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Formally Cocky! By Throne
🕑 Added 2025-02-06 17:36:19 +0000 UTCFormally Cocky!
By THRONE
© 2019-2055 QoS Comix All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to Devinwhitegurl@gmail.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
**DEVIN DICKIE NOTE**
All characters are OVER 18 years of AGE! This is a bullying fantasy and not real. The acts in the following written work are only consensual sexual choices and fantasy humiliation scenarios.
Bullying is NOT OKAY and If you or someone you know is being bullied, please alert the authorities.
Formally Cocky!
By THRONE
Formerly Cocky by Throne
Fowler was a cocky little guy who always got his way by threats and manipulation. He pushed Tina into marrying him, when the guy she really loved was Dave. After a year of enduring her husband's bad temper and baseless accusations about her cheating, she'd had enough. That was when she contacted an underground organization that had the solution to her woes. The plan was simple. She slipped her husband a special drug for three days. It built up enough in his system to bring on some alarming symptoms. She took him to a small clinic. He was too upset to argue about her choice of where to take him. They gave him something to help him relax, and soon he was asleep. One of the attendants told her that she could pick him up in a week.
When Fowler came out of his stupor, he felt odd. There he was, on a hospital bed in a featureless room. A nurse appeared and helped him to move to a chair. An attendant brought him something light to eat. Then a doctor appeared and explained that he his condition had been brought on by having toxins build up in his system, and that they had given him purifying treatments for seven days to correct it, and make sure it couldn't reoccur. Shortly after that, his wife arrived to sit with him.
Being the type of person he was, Fowler fired a series of complaints at her, all of them baseless. He tried to make Tina feel guilty. She acted like that was the case but inside she was gloating over the changes that she knew were soon to affect him. She drove him home the next morning, because he was told not to get behind the wheel for several days. He went online and checked his bank account, which was full of inherited family money, so much that he didn't have to work. Satisfied that his closely guarded wealth was safe from his wife, he resumed making his
familiar demands on her. She had to cook and clean like she was hired help. His pushiness extended into the bedroom as well. It was important to Fowler's self-image that she do whatever she was told to sexually. At
times, he would insist on oral sex from her, just to assert his control. Being such a bully, he never reciprocated in that department.
He was surprised when she said that she would rather not cater to his desire for her to use her mouth on him. Fowler was about to attack her with words when a strange lassitude came over him. He furrowed his brow, shook his head, and went to sit on the sofa.
"Sure," he told her. "That's fine."
"And I need some help with the housework," she said. "If you could wash the load of dirty dishes in the sink, that would be good."
Words formed in his mind but never came out of his mouth. Instead, he agreed, "I can do that."
As he stood at the sink, wearing the rubber gloves she had provided, he tried to stop himself from performing the mundane task that he considered beneath him. His wife appeared with a bib-front apron. It was lime green and had wide shoulder straps. There were big ties in the back, which she helpfully knotted into a floppy bow. When he tried to clench his fists, they refused to obey. Instead, he ran water and put soap on a sponge, before he started the job. Tina sat on a kitchen chair watching him, smiling behind is back. She delighted in seeing him do something she knew he found humiliating, but was unable to refuse.
When he was done, she suggested that he strip and report to their bedroom for what she called 'some fun'. Normally, he was the one to take the
lead in that department, but even so the idea of sex sounded good to him. He could reaffirm his status as the man of the house and the boss of her.
It didn't make sense to him that she said he should undress before going there, but he did it anyway. Instead of leaving his clothes for her to deal with, he folded them neatly and put everything on the chair where she had been sitting.
Once he was in the bedroom, he found her naked except for a short diaphanous nightie with no panties. She had a great figure, with small high breasts, a trim waist, and shapely hips and legs. Seeing her left him more pliant than ever. She laid back and invited him to get into the missionary position. He did it but, instead of doing what came next, he waited for her to give instructions.
Tina offered, "Why don't you rub up against me to get yourself hard, dear? Then you can put the end of your dick between the folds of my pussy. But don't go any further. This will be a fun change for us. You can stay like that while I tease you. If you don't finish, it will leave
you wanting more, which will be so exciting for you."
"I... guess... so," he said uncertainly.
Once he had the head of his penis in that warm moist spot, she started to toy with his nipples. It was as if the pleasure center of his brain had been accessed and stimulated. The sensations were incredible. Despite that, he didn't finish. When he was at the peak of arousal, she gently told him to slide down until his face was at the juncture of her legs. He found himself with his nose practically touching her pink furrow. Every time he breathed in through his nostrils, he whiffed the scent of her femininity. Instead of disgusting him, as he expected, it seduced
Fowler. With his wife quietly instructing him, he began to lap that groove and pay special attention to the pearl at the top of it. Time slipped away from him. He was aware of giving her a trio of climaxes, spaced well apart because she made him slow down after each. When the final one was over, Tina kept him there, using just the tip of his tongue, until she had descended completely.
"That was lovely," she complimented. Her words meant a lot to him for some reason.
"I'll just go and brush my teeth," he said.
She took his wrist and gave it a restraining squeeze. "Don't do that, dear. Snuggle up against me."
When she turned her back, he spooned her. She lifted his arm and draped it across her body, so that his hand rested on her modest breast. It was wonderful to be in such intimate contact. The problem was that he hadn't
finished and was so much in need of an ejaculation that it was all he could think about. She rubbed her backside against his crotch. There was no way she could miss the fact that his cock was stiff, yet she didn't do anything about it. Tina drifted into slumber. Fowler lay there, trying not to moan from frustration, for a long while before he drifted into uneasy sleep.
The next morning, Tina got into a long, royal-blue dressing gown. She had a new robe for him to wear. It was short and fuzzy and, worst of all, pink. He stood there submissively while she got it on him and tied the belt. Then she playfully reached into the front of it to give his nipples some more tantalizing. He was erect in seconds. She even gripped his prick, tightened her fingers, repeated that half a dozen
times, and left him panting for more. Instead of making any demands, he placidly accepted the generous breakfast she fed him. Then Tina directed him to take a shower. He did it, though he was mildly annoyed that the body wash and shampoo his wife provided both had fruity scents. After he dried off, he thought he smelled like a tropical drink. And some of his body hair had ended up on the drain plate of the bath.
"You can't go around naked under your pretty robe," she pointed out. "Slip these on."
She was holding out what were unmistakably a pair of panties, pale red ones of some satiny material. That brought him to a complete standstill. He couldn't be seen in those. Tina arched an eyebrow and frowned. He didn't want to disappoint her. Fowler craved praise, like she had given after his oral attentions the night before. In slow motion, with his mind going in two directions at once, but with one of them winning out, he donned the feminine lingerie.
Tina told him, speaking slowly and clearly, as if she wanted the words to not be missed, "I like you in those. They look right on you. I know you
enjoy how they feel."
To emphasize that last point, she rubbed his member through the smooth garment. He tingled wildly. His nipples pulsed. He wished she would touch them some more. His balls throbbed, possibly from not being emptied for too long. Tina put a feather duster in her husband's hand and sent him to clean with it in several rooms, which occupied him for the next hour. Then came body cream, which she applied to his face and arms. When she moved to his chest, her slippery fingers on his nipples drove him to distraction.
Fowler couldn't shake off his new passivity or force himself to object to the unmanly changes she had made in his wardrobe and body-care products.
Day after day he allowed her to do what she pleased to him, including keeping him in panties. Their love life consisted of him giving her massages that inevitably led to his mouth on her pudenda. By the end of the week, he was at last able to gather a fraction of his former willpower. He might even have begun the climb back to who he had previously been. Then came a major setback.
They were lying in bed and she was idly toying with his nipples. Fowler moaned and twitched his hips. Tina ran her finger up the underside of his rigid cock.
"That's odd," she observed. "Your dick feels smaller." "That's not possible," he said.
She wrapped her fingers around the shaft. "When I used to do this, there was more of it sticking out at the top." Then she made a dismissive sound, as if the matter wasn't important, and went back to keeping him at the edge of finishing, without taking him the final distance. He became obsessed with what she had said and was soon convinced that he was, indeed, shrinking down there. Plus, he was losing more body hair. And putting on a few pounds in all the wrong places. His pants, when she let him wear them to run errands, were tight across his buns and he had the unsettling impression that he was growing man-boobs. What the @#%& was
going on?
Tina started talking on the phone to Dave, the man she had been so
attracted to until Fowler detoured her into marriage with himself. The husband couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard her refer in those conversations to someone with the unlikely name of Flower. He hadn't been paying full attention, though, because Tina had him watching home shopping programs, ones that sold clothes and other items that were exclusively for women.
After the last of his pubic hair vanished, his genitals appeared quite immature. He was certain now that he had lost inches down there, even as he was gaining them elsewhere. His nipples became more receptive than ever to Tina's touch. Occasionally, when she wasn't with him, he would diddle them himself, elevating his libido but not offering it any relief. His poor balls ached.
One night, in bed, after one of their increasingly lengthy sessions of him giving his wife cunnilingus, she spotted something in his mood. Tina wanted to know, "What is it, Flower?"
Had he heard accurately what she called him? Less concerned with that than with what was gnawing at his mind, he said, "It's just that I've had these odd thoughts."
She lightly stroked his thigh, under the covers, creating some distraction and leaving him a bit unfocused. He gathered his thoughts as best as he could. "It's just that..." He came to a full stop. "No,
it's nothing."
"Darling," she coaxed, "we have to be open with each other. Now tell Tina what it's all about."
"It's just..." He took a steadying breath. "When I think about us having sex, instead of picturing me on top of you, like it used to be, I
see myself with my head between your thighs, doing nice things for you with my mouth."
"That's not bad, is it? You know how thrilled I am that you pay special attention to me that way."
"I know but..." He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe what was happening to him. "I think my sex drive is being changed. It's like I'm becoming addicted to doing that for you."
She hugged him close, drawing his face into her bosom. At her urging, he began to suckle on his wife's nipple, like a helpless babe. She stroked his hair, which hadn't been cut since his trip to the hospital. She made
a mental note to get it trimmed, in a style that would match the new look he was getting.
"There's my good little guy," she soothed. "Just keep sucking like that." Her hand slipped down between his legs, to his smooth crotch, and the male organ that had dwindled to half its former dimensions, as his testicles had done too. "Trust in me. Just in me. Close your eyes, Flower. Trust in me."
Now, when she spoke to Dave on the phone, she put the instrument on speaker. Fowler was usually busy doing one sort of housework or another, and not always near her. She would often move around the house during those chats, allowing him to hear part of what was said but never all of it. Was it Fowler's imagination, or where the two of them cooing at each other like lovebirds? He was wracked by jealousy, even though he couldn't be sure anything was going on. His emotions entered an elevated state, as if he was a teenage girl with love issues. Frequently, the stress made him bite his lips. Tina noted some damage there and applied
flavored balm. She also used skin conditioner that made him think of the foundation she used on her own face, before applying cosmetics. It was all so confusing.
In small steps, his wardrobe became evermore feminine. He was put into loose blouses and retro-stylish culottes. It still might have qualified
as unisex but only with the broadest interpretation of that style. She snipped his hair into bangs and trimmed it evenly the rest of the way around, giving him a Dutch bob. Products were used, that she said were merely to make it more manageable, though which he was sure were giving it fullness and shape. What was put onto his lips gained color and thickness.
"Hi, babe," she said into her phone one afternoon. Fowler had lost track of his own phone. He hadn't seen his wallet in a long time. Or his keys. Who was his wife talking to? "How's my Dave doing today?" That answered one question. "When are you going to come and visit?" That answered another, one which Fowler hadn't even though to ask. Why would
she be encouraging him to show up at their door? "Friday at eight? Terrific." It was as if they were making a date. Fowler wrung his hands and pressed his thighs together, forgetting for the moment the dust rag he held. "I'm sure Flower will like seeing you."
After the call ended, he meekly asked her, "Did you call me something else, instead of my regular name?"
"Sure. That's my new nickname for you. Flower. I knew you'd like it. And you can call me..." She grew thoughtful, as if there wasn't a name she had already thought up, perhaps with input from Dave. "Miss Tina. That's what you can call me. I'll love you for doing it."
That sense of wanting to please her had persisted and grown more powerful. He lowered his eyes and said, "Yes, Miss Tina."
"Thank you, Flower."
He was restless after that, aware that Dave would be coming to visit. Fowler was only dimly aware of how much he had been changed. He didn't even know that he spoke softly and with deference. His wife had discouraged him from taking long strides and walking flatfooted, so that now his gait was mincing. At least, he consoled himself, she would find his male clothes, which he hadn't seen in recent memory, and let him wear them when their guest came. He would summon up some of his old bravado
and she'd see how he was more macho than that guy from her past. It was going to be a fun evening for Fowler, though not for Flower.
When the appointed day arrived, he was on the verge of speaking up for himself. Tina got him off his chosen path by declaring that the bathroom needed a top-to-bottom cleaning. He was flustered but no longer able to object, no matter what he had been telling himself. She put him into an old housecoat that she had picked up at a thrift store, a woman's pajama top with wide vertical stripes in rainbow colors, garish lounge pants, and big fuzzy slippers. The final insult was a mob cap that she tugged down, making sure that his hair stuck out messily from under the elastic. He felt ridiculous but figured he could change into a sport shirt and slacks before Dave showed up. She acted like there was plenty of time and went to get freshened up. He was caught off guard when a knock came at the door.
"Flower," his wife said calmly, "go answer the door." When he didn't jump to comply, she added in a sharper tone, "NOW."
He opened the door and there stood Dave, tall and good-looking. Tina's friend was dressed in a sport coat, pinstriped shirt, and pressed slacks, with slip-on shoes. Fowler stared in startled confusion.
Dave gave him a crooked smile and said, "Is the man of the house in?"
Fowler mumbled something and stepped out of the way. Dave entered. He went to the living room. With impeccable timing, Tina appeared. She was in a snug top and tight slacks, with her figure nicely shown off. When she opened her arms to Dave, he went to her and they embraced. Fowler watched from inside the closed front door. He was disconcerted to see them kiss, though it wasn't passionate. Tina motioned Dave to the sofa and sat by his side, quite close.
She asked Dave, "Would you like something to drink? I have two bottles of wine chilled. White and red."
"I'll have a glass of red," he said amiably. To her husband she said, "And white for me."
Not knowing what else to do, he headed for the kitchen. Why hadn't she sent him to change? He wanted his male clothes. Fowler poured two glasses and returned, holding them by their stems, with his pinky fingers extended. His wife and her guest were having a friendly conversation. After giving them the drinks, he tried to excuse himself.
She told him, "You can stay here in case we need anything else. I have something for you to slip into later, so Dave can see you the way you usually are."
"Um..." Fowler glanced around, as if seeking a route of escape. "Yes,
Miss Tina."
She said, "And you can call my special friend 'Sir'."
When had Dave become a special friend, and exactly what did that imply? Fowler went to the corner and stood there, feeling out of place. He listened to them talk for about twenty minutes while they enjoyed their wine.
His wife said to him, "Tell Dave how you make yourself useful around the house, Flower."
He cringed inwardly at that name. In his wispy voice he said, "I clean and... do laundry... which is sort of the same as cleaning... and whatever else Miss Tina tells me to do, Sir."
The fact that he couldn't think of a better answer made him feel stupid. He just wanted to flee the scene of his embarrassment. Instead, Tina decided that it was time for him to show himself in a better light.
She instructed, "Go to the guest bedroom and put on what pretties I laid out for you." When he stood there nervously licking his lips, she added, "Or if you don't think you can do it by yourself, I can come and help you. In fact, Dave can come too, so he can see how much pleasure you take in playing dress-up."
The thought of another guy seeing him undressing and putting on more girly clothes made him hold up his hands, palms forward, and back toward the hall. He turned and hurried off, to the sound of laughter behind him. When he got to the unoccupied room, he saw what was waiting for him
and gasped. On the bed was a colorful sleeveless top that would show
off
the lack of hair under his arms. It was cut short to leave the wearer's midriff bare. Then there were low-riding pants, in red, that were covered with layers of ruffles from the tops of the legs to the wide cuffs. They made him think of calypso dancers. There were also bikini- style panties and golden pumps with one-inch heels. This outfit would be as unwanted as the cleaning woman drag that he currently sported, but in a different way. With a sigh of resignation, he began to undress.
Once he had finished changing, he went reluctantly back toward the living room. At the end of the hall, he stopped.
In a small voice, he asked, "Should I come out now?" "Please do, Flower," his wife said.
"Yeah," seconded Dave. "I want to see the real person my girlfriend married."
He took tiny steps. The sight of him made them rock with laughter. Tina had a small zipper-bag, which turned out to contain cosmetics. She had him kneel in front of her. In that humble position, he had to remain still while she made up his face. There had only been touches of make-up until that point. He could tell by the effort she was making that there was more than that now. She also fluffed up his hair. When she was done, he had to move to the middle of the room, like some kind of bizarre exhibit.
"But your hands on your hips," she told him. "Pull back your elbows. Pucker up that pretty mouth."
Dave took a picture with his phone. Fowler was outraged but swallowed
his anger. He had to continue with a series of marginally erotic poses, all of which were similarly recorded. They made him refill their glasses. He worried that if they got tipsy, it might inspire them to inflict even more imaginative indignities on him.
Tina said, "Let's get some fun shots of you with a prop." From between the cushions of the sofa she extracted something, obviously hidden there earlier, in anticipation of this time. It was a long thick dildo with a bulbous head, in realistic flesh tones. He goggled at it in disbelief. She tossed it to him and he fumbled, letting it fall to the floor.
"Miss Clumsy," she said with feigned exasperation. "Just for dropping it on purpose, you can pick it up with your teeth, darling."
"I... I can't do that." He sniffled.
Dave told him, "You can do it on your own, or I can make you do it."
Fowler was so mentally emasculated by then that he had nothing with which
to oppose the interloper in his home. He sank slowly to his knees. The sex toy was not in easy reach, so he had to shuffle forward like that. Then he bent low, with both hands flat on the carpet. The dildo was at an angle, so he turned his head to line his mouth up with it, then bit down on the firm rubber. He raised his head, with it clenched between his teeth, resembling a dog with a bone.
Tina must have gotten that mental picture, because she congratulated him with, "Good doggy."
Dave expanded that to, "Good bitch doggy."
Fowler's insides tightened up but his annoyance had no outlet. Dave made him sit up on his haunches, in a canine begging pose. Tina clapped and laughed. Dave took yet another picture. Fowler's wife made him drop the faux phallus at her feet.
She picked it up, gave it an underhand toss across the room, and hollered, "Fetch!"
He knew better than to stand up. On all fours, in that shameful outfit, he went to again clutch it between his jaws, and then return it to his Mistress, which was what he saw her as in this scenario. The hapless husband was made to roll over with the shameful object still in his mouth. Then he had to offer it to her again. This time, she accepted it, aimed it at his lips, and brought it forward. It touched his face.
"Open wide, puppy."
She inserted it, deep enough to trigger his gag reflex. Then she backed it partway out and ordered him to hold it there with only his lips.
Dave said, "I think it's time to give Flower the good news."
Tina told him, "Let me be the one to do it." She smirked down at her husband. "Now that Dave has seen you are zero competition for him in this house, and because his apartment lease runs out in a few days, I've invited him to move in." Fowler's eyes went wide. He made a distressed sound but didn't neglect the order to maintain his lips-only hold on the dildo. "He'll share the main bedroom with me, and you'll get the smaller one, Flower. It makes perfect sense, if you think about it. Don't you agree, sweetie?"
He nodded, the rear half of the dildo bisecting his field of vision. He
whimpered around the invading artificial cock.
Dave took over, telling him, "In case you haven't figured it out yet, the condition that sent you to get medical help was artificially created. While you were doped up for a week, all sorts of clever things were done to you to alter your mind and body. What they did inside your head will start to wear off now. The way your body has changed will keep progressing. In fact, lose that dildo and strip for me, so I can see the new figure that you've been growing."
Instead of speaking up for her spouse, Tina tittered. Fowler got to his feet. He pulled the top over his head, aware that it would disorder his hair. Then he got out of the shoes and worked the pants down his hairless legs. In only the tiny panties he had to remain still while their eyes ran over him.
Dave said, "Let's see what you're hiding between your legs. While it's covered, there's barely even a bump."
Fowler cringed. He didn't want to give them a look at his shrunken genitals. Still unable to assert his will, he hooked his fingers under the elastic waistband. The most he could do to preserve even a modicum of modesty, was to turn his back. That, unfortunately for him, gave them a clear view of his bottom. He was aware that he had filled out in that area, as well as on his thighs. The uneasy husband lowered his last bit of clothing and stepped out of it. With the panties hanging from his limp-wristed hand, he faced the seated pair.
"Jeez, Louise," exclaimed Dave. "There's not much left in the cock region. I'd say that tiny thing is about an inch long."
"And it doesn't get much bigger when he's hard," Tina informed him. "Let
me demonstrate."
She got up and went to her husband. Fowler retreated two steps, with his forearms crossed over his boobs, which were now the size of muffins, with
prominent nipples. When she scowled at him, he stopped trying to avoid her and protect himself. Tina's thumbs and forefingers took hold of those tempting nips and she rolled them between her digits. Fowler moaned, with his eyes half-lidded and his lips parted. His tongue lolled out of his mouth. When she stepped aside, Dave saw that she had given him an erection.
"Holy shortfall," he remarked. "You were right about it not growing much. I think now he's barely up to the two-inch mark. And it's proportionately slim."
"Every time I get it to stand up," Tina said, "the sight makes me laugh. I mean, a dick that size it almost totally useless. The only thing it's any good for is getting him overexcited."
To show what she meant, she put her thigh between her husband's legs and rubbed it against his crotch. He whimpered and reflexively tried to hump her soft flesh. Dave snickered at the picture that made.
"He's a total failure as a man now," Dave concluded.
"To make him understand that better, we need to let him see himself in the big mirror in the bedroom."
"The bedroom that he's getting kicked out of."
Dave clamped his hand on the back of Fowler's neck. He steered the soft-
bodied male to the bedroom. When Fowler saw himself, with his mini-dick still stiff, he bit his lips to keep from crying out. The nipples on
his
new tits were firm with arousal. His body, devoid of hair and full in
the hips, had a weirdly androgynous character. On top of everything else, the make-up that his wife had applied was intentionally overdone. His eyes and mouth really popped. As much as he tried to contain his reaction, he couldn't. He burst out crying and clapped his hands over his titties, creating a pose that made him appear even more girly.
"Oh, please," he entreated them. "You have to change me back. I can't stay like this."
"Well," Dave said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, "there's a problem with that. It's been long enough now that your system has adapted to the changes that were made in it. Your hormone balance was disrupted and now
the new version has become permanent. You'd better get used to it, because your body is only going to get less and less masculine."
Tina chortled. "Until you have a better figure than me, Flower."
"When we take you out in public, guys won't be able to keep their eyes off your T&A."
Fowler blubbered. His mind was trying to revert to its former state, but would only recover so much. He would be capable of understanding how ruinous his situation was, but not of defying it. His spouse brought him an abbreviated top, bedwear meant less for sleeping that for seduction. It was short and lightweight and transparent. She had him raise his arms so she could slip it on him, straightening the spaghetti straps on his shoulders. It ended just below his cupcake tits, which held it slightly
away from his body.
"There's one more thing for us to do," Dave declared. "Before we move Flower into her new bedroom, and start redecorating it, she needs to see the two of us doing the deed, to drive home the message that she isn't and will never again be anything but a sissy around here."
"Poor baby," Tina said with mock sympathy. "And he used to be such a cock-of-the-walk."
"And now he doesn't have a cock," Dave amplified. "Just a nubbin."
"He already has to sit to tinkle. Plus, it will get even tinier, with the process still taking place."
"Until what's left will be so miniaturized that it will require a major effort for him to ever get any relief."
"Of course, I won't slow down on all the teasing I do, to keep his sexual temperature on a constant simmer, just below the boiling point."
Fowler's knees threatened to buckle. In the mirror, he saw the lovers undressing each other. When his wife was naked, she came and wrapped her
arms around him from behind, so that their bodies were pressed together.
"Get ready for the show," she whispered into is ear. "You're going to see Dave doing what you'll never get to do again, and doing it so much more competently than you were ever capable of." Tina turned him around to face the bed. She went on, "You can play with those magic buttons on your chest. I'm sure it will be extra thrilling to rub that gauzy material over them. But don't get your hopes up for making your pop-gun
pop. It will take a lot more than that to make it fire."
Fowler believed him. He had an urgent need to empty his diminished testicles but could tell it would be a Sisyphean task to accomplish that. A sissy Sisyphean job. Though the effort was doomed to failure, he brought up his hands and moved the diaphanous material over the twin erogenous zones, making himself hiss wordlessly with need.
His wife and his replacement got onto the bed. Dave had an above average cock, which contrasted dramatically with Fowler's now laughably substandard one. The capable man mounted Tina, with his rampant rod poised at the entrance to her love sheath. He eased in, to the accompaniment of her appreciative purring. Once he was buried to his balls, he set up a mid-range tempo. She writhed under him. What Fowler was forced to watch simultaneously battered his ego and put his urges into overdrive. The pair on the bed went on tirelessly, while the frustration of their audience-of-one mounted to new extremes. When they were launched into twin orgasms, Fowler's hips bucked but relief eluded him. His shoulders sagged and his balls ached.
Over time, Fowler's mind continued to clear. His bad attitude and mistreatment of his wife had led to this. He was trapped in a feminized body, at the mercy of Tina and Dave. Once his wife's new partner was moved in, Fowler -- now Flower all the time -- was reduced to the level of a domestic servant. The husband's curves continued to expand. His revised wardrobe did, as well. He had to see his wife sharing herself with a virile man. It was sheer emotional torment, yet he had no alternative. Along with everything else, his craving for sexual stimulation became never-ending, even though he knew that relief would remain forever elusive. The few ejaculations he had from his shrunken balls were weak and ultimately unsatisfying.
By the time they started taking him out, he had an impressive bust that Tina dressed him to emphasize. She did the same for his wide bottom. They took him to a sex shop and selected a dildo for him. It was thick and bright red, with bumps all along its considerable length. That model was called The Devil's Own. Back at the house, they allowed him to use it on himself, hinting that if he inserted it up his bunghole, and pumped himself vigorously, it might more easily produce the climaxes for which he so desperately longed. Sure enough, with them watching and mocking, he was able to make his penis, now only an inch long when erect, feebly squirt some semen into his free hand. After he licked clean his palm, they decided that, based on how well he did his chores and behaved, he would be allowed to use the fat sex toy on special occasions, though he would remain maddeningly horny the rest of the time. For Flower, it was a welcome gift. He thanked them profusely and afterward, despite still longing for his lost maleness, made a conscientious attempt to always be the best sissy he could for his considerate owners.
