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Message-ID: <43820asstr$1060477803@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Me" <1234miss_gennie@myway.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sat, 09 Aug 2003 14:49:58 CDT
Subject: {ASSM} New TG: Man Maid Part 9
Date: Sat,  9 Aug 2003 21:10:03 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Man-Maid Part 9 --- August 2003

Dedicated to those few sweethearts that have given feedback on this story, I
thank you.
Love g

I don't think I realized it at the time but my whole body was trembling by
the time I got inside my sister's home. I was on the verge of near total
emotional and nervous collapse.  I had been holding myself together by the
thinnest of threads since I had first read Debbie's note earlier that
morning. I knew that what I was doing was wrong. I could hear my father's
voice echoing in the back of my mind "What are you a damn pansy? A
panty-waist fagot?  You're a man, in a dress (skirt actually, but dad never
made such distinctions.) and only women, fagots and fairies wear dresses.
Since you're not a woman then you must be a fairy or a fagot. Either way
you're a damn pervert!"

"Dad please, try to understand. (What? You're going to tell me that you
don't have conversations inside your head?) I have no choice! Debbie did
this to me, she knocked me out, locked me up and pasted these mountains onto
my chest with some sort of superglue so I can't get them off. She's taken
away all of my clothes. What am I supposed to do? I have to dress this way!
Besides it's only for a day or so. (At least that's what I tried to convince
myself of.)"

"A day, a week, a month, an hour! What difference does that make? You're
dressed like a damn pervert and I will not have it!"

Had I not been so emotionally stressed at the time I would have shut him out
completely. (more or less) He had died, he was gone, and I no longer had to
seek his approval. RIGHT? Yeah right. He was as real to me at that point as
he had ever been. I kept wondering: "What if he's sitting up there on a
cloud somewhere looking down, watching me, knowing that I was disappointing
him again, sending his thoughts into my head from up there."  Irrational? Of
course. Unusual? Under the circumstances I doubt it.  Don't be so quick to
judge until you experience it yourself. Rationalizations come easy to the
human brain, one of those higher functions people talk about that sets us
apart from the so called "lower" life forms.

Susan of course could tell immediately how fragile my emotional state was as
she closely followed me into her house and gently guided me towards the den
where the meetings were held. My wife Debbie and sister Karin discreetly
disappeared from view, I assumed they went to the pool room in the basement
to devise more evil schemes to torment me. (I keep telling my students how
dangerous it is to ass-u-me anything, but then I go ahead and ignore my own
advice, prerogative of a teacher I guess.)

To be honest however, at the time I did not even notice their absence. I was
busy looking around at Susan's den. It was set up for a meeting! The
furniture was arranged to facilitate interaction, a table against one wall
was laid out with cut fresh veggies, those cute little fishy crackers and
carefully rolled luncheon meats. There was a variety of soda on ice as well
as bottles of water (What ever did we all do before we decided that a pint
of water was worth a dollar?) all laid out just waiting for a group of
people to come and destroy its symmetry.

The "girls" weren't lying!! There really was going to be a meeting! And I
was going to be the main event!! How could they do this to me?!! Here I was
dressed, not only as a "girl" but an "aint I cute", attention grabbing,
sex-kitten type girl. There were going to be strangers coming into this
house and I was expected to meet with them. Facing family like this was one
thing; they knew me, they accepted me and besides it was their fault I was
in a skirt, but strangers! How could I face strangers dressed like this?
What if one of them recognized me? I would be ruined as a teacher if the
school board ever found out about my current attire.  Or worse what if a
parent of one of my students showed up, how could I possibly explain? (Of
course a rational person would say, "so what? Anyone attending this meeting
would be in the same boat I was, and the necessity for discretion would
assure that neither of us would ever tell anyone. I never once said that I
was a rational person though have I?) My mind was reeling, the dam was
breaking and I was helpless to stop it.

The flood of worry and guilt finally became too much for me. The best I can
say is that I lost it. I started screaming, I tried to run, I wanted to get
away from my nightmare, I wanted to wake up I wanted to be me again. I tried
to rip off my cute little costume I wanted nothing more to do with this game
my wife and sisters were playing at my expense. I wanted my father to stop
chastising me for something was not my fault.  I wanted to run, run fast and
not look back. I don't know where I would have run. (not that I could have
in those shoes anyway) I don't know what I would have done. All I could
think of at that moment was to get free! If that had meant I had to hurt
myself to get out of my clothes and chastity I would have done it.  The
feelings that were generated inside me while getting dressed early that
morning, feelings of contentment and fulfillment feelings so deep inside
that I could never describe them, should have made me realize that I really
did want (need) to dress that way. I should have been able to accept those
feelings as something good, but my father's conditioning was so deep and so
thorough that my befuddled mind changed that beautiful feeling of
contentment into the deepest guilt.

If Susan had not been right there next to me, ready for me, I am sure I
would have done something stupid, something destructive...something self
destructive. Nothing quite as drastic as suicide I'm pretty sure, but
thoughts of taking a knife to my chastity or clawing at my monstrous faux
breasts, certainly were coursing through my mind.  Fortunately Susan grabbed
me, held me, she kept me from running, she assured me it was ok to scream or
cry or stomp my feet if it helped. She held me tight just like she had when
we had learned that mom was dying of cancer and there was nothing we could
do.  She held me in the way that only my Susan could, not even my beautiful
beloved Debbie could have held me and calmed me the way that Susan had at
that moment. The deluge of memories that engulfed me, all my father's
admonitions for all those years, the loss of our mother, the total
helplessness we each felt, it all hit at once. Almost as if I had been
walking a railroad trestle and half way out, over the middle of the river
the rail ties had all dropped away beneath me. There I was trying to grab on
to something anything but there was only air and all I could do was scream
as I plummeted into the blackness of the abyss.

Time passed, I know not how much, Susan wouldn't tell me, it didn't matter
anyway.  I didn't learn until much later that we had deliberately arrived
several hours before the meeting was actually scheduled to begin so that
Susan and I would have time for a little chat. The den had been setup early
for my benefit (have patience and I believe you will better understand why
later in my wondrous tale) and Susan was prepared, she was not sure when or
where, or how badly, but she was certain I would ...go bonkers (I just love
those hi-tech medical terms, don't you?). She was fairly confident that it
would be about the time that I realized that this was simply my first day
en-feme and that what I had been told was going to happen would happen
whether I wanted it to or not.  Susan knew me well enough to know that I
would/should be able to make it through the day, on my stubbornness alone if
I had too. She was well aware that I would follow Debbie's instructions just
to prove that I could face any adversity and make it through, because I was
a man and that's what men do. It was therefore with little surprise and not
a great deal of consternation that Susan calmly accepted my break from
reality and dealt with it accordingly. My beautiful Debbie and sister Karin
were standing by just in case things got out of hand and Susan could not
handle me. Unbeknownst to me they had even gone to the point of having
syringe of Thorazine ready for me just in case.

At Debbie's insistence and for the sake of safety during the day while I was
mincing around my house, alone I thought, Susan was sitting outside watching
me, keeping track of my every move; all of my actions and reactions the
entire time (yes even in the bathroom).  They had placed small wireless
cameras throughout the house which Susan could monitor from outside on her
laptop (Dell of course) and intervene at any time should the necessity arise
(the output from those cameras was not recorded, so no I don't have my
bathroom contortions available to show, sorry). It was during the time of my
actual breakdown however, that Debbie, seeing the condition I was in, began
to have second thoughts about continuing with the program. Susan had
explained to her what would most likely happen at some point, especially
before she had a chance to talk with me, but seeing the reality was almost
too much for my loving Debbie to accept. Had Karin and Susan not been there
to remind her of the reasons for their course of action and that she needed
to keep sight of their long term goals, she might have let me go right then.
Too bad I was unconscious at the time I could have encouraged her to let me
go, but I guess that was not to be.(Susan strongly suggests that any reader
who contemplates trying something like this be sure to consult and have
available professional counseling services before proceeding.)

My first inkling of consciousness was Susan's voice calling me from the inky
blackness my world had become. "Danny, Danny. Wake up sweetie, it's Suzie, I
need you to talk to me. It's ok; you're safe here with me."

"Suzie? Is that you? Where are we? I've been having the strangest dream.
Daddy was mad at me again and all you and Karin would do was laugh at me."

"No Danny it's not a dream, but you do need to wake up now. I will explain
and you will better understand what has been happening to you."

"Suzie, daddy's mad at me again. He saw me in your clothes again. What do I
do? I can't face him like this. Help me Suzie. Help me."

"It's ok sweetie. Suzie is here. Daddy's gone you don't have to worry ever
again about him seeing you. Wake up honey. It's time to wake up now."

 Consciousness slowly but surely found its way back into my fog-shrouded
world. The shock of stark reality after an emotional-reality break is not a
place you really want to visit very often. To go from warm and fuzzy
oblivion to cold and stark reality is quite a shock to your system.  My
first awareness was Susan's warm arms around me holding me like she used to
after one of my many encounters with our father. She would never try to get
involved because it would only make matters worse, but she was always there
for me afterwards. At least until I got old enough to perceive her mothering
as a weakness that no man should indulge in or need. So of course my first
reaction to that realization was to pull away and put on a macho front. I
can only imagine what that must have looked like. Little miss sex-kitten
with her pony-tails and platform shoes trying to act like John Wayne on
steroids.

Ever patient Susan just sat and watched me with a gentle smile and open
hands.  No judgments, no admonitions, only total acceptance and
understanding.  How could I possibly reject someone who accepted me so
unquestioningly? Susan had been both sister and mother to both Karin and I
for so long how could I have been so nasty to her for so long?  Suddenly all
the put downs all the insults all the disrespect that I had thrown at her,
with my father's approval and encouragement, over the years seemed so wrong.
Even with what had been done to me that day I felt a deep sense of guilt for
my actions, the day's events seeming trivial by comparison (at least for
that brief span of time). I blubbered and cried like a baby asking Susan
what was happening to me.

 "Why Suzie? Why have you all done this to me? Do I really deserve such
treatment? Have I really been THAT awful?"

"Well, in a word dear, yes."

Well, I asked, she answered, what more could I say? So I demurely sat down
next to her, my butt on the edge of the cushion, my knees together, my feet
slanted to the side, together, my hands in my skirted lap, and waited, and
sniffled.

Susan smiled and took my hands in hers and began. "Danny, sweetie, you know
that we all love you and would never do anything to hurt you." I just looked
stupid and nodded. "Over the years however, we have watched you become
someone you are not. Someone you were not meant to be and do not need to
become. You've been uptight and nervous and so short tempered you've made
Debbie cry more times than you will ever know. You've become short tempered
and intolerant with your students, which in turn is affecting your
effectiveness as a teacher. So we intervened."

"So you intervened. You mean like you would a drug addict or an alcoholic?
What, are you saying I'm addicted to being an ass? So you ah, decided to
make me female so I could be someone else. Ha ha, very funny sis. What's
next, implants, castration? That would make me a great brother and husband
wouldn't it? I can just see it now, coming home after a long day as a sales
lady at Fredrick's <in a falsetto tone> 'Hi honey I'm home and I've brought
home some new samples for US to try on.' Oh gee sis I can hardly wait."

Her expression never changed her warm smile remained soft and warm, her eyes
as understanding as ever. My sharp sarcastic wit wasted.

"Yes dear, we intervened. We have watched over time as you bottle up your
anger and rage. Opening the bottle just a little at a time to let out some
sarcastic or derogatory remark usually aimed at one of us or sometimes your
female co-workers. Almost as though you've been going out of your way to be
hurtful. And that's not like you Danny. You used to be so kind and gentle
with everyone. Aware of other people's feelings. You would always do your
best to not hurt anyone. But over time you have been losing those traits. It
would be easy to blame it all on Daddy and the way he treated you but that's
only a part of it.  Daddy in his defense did what he felt was right, he
always loved us and did his best without mom to make us ready to face the
world."

"So we don't blame dad. I don't see that we need to blame anybody. I'm a
good husband I give Debbie whatever she wants if I can. I help around the
house. I don't go out every night with the boys and ignore her. I'm still a
good teacher; I don't belittle the kids or hit them. I still don't
understand what I do that is so terrible."

A look of sadness briefly crossed her face before she responded. "Dan, I
know you feel that way. It's always easier to see the faults in others than
in ourselves. What we are doing to and for you we do not do lightly. Much
discussion and planning has gone into this. Debbie has tried to reason with
you, has tried to make you realize how hurtful you've become, she has even
tried to get you into her panties all without success. Your only response
has been to become more arrogant and less understanding. Debbie loves you
very much. She wants you to be happy, and it has been tearing her apart to
see you change so much. You now know she knows all about you, she
understands, she wants to support and help you. You once accepted the fact
that you enjoyed allowing your feminine side to express itself. Well now you
have a chance to do that again, only this time without judgments or
recriminations from others."

"What!?  You mean when I tried on your clothes as a kid? I only did that a
couple of times and then you and Karin ratted me out to dad. He made sure I
understood about the differences between men and women and how they should
dress. I never borrowed your clothes again after that and you know it, so
why are you doing this to me now? You know I'm not one of your perverts that
wants to dress like this!" (Ah denial hangs on to the bitter end.)

The storm clouds were quick to appear. "First of all Missy, I will not have
you referring to my clients as perverts! They are no more perverted than you
or I! Second, no Miss, you did not stop borrowing my clothes after that
incident with daddy at the dinner table.  You may have repressed the
memories or may not want to admit to them but Karin and I both know that
your cross-dressing continued long after that evening. Oh you took a break
for awhile but you never actually stopped until you left for college, if
even then."

I think I actually cringed at that one. Susan just sat there looking through
me with a raised eyebrow, waiting for another of my famous sarcastic
comments. I opened my mouth, took a breath and shut it again. I'm not
totally dense; I do sometimes know when it's best to keep my mouth shut.
The clouds cleared and her soft smile returned. Susan never could stay mad
at me for very long. (I'm so sweet.)

"So Missy maid, the bottom line is this. You are now and will remain gennie
24/7 for the next two and a half months, after that it's up to you. Why?
Your face says. Because if you don't do something you will lose your wife!"
I must have looked sufficiently shocked for her on that one for she allowed
a slight smirk to flash across her face. "Yes dear, Debbie is at her
wits-end as to what to do with you. Just consider this shock therapy."

"But didn't you consider that I might not be able to handle your shock
therapy? That I might crack under the strain? That maybe I don't want to
change?"

"Of course silly. I told you we had considered and discussed this course of
action thoroughly before springing it on you. Karin was excited about it
because she has always wanted to get even with you for tearing her very
first prom dress. You remember the one, white satin, strapless, faux corset,
ankle length with lots of crinoline petticoats." Recognition must have shown
on my pretty painted face, a long lost memory of an outstanding experience
that I repeated whenever I could until I grew too large to close the zipper,
that's how the dress got ripped; I refused to admit that my favorite dress
would no longer fit me. "Ah, I see you do remember. Debbie and I are both
doing this because we want you to be more like you used to be, loving and ca
ring and much less stressed out."

"Well wouldn't it have been easier to just prescribe me some pills of some
sort? Mellow me out with some really good drugs."

"Yeah right, as if you would ever take the drugs even if they were
prescribed. No dear I'm afraid that the best course of therapy for you is
hands on, or dresses on if you prefer. We have the time and we have the
cooperation of all parties involved (almost). Besides drugs might mellow you
out for a time but they cannot address the underlying problems. By bringing
out gennie once again we can help undo all the false guilt you have felt for
so long, we can attempt to save your marriage and in the process maybe you
will understand what an ass you have become."

"Now listen carefully gennie, you will be dressed as a young woman for the
next however many weeks, that will not change, over that you have no
control. You do however have total control as to how you will appear outside
of your training hours; it will either be as a dignified young woman
befitting your age and position, or a series of fetishtic fantasy roles,
such as you now appear. It will all depend on the amount of cooperation and
effort we receive from you. You will be out on some type of public outing
daily so get used to the idea now. We have not gone to all this trouble to
have you hide in the house the whole time. We will however, do everything we
can to help you cope, to help you understand that there is absolutely
nothing wrong with a man who has a heart, who can understand what it's like
to have emotions, who enjoys the softer side of life. We realize that
daddy's conditioning runs deep, and you must unlearn much of what he pounded
into you. You must realize that the whole process will take time; we cannot
undo in days what it took years to screw-up. So babe, think you can handle
it? You are a tough macho, macho, man are you not?"

"You're serious about Debbie wanting a divorce?"

"Yes hon, if this doesn't work she's done. She doesn't want a divorce she
just doesn't know what else to do. She says she can no longer stand by and
watch you tear yourself apart from the inside out."

"But what if I freak out again like I did tonight? How can I promise
cooperation when I'm not even sure I'll be able to cope emotionally?"

"Part of your training hours, daily at first, then 2 or 3 times a week after
that will include therapy sessions with an associate of mine. I cannot be
your therapist because we are too close, but you will like Dr. Chan, she is
really quite good."

"And I suppose I don't have a choice about that either, do I?"

"No dear you really don't. If you absolutely cannot deal with Dr. Chan we
will then send you to someone else, but the therapy is an absolute, no
shortcuts. I have told her only that you are my brother and need an
understanding ear; the rest is up to you."

"Ah Sue, what do you mean '...training hours'?"

"Oh my look at the time, I bet you didn't even realize how long we've been
talking. It's almost time for the ladies to arrive and you want to look your
best for them. Now go on into the spare bedroom, Karin is waiting to help
you repair your makeup so that you can greet your guests like a proper
hostess."

"My guests, whadda ya mean my guests, I didn't invite anyone, it's not my
meeting!"

"Oh don't be silly dear. Of course it's your party it's your coming out
party. You found out about my support group and asked if you could sponsor a
party to meet them. You even sent the invitations yourself asking them each
to wear their favorite fantasy costume, like a masquerade ball where you all
could break the ice by talking about your favorite fantasy. You even signed
all the invitations "gennie" just like when you were a kid and wanted to
have a tea party with your sisters. And to make it even more special you
made arrangements with Karin to be here and help them all get ready before
the meeting. Are you seriously trying to tell me you don't remember doing
that? I suppose you're claiming to not remember our tea party either? Oh you
were so precious. I still have the invitation you wrote all those years ago
inviting Karin and I to a dress-up tea party in your room, with the hand
drawn balloons and flowers that you colored all pink. Want to see it?"

How could I have forgotten the tea party? That was the first time that I had
worn one of Karin's satin party dresses, it was pink with short puffy
sleeves with lace cuffs and real poufy petticoats with a big bow in back,
and it came down to just above my knees and looked divine with lacy ankle
socks and Mary Janes. It was what she usually wore to church on Sunday. Wow,
talk about dredging up repressed memories. I was sunk and she knew it. It
would have done me no good to argue that I had nothing to do with sending
any invitations to anyone. Susan would just explain it away that I had been
under a great deal of stress and tended to blank out gennie's actions
sometimes. And she still had not answered my question about "training
hours'. I wanted to ask more questions, to try and postpone the inevitable
but my dear sweet sister had been keeping track of the time and it was
almost time for our guests to arrive.

"It's time dear, don't keep Karin waiting." I didn't even bother to argue.

The meeting was actually quite relaxing and informative, but don't tell my
ladies I said that. I would never live it down if they knew that I had
admitted that I enjoyed myself that night. I can't really say that I knew
what I was expecting that evening, but it certainly wasn't what occurred.

The first "guest" arrived just as Karin had finished her touch-up job on my
ravaged face. Her name was Alana; she was so sweet I could have talked with
her forever. She was 42 years old and had spent most of her life in torment
and denial. It seems her father had an attitude very similar to my own
father and when he caught the then Alan in a dress he went ballistic. He
threatened Alan with severe physical harm and told him that if he ever
caught him in a dress ever again he would throw him out of the house and
disown him completely. Not understanding that there really was nothing wrong
with him Alan, like me, spent the next umpteen years tormenting himself in
an attempt to win his father's favor.  Throughout high school he played
football, was on the rifle and track teams, and gained the highest rank he
could in JROTC, whatever he could to prove that he was ALL male. After high
school he enlisted in the Marines, again because they only took real men,
and spent the next twenty years in excruciating internal torment and denial.
She said he lost track of the number of times he sat alone in his apartment,
his pistol in his hand, barrel in his mouth, his religious faith the only
thing stopping him from pulling the trigger. He tried the military shrink
but found little help there, since he was afraid to open up and be honest
with him. He never married and dated only enough to keep others from
questioning his sexuality.  It was not until he retired from the military
that he decided to explore his inner feelings. At just over 6 feet tall he
believed that he could never live as he felt, as a woman, but that he would
at least express himself when alone, to hell with his father and to hell
with the military's don't ask don't tell policy.  He started exploring his
options; he bucked up his courage and visited some "gay bars" to see what
they were like.  He found that he preferred men as partners but not as a man
that he wanted to be the woman in a relationship.  He researched his
"problem" found a name for it and learned that he could live his life as his
inner-self had desired for so long. He found a doctor, started on hormone
therapy and found a transformation salon to help him with his appearance. He
had become she and for the first time in her life felt relaxed and
comfortable with herself.

When I first saw her I was of course stunned by her size but never once did
I question her femininity. I at first wondered why she there, there was no
way this woman could ever had been a man. She was dressed in a conservative
cotton dress, what my mother would have called a house dress and low heeled
shoes. Her hair was gently curled and framed her face beautifully. It was
soft and shiny with wispy bangs on her forehead and she wore small a small
hoop earring in each ear.  Her make-up (done by herself without Karin's
help) was soft and subdued and done in such a way that she looked to me much
younger than her 42 reported years.  When she asked about my fantasy outfit
I could only blush and try to explain.

"One of the outfits that I frequently nag my wife about wearing is the cute
little coed sex-kitten, she has such a great ass and her tits are so
perfect. She always complained how embarrassing it is to wear, but I never
believed her I always thought it was just an excuse not to dress in
something special for me, until now that is. Being dressed like this with
everything on display and accented is bad enough but then to be seen by
strangers I think I am beginning understand what she was getting at. I guess
since I made such a big deal about it she figured that I should get the
chance to experience life as a sex-kitten myself. So she dressed me like
this and here I am." I sighed.

For some reason she found my answer wildly humorous as she replied: "Your
WIFE dressed you!? And you're complaining!? Sweetie, you have no idea how
lucky you are. You're surrounded by the ones you love, I understand that Dr.
Sue and the beauty expert in the bedroom are your sisters, and your wife is
here also. Wow, you are so lucky! What I would have given for that kind of
support, I can only imagine."

My only response was to blush like the girl I appeared to be. It took a few
seconds for me compose myself before I was finally able to ask her why she
hadn't worn her fantasy outfit to the meeting.

She laughed again. "Oh gennie, don't you see I am in my fantasy costume. My
dearest fantasy is to one day get married and settle down as an ordinary
housewife. Maybe find a man who has kids or adopt some and become a wife and
mother. To be able to live my life as it should have been lived that's my
fantasy."

I was flabbergasted. I had never thought of being a housewife as a dream
fantasy for anyone. But as I thought about it I found that after all those
years of denial and pain that her's was a very much less a favorite fantasy
and very much more a noble goal.  I had more questions to ask but the other
"guests" were arriving and I was expected to greet them and guide them into
Karin's capable hands for whatever transformation help they may need.

Author's Note:
Ladies and gentlemen, I need to know if I am on the right track here. In
this story there is no sex, there are no bizarre transformations nor kinky
sex scenes beyond the fact that our hero is in a chastity belt. Am I wasting
my time writing a story like this? Am I writing it only for those 2 people
who have been gracious enough to tell me what they think? Am I going too far
in explaining people's feelings and backgrounds? Enquiring mind wants to
know. SIBC (should it be continued)?

Miss_gennie@myway.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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