Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an222260@anon.penet.fi (Tristmegistus)
Date: Sat,  5 Aug 1995 16:28:54 UTC
Subject:       Tristmegistus: The Surpise Vacation 1/10 (TG+)



Heya, dudes and dudettes.  Here's a bit of nastiness dealing with 
forced feminization, etc., and so on.  Chapters One and maybe Two
began life as someone else's work.  Wish I knew who (s)he was.  I 
found them on a local BBS a couple of years ago and was hammered 
by the idea - but the damned thing ended before much of interest 
happened.  I believe I've fixed that - but you be the judge.

As always, I'll utterly ignore any posting to this group requesting reposts.  
If you want to e-mail me with comments, I'll welcome them, even send you 
the file direct, if I have time - but don't offend all the other readers with 
your insipid, thoughtless, inconsiderate, unwelcome public nattering.  
Clear enough?


Originally
***From FEMINET, Felton CA 408-335-4387 or 408-335-7888

     The Surprise Vacation 
     
     CHAPTER ONE -  INNOCENT BEGINNINGS 
 
     "Did you take your vitamin, dear?" Ellen called from the
bathroom.
     I rubbed sleep from my eyes and picked up the pill bottle,
rolling a big tablet into my palm.  "My horse pill?  I'm doing it
now."
     "Have you noticed any difference yet?"
     "Nah.  Vitamins are pretty much all alike."  She'd gone on a
minor health kick a month before, insisting that I needed to lose
a little weight and take better care of myself.  I hadn't
actually made it to the gym to work out like she was though.
     "Where's my underwear honey?" I asked my wife, poking
through my almost empty drawer.  It was Saturday morning.  I had
noticed that my underwear had been disappearing from my drawer
over the last couple of weeks.  I thought nothing of it, figuring
that she'd simply been too busy to do laundry. 
     "Something went wrong with the washing machine and it ruined
everything in the last load," she said. 
     "Well, what am I going to wear?" 
     She emerged from the bathroom, dipped into her side of the
dresser.  "Here, put these on," she smiled, handing me a pair of
her pink satin panties. "Now don't give me any fake macho
bullshit.  I know you love wearing my panties.  In fact, I know
you've secretly worn this very pair before." 
     I looked at her dumfounded.  I thought that I'd successfully
hidden my fetish from her.  I'd been so careful. 
     "C'mon, let's put these on you,"she teased.  I was beet red
as I numbly stepped into them and let her pull them up to my
hips.  She stroked my cock through the fabric, a lot like I often
did.  "Mmmm, I see that someone finds this exiting.  We may have
to keep it like that."  I wasn't sure what she meant by that
remark, but was too embarrassed to ask.  I hurriedly put the rest
of my clothes on, jeans and a T-shirt.  She gave me a slightly
disapproving look and said, "Well, I need take you shopping and
get some new underwear for you, among other things."
      I said, "Can't you just pick up some for me?  I want to
look at that washing machine and watch the football game." 
     Since she absolutely despises football, this would normally 
have set her off on a tirade, but surprisingly, she just smiled 
sweetly and said, "Don't worry about the washer.  I fixed it
myself.  Go ahead and enjoy your football honey.  I'll get
everything you need."
     So while she was shopping, I lay on the couch stroking
myself through the panties, embarrassed that my wife knew of my
fetish, but relieved that she seemed so low key about it.  The
game turned out to be pretty boring and I thought about raiding
her closet for something else to wear, but now that she knew, I
couldn't bring myself to do it.  Instead, I ended up taking a
nap.  I woke up when she came home, loaded with bags from various
stores.  I started to get up to help.
     "Just stay there, I'll put everything away.  What do you say
that we go out for dinner?" 
     "That sounds like a good idea." 
     "Great.  But first, I have a surprise for you.  Stand up and
close your eyes."  I remembered that teasing look, that
flirtatious tone.
     We hadn't played sex games in a long time.  In fact, we
hadn't done anything sexual in a long time.  With a smile, I
stood and did as she asked.  The next thing I knew, she pulled my
hands behind my back and locked them with a pair of handcuffs! 
     "What's this all about?" 
     "No comments from the peanut gallery," she said as she 
put some sort of gag in my mouth. 
     Whatever it was filled up my whole mouth, all the way to the
top of my throat!  As I explored it with my tongue, I realized
that it was a penis gag.  What was going on? 
     "Now come along peacefully, or I'll have to take further 
steps."  With that I followed her into the bathroom.  She took my
hands and tied a strap to them and pulled it up to the shower 
curtain, forcing me to bend over at the waist.  She then took a 
pair of scissors and proceeded to cut my clothes off, ruining
jeans I could have just stepped out of.  It was all pretty kinky,
even for Ellen's sometimes bizarre moods, but except for the
embarrassment of having something shaped like a penis in my
mouth, it seemed harmless. 
     "You won't be needing those anymore," she said, tossing the
rags that had been my jeans and tee-shirt down the laundry chute. 
     She then took some shaving cream and a razor and proceeded 
to shave every bit of hair below my eyebrows.  I definitely
didn't like the turn things were taking, but fighting her while
she stroked my most private parts didn't seem like a good idea -
and there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it, anyway.
     "I think that since you like wearing panties so much, you
should have the experience of everything else that goes along
with it," she explained as she worked over my underarms.  "You'll
find that all of your old clothes have been replaced with
something more suitable for your new station.  I think that about
does it.  Step in the shower and let's rinse you off." 
     There was nothing I could do except slide the strap down the
bar and step under the water.  I was bewildered.  Surely she
hadn't really thrown out all my clothes!  As she rinsed all of
the hairy soap off of my body, my skin felt strange, tingly and
oddly alive.  She spent more time on my weirdly naked penis,
making it swell again.  She patted me dry all over with a big,
soft towel and spread skin conditioner all over me, dwelling on
my semi-hard penis.
     "Well that looks much better, but we'll have to do something
about your figure.  That waistline will never do.  You haven't
been losing enough weight, darling.  Follow me and we'll take
care of it." 
     As we walked into the bedroom, I saw some clothes laid out 
on the bed.  There was a corset, panties, stockings, and a short
dress.  She began to put the corset on me, and said, "Your arms
are in the way."  With that, she reached into one of the bags and
pulled out a leather collar.  She then put some leather cuffs on
my wrists, unlocked the metal ones, and quickly hooked my hands
behind my head to the collar. 
     This was starting to get too weird.  Our sex games had died
out a year or so before.  I'd known she was curious about bondage
and stuff, but had laid down the law and said no.  I tried to
talk around the thing in my mouth, but she ignored me.  I was
able to offer only token resistance as my arms were asleep and
numb from being pulled up and back for so long.  Next, she
started hooking up the corset and pulling the laces in behind me.
Soon I couldn't breathe and still she was tightening the laces. 
     "Is that uncomfortable?  Too bad.  It'll give you incentive
to lose that extra weight you've been ignoring, won't it?"  With
a final savage jerk, she finished adjusting the laces with a full
knot.  "I think you'll have an interesting time trying to untie
that by yourself."
     I silently agreed.  It was more like being in a straight
jacket than lingerie.  But there was an illicit thrill to it,
despite my deepening worry that she was going way too far with
her fun.
     "Now let's put some panties on you.  Which pair would you 
like?  You don't care?  That's no way for a lady to show interest
in her appearance.  I guess we'll try this new pair of pink satin
ones I bought you.  Now you don't have to steal mine, love.  Oh,
my!  You really look cute in them."
     Next came a set of latex breast forms which she teasingly
placed in the corset's half cups to fill out my chest.  After
that she rolled some stockings up each leg, hooked them to the
garters on the corset, and smoothed them out.  She quickly
admired her work while I tried not to, too embarrassed for words,
even if the gag hadn't been in my mouth. 
     "Let's see how this dress I picked out for you fits."  With 
that she picked up a shimmery peach colored dress and worked it 
over the tangle of my head and arms.  As it fell over my breasts
and hips it came down to only mid-thigh.
     She looked at me with a grin on her face and said, "Don't
you look adorable!  You'll have to be very careful and ladylike
when you sit or bend over or the world will see your garters and
panties.  Only a slut would act like that.  If you act like a
slut, I'll have to treat you like one." 
     What did she mean by 'the world will see you?' I didn't like
the implications in that statement. 
     "Step into these shoes," she said with the air of command,
as she placed a pair of matching peach shoes with about a 3-1/2
in heel on the floor.
     I'd rarely dared to play with her high heels.  They were a
little too tight, but the real reason I usually avoided them was
because they awoke in me a shame powerful enough to
counterbalance the excitement of cross dressing.  I found it was
tremendously difficult to keep my balance with my hands fastened
behind my neck. 
     "Now it's time for your makeup.  I'm going to remove the
gag, but I don't want to hear a single word or I'll put it back
in and leave it there for a whole day."  Ellen gave me a look
that indicated she clearly meant it.
     Well, I figured, we've gone this far, so why fight it. 
Besides, cosmetics were another thing I'd never had the guts to
try, and I'd often fantasized about how I'd look.  She spent the
next thirty minutes completing my makeup, going through founda-
tion, eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara, adding a light blush, and
finishing with a bright, deep rose lipstick.  She topped it off
with a light brown shoulder length wig. 
     "Now you can look at yourself," she said as she led me to a 
mirror. 
     I couldn't believe it!  A beautiful girl looked back at me. 
If she was alone in a bar, every guy in there would hit on her. 
The dress had a scooped front almost to my breast forms, which
were ample.  It also showed a very flattering figure.  No wonder
I couldn't breathe.  Looking at the reflection in the mirror, the
hemline seemed even shorter, at least six inches above my knees.
     I heard a soft "click."  I turned around, and my wife was
taking pictures of me! 
     "You can't admire yourself all day, sweetie. We've got a
busy afternoon and evening ahead of us."
     My heart sank.  She was really going to force me to go out
dressed like this!  I started to speak, wanting to talk her out
of it, but she picked up the cock-shaped gag and moved ominously
toward me.  I shut up.  With that, my wife changed into a plain
dress and fluffed her hair, not even bothering to use any makeup
on herself, which was unusual.  She noted my confusion and said,
"I don't want to steal any of the attention you deserve, honey." 
     She clipped a leash to my collar and led me to the garage.
As she opened the passenger door, I began to fight her. "Honey
what are you trying to -"
     She pushed me off balance, which wasn't hard, and stuffed
the gag back in my mouth, immediately strapped it behind my head. 
    "I warned you!  Now you'll have to pay the price for disobe-
dience!"  She pushed me again and I fell into the passenger seat. 
She buckled the seat belt.  Bound as I was, with my hands behind
my head, there was no way I could do anything but go along. 
      As she drove us away, she said, "I know you're dying of
curiosity, sweetie, wondering what this is all about.  It's
simple really.  I noticed about six months ago that my clothes
and lingerie had been rearranged almost every time you're home
and I'm not.  I started carefully marking my hangers and drawers
to confirm my suspicions, and I can name every time you snuck
into something sexy and even tell you what you wore.  Really, I
don't mind, honey.  In fact, it really turns me on.  So I'm going
to make sure that you live your fantasy to the fullest.  It's
really perfect, because MY fantasy is to dominate my husband
completely and I'm going to act that out, too."
     I couldn't believe it!  She must have caught on almost the
very first time I gave in to the impulse to see if silky feminine
clothes felt as wonderful as they looked.  Well, the first time
since I was a kid, anyway.
     "I've arranged for you to take a two week surprise vacation
starting Monday.  Your boss thinks that we're going on a cruise." 
She giggled.  "In a way, we are, aren't we?  For the next two
weeks, you're going to live entirely as a female and follow my
every command.  If you give me any shit at all, I'll send those
pictures of you admiring yourself to your boss and secretary.  I
think they'd get a good laugh from them, don't you?  To get you
ready for our little adventure, we're going to the mall to do
some shopping for your vacation."
     I kept hoping it was all a joke.  That any moment she'd turn
the car around, laughing at how she'd scared me, and we'd play
for a while in bed, then it'd be over.  But my guts were cold.  I
couldn't talk myself into believing it'd happen that way.  I knew
she was dead serious.
     As we pulled into the mall parking lot she said, "In case 
you're having any thoughts about running away, remember that you
don't have any car keys, wallet or money. If you don't do exactly
as I say, I'll leave you here to get back on your own." 
     She was right!  Trying to get home without her, dressed like
this, wasn't an option.  I couldn't even think of hitchhiking. 
Cold sweat popped out on my brow as I realized that I was stuck. 
I had to do what she said.  I didn't even want to think of what
her plans were.

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an222260@anon.penet.fi (Tristmegistus)
Date: Sat,  5 Aug 1995 16:28:28 UTC
Subject:       Tristmegistus: The Surprise Vacation 2/10 (TG+)


Heya, dudes and dudettes.  Here's a bit of nastiness dealing with 
forced feminization, etc., and so on.  Chapters One and maybe Two
began life as someone else's work.  Wish I knew who (s)he was.  I 
found them on a local BBS a couple of years ago and was hammered 
by the idea - but the damned thing ended before much of interest 
happened.  I believe I've fixed that - but you be the judge.

As always, I'll utterly ignore any posting to this group requesting reposts.  
If you want to e-mail me with comments, I'll welcome them, even send you 
the file direct, if I have time - but don't offend all the other readers with 
your insipid, thoughtless, inconsiderate, unwelcome public nattering.  
Clear enough?



     CHAPTER TWO - THE MALL 
 
     I was terrified.  There I was, tied into my car seat,
dressed as a woman from high heels to wig, with my wrists
handcuffed to a leather collar around my neck, for all the world
to see.  And my wife had driven me to the shopping mall to shop
for clothes to complete my wardrobe.  I wanted to cry out in
frustration and terror, but there was a penis-shaped gag buried
in my throat.  The excitement I'd felt at home was long gone.
     After she stopped the car in the parking lot, she turned to 
me and unlocked the collar, cuffs, and removed the gag from my 
mouth.  "Now, can I trust you to behave in here, or will I have
to really embarrass you?  And by behave I mean do everything I
say without question." 
     With a numb feeling in my stomach I said, "Yes honey, I'll 
be good." 
     "Wonderful!  I know we're going to have a marvelous time."
     With that, she made me fix the lipstick the gag had smeared,
and showed me how to powder my sweaty forehead.  We got out of
the car and walked into the mall.  The heels caused my hips to
sway noticeably.  I did my best to minimize it.
     She looked at me with a grin and said, "My, aren't we
calling attention to ourselves!" and laughed merrily.  "Our first
stop is at the beauty parlor.  We don't have that much time, so
today we'll just touch up your makeup and do your nails.  Your
hair can wait until tomorrow.  I've already made an appointment
for you." 
     The voyage through the crowded mall was tremendously
humiliating.  I kept waiting for someone to recognize me, or see
through the disguise my wife had applied and sneer at a man in a
short dress and makeup.  It was almost a relief to near the
beauty shop.  While I didn't draw any of the disgusted looks I
was afraid of, I got way too much attention, and the appreciative
smiles were almost worse than mockery would have been. 
     We walked into the parlor, and she talked to the
receptionist.  "Hello.  I called earlier for a 'special
appointment' for Sheila." 
     A pretty brunette overheard and approached.  "Hi!  I'm Cindy
and everything is ready.  Follow me please."  She led us past the
filled stations into a back room.  "Please have a seat here."  I
looked at the chair and then my wife with some misgivings.
     "SIT DOWN!  You heard what the lady said!" my wife commanded
and shoved me into the chair.  Before I could recover, she pulled
two velcro lined straps out of her purse and quickly strapped my 
arms to the armrests, rendering me completely helpless.  "Now sit
there quietly, or I'll have to take further steps." 
     The stylist was trying, though not very hard, to cover a big
smirk on her face.
     "Go ahead and start on her. I don't think she'll give you
any trouble.  How long do you think this will take?" 
     "For everything you asked for, about an hour and a half." 
     "Good, I'll be back then.  I've got some shopping to do.  If
she gives you any trouble, feel free to take whatever action you
think is appropriate."  She then walked out of the store, leaving
me alone with the stylist.  
     "You aren't going to make any trouble, are you?" she teased.
     I shook my head no, not trusting my voice.  Sounding like a
man would've been too embarrassing, and I'd feel like a fool if I
tried a false woman's voice.
     "Too bad.  I think I'd enjoy disciplining and humiliating
you.  You're obviously into it.  Maybe I should see if my
boyfriend would look as good as you do dressed up."
     That definitely made me decide not to resist - as if I could
have anyway.  I did my best to ignore her flattery, too.  The
last thing I wanted to do was look too much like a woman.
     "Debbie here is going to do your nails, and I'll be giving
you a light makeover.  You're lady friend made a separate
appointment for your hair for tomorrow."  She turned her
attention to my face and began working me over as Debbie began my
nails.
     Sixty minutes later, she was still working on my face, and 
Debbie had mockingly told me to remove my hose so she could do my
toenails.  The bands around my wrists made that impossible, of
course, and I cringed as the girl touched me and did it herself. 
I kept my eyes closed, unable to face the changes being made to
me.  The worst part was having my eyebrows plucked into shape. 
How could I hide that when the "vacation" was over?
     "This is a 'light' makeover?" I wondered to Cindy in a safe
whisper, trying to joke. "How long does it take for a complete
job?"  I really didn't want to know. 
     At that moment my wife walked in with a shopping bag.  "How 
are we coming?  Oh, she looks just darling!" she said as she
grinned at me.  She then bent over and admired my bright red
toenails.  Confirming that Debbie was finished, she rolled my
hose part way up and began digging through a huge shopping bag. 
     "What are you doing, honey?" I asked in a meek, gender
neutral voice. 
     "Oh, I didn't think that those shoes were flattering enough,
so I dropped into the Wild Pair to find you something prettier. I
know you're just dying to wear them, but with that corset on I
don't imagine you can bend over far enough to strap them on." 
     That was an understatement!  While I'd gotten used to taking
shallow breaths in the corset, there was no way I could bend that
far down. I couldn't see what the shoes looked like from the
angle I was sitting in the chair, but I could tell they had a
much higher heel than the other set. 
     "There!" Cindy announced proudly.  "That about finishes you. 
How are you coming, Debbie?" 
     "Just a few minutes to let the last coat dry."  After about
five very uncomfortable minutes of listening to girl talk, she
said, "That about does it.  Let's stand up and have a look at
you." 
     My wife then removed the velcro straps, freeing me from the 
chair.  I stood up and almost fell.  I looked down at my shoes. 
They were a pair of cream ankle straps with at least a five inch
heel.  I could barely stand in them.  It was amazing what a
difference an inch and a half made.  I then looked in the mirror,
for the first time, and almost didn't recognize myself.  The
person standing there was a short, truly beautiful, entirely
feminine woman staring back at me with wide, shocked, expertly
made up eyes!  Her skin looked perfectly smooth and her lips were
strikingly highlighted. 
     I reflexively raised my hands to my face, not believing what
I was seeing, and then noticed my nails.  One full inch long and
a deep liquid red - exactly the color of my skillfully painted
lips and toes.
     My wife smiled approvingly at me and said, "Don't they look
lovely, Sheila?" 
     "Y . . . Yes," I stammered, too shocked to lie.  "They're
beautiful. I can't believe it!" 
     As she paid Cindy and we turned to go, she said, "By the
way, I asked her to use a permanent set on the nails.  You won't
be able to remove them."
     I looked down at my hands in shock.  How could you hide
nails like that?  What would I do at the end of the two weeks?  I
knew enough about it to realize that even if I cut them off,
they'd be unnaturally thick.
     "Let's go, Sheila, we've got plenty still to do.  Now it's
time for some clothes shopping.  With a gorgeous bod and sexy
face like you have, we have to get you some 'hot' outfits to
match."
     I slowly emerged from my state of shock, and wished I
hadn't.  I was drawing even more attention now.  The way men were
staring at me left no doubt as to their thoughts.  I stayed as
close to Ellen as I could as she slowly toured store fronts.
     Our first stop was "The Body Shop."  My wife had me try on 
countless outfits in the dressing room.  It was sheer torture,
climbing into and out of one revealing outfit after another.  I
was horrified of being recognized and arrested for this
perversion.  She ended up picking out a short black leather skirt
with matching bustier, and a white satin minidress with a deeply
scooped neckline.  Then she made me pay for the items with my
American Express Card - with my real name on it!  The sales 
clerk gave me a shocked look and then a big smirk.  My face
turned beet red from embarrassment.  My slim hand shook as I
tried to grip the pen and sign the sales slip with my too long
nails.
     We went from store to store for about two more endless
hours.  I must have tried on forty outfits and purchased at least
a dozen.  My ribs were killing me from the constant pressure of
the corset and my feet ached from walking and standing in those
incredible heels. 
     "Here we go.  One last stop," my wife said as we turned into
another boutique. "Why don't you have a seat for a couple of
minutes." 
     She didn't have to tell me twice.  I was exhausted.  I sat
in the chair she indicated, relieved to get a load off of my
feet.  I carefully smoothed my hemline as I sat down (I'd learned
this lesson the hard way through some embarrassing comments and
looks from other shoppers).  I was so tired, I didn't know what
store I was in, and really didn't care.  I let my eyes close.  
     One of the clerks came up behind me and said, "Just sit 
still now."  There was a sudden, intense burning sensation in my
right ear.  My eyes leapt open, and I tried to get up.  She held
my head firmly with one hand and said, "Just a few seconds.  Hold
still."  The sharp pain was repeated in the other ear.  She then
rubbed both with some alcohol and fiddled with each ear for a few
seconds. "There, that does it.  You can get up now."
     I stood up and looked in the mirror.  She had pierced my
ears and placed a little gold ball in each of them!  What would I
do at the at the end of two weeks?  Those holes in my ears were
going to take a long time to heal over. 
     "Okay, that finishes us here.  It's time for us to go home
and get ready to go out tonight."
     With that, we walked back towards the car - slowly, because
I was forced to take such mincing steps in the tall shoes. 
     As we got into the car I turned and said, "Honey, this is 
ridiculous.  Look at my hands!  I can't -"  
     She slapped me hard on the cheek, staggering me.  She
immediately pulled out a pair of handcuffs, put them on me, and
secured them behind me to the headrest, making me completely
helpless.
     "I can see that you need a lesson to show you that I mean
business. When I'm finished with you, you're going to beg me to
dress you up, take you out, and make you look as pretty and sexy
as possible!  We both know that you've secretly dreamed about
this.  Well it's happening and there's not a damned thing you can
do to stop it!  The sooner you realize that you're no longer in
control of what happens to you, the happier you'll be!" 
     "But honey," I whined, "don't you think that this's a little
-" 
     She rammed the gag back in my mouth.  "What were you saying
dear?  I didn't catch it?  Oh well, I guess it wasn't very
important."
     We pulled away from the mall with me helpless in the
passenger seat, thankful that the tinted windows offered me a
little protection from casual observation. 
     As I began to look around me I realized that this was not
the way home.  Where was she taking me now?
     She noticed me squirming and looking around and said, "Don't
know where we're going?  Well, as much as you deserve to be
humiliated more in public, that'll have to wait.  I just have to
pick something up." 
     My relief quickly turned to chagrin as we stopped and I
looked at where we were.  It was a shop entitled "Exotic Leather 
Goods." 
     "I need to grab a few things to ensure that you learn your
lesson properly.  Don't do anything naughty while I'm gone."     
     So there I was, tied into the passenger seat for any passers
by to see, trapped in a feminine appearance and clothing with an
artificial penis filling my mouth.  Now that we'd stopped, the
tinted windows weren't nearly dark enough. 
     Suddenly, I saw a man approaching, walking towards the 
car.  He was casually looking at each of them as he passed by.  
Would he notice me through the window?  My heart was racing a
mile a minute.  Just as it looked as if he would pass right by,
he stopped and did a double take.  HE SAW ME!  He stood there
looking in the window for at least a full minute with a big grin
on his face while I tried to become invisible.  Just about that
time my wife came up to the car with a bag in her hand. 
     "Enjoying the view?" she casually asked the man. 
     "Sure am, honey," he replied with a leer.  "Do you always
keep her tied up like that?"  He thought I was a real woman! 
     "She prefers it that way," my wife laughed.  "She's my
display model.  Feel free to look all you want, but don't touch."
     The man kept up his lewd stare while Ellen loaded her
purchases.  He waved gaily, still laughing, as he walked away. 
With that she got in started the car.  As she drove us home, she
said, "I was planning to take you out for a nice dinner and
dancing tonight, but you obviously don't deserve a reward like
that yet.  So, instead I'm going to teach you a lesson in
obedience.  When I'm through with you, you'll beg me to dress you
up in sexy outfits so you can show off." 
     Brother, was I in trouble.  I was afraid to even think of
what my "lesson" would be.  I was sure that it would not be
pleasant, but I knew there was no way she could make good on her
promise that I'd want her to expose me publicly. 
      Finally, we pulled into the garage.  My wife leaned over 
and connected my wrist cuffs to the collar.  After that she
disconnected my hands from the headrest, giving me no chance to
get free.  She then reached into her big purse, pulled out a
leash, and connected it to the collar.  Getting her bag, my wife
got out of the car and came around to my door.  I still could not
move because I was strapped in by the seat belt.  She unhooked it
and gave a tug on the leash.
     "Come along now, Sheila," she ordered as we walked into the
house.  We stopped in the kitchen. 
     "The first thing we need to work on is this tendency of 
yours to talk back and question everything I say.  After all, I 
can't keep that gag in your mouth all the time.  Unless, of
course, you like the feel of something shaped like a cock in your
throat." 
     I shook my head violently. 
     "Well then, you need to show me that you can behave. 
Believe me, I hate keeping that beautiful mouth of yours gagged
all the time.  There are so many better uses for it." 
     Having said that she pulled what looked like a leather
sleeve with some laces running down the length out of the bag of
things she'd just bought.  She then walked out of the room for a
few seconds and returned with several pieces of rope.  She
unlocked the wrist cuffs and had me put my hands behind my back. 
She then secured them with the hands facing.  
     Next, she picked up the sleeve and slid it up my arms,
securing it with some straps in front of my shoulder,
guaranteeing that it would not come off.  Then she began
tightening the laces, straightening my arms and pulling my elbows
together until they were about four inches apart.  It hurt like
hell and forced me to pull my shoulders back and arch my back to
accommodate the position of my arms.  My arms and shoulders began
to ache almost immediately.  
     "My, aren't you the brazen little slut!" she laughed as she
looked at me.  I had to admit that the way my back was arched did
throw out my chest, emphasizing my big breasts.  Next, she took a
long length of rope, tied it to a ring on the sleeve below my
hands and ran it to a hook it the ceiling.  That ring!  She'd had
me put that in the ceiling last week to hold a heavy planter. 
How long had she been planning this?  A tug on the rope brought
me back to the present.  As she pulled on the rope, it forced me
to bend at the waist while she pulled my arms towards the
ceiling.  Tying the rope off onto a doorknob, she commented,
"There, that should keep you.  Comfy?"  
     Hardly!  I was still in those ridiculous heels and this 
position forced all of my weight onto my toes, which were already
in agony.  Adding to this, the bent over position made the corset
so tight that I was gasping for breath in tiny pants.  I felt
like I was going to pass out.  
     The next thing I knew she was pulling my dress up over my 
waist, exposing my pantied bottom.  Then she pulled the panties 
down around my ankles.
     "Are you ready for your first punishment?"
     I had no way to say no, of course. 
     She fumbled around in the bag.  When I looked, she had
pulled out a leather paddle.  There was no doubt what her
intended target was.  Bound as I was, there was also not a single
thing that I could do about it.  
     SMACK!  She connected right on my bare ass with a stinging
blow.  "I think that fifty good ones is about right for talking
back to your mistress, don't you?" 
     SMACK!  She continued.  After about twenty, I lost all
control and was crying like a baby.  Each stroke seemed to sting
more than the one before it.  Finally, she reached fifty.  My
entire behind felt like it was on fire.  She then pulled the
panties up and pulled my hem down again. 
     "That was just your first punishment.  I told you that you
would never forget this lesson.  I'll be back in a little while.
I'm going to take a shower and rest a bit.  My arms are tired. 
Don't go anywhere." 
     Her arms were tired!  At my ass and thigh's expense!  I
stood there, miserably bent over, dreading the next punishment,
and wondering what it would be. 
 

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an222260@anon.penet.fi (Tristmegistus)
Date: Sat,  5 Aug 1995 16:28:23 UTC
Subject:       Tristmegistus: The Surprise Vacation 3/10 (TG+)


Heya, dudes and dudettes.  Here's a bit of nastiness dealing with 
forced feminization, etc., and so on.  Chapters One and maybe Two
began life as someone else's work.  Wish I knew who (s)he was.  I 
found them on a local BBS a couple of years ago and was hammered 
by the idea - but the damned thing ended before much of interest 
happened.  I believe I've fixed that - but you be the judge.

As always, I'll utterly ignore any posting to this group requesting reposts.  
If you want to e-mail me with comments, I'll welcome them, even send you 
the file direct, if I have time - but don't offend all the other readers with 
your insipid, thoughtless, inconsiderate, unwelcome public nattering.  
Clear enough?

                    CHAPTER THREE: PUNISHMENT

     I'm sure my wife was gone no more than an hour, but it felt
like days.  I was trapped there, standing on my cramping toes in
those tall high heels, bent forward at the waist, exposing my 
swat-inflamed, pink pantied rear under the hem of my short peach
dress.  My eyes burned from sweat and tear dissolved makeup
that'd run into them while she spanked me with the heavy leather
paddle.  I could barely breathe because of the way I was tied and
tight corset cinching my waist into nothingness.  There was
nothing for me to do but suffer and ruminate on my situation.
     I was trapped by more than my agonizing posture.  She'd
taken pictures of me and threatened to give them to my boss and
secretary if I gave her any trouble for the next two weeks of my
surprise vacation.  She'd made me watch her drop them off at a
fifty-minute photo place at the mall, and I was positive she had
the prints hidden somewhere I'd never find them.  All because I'd
secretly tried on her panties and a few other clothes a couple of
times!  Okay, to tell the truth, it was more than a couple of
times.  Now, she was determined to turn me into Sheila, a sexy
little crossdresser who'd beg to be allowed to go out dancing so
she could be seen and admired!
     A dizzy wave of pain made me start crying again.  I suddenly
stiffened.  What if that wasn't all she wanted to make me do? 
What if she was trying to do more than show off my cute ass and
pouty red mouth?  She'd already called me 'slut' a couple of
times.  What if she meant it?
     I almost fainted.  I had to end this before it went any
further.  She'd promised me still more punishment, and I didn't
think I could take any more.  Maybe, if I acted the way she
wanted, she'd relent.  More importantly, if I cooperated, there
was sure to be a chance to catch her off guard and escape before
any real damage was done.
     By the time I finally heard the door open, I was in such
total agony that thinking of ways to escape my feminization was
the last thing on my mind.  I'd have done anything simply to be
allowed to stand up straight.  I was dizzy from the unending
struggle to breathe.  My legs were cramped into fiery pillars of
pain.  I tried to sob out around the penis gag what was supposed
to be her name.
     "Well, well," she drawled from behind me, "don't you look
sexy!  How's that nice little ass feel now, Sheila?  Still hot
and pink as your panties?"
     I heard her walking across the vinyl floor until she was
right behind me.  Between my quivering legs, I saw that she'd
changed into some shoes I'd never seen before.  The black high
heels must have been six inches tall and were tipped with narrow
metal spikes.  Her ankles were covered in black mesh hose.  I
jumped when I felt her hand on my ass, then tried to stand very
still for whatever she was going to do.  She petted me between my
cheeks.
     "Is it too tender, darling?  Oh, dear.  It's hard to answer
me with that nasty gag in your mouth, isn't it?"
     I nodded frantically.
     "Will you be a good girl if I take it out?"
     I nodded so hard that time that I almost dislocated my
shoulders.
     I gasped the instant the thing slid out of my dried lips.  I
wanted to scream at her to turn me loose.  Instead, I croaked
out, "Thank you."
     "Why you're quite welcome, dear.  Would you like to stand
up?"
     "Please!" My voice shook wildly.
     "One little thing, and I'll loosen the rope."  I heard her
dig through the bag of things she'd bought and wondered what my
next torture was.  She tugged my panties down and ran a finger
lubricated with something cold and slick over my exposed asshole. 
Then, she eased the finger inside me.  It hurt like hell, but
what could I do?  If I screamed or protested, she'd do it anyway
and leave me tied in this bent forward position - or something
worse.  I gritted my teeth and endured as best as I could.
     She wiggled the finger inside me and ran it in and out a
couple of times.  Cold sweat again popped out all over me, but
there was a strange heat, also.  When she pulled her hand away, I
thought she was finished.  Then I felt something cold and hard
being pressed into me, something much fatter than a finger.  It
spread me so wide I thought I was going to have to scream, then
narrowed, letting my sphincter muscle clamp around it.
     "Very good, honey.  In case you're wondering, that's your
very own butt plug.  I'm sure it's painful, but you'll get used
to it. I expect you to wear it at all times unless I tell you
otherwise.  Is that clear?"
     I nodded jerkily.
     "Say it!"
     "Yes," I choked out.  "I understand."
     When she unhooked the rope from the doorknob and let me
stand, I staggered and almost collapsed.  Even the tiny breathing
space the tight corset gave me felt wonderful.  I gasped as deep
lungfuls of air as I could.  I barely noticed her loosening the
long leather sleeve laced up my arms, locking my elbows together,
but I was sure aware of the added freedom and the lessening
torture.
     She had to help me to a chair, holding me by my wrists,
still cuffed behind my back.  I hissed when I sat, both from
tender ass cheeks and the suddenly more noticeable discomfort of
the thing buried in my ass.
     Until then, I hadn't looked at her, and what I saw shocked
and frightened me.  She looked nothing at all like my wife!  She
was wearing a shiny, form-fitting black latex bodysuit that looked
something like wildly cut one piece swimwear.  There was a seam
down the middle decorated with silver studs.  The outfit made her
nipples stand out and was buried in the valley between her pussy
lips.  The stiletto heels made her much taller than I was, even
in the five inch heels I wore.  Her eyes were made up in a way
that reminded me of Cleopatra, with immense lashes and eyeliner
and silver eye shadow drawn out almost to her temples.  Her lips
were a deep, deep red that made her teeth look too white.  "Oh
dear, you look terrible!  Have you been ruining your makeup by
crying?"
     I nodded, shocked by her appearance.  I heard myself whine,
"It hurt."
     "It was supposed to," she said like she was explaining
something obvious to a child.  "And that was nothing compared to
what I'll do if you start misbehaving again."  She tied my bound
wrists to the chair and brought me some water.  I sipped
thirstily until I noticed how badly I had to pee.  It'd been a
long time since I'd used the toilet.  And about then the blood
flowing through my arms began to tingle, then burn, hurting
almost as badly as being tied had.
     "It'll pass," she said with a grin.
     "Can I use the bathroom?  Please?"
     "Soon.  But first we've got to get you looking pretty again. 
Do you know how much the makeover you ruined cost?"
     So she led me back to the bedroom.  I couldn't help noticing
how the butt plug made me walk even more enticingly than I had
merely in the high heels.  Was there no end to my humiliation?  I
had to endure another eternal thirty minutes at her vanity before
I was allowed to pee - sitting down, of course, with my wife
standing there impatiently.  I couldn't help but sigh my relief
as yet more room was made for me to breathe.  As I stood for her
to pull my panties up, I was amazed that I felt almost
comfortable in the corset and heels.
     "Such a sexy smile," she observed, tucking my penis back
between my legs.  Her fingers lingered there.  Her incredibly
lush, wet lips hovered inches from mine, and I felt myself begin
to harden in her hand.  "Do you feel good, love?"
     "A little," I confessed, reminding myself that I had to go
along with her mad game.
     "Don't you feel pretty?"
     "Kind of."
     "Pretty enough to go out to dinner now?"
     I blushed.  "I'm awfully tired.  Can we do that another
time?"  My penis was at full erection by then, and she was
showing no sign of stopping.
     "But you would if I insisted?"
     My hips rocked in time with her caress under my short skirt. 
"I'd have to.  I know what'd happen if I tried to fight you."
     "Oh, no you don't," she whispered into my face.  "It'd be a
hundred times worse than you can imagine, Sheila.  Trust me on
that.  You don't want to ever do anything that'd make me angry. 
Never again.  Understand?"
     I nodded, feeling her stroking hand more clearly than I
heard her soft words.  The way she was rubbing me through the
silky material of the panties was driving me wild.  I parted my
lips, leaning forward to kiss her.  She quickly pulled away and
squeezed my balls with enough force to make me feel nauseated.
     "Ah, ah!  None of that, darling.  I'll not have you smearing
that pretty lipstick of yours until I tell you to.  Is my baby
getting all hot?  Her sweet clittie's swollen so big.  Would she
like me to make her cum?"
     "Yes," I whispered.  "Please."
     "You'd cum in your panties and then sleep in them?"
     "Yes.  I don't care.  Just -"
     "You'd lick and suck my pussy until I told you to stop, and
then cum in them for me?"
     Oral sex had always disgusted me.  "Yes!  Anything
you want!"
     She dropped her hand and took me back to the bedroom,
pushing me to my knees beside the bed.  She quickly opened a
velcro closure hidden under the metal studs of the bodysuit and
peeled away a strip of fabric that'd covered her groin.  She
straddled my head and sat on the edge of the mattress.  I stared
in shock between her legs.  She'd shaved her pussy sometime in
the week or more since we'd last made love.  Her pinkish-brown
labia shone with moisture.
     "Kiss those lips, Sheila.  French kiss that mouth, you
little slut.  Tongue fuck it like you mean it and maybe I'll let
you cum."
     I was repelled by the thought, but knew it was my only way
to get gratification, and that resistance would mean real
trouble.  I made myself lean forward and hesitantly lap at her.
     "No!" she yelled, grabbing me by my wig and slamming my face
into her, humping my nose with her hips.  "Do it, you fag slut,
or we'll go out and pick somebody up to fuck YOU!"
     I did it with every bit of energy I could summon.  Little by
little, my disgust faded.  I was turning her on!  Her thrusts and
approving curses were heartfelt.  I'd never heard her even half
so aroused when we made love normally.  My penis strained inside
the tight panties as I eagerly wallowed between her legs, licking
and sucking wherever she told me to and going fast or slow
according to her commands.
     When she orgasmed, I thought she was going to smother me. 
She screamed and her legs clamped around me like steel bands,
trapping both my mouth and nose.  Her pussy twitched around my
tongue and my nose nuzzled her clit.  Just as I started seeing
black dots dancing in front of my eyes, she spread her legs and I
came up gasping for air.
     I felt right on the edge of cumming myself.  I looked down
and saw that the hem of my hose clad legs were spread wide.  My
dress had slid up high enough to show the garters and the panties
beneath.  My cock was still almost invisible, pointing toward my 
butt. It looked like I had a girl's middle, and I was so turned on I
was about to die!  I'd never wanted to cum so bad in my whole
life, and I couldn't reach out to jack off.  I tried to pull my
legs together, hoping that maybe I could rub my thighs together
and get off that way.  It didn't work.
     I heard my wife laugh.  "Would my horny baby like to cum in
her panties now?  Would she like to rub her clit with those sexy
hands for me?"
     I saw that she was laying back on the bed, staring down at
me from between her legs.  She was stroking her clit, just like
her words were describing.
     "Would you like me to fix your nasty mouth so you can be
pretty for me, and jack off for me like a dirty little slut?"
     "Yes!  Oh, god, please!"
     When she helped me up, she didn't have to tell me to lay
down on the bed.  I did it on my own.  She spread my legs and
snapped handcuffs attached to the bedframe around my ankles. 
Then she freed my hands from behind my back, clicking the left
wrist to the bed over my head.  The right one she set free.
     "Now do it slow, Sheila.  You can't cum until I tell you
to."
     I was almost oblivious by then.  My hand felt clumsy after
being imprisoned for so long, but it flew straight to my middle. 
She slapped it away and pinned my arm under her weight.
     "Listen to me, cunt!  Unless you do it MY way, you don't get
to do it at all!  Now just lay there until I say so!"
     I panted while she swayed to the vanity to bring what she
needed to repair my face again.  I begged her to hurry.  Her hand
lightly tickled my painful balls and I cooperated to the max,
holding my mouth open like I was hungry for the lipstick, turning
my head this way and that so she could powder my cheeks and chin
to her satisfaction.
     "God, you're a sexy whore, Sheila!  Now do exactly as I say. 
First, lift your skirt out of the way.  Now scratch the length of
your clit with those nasty red fingernails!"
     The scrape of my long nails through the silk almost made me
shoot off right then.  I dimly heard the click of the shutter as
she took more pictures, but there was nothing I could do about
it.  I knew I was angling my hips up provocatively, but I had to
in order to reach myself.
     "Feel good, honey?  I wish you could see how sexy you are,"
she cooed.  "Now stick your hand inside the panties and rub it,
just a little."
     The thrill was electrifying!  It took every bit of willpower
I owned not to jerk it just the once it'd take to send me over. 
But my wife's ominous warning rang in my ears.  I may have
whined, but I didn't cum.
     "Perfect baby!  Now push your panties down under your balls. 
I want to see it.  I want to watch that pretty hand make you
shoot cum up in the air.  NO!  NOT YET!  I want you to just hold
it for a second, just squeeze it.  Feel how good it feels."
     I was dying.  My ears were ringing and my whole body was
stiff.  I was panting like a dog.  "Please!  Please," I howled.
     "Tell me your name, slut!  Tell me who you are and I'll let
you cum!"
     "Sheila," I shrieked.  "I'm Sheila!"
     "And you just love looking sexy, don't you!"
     "Yes!  Yes!"
     "Beg me to take you dancing tomorrow night!"
     "Please take me out!  Anywhere you want!"
     "Do you want to show off?  Do you want to wear that nasty
black minidress and tall heels and bright make up?  Show
everybody what a hot little slut you are?"
     "Yes!  I'll do it!"
     "Do you WANT to do it?"
     "Yes!  Yes!  I want to be a slut and let everybody see me!"
     "Then cum for me, Sheila!  Rub your fat clit and cum!"
     The explosion ripped through me like lightning.  My first
blast of sperm must have shot two feet in the air.  There were
many more spurts to follow, and my flying hand was slick with it
long before I was finished.  I collapsed onto the mattress, weak
as a baby.
     She touched my shrinking penis, and I gasped.  It was so
sensitive I couldn't stand it.  I heard her low chuckle, but she
relented and lifted her hand.  She brushed my lips with her
fingers, and I automatically kissed them, tasting something salty
and sticky.
     My drowsy eyes sprang open.  It was my cum!  I jerked my
head away.
     Her voice was a frightening growl.  "Do you really want to
make me angry, Sheila?  Do you really want to resist me?  Are you
ready for a hot, long dick to slide up your asshole?"
     My eyes threatened to overflow.  "No," I whispered.
     "Then lick every drop of cum from my fingers like a good
slut."
     More humiliated than I'd been while giving the clerks my
charge card, or even having the man leer at me through the car
windows, I did what she demanded.  She scooped every last bit of
sperm off my dress and slack penis and made me swallow it. 
Finally, after I'd licked my own hand clean, she was satisfied.
     After she'd made me change into a red teddy, she chained me
to the foot of the bed and made me sleep on a blanket on the
floor.  She'd loosened my girdle a little, but made me sleep in
make up and the wig.  The butt plug was still there, too.  She
fed me a can of diet milkshake and a tiny salad.
     "You need to get used to being this way, Sheila.  And this
IS the way you're going to be for the next two weeks.  Maybe
longer, if you give me any trouble.  I can't wait to get our next
photos back.  They'll show anybody who sees them just how much
you love living this way."
     The renewed threat to give them to my boss cowed me even
further.  I'd never been so miserable in my life.  She'd reminded
me, as she handcuffed me to the bedframe, of what she'd said
earlier.
     "I told you, Sheila.  I knew you didn't believe me then, but
now you know.  I made you beg me to go out and flaunt your slutty
body, just like I said I would."
     I cried as quietly as I could in the darkness.  Somehow,
some way, I HAD to get out of this!

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an222260@anon.penet.fi (Tristmegistus)
Date: Sat,  5 Aug 1995 16:28:17 UTC
Subject:       Tristmegistus: The Surprise Vacation 4/10 (TG+)


Heya, dudes and dudettes.  Here's a bit of nastiness dealing with 
forced feminization, etc., and so on.  Chapters One and maybe Two
began life as someone else's work.  Wish I knew who (s)he was.  I 
found them on a local BBS a couple of years ago and was hammered 
by the idea - but the damned thing ended before much of interest 
happened.  I believe I've fixed that - but you be the judge.

As always, I'll utterly ignore any posting to this group requesting reposts.  
If you want to e-mail me with comments, I'll welcome them, even send you 
the file direct, if I have time - but don't offend all the other readers with 
your insipid, thoughtless, inconsiderate, unwelcome public nattering.  
Clear enough?


ADJUSTMENTS

     I woke up stiff and sore, with the thing in my ass hurting
like hell.  That and being on the floor were instant reminders of
everything that'd happened.  I tried a deep breath but was
stopped by the corset.  I had to sweep the wig's hair out of my
mouth.  My fingernails startled me so much that my handcuffs
clinked on the bed.
     The mattress moved and my wife's sleepy face peered down at
me.  "Good morning, Sheila?  Did you sleep okay?"
     A bitter retort was on my lips when I saw her face turn
hard.  I swallowed my protest.  "Um, it was okay."
     She looked pleased.  "That's the spirit, darling!  What a
good girl you're being!  Just for that, I'll let you go to the
bathroom alone."
     I tried to hide the hope surging through me by looking down
at the floor and thanking her.  My heart was pounding.  She
dashed it by holding up a pair cuffs with a short length of chain
between them.  She clicked them around my ankles before unlocking
me from the bed, and made me put on the five inch heels.  I had
to take short mincing steps.  Even if I could get away from her,
where could I go in a corset and teddy with shackles on my legs? 
Seeing my dismay, she laughed heartily as I walked delicately
from the room.
     I hated seeing myself in the mirror.  There was still sleep
worn lipstick on my mouth, eyeliner around my eyes, and flakes of
mascara all over my cheeks.  The brown wig was a tangled mop. 
Under the teddy I was as hairless as my wife, and the corset
showing through the lacy lingerie showed a shape as nice as hers,
too.  I could barely see a man beneath all that.  The haggard
woman in the mirror looked familiar, like my twin sister might
have if I had one.
     I felt foolish standing to pee, having to hold the red teddy
out of the way, but I was damned if I'd squat unless I had to. 
The long red fingernails embarrassed me as they touched my heavy
morning cock.  I had to look away as I did my business.
     I tried to think.  I could take a razor out with me to use
as a weapon - but they were all the disposable kind and wouldn't
work.  Not that I could really hurt her, not even for this.  But
maybe I could convince her I meant business.  To my dismay, there
were no scissors, no nothing.  Every concievable weapon had been
taken away.  I almost cried in frustration, and managed not to
only by reminding myself how feminine a reaction that'd be.
     I pulled myself together.  There'd be another time, other
chances, if I played my cards right.  Hating what I had to do, I
tugged a brush through the wig and rinsed my face and mouth.  I
tried a practice smile, but it was too scary.  I had to stay away
from mirrors.
     She arched an eyebrow when I traipsed back out with as much
enthusiasm as I could find.  "Why you little darling!  You
cleaned up for me!"
     "Would you like me to bring you coffee in bed?" I asked her
remembering to speak softly in as feminine a voice as I could
muster.
     "What?  And leave you in the kitchen with all those sharp
things?  Honey, you might hurt yourself."
     Obviously, she knew I'd try something and wasn't going to
give me the opening I needed.  I choked back a burst of rage. 
"I'd be very careful."
     "I'm sure you would, darling.  But not this time.  Sit down
there and get started on your face, my little cum lover.  I'll
make the coffee."
     She cuffed my legs to the back legs of the vanity's chair
and roped my chest tightly to the back.  I might be able to reach
the knot, I thought.
     "Now do a good job, honey.  I want you to look pretty. 
Remember, we've got an appointment to get your hair done this
afternoon."
     "But I can't!" I protested.  "I don't know how!"
     "Come darling," she warned as she turned away.  "You've
watched me hundreds of time, and Cindy and I showed you exactly
how it needs to be done.  Do it and do it right, or else!"
     The moment she was out of sight, I tried the knot.  It was
tight, and I could get no leverage because of the angle of my
wrists.  I fumbled with it anyway, desperately, but to no avail. 
Again tears threatened me.  This time I couldn't hold them off. 
Once I started, I couldn't stop.
     I'd never felt anything like that in my life.  I was
terrified and helpless.  She was outsmarting me at every turn.  I
was horrified - she was winning!  She WAS going to be able to
make me do whatever she demanded, no matter how sick or twisted. 
I was never going to be able to resist her.  I was still crying
when she came back fifteen minutes later.  Her deep scowl made me
try harder to dam the flood.
     "You haven't even started!" she accused angrily.
     "I . . . I . . ." I stammered hopelessly.
     "You worthless little bitch!  That does it!"  She stormed
toward me.  There was no way to flee from her.  I covered my face
with my arms and sobbed anew.  But she didn't go for my face. 
Her slap landed squarely between my legs.  I doubled up with a
sick groan.  She wrenched one arm behind my back and twisted.  A
cold cuff went around my wrist.
     "Give me the other arm!"
     I did.
     "Why you thankless bitch!  You broke a nail messing with
that knot, trying to get away!  Oh, you'll pay for that, too!" 
She jerked me to my feet by my arms, causing me to yell in pain. 
She dragged me into the bathroom and pushed me into the tub,
still wearing what I'd slept in.  She jerked off my high heels,
then turned the water on, adjusting it until it was almost
scalding hot.  I was too afraid to protest.  At least I'd quit
crying.  She quickly reattached the handcuffs around a very solid
towel rack.  With a sinking heart, I remembered I'd installed it
for her three weeks ago.  More evidence that she'd been planning
this for a very long time!
     To the burning water, she added fragrant bath salts and
oils.  She reached under me and with a cruel jerk, removed the
plug that almost felt like part of my ass.
     "You've earned the next larger size, cunt.  We've got to get
you loosened up and ready for a big fat real cock, don't we? 
After all, we don't want it to hurt you so much you can't enjoy
the way it's going slide in and out of you."
     That was more than enough to make me sob all over again. 
"Please," I begged her softly, "Not that.  Anything but that."
     "Anything, Sheila?  You mean that anything's better than
having a man lift your sexy legs over his shoulders and spread
those cute buns under your dress and hammer you with his cock?"
     "Yes!" I wailed hysterically.  "Anything!"
     "Oh, baby," she laughed, "I'm going to make you remember
what you just said.  When you're crying this hard, begging me to
let you have a cock up your ass, I'll remind you.  And you will,
you know.  Just like you did last night."
     With the steaming tub filled to the rim, she left me to soak
and think.  Horrible scenarios ran through my mind, but none were
anywhere near as bad as what she'd said.  What could be worse
than having another man do that to me?  The whole thing was a
nightmare, but that . . .
     The water was almost cool by the time she returned, and I
was having trouble.  It was like the butt plug had already
loosened my asshole, and I was sweating as I tried to keep my
bowels from emptying in the bathwater.
     "Toilet!" I begged the instant the door opened.
     "Oh, my!  Do we have a problem, darling?"  I barely noticed
that she was in makeup as wild as the night before and wearing an
ebony minidress that looked as wet and skin tight as her bodysuit
had.
     "I need to shit!  Please!"
     She giggled merrily.  "We can't have that, can we?  You'd
have to walk around all day smelling of you own shit!"  She put a
theatrically thoughtful red nail before her thick scarlet lips. 
"Now let me see.  What did I do with those keys?"
     I realized as she turned away that she wasn't coming back. 
I knew the keys were just outside the door on an end table.  And
she didn't return until she heard the forlorn wail I made fifteen
minutes later as my stretched sphincter finally released.  I was
straining to keep as much of my body out of the filth as I could
and crying like a lost toddler.
     She clucked her tongue at me and looked disgusted.  "Well,
Sheila.  That's your third fuck up already, and you've only been
awake an hour.  What am I going to do with you?  I'm only going
to be able to have you fucked by a few men before it's more
reward than punishment."
     "I'm sorry!  I'll behave!  I swear to God I will.  Please,
Ellen, give me one more chance!"  I knew she was maneuvering me,
but it was all I could do.
     She walked up to the side of the tub, petted my damp wig
with her hand.  I looked up, pleading with my eyes.  I could see
right up her skirt, see that she wasn't wearing any panties, just
garters to hold up her seamed hose.  Her naked pussy pouted down
at me.  I remembered how it tasted.  Her searing red mouth
smiled.  "Anything, darling.  That's what you said.  Remember? 
Now take a deep breath and relax."
     With that, she unlocked my hands.  I knew what was coming. 
Nausea welled up in me as she pushed my head under the water I'd
soiled.
     At least she let me shower and scrub myself clean, even
though I didn't feel that way.  It didn't feel like I'd ever be
able to get clean.  I hated her for what she'd done - all of it,
not just in the bathtub.  But it was a strange hatred, more fear
than anger, if that makes sense.  It didn't to me.  I was more
and more convinced that I wasn't going to be able to escape her -
ever.  My self-confidence had been eaten away over the past day
until I doubted everything except her cunning.
     Somehow, being naked was even worse than wearing the corset
and teddy had been.  My hairlessness seemed all the reminder I
needed.  I wrapped a towel around me to hide as much of myself as
I could while I shaved my light beard as smooth as was humanly
possible.  I knew the towel was a feminine gesture, but I
couldn't stand seeing myself that way.
     When I finally minced out of the bathroom in my shackles,
holding my shampooed wig in my hand, she acted like nothing had
ever happened.  She was chatty, in a kind of girl to girl way. 
She'd loaded a tray with fresh fruit and coffee.  My mouth
watered as I ate my share and tried to make light conversation. 
She was critical of my voice, but not in a vicious way.  As she
cleared the scant meal, she told me to do my makeup like a good
girl.
     I promptly tried to imitate what had been done to me several
times the day before.  I'd been paying no attention, and was
finding the task overwhelming.  I swallowed my fear and meekly
asked for her help.  I watched her expressionless face as she
approached, fearful of her wrath, but her smile made me try to,
also.
     "Of course, my love.  I'm so happy you asked."  She pressed
her soft breasts against the back of my head as she hugged me. 
"I'd love to help make you beautiful.  But," she warned tenderly,
you must learn to do it for yourself, or I'll be upset."
     "I will," I vowed, relishing the feel of her chest wrapping
around me.  "Uh, by the way, I think you're beautiful today."  It
was the most truthful thing I'd said all day.
     "Um," she purred, sliding her hands down my smooth chest,
playing with my nipples, rubbing her breasts more firmly against
me.  "Thank you, lover.  I knew you'd like it as much as I do."
     She let her hands slide lower still, grasped my growing
member in a gentle hand.  "God, you make me so hot," she
whispered, staring at me via the mirror.  "You've done your lips
even better than I did.  Such a sweet red pout - but you should
never start with lipstick, baby.  Oohh.  My cunt's dripping,
thinking about how good they'd feel kissing it like you did last
night.  You gave me the best orgasm I've ever had, Sheila.  I
want to sixty-nine with you, lick your clit until we both cum."
     "I want that, too," I panted hotly, imagining my cock in
that sweltering red mouth.  I spoke what I hoped she wanted to
hear.  "Let me lick you again.  Let me fuck you with my tongue."
     She kept me stone hard and sweaty until she'd coached me
through the whole makeover.  Then she forced me into a second
corset, this one red, and let me play with myself and her heavy
breasts as she stretched the laces tighter and tighter.  She
warned me over and over not to cum until she gave me permission. 
I had to put the breast forms in myself.  Satisfied, she pushed
me to the carpet and straddled my face.
     "Eat me, whore," was her final command before lowering her
head toward my big, raging clit.
     It didn't take either one of us long.  I couldn't wait for
her to tell me to let go.  She started writhing on my face as her
orgasm hit her, and mine erupted wildly moments later.  She
didn't seem to mind, as she moaned loudly, despite her mouthful,
and sucked mightily.
     I was still lazily licking her when she lifted herself off
me and turned around.  She brought her smeared red lips down to
mine and kissed me hungrily.  She forced her tongue into my
mouth, then pushed the glob of cum she'd saved into the back of
my mouth.  I tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. 
She clamped one hand over my lips and massaged my throat until I
swallowed repeatedly, my eyes filled with tears of humiliation.
     "There.  Was that so bad, Sheila?  Because you're being so
cooperative, I'll overlook the fact that I didn't give you
permission to cum.  See?  I'm not unreasonable.  If you continue
to behave, we can both enjoy ourselves.  But the moment you
rebel, I'm the only one who'll enjoy myself.  Now be a doll and
take your vitamin before you fix your face."
     The way she said it made me suspicious.  I looked at the big
pill when I rolled it into my palm.
     Her laughter made me turn my head after I'd swallowed it. 
"You're right, dear.  That's a very special vitamin.  You've been
taking a huge dose of female hormones for over a month now. 
Haven't you noticed how smooth your skin is getting?  Soon,
you'll be growing your very own breasts!"
     I stared at her in utter horror, more sick to my stomach
than bathing in my shit had made me.
     "Why are you doing this to me?" I cried.
     She encircled my waist from behind, trapping my arms within
hers.  "Because it's what we both want, darling.  Don't you see? 
You need this as much as I do."  Her voice turned stern and cold. 
"If you ruin your makeup by crying, I'll make you regret it."
     It took superhuman effort to stifle the tears.  I wondered,
in my panic, if the daily overdose of hormones was what was
making me so emotional.  I tried to pay attention to the
cosmetics as I prepared my face to go back to the mall.  I didn't
care how I looked - but Ellen did, and pleasing her was something
I HAD to do.
     Dressed in a skimpy gold dress and strapped into yet another
pair of five inch heels, with the promised larger butt plug
trapped between my ass cheeks and my wig pinned to my scalp, she
led me back to the garage.  I was somewhat shocked that she
didn't use the handcuffs.  I guess she figured the leather collar
and leg irons and my full blown feminine look was enough
incentive to behave.  She was right, too.

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an222260@anon.penet.fi (Tristmegistus)
Date: Sat,  5 Aug 1995 16:28:34 UTC
Subject:       Tristmegistus: The Surprise Vacation 5/10 (TG+)


As always, I'll utterly ignore any posting to this group requesting reposts.  
If you want to e-mail me with comments, I'll welcome them, even send you 
the file direct, if I have time - but don't offend all the other readers with 
your insipid, thoughtless, inconsiderate, unwelcome public nattering.  
Clear enough?

                    DEFINING SHEILA

     It was ten times worse than the day before.  Ellen's almost
obscene black dress and lewd makeup attracted the attention of
everyone we encountered as we traipsed through the mall.  While
all their eyes locked on her first, they took me in also.  She
warned me, after we'd gone a little way, to stand tall and act
proud of my beauty, or else.  The shop windows showed me how I
looked, with my big breast forms and tiny waist and full hips
revealed by the clinging gold dress.  I couldn't ignore how
enticing my widely swaying ass looked.  I felt like a beacon,
like people could see me from miles away.  She'd deliberately
parked as far from the beauty salon as possible, exposing us to
the blatant stares of hundreds of people as we traversed the full
length of the shopping center.  I felt every lusty look like it
was actually touching me.
     By the time we finally got to the salon, I was horribly
confused.  While I was ashamed to death of being publicly exposed
like that, I was also a little breathless with excitement.  It
wasn't really sexual.  My cock wasn't rock hard, for which I was
immensely thankful.  It was more like I was doing something
dangerous, something illicit, that charged me with adrenaline.  I
was fooling everyone!  They were staring at me as hard as they
could, and had no idea!
     The way Ellen looked at me when we turned into the beauty
shop told me she knew what I was feeling.  Her smile mocked my
pleasure, said, "I told you so," without her having to say a
word.
     Cindy and my wife again led me to the back room.  I was
grateful to be out of sight and tried to relax.  After my period
of freedom, I was dismayed when Ellen again used the velcro
straps on my wrists.
     "You know what to do," she told Cindy.  "And while you're at
it, she broke a fingernail this morning that needs to be fixed."
     "No problem," the stylist smirked.  "I've been thinking.  If
you'd like, I could wax her legs and chest and I think I can do
better with her face, too."
     "Great idea!  Do whatever you think the little bitch needs. 
I'll be back in an hour or so."  She turned her wet red lips up
and smiled at me.  "Be a good girl, Sheila.  I think Cindy likes
you, so be very nice and don't give her any trouble."
     I nodded meekly, tried to smile back, and used the tips
she'd given me on speaking right.  "Have fun shopping."
     As soon as she was out of sight, Cindy started acting
different.  "Okay, Sheila, we're going to have a lot of fun
today.  You're not going to believe how hot you're going to look
before I'm through with you."
     She removed my wig, which was embarrassing.  Anybody who
walked in would recognize me for what I was.  I was expecting her
to style it or something.  Instead, she threw it carelessly on
the counter and picked up a pair of shears.  When she started
cutting away all my hair, I froze.  She didn't stop until my hair
was an eighth of an inch long all over!  Then, to my horror, she
picked up a straight razor and ran it ominously over a strop,
smiling wickedly at me all the while.
     I sat rigidly, gripping the armrest as tightly as I could,
while she applied shaving cream to my scalp and shaved me
completely bald!  I was whimpering, doing everything possible not
to cry at my humiliation.
     "Now look in the mirror, Sheila!"  It was a command at least
as intense as any Ellen gave me.  I obeyed, fearing the
consequences, and was astonished by what I saw.
     It wasn't a bald man sitting there, but a lovely, delicately
featured young woman with a scalp as slick as a cue ball!  I
tried as hard as I could to see myself under the clothes and
cosmetics, and couldn't!  The dangling earrings, arched eyebrows
and bowed, trembling red lips weren't mine!  The heaving double
swell of my chest looked like it belonged there!  The shapely
hose covered legs and towering high heels were someone else's!  I
had vanished as thoroughly as if I'd never existed!
     "Now for the good part," Cindy said.  She lifted another
wig, long, platinum blonde and obviously very, very expensive,
from a box.  She showed me a peculiar smooth liner on the
underside instead of the weave like on the other one.  "What
happens is that I apply a nice smooth coat of a special epoxy to
your scalp and the wig, then . . ."
     She let her words trail off.  I completed the sentence for
her in my mind.  It'd become permanent.  Maybe, in a month or so,
as my hair grew out, it'd loosen.  Until it did, the silver
blonde hair would cascade over my shoulders and reach part way
down my back.  It finally penetrated that my two week vacation
"cruise" wasn't going to end that soon, no matter how well I
behaved.
     I gave in to my tears while Cindy smeared the smelly paste
all over my scalp and I openly sobbed when she carefully fitted
the wig to my head, jerking it firmly into place.  She wore an
expression of triumph.
     "Jesus," she sneered, "what a pussy you are!  It's no wonder
your wife treats you this way.  It's exactly what a wimpy little
fag like you deserves!  Now I'm going to take these straps off
and get you out of that corset long enough to make sure there's
not a single bit of stubble anywhere on you.  Give me any shit,
and I'll invite every woman in the shop to come back and laugh at
your naked body!"
     Taking all my clothes off was even worse than wearing them. 
I felt like I wasn't a man anymore, and she destroyed the
illusion that I was a woman, too.  She laughed at the plug
closing my ass as she smeared a burning, stinking chemical all
over me, even on my face, cock and balls, and made me endure the
torture of the depilatory far longer than was necessary.  I was
afraid it was going to burn my penis and balls right off.  She
pushed me into a shower and made me rinse it all off and use a 
heavily perfumed soap and then fragrant body powder.  I noticed
how smooth and soft I was all over.  I guessed the hormones were
working, like Ellen had said.
     She laced me back into the red corset even tighter than my
wife had, but had added some padding to the hip area while I
showered.  When she stepped back to admire her work, I had even
more of an hourglass figure than before.  She made me sit in the
chair, with nothing to cover my dangling, shriveled genitals,
while the other girl, Debbie, redid all my nails, not just the
one I'd cracked, and made them even longer and redder.  The way
she smirked from time to time at my groin made me wish my sex
organs would crawl up inside me.
     Cindy, meanwhile, was styling my new hair and redoing my
face, using a different colored foundation, lots of bright blush,
and making my eyes and lips look as slutty as Ellen's did.  I
really and truly looked like a cheap whore with useless male
organs where a wet pussy should have been.
     That's the way my wife found me on her return.  Her eyes
widened with surprise, then her lush lips smiled.  "Good lord,
Cindy!  You're a genius!"
     "You've got one hot little slut here!" the stylist laughed. 
"Thirty-seven, twenty-two, thirty-five unless I'm blind.  That
gold dress is going to be stretched even tighter over her mean
little ass.  Too bad she's got such a pot belly under that
corset.  Get her to lose fifteen pounds and she'd be a real
knockout - if she didn't have that ugly thing between her legs."
     "Twenty pounds is more like it," my wife said.  She patted
my wrist.  "I know she can do it.  She may not show it, but she
loves what you've done for her, don't you darling?"
     When I meekly nodded, her hand tightened on my arm.  Before
she could reprimand me for not answering aloud, I did.  "Yes. 
It's lovely.  Thank you, Cindy."
     They both laughed at my spinelessness.  Cindy added, a
little hesitantly, "I, uh, came across something else I think she
might like.  If you don't mind, Ellen, I'd like to give her a
present."
     Ellen looked touched.  "Cindy!  That's so sweet!  Of course
you may!"  I was instantly filled with fear.
     The stylist opened a drawer in her cabinet and brought out a
gaily wrapped package with "To Sheila," written on the tag and
handed it to me.  The paper read "Happy Birthday," all over.  I
blushed furiously.
     "Well open it, silly girl!" my wife urged.
     I did, fumbling, unable to use my hands as I always had due
to the absurd length of my hooked nails.  I discovered I could
use them as tools, sliding them along, slitting the paper like a
letter opener.  Inside the box was a bizarre flesh toned elastic
device something like both a g-string and a pouchless jock strap.
When I figured out its function, my blush went even deeper.
     "A retainer!" Ellen said appeciatively.  "Oh, Sheila, put it
on for us!"  She ripped off the velcro bands, freeing my arms.
     I bent forward as far as I could, exhaled every bit of air
in my lungs, but the corset wouldn't let come close to reaching
my ankles, even when I lifted one foot.  "Will you help me?"
     "Of course, darling!  Here!"  I delicately lifted each foot
as she slipped it over my ankles, but she stopped when she'd
lifted it to a height I'd shown I could reach.  I had to do the
rest.
     It was humiliating to have to detach my hose from the
garters, elevate my hips, and work the thing into place.  Worst
of all was reaching inside it and arranging my penis and balls so
that they flattened into absolute invisibility.  Ellen again
helped me with my tiny bikini panties.  When all was done, I had
a perfectly smooth middle.  Even the retainer's tough elastic
string dug so deeply into my flesh that it left no line.
     For all visible purposes, I had been turned into a complete
woman, even if they peeked up my dress.  No one who saw me would
ever doubt my femininity now.  The leather collar covered the
lump of my larynx.  My knees weren't even knobby.  I felt
positive that I would "pass" wherever I went.  But that was only
part of it.
     My own senses reported no masculinity left in me.  My
shimmering hair - the only hair I had other than my carefully
shaped eyebrows - had tickled my cleavage as I bent forward,
swung with my every move.  Dangling from my ears were long gold
earrings that chimed softly when I moved my head.  I had learned
to look out at the world through long black lashes thick with
mascara, day and night.  When I looked at my chest, even without
breast forms, I saw how much the corset lifted and shaped my very
own flesh into small pink bosoms - and Ellen assured me that, due
to the hormones, they were growing.  Now even my panties were
flat and smooth.  My every word was shaped by lips that dripped
with deep red color.  My fluttering hands were branded, changed
by long scarlet commas.  My ass was perpetually violated by a
fake penis I'd gotten used to feeling rub my insides as I walked.
Even without high heels, my hips rolled and swayed.
     My emotions weren't even my own.  Maybe it was the hormones,
maybe it was something else, but the bottom line was that I cried
every time I became afraid.  I felt that EVERY emotion I felt was
visible.  Ellen had easily seen through my sly efforts to try to
escape from her control.  And, while I hate admitting it, she'd
also read, without even trying, how pleased I was by what Cindy
had done to me.  I DID like it.  I WAS grateful.  And the clearly
visible rush of joy that made them laugh was making me sick.
     While they chatted about this and that, I paid no attention.
I was trying to name a new emotion growing in me.  I hated myself
for what I was feeling.  It made me feel like maybe I was exactly
what Cindy had called me - a pussy, a wimpy little fag.  That was
the only kind of man I could think of who'd be so proud of his
completely feminized appearance as I was.
     As Ellen turned to me and asked me a question, I was jerked
back from my sad musing.  "I'm sorry," I had to confess, despite
the danger, "I didn't hear . . ."
     Cindy laughed throatily.  "Little cunt was so busy admiring
herself she wasn't listening."
     My wife's look was stern, and her eyes shone maliciously. 
"I asked you if you'd like to thank Cindy for her birthday gift."
     "Yes.  Of course.  Thank you, Cindy.  It's -"
     "Not that way," Ellen interrupted harshly.
     I was befuddled.  Cindy took my hand, helped me stand, led
me back to the bathroom.  I had no idea what was happening, but I
was sure I wasn't going to like it.  She locked the door and
leaned against the lavatory. "You really didn't hear, did you?"
     "Uh, no.  I'm sorry.  I -"
     "Ellen was telling me what a great pussy eater you are, how
you make her cum like she's never cum before."
     I paled, felt dizzy, sick.  Unable to speak, I watched her
hands slowly lift her skirt, inch at a time.
     "You know what to do, Sheila.  Don't make me use force."
     I stared at her exposed panties.  They were a pale blue. 
Their crotch was moist, dark.  One hand released her hem.  I felt
the weight of it transerred to my shoulder.  I sank to my knees. 
What else could I do?
     She made me do it all.  I watched my woman's hands tenderly
lower her panties, revealing her moist cunt, its lips shaven, but
with a cloud of brown curls left above the hooded clitoris.  I
touched, stroked it, finger fucked it, careful of my nails,
exactly as she told me to.  I kissed it and licked it and
inserted my tongue in her cavity to her gasped specifications. 
She didn't taste quite like Ellen did.  Less fishy, more
fragrant.  Better, really.  Her hands were rough in my hair
though.  The sharp pain in my scalp was almost exactly as if my
hair was real, not like the wig had been.
     When she came with a muffled shriek, I hungrily licked her
clean.  My penis throbbed in my new restraint, filling it with
cum.  I hadn't even touched it.  My lust had betrayed me.  Even
after her hands left my hair, I stayed there, kissing away the
dregs of her passion, increasingly aware of how I'd left my
lipstick all over her, how proud of myself I was for returning
her gift in the only way I could.
     "You ARE good, Sheila," she purred, no laughter left in her
tone.
     "Thank you.  You taste so good, Cindy."  I kissed her
reddened clitoris one last time.  Was it really me admitting
that, meaning that?  It must be.
     She helped me to my feet, more tender than she'd ever been. 
She gathered me in for a soft kiss, and I offered no resistance,
automatically parted my lips for her tongue.  "Next time, I'll
give you another present and maybe I'll taste you.  Would you
like that?"
     "If you want to.  If it's okay with Ellen," I stammered.  My
eyes were on my face in the mirror as she hugged me.  My cheeks
were wet with her fluids.  My lips were smeared.  When I licked
them, I tasted the candy of my lipstick and the richness of her
cum.  I'd made her do that, given her so much pleasure that she'd
shouted it aloud.
     "You didn't answer me, slut.  Would you LIKE that?"
     "Yes, Cindy.  Very much.  I . . . I came, too."  I watched
the honesty made my face red.
     She pushed me to arms length, her eyes twinkling merrily. 
"You did?  Show me!"
     My regret was instantaneous.  I stuttered, looking for a way
out.  Her expression turned stony.  "Show me, whore!  Show me the
mess you made in the present I gave you!"
     Batting back tears of shame, I wiggled my panties down, then
the heavy elastic, sticky with spewed sperm.  My cock hung, tiny
and wrinkled and ugly, shiny with thick spunk.
     Cindy's laughter was like tinking bells.  "What does Ellen
make you do when you cum?  Doe she punish you?"
     I could lie, I thought.  Maybe she wouldn't tell my wife. 
But if she did?  And, did I really WANT to lie?  "She . . . she
makes me eat it."
     "Well?  What are you waiting for?"
     I was ready for it that time.  I knew the taste and texture.
I scraped up what I could.  She made me unhook my hose and remove
the device and lick it clean.  Her eyes glittered the whole time.
Her breath was quick again.  I could see her nipples through her
dress.  This was giving her pleasure, too.  I made a small, shy
show of the process, trying to look like I enjoyed what I was
doing.  Didn't I, at least a little?  Wasn't this a vital part of
what'd been done to me?  Didn't it earn me favor, freedom?  Such
a small price to pay.
     "May I put it back on now, Cindy?"  I'd seen how my penis
was growing.  I wanted to hide it.
     "No.  Let's show Ellen what a good bitch you've been."
     I hung my head and she led me out, panties dangling from one
hand, retainer from the other.  Her voice was thick while she
related every detail to my wife.  I hazarded a glance at Ellen
from beneath the shield locks of my tangled hair, and quailed
inside.
     She wasn't pleased by my actions.  She was shocked, maybe
even dismayed, and trying not to show it.  I felt my lower lip
begin to tremble as my eyes filled with fearful tears.  I'd been
so sure I was doing the right thing!
     The next time I glanced up, her face was a blank mask, and
her eyes were on me, not Cindy, whose voice was but a dim echo. 
She read my confusion like I was an open book.  I guess I was.  I
couldn't look away.  She deliberately reached into her purse and
came up with a package of cigarettes and a lighter.  My shock
deepened.  She abhorred everything about tobacco, yet she tapped
out a cigarette and lit it and inhaled as if she'd been doing it
for years.  I was like a rodent hypnotized by a snake, staring
vacantly at how her bright lips stained the white filter, then
pursed as if she was kissing the grey plume she exhaled.
     Cindy's tale ended and my wife's eyes dismissed me.  She
smiled tightly, but Cindy missed the tension in it.  "Very good,
Sheila.  You're turning into the perfect little slut, aren't
you?"
     She was waiting.  I didn't know what to say.  "I . . . I
guess so.  I'm sorry if -"
     "There's nothing to be sorry about, darling.  Nothing at
all.  But we have to hurry.  There's so much to do before we go
out tonight.  Go back in there and get dressed.  Fix your makeup."
     Ellen paid Cindy while I quickly wiggled into my undergarments,
repaired my lipstick and powdered my face.  The stylist refused a 
tip.  "Sheila's already given me one," she laughed.  "Bring her 
back next week if you'd like to begin electrolysis on her face."
     I followed numbly.  Electrolysis to remove my thin facial
hair?  I didn't even worry about it.  All my worries were focused
on my wife.  She marched quickly along, forcing me to have to
hurry to keep up.  I felt awkward, stumbling along as best I
could in the five inch heels, and knew I was making a fool of
myself.  She was angry what I'd done.  Very angry.  I'd be
punished horribly for some transgression, and I wasn't even sure
what it was.  Because I'd had an orgasm as I ate Cindy?  That
must be it.
     She didn't slow her pace, and I fell farther and farther
behind.  Everyone was looking at us - the striking brunette in
the clinging black lycra dress, and the slutty, clumsy platinum
blonde.  After a while, I realized no one could tell I was
following her.  We didn't look like we were together.
     A surge of panic made me bite my lower lip to stifle a
shout.  Was she going to abandon me here?  Was she deliberately
going to force me to get home however I could?  My pace faltered,
throwing me even further behind.  What was I going to do?  I had
no money, no identification - nothing!  My legs refused to carry
me another step.  I was frozen, in the middle of a throng of
shoppers.  A man bumped into me and I nearly leapt out of my
skin.
     He stopped.  "You okay lady?"  His eyes touched me, raked
me.
     I bolted.  I couldn't stand how close he was, what his eyes
were doing.  I pursued my wife, not caring how it looked.  I felt
like my very life depended on catching her before she reached the
car.  To my utter horror, I couldn't see her.  Even in five inch
heels, everyone was taller than I was.  The crowd had closed
around her, as if it was trying to hide her.  I hesitated,
turning hopelessly this way and that, at the juncture of two
wings of the mall, having no idea which direction she'd gone.  I
was too scared to even remember where the car was.  I'd never
felt so utterly lost and alone, even as a child.  How could she
hate me so much that she'd do this to me?
     I was positive my immobility was again drawing more
attention to my face and body.  I knew I looked like I was
advertising, asking for exactly the kind of looks I was being
given.  There was nothing exciting about it now.  My wife had
buffered me from it, made me safe.  Now, I was totally
vulnerable, exposed even more than I had been when Cindy stripped
me nude in the salon.
     Terror became dread certainty.  Something horrible was going
to happen.
     "Scared, cunt?" came a sibilant whisper in my ear.
     I whirled to her, my nightmare ended.  "Oh, Ellen!  Where
were you?"
     "You're crying.  Stop it this instant."  She handed me a
tissue.  She was still angry, but there was compassion, too.
     I hadn't even been aware of my tears, and was ashamed.  "I'm
sorry."  I blotted my eyes like she'd taught me.  "I guess I was
making a fool of myself again.  Did I mess up my eyes?"
     "Not too badly.  Come on.  I need a drink."
     This time, her pace was moderate, but her low grade anger
made me hold back a step.  I was desperate to please her, to make
amends for whatever I'd done wrong.  I reminded myself to stand
tall, act proud, do everything she'd told me to do.  It didn't
fully register that we were going to a bar until she crossed the
flow of traffic and led me into a dim, hushed space that smelled
of smoke and liquor.  It was barely three in the afternoon, and
the place was anything but crowded.  My wife occupied one half of
an isolated booth.  I took the other side.
     She silently stared at me until I dropped my eyes.  The
tension was so thick I could taste its bitterness on my tongue. 
Urgency built within me to end it, but my jaw seemed locked
closed.  My mind spun madly, looking for the right thing to do,
to say.  A waitress appeared.  Ellen ordered a pair of stingers
in somber tones.  I thought she was digging through her handbag
for makeup so I could make repairs, but she extracted another
cigarette instead.  The lighter added light to her face for a
moment.
     "What?  You disapprove of me smoking?"
     "It's just a shock is all.  It looks so . . . like you've
been doing it for a long time."
     She exhaled with what seemed relief.  "What if I told you I
started oh, say, six months ago?  What if I said that, since you
weren't paying any attention to me, I bought this dress and
started going out?"
     My mouth hung open foolishly.  "You did?  Oh, God, Ellen!" 
Pictures flickered through my mind.  Ellen, painted and needy,
sitting in places like this looking for men.
     "I didn't say that's what happened.  I said 'what if.'  How
would that make you feel?"
     "Sick, I guess.  And sorry I was so blind.  Is there
anything I can do -"
     Her laugh was harsh.  "You keep assuming that's what
happened, you stupid bitch.  If you knew I'd been fucking other
men - excuse me, men period - would you feel betrayed?  Jealous?"
     "Of course!  I love you, Ellen.  I'd do anything to -"
     The waitress delivered the drinks, reducing us to silence
again.  It was even worse than before.  It was like she'd fed me
a slow poison.  I felt it eating at my guts.  Doubt assailed me. 
Surely I'd have known.  I'd have smelled the smoke clinging to
her flesh and clothes.  I'd have been able to tell if another
cock had been inside her, if her lips had been passionately
locked to another mouth.
     "'Anything,'" she mocked me, easily taking more smoke. 
"There's that word again, Sheila.  Every time you use it, you
make me want to test you, to push you, to see if you really mean
it."
     I squirmed.
     "Drink up," she ordered, not touching hers, but waiting for
me to sip from my glass.  Neither of us were big fans of hard
liquor.  Instantly, I felt the small taste.  Its warmth expanding
outward from my empty stomach.  It'd been two days since I'd had
a decent meal, and I knew the drink was going to hit me like an
avalanche.  I wanted to ask her for a sandwich of something.  I
held my tongue.
     "You still don't get it, do you?"
     "I . . . I think so.  You're saying that what I . . . what
happened with Cindy made you feel . . . uh, betrayed."
     She leaned back.  Her blood red smile was sharp as a knife. 
"I warned you.  Remember?  'If you act like a slut, I'll have to
treat you like one.'  I think those were my exact words."
     "But I was just doing what you ordered me to do!"
     "Did I tell you to cum?  Did I tell you to like it?  Did I
tell you to lick up your cum, or kiss her, or promise to let her
suck you off the next time she gives you a present?"
     "No."  I stared at my woman's hands wrapped around the
drink, the rim marked by my woman's lips.
     She leaned forward.  Her breasts touched the table.  I could
see down almost to her nipples.  "What do you call someone who
gives sex in return for gifts?"
     My heart shriveled.  "But you told me to thank her that way!
I -"
     "I didn't say a fucking thing about 'next time,' did I? 
Answer me!  What kind of woman does what you did?"
     She was right.  What'd I'd done - almost all of it - wasn't
really because she made me do it.  I'd WANTED to.  I felt the
weight of the words fill my mouth, overflow my lips.  "A whore,"
I barely whispered.
     "I didn't hear you."
     I repeated it for her.  "A whore.  I acted like a whore."
     "Is that what you are, Sheila?"
     "No!  I'm sorry, Ellen.  I was wrong.  I did a terrible
thing.  It'll never happen again.  I promise."
     "Un huh.  And I'm supposed to forgive you.  Just like that?"
     I swallowed.  "I, uh . . . I guess I should be punished."
     "Are you asking me to punish you?"
     I finally managed to meet her steely gaze.  "I want you to
do whatever you need to do.  I need you, Ellen.  I love you more
than anything.  If you have to hurt me to forgive me, I'll take
it."  I was whining, begging.  I meant it with my entire being. 
"When I thought you'd abandoned me here, I saw how much I need
you.  I can't stand the thought of ever being without you.  I
think I'd die without you.  You've . . . I'm different now.  I'm
scared all the time.  The only time I feel good is when I'm doing
what you want."
     I watched her anger evaporate, saw the real love in her
eyes.  "Do you really mean that, honey?"
     I was thrilled!  "Oh, god, yes!"
     "And you'll willingly prove it to me?"
     I hesitated before I said the next word.  I needed to be
sure I meant it, she said.  "Anything."
     Her smile was a ray of brilliance.  Her hand covered mine,
squeezed.  "You are a treasure, my love.  I adore you.  I
realized something myself.  What you did with Cindy made me admit
to myself how much I need you, too.  Now finish your drink."
     I swallowed it with unladylike gulps, then gasped for
breath.  We both laughed.
     I shook my head at the instantaneous blast of dizziness,
felt my hair tickle my shoulders.  "Whoo!  That's more than I've
had to drink in years."
     "Since our wedding," she grinned, then pushed the second
glass toward me.
     "You want me to drink this one, too?"
     "Un huh.  In time.  But first let's go freshen up.  I love
what Cindy's done to your face, don't you?"
     I babbled affirmatives to her questions as we wound our way
to the ladies' room.  It was weird going in there, but the thrill
of illicitness was back.  I'd always wondered what those
forbidden doors hid.  I whispered how much fun it was to fool
everyone, to take little risks like this and almost dare people
to challenge me.
     "I know exactly what you mean," she laughed gaily, but
softly.  "I feel the same way wearing these clothes and using so
much makeup.  That's why I smoke, too.  It's part of the
disguise.  Want to try it?"
     "I'd choke.  That wouldn't be very sexy, would it?"
     We kept up our quiet chatter while we touched up our faces,
trading cosmetics, giving one another giggled advice.  We were
mirror images, I thought.  She dark, me light; she real, me
false.  For the first time, being wrapped in feminine clothes, my
face coated with color, my body changed - all of it felt utterly
right.  Maybe it was the hammer-like impact of the alcohol, but I
wouldn't have changed a thing, and told her so.
     Her eyes filled with tears.  "I never expected to hear you
say that, love."
     My smile in the mirror was bright.  My lips were perfect.  
"I don't know - or even care - why you wanted to do this to me. 
Thank you, Ellen."

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an222260@anon.penet.fi (Tristmegistus)
Date: Sun,  6 Aug 1995 11:42:54 UTC
Subject:       Tristmegistis: The Surprise Vacation 6/10 (TG+)


	As always, I'll utterly ignore any posting to this group 
requesting reposts.  If you want to e-mail me with comments, I'll 
welcome them, even send you the file direct, if I have time - but don't 
offend all the other readers with your insipid, thoughtless, 
inconsiderate, unwelcome public nattering.  Clear enough?

                    STEPPING OUT

     "You're making me hot again," Ellen told me.  She
deliberately weighed her heavy breasts.  "See?"
     Her nipples were indeed denting the shimmering black lycra
dress.  "I noticed," I giggled, the alcohol making me reckless. 
"Would you like me to do something about it?"
     "You'd do me right here in the bathroom?" she purred.
     "I'd do you anywhere you want.  You make me hot, too, you
know."  My lips were suddenly hungry.  I wanted to replace
Cindy's aftertaste with Ellen's more pungent flavor.
     "Not yet.  Let's get out of here before it gets any worse."
     "Worse?" I simpered teasingly, bending over to straighten my
hose, placing my face near her middle.  The cascading silvery
mane felt wonderful.  I could almost taste the dew certain to be
collecting on the inner surfaces of her labia.  With a sudden
rush, I remembered that my wife was wearing no panties beneath
that tiny dress, that her sleek, shaved pussy was naked, mere
inches from my saliva filling mouth.  I felt my face flush.
     "I want to lick you, Ellen."
     "You're drunk, you shameless hussy.  I'd better get some
food in you.  Come on."
     Arm in arm, we re-entered the bar.  My pulse was still
hammering.  I'd eaten two pussies that day, had two marvelous
orgasms, and was feeling horny all over again.  And rash.
     The bar was filling.  Our return drew eyes.  I was already
aware of how beautiful I looked, how sexy in the shape-fitting
gold minidress.  Thirty-seven, twenty-two, thirty-five, Cindy had
declared with confidence born of expertise.  At five feet two
inches, sans the heels, that made me a knockout.  The male eyes
touching me didn't feel quite so invasive.  The potent drink had
numbed my fear, warmed my libido.  It was almost a disappointment
to reach our booth and hide ourselves behind a table.
     Ellen leaned forward over it.  The underhalf of her fine
breasts again pressed the smooth surface, and her deep cleavage
opened to me.  Her eyes were hooded, the way they got when she
was aroused.  Her nipples were still erect, must be visible to
all our admirers.  A stab of envy pierced me.  My latex breast
forms, full as they were, felt inadequate.
     "Would you like me to order you a snack, darling?  Would you
like to stay for a while longer?"
     I mechanically sipped the drink she'd pushed to my side of
the table.  I was ashamed of my budding, twisted desire.  "If you
want to."  Her face changed to the look that demanded a real
answer.  "Yes.  I'd like that."
     She leaned back, dug for the cigarettes.  "Now was that so
hard?"
     "I guess not."  I watched her chest swell as she filled her
lungs with smoke.  "Can I, uh, would you mind if I changed my
mind about, uh . . ."
     "Smoking?  Of course."
     As Ellen's lighter flared in my hand and I hesitantly
hollowed my cheeks around the tobacco, the waitress arrived with
another pair of unordered stingers.  "From the gentlemen," she
informed us, nodding toward a table of five businessmen across
the room.  I didn't like the taste of smoke at all.
     My wife turned to smile at the table.  "Thank them, Sheila. 
Give them your prettiest smile."
     My face tightened, my flush deepened.  Deliberately smile at
five men?  Men, just like me?  Well, not quite like me, I
admitted.  But, wouldn't it be rude not to - as well as annoying
to Ellen?  I'd already hurt her, angered her deeply, and didn't
want to risk that again.  I knew how enticing my lush red lips
were as I turned up their corners and aimed them toward the
businessmen.  As I did, Ellen shocked me.  Beneath the table the
toe of one of her towering heels pressed against my thighs,
rubbed slickly over my hose.
     My eyes jerked back to her.  Her lips were slack.  Her
breathing was quick.  She'd slid down in her seat.  "You're so
beautiful," she muttered.  "Spread your legs, baby.  Let me in."
     My knees were knocking.  I tried another puff of smoke.  No
one could see, I reasoned.  I obeyed her and swallowed a gulp of
my drink.  Dizzily, I saw the lipstick coating its rim, marring
the white filter of the cigarette trembling in my hand.  My bent-
under prick was hard, hurtful, invisible within the heavy elastic
retainer.  Her shoe slid smoothly between my knees, rubbed up and
down my inner thigh.  With each stroke, it went higher, its tip
dipping under my high hem, nearing the tops of my hose.
     "Stop.  Please," I whimpered.
     "Am I embarrassing you?"
     "Yes."
     "Am I exciting you?"
     I wet my lips.  "Yes."
     "Is your little clittie hard?  Does it ache?"
     My hips wanted to rock.  I wanted to slide down so she could
reach higher.  "Yes."
     She suddenly dropped her foot and sat up.  Her succulent
mouth shaped an inviting smile, directed over my shoulder.  A
deep voice throbbed in my ear.
     "May we join you?"
     My entire body tensed.  My head jerked toward the sound. 
Two men from the distant table, broadly smiling, stood
expectantly over us.  My ears were filled with a ringing noise. 
I barely heard Ellen.
     "Of course.  Sheila honey, scoot over."
     I reflexively did as she commanded, felt the bench seat sag
under a heavy weight, smelled the sharp sting of male cologne
over the stench of my cigarette.  A muscular shoulder brushed me
as the man arranged himself.  I dared a quick look at my wife. 
Her heavy-lidded eyes were on me, glittered mischievously.  She'd
deliberately set me up.  She'd seen this coming.  She'd toyed
with me, knowing what was going to happen.
     She introduced us.  I imagine I smiled mechanically,
politely, although I'll never be positive.  The next few minutes
are an absolute blank, a deep hole in my memory.  All I recall is
a dire sense of panic.  I was trapped in the booth.  I couldn't
escape.  There was nowhere to go.
     My glass was suddenly empty.  There was what I guess was a
fresh cigarette burning between my curved fingernails.  Ellen's
tall heel was sensuously rubbing my ankle.  My eyes on the table,
I still saw her lean toward her gentleman, watched her pendulous
breast flatten against his bicep for a moment.  Beside me was a
man.  I darted my eyes up at him and he caught them.  His gaze
spoke silent volumes.  How desirable I was.  How much he wished
he could kiss me, touch me.  Fuck me.
     Another round of drinks arrived.  There was no food.  The
unaccustomed alcohol was bringing me out of my shock.  Ellen was
flirting with both men.  Not outrageously, but encouraging them
nonetheless.  She was gently teasing me about being so shy -
recently divorced, she explained, and way out of practice.  She'd
had to drag me out, she laughed musically.  I wondered if her pun
was intentional, decided it was.  She'd proven her genius. 
Everything she did was intentional.  What did she intend to
happen next?  Her hand dropped to the man's suit sleeve.  Her
eyes were locked with his.  My throat tightened.  Would she fuck
him?  Would she make me . . .
     My voice was shrill.  It seemed to explode into the natural
flow of conversation.  "Excuse me.  I have to use the rest room. 
Ellen?"  It was a raw, desperate plea.
     "Already?" she drawled.  Her companion slid out.
     Mine patted my thigh, let his hand linger for an instant
before he moved.  "Hurry back."  His breath puffed against my
overheated cheek.
     The drinks hit me like a truck the second I stood.  The man
who'd freed me from the prison of the booth - Larry, I think his
name was - caught me, or I might have toppled off my heels.  It
was how he performed the chivalrous gesture that was notable.  He
gathered me into his strong arms like a lover.  He didn't hold me
tightly or lewdly, but did press against me from breast to thigh. 
My thoroughly warmed latex tits must have been convincingly soft. 
Through my spinning dizziness, I felt his erection on my hip.
     I fumblingly pushed away from him, but he kept his hands on
my shoulders, steadying me.  The earth slowed its nauseating
spin.  Ellen was standing beside me, wearing a wry red grin.  She
took my elbow and guided my wobble toward the rest room.  Her
grip on my arm was painfully tight.  The instant the door closed
behind us, she pushed me against the wall length vanity.  Her
voice was a raw hiss.
     "What the fuck's going on, Sheila?  First you pout and sulk
like a little kid because I invited two gentlemen to sit with us,
then you leap into the guy's arms like a horny teenager."
     "I'm drunk," I slurred.  "I fell."
     "My ass!  It was deliberate as hell!"
     "No!" I wailed.  "I hate this, Ellen!  All I want to do is
go home!"
     She sucked smoke savagely, spat it back out.  "Maybe you'd
like it if we took them with us?  You'd like to fuck him,
wouldn't you?"
     I shook my head so wildly that I staggered.  I felt the
tears gathering in my eyes.  "Don't say that.  You know it's not
true.  Please don't be mad at me.  You know I can't drink."
     "No one's been forcing you, bitch."
     "I'm scared.  It . . . I . . ."
     She suddenly relented, hugged me, petted my silvery mane. 
It felt good to be comforted.  I nestled into her arms, lowered
my head to her shoulder.  Her voice was soothing.  "This's
happening too fast for you, isn't it?  All these new sensations,
these new feelings.  It must be very confusing."
     I nodded meekly, sighed from the pit of my soul.  The smell
of smoke mingled with her perfume to form an earthy scent.
     "And," she chuckled, "I guess I did forget to order you
something to eat.  Tell you what.  Let's go back out there and
make excuses and get out of here.  Okay?"
     "Thank you, Ellen!"
     "But I want you to do something for me first."
     "Of course!"
     "I want you to kiss him goodbye.  A nice long kiss, like you
mean it."
     I lifted my wobbly head.  My eyes were big as saucers and
I'm sure my pouty mouth hung open in shock.  I started to ask her
if she was serious, but there was ice gleaming in her eyes.  I
dropped my gaze.  I'd screwed up so many times today that I'd
lost count.  I owed her whatever repayment she demanded.  I'd
promised.
     I barely heard my own voice.  "You really want me to?"
     "I do.  Open your mouth.  Use your tongue.  I'll kiss mine,
too - but I'll be watching you.  It'll make my cunt gush down my
legs.  It'll be fun to watch them fall all over themselves,
honey.  They'll beg us to go out with them.  We'll give them a
fake phone number, then I'll get you home and feed you and sober
you up.  Deal?"
     "I guess."
     "Look at me," she demanded throatily, wiggling her skirt up,
baring her garters, then her naked cunt.  "Look how fucking wet
you make me, baby.  You turn me on so much it's killing me.  I'm
not hot because of those good looking men.  I'm dripping because
I love watching you, Sheila.  Feel it, baby.  Feel how wet I am."
     I numbly reached down and rubbed her labia with a slender
finger.  She purred, rocked her hips and took it a little inside. 
She was so slick, so ready.
     "That's what I want to kiss," I heard myself say.  "That's
where I want my tongue."
     She took a step back, her eyes deep pools of desire.  "Not
now.  In the car.  On the way home.  Just pretend his mouth is my
cunt."  She stretched the black dress down over her hips, hiding
her beautiful pussy.
     She made me look at myself in the mirror.  A reality check,
she called it.  My own passion was as visible as my wife's.  My
nipples couldn't get hard like hers, but my face reflected it
just as deeply.  Guiltily, I smelled the finger that had caressed
her.  Her chuckle at my gesture was low.
     "Let's go do it," she said, "and get out of here before I
rape you on the spot."
     Her left tit rubbed my right arm on the voyage back.  I
watched the table approach, saw both men stand politely.  They
really were good looking guys.  Their suits were expensive.  They
were polite to a flaw, and just a little forward.  But then we
looked like the kind of women who were asking for male advances,
so that was to be expected.
     Ellen paused as we approached.  Sheila's not feeling well, I
heard her drone.  We had to go.  Disappointed noises from both. 
Ellen took us a step closer.  My eyes were locked on the one
who'd picked me.  Well trimmed dark hair.  Gleaming white teeth. 
Much taller than I was, and vastly more muscular.
     From the corner of my eye, I saw Ellen respond to the other
one's faint invitation and lean toward him.  I mimicked her,
refusing to think.
     He gathered me up like I was a precious treasure.  He
enfolded me in arms far more powerful than any I'd been in.  His
head bent toward mine and my lips parted, just as they would have
for Ellen.  My arms went around his waist.
     His mouth was hard.  His face was slightly scratchy.  His
tongue was quick, agile, demanding.  He ground his face against
mine and took my mouth with his own.  There was no way I could
pretend it was my wife.  His swollen groin was tight against my
belly.  When I pulled away, he relented, released me.  My
lipstick decorated him like an indelible stain, yet it vanished
completely as he transferred it to his white silk handkerchief. 
Did he have a wife who'd notice it, I wondered stupidly, then
tore my eyes away.
     Ellen was completing the lie.  Her desire-bruised lips were
slightly blurred, just as mine must be.  I could make no sense of
her words, just waited patiently for her to finish.  My man was
saying something.  I smiled mechanically, my thundering pulse
drowning out all sound.  When Ellen turned, so did I.  We made
our escape.
     All I remember about the long trip back to the car is the
way my body moved.  The plug buried in my ass caressed me with
every short stride.  My hips felt loose, and I knew they swayed
sexily.  I didn't care.  I felt my breast forms bounce every time
my high heels jarred against the terrazzo floor.  I felt the
breeze of my movement lick my sleek thighs, my long hair tickle
my shoulders, the faint weight of the heavy earrings.  The
corset's tightness was reassuring.  My stone hard little cock,
aimed toward my warm ass cheeks, rubbed slightly between my
thighs.  I was as drunk on sensation as I was on liquor.
     I remember more about the drive home.  I vividly recall
burying my face between Ellen's wantonly spread thighs as she sat
behind the wheel.  I knew the windows were tinted and that my act
would be unseen, but I'd have done it anyway.  I sucked and
nibbled her through two restrained orgasms and was working toward
a third by the time we achieved the garage.  She drug me away
from her gaping cunt long enough to slide the seat back, then
fucked my face with crazed abandon, beating my chin with her
hips.  I don't think she was even aware she was speaking.
     "Oh, fuck me with that slutty tongue, baby.  Stick it deep
in me, just like you did Cindy's nasty little hole.  I almost
died when you came out with your clit and balls dangling down and
your cum still in your hot little whore's mouth.  I saw how you
kissed that guy, cunt.  You loved it.  You let him tongue fuck
your mouth, didn't you, you nasty little slut?  You felt how hard
you made his big cock, didn't you?  Every time you smoked, it was
like you were sucking a dick.  The way you strutted through the
mall turned you on, didn't it?  It made you feel like a tramp,
didn't it?  You loved every minute of the whole fucking day,
didn't you, baby?"
     There was more.  It was like each accusation, each question
drove me deeper into her slick slit.  It was all true, every word
of it.  And I wasn't ashamed.  I felt no guilt.  She was proud of
me.  This was what she wanted.  Atop my lust was an overlay of
gratitude.  I trusted her.  She knew what I wanted, what I
needed.  When she finally exploded, she did so with violence. 
She twisted my head, crushed my skull, jerked madly on my hair. 
I felt my own orgasm trying to fill my panties, and somehow
managed to deny it.  She hadn't given me permission.
     The instant she threw me away from her, I rawly begged her
to let me finish myself.  I was writhing with need, had to made
fists of my hands to keep them from my silky center.
     Ellen sprawled obscenely against the driver's door, her
dress around her waist, her heavy tits exposed.  Her nipples were
immense.  Her cunt lips still pulsed.  Her makeup was intact,
although she'd gotten lipstick on her teeth from biting her lower
lip.  She stared at me, had trouble lighting a cigarette.
     "Put your feet on the dashboard," she growled.  "Open your
legs as far as you can."
     I scrambled to do what she wanted.
     "Reach down and show me your clit."
     I jerked the panties away, loosed my purpled member from the
restrainer, displayed it, gasping, trying not to blow at the
wonderful thrills created by my touches.
     "Bend forward as far as you can, slut.  Try to suck it. 
Jack yourself off.  Shoot straight into your mouth."
     I couldn't force the corset to bend much more and I whined
in frustration.  She helped me, grabbing my ankles, forcing my
knees higher.  It felt like I was being cut in half.
     "Open those slimy lips, whore, and do it."
     Two seconds later, I erupted.  A gout of sperm splatted
against my forehead.  A second struck my lower lip.  The third
landed on my heaving chest.  The rest simply drooled over my
pumping fist.  The instant she released me, I started scooping up
the fragrant, warm cum, eating it like it was my favorite candy,
wishing there was more.
     "Good, baby," she cooed, "but not good enough.  Let's get
you inside.  I've got something I need to show you." 

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an222260@anon.penet.fi (Tristmegistus)
Date: Sun,  6 Aug 1995 11:43:00 UTC
Subject:       Tristmegistis: The Surprise Vacation 7/10 (TG+)


	As always, I'll utterly ignore any posting to this group 
requesting reposts.  If you want to e-mail me with comments, I'll 
welcome them, even send you the file direct, if I have time - but don't 
offend all the other readers with your insipid, thoughtless, 
inconsiderate, unwelcome public nattering.  Clear enough?

                    HOME SWEET HOME

     Later - much later, emotionally, if not by the clock - Ellen
helped me to bed.  I needed every bit of assistance I could get. 
I'd been tied in a position similar to, though more relaxed than
the torturous bent forward stance she'd employed the night
before, and she'd taught me two very important lessons.  I was
more accustomed to the squeeze of the corset and the angle of the
high heels, so that part of it wasn't nearly as agonizing.  The
rest of the punishment, though, was much vicious than merely
being spanked.
     Ellen's first exercise was designed to illustrate how to
suck cock.  She employed a strap-on dildo, one end of which was
buried in the denuded cunt still bearing my lipstick, and
demanded that I perform fellatio on her until my jaws ached and
the back of my mouth was raw.  Begging her not to abuse my throat
had proven worse than useless.  As she tapped her false cock
against my sealed red lips, she reminded me of my vow to do
anything to earn her forgiveness.  Would I prefer it if she went
to some bar and picked up a stranger equipped with the real thing
and brought him home for me?  She'd be happy to drop to her knees
in front of me and lick its length, kiss its swollen head, and
demonstrate first hand how it should be done, if I wanted that. 
My answer was to part my lips and ask her to tell me what to do.
     The second lesson was how to take the same device, thickly
greased, up my stretched asshole.  Relax, she'd urged as she
pushed into me, and enjoy it.  The physical pain was much less
than I expected.  The butt plug must have opened me up quite
well, and the alcohol had deadened me.  The emotional trauma was
much more severe.
     My wife fucked my virgin ass - my cunt, she called it, her
throat clogged with lust - until the pressure of the dildo
against her clit made her cum.  By then I was so delirious that I
could almost feel the rubber dong pulse and ripple in my gut as
if it was expelling a huge load of sperm deep into me.
     Both were punishment for my slutty behavior at the beauty
salon, fulfillment of her earlier vow to treat me like a whore if
I acted like one.  After her orgasm had eased, she gently
withdrew her cock from me and wiped it clean.  As she used the
warm, damp cloth to remove the messy lubricant from my fiery red
lower cheeks, she reached beneath me and fondled my engorged
cock, murmuring that I'd earned a reward.  My hips resumed the
thrust they'd learned while she'd fucked me, and I watched
enthralled from between my spread, chained, hose clad legs, as
her hand glided over my long flesh, massaging it against the
latex prick, heated by my bowels and still strapped to her.  I
shrieked as I came, shooting my jism all over her hand and the
dildo.
     When she moved back to my head, she didn't need to order me
to lick the shaft and her hand clean.  That I was hungrily
licking real cum from a cock shaped toy was an irony that wasn't
wasted on me.
     Again I slept on the floor, chained to the bed frame,
dressed in the loosened corset and a different teddy.  Ellen had
coaxed my stunned brain through the laborious process of removing
all my makeup, explaining that it wasn't good for my complexion
to sleep in it, and showing me exactly how I needed to care for
my skin.  I voided my violated bowels and easily returned the ass
plug to its home.  In my exhaustion, even my color-stripped face
looked wholly female.  I still felt drunk, or drugged.  I
wondered why I hadn't seen how feminine my were features before,
how I had truly been a woman awaiting her rebirth all my life.
     I silently cried myself to sleep, not because I was pain
wracked from her violation of me, not due to the cruelty of
having every possible trace of my masculinity erased - but
because I'd loved almost everything that'd happened to me, the
whole day long.  My thoughts weren't about how I could restore
myself back into maleness after my two week surprise vacation
ended, but rather to pray that I could somehow extend it forever.
     It'd taken Ellen just over thirty-six hours to reveal, to
myself and the world at large, a side of myself I'd barely dared
to even fantasize about.  While I'd sneakily worn her panties and
dresses, this was what I'd wanted.  It'd been too horrifying, too
perverse to admit, even in the darkest recesses of my mind.
     Even as I was wracked by silent sobs, I was wondering what
my wife had in mind for the next day.  I knew that, no matter
what I said, no matter how strenuously I objected, I'd welcome
whatever she made me do, no matter how degrading.
     My eagerness had passed by morning.  The pain that hadn't
been there the night before throbbed in my ass, burned in the
back of my mouth.  My calves, feet, and the small of my back were
incredibly sore from wearing the tall heels all day.  My scalp
itched like mad under the permanently affixed wig.  I had a
hangover that felt like some insane blacksmith was at work at an
anvil between my ears.  My stomach growled with both hunger and
nausea.
     When Ellen released me, she didn't bother with shackles.  I
staggered into the bathroom barefoot to take care of essential
business.  Unlike the morning before, I couldn't bring myself to
stand to urinate.  I told myself that was because I was so sick,
and knew it was a lie.  I sat on the toilet ring because it
would've been too shameful to act like I was still a man.  My
penis and testicles were the only part of me that looked male,
and I couldn't bear the thought of peeing the old way.  It
would've been shamefully hypocritical, a senseless denial of what
had already become my reality.
     A long hot soak in a fragrant tub eased my physical woes,
and a real, if low-fat, breakfast lessened my psychic ones. 
Ellen weighed me.  I was astonished to see that I'd already lost
five pounds.  Her warning that the next fifteen would be harder
wasn't lost on me.  I swallowed my big "vitamin" with mixed
feelings.  I'd become aware how the large dose of hormones had
already affected my body.  Part of me wished I could swallow the
entire bottle and accelerate the changes taking place.  The other
part was ashamed to tears of that perverse desire.
     She had me dress in the black corset, but left it moderately
loose, and had me cover it with the first casual clothes I'd worn
in what seemed forever.  The new designer jeans were satisfyingly
tight, and the three inch heels were as easy to move in as tennis
shoes had been in my old life.  I thought the green cotton blouse
was flattering with the gold choker in place of the leather
collar I'd been wearing for the last two days.  The only makeup
she allowed me was lipstick and mascara, which I had to do
myself.
     I was still a pretty young woman, but one more suited to
keeping house than teasing cock at the mall.  With rubber gloves
protecting my too-long nails, I set about cleaning the house with
more gusto than I'd ever felt before.
     It was a purely domestic day, as were most of the two which
followed.  There were no outrageous outside adventures.  No
shopping.  No drinks at bars.  No scenes with other women - or
men.
     Ellen developed a routine for me.  There were exercises
designed to limber me as well as work off pounds, without
building ugly muscles.  There were daily lessons in feminine
behavior and voice sessions every afternoon.  I gave myself two
enemas every day.  While grocery shopping - our only trip out of
the house during those three quiet days - my wife bought me a
videotape on cosmetics and demanded I memorize it, as well as
read every magazine article I could find on the same topic.
     My feminine lifestyle quickly became second nature.  I got
so used to my long silvery hair that I couldn't imagine having
ever been without it.  I found I could do everything with my long
painted nails that I'd done before.  The aches in my leg and back
muscles eased and being without high heels didn't feel normal. 
During rare moments without breast forms and a butt plug, I felt
like I'd been stripped of vital parts of myself.
     That was one of the most effective ways Ellen punished me. 
After breaking one of our wedding wine glasses while unloading
the dishwasher, she angrily took off all my clothes and made me
continue my chores nude except for five inch heels and heavy
rubber gloves.  I hated the way my cock and balls dangled,
slapped against my smooth, hairless thighs with every step.  I
felt fat and ugly with no corset to give me the lovely shape I
identified with.  After an hour, I was in tears, begging her to
let me stretch my retainer over my male organs and lace me back
into a corset.
     She was lounging in a hot bath while I cleaned the toilet
and tile floor.  "You've broken something irreplaceable, Sheila. 
We toasted one another with that glass at our wedding reception. 
After having destroyed a symbol of our marriage, you ask me to
lighten your punishment?"
     "Just change it," I said in my more refined female voice. 
"Please, Ellen.  This is too . . . too -"
     "Humiliating?  Disgraceful?" she mocked.
     I nodded, unable to meet her eyes.
     "If I let you start making amends, will you do everything I
say for the rest of the day without hesitation?  No matter what
it is?"
     "Yes!  I promise!"
     She lay in the steaming water with her eyes closed for a
moment.  A smile grew on her face.  "Run to the vanity and bring
back your favorite lipstick, doll."
     I took her order literally.  Running in the tall heels was
more scamper than trot, but I'd become used to their limitations.
     "Lay on your back on the floor."
     The tile was cold.
     "Raise your knees and spread your legs so you can see your
clit.  Good girl.  Take off your gloves.  Now paint it with the
lipstick.  All of it.  I want it to be fuscia from top to
bottom."
     I stretched it, stroked the tube of vivid color up and down. 
It hardened as I did, exposing yet more surface area to be
coated.  She climbed from the tub, stood at my feet as I
finished.
     "Do your mouth, baby.  Smear it on heavy."
     The chills racing through me weren't caused by the cool
floor.  I ran the lipstick over my mouth again and again until
she nodded approval.
     "Now jack off, bitch."  She grabbed my ankles and bent me
double, pushing my knees as wide as they'd go.  My shaft felt
greasy in my palm, which was instantly coated with bright color. 
She strained my back and neck muscles until they screamed with
pain, leaning all her weight on my comma shaped body, forcing my
cock closer and closer to my face.
     "Pull your plug, cunt.  Fuck your ass with the lipstick. 
No!  Leave the cap off the tube!"
     The plug came out with the usual wet sensation.  It was
larger than the lipstick, which slid easily inside my loosened
hole.  I held it so I could see the dark plastic holder go in and
out.  My hand was a blur on my dick.  Slowly, my strained muscles
let it come still closer to my slick red lips.
     "Lick it, whore."
     I strained my tongue as far as possible, but it wasn't far
enough.  I was an inch away from the smeared, swollen purplish-
red tip.
     "Cum, lover.  Shoot every drop right in your slutty little
mouth."
     As if her command was enough to make me explode, I did
precisely what she demanded.  The closeup sight of my expanding,
pulsing prick, the vision of the first gout of sperm being
expelled, the shocking sensation of my cum spattering inside my
gaping mouth - these factors seemed to quadruple the intensity of
my orgasm, send me into a realm beyond anything I'd ever
imagined.  At that instant, my tongue somehow managed to make
contact with my leaping cock.  
     Something happened deep within my soul.  Something
irreversible.  It was like an electrical circuit had been closed,
a psychic switch flipped.  An all new energy burned through me. 
It was entirely my imagination, but I felt the whole length of my
dick slide between my lips, into my mouth, down my throat.  All
this in the split second before the second burst of cum hit my
hard palate, instantly followed by the third and fourth.  By
then, my entire body was involved in the mind-boggling climax. 
My ass was spasming around the lipstick tube, squeezing it like a
pussy does a cock.  My hips were desperately trying to fuck my
mouth.
     As the surges began to fade, my universe expanded beyond my
body.  I heard my harsh gasps for air, Ellen's thick voiced
encouragements.  The heel of one of my red shoes was buried in
her cunt.  But, above all, the wonderful ripeness of my cum
coated my mouth and tongue and soul.  I'd been made whole.  A
single touch of tongue to cock had made all the difference in the
world.
     I caught the last oozes and dribbles in my cupped palm,
milked my staff with my lipstick covered fist, and licked it
clean with a voracious hunger.  I'd stepped over a precipice and
was still falling.  My taste had been whetted, not appeased.  I
wanted more - craved a steady flow of sperm down my throat, not
the teasing appetizer I'd given myself.  I knew I'd gone mad and
I welcomed it.
     Ellen disrupted my delirious reverie by lifting herself off
my spike heel and dropping my rubbery legs.  She fell atop me,
her hips thrusting incoherently against my shrinking dick, her
lips devouring mine, her tongue frantic to share the flavor of my
sperm.  I felt the lipstick tube slip from my ass.  I opened my
jaws to my wife, letting her lap from my cavity like a dog does
from a bowl.  She too was cumming, using my spent rod to rub her
clit.
     When she abruptly jerked away from me, her face bore an
expression that was as crazed as mine must have been.  Her voice
was low and raw.  "Wash the slime off your face and hands, whore. 
Leave everything else exactly as it is and have your nasty ass in
the bedroom in three minutes."
     She bolted from the bathroom like a berserker before I could
move.  Every muscle in my body was relaxed.  Pushing myself to my
knees took a massive effort.  But I could almost hear a clock
ticking off the seconds in my head.  I was infected by her wild
energy.  I scrubbed at my face and hands, whining with
frustration at the stubbornness of the lipstick's stains.
     I had no idea if I met her deadline.  Neither did Ellen. 
She was throwing clothes at the bed as I hurried on wobbly legs
into the bedroom.
     "Get dressed, you sleazy cunt."
     I tried to be careful not to smear my lipsticked cock and
ass on my hands as I arranged my organs in the tight grip of the
retainer.  I squirmed into the red corset while she lit a
cigarette and stared at me through narrowed, smoldering eyes.  I
rolled up equally red hose, stepped into scarlet bikini panties. 
I looked around for an ass plug.  There was none.  I looked at
her helplessly, seeking guidance.
     She grabbed the laces of the corset and began hooking me
into it.  Never had she used such strength, restrained me so
impossibly tight.  Even without the gel filled breast forms, my
tit flesh bulged into the cups.  My nipples were nearly as
swollen as my wife's.  And I wished it was tighter still.  I
ached for my tits to fill the cups to overflowing.
     She tied me off and roughly pushed me toward the vanity. 
"Paint yourself, slut.  We're going out.  We're going to get you
laid for real.  Make yourself look like the whore you are,
Sheila.  If you don't use enough makeup, I'll make you watch
while some real man drills my cunt, then make you lick his cum
out of me."
     I was utterly infected.  I wanted that.  I wanted to lay
helplessly beside her while a long fat prick drilled her wet
pussy.  I wanted to hear her cries, watch her humping, spasming
body.  My mouth watered at the thought of tasting her cum mixed
with someone's sperm.  It would've been more like reward than
punishment.
     I created a face just as slutty as she wanted because I
wanted it as much as she did - maybe even more.  I felt hollow,
empty.  I was going to be fucked.  By a man.
     "Good," she growled, rubbing her cunt against the back of my
head.  She ran a dildo over my cheek.  "Use this on yourself
while I do my makeup.  Don't even think about cumming again."
     I flopped on the bed, curled my