Sunday, May 26, 2013


Not long ago, I was commissioned to redraw one of my earliest feminization works.

I often wish I could go back and redo a lot of my older work, but then I wouldn't get anything new done, and I already accomplish so little as it is.  I've certainly improved since I did the original version of this piece.  However, unlike a lot of my older art, this was one drawing I didn't especially dislike.  It's cartoony, but one could simply call it a stylistic choice.

Speaking of which, I used to bristle at seeing any given thing I did being described as a cartoon.   I mean, I'm a big fan of cartoons and a cartoonist is something I always aspired to be, but sometimes the word can seem to take on dismissive connotations, such as, "Oh, I like your little cartoons."  I'm probably too sensitive.

It feels a bit weird to be making this post so soon after Bea's recent announcement.  While outpourings of sentiment tend to make me uncomfortable, as I said in the comments section, I am very thankful to Bea, both for the many, many outstanding stories and for granting me wider exposure of my art, which has led to some interesting avenues.  Being as picky as I am, it's often difficult to find fiction within this genre that hits the right buttons for me, but for over a decade now, Bea's work is something I could always rely on.  I do believe this blog can carry on with or without its founder, though it of course will not be quite the same without her... uh, him.  Geez, after all this time, I still get tripped up by pronouns.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Ach Well - Looks To Be About That Time.

I've thought about this - and swithered and buggered about - but all good things must come to an end.
I'm in reasonably good health and can still do some arithmetic mentally, so don't really have a lot to bitch about.  But this is my goodbye to you.

As many of my old readers know, anti-cancer medication had limited my sex desires a LOT, so my interest in transvestism and suchlike took a helluva beating.  At the beginning of this year the cancer flared up again and had got into my spine and ribs.  Radiation treatment was a bit of a pain in the ass, but was painless and highly efficient - and has seemingly eradicated the cancers in those areas.  But?  I had to increase medication which has totally eliminated what remaining sexual interest I had.

To put it bluntly, I started to feel like a voyeur looking at this blog so have practically stopped visiting.  Must say that the blog seems to have survived this quite well - thanks to the contributors and the interest they've generated.

Anyway?  This is my farewell and, if possible, I'd like to pass on the running of the blog to anyone who is daft enough to want it.  Again, as any old time reader knows?  I'm an idiot when it comes to anything technical - so I'm more than willing to listen to anyone who can tell me how to pass the reins over.  (Someone HAS to approve new contributors!)

I started this blog with the idea of a non-commercial blog where transvestites, cross dressers, and suchlike could meet with kindred spirits without feeling demeaned or being screwed financially.  I also wanted to hammer home the point that us transvestites tended to look down on ourselves - my own experience being self hatred for a long time - but that as individuals we didn't have any logical reasons for such self dislike.

So m'dears?  I'm pretty damned ancient now - but I remember the desire - and the humiliations in dressing up, so sympathize a great deal.  Look after yourselves - and for goodness sake, stop with the self pity - or self dislike.  You have nothing to be ashamed of.

Many Hugs.  Good bye and the best of luck.


Monday, May 20, 2013

Amongst Women

Hi All

Below is the first part of the sequel to Rose and Jack entitled Amongst Women ( I can’t take the credit for the title though, I borrowed it from the late great Irish writer John McGahern and was going to rename it  Among Women but Amongst does sound better).

Thanks Lucky Girl for replying and for your kind words, I just hope the story measures up to your expectations. I can understand why you ended your story where you did but hopefully you might pick it up again. My own preference is for Jack’s humiliation and subjugation to take place outside the school as I think it has more possibilities, well for me at least, and the truth be known I lean towards forced femme, humiliation, domination etc. by older rather than younger women or girls. 

Lucky Girl also raised an interesting point concerning Jack’s masculine identity and it is going to be difficult for him to retain it considering the range of forces lined up against him. I think once he reaches that point the story will have reached its conclusion. But as some of us know it’s often more about the journey than the destination.

  I know people are reluctant to make comments but without them it’s hard to know if I’m boring the shit out of people or not – my take on forced femme may not be to everyone’s liking - so any comments positive/negative or suggestions would be most welcome.

 I have the bones for a continuation of the story and if readers are interested I can extend the story for at least another episode.  

Amongst Women  Part 1 - Shopping with Mother
The academic year was progressing well at the Stuyvesant Academy for Young Ladies (and one terrified boy) and on the surface it was very much similar to most schools catering for the offspring of the very wealthy. A well-structured academic syllabus with an extensive and varied programme of extra- curricular activities meant the students had a multitude of choices open to them and officially they were greatly encouraged by the staff to participate to ensure a well-rounded education but in reality it was to guarantee that they were kept out of trouble.
It had been a tumultuous introduction to life at the Academy for Jack.  He had been forcibly feminised for a weekend by Rose-one of the school’s maids - after she found him in an embarrassingly compromising position and as a result was now firmly under her thumb. If that wasn’t bad enough his mother had arrived home early to find him wearing one of her satin nightgowns that Rose had forced him to wear to bed. As his mother knew nothing of what had passed between Jack and Rose (she had been away at the time with Miss Strang the school Principal), and was under the illusion that he had discovered  a previously unknown  feminine side and  wanted to get in touch with it. Rose obviously did nothing to enlighten Mrs Swanson to the true reason behind Jack’s feminine attire and had actually planted the seed in her head regarding this new tender persona but also suggesting it might be best if it remained their little secret to avoid needless embarrassment to Jack. As if to further emphasise his predicament and add to his discomfiture Jack was also manoeuvred into referring to his mother in true girlish fashion as “Mummy”. His mother was delighted to discover that her son had a softer side, it almost made up for not having the daughter she always wanted. Jack however was disgusted that he had to maintain this feminine charade but knew Rose was capable of exposing him to his mother and maybe even the Principal. Every evening to please his mother he had to don a satin or silk nightgown and peignoir and present himself to her before retiring for the night. Since he was a child he was aware she had a propensity to check on him regularly and if he removed the nightgown he knew she would confide in Rose so he was forced to spend the night within the confines of the soft ultra- feminine nightgown.
 In the days since his mother’s return Rose seemed to be a constant feature around the house and it was obvious that his mother was quite taken with her and had developed a relationship more akin to friendship rather than maid and mistress. Jack was alarmed by this new female pairing and despite his best efforts was being drawn into its orbit. He was constantly being asked his opinion on all things feminine, his mother’s new dress or shoes, Rose’s new hairstyle or earrings. His football and music magazines disappeared overnight and were replaced by girl’s and woman’s fashion publications. His chores were now almost exclusively consisted of helping Rose. When his mother was absent for a few hours she wasted no time in having him capped and aproned but he was grateful that she had not the time to dress him in full uniform. To his barely disguised annoyance she constantly tormented him about their time together and just as he would consider rebuking her she coyly raised the issue of a certain signed confession to a lewd act and he reverted to his submissive role.
It was a relief to him when his mother suggested that they take a trip into town to purchase some kitchen utensils. A morning following his mother around a shopping mall would undoubtedly be a boring undertaking but a far better prospect than another Saturday with Rose. While trawling through what seemed like the hundredth store he wondered why was it that his mother like most women could not just go to a store get what was required and leave? Why did she have to spend what seemed like an eternity mulling over her choices before buying a simple item. Imagine, he thought, what it would be like if a gaggle of them got together, they could spend hours rabbiting before deciding. It was while this usual performance was being acted out he heard a vaguely familiar voice from behind him.
“Gail I haven’t had a chance to thank you properly since I got back” the voice of Principal Strang boomed out to his mother.
“Principal Strang I didn’t want to disturb you during your convalescence” his mother replied.
“Gail please call me Janet, you were so very kind in my hour of need I think we can dispense with the formalities” and turning to Jack said
“I do hope you realise what a kind and warm hearted person your mother is young girl”
Jack shifted uncomfortably and wanted to correct her immediately but thought her use of the word “girl” a slip of the tongue. The truth be known her physical stature and her position as Principal were also quite intimidating factors. He was somewhat annoyed that his mother had ignored this slight however he was forced to mumble
“Yes Ma’am”  
The women practically ignored him as they chatted away and he was relegated to the role of bystander.
“I was just on my way to purchase some lingerie my sister usually accompanies me but she is indisposed and I wonder could I impose on you, I would dearly love your opinion.” Miss Strang asked his mother.
“I would be delighted” Mrs Swanson replied.
Jack was thrilled, at last he could get away and cruise the mall and check out the new games store, not to mention girls, maybe get a pizza later as they were bound to take ages. His planning was rudely interrupted as his mother addressed him
“Come along dear, the lingerie store is this way”
“I thought I might visit the new sports store I need new sneakers”
Jack visibly paled as the two women looked impatiently at him. Miss Strang shot him one of her fierce looks and said in a stern voice
“Young lady, I do hope you’re not going to disobey your mother and besides teenagers running around unaccompanied are a poor reflection on our school.”
“I ..  I mean…. It’s just ….” He stammered as he reeled from her withering look and authoritarian voice which he had witnessed reducing girls to tears on several occasions. He was far too afraid to mention this was the second time she had referred to him as a female.
“Now come along we haven’t all day” she continued as she positioned herself by his side and with his mother at the other they moved off with him firmly secured between the two women.
His heart was racing all the way to his dreaded destination, his eyes darted about to see if any of the girls from school were in the vicinity. None were visible much to his relief, a small but welcome mercy.
He had seen lingerie departments in stores before, from a close but discreet distance and had stolen furtive glances at women examining various items of underwear. On one such occasion some women had noticed him and smiled knowingly in his direction which made him blush a bright red and immediately beat a hasty retreat. However this was different he was frogmarched into the heart of an obviously exclusive lingerie store. There was nowhere to scamper off to, no escape, nowhere to hide, here he was in the most feminine environment imaginable and in the company of the formidable Miss Strang and his mother. He heard the door close behind him, there would be no escape this time - he was trapped. The store was populated by women of various ages and sizes all browsing racks of every imaginable type of intimate feminine garment and as they moved through the store his nostrils were assailed by the scent of dozens of different perfumes.  He felt, but more importantly looked like a fish out of water, the only male in a woman’s world. They followed Miss Strang as she made her first foray through various racks of delicate  garments stopping at one she turned to them and said
“I think these slips are divine, what do you think girls?”
“Yes they are beautiful Janet but I think you’re mistaking my son for one of the girls” Mrs Swanson said smiling and at last correcting her.
Jack was relieved that finally it was being pointed out to Miss Strang that he was a boy. His recent traumatic experiences with Rose were bad enough and now his mother thinking he had a feminine side and practically forcing him into wearing a nightgown . Miss Strang referring to him as a girl was really the last straw hopefully now that she realised her mistake he might be allowed to go.
Miss Strang somewhat bemused looked at Jack as if it was for the first time.
“Oh don’t mind me I’m just so used to seeing girls all the time I keep forgetting we have one boy. A slip of the tongue but I’m sure you don’t mind?” she said in a soft but firm voice and using the hated feminine version of his name added
“Do you Jackie?”  fixing him with a look that seemed to dare him to contradict her.
“Um  no I suppose not” he demurred
“How kind of you so I’m sure you won’t mind if I occasionally forget and use a female rather than a male pronoun after all Jackie can be used as a girl’s name as well as a boy’s and  with your long hair, well…..I’m sure you understand.”
His mother standing behind Miss Strang  gave him a look which left him in no doubt as to the required response.
“No Miss Strang I understand” he lied.
“It’s not a problem Janet, Jackie doesn’t mind, he’s not one of those macho types I’m glad to say. In fact joining the school has made him more sensitive to the feminine perspective” his mother volunteered causing Jack’s stomach to tighten.
“Getting in touch with his feminine side eh? What a dear sensitive boy I wish some of our girls had such gentile sensibilities.” Miss Strang cooed.
“Isn’t that right, Jackie?” Mrs Swanson said proudly.
“Yes Mum” Jack again lied as every fibre of his body squirmed with embarrassment and to add insult to injury now even she was calling him Jackie.
“Jackie I thought we agreed how you would address me” she admonished.
Was there no end to her attempts to embarrass me he thought but as both women waited impatiently for his answer he swallowed hard and he duly gave the required response.
“Yes Mummy”
“How adorable” Miss Strang gushed as her two arms enveloped Jack and drew him into her body. The discrepancy in their height meant his face pressed directly into her large pillow like breasts. He could smell her very femininity and to his horror had the stirrings of an erection, he was soon released and she turned her attention to his mother saying
“Oh Gail I hope you don’t mind it’s just it’s so unusual to discover such a delightful and agreeable young man, I was quite overcome.”  
“Of course not, I’m sure he doesn’t mind, isn’t that right Jackie” she said.
“No Mummy” he replied knowing any other answer would not be acceptable.
Recovering from her sudden attack of emotion Miss Strang and his mother turned her attention back to the slips hanging from the rack, his mother picked one showed it to Miss Strang and said
“I think this one is gorgeous Janet.”
“Yes Gail, I love pale pink, it’s such a feminine colour, Jackie would you be a darling and hold it up to your body so we can get an idea of how it looks on.” Miss Strang said and without waiting for an answer handed him the slip.
He had no choice but to do as she asked and awkwardly held the silky soft slip at arms length up to his chest.
“No, not like that I can see you’re not used to this dear” Miss Strang said and directed him to hold the slip to his shoulders by the straps and it fell the length of his torso to his knees.
“Much better” his mother said approvingly and continued “yes I love that colour and the mocha lace is so pretty. I think we’ll have a look at some others.”
Jack knew there was no point in protesting at this point and complied meekly as the women gave him slip after slip in various colours and materials to hold to his body for their inspection. To his further discomfort he noticed a number of women observing his ordeal and his unease increased as they approached, he was shortly surrounded by women taking more of an interest in him than the lingerie.
“What a pretty slip” one of them said as they engaged in a conversation about its style and material.
“Would your daughter mind if she held up this one?” another said “I’m hoping to convince my own daughter  to wear one  but she’s such a tomboy, always in jeans”
Jack could see what was coming and wished the floor would swallow him.
“Oh this is not my daughter, it’s my son, I will really have to do something about his hair I suppose  it’s  easy to mistake him for a girl, he’s just helping us out as we try to decide which ones to buy” his mother said as Jack blushed furiously.
“I wish my daughter would accompany me lingerie shopping, she says too busy playing sports for all that girly stuff, you’re so lucky” she said and all her friends nodded their agreement as they smiled approvingly at Jack. He knew this ringing endorsement would only entrench his mother’s and now apparently Miss Strang’s views also.
“Forgive me but I’m sure I know you” Miss Strang said to the woman “does your daughter attend the Stuyvesant Academy”
“I thought I recognised you also” she said “I’m Emily Quinn , Pamela’s mother, I’m visiting my sister who lives close by for a  few weeks and thought I would drop by and bring Pamela shopping but she flatly refused to accompany me, much prefers browsing through sports stores than lingerie shops, as I said a bit of a tomboy. I’d love to stay but I have an appointment and must rush.”
A shiver went down Jack’s spine at the mention of Pamela’s name but was relieved that Pamela wasn’t with her to witness this spectacle. That would have been unbearable.
 Then came the coup de grace as she turned to his mother and said
“Please don’t take this the wrong way and I do mean this as a compliment he really would make such a darling girl. I’m so envious I don’t get to do girly stuff with my daughter.”
Her entourage concurred with another collective bout of head nodding and warm smiles. Jack almost suffocated in the oestrogen laden atmosphere. He hadn’t been so humiliated since his subjugation at Rose’s hands. Far from being insulted his mother beamed as did Miss Strang at this notion and Jack was grateful as the clutch of women moved away before they could add more fuel to this particular fire.
“Oh dear I’ve just remembered I have an appointment at the nail salon would you mind looking after Jackie until I return, it shouldn’t be long” his mother said to Miss Strang.
“Of course the dear girl is no bother” she said
Before Jack could say anything she thanked Miss Strang and was gone and he was left alone with this intimidating woman.
“Come along Jackie , I need some other items” she said as she headed for another part of the store and added “ and bring the pink, ivory and powder blue slips with you”
Hanging his head in shame and trying to make himself look as inconspicuous as possible he followed her carrying the satin and silk slips, any hope that they were headed for a quiet corner were soon dispelled as Miss Strang sought out the manager.
“Ms Strang how nice to see you again” the store manager said eyeing Jack who stood slightly behind her  as she noticed him holding the feminine garments “we have that new range you were inquiring about. Please follow me.”
“Thank you Michelle” Miss Strang replied with an easy familiarity.
Jack dutifully followed the two women to an area with mannequin displays of various styles of foundation wear.
“Would the young lady like to try on the slips in the dressing rooms?” the manager said
“Oh no the slips are for me this is my friend’s son, he’s being such a darling helping me out while his mother attends an appointment.” Miss Strang said
“Son? Oh please forgive me, I’m such an idiot” she said to Jack “I forgot to put in my contacts this morning we don’t get too many males in here. It must be your longish hair and wonderfully long eye lashes.”
“That’s ok” Jack mumbled knowing there was nothing else to say.
Jack stood there feeling like a fool as the manager showed Miss Strang various types of girdles and bras whilst discussing the merits of each item. Eventually after what seemed an age they seemed to settle on several items.
“I know you usually like assistance but all my assistants are tied up at the moment if you would like to wait for fifteen minutes or so I can have a girl attend to you.” the manager said.
“No that’s quite all right” Miss Strang said and laughed “I brought my own, now come along my dear, leave those slips on the chair and bring those bras and girdles” she ordered pointing to the various items of satin and lace on the counter.
He gingerly picked up the items of underwear and followed her into the spacious dressing room.
“Maybe I should wait outside” he said
“Not at all, I’m sure you’ve seen your mother in her underwear before and it’s not like you’re one of those horrible macho boys” she said as she unbuttoned her blouse revealing her ample bosom encased in a formidable bra under a black satin slip. Turning her back to him she said
“Unbutton and unzip my skirt, there’s a good girl.”
As she stepped out of the skirt she took off her blouse and handed it to him. He bristled at being referred to as “a good girl” but nevertheless said nothing and laid the skirt and blouse on the chair as she slipped off the straps of the slip and let it fall to the ground and stepped out of it. He instinctively bent down and picked it up place it with the skirt and blouse. Noticing he did this without instruction she said
“Your mother certainly has you well trained now hand me that new bra before you unhook me then turn your back until I call you again.”
After she remove her bra and slipped her arms into the new one she again called for him.
“You may hook me up now” she commanded and he obeyed silently delicately fastening the seven tiny hooks into their matching eye tabs.
“Excellent” she said “you would make a wonderful lady’s maid, but I think I may have the wrong size. Run along to Michelle and ask her for a white long line bra size 38D, oh ask her for a flesh coloured  open bottom corselettte and  make sure it’s the one  with satin panels.”
He baulked at the mention of lady’s maid as it brought back the humiliation he suffered in that very role at Rose’s hands. There seemed to be no end to her demands but he reckoned the sooner he got this over with the better and he made his way to the counter to get the requested items.
The few customers at the counter gave him quizzical looks and he felt even more uncomfortable than previously if that was possible as he waited for Michelle.
“And what can I do you young man” she said, loudly enough for the customers to stop what they were doing and take notice of this male interloper.
Jack whispered the instructions he had been given by Miss Strang but Michelle apparently had difficulty in hearing them and said in a loud voice
“I’m sorry dear boy I can barely hear you, is that a 38B or 38D long line bra you want?”
Jack went bright red instantly and barely managed to stammer
The women at the counter began to giggle and one of them said
“I thought he was more a 36A”
Michelle noticed Jack’s discomfort, smiled at him and gently admonished the customers
“Ladies, this young man is being very gallant in assisting one of my customers, now what else can I get for you
“A flesh coloured corsellette with satin panels” he mumbled
“A flesh coloured corsellette with satin panels” she repeated again in a loud voice “is that a panty corsellette or open bottomed?”
“Open bottomed” he blurted wondering how long would this torture continue.
“Same bra size?” the seemingly unending questions continued as the women customers could now barely contain their laughter.  
 Jack was on the verge of tears when Michelle again intervened.
“Ladies….. Please. Leave the poor boy alone”
The women gather around Jack and hugged him.
“We’re sorry, we didn’t mean to hurt you, please forgive us”
He recovered his composure enough to nod his acceptance and as he took the garments from Michelle and   was about to walk away he heard a voice behind him saying
“I’d love to see him in a tight corsellette with or without satin panels.”
He recognised the voice immediately.
“When Mother told me there was a nice young man in the lingerie store helping his mummy and Miss Strang I knew it could only be you.”
“I’ve got to get back to Miss Strang” he said cursing his bad luck and briskly walking away from her but she fell in beside him.
“I see you’re acting as Strang’s lady’s maid, I wonder what she’d say if she knew you had previous experience” Pamela said, smiling.
Reaching the dressing room he knocked on the door and waited for Miss Strang to bid him enter.
“About time too” Miss Strang said impatiently “now unclasp me and hand me the new bra.”
He went through the same ritual time and again until she had settled on what she wanted and after going through the indignation of helping her dress again they emerged from the dressing room to be greeted by his mother, Pamela and her mother.
“I ran into Pamela and her mother and Pamela said she’d love to meet Jackie when she found out he was here. I do hope Jackie was of assistance” his mother asked Miss Strang
“He was wonderful, quiet, dutiful and biddable, unobtrusive but always at hand” she said
“You’re just described my former lady’s maid” Pamela’s mother said “ she left last month and I’m lost without her, so hard to find  one these days  with the qualities you’ve described.”
Pamela grinned at Jack as he squirmed at Miss Strang’s description.
“Now run along with these to Michelle like a good girl and tell her I’ll need four bras and five corsellettes as well as half a dozen slips in the various colours.” Miss Strang said as she handed him the various items.
He stood rooted to the spot and briefly thought of throwing them back at her but one look from his mother dissuaded him of that particular notion, he meekly took the items from her and made his way to Michelle for what promised to be another embarrassing encounter.
It took him several minutes to return with her purchases and the women were in deep conversation when he arrived back.
“Of course it will take several weeks and a lot of hard work” his mother was saying as he re-joined the group “but it is a great idea.”
He was relieved that at least they weren’t still talking about him and lady’s maids in the one breath but wondered what the hell were they discussing?
“Well thank you so much Mrs Swanson but I would only do it if Jackie took part also” Pamela said with her fake sweet smile.
Jack was totally lost, just what are these people talking about now? he said to himself. His mother enlightened him
“Pamela has written a one act play as part of her drama course, she’s auditioned her classmates for the other role and none are suitable but she feels you would be perfect for it. You’ve done plays before, what do you say?” his mother said beaming at him as if he’d been asked to play opposite Meryl Streep.
“I… I’m not sure, I…  I have a lot on” he struggled for words but his mother was having none of it.
“Nonsense you have a lot of free time and you have no tests coming up, you don’t want to disappoint your friend now do you?”
“Oh please Jackie” Mrs Quinn said “it would mean so much to Pamela and I”
All four women looked at him expectantly. He had no excuses left and now no options either.
“Ok I suppose so” he said reluctantly.
“Oh thank you so much Jackie” Mrs Quinn said, a sentiment echoed by the other two women. Pamela just smiled and Jack had a sudden familiar queasy feeling.
“What’s the name of the play?” he asked, now with some trepidation.
“Oh didn’t I mention that Jackie?” Pamela said still smiling.
He shook his head.
“The Mistress and Maid”
Jack groaned audibly and tried to argue but the women were already all talking together at fever pitch and no one heard his anguish or protest. When they finally stopped they again thanked him profusely and Pamela kissed him. A Judas kiss he thought.
“See you at rehearsals” she said and walked away grinning.
To be continued.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Jack and Rose - A new chapter ?

Hi All
I know Lucky Girl has continued Jack’s story in her really good  Back to School episodes. I had some spare time recently and started another strand to “Jack and Rose”(entitled Among Women) but in no way do I want to interfere with Lucky Girl’s contributions and I don’t want to bogart the story. If people are still interested in how I see Jack progressing I can post Part 1 of his latest trials and tribulations but I’d really prefer to wait until Lucky Girl has finished her storyline before I post mine. I hope that make sense. If LG reads this let me know what you think.
I'll be away for a few days so may not be able to reply immediately.



Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Kammi's Serial



He reached inside my pj’s,  took hold of my erect penis, and began moving his hand up and down. As wrong as I knew this was, I could not stop him. It felt so good. So did his kiss on my lips.
“Just think of nice things, Leon, like setting your mother’s hair in lots of little pin curls, over and over.”
I closed my eyes and envisioned that scene, my mother in her robe, sitting at the kitchen table, with me standing over her combing and pinning her hair. Then I replaced my mother with Sandy Pierce, the prettiest girl in my class who I had a big crush on. I did not get very far in my fantasy before I pissed my pants. At least that’s what I thought had happened but taking a pee had never felt so good.

“So Amos, I was introduced to the wonderful world of sexual activity” Leon said. “And also to the wonderful world of submissiveness. For the rest of my stay over with Butch, I helped him with his chores and actually liked it, though I did not realize it until several days later, thinking about it in bed one night. At the time, I did not enjoy being bossed around by Mrs. Armstrong. When she gave an order to Butch she would turn to me and say in a stern voice ‘and you can help him, Leon’.  Only when I became an adult did I come to realize that she knew I liked to be bossed and she was very good at it. In just a few days I learned how to make a bed, do a load of laundry, from washing and drying and hanging outside on the clothes line, as well as folding and putting clothes away in their proper places. And yes, I learned to iron too. I vacuumed and dusted and was actually praised by Mrs. Armstrong for doing such a good job cleaning her bathroom. All this for a boy that did absolutely nothing at home in the way of housework. But the thing I loved doing the most was helping Butch do his mother’s hair – shampooing, a little setting, taking out the pins, and even brushing her hair. I went so far as to talk to Butch about becoming a hairdresser too. He knew all about the training and starting off as a lowly shampoo boy, etc. It all sounded so exciting to me. The big obstacle was my parents. Even at that young age, I was committed, in their minds, to following in my father’s and grandfather’s footsteps as a lawyer. Somehow, hairdressing and the law did not seem to be a good fit. I also wanted to be given the same chores at home as Mrs. Armstrong had made me do. I planned a slow, careful approach to my goal.  One rainy Saturday morning, when I could not play outside, I offered to vacuum the carpets. My mother had a fit.

“What has got into you, Leon? Are you ill? No son of mine vacuums. What would your father say? He’d probably have a coronary if he came in the door and saw you vacuuming. Get that silly idea out of your head. Do you hear me, young man?”

So much for that idea. And any notion I had about leading up to offering to do my mother’s hair was blown out of the water and was confirmed when I told them that Butch had let it be known that he was going to become a hairdresser.

“I always knew that there was something queer about that boy” my father said.

My mother went even further when she proclaimed that it was against god’s law for a man to do a woman’s hair, even though she went to a male hairdresser and seemed to enjoy her weekly trip to his salon. But I guess she had resigned herself to the fact that Butch was beyond redemption when she accepted his offer to wash and set her hair one afternoon when my father invited her to dinner with an important client at short notice and she could not get an appointment at her own salon. He even did her nails while she sat under the dryer. But I knew she was not at all pleased when I stood next to Butch and handed him the pins.

She told me the next day “I better not hear that you have any inclinations to hairdressing or we’ll ship you off immediately to a military boarding school where they’ll rid you of any such idea, including wanting to vacuum. What is the world coming to?”

Strange how some people think. Butch did my mother’s hair several times after that and my mother had no problem with it. One time, he sewed a button on her blouse that he noticed was loose and she readily accepted that. She also accepted comments from him about her clothes and what looked better with this or that skirt. She would jokingly refer to him as a sissy, which apparently made it acceptable whereas for me, this was all forbidden territory, subject to extreme punishment.

I had to make Mrs. Armstrong promise never to mention me doing housework or doing her hair to my mother and she was true to her word. One time, when she had me brush her hair she commented on the fact that it was such a shame people could not do what they enjoyed, regardless of gender.

“There’s no reason a girl can’t get herself dirty working under a car if that’s what she likes. And there’s no reason a guy can’t make himself pretty and do his knitting and embroidery while watching TV. We could all be much happier if people were just not so hung up on ‘the rules’.”

I was so impressed with her wisdom. I had joined Butch taking lessons on needlework from his mother. I also was thrilled to sit on the floor next to Butch while each of us painted his mother’s toenails.

“And here I am now, happy as a pig in shit, doing all the things my parents forbade me to do, sitting next to my best friend who I am about to give a great big, mushy kiss.”

The two men hugged and kissed for several minutes before Amos asked “So, what happened between you and Butch, you know, ah, sexually?”

“Well, we continued to masturbate each other on a regular basis. I let him curl my hair and I did his too. Mrs. Armstrong thought that was cute. She probably knew what we were doing after we went to bed but said nothing about it. I felt much more at home doing dishes and cleaning in Butch’s house than I did in my own home. Mrs. Armstrong taught me how to dress her and that was one of the biggest thrills of my young life. I felt that I was born to serve women. I know, you want to hear all the dirty stuff, don’t you Amos? Butch and I graduated to oral sex but I drew the line at intercourse. Well, at least until we were older. Funny, I never considered myself to be homosexual, and I still don’t. Butch was my best friend back then and we did things together because we enjoyed it. I never considered doing anything with any other boy. Same now, Amos. I love you and Agnes and will do anything to make you both happy, and I know you feel the same way about Mildred and myself and I hope it never ends. After all, what other man could take care of my hair as well as you do, Leon?”

“So that’s why you keep me around, is it? I was planning on frosting you hair next week so I guess you just gave me the go ahead. Right?”

“Looks like I fell into that one. Okay, you can frost my hair, just not too much, right?”

“Sure Amos, but you know how us artists are. We just have to go with our inclinations at the time. I have wanted to turn you into a strawberry blond, you know. It would make you look much younger – and sexier.”

“Listen to us, two men in our forties, discussing hairstyles and thinking about all the housework that we have to do tomorrow while our wives go off shopping for the day. And we love it. How did we get like this? We were both in strong, manly positions and now we are happiest obeying our wives and doing what we used to call woman’s work. Well, I know how it happened to me. I fell madly in love with a woman who did not believe in conventional role playing. And she had a strong advocate in her mother. I had to have the tendencies but she brought them out and cultivated them to the point that by the time we got married, I gladly submitted myself completely to both of them. How many men do you think packed his wife’s trousseau for their honeymoon and then unpacked and ironed everything on their wedding night? And I ironed her wedding gown too, the day before our wedding.”

“It was not so easy for me” Leon said. “As I told you, my mother forced me in the opposite way – to be a strong, domineering man, just like my dad. I’ll never forget the time when I was home from college and walked into the kitchen and saw my dad hit my mother across the face. He turned around and left the room to go read his paper in the livingroom. He was so casual about it, like it was nothing unusual, which I later found out that it wasn’t. He even smiled at me as he passed by. My mother said ‘ I‘m sorry, dear, I’ll try not to do it again’ to his back as he left. I was frozen in place but finally asked my mother if she was all right. ‘Sure, I deserved it. I put too much starch in his shirt and I should have known better. That’s all, no big deal. Now go join your father while I wash out his shirts.’

“But he hit you, mother. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Only a little. Your father is very considerate of me, not like most men. Most of my friends regularly get put across their husbands’ knees and spanked for things far less important than putting too much starch in their shirts. Now that hurts. Your father has only done that to me a few times, and I sure deserved it.”

I was flabbergasted. Wonderful, church going men like my father regularly beat their wives? And the women accepted it. Was I strange? Something like that never occurred to me. Hitting any woman, and especially your wife, was terrible and I promised myself I would never do that, no matter how bad the crime. On the contrary, I fully accepted Agnes beating me when I did something wrong. To me, that is far more natural, for a woman to beat a man. Funny, as I think back, it was always my father that spanked me, not my mother, but I would have felt much better if she, the woman, had put me across her knee.”

“In my house, it was my mother that punished me, never my father. He would say ‘Rachel, this boy needs to be taught a lesson’ and she would take me outside and had me lean over the porch rail. She would pull down my pants and use a strap that was kept hanging on a nail in the wall and give me six hard, painful strokes. I always cried, even in my teens. Back inside, my father would say ‘Thank you Rachel, you’re a wonderful mother’. So, yes, for me too it seemed far more normal for Mildred to beat me for my infractions. And like you, I never considered beating her. That would be an abomination. Of course, I was also beaten by my mother-in-law, and she could be vicious. Mildred had a good teacher. So, when did Agnes start beating you, Leon?”

“It wasn’t until we had been married for a few years. We started off in the usual, conventional way, me the boss and Agnes the inferior partner. It wasn’t the way I wanted, but I was scared to death, due to my mother and father’s brainwashing, not to assume that role lest Agnes think I was queer. I actually suffered watching Agnes do all the work around the house and so wanted to offer my help. Of course, the thing that drove me nuts was watching her set her hair at night in front of the television when she was dead tired and wanting so much to do it for her, as much to help her as to satisfy my own cravings. The ice was broken one afternoon when she stubbed her toe as she was carrying a basket of wet laundry out to the clothes line. She yelped and danced around and I felt so bad for her. I told her to go sit and I would hang the clothes.

“You? Are you kidding me?”

“Yes, dear, I am not totally useless, you know.”

“You sure could have fooled me” she said, and laughed.

Well, as you know, Amos, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to attach a piece of clothing to a rope with a wooden pin. When I came back inside, I thought Agnes had gone into shock from her accident. She just stared at me, open mouthed. Finally, she spoke.

“You did it, you really did it. I can’t believe it. How did you learn to hang the laundry? Have you done it before?”

“Darling, it’s not a big deal, and yes, I have done it before and I’ll be happy to do it for you whenever you want. That basket is heavy and you shouldn’t be lifting it.”

She again went into that catatonic look. After what seemed forever, she hobbled over to me and threw her arms around me and kissed me.

“I’ve got the most wonderful husband in the whole world. I can’t wait to boast to my friends that you hung out the wash for me.”

She was beaming and I was thrilled.

“Did you help your mother do the wash? I just can’t picture that.”

Now it was my turn to laugh.

“You’re right, I can’t picture it either, especially since it never happened.”

For the next hour or so I made my confession to her, all the time fearing that doing so would end our marriage. In complete detail, I told her about all the things I did at Butch’s house, even to the point of doing Mrs. Armstrong’s hair and helping her dress. The latter description put Agnes in shock mood again. She eventually came out of it, after I handed her a glass of wine which she swallowed in one gulp.

“Are you telling me that you, Leon Collins actually ironed your best friend’s mother’s slip and then helped put it on her?”

I was convinced that this was the end.


“And all these years we have been together, you have sat there in your easy chair while I slaved over a mountain of laundry and ironing into the night, when all the time you knew how to do housework and, I can’t believe this, you say you actually like doing it. Well, buster, things are going to change around here, starting right now!”

I was convinced that the change would be me thrown out of the house for being the biggest weirdo in the world. Back then, and even now, just the idea of a man vacuuming is considered strange. My confession that I was prepared, and even looking forward to helping with all the household chores was probably more than Agnes could deal with. I assumed I was the only man in the world with such bizarre desires. Hell, even my own mother had mocked me.

Agnes stood up and left the room.  This was it, I knew. Instead she was back in a couple of minutes with something in her hand. It was too small to be my suitcase. She stood behind me and I felt something go around my neck. Oh my gosh, was she going to strangle me? But there was nothing tugging at my throat. No, just a soft feeling of an apron being put on me. A very pretty, lace ruffled apron that Agnes saved for special occasions.

“I think this looks much better on you, my dear. Let this mark your introduction to your new position at home – being my maid!”

She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. I wondered if she had indeed strangled me and my most favorite wish was being answered as I arrived in heaven.


“Yes, really, my wonderful, caring husband. And you know what your first duty is?”


“That basket of laundry that I dropped needs to be washed over again and hung out to dry. Can you handle that?”

“Yes, my dear, I will do it gladly.”

“And while the clothes are washing, I would like you to wash and set my hair then after that, I have a skirt and blouse that I need ironed for work tomorrow. And a slip too, you naughty boy. Any questions?”

“No, no, I can’t wait to get started. Do you still love me Agnes?”

“More than ever, my sweet maid. Off with you” she added with a spank on my bottom.”

“And that’s when it all began, Amos. Other than cooking, Agnes never did another thing around the house. It was the greatest boost to our marriage, which had started to become a little sluggish. That weekend, she wore the same nightgown as she had on our wedding night, a beautiful ivory, floor length
silk number that I loved. We started to make love as usual, but Agnes had other ideas. She was going to be on top, in itself a totally revolutionary position for that time. We both climaxed in a short time but I was not finished, as would usually be the case. She whispered that she had read in a scandal magazine that there were men that would actually kiss and lick a woman’s vagina. She asked what I thought of such a disgusting practice. I said I would not know until I tried it. Agnes quickly had two more orgasms. I had a mouthful of my own cum, which I did not care for but which I quickly got used to, like it or not.

“As for when she started beating me, it was around a couple of months after our switch. Amazing, Agnes took over as boss right away and had no hesitation about giving me orders and expecting good results. She started off twisting my ear when I didn’t to something to her liking. Then she started rapping my knuckles with a ruler for an infraction. She was building up to her first true spanking.  She was standing in the bathroom putting on her make-up. She had to leave for work early due to a high level meeting. She was nervous as hell. Worse, she had started her period. Half asleep, I shuffled into the bathroom to pee. Despite all the times she had admonished me for this, I both failed to flush and left the seat up. She grabbed a hair brush and began to wail my ass, in no uncertain terms. I woke up in a hurry. I tried to apologize but she was not listening to anything other than the sound of the brush on my cheeks. I was crying by the time she let me go.

“I better never have to remind you of that again or it will be far worse. Understand?”

“Yes, Agnes, I’m sorry.”

“Good. Now go polish my shoes. You can plan to spend the evening with your nose in the corner of the livingroom while I watch television. If you’re good, I’ll have a special treat for you.”

The special treat was her covering my head with her dirty panties  while I spent two hours standing in the corner. And no, I did not get any kick out of that. Imagine how a tight fitting, cotton panty smells like after being worn for twelve hours by a woman having her period. Gross!

That event pretty much crowned my princess as head of the household and me as her very subservient husband.  And I don’t regret it a bit.