A Submissive Sissy

Here you'll find my favorites Sissy & Femdom stories, the best one I've ever read over the net since many years and believe me, that's a lot ! I'm also a wool fetishist, so you may come accross this type of topic around here too... Hope you'll like it !


Sissy Sister Husbands

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Tessa had been gradually cutting her husband Max off from sex and, at the same time, feminizing him. Now, after three months, he was desperate for relief and accustomed to wearing panties and other female items all the time. His wife decided it was time to take him to the next level. She knew the perfect person to help her do that. It was her friend Marie. Who could be more perfect? After all, it was Marie who had given Tessa the idea to change Max. In fact, Marie had been doing the same to her own husband, Hank, for a full six months.

"B... but, Honey," Max whimpered in the soft girlish voice he had to use whenever he was alone with his wife. "I don't want anyone else to see me like this."

She glanced over from the driver's seat of her car and considered. He was in male clothes and had a short haircut. But his eyes and lips had been touched lightly with cosmetics and, after months of using a depilatory, there was no sign of facial hair. His small hands were folded neatly on his lap, one of the affectations she insisted he display. He bit his lower lip and looked at her pleadingly, but she had returned her gaze to the road. They were driving through a quaint suburb and she pulled up in front of one of the split-level homes.

Tessa got out of the car and stood there with her hands on her hips. She was tall and full-figured, wearing a long leather coat and high boots. Her black hair was pulled back and arranged in a bun. She glared at her husband and said, "Let's go... Maxine."

He hated to be called by his female name. But she had so emasculated him in the preceding months that he never objected to it, or to most of the things she did. He slid out of the car and followed her, staying three paces behind. He took delicate steps and swayed his narrow hips. Max was shorter than his wife, slender, and small-boned. He had been ideal for dressing up. At the front door Tessa rang the bell, not even bothering to check on her spouse or speak to him. He waited silently, dreading having one of her woman friends see how she had changed him.

Max was shocked when the door was opened by a man. He was even more surprised to see that the guy looked much like himself, short and slim, with a male haircut but obvious hints of make-up. He had on a short robe which left his legs bare, revealing that they were encased in offwhite stockings. On his feet were ballet slippers. He blushed -- some might say prettily -- and asked Tessa to please come in, using the same faint voice that Max did.

The unmanly figure led them to steps, and down them to a recreation room. A woman was sitting on the sofa and she got up at once, greeting Tessa with familiarity. They hugged and Max heard his bride address the other as Marie. They were both the same height and had similarly buxom figures. Max felt a thrill run through him as he watched them hug, their large breasts pressed together. His little penis twitched inside the snug panties he wore. He turned his eyes to the other husband, hoping for some help, but the robed figure was waiting obediently, arms down and hands together in front of him.

Marie stepped back from her friend and they sat at either end of the sofa. The homeowner snapped her fingers at her husband and ordered, "Hanna, get my guest and I some wine."

As he scurried away, bottom wagging, Tessa told Max, "Let Marie have a better look at you, Maxine. Get out of those male clothes. You look foolish in them anyway. Hurry up."

For half a second he froze. Then he removed his jacket and draped it over the back of a wooden chair. His fingers went to the buttons on his shirt and soon he had that off, folded neatly on the seat of the chair. He didn't want the attractive woman with his wife to see that he had absolutely no hair on his upper body, but what choice did he have? Max slipped off his loafers and set them under the chair. He hesitantly undid his belt, unfastened his trousers, and got out of them. All he had on was a pair of high-cut, pale yellow panties, with cartoon kitty cat faces on them. He stood there, knees together, fingertips on his thighs, trying not to fidget. He heard his wife refer to the other man as 'Hank'.

Hank returned carrying a round serving tray, on which were a bottle of wine and two glasses. Marie poured drinks and Max longingly eyed the pink liquid. One of the methods his wife used to control him was to regulate everything he ate and drank. She might sit in their breakfast nook before work, nibbling a cheese Danish and enjoying a mug of hot coffee, while her spouse was limited to a few slivers of carrot and a dainty cup of tea. The women took their glasses and turned to each other.

"To turning our husbands into sissies," declared Marie.

"And to keeping them that way," added Tessa.

They leaned toward each other, clinked their glasses together and took small swallows. The men stood by uncomfortably. Max couldn't keep himself from squirming.

"Oh my," Marie commented. "It looks like your pretty little thing is chilly." To her husband she said, "Hanna, get your new friend one of your robes. Make it the one with the pretty flowers."

Hank whisked out of the room and, minutes later, returned carrying a brief satiny robe. His wife ordered him to put it onto the newcomer. He went behind Max, who reluctantly repositioned his arms while the short sleeves were slipped over them. Max didn't know if it was worse to be exposed or to have to wear something that made him look like a sissy seductress. Marie told her husband to smooth it over Max's narrow shoulders. As he did it, both men shuddered. They had never had maleon -male physical contact like that.

"Hanna," Marie decided out loud. "Maxine would look fetching in a pair of stockings like you have on. Hurry and find some for her."

When Hank returned this time he appeared especially uncomfortable. Max understood why when the man's wife gave her next commands.

She said, "Now Maxine, you sit on that chair where those male clothes are. Don't worry about setting your pretty bottom on that shirt. You're not going to be wearing it anytime soon. And Hanna, help your new sweetie on with those stockings. Be very careful, so there won't be even a single wrinkle."

Hank bit his lips as he knelt in front of Max and began the uneasy task. Both husbands were visibly unhappy to be in such a potentially intimate situation with each other. It was bad enough to be denied their places in the bedroom, and to have to wear lingerie and cosmetics. But the thought of touching, putting items of apparel on each other, or whatever else might follow, horrified them.

When Hank had knelt, his tiny robe rode up, showing off thong panties. They were so tight and clingy in the front that it was obvious that his genitals were as undersized as Max's. He got the toe of one stocking over Max's foot and began working it up his smooth leg. After month's of sexual teasing and denial, Max couldn't control his body's reaction. His little dick got hard inside his panties, pushing out at their thin material. He whimpered from shame. Hank tried to avert his eyes from the mini-erection but couldn't keep himself from looking at it. His fingers trembled so much that the job took twice as long as it should have. When he stroked Max's legs to assure that the stockings had no wrinkles -- none were visible but the wives kept insisting that they spied some -- he too became unwantedly aroused.

"Very nice," Marie at last concluded. "Now Hanna, take your friend to your bedroom and show her your nighties. Especially the really sexy ones." She chuckled nastily. "We'll be along in a bit, after we chat some more."

Max started to rise, awkwardly, and by reflex Hank held out his hand. Max took it and was helped to his feet. They stood there, hand in hand, with the wives looking on approvingly. Afraid to displease the women, the husbands continued to hold hands as they left the room, their backsides swaying. The females (the real ones) giggled at the sight and looked at each other meaningfully. After their spouses were out of earshot, they began to talk in earnest.

In the bedroom, the two embarrassed men stood there, feeling as mortified as they appeared. Finally, in a strained whisper, Hank said, "I'm sorry I had to touch you like that. My wife can be so... wicked."

"I understand," Max assured him. "It's the same way at our house. Or rather, HER house. But this is the first time I've been with another man." He realized how that might sound ... 'been with another man' ... and blushed furiously. "I mean, it's the first time... That is..."

"It's alright," Hank said sympathetically. "I understand."

Their eyes met for a moment and then they both looked away, unsure about what they had just felt. Hank went to his dresser, which was painted white, with overdone gold trim, and opened the wide middle drawer. Arrayed inside was a collection of nightwear. Right in the center were several baby-doll nighties, and it was to these that his small hands unerringly went.

He said, "I think these are what my wife wants me to show you."

Max gazed at them and took a deep breath, saying, "I imagine they are." It was strange for him to be having this conversation, especially because both of them were using those gentle high voices.

Hank took one of the filmy garments and handed it to Max, then selected another to hold himself. They raised them up in front of themselves so each could examine the other's. After months of wearing female items, they had developed critical eyes. In spite of his discomfort, Hank struck a hip-cocked pose behind his pale blue choice. Max held his peach colored one against his chest, swinging side-to-side which made the ruffled hem shift around. They tittered at how silly their actions made them look. That was when the wives stepped through the doorway. Had they been peeking? Did they see those demonstrations of just how far their men had been conditioned?

"All right," Marie said, not giving any clues. "You may each pick one... for the other to wear. Hanna, dearest, take out several more and lay them on your lovely bedspread."

He picked another half dozen -- someone seeing that might have said that he was doing more than was required, that he was almost enjoying himself -- and spread each one out carefully. Max ran his fingertips over them, gasping at how soft they were, putting his other hand to his breast in a rather theatrical gesture. The women smirked at how far away they had taken their husbands from their manhood. After much fussing, the sissy husbands made their choices.

Tessa told them, "Now remove each other's robes. And then each of you dress your... special friend... in what you've picked for her."

Color rose to the men's cheeks again as they meticulously performed the operations. Off came the robes and on went the nighties, with much arranging and rearranging, the adjustments being made by nimble hands. At last both were done and stood there, holding the bottoms of their nighties, looking like two good little girls.

"You did a wonderful job for each other, selecting what to wear and putting it on. Now how do you thank each other?"

In small voices the husbands said the expected words.

"And," Marie wanted to know, "how ELSE do you thank each other?"

The sweetly attired pair looked to each other and then to their wives, not sure of the correct response. At last Tessa offered helpfully, "You should give each other a nice kiss. At the very least. Now come on. Pucker up those pretty lips."

Feeling helpless to disobey, broken down by months of training, yet still reluctant to take this new step, the husbands stood in front of each other, lips pursed, but did nothing else. Their wives moved behind them and firmly moved them closer, holding the backs of their necks and cupping their chins in their palms, to urge them to bring their mouths together. Max moaned and Hank tried to pull back, but it was too late. Their lips met and they kissed. It was brief and their mouths never opened.

"That was good," Marie approved. "For a start."

Tessa sneered at the husbands. "Honestly. It's obvious you want to share a long deep kiss. Now stop denying yourselves. It's OUR job to deny you... in bed. Go on, girls. Open up and let your tongues get to know each other."

The guys looked appalled and yet, because they had already kissed, albeit rather chastely, refusal was not an option. Their wide-hipped, big-bottomed wives waited expectantly. The underendowed men moved their faces closer together, this time without any assistance. They were both on the verge of tears but even so they parted their lips and took the plunge. Suddenly they were kissing passionately, holding each other's upper arms, their narrow chests pressed together. Both of them were hard again and, without thinking, desperate for stimulation, they ground their crotches against each other. They hated what they were doing but couldn't stop themselves.

It went on for a full minute before, at the same time, they came to their senses and separated. They looked at their wives, as if to ask if that had been enough.

"Poor babies," Marie said. "I think they've exhausted themselves."

"It's true," Tessa agreed. "The two of them should take a nap... together... in Hanna's bed."

The bed had a canopy and a ruffled skirt. Under the eyes of their wives, the men got onto the down comforter and lay facing each other. Marie made them hold hands. Tessa said they should rub noses.

"Isn't that sweet?" Marie asked. "Our little girls have become friends."

"Mmm. Friends with sleepovers, maybe."

The light was turned off and the women departed. The men lay there, still gripping each other's hands, confused by everything that had just happened.

Back in the recreation room, the women poured more wine and sipped it.

"What do you think?" Tessa wanted to know. "Are they in there hugging and kissing? Have we gotten them to that point yet?"

"I'm pretty sure they're not. But we've taken them far enough for now. They had their first kiss and that's what's important. You could see that both of them were turned on. That'll happen if you tease them and don't let them get off for as long as we have. Now we should just let them stew in their guilt and uncertainty. When we're ready, we can push them to the next level and the next and the one after that. What we've started, they can't stop. Only we can do that."

"And I certainly don't intend to. I want to turn them into lovers, with all kinds of nasty sex games and perversions."

"Definitely. I want to get them so hooked that, later on, we can offer to take everything back to where it was in the beginning, and they'll be too far gone to accept. They won't like it that we've made them into full-time sissy girls, but they'll be hooked on it and not able to be real men again... ever."

"That'll be perfect. Get them addicted to frilly clothes and perfume and making up each other's faces. Plus lots more. I can't wait."

"I can't wait either. But it'll be so much more fun if we do wait, and watch them lose touch with their male selves one day at a time, over the next weeks and months and years. It's going to be so much fun."

They raised their glasses once more and toasted to the endless fun and amusement of turning their spouses into complete and helplessly trapped sissies.

"Matilda!" Lena snapped. "Is that bathroom cleaned yet?"

Of course it wasn't, Matt thought miserably as he knelt on the cold hard floor, in front of the toilet, laboring with sponge and brush to finish his work in the insufficient time his wife had given him. He turned his head toward the door and called out, loudly but still sounding very girlish, "Almost, dear. I'm just doing the... commode."

He heard her laugh. That hurt. But when she had lambasted him last year, a mere month after their wedding, for having a small penis, no staying power in bed, and a total lack of lovemaking technique, he had caved in emotionally, knowing it was all true. He had broken down and cried, swearing that he would do whatever she said to make it right, to prevent her from having the marriage annulled. Matt couldn't have endured that. Not having his stepmother see him fail with yet another woman, having the female who had tamed his father so completely bring Matt back under her influence, so that she could finish ruining his life. His stepmother had undermined his confidence devastatingly, and now he had to escape her power and make a new life.

Well, he had avoided separation from Lena, but at an impossibly high cost. She had insisted that he become virtually a slave to her, doing all the housework and handing over all the money, even having their property put solely in her name. Worse, she had carried her control over him to the marriage bed, demanding that he serve her orally, in any way she chose, and that she not have to do anything for him in return. Matt had become her pussy boy, licking her to one orgasm after another, while she made herself laugh by getting him overexcited and then not letting him ejaculate. The longer she kept that up, the more desperately pliable he became.

Once he had become putty in her plump hands, she enacted her masterstroke. Or maybe it should be called her Mistress-stroke. Lena began to feminize him, making him wear panties at all times, often having him in stockings, and putting him more and more frequently into high heels and corsets. At the same time, she decreed that he must address her as 'Mistress', while she would call him Matilda instead of Matt. He was crushed but by then too beaten to resist. She continued to make him over, soon adding make-up and having him let his hair grow, even having his ears pierced. And so it was that, after 13 months, he was totally under her thumb. Matt thought it couldn't get any worse but he was wrong.

"We're having company over," she called to him. "So I want everything spotless."

What? She was having a visitor? He didn't want one of her girlfriends to see him like this. Maybe she intended to allow him to put on some male outerwear over what he had on. But he doubted that. Lena was openly mean to him, doing whatever she could to keep his ego crushed and to make him ever more dependent on her. He rushed to finish his lavatory cleaning, fretting all the while about having someone other than his wife see him in his 'pretty things'. When he was finally done, Matt put away his cleaning supplies and checked himself in the fulllength mirror. His collar-length hair still had some waves in it and his lipstick and eye shadow were still presentable. All he had on were snug yoga pants and a midriff-baring exercise top. He frowned at how unmanly he appeared, sighed, and went to his bride for further instructions.

"Dear," he said cautiously, not wanting to upset her. "Did you want me to... um... wear anything special?"

She was lounging in the big leather recliner, which had been his gift to both of them when they got married. Except that, when she tore him down that first time, she took full possession of the piece of furniture, with the understanding that he was never to sit on it. Lena lay there, her voluptuous curves shown off by the sheath dress that she wore. It was short enough that her full thighs were mostly uncovered, and low-cut enough that her substantial bosom threatened to pop out.

Lena gave him a smug look and said, "I want you to look special for my guest. Why don't you wear...?" She mused for a moment. Instead of allowing him the male attire he so urgently wanted to don, she decided, "... wear that yummy outfit I ordered you on-line. The one that arrived the other day." His appalled expression was answered with a curled lip. "What? Are you telling me 'no'? Are you?"

He backed down immediately. "Of course not, Mistress. I always do what you say." He could feel the shriveled remains of his pride growing even more stunted. "I'll go and get a shower?" He didn't do anything without checking first.

She waved her hand and said, "Whatever. Just be ready by eight. Ready to answer the door."

He cringed. Not only was he going to have to wear the most shameful clothes he owned, but he was going to have to greet her visitor in them. Maybe even be seen through the open door by someone on the street. Unable to speak, he just nodded and hurried away. In the shower he made sure to use heavily scented shampoo and soap. After he dried off he powdered himself, at the same time checking to make sure that there wasn't a single hair growing anywhere below his eyebrows. Then he wrapped himself in two large fluffy towels and went to the storage room that had been converted into his bedroom. It was cramped, but he had to know exactly where to find every piece of his unwanted female clothing. He went straight to the closet and found what she expected him to wear... and be seen in.

He laid the clothes on his narrow bed and stood there, his face looking like one of those Japanese masks that symbolizes sadness. Lying there were a tiny top with puffy shoulders and no-midriff. Alongside it was a pleated mini-micro-skirt. There were also fishnet stockings and sexy high heels with plastic gemstones on them. He was going to look like something between a horny schoolgirl and a tacky hooker. On top of everything else, the outfit didn't include panties. Matt's lower lip trembled as he stood there wringing his hands. But what else could he do? The defeated husband sighed and began to get dressed. After he had everything on, he checked himself in the full length mirror that his wife had gotten hung by the closet, so that he would always be able to see what she had made him into. Now it was especially disturbing. With his short hair, despite his rather girlish figure, it was obvious he was a guy.

Matt turned to his dresser and the cosmetics that were arrayed along its top. Above them was -- what else? -- another mirror. With practiced skill he applied fresh lipstick and added eyeliner. After further consideration, he used shadow to give the illusion of strong cheekbones on his soft face. Lena didn't allow him to have a clock, so he was always afraid he was taking too long. Giving himself one more check in the bigger mirror, he left the room and went to her for inspection. She chortled at how trashy he looked and told him to go wait by the front door. He stood there, shifting his feet uneasily, feeling how the heels shaped his legs and made him stand differently. He finally relaxed for a few seconds, but his ease was short-lived.

The doorbell rang and he flinched violently. With a quivering hand he opened the door. His eyes went wide as he saw not only one woman, which was what he had expected, but two tall brawny men in muscle shirts and worn jeans. Behind them cowered another figure, a small man like himself, wrapped in a blanket, his face stigmatized by make-up like Matt's. The first three barged inside, pushing aside their greeter. The woman was zaftig like Lena, with a full cruel mouth and long redgold hair pulled up into a tight bun. Trailing them, the frightened man stepped forward gingerly on flashy heels. As soon as the door was closed, one of the hulking men grabbed his blanket and yanked it away.

The short man stood revealed in a belly shirt with the word GIRL emblazoned across it in swirling letters. He wore an itty-bitty skirt under which, Matt strongly suspected, he too was naked. He had black stockings that had been torn to reveal plenty of pale skin. Lena came to meet them and gave the other woman a warm hug, calling her Barb. Then the new woman introduced the men, her new boyfriend Jeb and his buddy Roy. Barb gave Roy's impressive bicep a squeeze and said that he was the guy she wanted Lena to get to know. Matt's wife stepped close to him and opened her arms. He grinned at her as they embraced and his large hands slid down her back to feel her well padded backside. She responded by grinding her crotch against him.

Matt was stricken with jealousy. His stomach rolled over as the pair continued to hold onto each other. Then Lena glared at him and said he should get four beers from the fridge. He answered with a meek 'Yes, Mistress' and started away.

Jeb wanted to know, "What about Charlie-girl?"

Barb snapped at the feminized man, "Go with that other sissy, Charlene. It'll probably take two of you to carry that many brews."

The foursome laughed and headed for the den. Matt and Charlie eyed each other with deep empathy. Obviously they were in the same unsettling situation. They got the cans of beer, each holding two, and minced to the den, both of them well trained in maintaining a feminine gait. They respectfully handed out the drinks to the couples sitting on the long sofa and then stepped back as the men and women popped the tops and drank.

Lena snapped, "Matilda! Charlene! Kneel in front of us. Right next to each other, so we can do a comparison. We'll see if we can tell which one is the biggest wimp."

The husbands sank to their knees, tugging down the fronts of their brief skirts but unable to prevent them from riding up. Charlie mewled sadly. Matt sniffled.

"Aw," said Roy. "The girls are worried that something bad is going to happen to them. Come on, you weakling faggots. Put an arm around each other's scrawny shoulders."

"And hold hands," Jeb added.

Hesitantly, the kneeling pair each curled one arm around the other's shoulders, and then joined their free hands. That provoked chuckles from the watchers. Matt blushed and saw Charlie doing the same. This was beyond humiliating. Having his wife with another man was a fresh disturbance. He watched helplessly as she put her hand on Roy's firm thigh and slid it higher. Roy smirked at Matt as he massaged the back of Lena's neck with his strong fingers and she leaned against him. She turned her face up, closed her eyes sensually, and parted her plump lips. He brought his face close to hers and they kissed, in no hurry to finish. Matt felt cold inside. He wanted to do something to stop them, but instead just gave his hips a wiggle to try to control his uncooperative hem.

Barb noticed his attempt at modesty. She said, "You fruits stop trying to hide your candy. Move those knees apart, sissies. That's right. Now Charlene, pull up the front of your girlfriend's skirt. And Matilda, do the same for your sweetie."

With an arm each around the other's shoulder, they separated their hands and reached those barely-there skirts, then raised them all the way up. Smooth crotches were exposed.

"Damn!" Jeb exclaimed. "With what they've got between their legs, they just might as well be girls."

"Really," seconded Roy incredulously. "I've seen bigger dicks on little puppies."

The mortified husbands instinctively grasped each other's hands once more. They made an amusing picture, all tramped up, their half-sized genitals on display, looking on the verge of tears. The wives began issuing orders. They had to rise and sashay around the room, holding up their skirts, wagging their bare pink bottoms. Charlie began to weep. It was contagious and soon Matt joined him. They had to stand back-toback and bend forward, so they could rub their rumps together. Then they had to face each other, pretend to have just met, and begin a mutual seduction. Soon they were kissing, using plenty of tongue, and running their hands over each other. Hot tears ran down their flushed cheeks.

The onlookers rocked with laughter. Jeb made Matt get back on his knees to kiss Charlie's rump, even having him shove his face between his buttocks to probe with his tongue. Then it was Matt's turn. Charlie had to lay face-down and spread his legs wide so Matt could kiss and lick his tiny balls. That inspired wild guffaws from the beer swilling quartet. The husbands were utterly shamed. Roy had an arm draped over Lena's shoulders, one wide hand over her breast, gently squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing.

At the height of their disgrace, the husbands were told to stop. They huddled there on the carpet, alongside each other, like frightened animals caught in the glare of oncoming headlights.

Lena stood up and said, "Here's the thing. I'd really like to give Roy a blowjob. I got a feel of his cock and it's a monster. And I'll bet Barb would love to do the same for Jeb. But we're married ladies, so we can't do it. But we could if we were sure that are husbands are queer, like it looks. So how about if you two girly men get in the 69 position and try sucking on each other's baby-sized dicks. I mean, just as a test, so we can see if you get into it. You'll do that for us, Matilda and Charlene, now won't you?"

"Or," Barb offered, "would you rather that Lena and me left the room so our men can talk to you about it."

Jeb smacked his fist into his open palm. Roy cracked his knuckles. The trembling husbands looked terrified.

Matt said, in a strangled whisper, "I could try it."

Charlie seconded, "Me too. Just as a... test."

"That's what we wanted to hear," Barb said cheerily. "Now just lose those skirts and get ready to lick dick."

Utterly demeaned, the sissies undid their skirts and set them aside. They looked at each other, eyes red and noses runny, and moved tentatively. Matt got onto his side and gestured for Charlie to reverse the way he was facing and come to him. Charlie put his head toward Matt's feet, so that they were face-to-crotch with each other. Then they wriggled closer while the couples got up and stood over them for a better view.

Jeb said, "It might be hard to tell if they're getting excited, what with their dicks being miniature like that."

Roy snickered. "Truth. I'll bet when they've got their pretty panties on, you can't tell there's any boy parts down there at all."

"Get busy," Lena commanded.

"Lips apart," Barb snapped. "Tongues moving. Let's see some action."

The husbands did as they were told, getting their first taste of dick. They licked and sucked uncertainly and, to their dismay, both of them grew stiff. There were more jokes about how underdeveloped they were, but they weren't allowed to stop. The ordeal went on for a full quarter hour, with endless taunts and jeering. At last Jeb had the inspired idea to make each of them stick his index finger up the other's butthole and wiggle it around while they suctioned harder. Suddenly there were distressed sounds from them, followed by muffled grunts as they spurted their small amounts of cream into accommodating mouths. The wives warned them not to swallow and, when they were done, had them roll away from each other and open their mouths, to prove that they had each been fed a serving of spunk.

As a final indignity, they had to kiss once more, passing the two loads back and forth, 'snowballing' style. Jeb made a crude joke about two of their loads equally one from a regular man with a real cock and fullsized balls. The husbands cried while they kissed, and got cum smeared all over their lips. When the prolonged kiss was over, they were told not to clean up in any way, but instead to go and fetch more beers. At the bottom of a deep well of shame, they went and got the drinks. Both wished desperately that they could have a beverage themselves, to wash away the salty taste of fresh cum.

When they returned, the wives had opened their dates' jeans and freed a pair of enviably large cocks. The husbands watched, transfixed, as their brides used their hands to bring those meat tubes to full erection. The sissies were sick with envy. That was when, after starting their cold beers, the two couples told them they could go and wait in Matilda's room or, as Roy jokingly called it, 'The Girls' Room', so the women could pleasure their new men.

"And who knows," Lena said slyly. "Next time we party, these guys might get taken to bed for the full treatment. I sure could use a long fat cock up inside me."

"Likewise," agreed Barb.

The husbands swished out of the room, using their best sissy walks, and retreated to Matt's limited living space. They sat on the edge on the girly bed and, with no one else to turn to, held hands.

"What's going to become of us?" Matt asked tearfully.

"I don't know," Charlie answered in a quavering voice. "But it's only going to get worse."

Tank clapped his broad calloused hands, hollering, "Let's go, you twerp losers."

"Yeah," barked Lou. "What are you doing down there? Whacking each other off?"

The rough men laughed raucously. Their voices boomed from a monitor in the basement laundry room, where two epicene husbands were finishing up the hand washing of their wives' lingerie. They hung the final items on the clothesline and scurried to the basement steps, moving carefully on slippers with two inch heels. They got up the steps, their empire-waist full slips brushing against their bare thighs. The garments were pink, with lace trim. Each had a little bow at the scooped neckline. The tops were pulled tight against the men's chest and the satiny material rubbed persistently against their nipples. These effects took place because the unlucky husbands had been given enough hormones to make them grow modest but unmistakable breasts. The same drugs had caused their once average sized genitals to dwindle to laughably reduced dimensions. As if that wasn't bad enough, their male parts now barely functioned, but something else their wives were feeding them assured that they had voracious appetites for sex.

As the pair left the basement they checked each other's hair. It had been allowed to grow long and was styled sluttily. The impression that gave was heightened by their cosmetics. They had on too much eye makeup, as well as coral red lipstick. The night before they had been made to paint each other's finger and toe nails, in preparation for today. Their wives were spending the entire afternoon shopping, and then going to dinner. To compensate for their absence, the sissy husbands were responsible for entertaining the women's lovers. Tank and Lou were waiting in their man cave, which had previously been one of he sissies' music listening room. Now it was done over in sports décor and dominated by a large flat-screen TV that was always on when the guys visited. The intimidated husbands presented themselves to Tank and Lou, who gave them disapproving looks.

"You know," Tank said condescendingly, "just because you have boobs now, and your asses have gotten nice and round, it doesn't mean you can slack off downstairs."

"Right," Lou echoed. "You can't stay down there to slack off and whack off."

They both laughed at the crude joke. Both of them were short but solidly built, with heavy beard shadow. They had on denim shirts and black jeans, along with motorcycle boots. That last article of dress was appropriate, because both of them rode motorcycles. Tank had on a leather vest. The cowed husbands stood there looking apologetic and afraid. Tank got up and went to a hard wooden chair that was set up against the wall. He sat, pointed to one of the slip-wearers, and then to his lap.

"Let's go, Red. Move that pretty ass."

That husband's hair had been dyed bright crimson, with blond highlights. He hugged himself but started hesitantly toward the commanding man. When he got there he raised the lacy hem of his slip, letting everyone see that he wore nothing under it. Red had no pubic hair and his shrunken genitals were a constant source of embarrassment to him. He whimpered as he obediently draped himself across Tank's muscular thighs. In no hurry, Tank patted the upturned cheeks, appreciating how they were completely hairless, just like the rest of Red's body. The pliant sissy squirmed at bit, which earned him a quick jab from a thick blunt finger, right between his ass cheeks. He yelped and settled down. Beneath him he could feel Tank's larger-than-average penis growing hard. Red licked her lips nervously.

Sitting on the couch, Lou nodded at the other sissy and slapped the spot alongside him. "Come here, Lips. You don't want me to get lonely, do you?"

The second husband bit his lower lip, which was unnaturally full, as was his upper lip. His wife had gotten him collagen injections to make him look more the way that she preferred. She didn't want him to imagine, even for a second, that he could pass for male. He took a gasping breath as he went to Lou and sat alongside him. The rough looking man reached across and clapped a hand over Lips' nearest breast, catching the nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling it through the thin material of her slip. Lips sobbed with need. Her shriveled penis tingled and her undersized balls throbbed, but she got only a partial erection. The sissy couldn't remember how long it had been since she had ejaculated. The desire for it was always there. Usually it was all she could think about, though at the moment she was also focused on keeping Lou happy and avoiding punishment. She looked over at poor Red.

Tank raised his powerful arm, hand open and ready to strike. He brought it down hard and smacked Red's sitter. She yowled like a cat and threw back her head. Tank smiled crookedly and struck again, on the other side, leaving another vivid handprint. He kept it up, making her writhe and wail, while her shapely legs kicked and one of her slippers flew off. Heavy tears ran hotly down her made-up face as the pain mounted. Her crimson lips were twisted up. Her wife always got her the cheapest eyeliner, which she found in a dollar store, and now it ran down her bright pink cheeks. Her tongue poked out as she choked on agony.

Across the room, Lips watched in horror. That could have been her. But was her fate any better? Lou gave her a familiar signal and she got onto his lap, facing away from him. He pulled down her shoulder straps and bared her desirable breasts, then began to play roughly with the nipples, making her moan. He bit her neck and licked her ear, causing her to wriggle and arch her back, which got him even more turned on. Her balls ached with backed-up need. His hands explored everywhere, even toying with her tiny dick and making it stand up to its full two thin inches. She turned her head to the side and opened her mouth. He took the bait and mashed his lips against hers, driving his tongue into her mouth, making her taste beer and cigars. She gagged a little but accepted it, caught up in the need to please him and the hope that he might push her into an orgasm somehow.

The make-out session went on. The brutal spanking stopped and the sound of Red blubbering filled the room. Tank just sat there, one hand on her blazing bottom, enjoying the damage he had done, his other hand stroking her back and then her thighs. After a while he stopped.

"Hey, Lou," Tank called. "How about we trade off on the little wankers?"

"Sounds good. I haven't swatted this one's fanny for a while."

Lips was crestfallen. She had convinced herself that she was going to avoid a spanking. Instead, she found herself up on her feet, being dragged along by Lou to the chair. He sat and tugged her down, getting her into position at once and inflicting several hard pinches on her vulnerable backside to, as he liked to say, 'soften you up'. She waved her feet and begged him to be gentle, too scared to stop and think, or she would have reminded herself that showing helplessness just made him smack harder. He bent back her arm and bit the soft flesh on the inner side, between wrist and elbow. Her cry rose and fell as he stretched out the torment, leaving red marks.

The redhead looked to her sissy sister in desperation. Lips was on Tank's lap, but facing him, her bare ass rubbing against his rough jeans. He bounced her up and down a few times, grinning lewdly. Then he started pawing her ass and nibbling the ends of her tits. She groaned and nearly swooned. He got her fat lower lip between his teeth and pulled on it slightly. In her agitation, she involuntarily ground down on his hard cock.

"Damn," said Tank. "I'm really getting primed for some proper screwing. When the hell are the women supposed to get back."

"I don't know. I thought we'd have heard from them by now."

"Well give them a call."

"All right." Lou dumped Red off his lap and onto the floor, where she lay looking up at him. He hit a pre-set number on his phone, listened, spoke, and listened some more. Then he flipped the device shut and said, "They ran into some other girls and now they're staying at some freaking bar until happy hour ends."

"That'll be half the night. I can't wait that long."

"Guess we'll just have to make do with what we have. I mean, usually these sissies are just to play with and maybe get fluffed by. And we've shot off down their throats a few times, because they're such good cocksuckers. But now they'll have to get promoted to full-service sissies."

"Sounds good. Let's hit the bedroom."

The husbands were in shock. This couldn't be happening. They were still virgins... back there. But now Tank and Lou were grabbing them and towing them along to their new fate. They squealed and resisted, their tits jiggling, but it was useless, as weak as they were. Just a couple of defenseless girly-boys. Soon they were in the bedroom and getting tossed onto the bed. Lou switched back to Red and Tank took Lips again. There was no lube handy because with the women they never needed it. No back door sex for those ladies. But this was different. So Tank went to the kitchen, grabbed a container of cooking fat, and brought it back. The guys made their fearful bedmates apply the messy stuff to each other and then lick each other's fingers clean.

Lou made Red get on her knees with her ass up, while he got out of his jeans and knelt behind her. Tank put Lips on her back alongside them, pulled her legs up, and set her ankles on his broad shoulders. He inched forward until she felt like she was folded over double and the head of his tool was pressing against her tightness. Lou had his unit in position, too, and was already leaning into his target, beginning to stretch her rosebud open. Tank entered Lips with one hard shove, burying himself halfway into her. She howled once and then just stayed there, panting, while he drove himself in the rest of the way. Tank eased into Lips, enjoying how slowly he was entering her, and how long he was making her feel his deflowering invasion.

Very soon both men were pumping away happily, while the sissies who were filling in for their own wives were muttering and weeping and begging for mercy that wasn't going to be given. It was a long session, with both men milking every minute of pleasure out of it for themselves, at the same time enjoying how totally they were emasculating the husbands. It was an extra kick to know that these sissies were wed to the women they guys were also humping. But soon their only thoughts were about getting their rocks off. They increased their tempo while the sissies turned their heads to the side and looked into each other's eyes. This was something that they would always have to live with, that could never be erased from their lives. Once their wives knew about it, the women would hold them in even lower regard than ever before.

At the same moment, Tank and Lou erupted, sending gouts of hot cum into their unwilling receptacles. The sissies cried out and wailed hysterically, but it was too late. Their cherries had been popped and they had descended to a new level of sissy-hood. There would be no turning back. Now the guys could take them that way whenever they pleased. The threat would always be there. To add to their disgrace, the studs made Red and Lips lick clean each other's asses, insisting that they do a thorough job, outside and in. The sissies had on cheap lipstick, which smeared badly, leaving them looking like back-alley whores.

Hours later, the wives returned, buzzed and happy. They hugged and kissed the men but were surprised when they didn't expect sex.

"What's the matter, Tank? Too tired?"

"Is that it, Lou? Or did you have our sissy husbands sucking on you while you were waiting for us, and you lost control... again?"

"No, baby. We wanted something tighter than their mouths," Tank explained.

"Yeah," said Lou. "So we played around with them, reddened their ass cheeks, and then plugged their butts. They've been properly poked and now they're officially homo-boy, sissy-bottom, cum-bags."

The women were silent for a few seconds and then broke up laughing.

"Damn, Tank, I'm just sorry I wasn't here to see that."

"Really, Lou. I could have taken pictures and sent them all over the internet."

"No problem, honey. We'll do it again some other night, while you're home."

"And you can take all the shots you want, so long as you don't get our faces in them." Lou turned to the pair of sissy sister husbands and said, "Just think, girls. We're going to make you famous."

The sissies stood there, their disordered hair, runny eye make-up, and the messed up lipstick and dried cum on the mouths giving them the 'face-of-shame' look. They hid their features in their hands, but were peeking out between their fingers. We can only guess at what they were thinking.