Saturday Night Sissy! By Throne (38 Pages) (Patreon)

Saturday Night Sissy!

By Throne

© 2019-2020 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. 

SATURDAY NIGHT SISSY 

by Throne

I spend all week, every week, dreading Saturday.  My wife Alana met Dutch several months ago.  I knew my bride had a past as a party girl, and that she still flirted with men.  Male eyes always went to her, a tall girl with a stunning figure -- big bust, tapering waist, flaring hips, full thighs and, most of all, a plus-size bottom that sticks way out and moves like it's on springs.  Dutch was the kind of guy she used to date -- big, rough, uncouth.  The moment her girlfriend Cindy introduced them she was attracted to him, and it was mutual.  Alana made no secret of the fact that she had married me because I was a stabilizing influence, with my small build and timid nature.  At the same time, there was always an undercurrent of restlessness in her.  Once Dutch appeared, that turned into a torrent. 

They kept running into each other at different places, usually when she was out with Cindy.  The women would go for a drink or two at a roadhouse outside of town, and there would be Dutch.  They'd stop in a sports bar to get burgers and he would be at the bar.  My wife always reported back to me in detail about how confident and funny he was.  When they encountered him -- again -- in a place with a jukebox playing, the two of them shared a few dances.  Fast ones and then a slow one to a long song.  She knew how insecure I am.  The fear of having her taken away from me was always in the back of my mind.  So every time she came home and went on and on about Dutch, I suffered deep pangs of jealousy. 

Then came the Friday when she didn't show up until after midnight, her long auburn hair mussed and her clothes slightly disarrayed.  I started to say something about how worried I'd been but when she gave me a sexily suggestive look I couldn't speak. 

"What's the matter, Will?" she wanted to know.  "You look like you just got caught with your hand in your pants."

That was mean of her.  Alana understood all too well how touchy I was about my penis.  Along with my short stature I got underequipped in the dick department.  I'm only two inches soft and an unimpressive four when hard.  Add to that how small the head is and my immature-looking testicles, and it's something I'd rather not have mentioned.   She usually limited her comments on my penis dimensions but that night, I suppose from a combination of alcohol and excitement, she didn't hold back. 

I found my voice and said, "You don't have to get personal."

"No?  I'm the one who has to live with your..."  She held up an index finger and pointed at it to indicate my size.  "And to put up with it in bed."

"I can't help the way I'm... endowed."

"You sure can't.  But maybe I can.  Guess who I ran into tonight with Cindy?"

"It was Dutch, I assume."

"Yeah.  What a coincidence.  Sometimes I think Cindy calls him and says where we're going."  She shrugged.  "Who knows?"

"It might be better if you saw less of Cindy."  I sounded like an disapproving parent.

"I don't think so.  Because then I'd see less of Dutch.  He's so much fun.  Tonight he took me out to his truck so he could let me hear the new CD player he had put in it."

"You were out there... alone... with him?"

"Yeah.  Why?"

"I mean, you're kind of disheveled and..."

"Oh, you mean did anything happen in the parking lot?"

"Well... yes."

"Not much.  He played a few songs and we kidded around.  Then I wanted to thank him, so I gave him a kiss."

"What?"

"It wasn't anything big.  Just a kiss.  Several, if you're keeping count.  And it's not like I did it with my mouth open.  Not for the first few anyway."

"You can't do that.  We're married."

"Boo hoo.  At least with him a can have some fun.  And the drinks he bought us had me loosened up.  Nothing terrible happened.  Just some messing around.  He grabbed my tits and I had my hand on his thigh."

"You were touching each other?  Intimately?"

"Not too much.  Except when I tried to give his leg a squeeze I got more than I expected.  My hand was on his trouser snake, which was so big it was hard to miss."

"Did... did anything else happen?"

"No," she said. 

I heaved a sigh of relief and told her, "I'm glad to hear that."

She went on, "But I'll get another chance tomorrow.  We're getting together again -- minus Cindy."

Alana put her hands on her wide hips and gazed down at me from her superior height.   I tried to find the right words but just stood there with my mouth open.  Finally I was able to tell her, "That's a bad idea."

"So is having sex with you.  Your peter is so little that, if it was a gun, you couldn't find bullets small enough to fit it."  She laughed at her own remark.  "You've got a tiny willy, Will.  You're a small-dick man."

"I'm still your husband."

She made a sour face and said, "Don't remind me.  It's been way too long since I've had a real cock in my life.  And stop giving me that sad puppy look.  It's just something I need.  I'll still be coming home to you..."  She paused for effect.  "... and your puny pickle."

I stood there with my shoulders sagging and my eyes downcast.  Alana embraced me and pulled my face against her generous bosom.  She rubbed it against me.  When I didn't do anything assertive, she took my wrists, pulled my hands around behind her, and planted my palms against her protruding bottom cheeks. 

"Come on now, lover boy.  Let's hit the sheets and you can try to convince me not to stray.  You know what might work?  You could do what I'm always asking you to."

"You mean...?"

She held up her first two fingers, poked her tongue between them, and licked up and down.  My wife wanted me to use my mouth on her, where her legs meet.  I felt ill just thinking about it.  Alana was familiar with the look that put on my face, as if I had bad indigestion. 

"It's your decision," she pointed out.  "If you want to try keeping me at home."

A gagging sound came from my throat.  "I just can't."

"Good.  I wouldn't want anything to spoil my plans.  Tomorrow night maybe I'll be gagging on something.  A king-size something."

She laughed, went around me, and headed to the bedroom.  I followed her, feeling miserable.   When I got there she was undressing.  That stopped me where I stood.  My wife looked amazing.  As pieces of clothing came off -- the sleeveless top, tight slacks, queen-size bra -- all I could do was stare, with my genitals tingling.  She snapped her fingers at me.

"Get over here and pull down my panties.  Come on, Romeo.  Hop to it."

Intimidated by her self assurance and total lack of guilt, I went to her, knelt, hooked my fingers under the waistband, and carefully shimmied the lingerie over her broad hips and down her plump but firm thighs, past her solid calves, to her ankles.  She stepped out of them, kicked them aside, and sat on the edge of the bed.  Her knees went far apart and she pointed to her lewdly displayed vagina, a triangle of light brown hair above it. 

"Come on, Will.  Dinner is served.  Get it while it's hot.  And wet."

"No," I told her in a small defensive voice.  "You know I'm not able to... to..."

"Eat my pussy?   Your loss.  And maybe a much bigger loss tomorrow.  You don't have the pecker or the tongue to keep me satisfied.  Think about it, shrimp-dick." 

Alana laid back and pulled up her legs.  I hurriedly got undressed and stretched out alongside her.  I guess that somewhere in my mind her intoxicated state would lead to me at least getting to have intercourse.  My hopes rose when she reached over and pulled me.  I got up against to her, our naked bodies pressed together.  It was wildly exciting, despite everything else that had happened.  Her soft hand went between us and found my member.  It was so stiff that it hurt.  My scrotum was pulled up tight.

She murmured, "So itty bitty.  It doesn't even fill my hand."

Her fingers tightened and loosened several times, but not enough to make me finish, which at the moment I could have done in seconds if she'd only kept going.  Still, it was more than enough to keep my arousal at a fever pitch.  I lay there groaning and writhing, desperate for some relief, but she skillfully kept me on edge while she continued to quietly disparage my manhood. 

"So tiny.  Like some kind of slim cookie.  Or an appetizer.  Finger food.  Whatever.  But it will never be enough for me.  Or any woman."  Her breathy laugh was almost silent.  "Too bad for you, Will."

Alana's grip relaxed and she crossed the line between waking and sleeping.  All I could do was lie there, maddeningly frustrated.  I reached out and brushed the tips of my fingers over the smooth skin of her arm.  Somehow I didn't feel worthy of sneaking a touch of any other part of my wife.  An hour later, or maybe two, I at last got to sleep.

All the next day I was tense.  My dinner went largely untouched.  Alana kept flashing me devilish smiles.  At last eight o'clock arrived.  A vehicle pulled up out front.  My bride was ready, in a tight dress that advertised her exceptional curves, and heels that enhanced her already shapely legs.  She had fussed with her hair and spent extra time on her make-up.  I thought she had too much mascara and lipstick but was too nervous to risk saying anything.  She opened the front door and threw a kiss back at me.  I caught a glimpse of a black truck with oversized tires.  Then she was gone.  I spent the next four hours alternately pacing and doing housework. 

In my mind she was going to return at midnight, like last time.  But it wasn't until one when he dropped her off.  Dutch walked her to our door.  I had an awful vision of some of the neighbors seeing that.  But then I realized they were probably all asleep.  He was a tall hulking figure.  Alana let herself in.  Her lipstick was smeared and the straps of her dress were uneven.  She came toward me, swaying slightly.  Her arms went around my neck and she pulled me in to plant a wet kiss on my mouth.  Her tongue jabbed between my lips.  She tasted odd, salty, and I wondered what sort of food they had been eating.  Probably something served by the bar to make them thirsty and inspire more drinking.  She released me and stepped back to give me a drunken smile.

My plan had been to remain calm.  Not let her see how stressed I was.  And to allow her to tell me as much as she wished, when she wanted.  Instead I held out my hands pleadingly.

"Did anything happen?" I wanted to know, sounding concerned but not angry.  I was too cowed for anger.  And in hopeful denial.  "Did you do... it?"

"You mean did we screw our brains out?  Drive to some cheap motel and jump into bed?"  She waited for me to react.  I nodded weakly.  "No.  We didn't."

As if to reassure me, Alana moved in again to repeat her passionate kissing.  She kept her mouth on mine until I thought I would smother.  And whatever that flavor was, Mexican food or something, made my nose crinkle.   At last she backed away and I took a deep breath.

"Thank goodness," I said.  "No sex."

"Nope.  But I gave him a blowjob that would make a whore blush.   And he blasted a record-breaking load of spunk."

"What?"  I clapped my hands over my mouth.  "But you... rinsed.  Or had another drink."

"No way.  I saved the best for last.  In his truck in the parking lot.  You know, my hands were all over his big tool for like an hour.  But I didn't make him bust his nut until late.  Wanted to bring something home for you.  As a treat."

When I turned away, choking from disgust, she grabbed the back of my shirt collar and held me where I was.  "Don't run off, mister.  You and your mini-prick stay right here.  You aren't allowed to brush your teeth or drink water or anything.  Both of us are going to go to bed and wake up tasting Dutch's cream."   She licked her lips.  "Yum."

After that she made me undress.  Then I had to strip her.  She teased me with her body, squirming against me until I was almost cross-eyed from unmet needs.  Then she turned her back and shoved her magnificent rear end at me, backing me up against the wall.  Alana did a sort of vertical lap dance, not stopping until I whimpered from unrelieved sexual pressure.  She spun around, playfully cupped my balls in her warm hand, and gave them a tender massage.

"Poor Will," she said with a pout.  "His dick is so small that his own wife doesn't want it.  He might never ever get into her pussy again.  All because his tool isn't the size of something  a plumber would use.  It'd be better for a dentist.  To get into small spaces.  But Dutch's tool is heavy duty.  You wouldn't believe how it stretched my jaws.  And my throat.  I thought I might be out of practice.  But I guess deep-throating is like riding a bicycle -- once you learn how, you never forget."

"Please.  Stop  telling me."

"About what?  How I took my dress halfway off so he could paw my tits?  And how I put my panties in my purse so he could finger my pussy all he wanted?  His fingers are bigger than your baby dick."

"But he didn't do more than just... touch you... down there?"

She rolled her eyes.  "No, Will.  He didn't hump me.  If there had been more room in the truck maybe we would have gone all the way.  Or not.  He wants to see me again next Saturday.  Dutch said it'll be better if I have to wait.  Isn't he a bastard?"  She chuckled.  "A bastard with a miracle cock.  Speaking of which, you can stay naked all night and tomorrow morning until I tell you different.  It's good for you to have that sad imitation of a real cock out where both of us can always see it.  That way we can never forget why I had to start seeing Dutch."  She snickered.  "You drove me into the arms of another man."

Alana was getting tired from her drinking and all the making out.  My wife got into bed and summoned me to put myself alongside her, like I had done the previous night.  She repeated her performance of mercilessly teasing me.  I ended up being urged down along the mattress until my face was against her pubic mound.

She declared, "I know you won't eat pussy, but you can stay there and sniff it.  I must smell plenty heated up after how many hours I've been wet between the legs.  So just keep inhaling my pussy perfume and thinking about why there's so much of it, loser.  Think about what a waste that puppy treat you grew where a cock should be is to me.  Picture yourself spending lots of nights like this, so close to your hot wife, and not getting anything from her except foreplay.  In fact..."

She curled toward me, her long arms stretched out, and she found my nipples with her fingers.  My wife stroked and tweaked and pulled until I was blubbering.  Alana even wet her fingertips to energize those erogenous zones still more.  Not until I was a sniffling wreck did she relent.  Then she turned her back and invited me to put myself in close contact with her.  I got my hips against her bottom, so that my stiff undersized penis was pressed firmly against one of her plush buttocks.  She left me like that while she drifted off to sleep.  The same as the last time, I was awake for hours before rest came to me.

The next morning Alana had another surprise in reserve.  She told me, "I forgot it last night, I guess because I was so high on Dutch's incredible cock, but he decided there was something you had to do.  To help you remember where you stand."

"But you already told me to be naked.   So my genitals would be exposed.  And..."

"And you wouldn't be able to forget for even a second that you have a miniature dick.  I remember.  But this might be even better.  Dutch doesn't want you getting any ideas about being a real man in any other way, either.  So he..."  She thought for a second.  "Go get my handbag.  I'll show you what he gave me."

Now what?  I scampered off, aware of my nudity and how it must be effecting Alana's perception of me, not just because my dick was on display, but because I was nude and she wore a short robe.  When I came back she held out her hand.  I gave her the bag and from it she produced...

My wife quizzed, "Know what this is?"

"It's an... electric razor?"

"Close.  It's a laser hair remover.  Same idea.  And Dutch wants you to use it all over your soft pale body.  I have to report to him that you got rid of every single hair below your eyebrows.  Or else he'll stop in to ask you why not.  How about that?"

"But I'll look like a... a girl or something."

"Exactly.  He used the word sissy, which I think is closer to the truth.  My sissy husband with his dwarf dick and soon no body hair.   Pink and smooth all over.  So that you'll have two reminders of how much of a man you're not.  In fact, go to the bathroom now and try it."

"I haven't even had my coffee yet."

"You're too excitable already.  No coffee for you until further notice.  Now jump to it, wuss."

I went miserably to the bathroom.  The situation was spinning out of control.  Dutch was dictating what I had to do and he wasn't even there.  Still, the alternative was to have him show up and confront me directly.  So I decided on a strategic retreat, as if I had a position to fall back from, turned on the instrument, and began to run it over anywhere my sparse pale hair grew.  The light strands vanished as if by magic.  It was disconcerting to watch my arms and legs loose what little hirsuteness they had possessed.  And it honestly did make me look feminine.  I shuddered at the direction I was being made to take, and hoped that I would not have to go any further. 

When Alana saw my newly hair-free body she laughed out loud.  "That is priceless," she declared.  "I can't wait to tell Dutch.  In fact..."  She rummaged in her bag and came out with her phone.  "... I'll do it right now.  And put it on speaker, so you can feel included, Will.  You and your pathetic sprout."

When I reflexively tried to cover my penis and bald crotch with my hands, she waved at me and told me that was forbidden.  I would be naked and hairless and not permitted to cover up. 

A deep male voice came from the phone, saying, "Yo, babe.  You were terrific last night.  Got a mouth like a vacuum cleaner.  Super suction."

"Glad you liked it.  That club you're carrying is pretty spectacular, too."

He chortled.  "Did you give the gadget to your jerk of a husband?"

"Oh yes.  And I just made him use it.  You were right.  It definitely makes him look like a swish."

"That's what he needs.  To look like what he is.  You can slap some make-up on him, too, just in case he tries to tell himself he's macho."

"Great idea."

"And like I said, I'll be out of town for work.  I'll be opening that new gym about fifty miles away.  But I'll see you next Saturday.  Right?"

It was less of an invitation than a direct order.  Instead of being insulted or expecting more consideration, Alana was thrilled to be told what she would be doing.  She said, "I'll be ready."

"Cool.  I might want another of those killer BJs."

"Sure.  But only if it's to get you rock hard so you can slam my pussy."

"Oh yeah," he said as if just remembering.  "You did say something about wanting to get properly laid."

"Damn right.  I haven't had my puss stretched since before I got hitched to Mr. Four Inches."

"Only four inches soft?"

"No.  I told you.  Four inches hard.  Four pitiful skinny inches."

A barking laugh came from the phone.  "Yeah.  I know.  But I also know you get off on dissing him.  I think it gets you started up."

"It does.  In fact, right now I'm all wet below the belt."

"So check the fridge.  See if you have a zucchini or something in the vegetable drawer."

They both laughed.  It was like I wasn't even there for those few seconds.  Then they exchanged some words of, if not love, certainly lust.  I was already obsessing over their next get-together and what it might mean for me. 

*********

For that entire week, when I was home I was almost always unclothed.  My non-hirsute body was the target of endless taunts from Alana.  She called me 'Hairless Hanna' and 'Bald-ass Betty'.  I hated those female names.  She could tell I hated them.  So she made sure to use them at every possible chance.  There were also cosmetics, as Dutch had suggested.  Mascara, eye shadow, blush, and lipstick, all applied with a light touch.  Midway through the week she added shiny, clear lip gloss on my mouth.  Saturday took forever to get there but it still arrived too soon.  At eight I had to stand in the living room, naked, smooth everywhere, cosmetics done, while she had me do a last check of her outfit.  This time it was shorts that allowed the bottom half of each butt cheek to show, and a top that left uncovered plenty of side-boob, along with wedge sandals on her petite feet.  She admired her nail polish and asked for my opinion of everything.

Still wanting to appease her, I said, "I think Dutch will like it all."  At least I was keeping a level head. 

"I could invite him in to find out what he thinks of you.  Maybe he'd want to switch from me to my sissy.  Some guys would grab you in a second."

That disturbed me.  My aloof façade shattered.  I begged, "Please don't let him look at me like this."

"No?  You think you're such hot date bait that he might make a move?  Well..."  She leaned forward to give me an eyeful of her deep cleavage.  "I still have a few advantages over you."  

Alana swung around, walked briskly out of the house, and left me with a racing heart and a long list of household chores.  I wasn't done my assigned work until about five minutes before she came home. 

As she strolled through the front door and across the living room, I knew without being told that she and Dutch had consummated their relationship.  She wore a dreamy expression and carried her bag by its long strap, instead of wearing it over her shoulder.   A lock of dark hair fell across her smooth brow.  I wanted to cry.  She approached me, had me open the bag, and pulled out her panties. 

My wife announced, "I didn't want to get Dutch's spunk all over these.  But then I used them to wipe up with."  She patted the soiled underwear against my nose, making me recoil.  "Be a good sissy and start up the shower.  I got incredibly sweaty in bed with Dutch.  That man can go and go and go, unlike some people I could name.  And that knockout cock of his left me feeling like a total woman.  It also left a huge mess where the panties couldn't reach."  Alana caught me off guard as she brushed her soiled lingerie against my lips.  "So get busy with my shower.  That is, unless you'd rather do a clean-up where I need it with your tongue.  Some sissies go for that."

"Ugh," I croaked.  "Not that.  Please.  I'll get the shower."

"That's my girl.  And when we go to bed remind me that I have another gift for you from my lover.  I know you're going to love it."

I ran a warm but not hot shower for Alana.  When she was done she stepped out and told me to fetch a large fluffy towel and dry her.  I did it gingerly, accomplishing my purpose but also driving myself crazy with urgent need.  My little dick stood at attention.  She noticed and flicked it with her forefinger before toying with my nipples.  Not until I was panting did she cease.  Then I had to trail along after her to he bedroom, watching her bare backside roll in front of me, so near and yet inaccessible unless she granted permission.  My wife had me powder her all over, again letting me get so close without directly touching her.  I longed to caress her satiny skin.

"Now lets see what Dutch picked out for you," she said, going into her copious shoulder bag.  "What could it be?  What does every sissy need?"

When Alana pulled out my present, like a magician producing a rabbit from a hat, I gaped.  This couldn't be right.

"I can't wear those," I said in a small voice.  "They're... panties."

"Smart girl.  You got it on the first guess.  And of course you can wear them.  They're pink.  And lacy.  And cut like a bikini bottom.  What more do you want?  Don't be a drama queen.  Model them for me."  When I stalled she added, "Don't make me call Big Dutch.  You don't want to make him come over here this late.  Not that I'd mind seeing him again.  He could sleep over."

"He's going to be here all week?"

"No, imbecile.  I meant just through tomorrow.  He has his new gym opened, but now he's behind of checking in on the other six he owns.  Or is it eight?  Whatever.  But he's a hands-on guy.  I can testify to that.  He's hands-on and cock-in."

She shook the panties at me.  I reluctantly accepted them.  They appeared too small but then, as I handled them, I realized the material was stretchy.  I stepped into the filmy lingerie and worked them up my unmanly legs.  The sensation of panties on my smooth skin was electrifying.  My cock tingled and I was afraid of getting stiff.  What would Alana say to that?  She smoothed the panties down, back and front.  Her fingers lingered on the latter area and, against my will, I did get hard.  She tittered at that reaction and patted my straining penis. 

"You'd better push that deadly weapon of yours down and tuck it back.  I wouldn't want my sissy getting any wild ideas about being capable of doing anything with that measly mistake of hers."

I whispered, "Yes, dear."  Then I aimed my dick at the floor and pushed it back as far as I could, before I tugged the panties up so it would stay in place.

Alana said, "Keep your pretty thighs close together, Will.  Or let's make that Wilma.  Yes.  Wilma the Sissy.  That's funny.  Now walk that way, without letting your dainty dingus escape.   Like that.  Tiny mincing steps.  I love how it makes your bottom twitch left and right.   So cute.  I'm thinking we really should have Dutch stop in and take a peek.  After all, he's the one with all those wonderful ideas for you.  Isn't he?"

As much as I wanted to scream and run away, I meekly told her, "Yes, darling.  I'm sure you're right."  Then I found enough willpower to murmur, "But Dutch might not like it.  Might not want to be around a... sissy."

"I'm sure he could handle himself.  Thanks for agreeing that he should get to know you.  I'm sure he'll be flattered that his sweet creation wants to get up close and personal."

She was misrepresenting my wishes but I still didn't object.  Instead, I averted my eyes and mumbled assent.  Alana pinched my bottom.   When I said I had to empty my bladder she gave me permission to 'go potty' but cautioned me to hurry straight back.   When I reappeared she was in bed, on her side, with her lovely back facing me.  I got in next to her, as usual, eager for her to make me hold myself against her warmth.  Instead she ordered me to slide down.  It put my face at the same level as her rump.  Her wide, well-upholstered hemispheres.

"We don't want your nose to get chilly, Wilma.  So just tuck it into the crack of my ass."  I was so well conditioned by then that I did it without thinking and breathed in her musky scent.  It made me wonder what else I would do without protesting.  She made me diddle my own nipples, saying it was a very sissy thing to do.  Then she allowed me to stroke my immature penis a dozen times only.

"Just use your thumb and one finger," she instructed.  "That's plenty for an itsy bitsy toy like yours."  My wife giggled.  "Correct?"

"Yes, sweetheart," I told her, nose still in place.  Without being prompted I added, "My dick is so small.  So useless.  Not anywhere near to what you need."  Where had that come from?  Why was I insulting myself?  The implications were unsettling.  "Thank you for letting me play with myself."

"It's your reward for being a good sissy," she assured me, reinforcing what I was already instinctively believing.

I lowered my panties to mid-thigh and stroked myself in slow motion,  while she counted off the movements of my hand.  After it was done and I was dizzy with frustrated need, she had me slip down further than last time, roll over, and rest my head on the inside of one of her thickly padded thighs while she laid the other against the upper side of my face, pinning me between her legs.  Belatedly I understood that she had positioned me with my lower face mere inches from the center of her womanhood.  I couldn't avoid inhaling her female scent.  It was intoxicating.  In the past it would have nauseated me.  Again I had to puzzle over what sort of changes were being wrought in my mind.  I slipped into sleep in that odd spot.  When I woke the next morning I was beside her.  My mind swirled with thoughts of my hairlessness, involuntary celibacy, and the looming threat of Dutch becoming even more involved with my bride.

*********

After another week of stressing, it was Saturday night and time for Dutch to pick up my bride once more.  In advance of his appearance he sent us gifts.  They were matching nighties, short and frothy, with coordinated panties.  Alana's set was pale blue and mine was lime.  The fact that I was given what might be considered the more girly color was not lost to me.  We both put them on shortly before Dutch was due to arrive.  I didn't understand how Alana could go out dressed like that.  At eight she had still put nothing on over it.  Her feet were in high-heel bedroom slippers.  Her lover's truck pulled up out front and the engine was cut.  Moments later there was a firm knock on the front door.  My bride gestured for me to go answer it.  With ice in my heart, fearing the worst, I did as she wished.

When I opened the door I got my first close-up view of Dutch.  He was even taller than I had believed, with short dark hair and a close-trimmed mustache and goatee.  His eyes were dark and his complexion swarthy.   Over a black shirt he wore a charcoal jacket.  His slacks were navy.  Designer running shoes that looked exclusive and I didn't want to guess the price of.  He grinned at me.

"We meet at last, sissy.  Or do you prefer Wilma?"

"I..."  This could be my moment.  Maybe if I cooperated him it would help.  "Whatever you prefer, Sir," I said automatically.

"Damn.  Alana wasn't kidding.  You really are a spineless wimp.  The wimp hubby.  Now why don't you drop to your knees and thank me for keeping her happy in bed?"

"But..."

That was as far as I got before his arm came up and he settled a big hand on my shoulder.  Dutch pressed downward and my legs folded.  I sank to a kneeling position and looked up at him.  From that angle, because his pants were tight, I could see that my wife hadn't lied after their first encounter.  There was the outline of his enviable cock bulging against the fabric.  It was directly in my line of vision.  I felt more overwhelmed than ever. 

"Th... thank you, Sir," I told him in a wispy voice, sounding feminine without trying to, as if it was the result of everything else that had been changed in me.  "Thank you for... for giving my wife what I'm not..."

"Take your time, pansy. By the way, that green eye shadow goes well with the nightie I got you.  Now you were saying?  About what you can't do for her?  So I had to take over?"

"I'm... it's..."  I took a deep breath.  "I'm not... equipped to handle her sexual needs."  That was painful to say.

He noticed, "There's not much of a bump in the front of your panties, girl."

"Yes.  Yes, Sir.  I have a small... laughably small... dick."  It was like I was sealing my fate with my words.

"Agreed.  But we can help you deal with that."  He bent at the waist, cupped his hand alongside his mouth, and in a stage whisper said, "Except you're going to have to learn to eat pussy."

Alana said, "That would be nice, for when you're on the road, Dutch."

"Correct.  And at other special times.  As I'm going to demonstrate later.  But for right now -- did you have Wimpy Wilma pick up what I asked for on her way home from her bland job?"

"I did.  And she even got it right."

"There you go.  Sissies can be taught to think.  Within limits."  He switched his attention from her to me.  "So go grab me a cold beer from the fridge, Wilma Wienie.  Or make that Wilma-without-much-of-a-wienie."

Alana offered, "I prefer a nice big thick sausage."

"Woman," he said to her with feigned mild exasperation.  "All you think about is the old in-out, in-out.  We have a needy sissy here who requires our help.  I don't mean free workouts at one of my gyms, either.  I mean she has to learn the sissy arts if she's ever going to make anything of herself.  So how about if she scurries off and comes back with that bottle, two of you want one, babe, and a little later we get down to business.  Class in session.   Sissy 101."

As I turned to go and fetch, my wife put her arms around his neck and rested her cheek against his broad chest.  "Okay," she conceded.  "And yes, Wilma, I want a beer.  No glass.  I like those longneck bottles."  She grabbed Dutch's crotch as if to clarify her double meaning.  "And I suppose we do have to take care of the helpless sissy."

When I got back she was posing in front of him, turning slowly so he could admire the feast of curves that she was presenting.  Dutch nodded approvingly.  He stepped forward and grabbed both her upper arms, dragging her tightly against him, and delivering a penetrating kiss that made her shudder.

"Whoa," she said when he took his mouth from hers.  "Guess I shouldn't have worried about all the attention you were giving my panty-boy spouse."

"Don't take it too easy.  He's got a cute butt and a pretty mouth.  Turn your back and I might slip him the old tube steak."

She swatted his arm playfully.  "All right.  But not until I get mine first."

They laughed, kissed, and accepted the pair of beers I offered them. Dutch twisted off his cap and then removed hers.   He unexpectedly flipped them at me and I missed, so naturally I had to bend  over to  collect them.  

From behind me he observed, "See right there?  Your Wilma's wagging her sitter me.  I know she wants what I'm packing.  Now, Alana, your booty is the best.  The bigger the cushion, the better the pushin'.  But sometimes a man wants some variety on the menu."

"You know," she pointed out, "I don't care what you do to him.   I couldn't take that nightstick of yours as a delivery in the rear.  So bang his butt all you want.  But please, lover, let me have my fun first."

He grinned and put his palms under her heavy boobs, as if weighing them before passing some sort of judgement. Then he slid his hands down her sides and over her flaring hips. 

Dutch said, "You've still got some assets that the sissy will never have.  That's with the accent on the 'ass'.  So how if all three of us move on into your bedroom."  He took a swig of beer and checked me.  "You want a drink?  Some liquid courage?"  Before I could decide he said, "Oh, wait.  We don't have any fruity wine coolers.  Never mind.  Let's just get where we have to go."

The big man effortlessly scooped up my wife in his powerful arms and carried her up the carpeted steps and along the open hallway with its white railing, as she pointed toward the correct door.  He took her inside, with me swishing along behind, even walking that way without being told to.

Dutch observed, "Kind of like carrying the bride across the threshold."

"So you can pop my cherry," she suggested.

"Honey, that opportunity got taken way back when."

She stuck her tongue out at him and he kissed her before she could retract it.  I followed them, marveling at how much stronger he was than me.  And how they were like a couple of happy honeymooners.  This was getting worse and worse.  He laid her respectfully on the bed and then groped her thigh like a disrespectful one-night partner.  As I'd seen earlier, she loved it all.  Alana got out of her panties.  She offered them to me. 

"Here you go, Wilma.  Get your nose in these while Dutch gets his hose in me."

The imposing man signaled me with a flick of his finger, to come to him.  I approached him, filled with fear.  He must have sensed it.  Dutch took my face between his capable hands, held me like that for long seconds while he stared inscrutably into my eyes. Then, without warning, he pinched both my cheeks hard and twisted.  I wailed like a girl and collapsed.  With an amused sneer, he pushed me over backwards.

Then he snapped at me to get up on my knees.  "Move it, Lazy Susan.  These pants aren't going to take themselves off.  Give me some assistance so I can get to my job.  It's not like you can take care of your wife's needs.  Am I right or am I right?  Get me undressed so I can lay some pipe."

With unsteady hands I undid his pants.  Then I remembered that his shoes had to come off.  I struggled with them, removed his slacks, and shakily unbuttoned his shirt.  At last I had him down to just his shorts.  It was such a contrast, his fit body with natural hair on it, and my unathletic form, hairless and so sissy.  I couldn't even manage masculine body language.  My wrists were limp and I was flapping my hands in agitation.  The weeks had taken their toll on me. 

"So?"  He pointed to his boxers.  "Are you afraid of what's under there, girly-girl?  Or else worried that you'll like it too much?  The way your wife does?  Hmmm?"

"N... no, Sir."  I tried to sound convincing.  It didn't help that I lisped the 'S'.  "Just give me a second."  Still lisping.  Why?  Maybe to convince him I was no threat and therefore didn't need to be manhandled. 

Quivering all over, I tugged at his shorts.  His long thick cock, with prominent veins, was gradually revealed.  When the waistband passed its head, the massive organ sprang up, hitting me under one eye.  I pulled back in shock. 

Dutch told me in a level voice, "I want your wife's snatch nice and juicy for my big cock.  Be a dear and lick her for me.  Outside and in.  Get busy.  "

For a moment I was just stunned.  Then Dutch slapped me on the back of the head.  That brought me out of my momentary trance.  With numb limbs I got onto the foot of the bed.  My bride accommodatingly widened the 'V' of her long legs.   I inched forward, hoping for some last minute reprieve from this odious task.  No such clemency was to be granted.  I brought my lips to her glistening labia and stuck out my tongue, to get my first sample of the center of a female.  It really did smell like fish and taste like chicken.  I disliked it even more than I had anticipated.  My throat tried to constrict.  But Alana was thrilled and kept urging me to continue.  She gave me pointers on how to best please her.  For about ten minutes I kept licking and sucking, until Dutch decided it was his turn, though not to use his mouth.

"Thanks for the prep job, bro.  Or should I say 'sis'?  Now get out of the way so I can slam the ham."

As soon as I was off the bed he took his place, on his knees.  Dutch aligned that macropenis with my wife's slit.  He put in just the fat head, making her moan for more.  Then he began to feed her inch after inch, while I stood by, mesmerized by the sheer size and potency of his cock.  When he was in all the way to his heavy balls he stopped.  She purred up at him.

"Please, Dutch.  Pull it out and shove it back in.  Be as rough as you want.  Pump me hard."

He grinned and gave her exactly what she wanted, taking long strokes.  Despite his exertions he could talk as if nothing was going on. 

"You like that, babe?  Want to switch back to your sissy husband and his tongue?  Do you like making him put his mouth where my cock goes?"

"You're the best."  Unlike him she sounded breathy.  "And I don't want Wilma down there now.  But it was nice having her warm me up.  She should do that all the time.  Having her licking the same place you put that big shaft of yours is perfect.   It's so... so..."

"So sissy?"

"Yeah."  She gasped.  "And treating her that way makes me want to get laid even more.  Faster.  Wilder."

"And that's what you'll get."  Suiting his actions to the words, he increased his tempo. 

My wife huffed and puffed and held onto his shoulders.  She curled her toes.  Closed her eyes in ecstasy and opened them to stare up at him as if she couldn't believe how good he was in bed.  Then he slowed back down, rode her to the edge of an orgasm, and sped back up to push her over the brink.  All at once my bride was hollering and arching her back, carried along on the wave of a tsunami climax.  He eased off gradually, letting her enjoy a long descent and afterglow.  Then he unhurriedly picked up speed, building her back up, before he launched Alana into a second, almost as powerful, finish.  At the peak of her eruption he let himself go.  Through gritted teeth he growled and I knew he was filling her with his semen.  Had she gone on birth control of some sort?  I could only hope so.  I certainly didn't think he suffered from a low sperm count.   He rolled off her and for a while they just lay there, happily sated. 

Alana told me, "All right, Wilma.  You can go to your sissy bedroom.  But no playing with your midget dick.  Better yet, you can tug it but don't make yourself squirt.  Think about how well Dutch is taking care of me as you're fingering your prick."

"Go for it," he encouraged.  "And in the morning I'll let you know what I have planned for you after this."

*********

I woke up early and lay there under my perfumed sheets, mentally replaying the previous night's events.  Dutch must still be there, in our marital bed, with free access to my wife's body.  Right at that moment he might be touching her wherever he wanted.  I cringed inwardly at the visions that produced.  He might even be having morning sex with her.  I got up, still in my shameful nightie, the taste of my wife's pussy lingering in my mouth.  I used the bathroom and then, even though I'd cleaned it the day before, compulsively checked everything and did a quick touch-up.  Then I heard a clear ringing sound.  Following it, I was soon at the open door to the main bedroom.  They were lying there with the sheets pushed all the way down.  Alana was swinging a golden hand-bell.  When she saw me she set it on the nightstand.  I assumed it was another gift from Dutch. 

She announced, "There are some shopping bags in the den, sissy.  Lovely pink ones.  They're full of new nighties, stockings, and a pair of high heel slippers.  Sexy-cute additions to your sissy wardrobe.  Plus I'll be getting you more goodies as time goes on."

He said, "I can't wait to see you in stockings.  You have to always have them on when you're home.  And those slippers will make your legs shapelier."

I didn't like what he was saying or how lustfully he was looking at me.  Still, I demurely thanked them both and did a spontaneous curtsey.  Alana had me go and fetch the bags.  I went through them and found a black, see-through, baby doll nightie and black patterned stockings.  Alana had me change into those while the two of them watched from the comfort of the bed.  Their bed.  I found the heeled slippers and got them on my feet.  They were almost a good fit, pinching only slightly.  On my wife's orders, taking careful steps, I minced around the room with my arms held out to the sides, wrists limp, like a drag performer on a runway.  It was mortifying.

"You're such a pantywaist," Alana declared.  "Which is why we've made more plans for you.  Tell her, Dutch."

He said, "So here's what you can look forward to, Wilma.  Right now I'm still making the rounds of my gyms.  I'll only be here on the weekends.  But every Saturday night we're going to take you another step further.  For example, next time you're going to eat out your wife after I've made a messy cream pie for you."

"You mean...?"  I couldn't keep myself from using my girly voice.  "... I'll have to lick up your... stuff?"

"My cum.  White sauce.  Cream filling.  Yep.  Lick it up and gulp it down."

"But that's... disgusting."

"Not to me.  Not to your wife.  Only to you.  So it's two against one and the majority rules."  He waited to see if I was going to fight back.  When I didn't, he went on, "Don't worry.  You've got a whole week to think about and get yourself into the right state of mind."

"I'll spend the whole time being upset."

"Nonsense.  You'll be able to get yourself ready.   Develop a positive approach.  My customers do it all the time when we set some new goal for them."

Alana said, "Wilma, he's making good sense.  Pay attention."

"Yes, dearest," I told her wispily.

"The week after that," Dutch continued, "you'll get to clean me off too."

That was a disturbing surprise.  "I can't put my mouth on your... on that..."

My wife offered, "It's called a cock, Wilma.  Not like that sissy thing you've got.  Not like your minor-league dick."

"You will do it," Dutch reiterated.  "And do it well.  I like my business spotless."

"How about the Saturday after that?" Alana inquired eagerly.

"Well, I'm thinking that the second time our sissy cleans me, he'll be more easygoing about it.  Take his time and really get all the hard to reach places.  With all that extra effort, I'm betting it'll get me hard again."

"Probably," Alana agreed.  "You don't take forever before you're ready for Round Two.  Not like some people, who need a day or more to recover."

"So if I get stiff, it's Wilma's fault that it happened, so it'll be her responsibility to take care of it."

"You mean...?"  My bride's eyes were bright with anticipation.

"I mean the little cock teaser will have to suck me off and get a load of spunk fresh from my balls."

"I can't wait to see sissy dearest trying to get it all down," she said gleefully.

At that point I was too shaken up to say anything.  I stood there with my arms wrapped around myself.

"And then, when I come back again, well, it'll be time to make her a complete pansy.  After she sucks me clean and has me standing up proud and tall, the time will be right to bust her sissy cherry.  Lay Wilma on her back, pull up her legs, hold onto her ankles, and make her rosebud bloom."

"You mean rape my ass?" I asked incredulously. 

"If that's what you want to call it.  Sure, I can make it more like a rape.  Whatever your sissy heart desires."

Alana said, "I bet Miss Panties will scream."

He suggested, "Not if you're sitting with your ass on her nose and mouth."

"HA!  Plump my big booty over her stupid face.  That'd keep Wilma quiet.  But then I guess it'd be the end of new things we could do to him."

"Never think that.  Between us I'm sure we can come up with endless games to play with our living sex doll.  She'll never get bored while we're calling the shots."

She wanted to know, "Can well tell her every week what we're going to do the next time?"

"We have to.  Give her time to get used to the idea of whatever it is."  He turned his attention to me.  His face was placid but his eyes were steely.  "And we're not going to hear anymore of that bunk about how it'll upset your delicate constitution, and how you'll spend all your time fretting about whatever we announce is coming.  Right?"

Of course I would feel endless apprehension.  But I couldn't say that.

Instead I told him, "You're right, Sir.  I'll take that time to get used to every new... um... treat you think up for me."  He was still staring so I added, "And thank you for explaining how you had my best interests in mind."  If only I could at least stop sounding like some weak-willed,  simpleminded girl.  "I really appreciate that." 

Dutch told Alana.  "There it is.  I've got us all on the same page.  Now Wilma can spend all her spare time preparing for next Saturday.  Thinking about how she's going to clean my spunk out of your puss.  And getting herself cool, calm and collected about the idea.  Hell, she'll probably get to the point where she's looking forward to it."

In reality I would be dwelling on how horrible it was going to be.  How much worse in the weeks that followed.  Both of them must have known what mental torture I would be suffering.  I was sure the forewarnings were just to add to their cruel entertainment at my expense.  And there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

"Oh," Dutch suddenly said, "and I've got some good news for both of you.  In two or three months I'll have my business running the way I want it.  I'm planning to hire an assistant to do the roadwork.  Then I'll be able to stay around all the time."  He gave Alana a conspiratorial look.  "Maybe stay here and you can tell everyone I'm renting that storage room above the garage as an apartment.  Instead, I'd be right here in the house with you.  Sissy Wilma can have that big walk-in closet, which we can doll up for her."

Alana said, "Do it all in pink, with a canopy bed, and lots of mirrors for her to admire herself in."

He nodded in agreement.  "And then I'd be here every single evening and wake up next to you every morning, Alana.  But it's your it to you."  He wasn't considering my opinion at all.  "What do you say, honey?  Need some time to think about it?"

"Nope.  It's a fantastic idea.  I can't wait for you to move in."

They sealed their deal with a soulful kiss.  Then he laid back on his propped up pillows, smugly self assured.  "In the meantime," he pointed out, "I'll still be here every weekend.  Just you and me, lover, and our Saturday night sissy."

I shuddered and forced myself to smile at them.   My life as a man and a husband was over.  From then on I would be nothing but a lowly sissy slut for my gorgeous, full-figured wife and her handsome, muscular, well-hung bedmate.