ManMaid
by Gennie TV
Part 3
I finished my second mug of coffee thankful for the time to simply be lost in space for a short while. The familiarity of the action of sitting down to a morning cup of coffee, cherishing the sweet aroma, was enough to help me regain some control of my frazzled nerves. Never have I experienced so much in a single morning. Had someone suggested to me that my wife would femininize me while I slept, tell me she did it for my own good and then demand that I clean the house for her I would have called them at best, crazy. I would never have believed she had it in her, and then to have my sisters help her...
"Well 'gennie' my dear, time to get up off your pretty little (little?) ruffled and padded ass and get to work before your wife comes home and really gets upset with you." (I tend to talk to myself sometimes, especially when stressed) I filled my coffee mug one last time and decided to forgo breakfast. "Maybe I should wear a corset more often if I could always fill up on two cups of coffee I'd really lose some weight." I minced and swayed my way out to the living room to start my first day as a man maid satin clad doll.
I was so amazed at the constant sensations caused by even the minutest movement of my body. Earlier, as I was getting dressed and learning to navigate in skirt and heels my mind was in a fog, focusing on the fine art of survival, but after my mini-breakdown my focus shifted to the sexual frustration of my entrapped manhood. With every push of the vacuum the silk of my blouse would slide against my arm, the straps of my corset and slip would tighten against my shoulder causing the corset to pull up on it's garter straps producing a gentle tug of nylon against my legs, enhanced by the lace hem of my slip rubbing against those nylons, so that my trapped member would scream for a release that I was, for the first time in my life, unable to give it. Pulling the machine back would reverse the process, and I would shudder again. But that was only a part of my troubles, vacuuming carpets in high heels is not a recommend method. In spite of the near constant stimulation caused by my satin prison, I found that if I allowed myself to focus on them, I could not maintain my focus on my feet and keep my ankles straight on the plush carpet. I did discover that if I could keep my weight on the balls of my feet my ankles would wobble less but my calves would hurt more. Then on top of all of that, it seemed that every move I made with my arms my "lovely" new tits would be there to greet them, no matter how I moved my arms there they were. I couldn't win for losing. But I couldn't give up either.
How I was able to vacuum the carpet, wash and dry the laundry (I did not iron, fold, nor put away any of it) and almost finish the bathrooms before Debbie got home is beyond me, especially since I must have had to pee at least ten times during that whole ordeal. The first time the urge hit was as I was getting the vacuum from the closet, fighting with the tangled cord (I couldn't say much it was tangled in my golf clubs I had thrown in the closet a few days before instead of putting them back in their bag after a trip to the driving range, a man's right, I was late for the basketball game on the tube.) I almost fell getting it out and felt no need to rush. I was a man and men are quick in the bathroom, if you don't believe me just check which rest room lines are the longest at any public event, sports, plays, opera ... so I finished my endeavor before heading off to the bathroom, where my automatic male reflexes once again took over.
Stepping up to the toilet I lifted the lid and pulled down my zipper, ahhh in my mind that is, years of training do not die in a single day. My mind simply did not immediately accept my unique circumstances. I almost peed in my skirt. Coming to my senses I realized that even if I was in a position to pull down my zipper I still had to sit. So in order to pee I would have to pull up my skirt and slip, and pull down my panties, pantyhose, and girdle. No problem, until I tried. The skirt was too tight to pull up, so I had to reach behind me and undo the button and zipper, and pull the skirt down, hard enough without those huge melons getting in the way. I then had no problem getting the panties down, but then came the realization that I was wearing stockings attached to garters hanging from a very restrictive corset, OVER the pantyhose and girdle I needed to pull down before I could sit and pee. There was no way I could get the pantyhose down without taking off either the corset or the stockings. In order to remove the corset I would have to remove my BUTTON up the back blouse, my slip, and then unzip that godawful corset zipper that I almost didn't get zipped in the first place. I went with the stockings removal. I could see the whole process in the bathroom mirror and would have laughed at my contortions trying to undo those hellacious back garters, had not the need to pee increased dramatically by that time. Once I got the garter tabs undone I had to get my fingers up under the corset to catch the waist band of the pantyhose and girdle, with some twisting and turning I finally got them down, and landed with a plop on the toilet, just in time. Whew! What a relief. It was so wonderful being able to spread my legs again, even if only for a short time.
Getting re-dressed was as much of an adventure as getting it all off was. I wanted to wear the girdle and pantyhose over the corset but then the garters would've been inside and I would not have been able to wear the stockings at all, and I didn't dare risk leaving out any part of what Debbie had left for me to wear. So I learned to tuck the pantyhose and girdle back up under the corset and finished getting re-dressed. I found that I did not get any better with practice each time I needed to pee I had to go through my awkward contortions in the limited space of the downstairs bathroom watching myself the whole time in the wall mirror. Lusting over my new form I found my self wondering how I would look with proper make-up, a nice hair style and a proper manicure, I would turn sideways and admire my ample rear and bust, or pucker my lips to see how they looked in kissing mode with lipstick applied. However, at the same time that part of me was fantasizing about what kind of woman I would make a little voice inside my head kept reminding me how wrong it was for a man want to look like a woman. I tried to convince myself that my wife was wrong. She had to be wrong. I couldn't be a transvestite. My father and mother, even my priest told me that men should only dress and act like men, to do or feel other wise was wrong, perhaps even sinful. Even if Debbie was right how could I ever overcome a lifetime of conditioning against anything trans-gendered? How much better I would have felt had I been able to jerk off while I was there. Why did she have to find such an efficient chastity for goodness sake? Long before she got home I had convinced myself that I would do whatever she wanted so that I could get some relief. After I gave her a good piece of my mind that is, I was a man and had to stand up for my rights. (yeah right, you bet buddy, your rights as a man, look at your sissy self)
I was just finishing cleaning the sink in the downstairs bathroom when I heard a key rattle in the front door lock. I lost my breath, my heart jumped up into my throat and started to tango with my tonsils, and my knees rattled in time to my heart. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I knew it had to be Debbie, but what if it wasn't? What if someone got her keys somehow, maybe stole her purse and was now going to burgle my house, what could I do? I was helpless. I remember wondering to myself if this is how a woman feels walking out to her car alone, late at night, and sees a man twice her size walking towards her? I just stood there and waited, my massive breasts heaving with each restricted breath I waited. Within seconds that felt like years, I heard a familiar voice sing "Hi honey I'm home." If I had been able to expel enough air from my lungs I would have sighed and relaxed my body, but of course the most I was allowed was a short uggghh and the inability to relax my body because of the corset. My prepared scream for my beautiful wife came out as a pathetic little whimper that a puppy would have been ashamed of. It was however, apparently enough to be heard, for when I stepped out of the bathroom there she was, my beautiful wife Debbie grinning from ear to ear, and standing right next to her was my traitorous sister Karin. I must have turned seventeen shades of red in the few seconds I stood there before them, my humiliation greater than I could ever have imagined. I wanted to speak but my mouth would not cooperate, I just stood there opening and closing my mouth like the idiot I felt, with nothing coming out.
My wife and sister were, by no means, at such a loss. Karin was jumping up & down clapping her hands squealing with delight. My wife stood there with her hands clasped in front of her mouth, her eyes wide, and giggled like a little girl. I was so humiliated that I thought I would pee in my pants...ahhh I mean skirt. Between giggles and squeals they communicated that they wanted me to turn and give them a fashion show "Show off that nice little ass in that sexy skirt there baby. Yeah, mama! Look at the caboose on that sweet thing." they chorused in unison.
"Uggggh."
I of course did my best, but my best just wasn't good enough... My heel caught in the carpet tilting me off balance and sending me straight to the floor. But true to form for the day I couldn't just fall, oh no, not me. On my way to the floor I had to reach out and try to stop my fall and in the process caught the corner of the table cloth, which in turn upset the vase in the center of the table spilling water over the edge, so that it could run off and land square in the center of my face. Between belly wrenching peals of laughter the love of my life did manage to ask if I was OK; if I hurt anything more than my tattered pride. My sister had to sit down she was laughing so hard.
What a scene that must have been. A grown man (wo-man) dressed in silk and satin, big white bow in her, I mean his hair, sprawled out on the floor at least as sprawled as my (my?) skirt would allow, water dripping off the edge of the table into his/her face, wanting nothing more in the world than to find a hole to crawl into, being fussed over by two women that could barely breathe because they were laughing so hard at their pseudo-male's predicament. When they had finally settled down enough to breathe normally they did at least offer to help me up off the floor. What a fool I felt. There I was, me, an adult male, dressed in the loveliest prison of satin and silk, hobbled by a tight skirt and high heels, dripping water from my face onto my artificially enhanced chest, sexually aroused by the slightest movement, and totally unable to do a thing about it. The two women standing before me, appraising me as they would a new dress on a shopping trip, in total control of my life, and enjoying every humiliating minute of it.
It was my sister that spoke first. "Oh gennie you look so wonderful, I never would have believed that you could look so good. Such curves, and you did such a great job on your eyebrows, I'm so impressed big brother, I mean big, (and oh yes they are big aren't they?), sister."
"gennie, my love, I am so happy you decided to follow my instructions so well. Did you get all of the cleaning done dear? Have any trouble with your pretty skirt? I must say it does show off your cute little (well maybe not so little) rounded ass very nicely. That should make any inconvenience worthwhile, isn't that right dear? Have any trouble with the toilet? Did you remember to sit like a good little girl always does? Isn't it so much nicer to sit like a proper lady than that nasty whip it out and pee everywhere but in the toilet routine that those nasty men, yes like you used to be, do?"
The more my wife taunted me the angrier I became. I was a man, and what's more I was the man of this, my house. I was not some wimpy pervert that wanted to be a woman. I was born male and males are meant to rule the world, not wear skirts and clean house. I pursed my lips, and set my fists on my hips with my arms akimbo, and attempted to look mean. I don't think it worked. Karin giggled harder and Debbie just smiled.
"Oh gennie, don't look so glum. You look as though you haven't enjoyed your first day of femininity. Or is it my questions? Are they embarrassing you? Well dear think back on all the times you have taunted me and your sisters about our status as females. As if our only purpose in life is to please a man. Your belief that just because we are women we should wear restrictive, revealing, embarrassing clothes, so that you can sit back and gawk at us as we bounce our tits and wiggle our asses, is more than just disgusting it's insane. By the end of the summer gennie my love, you will have had a full spectrum of experience in the life of a well endowed, sexily clad, woman. Our goal is not to punish or embarrass you, although those are very favorable side effects, our goal, your sisters and I, is to educate you. As I said in my note to you earlier, we know you are a transvestite and we are going to help you realize it as well."
My reply was not as forceful as I had intended, but hey I was under tremendous stress at the time. My toes hurt from the pointed shoes they were pressed into, my calves hurt from the unnatural stress placed on them by those spike heels, my encased cock screamed for release, and my ankles wobbled more than ever because I could not look down and see my feet, only tits.
"OK 'girls' (a bad choice of words as I quickly discovered) you've had your fun, now get me out of these clothes and that torture device around my waist. I've done what you've asked of me, or rather demanded, and have learned my lesson. I admit that it takes a different set of motions to navigate, that a person must be more aware of his, ahh... her actions prior to taking them, such as descending or ascending stairs, or sitting down in a chair, or walking even. I can now say that I have experienced life in a skirt and I will be more understanding and tolerant when Debbie says she does not want to wear a tight skirt. And I am sorry for asking her to wear tight skirts that show off her 'nice little ass' (even if she should); she has a nice ass and should be proud to show it." I certainly succeed in digging myself an even deeper hole with my (I thought innocent) statements.
Both Karin and Debbie replied in unison, almost as if they had practiced. "GIRLS!! UNDERSTANDING!! TOLERANT!! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE! GOD's GIFT TO HUMANITY?!"
"Whoa, I only meant..."
"We know what you meant brother dear, and we don't appreciate it. We have barely begun to dent that awful condescending attitude you have toward us. By the time we are done with you, you will truly 'understand' what it means to be an equal, and how women are treated as anything but. Any doubts I had about what we are doing to you, any worries I had about your reactions, have now been erased. I want my sweet, caring, considerate brother back, and I am now convinced that the only way to do that is to force you to look inside and release the human inside you. The 'gennie' that you have suppressed for so long is now being released, and if we get a little revenge and you experience a little discomfort in the process, so be it. It will help you to never forget what you have done to us for so long."
"I agree totally with what Karin just said dear. You have not learned much of anything yet. I brought Karin home with me so that she could fix your hair and do your make-up for you before we attend your support group meeting tonight."
"What do you mean, 'support group meeting'? I'm not going anywhere dressed like this. Karin doesn't need to fix my hair, its fine the way it is. What Karin needs to do is go and get my clothes so that I can change back into something decent, while you give me the key to that godawful thing you locked around my waist. Now!"
I wanted to stomp my foot for emphasis but I couldn't raise my knee high enough in that skirt to be effective.
They looked at each other and just grinned, as if I had once again reacted exactly as they had expected. It was my wife that spoke first. "Yes love you are exactly right, you are not going anywhere dressed as you currently are. 'Decent' clothes as you call them are in the shopping bags in the back seat of my car. You'll need to go out and get them. Although I doubt they will be what you had in mind. As for the key to that 'godawful device' around your waist, there is no key (I gasped, and went white, Debbie's grin just got bigger knowing I was misunderstanding what she was saying) your training corset has a front zipper, so that you can get it on and off easily. We do have a nice heavy corset that you will just absolutely love, and that one has a lock on it for our convenience for when you have misbehaved, but that will come later."
The look of horror on my face must have really delighted her, for she again started to laugh and went on. "OH! I'm sorry you meant the key to your chastity device. Well dear by all means here." She dangled a key in her outstretched hand waiting for me to take it.
So I excitedly grabbed the key only to notice that it had a logo of some sort stamped into it, and it was much too large to fit the lock on my chastity. "What's this?" I asked. Such an intelligent question deserves an equally intelligent response, and my lovely wife just loves to have such opportunities to get even with me.
"Why it's a key dear. Haven't you ever seen a key before?" How could anyone so diabolical, respond with such an innocent expression on her face? Karin elaborated. "gennie dear, it's a key to a safety deposit box here in the city. You hold in your hand the key to your freedom, all you have to do is figure out where the box is and whose name it is in. The box is setup so that you have full access, under your real name, looking like you do now, anytime you wish. In case of emergency, you become pregnant or something, both Debbie and I have each have keys. Debbie may decide to use hers when she wants to use what's locked away in there, I of course, don't care if you ever get loose. So I would suggest sisterbrother dear that you go out of your way to keep us happy.
*********************************************
© 1998 by GennieTV. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all
articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No
portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or
otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.