples like twin beacons in a storm.

Jeff had an instant erection, but the soft folds of his apron disguised the fact nicely. He breathed a sigh of relief as his mistress settled her awesome assortment of ripe curves into the water. To his utter amazement her great teats floated on the water in front of her, bobbing about in the bubbles like twin beach bails in a frothy surf.

“I-is eet too hot, Madame?” queried Jeff as he had all he could do to resist the temptation to take one of those great, milky globes in his hands and smother it with frantic kisses.

“No, it’s just the way I like it, Bobette. Wash my back for me, please,” she replied sweetly, her gigantic globes bobbing about madly now as she scooped some soapy water on them.

She leaned forward as Jeff began to wash her back with the cloth, her breasts seemingly detached and apart from her as they bobbed further in front of her, the aureoles and nipples a brilliant red and glistening from their sudsy coating.

“Do my breasts for me now, sweetheart,” Mrs. Vantassel smiled when he had finished her back, leaning against the back of the tub now, her great teats riding higher in the sudsy water now.
Jeff’s manhood began to thump against the side of the tub as he hesitated for a moment. Dare he pick one of those enticing morsels up in order to wash it properly? It would seem the thing to do.

Boldly, Jeff slid his right hand beneath a massive globe and hoisted it out of the water, his hand almost disappearing from sight in its pillowing softness. It was tremendously heavy, like a basketball filled with water, as he meticulously washed the upper portion, then repeated the process with its mate.

Later, Jeff was in the bedroom, going through the delicious process of dressing his Mistress. First he had pulled on her stockings, spending much more time than was necessary to accomplish the delightful task. She had chosen a black leather corset with a demi-bra that served to merely cup the undersides of her enormous gourds and shape them upwards and out. The corset he had managed, the laces tied in a bow at the back. Now he was standing behind her attempting to stuff her swollen breasts into their cups. No apron could disguise the boner he now possessed, but fortunately her back was to him.

Suddenly to his horror she thrust her rump backwards and wriggled it against his hard on, forcing it into her ass-cleavage, giggling, “My goodness, but you have a big erection for me this morning … young man.” “Y-Young man?”

“Yes, I’ve known all along,” she smiled wickedly, spinning around and lowering herself to her knees and fumbling for his organ.

“S-Since when?”

“Since you sat down in the chair yesterday.” She inserted her hand into his panties, searching for the erection she knew was there.

“Y-You saw my erection?”

“Not at all. A woman sits with her legs together, or crossed, never with them wide apart.” She had his manhood out now, stroking the taut flesh back and forth easily, licking her full, lips till they shown wickedly.

A Maid is Made

“A … A simple thing like that gave me away?” “Not entirely. I was only suspicious. Did you ever read Huckleberry Finn?”

“I … I think so.”

“Remember the part where Aunt Fanny dropped something into Huck’s lap when he was dressed as a girl, and rather than spreading his legs to catch it as a woman would who is accustomed to wearing a skirt, he gripped it with his knees?”

“Oh yes.”

“Well, you did the same thing with the pack of cigarettes.” The astute Mrs. Vantassel opened her luscious, carmine-laden lips wide apart and swooped forward like a vulture after its prey.

THE END

Additional Reading

A Second Job

Second Job

By Jerri Bush

You don’t have to remind me. I promised if Leslie actually did help me try being a bunny, I’d let you know.

I’m almost sorry now that I said it, because things didn’t go at all as we’d planned, but a promise is a promise so here goes.

I imagine, after the first time Leslie helped me dress up, that we were closer than ever before. For one thing we could suddenly talk to each other, without restraint.

We had shared thoughts that were very private, or at least that we’d thought of as private, and by doing that had discovered a lot about ourselves.
I mean, if you’d told me six months earlier that I’d be going out with my gift friend about once a week wearing a dress, bra, bikinis, heels, make-up and a wig, I would have laughed at you, or punched you or something.

But here I was doing it.

I loved all the feminine touches: lipstick (Have you ever noticed that lipstick doesn’t smell like anything else on earth?), nail polish (which actually smells like automotive touch-up paint, but looks neat all the same …), the way my clothes would pick up the scent of my perfume and … well … everything.
The really weird thing, at least to me, was that sex was so much better now, and it had been pretty good before. I think it may be that we were letting ourselves be ourselves, if you get what I mean.

We were lying in bed one morning … well … one afternoon actually, when Leslie brought up the subject of being a bunny again.

“You know,” she began thoughtfully, running a finger from the top of my neck to the base of my spine, “if you’re going to try being a bunny, we’re going to have to make some changes in you.”

“Changes?”

“Well, for one thing, you’ll have to let your hair grow.

The wig looks good, and it’s fine for an evening out, but as a bunny you’ll be under close scrutiny, and it will have to be your own hair.”

“Ummm,” I said, considering the idea of close scrutiny for the first time, “maybe it would be better if we don’t…”

“Doesn’t the idea still appeal to you?”

“Well … sure … maybe more than ever.”

“Then I think we ought to give it a try. You’ll hate yourself if you never do it.”
“I don’t know …”

“Oh, I think you can do it if you put yourself in my hands.”

“Now the part about putting myself in your hands, I like.” And suiting action to words, I did just that.

Leslie didn’t insist, but I knew she was right. By now I

knew I was pretty well committed to letting out the feminine side of my personality.

Once I’d begun, I realized it was something I’d been suppressing a long time. I knew, too, that I couldn’t do that any more.

“When,” I said a few days later, “do you think we ought to aim for?”

Leslie looked me up and down. “About nine months from now.”

I was taken aback. “That bad?” I said.

“No, silly,” she laughed, “but it’ll take about that long for your hair to get to the right length. And we’ll have to teach you all about being a bunny. There’s not too much, but we can’t risk your making a mistake over some simple thing you should know.”

“Nine months ..”

“Well, I’m also choosing that time because lots of the gifts are on vacation. That’s when it will be easiest to get you into the club. We’ll have to pick a night when Joyce isn’t around.”

“Joyce?”

“The Hutch Keeper.”

“The what?”

“You know, I’ve told you about Joyce, the terror of the dressing room.”

“Oh, the one who always gets after you if your locker isn’t neat and stuff like that?”

“She’s the one. I don’t know if I ever told you about her being Hutch Keeper before, but I always thought it was such a silly title.”

“I do think “manager” would be more dignified.” “Dignified isn’t what they were aiming for. Cute is what they were aiming for.”

“In that case they scored a bull’s-eye.”

“Bull’s eye is not quite it.”

“I get your point. Say … isn’t Joyce one of the girls who you thought might.., urn.., well..”

“Take more than a business interest in some of the other girls?”
“Right.”

“I kind of think so. I mean, she’s never made a pass at me or anything, but she’s different somehow. Sometimes I almost feel like she can see right through our bunny outfits.”

“In that case let’s definitely wait until she’s not there!” I said.

So we went to work. I began to learn all the proper techniques for handling trays, writing up checks, fending off customers and so on.

We worked a lot on my voice, using a tape recorder. I

didn’t have to worry a whole lot about what to say, since a bunny’s responses are pretty well standardized.

I went down to the club now and then to see Leslie and her co-workers in action. We’d decided that I’d only do this at the beginning. It wouldn’t do for any of the other girls to get to know me well enough to recognize on sight.
I also saw Joyce now and then. She was a tall woman with a beautiful figure. Leslie said she had started as a bunny herself, and I could believe it. Unfortunately that also meant she had a pretty good idea of what was going on and didn’t let much slip by.

Of course I already knew Bobbi and Audrey, two of the bunnies. In a way they were responsible for this all happening, but I explained all that last time.
Luckily Bobbi was going to start graduate school in another state before our target date which meant we’d only have to worry about Audrey.

I was practicing the “Bunny Bend” one night at Leslie’s (Bunnies bend at the knees not at the waist – no use tempting fate or the customers) and Leslie said, “I hope there’s no trouble about your hair. I love it long, but your boss …”

“Don’t worry about that.” I replied in mid-bend “Long hair in a campus bookstore is about as conspicuous as a pair of jeans. There are a couple of guys on the other shift who have hair longer than I’ll ever have.”

“That’s good to know. What’ll we call you?” “What?”

“Well, Howard is hardly a suitable name for a bunny.” “Yeah, well, I never really thought…”

“I don’t even think there’s a feminine variant of Howard.”

“If there is, I don’t want to know about it.” “How about Helen?”

“Ugh. Sounds too much like a soap opera.” “Well, you think of one. No, wait, how about Hester?” “Too much like something out of first semester American Literature. Just the same … say … what about ‘Heather’?”

“Heather … Heather … you know, that’s not bad. It fits you pretty well, too. Not too frivolous, but not black stockings and sociology texts either. 1 like it if you do.” “I think so. Here’s to Operation Heather!”

Operation Heather, as it was christened that night, swung right along for the next few months.

Then, about seven weeks before we were scheduled to go into action, we had our first setback.

I was sitting in front of the make-up mirror, thinning my eyebrows, when Leslie came in.

“How did it go?” I asked.

“Rotten! Rotten, rotten, rotten!”

“That good, eh? Tell me about it.”

“Gloria is leaving.”

“That’s really terrible. Who’s Gloria?”

“One of the girls at the club. I was counting on using one of her outfits for you. We don’t have anybody else your size.”

“Couldn’t we just make one?”

“Ha. I’ll let you have a good look at one. They’re not something you just whip out on the sewing machine.” Of course Leslie was right. The bunny outfit was as much a piece of corsetry as an outer garment.

“I’m not supposed to have this here,” she said.

“Why not,” I said, “it’s yours isn’t it?”

“No, it belongs to the club. They own them all. They even check our lockers now and then, to make sure they’re all there.”

I thought a minute. “What happens to Gloria’s outfits.

I mean exactly.”

“Well, she’ll leave them when she goes. They’ll send them back and when they hire someone else they’ll have new ones made to the new girl’s measurements.” “Does this happen often?”

“Fairly often. There’s usually someone just leaving or

just coming on.”

“So they might not notice an extra requisition?” “Well I … you may be … Howard, I’ve just figured out one reason I love you.

“Oh?”

“You have a devious mind.”

“It’s the company I keep.”

That part of the plan went remarkably smoothly.

Leslie got hold of a requisition form, filled it out with “Heather’s” measurements, and slipped it in with the others for the new girl.

“It was really funny,” she told me later, “the new girl tried out two that were made for her, then she tried on yours. If she hadn’t held onto the top, I think it would have fallen right off her. I told her I’d take care of it.” “Where is it?” I asked.

“Still at the club. I’ll leave it a day or two. Then, if she should happen to mention it to Joyce, I’I1 just say I forgot. I don’t think she will, though, Joyce is kind of intimidating.” “The dreaded Joyce, eh?”

“That’s the one,”

“I’ll have to meet her some day. After Operation Heather!”

The new girl didn’t mention the extra outfit and a few

days later Leslie smuggled it home.

It was beautiful, a sort of deep electric blue satin, At the sides of the chest it was cut to push everything toward the center, a trick their designer has for the bunnies who aren’t … ummm … overly endowed. (Yes, they do hire girls who aren’t. They figure anyone can be padded.) It was cut with a high French leg, too, which gave me the illusion of more hips than I really had. All in all it looked pretty terrific. Even Leslie was impressed.

“Heather, you look gorgeous!”

“Well, I feel gorgeous, so that works out.”

“You should try and wear it about an hour a day, to get used to it.”
“Try and stop me!”

“Well, for right now, I think I’m going to take you out of it.”
I didn’t object at all.

A few days later, Leslie came home in a rush.

“We’re going to have to do Operation Heather this week,” she said, breathless.

“What?! We were supposed to have two weeks more!” “Maybe so, but now’s our chance. There’s flu going around the club, Audrey has it and the doctor says she’ll be out another three days at least.”

“SOP”

“Joyce has it too! Not only does it take care of our biggest obstacle, but it means I’ll be in charge, since I’m senior if they’re both out. It’s perfect! Day after tomorrow, we go!”

Well, at least I didn’t have much time to get nervous.

I took the day off and started to prepare.

I began with a bubble bath and an all over shave. I’ve never had much body hair, but I wanted to be as smooth as possible. After all, a lot shows in those bunny outfits.

After that, I taped, a procedure designed to create cleavage where there really isn’t any.

I’d thought a little about female hormones, but had decided to wait until I was more sure where this was all leading, or, rather, where I wanted it to lead.

Between tape and padding, I managed to raise a fairly respectable cleavage. The club lighting was pretty subdued which was another plus. The more shadows, the more it looked like I had.

I’d said something to Leslie about wishing I didn’t have to pad to fill my bunny costume, but she told me they padded everyone, no matter how big they were.

I did my make-up. Since I’m fair haired I don’t have much problem with my beard. Even if I have a little stubble, it seldom shows because it’s so light.

Since my outfit was blue, and my eyes are, too, I used blue shadow, with charcoal grey. I did my eyes a little heavier than I usually would, but tried not to overdo because the club is very strict about keeping the “girl next door” image.

I’d finished the make-up and was getting into the sheer black tights when Leslie came in.

“Just in time,” I said, “you can help me into my costume.”

“Always happy to oblige. Mmmmmmm …” “Hey, don’t do that or I’ll never fit. It’s pretty snug down there as it is.”

“Oh, all right. I’ll be a good girl, at least until I get you back here tonight.”

“Once we’re back here, you can do that all you want. In fact I encourage it.”

“Goodness and I thought you were a refined young lady.”

“I have my moments.”

Leslie eventually did help me into my costume and I slipped a skirt, blouse and coat over it.

“Now then,” she said, “have you got the timetable down?”

“I come to the back door a half hour after the club opens. You’ll be there. I’ll slip out of these things and into

my ears and cuffs. You’ll put the word out that there’s an extra bunny coming in and I’ll take my station. After an hour, I leave and you’ll tell everyone I got sick, too.” “That’s it. Are you ready?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you look gorgeous, but I’m prejudiced.” Leslie left first. We had to go in separate cars because she wouldn’t finish at the club until several hours after I did.

Or at any rate that was how it was planned.

Everything went as we hoped at first. In fact, it could hardly have gone better. I did my bunny number exactly as I’d learned it. I knew the routine and the other girls accepted me without question.

I moved the way Leslie had taught me and occasionally picked up admiring glances from the customers, and now and then a little envy from the women who were with them.

Through it all my heart was racing with pleasure and excitement. No one could have any idea of how I felt, I thought. It was like having champagne in my veins.

After an hour, Leslie came over.

“Time to go,” she said.

“Oh … come on …” I whispered. “Everything’s going fine. Let me stay. You can certainly use the extra help.”

“Well, that’s true, but I don’t know if it’s a very good idea…”

“Of course it is! Besides, it’s a shame to waste ail this preparation on one hour.”

“I suppose you’re right. Okay, just a little longer.” And that’s how it went the whole evening. Finally, about an hour before closing I agreed it was time to go.

“After all,” Leslie said, “you really can’t change with the other girls, Heather.”
“I suppose not,” I said, “but don’t you think …” “No, now march young lady.”

“Oh, ail right.”

I left the club area and went back into the dressing room. I really regretted having to go. I’d felt good working as a bunny, as good as I’d ever felt in my life.

I went to Leslie’s locker and got my things. I’d taken off my ears and cuffs and started to slip my skirt over my bunny outfit when a throaty contralto voice behind me said, “And what do you think you’re doing, my dear?”

I stood frozen. I tried to say something, but real words wouldn’t come. “Gurk …” was the best I could do. I turned slowly.

There, standing by the office door was Joyce.

“You know the rules,” she said, taking in the fact that a snappy comeback was beyond me.

“The costumes do not leave the club. It’s a good thing I felt well enough to check how things were going.”

“Ulp,” I said.

“You’re new. Are you a replacement?”

I nodded; at least that worked.

“Well, perhaps no one told you.” Her manner softened a little, but only a little. “Here,” she said, “I’ll help you.”

“Unnng,” I managed.

“No, it’s all right, no trouble.”

Joyce walked over and began undoing my costume. I began to pray for a fatal heart attack and didn’t much care whether it hit her or me.

Still, short of trying a quick right to the jaw, there wasn’t much I could do. For one thing I still had my heels on and I knew the odds of out-running her in those. Besides, she looked like the kind of woman who would know karate.

“What?!” she gasped, “What’s going on here?!”

At this point I really felt at a disadvantage. I was standing there in nothing but sheer black tights and heels and a strip of adhesive tape across my chest.

Joyce let go of the bunny costume which slid down to my ankles. No one is in top form in a situation like this.

“Well …” I croaked. At least it was my first real word in some minutes … “actually ..”

Just then the door from the club burst open and Leslie ran in. “Howard,” she called, rounding a bank of lockers, “I just saw Joyce’s car and.., oh … oh … dear…”

I thought this rather an understatement.

A few minutes later we were in Joyce’s office.

“You realize,” she said, “I ought to fire you.” Leslie was almost in tears and I wasn’t in terrific shape even though I’d managed to get back into my skirt and blouse.

“But no harm was done,” I began.

“Just the same, that’s what I should do, isn’t it?” Joyce looked at Leslie. Leslie nodded slowly.

“Now wait,” I said, “I don’t think this is fair. Leslie would never have done it if it wasn’t for me. It was all my idea.” This last wasn’t strictly true, but I felt I should try, anyway.

“What I said,” Joyce looked at me this time “was that I ought to fire her.”

“You mean … aren’t you … but …” Leslie said.

“No I’m not, and I’ll tell you why. But if you ever tell anyone at the club, I’ll have to reconsider.”

“Well, no, of course, but …” I began.

“When I was in Howard’s, ah … Heather’s situation I would never have had the courage to do something like this.”

“Huh?” I said. Leslie and I looked at each other, puzzled. “You mean you, that is, you weren’t…”

“No, I wasn’t. I started life as a boy. I don’t know whether you’ll want to go as far as I have, that’s something only you can decide. But if you can manage Operation Heather you’ll probably succeed whatever you do. I didn’t become a bunny until after my surgery, but then my girl friend didn’t work as a bunny, so I didn’t have inside help.”

At this point Leslie and I really didn’t know what to say.

Actually, everything worked out pretty well. Leslie and I are still together and Joyce has become a good friend too. I’ve had some long talks with her and we’ve gone out a few times as well. She really makes me think about what I’m going to do with my own life. I haven’t decided completely. There are some pretty serious questions to consider.

In the meantime, Heather still works one night a week at the club and after all, everyone can use a little money from a second job.

THE END

Additional Reading

Panty Punishment

panty punishment

Don just wanted to look at her panties, not wear them. But he now had to do both!

It all happened on a nice autumn day — my punishment, that is, and my new way of life.

My employer had been called out of town and had decided to close her apparel shop during the early afternoon, leaving me freer than usual. I had gone home, and after resting awhile, began looking out of the window….

It was then that I saw Janet – – my bride-to-be, coming out into her yard across the way, carrying some clothes. My heart thrilled at the sight of her as the mild wind caught the long curls of her blonde hair, and turned the hem of her skirt to reveal a lacy petticoat.

Though at times of a stern and independent turn of mind, Janet was quite feminine, and whether at work or play, she insisted on being attractively dressed that way.

I thought of calling out to her inasmuch as she did not know I was at home, but then decided against doing so, and continued to watch.
Carefully, Janet began hanging the freshly laundered clothes she carried. First, a white blouse, two brassieres – a black one and a white one, and some nylon hosiery. And then a full length white slip, a pair of pale blue panties, and a pair of pink step-ins with open slits at the sides.

To my surprise, she completed the task by pinning to the clothes line a pair of pink silk bloomers — the kind with tunneled elastic legs and waist, which I had thought were only worn in these modern times by women who were either very old or fat. Though I had never seen them before, I knew they belonged to Janet.

They were edged with white lace and had something embroidered on them, making them very beautiful, indeed. As a sales clerk in a ladies dress and lingerie shop, I had seen exquisite underwear, but nothing as charming as these bloomers.

An idea took possession of me as I saw Janet return to the house. This was the time she usually went out to pick up groceries. I’d wait awhile and then have some fun with her.

For an instant I was reminded of my days at college…the time when some students and I conducted a “panty-raid” in the girls’ dormitories. “This will be another one,” I chuckled.

Down the stairs and out across the lawn I went. No one was in sight. It would be a harmless prank, and besides, I had to see those lovely bloomers at close range.

Quickly I went to the clothes line and took them. A bit nervously, I also took the blue colored panties, and then started back, almost in a run.

“HEY — What are you doing? “I froze in a light terror as I heard Janet’s voice cry out.

She hadn’t left the house as I had figured. As I turned my head, I stumbled over a rock in my path. The garments fell from my hands as I tried to protect myself. I heard the clatter of high heels approaching. Looking up from her shining patent leather shoes, I saw Janet — arms akimbo, staring down at me.

My face flushed with embarrassment. It all happened so quickly, I couldn’t think of a sensible thing to say.

Panty Punishment

“WHAT are you doing, Don? Stealing my clothes — my underthings! Are you going nuts or something? Well, SAY something!”

“It was just a j-joke, Janet. Just a gag I was going to play on you. I–I’m sorry, really.”

She gathered up the garments. “Now I have to do them over again. And look, just look at my panties. They’re torn. Oh, Don… you should be spanked!”

I stood up and brushed my clothes, feeling ashamed to look at her.

“Might as well come in and clean up while you’re here. Go ahead, the door’s open,” Janet said, pointing to her place.

I walked in and headed for the bathroom with Janet following. No one was about. Her folks weren’t due until Thursday, three more days.

“Here’s a towel,” she said, handing me one.

“Don Transton I’m surprised at you, acting like a bad little boy. I still say you should be spanked. Yes, that’s what you need.
… some good punishment.”

I felt better now that I was more presentable but I was still sheepish over the whole incident.

“Don, you’re going to get your punishment.” There was a growing gleam in her eyes, as she as she continued, “I know just the thing for you. _And if you refuse, I’ll…I’ll postpone our wedding date, indefinitely!”

“But, Janet… ”

“Just come here and do as I say.”

She led me to the bedroom, opened dresser drawers and a closet, and took out a number of items.

“Get your clothes off and put these on.”

“But those are_your clothes.”

“Of course, they are, but they will fit you. You seem to like my clothes — especially my underclothes, so I’m giving you a chance to wear them. Now put these things on and be quick about it or you’ll get a bigger spanking.”

I swallowed hard. This was humiliation at its worst, but I could see no escape. I started undressing. All the while janet stood waiting in the doorway. She had placed the clothing on the bed, except for one item she held in her hands.

“This should be all right. I’ll help you with it.” She gave me a pink nylon bra, which she had adjusted for my size. Awkwardly I slipped into it. She fastened it behind me. It felt strange to wear, but I had to admit it held my shoulders back and seemed to help my posture.

“Janet, this is silly.”

“Shut up! Silly is it? I suppose stealing my undies wasn’t silly. And half ruining them, too! Put those stockings and and finish up.”

I sat down on a chair and stepped into the long sheer black hose. They were a bit small for me but I made out the best I could. And then I put on the pink round garters while Janet showed me how to fix them.

“Since you like panties so much, you can wear these. No, wait a moment.”

She left the room and returned.

“…Better yet, put these on.”

She tossed a pair of pink bloomers into my lap, similar to the ones I had seen on the clothes line.

“They are too big for me. They were delivered to me by mistake. But they will fit you.”

Janet watched me. Her rich, firm bosom rose and fell beneath her low cut blouse.

Until now I hadn’t noticed that she wasn’t wearing anything under it, and the vision of her that way aroused my love and admiration.
Unexpectedly, I saw her reach to her side and unzip her black satin skirt. She stepped out of it and began doing the same with her half-slip.

“I’m getting ready for you in case you’re wondering. –I said to put those bloomers on, didn’t I?” she snapped.

Turning away from her, I overcame my hesitation, and dropped the shorts. As rapidly as I could, I got into the silken bloomers and pulled them up. They were tight, but the shimmering feel of them against my skin was deeply satisfying. Women were fortunate to wear such soft and lovely garments, I thought.

I couldn’t help thinking that men’s clothes are dull, in comparison.

“Don’t they feel heavenly, Dear ?” Janet asked. Smiling a little, she went on, “If you wanted some of my underthings, all you had to do was ask.”

I gasped at her beauty, as I took the dress that was laid out on the bed for me. In addition to the blouse, she was wearing the black leather pumps, black nylons held up by a narrow garter belt, and peach colored panties which were gathered in at the thighs with pink ribbon and black lace. I liked the embroidered bloomers, these panties were a revelation to me. I didn’t know such enchanting dainties existed. I pulled the dress over my head and worked it over my hips. It was much too short and revealed the bloomers above my knees.

“Why Don, you know you look good in feminine things. You might even make a nice looking young lady — with proper make-up and maybe a wig.. .”

Again, I swallowed, feeling a blush coming on. I wondered if any fate could be worse than this.

“I don’t like your plain, rough looking underwear…and maybe you don’t either, but that’s no excuse for taking my things, like a thief.”

“One more thing — when I’m finished, you’re going to launder the undies you took.”

In my state of mixed feelings, I told her I was sorry for what I had done.

“All right, you’re forgiven. But from now on you are going to quit wearing male underwear. I see no reason why you shouldn’t wear decently attractive undergarments, and particularly since you look well in them, and since you seem to have a fondness of them. — And that means everything — slips, bras, bloomers, panties, and girdles. DO you understand?”

Already I was beginning to discover the bliss of feminine finery, and the meaning of janet’s remarks hit me with a delightful impact. – Not only would I eventually own my own shop, see and handle beautiful lingerie, but I would also wear lingerie. No longer need I envy women’s privilege in this direction.

No longer embarrassed, but pleasantly exhilarated and filled with a greater love for Janet — I replied, “Yes, YES, Dear.”

THE END

Additional Reading

A Visit to Madame Nanette

madame nanette

by Evelyn Adams

The tall, slender figure paused before the bay windows of the exclusive dress shoppe.

A neat window sign, in the shape of a patent leather boot bore the inscription, Madame Nanette — Figure Trainer. “This must be the right place,” said Marie, the silhouette brunette as her velvet gloved fingers secured the knob of the door.

Fortunately, there were no other customers present in this very exclusive salon. Marie had always felt that acquiring a wardrobe was such a personal thing. From the rear a tall, statuesque blonde came toward Marie.

“Good morning,” her voice was sultry, with just the proper amount of barb to tell the customers that she was in authority and that her decisions were not to be contested. “I’m Madame Nanette. Have you come here to obtain advice about a proper gown? Perhaps some hosiery? I have some of the latest designs, just in from Paris.” She brought forth a pair of silky soft hosiery, tinged the color of bright sunset, with tiny little riding crops embroidered in petite diamond arrangement just at the ankles. The double hem contained four equal sets of built-in rubber garter snaps, to be hooked onto a garter belt. Madame Nanette explained, “You see, these stockings are most unusual…they are actually too small for a girl which is to her advantage. Do you wonder why? Because I detest wrinkled silk and when she is squeezed into these stockings, her legs will become like twin columns of pure ivory.”

Marie found herself fascinated with such an ingenious pair of hosiery. She found herself liking this blonde wardrobe mistress -such an Amazonian type she was, and yet, so feminine. Even her heady perfume was most stimulating to the nostrils. “Madame Nanette, my friends tell me that I don’t know how to dress. I thought you could select appropriate items for me and I’ll be glad to follow your advice.”

Madame Nanette’s eyes opened wide with glee. “You’ll find that I’m an excellent teacher. Would you like to discard your present clothing in the dressing room, my dear ? I’ll then be able to make an exact fitting.”

“No…no,” Marie said hastily, ever fearful of such an embarrassing state of being.

“Just take my measurements now and I’ll try the clothing on at home, if you don’t mind.”

Madame Nanette smiled indulgently; at the same time, she clasped her hands together. Her fingers were unbelievably strong, more like talons of a magnificent she-eagle, glittering with huge rings. One ring on her right forefinger was a most unusual bit of jewelry. It consisted of one huge gleaming tiger’s eye, glittering as though from a hidden bush, waiting to spring upon its victim, overpowering its prey. Marie found herself hypnotized by this glittering eye which seemed to probe through her very being, stripping away all that she held personal.

“First, my dear,” Madame Nanette broke into her thoughts, “we shall find a good pair of shoes.” She rummaged among shelves, closets, beneath counters, and finally came forth with a pair of exquisite ankle length boots. “Now, these may look rather strong, as all boots are… but note the delicate craftsmanship.” The boots were made of pure dyed black lizard skin, soft to behold but powerful when opposed. The leather Softly wrapped around the ankle, snugly, imprisoning the twin peaks of the bones. A milk white (rather, it was flesh-white) pair of leather thongs, in stark contrast to the ebony of the leather, bound fast the foot so that there was absolutely no chance for escape such as when walking on a busy street corner. Such things can be a nuisance!

And then the heel. Ah, it was amazing how pencil-thin the heel was, with the very tip covered with just tl~e tiniest scrap of rubber. Embroidered down the inside of this pencil-thin stabbing heel (which measured a perfect 6-3/8 inches) were down-pointed Arabian sabers… and even these beautiful teeny sabers had embroidered upon them even smaller little glittering rhinestones. The vamp held an even greater surprise…a velvet scimitar, entrusted with tiny rubies resembling blood. It was very realistic, reminiscent of the days when Persians ruled their captives. The twin pair of ankle-length boots glistened with a perfect polish, so dazzling to the eyes that even Marie had to blink and stand in reverent awe before such delicately created footwear.

‘ ‘You see,” explained Madame Nanette, “these shoes have a personality all their own. It is said that they contain some ‘magical’ power which endows the wearer with supreme power and exaltation over all. As you know, the Arabians can weave many magic tales.”

Marie agreed. “But they fascinate me. I’II take them.”

“Good,” beamed the other woman. “Now just look at this figure trainer.” She held up what, at first appeared to be a solid sheet of pure sea green silk. But upon closer inspection it appeared to be a very thick, rubberized figure trainer, designed to nip in the floppy folds of flesh just above the hip bone and beneath the breast bone. “These laces,” pointed Nanette, “are made of imported rubber. See how polished and smooth they are. Well, these laces measure 15 inches in length and fasten around to the small of the back. Here, they are secured into special little copper-rivetted hooks and once in place, cannot be easily removed. You’ll need someone to help you into this garment. Perhaps you’d like instruction, right now !”

“Oh, no,” backed away Marie, still rather frightened at such a firm figure trainer. I’ll do it at home.” She examined the pure spongy rubber which looked innocent but she knew that when the rubber figure trainer would enclasp her waist, it would be like the enormous hands of a Persian Gent, squeezing and molding her tender flesh until she could scarcely breathe. But when it was done, her waist would be so nipped in that it would be a perfect hour-glass figure, of the type which gave fame to the Gibson Girl.

When Marie said she’d accept it, she then added, “I’d like to see something in the way of gloves.”

Madame Nanette brought forth a pair of elbow length pure leather gloves! They were baby blue, so delicate that they fooled Marie into thinking they were so innocent. But yet, the fingers felt rather heavy. As Marie slid her hand into the glove, she felt the chain mesh which was secretly woven into the leather lining.

And the tips of the fingers had tiny – – very tiny — little metal tips, just covering the fingertip but very powerful when properly used. To add to the delightful pleasure, there was a secret contraption in each of the thumbs of this baby blue leather pair of gloves. When Marie would slowly stretch out her gloved fingers, from the bottom of each thumb would spring out a tiny little cat’s clawl It was so realistic that it was sure to cause much favorable comment whenever displayed. Such a delicately created pair of gloves was instantly purchased by Marie…money was no object when it came to fashions with a practical point of view.

“During colder weather,” declared Nanette, “you may be in need of a head glove. Yes, it’s surprising to first hear of it, but the most fashionable women today like to wear these gloves. Here’s my favorite…and I think you’d love it!”

It was a charming, flesh-colored leather head glove. Made of very fine, skin-tight kid leather, the glove fit smoothly over the skull, with a demanding tightness because wrinkles were strictly taboo! There were two tiny slits which permitted just the barest glimmer of vision and just one tiny little puncture — just one which allowed some air within the confinements of this skin-tight head glove.

Madame Nanette explained, “Because it gets cold sometimes, with blustery winds, there’s really no need to keep your lips and mouth uncovered; you can get chapped lips that way. Therefore, this unique head glove does not contain a bothersome sllt for a mouth.” She then pointed to the exquisite throat scarf. It resembled soft silk, on the surface, but it, too, was a flesh colored leather covering. It contained buckles which fastened the scarve right in the hollow of the throat. “Note these built-in steel throat trainers,” she pointed to slender bulges which ran in a vertical direction – – three in the front and three in the back. These actually help you to keep your head up, giving you a professional model’s appearance when you walk. If there’s anything I detest,” she hissed, “it’s a slumped head. Well, this set of throat trainers will do wonders for that condition.”

“Do you have a suggestion for a gown, Madame Nanette?”

“Indeed I do. You certainly are quite the clothes horse, my dear. Well, to suit your fancy…and satisfy your wild imagination, here’s an import, direct from London — the home of the finest in leather.”

When Marie beheld the amazing gown, she had to gasp in profound admiration. With tender devotion, she stroked the billowing peasant skirt with almost flexible built-in steel stays running from the waist down to the knee cap — the gown was made of ruby red silk, an embroidered sash around the middle sported a seashore motif with fish hooks and bobbing corks, with fishermen’s nets and even an image of a lovely mermaid being trapped within its confines, along with the other helpless creatures of the deep — the razor sharp tips of the fish hooks cruelly threatening to tear at her satiny soft pink flesh.

The blouse, on the other hand, was black velvet, in stark contrast to the silken red of the skirt. Now, the blouse had an excruciatingly tight bodice, the bosom containing a stitched-in brassiere, made of very pure rubber. When worn, it enveloped a woman’s bosom with a warm and possessive grasp. The rubber bra was soft and yielding, almost like a bosom, but it was hollow and greedily enclasped the proffered bosom of its wearer and creating a stunning buxom effect. It was rumored that some of Hollywood’s most famed bathing beauties would wear such a brassiere which was like a second skin.

Other delightful creations of this blouse included its set of buckles, pure leather with a gleaming silver buckle and notch — there was one buckle on each shoulder, like an epaulet, except that they fastened securely around each armpit. This helped to fluff the short, upper elbow-length sleeves, billowing them out in pure peasant style.

The back of the blouse contained red slashes of soft velvet. Which each movement of the shoulders, the red gaping slashes would part to reveal a tiny set of little polka dots within the slashes. Truly, this was a gown that was created by a master craftsman of the arts.

“There you have it,” Madame Nanet~e wrapped everything in a neat bundle and handed it 1o Marie who eagerly paid for i1. “You know, I always maintain that women just don’t know how to dress. It takes a male designer to be a true fashion expert. However, I design many of my own clothes and some of the gowns in my shoppe. Not bad for a mere female, eh?”

“You’ve done quite well, Madame Nanette” Marie thanked her again and hurried home, eager to try out this new wardrobe.

Shortly afterward, Madame Nanette retired to the rest room in the rear of her shoppe. She locked the door of the room. Then she gazed at herself in the mirror. She smiled, reached up and removed her billowing blonde wig and stared at herself…rather, himself!

Visit to Madame NanetteTHE END

 

Additional Reading

Taming of a Husband

taming of husband

“Why you devastating, sexy, teasing bitch,” Yolanda Peterson exclaimed as her eyes wandered like caressing fingers over the incredible assortment of lush curves that were stuffed into a tissue-thin paisley print silk dress that seemed at least three sizes too small for her friend, Ethel Walsh.

“If you’ll take your greedy eyes off my big boobs for a moment,” Ethel laughed, “you’ll find that I’ve worn a little bonus for you this afternoon.”

When Yolanda managed to tear her eyes away from the monumental teats which normally were squeezed into the twin hammocks of a size 44-D-cup bra, but which obviously weren’t today by the way they moved liquidly about on Ethel’s ribcage, her black eyes wandered down over a wasp waist, flaring hips, and then gasped when she saw that her friend’s long, full-fleshed limbs were clad almost to the hem of her mini-mini skirt in gleaming black leather boots.

“ETHEL … they’re simply FANTASTIC,” Yolanda shrieked ecstatically. “I’ve never seen such an exquisite pair, and of course those marvelous legs of yours don’t do them any harm either … what’s the occasion?” “Our wife swapping club meeting this week was to be the occasion,” Ethel giggled. “But I’ve got the hots so for you today that I thought they might melt down your resistance.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Yolanda laughed. “You clad in a burlap sack would melt down my resistance. Come on in before I kiss your pussy right here on my doorstep.” “That black lace negligee you’re wearing, plus your black hose and gloves isn’t exactly conducive to playing jacks,” Ethel smiled as she entered the foyer of the Peterson mansion, her skyscraper-heeled boots and her tight mini forcing her to take little mincing steps, her enormous melons jouncing about heavily in the flimsy confinement of her frock.

“They weren’t intended to be,” Yolanda smiled as she reached up and cupped the underside of her friend’s massive, out-thrusting breasts, squeezing them with gloved fingers, lifting them, amazed as always by their incredible weight. “God, I’ve been dying to get my hands on these beauties all day.”

“And they’ve been aching for you to,” Ethel smiled as, starting at the neckline, she began to unbutton a series of buttons that ran down the front of her skin tight frock.

“M-m-m, I like my girl friends to be cooperative,” Yolanda gasped when the dress parted after the fifth button was opened and Ethel’s magnificent naked teats spilled out of her bodice to roll ponderously about, the almost dinner plate sized aureoles and thumb sized nipples brilliantly red from a heavy application of lipstick.

“GOD what a teasing bitch you are.”
Taming of a Husband

“You’re a teasing bitch yourself,” Ethel scolded, then moaned as Ethel captured an enormous globe in eager gloved hands, almost sinking from sight in its pillowing softness. “You’d better not let me catch you with some fiat chested broad!”

“You know big boobs are my ‘thing’, sweetie, every other woman looks like a skinny boy compared to you,” Yolanda gasped as she leaned down and sucked a huge nipple into her warm mouth, lacing it with a darting tongue.

Ethel was about to unbutton her dress and lay it aside, but suddenly realized that she would look sexier with her mammoth teats spilled over the top; so instead she stood motionless, her tautly gloved arms by her side, permitting her excited friend to have her way with her breasts, breathing, “Just as long as you concentrate solely on mine, they’re all yours, darling-g-g … oh that’s it, bite them.., ouou-ou … oh YES-S-S … OH GOD but my pussy’s on fire!” “That’s a fire I’ll put out later with my saliva,” Yolanda gurgled through nipple-stuffed lips.

The tight kid squeaked over Ethel’s flesh as Yolanda squeezed great handfuls of foam rubber-soft breast flesh and twisted it viciously, her sharp teeth raking the excruciatingly sensitive flesh of her friend’s swollen nipple.

“Oh YES-S-S!” Ethel shrieked in a fit of carnal delirium, grasping the back of Yolanda’s head and pressing her face into the depths of her breast. “Oh I’ve GOT to have it .. take me to your dungeon … Give me the lash, rip me to SHREDS!”

“My but aren’t you the impatient one,” Yolanda teased, letting the incredibly elongated nipple slide wetly from between her nursing lips, the resultant sound like that of a cork popping off of a bottle of champagne; then walking to a nearby couch and sliding the great round globes of her luscious rump onto it, spreading her gorgeous black nylon sheathed limbs wide in wanton invitation. “I don’t think that I could concentrate on giving you the lashing that you crave unless I am relieved first, temporarily of course.” The leather that held Ethel’s knees in a vise-like grip screeched on the hardwood floor as she dove between the widely splayed limbs of her friend, crying out as she swooped down and buried her lovely face in the dense, moist nest of passion, “Oh I’m going to eat you like you’ve NEVER been eaten!”

These proved to be no idle words as the ravishing Ethel feasted on Yolanda’s creaming love canal like a man on the desert for a week who had found a water hole. Hot desire blazed within the two gorgeous females as Yolanda lurched forward on the couch, swiveling her lush hips wildly, pumping her hot pussy against the huge busted Ethel’s greedy mouth, the room filled with wet, squooshing sounds.

As Yolanda’s hips rolled and tossed, she tensed, then bathed her friend’s wildly suctioning lips with her release, “Now you sexy bitch … to the DUNGEON with you!”

As the two ravishing women made their way down to the basement, a basement that had been converted by one of Yolanda’s husband’s ancestors into a fantastically equipped dungeon, Ethel did a strange thing. Reaching into her handbag as they made their way down the ancient stone steps she drew out an enormous bra and slid the cups under her gargantuan teats which were still flopping about, overlapping the neckline of her gown. It took every ounce of her strength to draw the body straps together in back and work the catches, her heavy breasts rising as she did so as if hoisted by some unseen derrick.

“Spoil-sport,” Yolanda pouted. “You’re very wasteful, you know that’ll be ripped to pieces in a few minutes.” “Not necessarily,” Ethel smiled as she buttoned up her dress, Yolanda staring in disbelief at the awesome amount of shadowy cleavage created by the constricting action of the bra. “I had this specially made by a corsetierre; the body straps are double reinforced. You’ll have to use every ounce of your strength and pinpoint accuracy to cut it in two.”
“This has got to be my favorite spot on earth,” Ethel cried out as they entered the clammy dungeon, her lovely eyes sparkling as they examined a row of instruments and devices of torture that lined its walls. “Oh let’s hurry, I can just feel that delicious lash ripping into my bottom cheeks.”

“It’s my favorite spot too, precious,” Yolanda enthused

as she led her gorgeous friend to a raised platform in the center of the dungeon and mounted it with her. Ethel eagerly held her gloved arms above her head and Yolanda quickly fettered them at the wrist to two chains that hung down from a massive overhead beam. “We certainly have had some fabulous times here together. Remember when we stripped the clothing off of that cute grocery boy with the lash, and then laced his cock into erection till he finally shot his load into the air?”

“And then I worked his dick into erection with my gloved hands immediately afterwards and had him screw me although he was hanging upside down at the time,” Ethel laughed. “But enough talking, sweetie, I can’t bear the suspense any longer.”
“You know it just occurred to me, we’re like Jack Spratt and his wife,” Yolanda smiled as she left the platform and turned a huge crank at its base, the platform gradually lowering till Ethel hung suspended in the air.

“Why?”

“Well, Jack Spratt could eat no fat, and his wife could eat no lean.”

“So?”

“I’m a sadist and you’re a masochist, same thing.” “Thank God for that … now stop teasing me and get on with it,” Ethel cried out as she wriggled her enormous yet shapely bottom-cheeks wildly in the air, as if begging for the sting of the lash.

The lash’s sting wasn’t long in coming. Yolanda first shrugged off her filmy negligee, it falling on the floor as she walked to a row of paddies, quirts, whips and such that hung on the wall. She purposely ground the great ham-hocks of her rump together in magnificent unison for Ethel’s benefit, the long, pencil-thin garter straps alternately tightening and sinking into their softness, then loosening, with her steps.

Her gossamer black nylons cast off brilliant highlights down their entire length as they reflected the light from an overhead lamp while she returned with a menacing looking eight foot long builwhip.
Yolanda cracked the whip expertly in the air, Ethel cried out in feigned fear, “Oh Mama … you’re not going to hit your little girl with the awful whip.”

Yolanda snarles as she stood with black silken limbs widespread, gloved hands on hips, the perfect picture of evil domination. “She is going to hit her little girl’s gigantic tits.”

Her eyebrows knitted, her black eyes fierce, the lids garish with eyeshadow, her full, fruity lips carmine laden, Yolanda resembled a female satan as she raised a tautly gloved arm high overhead, the whip uncoiling gracefully behind her, then whistling through the air as she snapped her wrist forwards. There was a loud, exploding crack as the rawhide curled around a huge, out-thrusting teat and sliced through Ethel’s thin silk dress, the material reddening as blood began to flow instantly from a deep laceration.

On the next stroke she brought the lash down with even more ferocity, adding an extra sharp flick of the wrist at impact that made the metalic tip bite more deeply into her breasts, a scant inch below the previous weal.

A fiendish look on her face, Yolanda worked the lash feverishly down over her friend’s torso, bits of paisley print filtering to the dungeon floor as she tore the gown to shreds. Ethel writhed under the fiery pain, but there was a definite sensual undertone to her shrieks as the lash did its vicious work.

Finally, with a thin strip of material still clinging to Ethel’s left arm, leading down to a bit more bunched around her waist, Yolanda centered her attentions on the strongly constructed bra which as yet showed no effects from the lashing. Moving catlike around to Ethel’s rear, Yolanda sent the lash hurtling towards her back, and with incredible aim sliced through the reinforced body strap with her first attempt.

Like the first heavy droplets of rain that precedes a storm, blood was flowing down over the awesome hills and valleys of Ethel’s majestic body, splashing onto the platform. Now the lash was working relentlessly, crisscrossing over the milk white flesh, superimposing new cuts over previous weals and lacerations.
Taming of a Husband

Ethel’s unearthly screams reverberated around the dank stone wails of the dungeon, only ceasing when Yolanda grew so arm weary she could go on no more. Then the diabolical mistress of Peterson Manor moved between her friend’s flailing booted limbs, drawing her lush hips towards her eager mouth with one hand, the other overhead cupping the underside of a horribly lacerated globe, the blood oozing between her gloved fingers and dripping down.

Now to put out that fire in your pussy,” Yolanda said calmly.
“M-m-m-m … delicious as always,” Yolanda enthused as she licked her ripe lips clean of the sweet honey she had drawn from Ethel’s honey pot, her gloved fingers busy loosening the manacles around her wrists.

“That was the greatest ever,” Ethel said with enthusiasm. “I’ve never known you so eager. Was it just me or is there something else on your mind?” “Oh it was you and those scrumptious boobs of yours of course, precious,” said Yolanda as she took a length of rope and wrapped it twice around her friend’s waist, and then looped it under her crotch, drawing it up hard in back, the rough hemp barging roughly between her pussy lips and entering her chasm of passion.

She wrapped the rope around Ethel’s wrists, then knotted it securely, saying excitedly, “But there is something else on my mind, something that excites me terribly.”

“It had better not be another woman, I’ll cut her…” “No silly, you’re all the woman anyone could possibly ask for,” Yolanda interrupted with a laugh that sent her heavy breasts rolling about on her ribcage. It’s my husband, Bob.”

“Don’t tell me that you’ve decided to go straight after all this time,” Ethel sneered, drawing her shoulders back and thrusting her ribcage forward to emphasize the enormity of her awesome melons.
“Of course not, silly, sit down and I’ll prove it to you …
if I didn’t manage to convince you while you were hanging in mid-air a few moments ago,” Yolanda giggled as she helped Ethel over to the wall and assisted her in sitting on the cold stone floor, her shredded back resting against the wall.

Yolanda kneeled beside her and cupped her massive melons in her gloved hands, pressing her feverish, richly painted lips against Ethel’s in a smoldering kiss.

“Tonight I’m going to tame my husband, make him my slave for life,” she enthused, bending down and cleansing Ethel’s torn breasts of its coating of blood with the enthusiasm of a half-starved kitten attacking a bowl of milk.

“Impossible,” Ethel moaned as Yolanda’s darting tongue lapped madly at first one nipple then the other.

Taming of a Husband

“He’s far to big and strong; he’ll break you in half the moment you try.”

“Oh physically he’s capable, but mentally he isn’t,” said Yolanda as she rose and meticulously wiped the blood off of her gloved hands. “He’s really a sissy boy. He was tied to his mother’s apron strings till she died last year, now he’s attached himself to mine. I plan to make it official tonight by humiliating him the way we did that grocery boy. He’d still come and be my slave ifI were to call him.” But he was a mere boy, and your husband is a powerful man,” Ethel reasoned.

“Want to make a small wager, say a hundred dollars,” Yolanda smiled, her eyes wandering over her friend’s elegantly booted limbs. “I sure would like a pair of boots like yours.”

“I’ve got news for you, they cost me three hundred and fifty dollars, let’s make it for that,” Ethel suggested, spreading her glamorous, booted limbs and kicking them spasmodically in the air. “Use those fantastic lips on me just once more and I’ll be willing to wait here to see the results, I’ll even help you if you want me.”

“It’s a deal,” Ethel sighed as she sank to the dungeon floor and pressed her face into the hot, saturated nest that so eagerly awaited her.

“Boy what a day I had at the office,” Bob said wearily as he entered the living room, then exclaimed as he saw his wife draped langurously on a couch, “Good Lord, what kind of an outfit do you call that?”

“It’s the outfit I’m wearing to the Vansant’s costume ball next week, baby. Why do you look so upset, I thought you dug me in black kid gloves, hose, and especially sexy corsets,” Yolanda chided, running her gloved fingers caressingly over the gleaming taut leather of her corset which was squeezing with agonizing force against her waist and diaphragm, the lower portion and garter straps forming a delicious frame around her creamy white haunches and the dense tangled forest of her pussy.

“B-but your breasts are bare, they … they look obscene,” he gulped.
“Why you hypocriticial prude,” Yolanda snapped. “You don’t think them obscene when I parade around in less at our wife-swapping parties!”
“T-that’s different,” Bob blushed. “They’re our own intimate group of friends. Everyone important in town; the mayor and his wife, the members of the town council, they’ll all be at the Vansant’s.”
“The sight of your wife’s big tits ought to get you in solid with those creepy members of the town council … I know you’ve been dying to get on it for years,” Yolanda sneered, holding a soft arm up that was painful in the tight grip of the strong leather, methodically smoothing out the tiny wrinkles that had formed at elbow and wrist.
“Don’t your understand, it’s the WIVES?” Bob cried angrily. “Once they see how flagrantly you show off your breasts they’ll see to it that I never get on the council!” “I’m wearing this outfit, and that’s all there is to it,” Yolanda said with finality.

“I COMMAND you not to,” Bob shouted fiercely.

“You WHAT?”

“I-I order you not … to-to wear that costume,” he stammered, the fierceness gone from his voice as Yolanda approached him, her black eyes dilated ominously.

He held his hand up to ward off his furious wife.

Yolanda pushed up on his elbow with her left hand and caught his fingers with her right, pulling back, bending the fingers viciously. Holding him powerless in the grip of her strong right hand, Yolanda chopped back with her left in a series of quick, stacatto-like blows, striking him on his face, a gloved mark showing with every brutal blow.

Taming of a Husband

Her husband’s wild pain-racked shrieks thrilled and delighted Yolanda. Her stilt-heeled shoe went behind one of his feet. She tugged harder on his fingers and drove the heel of her left hand under his chin. Bob fell backward, almost loosing consciousness as his head cracked against the hardwood floor.

Yolanda leaped atop him with a cry of triumph, pressing her right knee against the upper portion of his right arm, then drove her lovely, dusky nylon encased knee into his left arm, smashing his elbow painfully against the floor.
She tightened the gloved fingers of her fight hand into a hard fist and drove hard, a magnificent sledge-hammer blow to his jaw. Again and again her right arm rose and fell, erasing the last vestiges of defiance from his face.

The blows were hurting terribly, drawing blood from his mouth and nose, creating swollen bruises that would show for weeks. He had to get away from the awful punishment. He heaved his muscular torso upwards, tossing her off of him; but when he rose unsteadily to his feet she brought him back down with a vicious karate chop to the back of his neck.

Her husband completely unconscious now, Yolanda quickly stripped him down to his cotton briefs. Then as his consciousness gradually began to return, she grabbed his hair and raised his battered head, slipping one full and glorious silken limb under it. Then, with deadly deliberateness, she clamped her other leg around his head, locking her slender ankles together and applying great pressure.
Gradually, as his senses returned, Bob was aware of both the pain and his prison of perfumed ivory smooth black nylon. Then he was aware that his nose and mouth were mashed against the lush black tendrils of her well manicured pelt and it was difficult to breathe.

Taming of a husband

“Kiss it, slave,” she commanded, applying more pressure. And you’d better put some enthusiasm into it or I’ll crush your ugly head like an egg shell.”

Yolanda rubbed her thighs back and forth over his face, the metalic clips on her garter straps raking cruelly over his ears and cheeks.
Like a docile dog trained to do his master’s bidding, the completely subdued Bob Peterson sent his long tongue into the fiery depths of his wife’s pussy, and the shrieks that his flailing tongue brought forth weren’t of passion, but of triumph.

The situation was so thrilling, so exhilarating to Yolanda, that she experienced her most fantastic climax ever. And after she did, she led Bob upstairs to the master bedroom, he trailing along after her like a faithful dog.

“I’m going into my dressing room, slave, and when I return you’d better be down on your hands and knees,” she commanded, and when she returned, a vicious looking paddle in a gloved right first, a length of strong rope in her left, she smiled when she saw him kneeling in the center of the bedroom, for now a pair of elegant crotch-high leather boots like Ethers were almost a certainty.

Yolanda’s arm seemed tireless as she flailed away at his tortured rump, creating terrible additional pain by jabbing her rapier-like heels into his rump, side, and arms.

Taming of a Husband

Then, discarding the paddle and throwing her terrified husband face down on the floor, Yolanda quickly fettered his wrists. “Rise slave!” she commanded.

Bob did so obediently, weaving unsteadily in his weakened condition as he pleaded, “P-Please don’t hurt me any more, darling. Look at my blood, it’s all over your bedroom rug.”

“Damn my bedroom rug, come over here, slave,” Yolanda sneered, the perfect picture of a domineering woman as she stood with booted limbs widespread, one gloved hand on hip, the other pointing imperiously towards the bed. “Stand with your back to the bedpost.” As soon as he did so, Yolanda took the extra length of rope that was hanging from his wrists and tied it securely to the bedpost.

“This should hold you immobile for a while as I change into a costume more fitting for the occasion,” said the raven haired temptress as she delivered a powerful blow to his stomach.

As Bob hung suspended by the bedpost in a state of semi-consciousness, his spouse went to her dressing room and donned a costume that she removed from a closet.

There was something bizarre, even evil about it. She had gathered her hair in back into a huge bun, and a wide brimmed leather hat fitted her head. A loose-fitting gleaming black leather cape was gathered in the middle by a wide leather belt. Leather riding britches that fitted her full-fleshed legs like a second skin, and an armpit length pair of black kid gloves completed her outfit.

Taming of a Husband
With the quickness of a jungle cat, Yolanda made her way down to the dungeon and released Ethel from her bonds, smiling triumphantly as she said, “It only took about ten minutes. He’s my complete and utter slave, so much so that he has an invisible ring in his nose.
“Oh really,” Ethel snorted as she rose and rubbed her gloved wrists where the rope had made the flesh tender and sore. “You still have your ex-maid Bertha’s uniform, don’t you?”

“You mean big Bertha, yes of course, why?” “Because if you can get Bob, or Bobette as we shall call him, to wear her uniform, then give him a going over down here, then you’ll have the boots.”

“Oh what a beautiful amazon of a maid he will make,” Yolanda giggled as the two ravishing females made their way hurriedly to the maid’s quarters and sorted out a uniform for Bob, including a huge pair of falsies that Bertha had worn since she was flat chested.
“Yolanda, sweetheart, you’re not going to make me wear those,” Bob cried when he saw the garments that Yolanda was carrying when the two women entered the room, barely noticing Ethel despite her gorgeous semi-nakedness.

“Shut up, not another word out of you slave,” Yolanda commanded as she took a wispy black satin and lace garter belt and wrapped it around Bob’s middle, Ethel kneeling before him and tugging a gossamer black stocking over a muscular leg.
Taming of a Husband

As Yolanda clipped a garter strap to the black band at the top of the stocking, Ethel slipped his foot into a skyscraper-heeled black pump. It took fully ten minutes for the eager women to work a pair of long black kid gloves over Bob’s muscular arms, but Bertha’s arms had been muscular too, and finally they managed the difficult task.
Bob Peterson was a tall and well built man; but he was also slender and his body hairless. With the addition of the sensuous black hose and the stilt-heeled pumps, his limbs were now completely, utterly, feminine. The type of limbs that drive most men mad; wide at thigh and calf, narrow at knee and ankle.

When a bouffant blonde wig and frilly white cap, falsies, skin tight black satin uniform, and a little white apron were set in place, and a deft application of lipstick, mascara and eye-shadow, Bob indeed was a gorgeous blonde amazon of a maid, one who would stop traffic.
“Good gracious,” Ethel exclaimed in amazement, “if I didn’t know that there was a big penis dangling under that little apron, I’d kiss Bobette’s pussy!”

Yolanda didn’t hear her friend for she had left the room, returning shortly with a broom and a long bull whip with a heavy, ornate handle. “This room is terribly dusty, Bobette, sweep it clean,” she ordered, handing her gorgeous husband the broom.

Taming of a Husband

As soon as Bob started to sweep, Yolanda sent the bull whip singing through the air, he shrieking in agony as the metalic tip sliced through his drum-tight uniform and lacerated his buttocks.

“Do you call that SWEEPING?” she shrieked. “I’ll teach you to be lazy in my household … to the dungeon with him!”

“Oh no, not down there,” Bob walled, terror in his eyes.

“You know I never go down there. I’ve pleaded with you to let me take those terrible devices out of there.”

“Now you’re going to find out why I haven’t agreed to your cry-baby pleas,” Yolanda snapped as she grasped her husband’s gloved arm and led him from the room, Bob finding the going very unsteady in the unfamiliar stilt heels.

A few minutes later Bob hung suspended in mid-air by means of a strong chain that girdled his middle. He was doubled up, his gloved wrists fettered to his ankles. A large stone block that was tied to his wrists also hung in midair, creating terrible pains in both his arms and legs.

“Oh, sweetheart, what are you doing to me?” he screamed … My arms and legs feel as though they’re coming out of their sockets … oh I can’t STAND the pain!” Goaded on by the Dante’s Inferno-like atmosphere of the torch lit dungeon, Yolanda sent the whip slicing repeatedly into her husband’s bottom-cheeks with a terrible ferocity. She lashed on without pity, ignoring his wild screams of agony, the leather whined shrilly, then exploding each time with a loud crack as it cut Bob’s uniform to tatters.

Taming of a Husband

Yolanda made one fatal mistake. She was so caught up in her diabolical sadistic passion that she lashed away relentlessly till she was in a state of complete exhaustion, unable to raise her arm for one more blow.

“Release the slave,” she gasped, leaning against the dungeon wall for support.

The END

The Passive Peeper

passive peeper

The Passive Peeper

by Gordon Whirlpool

“Don’t look now, June, but our peeping tom is at the back door again,” Susan said as her roommate came into the house. “Mm, “June responded, “he seems to be dropping around often.”


The two girls lived in a comfortable one-story bungalow in a quiet part of the city. June was a glamorous looking dark- haired girl who was a featured dancer in one of the city’s best nightspots. Her specialty was an exotic number that showed off her 5’7′, 130 pound body to perfection. She moved with a grace and fluidity that belied her above-average size. Susan was a beautiful blonde who modeled lingerie for a large department store. She was 5’5″ and 118 pounds, and boasted an enticing figure.

While both girls were used to having men admire their figures, and indeed enjoyed it, they were getting concerned about the peeping tom. They had first noticed him peering in through the rear door one night about three weeks ago. Their first reaction was to scream, but they had remained silent, hoping he would go away. He had left after a few minutes, but had been coming back, and for increasing periods of time. He could no longer be ignored.

June and Susan now sat in the living room and pondered what to do. “He’s getting on my nerves,” Susan said in a low voice so the peeping tom could not hear her, “and I’m sure he’s the one that’s stolen all those panties of mine off of the clothesline out back.”

“Yes, and I’ve lost several pairs of nylons to him,” June said.

“Apparently he’s going to keep on bothering us unless we do something.”

“But what?” Susan asked. June paused before answering. “I don’t think it will do much good to call the police. We don’t even know his name. I think it would be best to take matters in our own hands. Suppose we could lure him into the house on some pretext, pin him down, maybe take off some of his clothes so he can’t escape, and then work him over until he’s so scared and embarrassed he won’t think of bothering us again.”

“Sounds okay,” Susan agreed, “but how do we do that? After all, he’s bigger than either of us, and we might get hurt trying something like that.” June shifted her position on the couch, showing a good flash of nylon as she did so, muttering, “might as well show our visitor something to keep him occupied while we plot his downfall, “then continued, “I think if we work together we can handle him. I’m big and strong enough to give most men a good tussle, and if I have to get dirty I can be murder on a man in the clinches–as some of the wolves in this town have found out the hard way. And I know you’re stronger than you look, and know a little about handling a man. Remember that creep in the movie lobby? He’s probably still hurting from that knee you rammed into his stomach.”

“I still don’t know, June. I don’t think we can take him on a straight-away, even together, “Susan said. “Well, let’s use a little strategy, and some feminine weapons,” June said.

“I’ve been thinking about a plan since last time he was here. First, to lure him in here, I think we have to make it seem like there’s only one of us around. He probably would be too uneasy with both of us. Now, suppose you pretend to leave on an errand. I’ll toss some curves his way to get him really hooked, then “accidently”‘ discover him without letting on I knew he was out there peeping. Once I get him inside, I’ll turn on the charm and get him in a necking session. I’ll start unloss- ening his clothes until he discovers what I’m up to, then call for help. you come out from where you’ve been hiding, and we’ll get him down, sit on him, and take off his clothes. That should slow him down. Then we can tie him up and work him over.”
After listening to June’s plan, Susan still had some doubts. June argued, “the sooner we do something, the better. He’s been harmless, if creepy, but who knows when he might decide to get a little more aggressive, when one of us is alone. Besides,” she grinned, “I’m itching to get my hands on him. It might be fun to teach him a lesson.”

Susan finally agreed, and prepared to “leave” the house to inaugurate the plan. “So long, I’ll be back in a few hours,” she called out, loud enough for the man to hear from the rear of the house, as she picked up her purse and strode towards the front door.
“Good night, Susan, I’ll do a few chores around here before going to bed,” June answered. She took a long. leisurely stretch on the couch, knowing it provided a good show for her prey. After languishing a few more minutes on the couch, she arose and began to clean up the room, picking up magazines and straightening furniture. She knew the stooping and bending would be appreciated by him. She pretended dissatisfaction with the position of the couch, and gave it a few tugs, but could not move it to where she wanted. She sighed, then strode rapidly toward the back door, apparently to get something from the rear of the house. She saw the face disappear quickly, and knew he was fleeing. But she reached the back door and flipped on the switch to light up the backyard a few seconds later, and as she stepped through the door she pre-tended to notice him for the first time. He had had time only to get several strides away from the house.

“Well, thank you, Jim. It was very kind of you. Now perhaps I can repay you with a kiss. She moved close to him as he stood before the couch. Before he could say anything, she put her arms around him and gave him a long, vigorous kiss. Her hands roamed over his body, and she ascertained that he was not particularly muscular. Just average.
As June let out a little “oh” he stopped in confusion, realized that he was close enough to be recognized and that his nocturnal peeping might be spoiled because of it. He turned and faced her, trying to regain his composure, and said, “Hello, I was just cutting through your back lawn to save some steps on the way home. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

She ended the kiss, and grasped his shoulders. “Mm, that was delicious,” she said. “Shall we try some more?” Without waiting for a reply, she embraced him again, only this time she leaned her full weight against him, and made him stumble backwards onto the couch, her body atop his.

Passive Peeper 3

“That’s okay,” June said breezily, “anytime.” She was sizing him up and saw a light-haired r man, probably in his mid- twenties, of about average size. He was smiling at her. but his whole demeanor was one of deceitfulness. She disliked him more than ever.

Jim was thoroughly mystified by her aggressiveness. Never had such a beautiful, desirable woman thrown herself at him with such abandon, and he wondered what had possessed her. His first thought was that it might be related to his peeping activities, yet the girl had given no sign of doubt when he had explained his presence in the backyard. What, then?

“Say, if you’re not in too much of a hurry, could I borrow your muscles for a few minutes?” she quickly asked. “I want to move a couch, and can’t by myself. I was going to get a crowbar or something from the garage, but I’m sure you’ll do a better job.” She accompanied her request with a dazzling smile, one few men could resist.

He had little time to think about the reasons, for June was forcing his attention elsewhere. He tongue was exploring his mouth, and her hands were roaming over his body again. She could feel his initial stiffness and uncertainty melt under her expert ministrations. He was apparently, and understandably, beginning to enjoy it. His arms went about her, and began to explore her body. She overcame her feeling of disgust at having him handle her this way by thinking how short his pleasure would be.

“Uh, well, I just…” he stammered, but June cut in with, “Ah, it will only take a minute.Please,” she coaxed. “Okay,” he agreed, “if you’re really in need of help.” He followed her into the house, and in a few minutes had the couch where she wanted it. “Why, thank you very much,” she said. “Say, I don’t even know your name.” “Jim, Jim Weston,” he replied.

As soon as she felt that his hands were busy on her and that his attention was fixed thoroughly on the pleasure of the moment, June started to work. She kept one arm about him while she sneaked one hand down to his waist to undo the clasp on his trousers and ease his zipper open.

Now the more difficult task of working his trousers over his hips. To accomplish this, she began to move and toss about, ostensibly to add variety to the necking. This made Jim move too, and every time he raised a hip she gave a slight tug on that side of his trousers. But by the time she had his trousers pulled halfway down his thighs he noticed what she was doing. “Hey, what are you up to?” he yelled, pushing her off him and grabbing at his pants. June knew her curves no longer were effective, but feeling confident of a victory she grabbed at his trousers and said angrily, “Just a little reverse panty raid, Mister. You like to steal our clothes so we’re about to steal yours. Come on, Susan, let’s get him.”

Horrified, Jim struck out angrily at her and clipped her chin, tumbling her off the couch and onto the floor. The blow hurt, and June knew he would not hesitate to hit either girl, hard, to prevent his capture. “Quick, Susan,” she cried as he hurriedly arose, pulled up his pants and fastened the clasp.

Susan rushed from the bedroom, where she had been hiding, and jumped Jim from behind, throwing one arm around his neck and grabbing his hair with the other hand. He started throwing elbows violently. One caught Susan in the stomach, and she sagged to the floor. Temporarily free, Jim started running to the back door, and freedom. But June, still on her back from his shove, stuck out a foot and tripped him, sending him sprawling on his stomach. Both Jim and June scrambled to their feet, and raced each other to the door. Jim reached it first, but as he turned the knob June stopped him by grabbing the top of his trousers in the middle of his back with both hands.

“Whoa,” she said. “You’re not going to get away now.”

To his amazement, Jim could not pull her after him. He could not believe this lovely creature was strong enough to hold him. He was further amazed when she planted one foot against the side of the doorframe, and began straightening her leg. He was pulled away from the door, and he heard the clasp of his trousers break from the tension. He reached down to redo it, and June took advantage of this to reach down and grab both of his cuffs. She, jerked up, and his feet flew out from under him. He tumbled to the floor, rolling onto his back before he could stop his momentum. June crouched over him like a tiger, and noticed that her last tug had pulled his trousers down halfway on his thighs. With a gleam in her eye, she slammed a high heel to the floor in the space between his crotch and the top of his trousers, then knelt to place one knee on his stomach as she tried to wiggle her leg through the opening between his thighs so that he could not pull his trousers up. Jim tried to rise, but June caught his chin with the heel of her hand and jolted his head back. He was knocked flat on his back, and his head rang as it struck the floor hard. This took the fight out of him for a few seconds, and a look of panic spread across his face as he now realized that he was going to lose the battle.This lovely, exotic creature atop him, whose name he did not know but whom he had admired and watched secretly for weeks now, seemed determined not to let him get away. She was a strong, efficient, deadly foe. Jim grabbed at her, but she merely flung his arms away. She was now smiling at his frustrations as she continued to wiggle her leg over the top of his trousers until her knee rested firmly on the floor.

As she shifted position so that she sat with her full weight bearing down on his hips and thighs, she laughed, “Now, you sneak, we have you where we want you. Let’s see how much fight you have without your pants.”

Jim tried to toss his devilish creature off, but she was so firmly seated that he could hardly budge her, and she pinched and tickled him until he gave up and ceased struggling for a moment. By this time Susan had regained her breath and was eager to get even with Jim. She now stood over his head and June said to her, “Good girl, back to the battle. I’ve got him under control. You sit on him up there and I’ll remove his pants.

“Only glad to,” Susan said.

Looking up, Jim saw another girl with fire in her eye. She wasn’t as big as the vixen pinning his hips, but she seemed as determined. With a cry of delight she said, “I have just the way to do it, June. Since he likes my panties so much, I’ll give him a first-hand view of the pair I have on.”

She hitched up her skirt and with a rustle of silk and nylon, began to sit down on his face. Jim started to yell, and raised his hands to ward her off, but she grabbed his wrists and sat hard on his face. His protests were cut off and his vision blocked as he was squashed by a pair of silk panties and surrounded by a jungle of nylons, skirts, and negligee. He could hardly move, or breathe, and Susan added to his discomfort by bouncing up and down a few times.

“Beautiful, beautiful,” June said.

“How appropriate.”

Jim could feel her shift her position and start to remove his trousers. He bucked desperately, but got nowhere. Nearly 250 pounds of shapely but surprisingly strong womanhood was seated strategically atop him, and he didn’t have a chance. The girl on his head was of only average size, but she knew how to pinch and claw and pull at his hands and fingers so that he could not get a good hold of her. And every place he did grab seemed to be covered by slippery nylon or fragile undergarments that frustrated him further. The girl on his hips knew exactly how to use her weight to prevent him from kicking.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” Jim stuttered. “You’re both so attractive, I just couldn’t help watching. And I was afraid you’d turn me down if I asked you for a date.”

The two were now laughing and teasing him about his plight, and this angered him more. How he wished he could do something, but he was as helpless as a baby. Neither looked as strong as they had turned out to be, and it seemed they had muscles they had saved just for him.

Damn them both–the exotic one for being so irresistable and luring him into the house and being so strong and efficient in battling him, and the blonde for knowing how well she could hold him down by sitting on his head.

“You’re right there,” June responded. “Neither of us can stand creeps. But why steal our nylons and panties?”

Jim was really sweating as he answered, “I just considered you had the best pair of legs I’d ever seen, and she had such a beautiful figure I wanted something to remind me of them.”

June now had his trousers at his ankles, and pulled them off his feet after removing his shoes and socks.

“To the victors belong the spoils!” she shouted as she held his trousers aloft triumphantly.

“Three cheers for us!” Susan added.

They then teamed up to remove his shirt. His pleas were so fervent, and appeared so sincere, that both girls started to soften. As he continued to beg, the looked at each other and decided that perhaps they had taught him enough of a lesson. Much as she would like to continue, June thought, he had in his perverse way paid them a compliment.

He was now wearing only his shorts and Jim felt June grasp the top of them. With a wink she asked Susan, “Shall we remove these, too?”

Susan answered shyly, “Let’s let him keep them awhile. Maybe later we’ll find it necessary to take them off. She then rose from her seat on his face.

“Okay, you can go, if you promise not to bother us again,” she said as she arose from him, “but don’t ever let us see or catch you around here again.”

Jim let out a double sigh of relief, but June quickly moved up to straddle his chest. She was not laughing now.

As Susan gathered up his clothes, June said firmly, “Now, Mr. Weston, let’s have some explanations as to why you’ve been peeping on us and stealing our clothes.”

He looked exceedingly embarrassed, but when he did not reply for several seconds June grabbed his shorts and said menacingly, “Talk!”

Jim got up slowly, gathered up his clothes in his arms, and then walked to the rear door. He paused there, turned, and the fury that had built inside him as the girls had taken him down and taken off his clothes exploded as he said, “You can be sure I’ll never be around here again, you devils.”

Then, as the girls listened in amazement, he started calling them names that brought blushes to their faces.

“How disgusting,” said Susan, who had, unnoticed by Jim, locked the doors so he couldn’t run out.

“I agree,” said June, “now what to do with this–thing?” Their amazement turned to fury, and they started walking towards him.

He grabbed the doorknob and said, “You’ll never catch me. I know my way through the backyard, even in the dark.”

He pulled the knob, but nothing happened. He pulled again, and it still did not budge. Frantically, he jerked as the girls closed in.

“Don’t bother, buster, it’s locked,” June said. “Now you’ll really get what you deserve.”

Jim realized why she was so strong. Her attire of a brief, sexy bra and panties revealed a flat, firm stomach, strong muscles along her thighs, and a well-built pair of shoulders. She was as solid as a rock, and incredibly curved.

He whirled to find two grinning girls. He dashed between them for the front door, but found it locked, too.

He turned, and found himself being stalked like jungle prey by two tigers in high heels. He dropped his clothes, and started moving frantically so they could not corner him.

“Susan,” she said, “get a pair of nylons out of the dresser. Since he likes mine so much, I’ll use a pair to tie him up.”

Jim eyed Susan as she went to the dresser and wailed, “Tie me up? What are you going to do?”

The girls were enjoying tracking him down, and gave directions to each other as they methodically reduced the room in which he could maneuver. A chair was pulled out of the way so he could not dodge behind it, a piece of furniture was shoved to plug another avenue of escape.

June said confidently, “I’m going to take you down and tie and gag you so you won’t be able to move a muscle. Then we’ll decide what to do next.”

She was confident he was so confused and scared that she could handle him fairly easily now. They backed him into one corner of the living room, and he looked desperately for a route of escape.

“What’s the matter,” June cooed, “afraid of a couple of girls? Why you’re bigger than either of us.”

As he backed away from her, she mocked, “Afraid of even one girl, big boy?”

He tried to break by her, but she grabbed a hand, sat back on the nearby bed, braced one foot against the bedboard at the foot of the bed, and began pulling.

Jim saw a door, and hoping it led to the outside, opened it and dashed through. A peal of laughter arose from both girls, and too late he realized he had entered one of the girls’ bedrooms.

They chased him inside, then June shut the door, locked it and said, “Now I’ve got you in my room. And you’ll wish you never saw it before I’m through.”

Jim saw the muscles along her leg bulge as she straightened her leg. Though he tried to pull away, her leg was too strong for him, and he felt himself being pulled steadily towards her.

“C’mon to bed with me,” June taunted, “there are a few things I want to try with you.”

Seeking any excuse out he could, he said, “That’s not fair, two against one. You wouldn’t be so brave alone.”

With one big, final push of her leg she tumbled him into bed beside her. Before he could recover, she was all over him. She pinched him cruelly in the ribs, jerked his hair hard, twisted an ear lobe, then smashed a knee into his stomach to double him over. She pushed him onto his stomach and jumped astraddle his back, then snaked an arm around his neck and applied a tight stranglehold. He tried to roll her off, but she rode him expertly. She squeezed hard for several seconds, and when she let go his head bobbed limply.

June replied, “We’re not interested in being fair to you. Only in fixing your little red wagon, and your vile tongue. But if you insist, I’m very happy to take you on–alone.”

She began unzipping her dress, and as she stepped out of it, “Give me a nylon,” she ordered Susan, and while Jim tried to regain his breath she turned around and sat on the back of his legs as she deftly would a nylon around his ankles and tied a knot. His legs were now immobilized.

“Now, let’s tie those arms behind his back,” she said as she again straddled his back. She reached for his hands, but in desperation he clutched them together under his body. June only laughed at this futile move and said, “That won’t stop me.”

She reached under, grabbed one of his little fingers and began to bend it back.

“You bitch!” Jim cried as pain shot through his entire arm.

Her bending made him release his hold, and June dragged his arm from under him and twisted it behind his back. She took the other nylon from Susan and wrapped it around his wrist, then moved a knee up to pin his wrist against his back. Then she reached under and extracted his other arm by the same grip on the little finger, pulled it behind his back, and knotted the wrists together.

Jim started to sob at being so manhandled and June said, “Why, our big man is crying like a baby. And I’ve hardly started. I think we must wash out his mouth with soap for those names he called us, Susan.”

Susan replied, “You bet, I’ll get the soap.”

By the time she returned with a bar of soap June had rolled Jim onto his back and was kneeling at the back of his head, facing him, a knee at each side of his head.

She took the soap and ordered, “Open up.” But jim clamped his mouth shut.

“That’s no trouble either.” June said as she clamped his nostrils shut with one hand.

As his supply of air faded Jim shook his head violently, but her knees restricted his movement. He was finally forced to gulp for air, and June shoved the bar of soap in. He tried to spit it out, but she held a hand over his mouth. The soap taste filled his mouth, and made him choke and gasp violently as the girls laughed. It seemed like an hour before June removed her hand and he could run to the bathroom and spit out the soap. They even held a glass of water for him to rinse out his mouth and bubbles came once again. But his trial was not over yet, for June then jammed a pair of rubber falsies into his mouth and secured it there by a bright red silk scarf which she knotted behind his head. Now he was both bound and gagged with the type of feminine articles that he coveted so secretly. June and Susan gazed down in triumphant satisfaction at their helpless, miserable victim.

“Lovely job, don’t you think?” Susan asked. We can be quite proud of it,” June replied.

“Our peeping tom has been caught, captured, hogtied, and branded. Say, maybe we should make a permanent record of this–just in case he bothers us again. Get your camera.”

Now Susan returned with her camera and flash unit. Jim tried to roll off the bed, to escape this final humiliation, but June took a firm grip on his two ears and twisted him back onto the pillow as one bulldogs a steer. Then she plumped her firm and shapely buttocks clad in their lacy black panties fully on his chest, adding to his discomfort in having his nylon-bound arms beneath the weight of his body by putting her own full weight on it. She raised her clenched fists up and outward in the traditional pose of the victor, causing her lovely, full breasts to jut out over her foaming, gagged prey like a canopy.

“Smile for the camera, you helpless, woman-whipped sissy,” she said turning her head for a pose.

 

“We’ll make several copies of these, Jim Weston, and keep them handy to post on your com- pany bulletin board or publish in the plant newspaper if you ever bother us once we release you or don’t do exactly as we say. There’s a lot of information about you in your wallet iden- tification cards.”

Gagged as he was, all that the poor man could do was register an expression of fear and shake his head “No” to let them know how completely he was at their mercy. Now Susan picked up the quirt she used with her riding outfit, donned her riding boots over sleek black nylons, and interesting touch to her costume of black satin lingerie trimmed with lace and her elbow-length black kid gloves.

“Kneel before me, slave, in silent, begging adoration,” she commanded and Jim lowered himself to his knees on the hard floor while June photographed him in this humbled position before his beautiful captor. She deliberately tickled his nose with the quirt, ordering him not to sneeze. When the inevitable sneeze came, she applied the quirt to his backside, vigorously, a half-dozen times.

“Hey, that’s for horses,” June grinned. “Well, put on your boots and we’ll both wear spurs and ride him across this rough carpet–let’s say all the way around the room three times,” Susan said.

She used a piece of chalk to draw a special course for Jim to crawl. “You understand, Weston-slave, you’re to go this route three times and, by the third, we expect you to have erased this chalk mark.” Now June was ready and Susan put on her rowelled spurs and the two of them released Jim’s arms and legs. The combined weight of the two girls on the gagged man was a cruel burden that called for his strength to remain, upright, yet Jim knew that the girls would show him absolutely no mercy if he failed to complete their ride. Straining under the weight of the beautiful, squirming load, he labored around the room, goaded to still greater effort and speed by Susan tugging on his hair and ears and using the scarf in his mouth as a bit as she “accidentally” dug her spurs into his tender flesh to keep, she explained, from losing her balance. June made her contribution to his painful, torture-wracked progress by lashing at his unprotected rump with the whip and threatening his tenderest areas with her spurs. It was a panting, sore-muscled, pained, and rueful man who finally collapsed on the floor after the ride.

“Why, Jim Weston,” Susan said severely, “imagine your resting like that after it was we who took that exhausting ride! First you must take off our boots for us.”

Wearily he dragged himself to his feet and backed toward the girls one at a time, catching a boot in between his legs (raised high by the girl “to be helpful”) and then hung on to the boot while she kicked him in the rump, often quite forcefully, to help him get the boot off.

“Come on, Jim, lie on the bed and rest,” June said with phoney tenderness. “You poor, little, worn-out, thing; you’ve been through a lot haven’t you?”

His eyes brimming with his own self-pity, the gagged man fell face down across the bed. Thereupon, June tied his wrists behind his back once again and said, “Come on, Susan, I want a pose with you sitting on his neck so that his head comes out between those gorgeous legs of yours.” Then she laid down on the floor for the best angle and took this newest shot of their victim.

“Maybe by now Mr. Weston would like to apologize to us,” Susan suggested. She took the gag off. Dry-mouthed and rueful, the sore-muscled, exhausted man could only lie there gasping.

“Oh come now, Jim Weston,” Susan teased. “Maybe you just don’t quite know how to phrase it. Here, say it this way.”

And then she said and compelled him to repeat: “I, Jim Weston, am a weak, cowardly, sissy-slave captured by and the possession of June and Susan. I pledge to permit them to do anything they wish to me and I promise to carry out their orders, whatever they may be.”

He balked briefly at making this last statement, but June caught his face firmly in her strong hand, put lipstick on his mouth with a lavish touch and warned him that, unless he wanted to be sent out on the streets in full makeup, he’d better not hesitate with anything else Susan ordered him to repeat. He was forced to continue: “I love wearing lipstick and I am a contemptible, snooping, thieving swine who de-serves the most vile punishment you two girls can impose on me. I apologize to you and am grateful to you for the things you have done to me and anything you deign to do to me in the future.”

“That’s great, Susan,” June chortled. “I caught it all on tape and we’ll edit out your part.”

“Please, girls, you’ll not send that to anyone I know,” the suffering man begged.

“Why, of course not, Jim,” Susan said, “We’ll just play it on the phone to your boss.” Then she took the tape and the films outside and locked them in the trunk of her car.

The sweating, desperate man said, “Look, I meant that, even though you said it, I’ll do anything, but let’s keep this just between us.”

Thus the girls had a panty-clad slave laundering their lingerie, then putting on one of June’s silk robes as he went outside, terrified of being detected, and hung it on the line. They made him wear a taffeta apron and clean up their apartment, being severely critical of the slightest bit of dust in the place. He shined their riding boots and polished their spurs, shined their shoes and made their beds. Then the girls locked him in the guest closet for the night tossing in their old clothes they had set aside for rummage as his only bedding and protection against the cold. At five-thirty in the morning, they shut off the alarm and let the sleepy, sore-muscled and stiff man out of the closet.

“You’ll find your clothes outside, hanging on the line, Jim,” Susan said. “All but your shorts. We’re putting them on the back of our shade as a souvenir of this little visit. But you can keep that pair of June’s old panties you’re wearing.”

“Thank you” Jim said in a cracked voice. The fear in his eyes seemed a permanent thing.

“I’m glad to see that you’ve at last learned good manners,” June said, her eyes twinkling.

“I’ve learned a lot,” Jim said, forcing a wry grin.

“Mainly, I hope,” June added, “that you’re our slave from now on. Whenever your phone rings, it may be one of us with some preposterous, embarrassing thing we may be ordering you to do, maybe drop your pants right then, or pretend to faint, or suddenly go out and walk quickly around the block backwards. We may order you to carry lipstick and put it on in the most embarrassing of situations or to take off your shirt and tie and coat and put them on again backwards. You’ll never know, Jim Weston, when you’re going to get your next command.”

“You’ve had us living a life of terror for a long time now, uncertain when the peeping tom would show up again or strike or steal something of ours or maybe hurt us. Now you can know a little of what it’s like.”

“I’ll try to do whatever you say,” he said, cringing.

“Good,” Susan cut in.

“Now go outside and get your things on. Then stick this pair of nylons we had you all bound with in your pocket so that the tops and feet show fully and prominently. We want everyone you pass to notice them. And don’t put them all the way into your pocket until you get home.”

Scarlet with embarrassment, the man in the panties with the lipsticks mouth went into the yard and got dressed. He was careful to arrange the nylons as they had ordered in his breast pocket and walked away. The dangling nylons seemed a flag of victory to the girls, and they grinned with pride as their victim slouched home with his tail between his legs or his nylons hanging, as it were.

THE END