Synopsis:

Sissies' Revenge
We've all read the story of the wife who forces the husband to be her maid and is openly cuckolded. But what if the husband had just a little more backbone then your average sissy and was just a little more confident in his feminine role then the average sissy and just a little more intelligent as well? Ron was living a crossdresser's dream, then he got caught and it became a nightmare. See how he copes with his wife's decission to take him all the way to womanhood.

Rated R non graphic sex scenes.

Story:

Sissies' Revenge

By Patty Marie

Prolog:

My Doctor found out about my crossdressing. It wasn't like I had intended to tell her, but it was sort of hard not to, given the sequence of events. I had been trying to start my own online business while working full time at a 9-5. That meant 40 + hours there and 60+ at home. Needless to say, I hardly had time had time to sleep, let alone eat properly. Usually my diet consisted of as many raw calories as I stuff in while still working a keyboard and mouse to do research and cut deals with suppliers. Whatever I ate, was washed down with gallons of coffee and any other caffeine drink I could find, augmented by caffeine supplements. Can you say "NoDoze?" Or maybe, "Wired?"

You could ask, just why was I so determined to get this business off the ground? Easy, have you've every looked at specialty shops that cater to crossdressers. The prices are outrageous and the offerings are so garish that it makes you want to puke. I mean who needs six-inch platform heels when you're already on the tall side for a woman? That kind of shoe would put me over 6' 3". Now there's a woman who'd get noticed. My theory on dressing as a woman is simple. You want to look like a woman. Just your average house wife. It's a lot easier to pass if you don't stand out. I was determined to provide clothes for crossdressers at the same prices as women buy them.

Well anyway, Lucille, my new wife, insisted I go to the doctor about my run down condition. Since I had given her my symptoms over the phone, the doctor drew some blood as soon as I came in. Her nurse took it somewhere. She then took the usual readings, blood pressure and pulse, listened to my heart and lungs. We talked about what I was doing. She'd ask a question, I'd answer, she'd nod and make a note. Just as I was sure we were done, the nurse brought in some paper work.

The doctor looked it over and said, "Just as I thought, with your eating habits. You have a vitamin deficiency and I'd guess you also have a sleep deficit." She turned to the nurse. Prepare multi shot while I write a prescription." She went on to lecture me about taking better care of myself. She gave me a list of vitamins I should take and quantities. Then, as the nurse returned with a syringe, said, "OK, turn around and drop your pants. We'll get you started right."

Oops. I never considered I'd have to do anything like that. I had my red panties with black lace on. My face burned as I did as I was told. I tried to hook my panties with my thumbs to pull them down at the same times, but the doctor noticed my efforts.

"No need to pull your underwear down, you just hold your shirt out of the way. I'll take care of the underwear."

Well, she is a doctor and the Hippocratic oath forbade her from telling anyone about what she found out in the process of ministering to me. "Umm, nice,' she said and plunged the hypo home.

Red faced, I pulled up my pants, "Look Doc, ah, I..."

"Don't worry about it, I see that kind of thing all the time. You'd be surprised just who, if I could tell you. Your secret is safe here," she smiled.

When Lucille heard my diagnosis, she took charge of my diet, and seeing to it I got the right supplements. She sold pharmaceuticals and could get what I needed practically free and in the latest forms.

It's up and running.

OK, so I did all the work, the money should be rolling in anytime now. Three weeks went by and I didn't get one nibble. It occurred to me that I had to promote the web site. I went through another round long days and nearly wiped out everything I had in reserve, but the business finally began to get customers. It didn't pay its way, but I was able to defray the cost. The good thing was that the hours necessary to keep it running was considerably less then the hours needed to get it going, which allowed me to work enough overtime to pay for the lack of income and keep us from going broke. I tracked the business and it showed a steady climb. Not fast, but steady. I figured if I could hold on for three years, I could reach break even. And hold on I did then for another year, I poured all the profit right back in and promoted the site, add to the line and changed the look just a little and made it attractive to plus sized women as well as crossdressers. Then at the end for the fourth year, the business took off like gangbusters. Two straight quarters of profit. By the third quarter, it brought in more than I made at the old 9-5. It was then that at the end of the year, it had made enough pay back all that I had invested, except my time. It was taking three to four hours a night to process all the orders.

The business is as simple in operation as it was difficult in setting up. I have suppliers that will drop-ship to my customers. They order, I forward the order to the appropriate supplier and pocket the difference. No inventory; I sell for other people. Well, with the business showing a solid profit, I was ready to quit the 9-5, so I went to Lucille. I showed her the books from day one. She was a bit upset at first that I would risk the amount of money that went into the start-up but in the end, she was OK with it. But she wanted me to wait another year to quit. So for a year, I did double duty.

Oh, by the way, like most crossdressers I made the mistake of not telling my wife about my little hobby. You know, I actually thought it would go away when I was married. I mean why would I need it? It was mostly a sex thing right? No, I found out it was much more then that. But I digress. In the fifth year of my business, I finally quit my job and went full-time as a work from home entrepreneur. It was great. I achieved every crossdressers dream. I worked dressed. Lucille and I would get up and we'd have breakfast. She'd head out for work, while I stayed home. Before doing the breakfast dishes, I'd become Lynn, my alter ego. I'd spend the morning processing my orders and the afternoon looking for ways to improve my service. About an hour before Lucille was due to come home, I'd shower and become Ron again. It was great.

I had a perfect existence, even if my marriage had its share of problems. Oh don't get me wrong My wife was great and I loved her more then life itself. But the secrecy and long hours at the computer in the first years of our marriage didn't lend itself to relationship building. Combine that with the fact that after about five years, marriages leave that honeymoon stage and begin their settle in process. Well, since our relationship was still shallow, we had it a bit rocky. I think she began to resent my mistress... that is my computer. I spent more time with it then I did with her. We tried to concentrate on quality time. You know do really fun things when we both took time off. Well, let me tell you, quality is good, but without quantity, you never get a deeper relationship then high school kids. I tried to make it up by giving her things, you know all the things that women say they want. The one thing I didn't give her was me. That, I gave the business.

Then one day disaster struck. It was two in the afternoon and I had just finished processing the overnight orders and was fixing lunch. I had a smoothie going in the blender. When it was done, I poured it into the waiting glass. When I turned around, I froze. There was my wife staring at my white turtleneck and gray box pleated skirt. Our eyes locked.

Finally she asked, "Ron, why in God's name are you dressed like that?"

"Lucille, you're home early."

What followed was a painful explanation of my "hobby." I told her about what I found out via the Internet. She said now she understood why I wanted an Internet business selling women's plus size clothing. In the end, her reaction was less then I'd have hoped for. As a matter of fact, it seamed to put cold water on our already cooling relationship. We hardly spoke for the next month. I even gave up my dressing while I worked. I was afraid that anytime, she would announce that she couldn't stand being married to a pervert and demand a divorce.

You can imagine my surprise and trepidation when over breakfast one Saturday she asked, "What do you call yourself?"

"What? I don't know what you mean, I'm Ron, like I've always been."

"You can't be Ron when you work, not the way you dress."

"Oh, well, I've given that up."

"You shouldn't you know. I finally took your advice and started using my computer to get online and research your problem. I understand that you "trans-people" have a... ah, oh yeah, a femme name. What do you call yourself?"

"Oh, ah, Lynn."

"OK Lynn, I've thought about it. Since you say you can't help yourself and that you have to play dress up, I've decided that it's OK with me if you do, providing you do it by my rules."

I was relieved. This meant that she was going to at least try to live with it. I knew the drill from my online friends. "Don't ever let me see you, don't ever let the neighbors or my friends, etc. find out." All those things most wives demand. You've heard them all before. Well, imagine the look on my face when what she wanted was the farthest thing from that.

"The first thing," she said, "you should do is get rid of all you men's underwear and move your girl's clothes into your closet.

"Next, make an appointment with an electrologist and get rid of all that unsightly facial hair. Get rid of those few hairs around your nipples as well." I had never been what you would call hairy. "What's more, you can quit changing clothes before I come home. No sense dirtying two sets of clothes every day. If my husband has enough of a feminine side that he has to wear women's clothes, then I might just as well get used to it.

"This last month, it's driven me nuts imagining what you have on while I'm at work. So now, I expect you to get up and do the womanly thing. Make yourself pretty, get breakfast for the family and see me off to work."

Now, that was a real change. By Monday morning I didn't own any men's underwear. My closet was full of dresses, skirts and blouses. They were all freshly laundered and pressed. My chest of drawers contained lingerie and pantyhose, just like any woman's. as a mater of fact, except on rare occasion, I haven't worn men's clothes since. All with Lucille's permission, nay insistence. I was even wearing perfume.

I was in crossdresser's heaven. Monday evening Lucille was very attentive and had me doing all sorts of girlish things. I did her nails and brushed her hair. Of course since I was dressed for the part, I did the dishes. In the morning she left a list of household chores she wanted me to do. It was a pretty demanding list and I really had to hump to get it done after I took care of my business. I didn't mind, really. It was as if I was the housewife and my wife was the breadwinner. She often admonished me to be sure I looked pretty for her when she came home. In addition to all the other things I did, getting dinner became my exclusive job.

Lucille made another of her upgrades in the combination of vitamins I took. It wasn't unusual. She often exchanged one pill for another. I didn't pay too much attention to it when two new pills showed up in my regimen. The only thing that was unusual was that they came in plain bottles. I was to take one of the big ones and one of the little ones morning and evening. When I asked her about them, she just told me that they were something new her company was making. She told me that while they had been fully approved by the FDA, they hadn't developed the packaging yet.

Things went along nicely for about a month. Lucille even bought me presents. Mostly it was clothes she thought would look good on me. She seemed to have a thing for short skirts and dresses. On my own, I've always considered knee length to be short. An increasing number of the things she bought me were mid-thigh or shorter. One dress had a very full skirt and built in petticoats that made it stand out. I accused her of mugging cocktail waitress and stealing her uniform. That idea was reinforced when she wanted me to wear it with fishnet stockings and four-inch heels. For me two-inch was comfortable and three-inch was high. When I complained, she laughed and told me, since I thought I was dressed for the part, I could just serve her drinks that evening.

She drank a lot that evening. As she did, she got more and more demanding. It got to the point she demanded that I curtsy to her each time served her. I didn't want to cause any problems, so I went along with her. That Friday she came home with a French maid's uniform. She told me that I had looked so cute bobbing and curtsying that she wanted to try me as a maid for the weekend. I was relegated to the spare bedroom where I ran my business from the computer. In the morning, I was expected to be up early, dressed in my uniform and get my "mistress" breakfast. Much to my later regret, I acceded to her demands.

She kept me hopping all weekend. Any little thing she wanted, she rang a bell and I had to fetch and carry for her. She gave me a list of chores to do over the weekend. I hand washed her delicates; I did her ironing and mending. Of course I prepared her meals and served them to her in the dining room. However, I was the maid and had to eat in the kitchen.

Thankfully, she did give me some time to myself in the evening and I managed to forward all of my orders so that they would be shipped on time.

Monday morning I was informed that I had to have my uniform laundered and pressed by Friday, because she wanted a maid for the weekend again. I was allowed back in "our" bedroom again that week. But on Friday, she told me to be in uniform when she came home.

As soon as she got home it started again in earnest. It was obvious she had stopped off for a drink on the way home. It seemed that nothing I could do would please her. She reprimanded me several times. The roast I had prepared was dry. I apologized and pointed out that I had had to keep it warm for over an hour. With that, she became infuriated that I would suggest that it was her fault. After that, things went down hill. It seems I had chosen an inferior wine, like she could tell with the snoot full she came home with. I was slow in serving. On and on went the complaints. I was practically in tears by the time she finished dinner. I was late (according to her) coming to refresh her after dinner drink. To top that off, it was poorly made. That was the last straw. Claiming that I had been asking for it all evening, she pulled across her knees and spanked me. I struggled and kicked, but she had caught me off guard. Using her left hand to hold my right arm in a hammerlock, she tucked my skirts under my elbow and whacked me soundly across my panties until I just whimpered. Not even as a child had been spanked so thoroughly. I couldn't look her in the eye after that. I was glad that I had taken care of all the orders for my business before she came home because I didn't dare venture beyond the kitchen the rest of the evening. I was up extra early on Saturday to process the overnight orders. I then got her breakfast assuming my maid's duties. I resolved that if she wanted a maid, then I'd be the best maid in the world. I exaggerated the bobs and curtsies. I punctuated every sentence I spoke with "Ma'am" and when given a direct order I curtsied and said, "Yes, mistress." I hurried to carry out every order. When not taking care of a specific task, I busied myself with the dusting and such. I even got out our meager supply real silver and polished it, all without being told. She ate it up and seemed genuinely pleased.

Sunday after lunch she went out for a while. I took advantaged of the time to work my business. Just as I finished I heard her come in. I quickly rushed to front door to see if she needed anything. To my horror, Betty, our next door neighbor was with her. Betty is a widow. Her husband died in and industrial accident several years ago. He was well insured and all of their major debt had been covered by term policies and his life insurance left her with a very comfortable annuity that would, in all likelihood, out last Betty.

The other thing about Betty is that she has always been overly friendly to me, personally. Whenever I saw her outside, she would come over and talk and flirt, sometimes quite openly. Even Lucille had noticed. Well, here she was, looking at me in my maid's uniform all made up. I guess that'll cool her jets. I'm sure that was Lucille's plan in bring her in, unannounced.

"Betty, I don't believe you've met my maid Lynn. Say hello to Miss Betty, Lynn."

I curtsied and bobbed my head. "Hello Miss Betty," I parroted, my cheeks on fire.

There was a twinkle in her eyes. She had realized immediately who I was and was enjoying the knowledge. "Hello Lynn," she grinned. "Lucille, I'm jealous. I've always considered myself well off, but I never felt I could afford a maid." She was still grinning at me.

"Well, she's only here on the weekends, but I take full advantage of her then."

"Lynn, prepare a lunch for Miss Betty and me. Serve it on the patio. Bring us some iced coffee."

"Yes, ma'am."

They went outside and made themselves comfortable on our patio furniture. I prepared the coffees and went out to the patio. Betty still had a glint in her eyes.

"How did you ever talk him into it?" she asked.

"Oh, I didn't have to talk him into anything. It was quite the other way around. It was quite a shock when I came home and found him all dressed up. It took me nearly a month for me to warm up to the idea. Of course now, I wish we had come to this arrangement years ago."

I went back to the kitchen and began to fix chef's salad we had planned for lunch. The patio was just outside the kitchen and the window was open. I could hear Lucille filling in Betty on what duties I had taken over since becoming her maid. Listening to that I was reminded that Lucille and I used to share household chores, but in the three months since my crossdressing was revealed, I slowly, but surely, had taken on every chore. In the two months since I had become the weekend maid, Lucille had become "mistress of the manor."

I quietly closed the window so I wouldn't have to listen to the conversation. I had to blink back my tears. "Mistress" wouldn't be pleased if I ruined my make-up. The last thing I wanted was to give her any reason to spank me in front of Betty. - Yes, she had spanked after that first time. Not often and not as severely, but I had been spanked, and spanked more deliberately. Lucille seemed to enjoy that and  I found it best to just go along and pretend to be cowed. It was just easier.

I served lunch, refreshed their drinks, then cleared away the dishes, put them into the dishwasher and was bending over to close the door when it happened. I felt a hand groping my pantied butt. It wasn't the first time Lucille had reached under my skirt. Frankly I found it sexy. I just didn't think she'd do it with someone in the house. What am I saying, I never thought there'd be someone in the house. I knew better then to object. I closed the door and straightened up.

"I couldn't resist fondling those pretty panties," Betty said.

"Betty, not Lucille!" I thought. I took a deep breath. I knew that if Lucille caught me permitting this I'd be spanked and if I objected and Betty told her, I'd be spanked. It was a "damned if you do and damned if you don't" situation.

All this happened about the same time as I began to notice a tenderness around my nipples, followed by a little lump directly underneath. I had read a little about it on the Internet and spent a little time accessing newsgroups, so I suspected somewhere in my "vitamin" mix that hormones, like estrogen, would be found, or at least phyto-estrogen. Likewise, and this had me worried, the size and arousal response of my male equipment began to diminish. I wasn't interested in loosing the use of that precious piece of my anatomy.

I made an appointment with my doctor. It took a couple of weeks to get in and by that time I could see breast development. For the first time in over three months, I put on guy clothes. I foresaw the doctors questions about what meds or supplements I took and brought in everything, including the two in the plain bottles. The doctor examined me, poking and prodding. She asked, "Are you on any medications or are you taking dietary supplements?"

"No medications, but I am on a vitamin regimen." I produced my sack of pills.

The doctor looked at each and "ummed" a few times. She got to the plain bottles, opening the big one first. Taking one out, she examined it and glanced at me as she took out her "Physicians Desk Reference." She flipped through a few pages, made some notes and looked at the contents of the small plain bottle. She flipped the pages again, looked up at me and studied me for a moment, then made some notes. Taking the larger of the two she asked, "How often are taking these?"

"Two times a day, one in the morning and one in the evening."

"And these?" she asked, touching the smaller.

"The same."

"I think that explains everything. How long have been on this HRT regimen?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"HRT, Hormone Replacement Therapy. These pills, how long have you been taking them?"

"Nearly three months." I suspected, but I didn't want to think about it.

"You do realize that the effects of these are irreversible. That in another three to four weeks you'll be chemically castrated."

"Ah... no." I had been afraid of that from the beginning, but didn't want to think about such. "Lucille couldn't have know about that part. Surely she just intended for me to grow breasts," I thought

The doctor continued, "I'll be able to tell more after the blood tests come back, that's the usual course... Did you say 'No'?!"

"I didn't realize that. Look, doctor, All I really wanted to do was grow a modest bust line, so that when I dress up it will look more natural."

"I see. Well, then we need to take you off these immediately," she said, indicating the smaller of the two. "They are a testosterone blocker. They could, no, they will permanently destroy your ability to produce your own testosterone and sperm. I hope it isn't too late already. In all likelihood, there are already some permanent effects. Hopefully it will only be a reduction." She picked up the phone and dialed. "This is Dr. Baker. I sent some blood over for a hormone level check. I need the results, stat..." she paused. "Good, I'll have the patent over there in a few minutes. You can release the results to him." She hung up. "They'll be ready in forty-five minutes. Bring them back and I'll go over them with you during lunch."

The doctor had me join her at the Deli across the street. As she sipped her coffee, she looked over the reports. "Just as I suspected your testosterone levels are way down and your estrogen level is actually higher then mine.   Now hopefully, once we get those testosterone blockers, out of your system, those levels will come back. If they don't, you'll be effectively sterile. I want you back in for another blood test in two weeks. You can go right to the lab and make and appointment with me two days after they've drawn blood."

To make a long story short, I did. The doctor also advised me that I'd do well to consider implants. "You'll get the desired effects a lot sooner."

"I don't know. I've heard a lot of negative things about silicone causing all kinds of problems later."

"I have a friend who is a plastic surgeon. She has had quite a bit of success transplanting fat. I can give you a referral."

"Transplanting fat?"

"Yes. Your love handles become your breasts. It may be possible to give you hips and make your waist smaller at the same time as well, providing you have enough fat in your belly. You know to 'round' out the package," she smiled.

"I'm still not sure. Won't that cost a lot?"

"Probably not as much as you think. I think it's a much better option then trying to walk the fine line between growing your own and loosing your ability to function sexually."

"What I'm really unsure about is asking for boobs and still wanting to function as a man."

"Don't let that bother you. You won't be the first she's done nor the last."

"I'll think about it and let you know."

Well, I did think about it. When next I saw the doctor asked her for the referral. Oh, in case you're wondering, we caught it in time. My libido came back with a vengeance. It took another couple of weeks to get in to see the plastic surgeon. And I stayed on the estrogen at half dosage the whole month. The breast growth stagnated, but my nipples continued to enlarge and darken.

"So, Dr. Baker tells me you want have the best of both worlds," Dr. Evans said as she did some poking and prodding on my chest.

"I guess that would be a good way to put it."

"What size breast did you have in mind?"

"Oh, nothing overly large. A "B" cup would do nicely."

She took some other measurements. "That should be easy enough." A few more measurements and she continued, "We could probably add about a half an inch to your hips, but I couldn't guarantee conformity. And it would more then double the cost, not to mention the recovery is painful since we're dealing with the part you sit on."

"I doubt I'd like that. Besides I'm not sure that I can even afford the breast enhancement."

"Well, on approved credit, I could carry you on contract. How's your credit rating?"

"Actually, it should be great. My business has been in profit mode for the last two years and is growing."

She stepped out of the examining room for a moment and brought back some forms. "Fill this out and I'll have my office manager run a quick check. If everything is good, we can schedule you for two weeks from today."

I filled out the forms and while I got dressed the office manager ran the check. Isn't the Internet great? While we waited for the results I asked about the surgery and recovery time. I found out it was an out-patient procedure and I would have to wear an underwire bra for six weeks and then it would be as if I had grown them myself. She also told me it was a plus that I had taken the hormones so that my nipples were already developed. That would cut the cost considerably. When the report came back, she laid out the operation and costs and did a preliminary agreement. She told me that her office manager would have it in the form of a contract in a week and I should come by and sign off on it. She told me I could come in, in a dress. I'd certainly want to on the day of the operation.

Well, when we finally got to it I scheduled for a month later. I walked in with a small lump under my nipples and walked out about three hours later with a "B" cup bust. A sore "B" cup and sore abdominals.

On the home front, things remained pretty much the same, except that Betty found more and more excuses to be at our house and continued to be places where she could cop a feel of my pantied bottom.

Lucille got a promotion. She was the first woman to make sales manager in her company. About the time the doctor had said that I'd have become totally dysfunctional, Lucille developed an affinity for oral sex. She clamed that she just too tired for the other, but needed the release. I was dutiful in that regard. More hours, specifically evenings and weekends went along with her promotion. She was always at some meeting or function. It wasn't long before my chief duty on Friday and Saturday was to see that she had suitable clothes to change into and the help her dress. It seemed to me that her taste in lingerie changed. When she had been mostly practical before, she now ran more to the ultra feminine... (dare I say it?) ... sexy. Where pantyhose had been her staple, she now preferred garters and stockings. Her contention was that since she had to wear them longer hours, they allowed her... ah, private part... to breath and stay cooler. This also went along with her choice of eveningwear, which began leaning more toward the provocative. All the while, she became more insistent on oral sex. Most often she wanted it first thing on Saturday morning and again Sunday morning. The later she had been out, the more she seemed to relish my service and the more she asked if I liked "doing" her that way and, "Didn't it taste good." There was something different about the taste. Kind of musky and salty. I couldn't explain it, really, but it was different.

While Betty and Lucille had been friendly before, weekends found Betty practically living at our house. She became bolder, openly telling Lucille just how hot I looked. She took to stroking the front of my thigh when she said it. One Thursday evening when she came for dinner she made a real bold move.

"You know Lucille, you'd better watch out. I'm tempted to try and steal this little jewel," Betty told her while tracing a line between my knee and just under my hemline, with the back of her fingers.

"I think I'd object to you stealing her, but I might just loan her to you, say two days a week?"

"Oh, that would be great," Betty said, suddenly changing the position of her hand to surround my legs and cup my right, panty clad cheek. "What do you say Lynn? Want to come be my maid a couple of days a week?"

I know that Lucille had no doubt where her hand was. "Whatever Mistress says," I stammered, unsure of what Lucille's feelings were about Betty's familiarity.

Lucille smiled. "Well then how about Wednesday and Thursday?"

"That will be great." Betty told her.

"Now Lynn, I expect that you will do everything for Miss Betty that you would do for me. Whatever she wants. Understand? If she even hints that she was displeased or disappointed I'll be angry and you know what that means."

"Yes Mistress," I said doing my best curtsy with Betty's hand still on my butt.

"You may clear away," Lucille told me. As I was coming and going, I heard Lucille extol my virtues to Betty. "... but best of all, when you're feeling frustrated, Lynn has a very talented tongue. She certainly takes care of all my problems."

That evening Lucille required the services of my "talented tongue."

"Betty's in for a real treat, you know. I wish I had known about this from the beginning. When I think of all the years I've missed out on this well... it's a shame, that's all. A real shame."

That weekend, Lucille was out again, as usual. Friday she came in about four in the morning and called me in to service her at six. She deferred her bath until later, after a nap. Saturday, she was literally out all night. It was light when she came in and wanted "service" before going to bed. The musky, salty taste was stronger then ever.

The next Wednesday came and I got up early and took care of my business before Lucille was up. I dressed in my maids uniform, as instructed and got breakfast for her. As she left for work, she kissed me tenderly.

"Now you be a good girl for Miss Betty today. While you're there consider her your mistress." She patted me on the bottom and left chuckling.

I presented myself at Betty's back door promptly at 9:00, as instructed. Servants can't enter through the front door. That suited me fine. While I have gone out dressed I had no desire to parade around the neighborhood in that get up. Betty greeted me with a grin verging on evil. It was certainly naughty.

"Good morning Lynn. Come in. I've got a list of things you need to get done today." She was still in her nightgown, though her make up was immaculate. She went over her list. It included the usual things. Dusting, cleaning and laundry. But topping the list was hand washing her lingerie and drawing her a bath.. She explained I could do the lingerie in the bathroom sink while she bathed. That would assure that I'd be available should she need anything.

I drew the bath using plenty of bubble bath while she supervised. Then she had me assist her undress. I was quite taken with her body. A slender waist, pleasant breasts with erect nipples and round hips giving way to long shapely legs and dainty feet. She seemed to be totally indifferent to being naked, or even enjoyed being naked in my presence. She slipped into the bubbles, hiding her goddess like figure from view, allowing me to concentrate the task at hand. I.E., the washing of her lingerie.

I was well versed the litany of the job, having done Lucille's for two months now. I utilized both sinks, one to wash and one to rinse. As I finished each one, I spread it on a large fluffy towel to dry.

As I finished up, Betty required my assistance. "Lynn, shampoo my hair please," she said crisply.

Obedient to her instruction I lathered and rinsed then lathered again and left in so the built in conditioner could work. "Shave my legs," she instructed lifting her left out of the bubbles. I found her shaving gel and rubbed on, by hand, the entire length of her leg. Her breathing became heavy as I worked on her inner thigh. I repeatedly drew the razor the length of her leg. When I was finished, she presented her other leg for a repeat performance. I could see the lust build in her eyes as I worked. She was getting off on my touch. When I was through, she used her feet to lower the water level enough to expose her magnificent breasts. Leaning forward, she commanded that should  I wash her back. I complied and after, she leaned back. "Keep washing," she said, glancing down at her now heaving breasts. Her erect nipples were clearly visible through the sparse bubbles clinging to her. As commanded I massaged the soap over her flesh. Her eyes closed and she lay back, virtually squirming with pleasure. When I reached her belly, she gasped, stood up and commanded, "rinse me." I took her hand held shower and carefully rinsed her head, her body, arms and legs.

Anticipating her need, I patted her dry with the large towel on the rack. I followed that with a liberal dusting of powder. At her instance I smoothed it with my hands. She trembled under my touch.

"Oh Lynn, you have such a sensual touch. She took my hand and led me to her bedroom. Laying akimbo on the bed, she said, "Let's find out just how talented your tongue really is."

"Miss Betty," I said, "should I really do that?"

"You know what Lucille said, 'obey me as you would her.' You wouldn't want me to tell Lucille you were uncooperative now would you?"

I curtsied and bent to the task. I didn't want to be spanked by Lucille. I was taken by the freshness of the taste not at all like Lucille Sunday morning.

The rest of the day, I did laundry, cooked and cleaned. Late in the afternoon, Betty worked hard at trying to humiliate me by referring to me as a sissy slut maid. But I just looked at the floor and waited for her to run out of adjectives. She took advantage of my tongue again, telling me that Lucille should rent me by the hour to sex starved housewives. That did get me, but I didn't let it show. I had to be back by five, so I could get dinner for Lucille. At about 4:30, Betty had me sit at the kitchen table.

"Lynn, I should apologize to you. I don't know much about the domination lifestyle. When I asked Lucille to borrow you, I thought we could have some fun together. While you have done everything I asked, I get the feeling that you didn't have a good time. Am I right? Please answer truthfully. I really want to know."

"You're right," I said looking down.

"Well, tomorrow bring me a list of five things that you want to do."

With that she dismissed me for the day.

That evening, Lucille was full of questions about my day. I tried to give and overview but she wanted details. She specifically asked if Betty had "used" me. When I gave an oblique answer, she said, "No you silly goose. Did she use your tongue?" When I hung my head and admitted it she said, "Ooo, you naughty girl. Did she like it?"

"Yes Mistress," I said with a curtsy.

"I hope you're right. I'll be asking her and I'll have to spank you if she didn't."

That evening after I had taken care of Lucille, I had a little time to myself. I made a list of things I'd like to do while dressed.

1. Go to a movie.
2. Go for a walk.
3. Go shopping.
4. Go to lunch.
5. Go to a museum.

Nervously I folded my list into a small square and tucked it into the toe of my shoe. I didn't want Lucille to find that list. Then it struck me that Lucille and Betty were friends and this could be some kind of trap. I'm supposed to be a maid. I made a new list.

1. Serve your every need.
2. Clean house.
3. Do laundry.
4. Do ironing.
5. Hand wash lingerie.

This is the list I'll show Betty. She'll show it to Lucille and Lucille will know that I really want to obey and that I know my place.

The next day, Betty wanted to see my list first thing., so I gave her my second list. She got a disgusted look on her face.

"You did all that yesterday and I could tell it wasn't what you wanted to do. It was what you had to do. Here," she said, "sit here and write a list of things you really want to do."

For a few minutes, I tried to figure a way to play it safe, but in the end, I reached into my bra, where I had hidden my real list. I handed it to her.

"Now, that's more like it. This we can do. Let's go to a movie today." she looked at me smiling. "That outfit won't do. I don't think I'd be comfortable with the attention you'd attract. Do you have anything more... ordinary?"

"Well, yes, I do."

"I don't mean dowdy, I want you dressed sexy, but I want it to be something like I might wear."

"I have a mid calf skirt with a slit up my right thigh. While I'm standing, it's quite conservative, but when I sit... well, I have to wear pantyhose with it because when I wear nylons, my garter tab shows in the top of the slit."

"Oh," she said, "I like it already. Even without seeing it. Only, wear it with nylons. You won't be sitting anywhere, but my car and in the theater. I want to see that garter. Go change and come right back. I'll get ready while you're gone."

I was still unsure that something bad wouldn't happen as a result, but changed anyway. Going out. I've wanted to go out with Lucille, but I never had the nerve to ask her. I'm not sure how this will turn out, but I'm stuck, if I change my mind, I'm in trouble, if I don't, I may be in trouble anyway. Oh well, I might just as well enjoy myself until then.

Back at Betty's she was dressed and waiting. I managed to tell her that I was concerned about going some place where someone might recognize me. She headed way across town to a multiplex theater. We chose a romance and bought tickets. I was scared to death. I'd been out, but never in a confined space like a theater. To spite the fact there were hardly any people at the mid-week matinee.

We arrived in our theater just as the trailers were ending. Making our way up a side isle, it soon became apparent that there weren't many people in there. We sat about a third of the way in on the next to the last row. Most of the audience was made up of single people, but there were a few couples. The nearest to us were two women about three rows in front of us and ten or twelve seats to our right. One was short and slight built and the other was taller and more of medium build with a severe hairstyle, very short and combed back.

It soon became apparent that they were more then just a couple of friends out for a movie. I first really paid attention to them when the bigger one was twisted half around in her seat planting a seriously passionate kiss on the other. It was easy to tell that this was a common practice between them by the way the smaller one was responding. I'm embarrassed to say that I watched them more then I did the movie. Even more so because it turned me on.

Betty noticed them too. When the aggressors head dropped below shoulder level, it didn't take a rocket scientist to know that some bare flesh was involved. Betty leaned over, "I guess no one will notice us if I get a little romantic." And with that, she kissed me. We were both hot with passion. I felt her hand on my exposed garter tab. We necked for about fifteen minutes before she began to caress the inside of my thigh. Oh my God, what a feeling! A few minutes later, she found bare skin and started tracing the edge of my nylon. Soon her thumb started following my garter strap north. With the palm of her hand fully on bare skin, she found the edge of my panties. It didn't take her long to discover just how turned on I was.

"What's this? Lucille said it didn't work anymore," she said exploring its length and girth.

"She just doesn't use it anymore," I whispered huskily.

"Oh," she exclaimed, "you're about to make a mess in your panties. Can't have that. Besides your going to need to get rid of that bulge before the lights come up." With a quick motion, I was exposed. She dropped her head to my lap and relieved the pressure orally. I was so caught up in passion that I just sat glassy eyed while she took care of business.

When she was done she kissed me, pushing her tongue deep into my mouth. Suddenly, I got a mental image of Lucille spread legged on the bed waiting for me to service her with my tongue.

"Let's get straightened away. I want to get you home where I can properly use that thing."

Once we were back at Betty's, she ushered me directly to the bedroom. The next three hours were spent in the wildest sex I've ever had. Even wilder then the Frat parties in college. I think Betty's part nympho.

I was feeling guilty about what we'd done and was paricularlery subservient to Lucille that night. I knew that Lucille had given Betty permission to use me sexually, but I'm sure that she intended for me to satisfy Betty orally, not her me. I don't think Lucille ever intended intercourse. But what could I do now? It had been so long since I had anything but my own devices to take care of that urge, when Betty was interested, I couldn't even think of resisting.

Friday came and Lucille informed me that she would be out for dinner again. She came home early, or was that on time? She'd been late so much, on time may be early.

I helped her dress and went to the kitchen to get myself something to eat. Just then the doorbell rang and Lucille went to answer it. I cracked the pass through bi-fold to get a look at the front door through the dinning room door. It was a man. He looked familiar. He stepped in and swept Lucille in he arms. She pushed him away grinning. "Plenty of time for that later. You'll muss my make up." She got her coat out of the closet and turned her back to him leaving her profile to me. He took her coat and helped her on with it. He also helped himself to a handful of her breasts in each hand. As he nuzzled his neck, she leaned back into him and cooed, "Later my sweet, later. Let's get to dinner." It was obviously not the first time he had touched her that way and it was equally obvious that she enjoyed the touch.

They were gone before I realized who he was. I had never met him, but I had seen him. There had been a pharmaceutical convention in town and of course, Lucille was there representing her company. I had gone to pick her up after one of the evening sessions. I was to meet her in the bar. I was careful to be early, I didn't want her unescorted in a hotel bar. Jim Warnack, Lucille's predecessor, was there. I had met him before, so I killed time by talking to him.

He pointed out this guy. Eddie something. He was at the end of the bar getting very familiar with a thirty-something woman. He had his hand on her bare knee leaning into her and talking intently. Jim told me he was a buyer for a major drug store chain. He also told me that he never assigned a woman to that account because he was a misogynist, a womanizer of the worst kind.

"You see that girl he's feeling up over there?" Jim asked, "Well she's married, but Eddie doesn't care. He's convinced her that if she sleeps with him, she'll get a big sale. So rumor has it, she's been working on getting that sale... Twice already this weekend. What she doesn't know is, he's living with a gal who sells for her competition and she fell for the same line. That's his M. O. Live with one and work on the next one. Oh sure, he buys from them until he gets tired of them. If I had five dollars for every girl who moved in with Eddie after falling for that line, I could retire.

Eddie! It was that Eddie that was and had been taking my wife to dinner and keeping her out to all hours. What's more, she seems to like his advances.

That night, Lucille was home early, around 2:30. I heard the car pull up and a few minutes later the front door. She came down the hall. Near my door, she giggled, then quickly said, "shh." The door to the master bedroom opened and closed.

The headboard of my bed was right against the same wall as the bed in the master bedroom. I could hear everything without trying. She said, "Unzip me." a few minutes later, she got in bed. Then and another person did to. They were noisy. I could hear the bed for a long time, then he grunted like an animal. She pleaded, "Don't stop like you did last time, keep going." A few minutes later, I heard Lucille. I've heard her make that sound many times.

I began to cry. My tears washed away all the guilt I had for enjoying what Betty did with me. I must have slept, because I was awakened about five o'clock by the rhythmic noises of the bed in the next room. I heard him grunt and then the noises stopped. He said, "I'd better get going, or they'll think I'm never coming home." Soon the master bedroom door opened and foot falls echoed down the hall. The front door opened and closed and a car started. I slept fitfully until seven.

I was up and dressed and just pouring my coffee when Lucille rang for me. I quickly poured her coffee and took it to her. She was in last nights lingerie, including stockings. "Set that aside. I need you," she told me, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Last night's lingerie, but no panties I noticed. I knew my duty. I knelt and satisfied her. The salty, musky taste was stronger then ever.

Saturday evening Lucille went out with him again. I saw, from my vantagepoint in the kitchen, he was even more familiar then last night. Lucille's dress that evening daringly exposed all but the nipples of her breast and was indecently short. He took advantage of that by nuzzling her breasts and cupping the cheeks of her ass as he pulled her to him.

"Careful," she said playfully, "or we'll miss our dinner reservation."

"So?"

"So, I'm hungry. If you want me to keep up with you, you have to feed me."

He leered at her a moment. "I want you to keep up."

They were home by 2:30. I was still awake. The most horrible thing I can imagine is laying there listening to my wife having sex with another man. They did it again later. This time around 4:30.

During my next stint serving Betty, I serviced her with a vengeance. I enjoyed myself. I lost count of how often we coupled. She even commented on my passion. For three weeks I watched my wife go out with another man and then heard her bring him back to what should have been our bed only to be required to do her orally when he left. The only way I kept my sanity was by boinking Betty repeatedly, even on the afternoons when I wasn't supposed to be there. I had learned just which buttons to push so she would want me.

Saturday morning of the fourth week, I hadn't heard Eddie leave, I got up at my usual time. I was in the kitchen when Lucille rang. The coffee wasn't even done. Attired in my black satin maid's uniform, I opened the door expecting to find her needing her customary service after he left her unsatisfied. "He" was still there, openly sucking on her nipple. He looked up as I entered he leered first at my legs, then my cleavage.

"Lynn," Lucille said, "bring us two coffees as soon as it's done. Eddie takes his black. Then we'd like scrambled eggs and ham for breakfast. You can serve it in here."

"Yes'm," I curtsied.

How dare she? Isn't it bad enough she brings him home? But now she has him there, nude, in bed with her!

I did as I was told. I noticed that Eddie sat up to get a better look at my boobs as I leaned over to hand him his coffee. Lucille noticed too and just giggled at my discomfort. When I cleared away the breakfast Eddie was in the bathroom.

"Lynn," Lucille said, pleadingly, "you know I love you, but sometimes a woman just needs a man. You understand, don't you? I'm sure you've felt the same thing."

"Yes'm," I said looking at the floor. Not likely, not in this lifetime.

Leaving the bedroom, my hands were too full to close the door properly. As I was tidying up the kitchen, I heard the tell tale noise of the bed echoing down the hall, followed by a masculine grunt. This guy's some kind of animal.

Shortly, Eddie passed by the kitchen on his way to the front door, pausing long enough to leer at me as he tucked in his shirt. It made my flesh crawl. His car had no more started when Lucille rang.

"Eddie's such a man," she said as if it were an affliction as I came in, "he left me in need."

I knew it fell to my talented tongue to finish what he had started. It took everything I had to fulfill my duty because I could see the physical evidence of him violating her just inside. When I was through she smiled at me and said, "if you're nice to him, I'm sure that Eddie would let you have that first hand." As I wipe something sticky from my chin. "I know he liked it when that was all I did for him. It kind of tastes good doesn't it."

Now there was a thought that brought me up short! Lucille assumed that I'd like to go down on Eddie!

The next three weeks were nearly reruns of that one and then Eddie moved in. Lucille and Eddie were living together and I was the full time maid. I began spending everyday after my housework was done with Betty. I even started doing my business from her computer. I cried a lot on Betty's shoulder. She thought my being a maid for Lucille was supposed to be a game and was very sympathetic. When it became apparent that I was doing all my business from her house and that her computer was not really powerful enough to do it properly, Betty suggested I bring my computer over to her house. So I did and I transferred my DSL line to her phone line. As plus for her, I set her computer up to use it too. Betty became my assistant because with both Lucille and Eddie making demands on my time all weekend, I couldn't process my orders properly.

Mean while, Betty and I became closer. Our steamy, hot, lust filled coupling took on a romantic flavor. She began surprising me with small gifts and I reciprocated. Often we would spend afternoons watching old movies on her DVD player. Our outings included walks in the park and romantic lunches in quaint little restaurants. All of the distinctive things that had made my relationship with Lucille special found their way into my relationship with Betty.

At home things went form bad to worse. Eddie became very forward with his lust toward me. He was aware that Lucille used me orally and seemed to delight in it. All the while, I assumed he knew I was really Lucille's husband and that would calm him down, but it didn't seem to. "Maybe he's like that guy, Mike who tried to pick me up in trans chat room. He could swing either way and liked T*girls." I thought. Lucille let it slip one day that she allowed Eddie to think I was a real woman.

I thought I could live with that until Eddie began to sneak his hand under my skirt to fondle my butt. I wasn't about to put up with that. I knew how to cool him off. I don't know why, but when I went off the pills, which Lucille was still providing, I saved them instead of simply throwing them a way. That very evening I pulverized a double dose and put them in his after dinner drink. In the morning, another such dose went in his coffee. At last I found a use for all those pills. It took about two weeks for him to show the first symptom. He was suffering from morning sickness. I remembered that. I thought it was the flu. I encouraged him to think that too. After a month he became irritable and was subject to mood swings. I even caught him crying. It had the desired effect, he no longer looked at me with lust. I kept up his double dose until I had nearly used up my backlog. By then there were some noticeable changes in Eddie. Oh he kept up his macho attitude, but he was getting fat in some unusual places. His butt grew and his once muscular chest became flabby. I saw him in a T-shirt and noticed he had the same enlarged nipples I had. The best change was that I was rarely awakened by the noisy bed in the next room. His chest began to enlarge so he started to wear bulky clothing.

One day, I caught him staring out the window at a shirtless road worker repairing the roadway in front of our house. There was no mistaking that look, I'd seen women look at men that way. When Eddie noticed I was watching him he blushed and girlishly trotted to the bedroom.

About a month later, Lucille announced that, as sales manager, she would be going out of town to head up a team to open a new territory. She was to be gone ninety days. "Lynn," she said, "while I'm gone it'll be up to you to take care of Eddie. But don't get to use to having him all to yourself. I'll need him when I come back." Her wicked grin told me that she fully expected me to satisfy Eddie's sexual needs while she was gone. I think she thought I was already doing Eddie since he wasn't doing her as often. Eddie just listened. Later when we were alone, she was more explicit. She made it plain that if Eddie strayed to other women while she was gone, she would hold me responsible.

After she left, Eddie cried. When he noticed me looking at him he spoke. "I suppose you think I'm crying because she's gone. Well I'm not. I'm crying because I'm feeling guilty because I'm relived she's gone. I don't know what's happening to me, but my sex drive has just about died and what's left has taken a weird turn. I've always been straight all my life, but now I'm noticing how sexy some men are."

"Oh, really?" I asked, "Have there been any other changes?"

"Yeah, look at this," he said, pulling up his shirt. There on his chest, where muscular pecs should have been, was a set of well formed small breasts.

"Oh wow," I said in mock surprise. "You should be wearing a bra." That did it Eddie burst into tears again. "You know, it's not the first time I've seen this. I thought she just had something against me. But it must be all men."

"What do you mean?" he asked looking up.

"Well, she managed to slip hormones in on me and turned me into a woman. When she brought you home, I thought you were my replacement, but it looks like you were just another victim."

"You... you're not really a woman?"

"I didn't used to be... I guess now, you'd have to say that I'm a she-male. I look and feel like a woman, but I still have male genitalia," I spoke in solemn tones. "It'll cost thousands of dollars to have them removed. I don't know if I'll ever be able to afford it."

"Have them removed!"

"Well, yeah. I went to the doctor and he told me that once the breast development starts all your male equipment is useless. You might as well have it cut off," I lied. "It's your only hope of having any kind of normal life. If a man living as a woman could be normal."

"No, you're lying. You were never a man."

"Look, if you don't believe me," I said pulling up my skirt and panties down. He stared at me in disbelief until I covered up.

"But your boobs are real?"

"As real as they come," I said pulling at my top and popping them out.

"Oh my God, what am I going to do?"

"I'd say you should learn to be a woman and get used to living as one."

"There's no hope of ever becoming a man again."

"Not according to my doctor. The development of breasts comes after you become chemically castrated. Even if you stop what she's started, the best you can hope for is somewhere in between a man and a woman."

He began to cry. After a time, he looked up. "Will you help me?"

"Sure the first thing we should do is get you dressed properly."

I took him back to my room and put him into some of my clothes. After an hour of working on his make up and working with his shortish hair, I had him looking quite feminine. After that I worked on teaching him feminine mannerisms and softening his voice.

After a week or two of this kind of training I coaxed him out. By the end of the first month, he was shopping with me and going to bars. Then I got sneaky. I contacted Mike from the Internet. I told him I'd like to set him up with my girlfriend who liked men, but was shy. Mike was agreeable to pretend we were old friends and just bumped into each other. Before this, Eddie and I had only been to straight bars. He had enjoyed the men there checking us out. In order to carry out my plan, I had to pretend to enjoy it as well. I arranged to meet Mike at a low-key gay bar. I made sure that Mike would be there before us and that I had looked at his picture recently. Of course, I was sure to send him Eddie's picture and made sure that Eddie wore the same outfit as in the picture.

I recognized Mike as soon as we walked in. "Mike!" I nearly shouted. I haven't seen you in an age. What have you been up to?"

"Oh pretty much the same as always. Who's your lovely friend?" he asked, eyeing Eddie.

"Oh, where are my manners. Mike, this is my good friend Edie. Edie this is my dear old friend Mike."

"Nice to meet you Edie," Mike said standing. I'd seen Mikes picture, but it didn't do him justice. He was every inch of tall, dark and handsome. Eddie blushed when Mike took his hand and kissed it. "Sit down ladies, let me buy you a drink."

I didn't hesitate. I sat right down. Eddie didn't have much choice. Mike began romancing him right off. It took two drinks before Eddie loosened up and began to talk. I quietly let the waiter know that he should make the rest of my Cube de Libra's straight coke with a twist and should make Eddie's all doubles in place of the alcohol in mine. Soon Eddie was feeling no pain and Mike was fondling his exposed thigh. When Mike excused himself to go to the restroom, I got Eddie to admit that Mike was good looking and he was attracted to Mike.

A little later, I took our pretzel bowl to the bar to exchange it for a full one. I purposely stayed gone longer then I needed to. As I hoped, Mike made his move on Eddie. When I came back to the table, Mike had Eddie in a lip-lock that made them look like Siamese twins joined at the lips. One hand was at the back of Eddie's head and the other was buried up to the wrist in Eddie's blouse.

When they came up for air, Eddie was all dreamy eyed and cuddled into Mike. "You guys need to get a room," I teased.

Mike said, "That's a good idea. My place isn't far from here and the booze is cheaper, what say we make tracks?"

"Fine by me," I said. "Edie, you ride with Mike and I'll follow."

- Oh, dear, we got separated in traffic. -

The next day, I got a call from Eddie. "Lynn, what happened to you last night?

"I'm sorry, we got separated in traffic and I couldn't find Mike's place. He's moved since we were close. Are you alright?"

"I'm not sure, can you come get me?"

When I got there Eddie had obviously been necking with Mike. He blushed and went to the bathroom to freshen his make up. Mike and I made small talk during which he let me know that he was quite taken with Edie and wanted to see her again.

As we left, Mike gave Eddie a kiss and said, "I'll call you later."

Eddie didn't say anything on the way home. I puttered around the kitchen putting together a late lunch. As we sat down to eat Eddie began to cry softly he looked up at me. "Lynn, how do you do it? I mean you're in the same boat I am, but you're confident and happy."

"Well, I wasn't always. When I found out the results of taking the hormones that Lucille some how tricked me into taking, I was panicked. I cried a lot. You may remember when you first moved in here and my wife took you to her bed, I was very depressed."

"Oh yeah, but In the last few months you really pulled it together. What did you do?"

"I decided to make the best of it and quit fighting it. Lucille doesn't know it, but I've found a special person who loves me just as I am. That's been very important in my development. Aside from that, I decided that, essentially, I'm the still the same person and I took control of my new life."

"A special person, kind of like Mike?"

"Kind of."

"How did you take control?"

"I sat myself up to function in my new gender. I can still make a living just like I did before."

"Can I do that?" he asked.

"Sure, I can help."

"What can I do about Mike?

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know, he want's to take me out to dinner tonight."

"Are you going to go?"

"I'd like to, but I'm afraid he'll want a repeat of last night."

"Would that be bad?"

"I don't know. I'm so confused. I shouldn't like what happened, but I did. Some how I felt complete when I satisfied him orally."

"I know what you mean. I'd say you should explore your feeling to the full extent."

"OK, I'll do that," he said with a new confidence in his voice. Eddie strode to the phone and dialed. "Mike? Edie. If you still want to take me out tonight I'm free... fine, I'll see you at seven."

Well, to make a long story short, Eddie and Mike became regulars at a number of clubs around town. The kind places I'd never go. In the third week, Mike began spending the night. Once again, I was awakened to sounds in the next bedroom. I moved in with Betty and filed for divorce. By the time Lucille was due back Mike was living with Eddie.

Being a little sadistic, I kept it from Eddie the exact time of her arrival, but I knew almost to the minute. I had a process server standing by. Things couldn't have worked out better. Lucille took a cab from the airport and arrived about fifteen minutes after Mike took Eddie to bed for a little early fun and games. I was in my maid's uniform for the first time since Lucille left. The cab driver pulled into the driveway and Lucille let herself in.

"Hi Lynn, it's so good to be home where's Eddie?"

"He's in the bedroom. I think he's horny."

"Didn't you see to his sexual needs while I was gone?"

"Yes, but I think he wants something I can't give him."

She grinned, "I'll just have to take care of that, won't I? I'm ready. Be a dear and get my bags from the cabby," she said, unbuttoning her blouse as she walked down the hall. I opened the door and went straight to Betty's, signaling the process server. Betty and I watched through the window as Lucille came storming out the door clutching her blouse and nearly knocked the process server over. The exchange wasn't pleasant

The cab driver confronted Lucille about the bags and he ended up dumping her bags on the curb.

The divorce was anything but amicable. I had done my homework, my business was firmly in my name, as was all the income from it and one of our cars.

When the dust settled, I gave up my interest in the house and she took over the payments. Betty and I lived together until the divorce was final and got married.

It seems Mike was bi-sexual and soon wormed his way into Lucille's bed. Eddie took over my role as maid. About six months later I spoke with him. He complained about Lucille monopolizing Mike's time and expressed a desire for revenge. I gave him the URL of an online pharmacy where he could get hormones for Mike.

Epilogue:

Betty and I have been married for eight years and are expecting. Lucille is very successful and she needs to be to afford her two sissy maids.
TG crossdressing deals-bets-dares hormones Rated-R

Notes:

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