Fate or Fault

In his desire to fullfil his fantasy, a man loses his sexual 
identity.  As control is swifted away by his wife and her lover, 
Peter tries to allocate blame for his lot.  His loss of masculinity, 
his emasculation and his slavery, he ultimately concludes, were his 
own doing.

back to index

Fate or Fault
By Petra 


I had been an angry man, in my past.  There are times in a northern 
lad's life when a 'tare-up' is unavoidable; I always acquitted myself 
with honour.  When eventually I made the journey south I was struck 
by how easy going most people are.  Bad behaviour, of which London 
had more than its fair-share, rarely precipitated the type of retort 
that I had come to expect.  It certainly made me soft.  To be honest 
I think that I can date my first slump into sissy hood from the 
moment that I set foot onto the platform in Euston for the first time.







My second slump into emasculation occurred six months ago.  However, 
the seeds were sown much earlier.  I can best portray the lead-up to 
these events by describing my present situation.  As I relay this 
story I am sat on a most familiar train journey to London Waterloo 
from Poole in Dorset.  My wife Kelly and I moved to the South Coast a 
couple of years ago.  I had a very good job in London and found it 
impossible to match my present salary and responsibilities in 
Dorset.  Consequently I've made the commute virtually every day 
since.  But today is my last day.  



I should be in celebratory mood.  I can't help thinking that, not 
only is it my last day of having to huddle cramped into a crowded 
commuter train (after Southampton Central the train becomes 
impossibly packed), it is also the last time that I will have to 
worry about my colleagues seeing my panty-line, or the line that my 
bra might make against my work shirt if I lift my arms.  For a year 
now, I've worn only female underwear.  Not that it has been my choice 
to so do.  I should also add that my last day of salaried employment 
does not mean a relaxing early retirement.  I will still have to get 
up at five in the morning, to prepare breakfast and to make certain 
that my house it spotless and clean.  My current weekends tell me 
that my work life will be much harder after today. 



At home, at nine tonight, greeting me in my lounge will be a large 
suitcase.  Inside this suitcase lies all of my male work clothes, 
apart from the suit, shirt, tie and socks that I'm wearing now.  As a 
ritual final exorcism of my maleness, I will have to place my present 
work clothes, as soon as I come home tonight, into the case and watch 
as it's buried beneath a patio.  I have no casual clothes or male 
underwear anymore.  The latter were burnt ages ago.  I hadn't worn 
the former for so long anyway.



Present at tonight's events will be my wife and her lover James.  He 
has been a part of our lives for well over a year.  It was he that 
initiated my fall into feminine submission.  It will be he that I 
will be sliding into domestic servitude for.  I have now to attend to 
the domestic whims of my wife's lover.  Yet it was I that initiated 
the whole damn process that lead to today's conclusion.  It was a 
move that has so thoroughly altered my identity that I could never 
have dreamt of it at the beginning.  



Of course, I might want to lay the blame at the doorstep of my mum.  
After all, I had lived in a comfortably middle class environment in 
my formative years. I cannot remember my mum saying no to me.  I 
wanted for nothing, and had everything that my fertile imagination 
could muster.  Obviously, any mother worth her salt would have 
stopped lavishing presents on her child at some time.  Two events, 
however, conspired to obviate that.  Firstly I was an only child: a 
success for my parents after three miscarriages.  Finally, my mum had 
married way above her station.  As an Air force radio operator, my 
mum had fallen in love with a high-ranking officer.  Her beauty and 
innocence charmed him and his offer of marriage was snapped upon.  
Finally my mum had escaped the austerity of her childhood.  She would 
ensure that her only son wanted for nothing.



I never had a chance of experiencing what it would be like to keep a 
fantasy inside my head.  I always lusted after reality.  The world 
was so tangible to me.  I needed to see, feel and caress the texture 
of life.  Fantasy was just a means to good ideas for future events to 
me.  Nevertheless, I must accept that I am the one to blame for all 
of this.  I nagged away at my wife for months.  Mind you, I never 
expected this.  I mean, beneath my trousers I am wearing white lace 
panties covered in 15 denier barely black pantyhose.  The panties 
cost me £40 and the pantyhose £10.  My wife insists that my lingerie 
is expensive.  The kind that she and her new friends wear, the only 
difference being that I am only allowed white panties and black 
tights.  It reinforces my domesticity, she feels.  James has had such 
an influence on her.  Also, my penis, which at first would fight 
against the feminine material, has no strength to resist anymore.  
The two associates that would buttress my penile mind - I speak of my 
testicles - were excised six months ago.  My dishevelled member is no 
longer capable of any but the most basic waste functioning.  Finally, 
tomorrow morning I will wake up at the usual time, shower, slip into 
my lingerie, step into a black pleated skirt that sits three inches 
above my knees, insert my breast forms into my bra, put on a white 
silk blouse and attach a white lacy apron to my front.  I'll finish 
the whole process off with a long red wig.  I will then present my 
master and mistress with their breakfast and formally enter into maid 
hood on a full time basis.  I never envisaged any of that.  



It began shortly after we moved to Poole.  I began to fantasise about 
seeing my wife cuckold me with a massively hung stud.  Sure, I 
hankered after elements of submission in the fantasy.  At first, I 
was not sure how to broker the subject with Kelly.  I tried to be 
cunning, adding www.cuckold.com to my browser's favourites.  We share 
the computer equally and I longed for her to stumble on the link.  At 
least then I'd be able to talk to her about it. It didn't work.  She 
surfed the net for specifics and rarely as loosely as most Internet 
users.  Eventually I decided to wait until she mentioned someone on 
the television that she found attractive.  



I can't remember the exact day that we first talked about allowing 
her to take a lover.  But I can remember that I was shattered after a 
really hard day at work; I had not yet become accustomed to the 
extent of my commute.  That evening, on my return from work, I could 
never have anticipated embarking on yet another journey, and one from 
which I have not yet arrived at the final destination.



Kelly began as usual to tell me of her day at work.  Her office talk 
usually bored me to tears and she must have seen in my eyes that I 
was drifting from the thread of her conversation.  Perhaps it was to 
wake me up that she mentioned that a guy from one of the nearby 
companies had been pestering her for a date for the last two or three 
weeks, every lunch hour at the pub without fail.  I instantly 
recovered my wits and perked-up.  I seem to remember glibly 
complimenting her on the speed of her work.  She hadn't been there 
long and had managed to charm the natives already.  It was easy to 
see that Kelly was over the moon with her success.  I decided to 
seize the moment.



"What's he like?"  I probed



"Big" she replied.



"You mean you've seen it?"  I replied sardonically.



"Seen what…oh…ha, ha!" She punctuated her sarcastic laughter with 
side jabs.  "No I mean he's a bit tubby."



"Not your sort then."



"No, Mr tired, you are," she flattered.



"You'd never have an affair, would you sweetie?"  I moved in for the 
kill.



"Course not."  Her facial expression became quizzical.



"What if I said that I didn't mind?"  My face remained semi-whimsical.



"Don't be silly."



"I'm serious."  My countenance became more serious.



Kelly half smiled and looked at the floor.  My pulse raced because I 
knew my wife.  I knew that at this moment she was watering the seeds 
that I had planted.  Kelly is such an imaginative sexual partner.  
She was always willing to act out our more personal fantasies.  Never 
for a minute did I think that she would accept the involvement of 
someone else in our lovemaking.



"What if he's better at it than you?"  She never took her eyes off my 
groin as she said those words to me.  She saw the reaction there that 
she was looking for.  "What if I only let you watch?"  I shifted 
uncomfortably in my chair.  "What if he was really well endowed, he 
might ruin me for you?"



"Stop teasing me."  I was becoming putty in her hands.

"I'd lie on top of you and look you right in the eyes as he fucked me 
doggy style."  I was so turned on now, I had started it but Kelly was 
choreographing this teasing superbly.  "You'd not be able to relieve 
yourself because I'd be lying on you.  Can you imagine the moment 
when he makes me come and you can do nothing about it."



I began now to rub my meagre manhood through my trousers.

"Your nothing but a pervert Peter." She was teasing me remorselessly.

We moved to the bedroom and continued in this manner.  I came with 
all of the relief in the world.  For Kelly though, I had never seen 
her climax so vigorously.  For months our lovemaking took this turn.  
Whenever we tried anything different, Kelly's climaxes would be far 
less potent.  It was only a matter of time.



It was Kelly who first suggested that we make the situation 
concrete.  She told me that she was finding it difficult to come 
without thinking of other men and that it was my own fault for 
planting the seed in the first place.  I wanted her to go for it and 
made the final push.  She was not difficult to persuade. 



We agreed the strategy, no contact magazines, no clubs or swingers 
haunts, Kelly would simply go to a nightclub as tarty as possible, 
and try to pick up anyone she fancied.  If she found someone she 
would bring him home and fuck him on our bed.  I would keep a low 
profile in the spare room.  She was to alert me by telephone when 
she'd picked someone up.  I was in my element.  







The first two attempts were unsuccessful.  I waited by the phone all 
night but Kelly merely came home drunk and alone.  Both times, she 
explained, she had been chatted up constantly but fancied none of the 
men.  It really was to be a case of third time lucky.  She left that 
night in a pretty black lacy dress, a sheer black bodysuit and tiny 
black knickers that were clearly visible through the ensemble.  I was 
so turned on it was incredible.  I warmed her up before she left by 
going down on her.  She had a terrific faint odour of sex about her 
as she left.



I waited by the phone as usual.  Literally within the hour she 
telephoned to tell me that she was with someone and to clear my 
presence out of the bedroom and wait in the spare room.  Oh the 
excitement of it.  I wanted to masturbate there and then.  It took 
every ounce of my will power to await her return.



I'd been clever.  Knowing that on this first occasion there would be 
no opportunity to watch, I rigged up a video camera in a holdall, in 
the fashion of those TV investigative journalists.  I had wired an 
extension co-axial cable under the floorboards and into the portable 
in the spare room.  I would see and hear almost all of it.  When the 
door opened my heart raced.  For a moment a chimera of the events to 
come flashed before me, rage and jealousy boiled within me.  I wanted 
to put a stop to it.  I could here her giggling with him downstairs; 
ice breaking, alcohol pouring into glasses before being cast to one 
side.  The mixed emotions were overwhelming.  Arousal won the day and 
I meekly lay quietly under the covers as I heard them come upstairs.  
I turned on the portable and witnessed them kiss on the bed.  Kelly 
got up and made a gesture to the chap.  I heard her say she'd be back 
in a second.  Shortly afterwards my door opened and there stood my 
beautiful wife.  She saw the portable but said nothing.  She simply 
straddled my face on the bed, pulled her panties to one side of the 
hole in the bodysuit crotch, and forced me to witness an already well-
used cunt.  Her hole was massively dilated.  I reasoned that the man 
must have been incredibly endowed.  Kelly later told me that the 
reason that she had chosen James at first was the size of his trouser 
bulge.  At this moment though I could not take my eyes of the white 
fluid in my wife's cunt.  Her lover's semen was clearly visible  
between her labial folds.



"I couldn't wait" She said as she forced my face in her sex.  I was 
far too turned on to baulk and instinctively began to clean her.  
When she was warmed up she simply walked away.  I watched her enter 
the room on the screen.  She positioned herself to assist my viewing 
and let him mount her.  I watched as he pulled his boxers down to 
reveal the most engorged penis that I had ever seen.  I couldn't 
quite work out if it was a trick of the light.  It must have been at 
least nine inches long, and possibly double my own.  In terms of its 
thickness, I had seen nothing like it.  I gasped.  He positioned 
himself above my wife and made ready his penetrative thrust; his 
penis knocked at the door of Kelly's entrance.  I had already begun 
to masturbate as his member began to slowly slide into my darling 
wife.  She moaned and writhed like the slut she was becoming.  I shot 
my load in seconds and was forced to endure watching the scene in 
front of me in cold sexual sobriety.  I witnessed my wife scream with 
two phenomenal orgasms and I endured him as he filled Kelly full of 
another batch of his ample sperm.  I knew that I was watching a real 
man satisfy my wife in a way that I was simply never to be capable of 
doing.  I turned off the screen and resolved to sleep.  Kelly had 
other ideas.  She slipped back into my room and, now naked, resumed 
her earlier position.



"Lick it clean."  She ordered.  I meekly obeyed.  The only other 
words she said were "Savour what a real man tastes like."  She left 
the room and returned to her real man.  I was thoroughly humiliated.  
There was no chance of sleeping, especially as Kelly screamed in 
orgasm relentlessly for the rest of the night.  All I could do was to 
masturbate the night away.  At one point I cried like a baby as I 
heard Kelly's stud grunting as he came in her again.  I knew that 
sooner or later, I would taste the result of that intense pleasure he 
was experiencing at that moment with my betrothed.  I knew my 
relationship was about to change and I became frightened.  The last 
time that evening that she entered my room to be cleaned up she left 
saying, "you need to get used to this, your not man enough for me 
Peter, but I've always liked what you do with your tongue.  I've 
agreed to be James' girlfriend.  I love you very much and won't leave 
you, but James is my lover now.  I need to be regularly fucked by a 
man, not you my puny cuckold."



She seemed deadly serious.  Things would be different now I was 
sure.  Already things had moved beyond my original vision.  
Circumstances had drifted beyond my control.  It is for this reason 
that I find searching for culpability for my present condition so 
hard.  Was all of this down to me?  As things turned out, there would 
be a thaw in Kelly's attitude before my predicament grew 
substantially worse.



I drifted into sleep at about six thirty in the morning.  I woke up a 
couple of hours later.  Still partly mortified and extremely sexually 
excited by the events of the evening, I switched on the screen.  
Kelly had placed some of James' clothing on the camera.  I knew she'd 
have done it deliberately.  From the muffled noise that drifted into 
the microphone, I guessed that Kelly and her lover were still 
enjoying each other.  I was getting annoyed now.  The deal was for 
Kelly to get laid, not to repeatedly pour scorn on our marriage.  
Even so the very sound of it aroused me enough to begin satisfying 
myself again.  After I'd finished I slipped into sleep again.  



Kelly entering the room aroused me.  James had left and her tones had 
softened from the previous night.  It was as if the whole performance 
with me in the spare room had been part of the illusion.  I was 
relieved.



"Hi babes." She smiled sweetly down to me.  For a moment I thought 
that the whole episode might have been a bad dream.  I ventured a 
smile in response.  "How did you like it?"



I grabbed her and pulled her nearer to me.  Now was the time to see 
if her threat was real.  I kissed her hard and she issued a giggle.  
I rolled her onto her back, hitched up to her a little, and began to 
mount her.  She wriggled and rolled me onto my back and then forced 
my penis into her.  Blessed relief, Kelly was still mine.  But there 
was a lot different.  Notwithstanding the fact that she had insisted 
on being on top, Kelly's most intimate part was now unrecognisable to 
my penis.  I struggled for friction.  Kelly, on the other hand, moved 
her mouth to my ear and whispered, "not a patch on James."



My cock began to soften.  Kelly sensed it and changed tack, "Hey, I'm 
only kidding Mr Insecure."  I began to thrust back and regained some 
composure.  Even so I could see that Kelly was not being fulfilled by 
me.  I could only hope that her cunt would regain some of its former 
tension before long.  I finished her off with my tongue and myself 
with my hand.  I was frustrated because as Kelly came she said, "no 
woman could do that any better than you."  This was not the kind of 
complement I was now looking for, bearing my insecurities in mind.  I 
resolved to let this extra-marital experience be our last.  We fell 
asleep in each other's arms.



The day that ensued passed normally, except that I decided to avoid 
working.  Kelly was a little odd, I thought.  She would sometimes 
ignore me when I made comment to her about the contents of a 
newspaper or television.  Occasionally she would simply grunt at me 
in response.  I had done this to her a few times in our marriage and 
it drove her spare.  It did so with me too.  I became more determined 
to get a response from her.  Other than these oddities which one can 
never quite put one's finger on, all else passed as usual that week.  
Until Saturday!



She dropped the bombshell on Saturday afternoon, as I watched the 
football results coming in.



"Sorry Peter I'm afraid that you're gonna have to get yourself dinner 
this evening, I'm seeing James."  She looked me straight in the eye 
and never wavered.  She must have known my reaction.



"No your not."



"Sorry babes, you started this affair.  I told you, I'm James' 
girlfriend now."  She was getting angry now.



"Forget it Kelly, it was just a silly fantasy.  We've done it now.  
There's no way that I'm going to let you near him again."  I put on 
my northern charm.  Kelly saw straight through it, and crushed me,



"Do you expect me to feed off the small portion that you're offering?"



I was mortified.  I began to stammer.  She mocked my stammering and 
waltzed into the bedroom.  When she emerged I gasped.  My penis 
reacted too.  She was wearing an incredibly beautiful Basque, 
matching panties and Silk Stockings.  She simply put on her knee 
length coat and sat next to me.  In no time at all a car drew up 
outside our house and beeped its arrival.  Kelly got up, not before 
giving me another look at her underwear.



"James bought this for me, I'm not going to need any other clothing 
tonight."  The outfit was expensive, I could tell.  I just looked at 
her and began to well up.  I felt sorry for myself but she was 
unrelenting.



"Look Peter you have to get used to this.  He's got money, he's 
stunning and he's got a ten and a half inch manhood."  She looked at 
my groin area.  I had a painfully puny four and a half inches, not 
even half his size.



"Kel, I love you," I pleaded.  She kissed me and left.











I didn't see her again until the next morning.  The shock I was to 
receive when she returned still haunts me.  The door opened and in 
stepped Kelly with James.  He looked me straight up and down and 
laughed.  



"I know all about you Peter.  Kelly tells me that there's not much to 
speak of."  He laughed and looked at my crotch.  I was shaking with 
the bitterest sense of humiliation.  I made for him; after all I grew 
up in a hostile northern town.  He made slight work of my 
aggression.  Before I knew it I was on my knees in front of him.



When I next looked at Kelly she was sitting on our sofa, coat off, 
legs apart and panties off.  I could easily see James' sperm in my 
wife.



"Lick it clean."  She ordered.  I couldn't move.  James grabbed me 
under my arms and lifted me toward her.  I was left kneeling in front 
of my wife.  She edged herself off the sofa and queened me in front 
of her lover.  I tasted his sperm again as I brought Kelly off 
again.  As I lay there James did an extraordinary thing.  He began to 
remove my clothes.  I was utterly powerless, and very shortly naked 
and exposed.  As Kelly came, James had removed my boxers and was 
laughing uncontrollably.



"Listen mate, manhood is so wasted on you.  You make love like a girl 
and you've got a clitoris."  Kelly laughed on top of me.  A strange 
feeling swept over me.  The humiliation turned from severe and 
intolerable into serene and exquisite.  I loved it.  Tears streamed 
from my eyes, but they were tears of relief.  To this day I can't 
explain it, though I experience it every day.  James had unshackled 
my masculine pretensions.  It felt great.  She moved off me and 
ordered me to stand.  I meekly obeyed.



"Take James clothes off…On your knees."  I was openly sobbing but 
they both had a massive hold over me now that I couldn't fight it.  I 
lifted his shirt from his trousers and undid the buttons from the 
bottom.  Eventually I was unable to reach the top button and had to 
look for help.  James sneered down at me and removed his shirt.  In 
little time I was forced to concentrate on the last remaining items 
of clothing.  I undid his zip.  I could see that the bulge in his 
trousers was impressive enough.  When I pulled them down, his manhood 
sprung out at me taking me by surprise.  I was expecting underwear.  
His member forced me to recoil as it sprang at me.  James grabbed the 
back of my head and looked at Kelly.  She gestured with her eyes for 
him to continue.



"Let's see if you can match girls at this."  His cock grew as he 
spoke and I tried to recoil; his hand held me in place.  Strangely my 
manhood raised itself again.  The serene feelings of humiliation 
overwhelmed me once more as the engorged head of his cock touched my 
mouth.  "Suck my cock bitch."



"Go on Peter, show him what a good girl you are."



I began to cry again but James cock was demanding attention.  He 
forced it between my lips and I relented, taking the whole head into 
my mouth.  I'd never done this before.  It wasn't as bad as I'd 
thought, and I began to emulate the girls I'd seen in the porn flicks 
I'd watched as a bachelor.  I had no idea back then that their 'on-
screen' actions were to serve as mentor to my transformation into an 
expert cocksucker.  I couldn't believe how taught James' dick was.  
However, eventually the texture and quality began to change and I 
surmised what was about to happen.  I had no choice but to swallow 
the masses of come from his balls.  When he'd finished he looked me 
in the eye and said, "good girl."  I averted my gaze, and recoiled 
into the corner of the room.  But I was not to be spared further 
degradation.  Kelly was soon speared by James recovered weapon.  They 
fucked for ages.  I was forced to put up with this until James left.  
Before he did so he looked at both of us and said, "I always wanted 
two girls at once."  He drove off laughing at his own wit.



For all the degradation I had suffered, I was extremely turned on.  I 
went to mount Kelly but she backed away.



"Your not worth the effort Hon." I accepted her statement and simply 
slid down to her pussy and began concentrating on my best work.  I 
was broken and Kelly knew it.







James became a regular visitor at our house from then on.  He always 
called me Petra, always insinuated that I was a girl and always made 
me suck his cock.  The situation had spiralled beyond the sublime.  
Nevertheless, and by way of returning to the question of culpability, 
I enjoyed and accepted my new role.  Kelly began expecting me to come 
in from work and cook her dinner.  If James was there, I would have 
to cook for him too.  I did everything that Kelly said, despite my 
long commute.  All of this time packages would come addressed to 
Kelly with provocative and expensive lingerie inside.  James would 
then fuck my wife while she wore the underwear that only he could 
provide regularly for her.  I was becoming jealous of the lavish 
nature of the gifts to Kelly.  It was to further lead to my undoing.



While working in London I had occasion to meet some representatives 
from an exclusive UK buying house.  Our companies were negotiating 
sales of a product and I was appointed to liaise with them. While 
thumbing through the catalogues of some of their clients I stumbled 
on some lingerie that looked like the sort that my wife would wear.  
I decided to match James and trundled off to the store to buy her 
some.  I knew her size and made the choice: a beautiful pair of silk 
and lace white panties, matching bra and suspender set.  The 
accompanying stockings cost a small fortune.  I thought that Kelly 
would be over the moon.  When I returned James was sitting in our 
lounge with Kelly's mouth on his cock.



"Honey, it looks like Petra's home," he noticed my bag, "and it looks 
like she's bought herself some knicks."  Before I could respond Kelly 
had sat up and James had moved his considerable frame over to me and 
began rummaging through my bag.



"They're pretty."  Mocked Kelly.



"Strip." Ordered James.  I meekly obliged.  Roughly, James grabbed my 
cock from behind me and jammed it backward.  Next he grabbed my legs 
and forced them shut.  Then he knelt in front of me and held open the 
waistband of the panties I'd bought for Kelly.  He beckoned me 
forward.  I was thoroughly dishonoured, ashamed and overwhelmed with 
blissful humiliation.  I stepped into the soft underwear as James 
pulled them up my leg.  He repeated the action with every item in the 
bag until I was thoroughly feminised.  I began to sob again.



Kelly who was still seated in more or less the same position that 
she'd assumed after leaving James cock, moved out of the way.  James 
positioned me in her place and in my feminine guise I attended his 
cock.  That very same day, he burned my male underwear.  I went to 
work in the underwear the next day.  On the evening I bought myself 
lingerie that cost almost a months wages, all of it white, all of it 
pretty.  I was forced to keep my legs waxed and my armpits shaved.  I 
wore perfume all of the time and make-up every evening.  I took the 
initiative one-day and bought a skirt.  Kelly loved it.  Our sex life 
started again.  We made love as women frequently.  Kelly was James' 
girlfriend but I was beginning to feel like my wife's.  I had 
uncovered a mechanism for keeping my wife, even though it involved 
dressing as a girl.  It wasn't long before James realised that my 
lesbian trysts with Kelly were a threat.  It was the mistake of my 
life.









I came home from work one evening six months ago.  Kelly seemed to be 
on her own but refused to let me just be.  I was to shower and put on 
one of my skirts or dresses.  As soon as I stepped from the shower 
James grabbed me and forced a syringe into my arm.  I struggled 
against his immense strength to no avail and soon succumbed to the 
wooziness filling my head.  I woke up the spare room, with a horrible 
taste in my mouth and pain in my lower half.  I struggled to examine 
myself down there but hadn't the strength to succeed.  When, on the 
other hand, I woke up later, nothing would stop me pulling at the 
dressing between my legs.  



I gasped out loud at the horror of the vision staring back at me.  My 
cock sat tucked between my legs without support and with only smooth, 
if swollen and slightly scarred skin between its base and my anus, 
where my scrotum once was.  I had a piercing ring around my cock and 
one where my balls used to be; a lock held them together.  The whole 
thing was very sore but the shock acted as the best analgesia one 
could imagine.  I cried out loud, so much so that James and Kelly 
entered the room.  To this day I've never received an explanation why 
they had taken this grave measure.  I could only have been as 
revenge, but if anything it has brought Kelly and me closer as 
women.  As time went on my lust was replaced by what I like to call 
cerebral arousal.  Despite what others might say I still get turned 
on, even though I haven't orgasmed in a while.  I am turned on by 
beauty and my submission to Kelly and James, who have an abundance of 
it.  My tiny cock is alien to me now and I look forward to becoming 
Petra full time.  I will be a faithful and obedient maid to my wife 
and my master.  I've grown to identify and hate my masculine side; 
slowly I will kill it off completely.  Kelly has asked James if I can 
have breasts.  I think James is worried that it might cement Kelly's 
lesbianism and mine a little more.  I hope that my master relents.  
Unfortunately he uses Kelly for real sex and I only suck his cock 
occasionally.  If he let me have breasts he could have such fun with 
them.



Kelly plans to sue for divorce soon and marry James.  I would be 
Kelly's maid of honour.  She's already planning what to wear and what 
I'll wear.  The matrimonial ties were lost along time ago, part of me 
is happy for her.  And I can't wait to go shopping for wedding and 
bride's maid dresses.



As my train pulls into Waterloo, I look behind me at the last time 
I'll have to catch this early morning commuter nightmare.  I'm 
apprehensive; the journey home will be the journey into my new life 
as a full time woman, slave and maid.  I well-up with tears very 
often these days and as I step off the train it begins to happen 
again.  The strange thing is that I stop myself crying now usually 
because it makes my mascara sting my eyes.  It used to be because I 
was a man.