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From: gennie TV <miss_gennie@hotmail.com>
Subject: NEW TG STORY:ManMaid pt 4
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The following story is meant for a mature audience.  If you are under
the allowable age wherever you live then you are not allowed to read
this.  If you are looking for a 'hot' story with lots of sex, don't
bother to read any further.  This story was designed to express a
favorite fantasy of mine about how a self centered man is taught to
appreciate the softer side of his personality.  Unwillingly forced
into cross dressing by his wife he ...


Man Maid ---- Part 4 ---- October 1997
gennie TV
   **********************


 "All I have to do is figure out where the box is located,
and whose name it's in, and then go in, dressed as gennie, and I
have my freedom. That's it? No problem. You bet sis. A daunting
task dressed as myself with access to my car, nearly impossible
in my current state, hell I can barely walk let alone chase around
the city trying to find a safe deposit box. Not to mention that I
would be the laughing stock of the city dressed like this." I tried
to sound as sarcastic as possible as I replied to my dear sister.

 "Oh I see. Debbie did you hear that? 'Little gennie' thinks
that people will laugh at her if she goes out wearing a skirt. She
thinks it looks funny to wear a skirt. Then that must mean that all
the times she has harassed you about not wearing a skirt, and
trying to coerce you into wearing one, was so that she could have
people laugh at you. She didn't want you to look pretty for her,
she wanted to make fun of you."

 "gennie is that what you think? Yes it must be I heard you
with my own ears. Oh dear how could you? All this time I thought
your motives were simply a post adolescence fantasy of what a woman
should look like, but now I find out that you wanted me to wear
skirts so that you could laugh at me. When did you first have this
desire to humiliate me?"

 "But... but... that's not what I meant... Why are you two
turning everything I say around into a slam against women?"

 "Because dear, everything you say is a slam against women,
you just don't realize it. Now dear, if I were you, I would shut up
and head out to the car and retrieve those packages from the back
seat so that I would have something to wear this evening. You have
insulted Karin and I quite enough for one day. Any more noise out
you and I just might take Karin's advice and forget where I put my
copy of your chastity key for a very long time. Would you like that
dear?"

 To add emphasis to her final question she approached me,
threw her arms around my neck and pulled me against her beautifully
curvaceous body planting a long sensuous, tongue filled kiss onto my
painted lips. Her hands slowly sliding  down the back of my body.
Lingering briefly at my shoulders, her long fingernails outlining the
straps of my slip and corset through the silk of my ever so sheer
blouse, my shoulders quake at the sensation, my mind screams YES! My
own fingers seek out the same target on Debbie but find no target,
just smooth shoulders and back under her shirt. Debbie was braless!
Into my mind sprang an image that I would never have believed: Debbie
and I in bed, tit to tit, me in a sheer shimmery bra and matching
panties, Debbie in her naked glory straddled atop  me, leaning over
to kiss me,  her hands on MY tits.  I wanted to rebel against that
image, but it only became stronger as her delicate hands made their
way further down my silk covered back. Slowly, ever so slowly, her
hands slide across my back, silk against two layers of satin, her
fingernails never missing an opportunity to outline the stays of my
imprisoning corset, my whole body feeling the indescribable sensations
that only true sexual play can bring. Her hands continue their mind
boggling journey until  finally reaching  their  destination they grab
and begin to massage my well padded ass. Her kiss continues, my first
experience with a lipstick to lipstick kiss (I knew then I would not
want it to be my last, would you?), a kind of sticky, slippery
sensation that felt like our lips were being glued together at the
same time that they were sliding apart. Our lips each with their own
distinctive aroma. You know, that scent that only lipstick can
provide, intensified two fold because you are both wearing it. Her
foot sliding up my nylon encased calf. The feel of my legs being
rubbed through sexy sheer stockings sending electric tendrils
directly up my legs into my groin (me wondering: If this feeling is
this intense with those heavy pantyhose on under my stockings what
must it be like with smooth, silky, hairless legs, and sheer silky
stockings held up by only the laciest wisp of a garter belt?), my
trapped member struggling against its confinement. Her knee pressing
into my groin, my own imprisoned leg attempting to wrap around her
beautiful body, my mind caught in a whirlpool of emotion swirling
deeper into its own imprisoned state. One more brick broken from
my carefully constructed wall protecting my innermost self from the
"manly" persona inflicted by years of correction for exhibiting any
trait or mannerism that "HE" (my father) considered even the
slightest bit feminine. All combined to cause my weakened mind to
withdraw further from Dan and move inexorably  one step closer to
gennie. My knees went weak, my breathing quick and shallow, as my
body shuddered in what felt like an orgasm without  ejaculation, I
thought I would faint again. The sensation of all that satin sliding
around on my ass and body, combined with Debbie's more than ample
tits pressing into my own well padded chest, caused the corset to
pull up against my waist as my own tits were pressed up into their
bra cups the sliding satin sending sensuous, sexy tendrils of
electric shock though my abdomen and groin. The intensity of the
would have been orgasm so great that I feared my cock would get
hard in spite of its awful confinement and cause damage to my poor
encased little precious. I was lost to her will at that moment and
she knew it.

 Karin stood on the sidelines cheering her encouragement.
"Yeah bro-sis, go for it. What a hot little number you are. All
right, with passion like that you'll have every guy at the ball
wanting a piece of that sweet little ass of yours."

 Any other time I would have been upset with her taunts
but Debbie tasted sooo good and the electricity coursing through
my body held me in its embrace so thoroughly that I was barely
even aware of her presence.

 Upon breaking her embrace Debbie asked, "Well sweetie still
in the mood to argue? Ready for Karin to get started on your face now,
or do you still want to rant and rave about your poor "little precious"
and its cute little prison? (How did she know I call my cock little
precious? It really is small in its flaccid state and I have been self
conscious of it since puberty, I was taught that just like big tits
made for a real woman, a big cock made for a real man. Since I did not
have a big cock I had to make people think I did. I must talk in my
sleep, yes that's it, I talk in my sleep. How else could she know? What
other of my secrets does she know?) My original plan was to let it out
for a short time tonight so that I might play with it but, the way you
have been acting I guess I will just have rely on my vibrator instead,
perhaps you would like to borrow it too, it's sometimes a girl's best
friend you know."

 "Debbie...I...I...I...  <deep sigh>  I guess I'll go get the
packages from the car. But how can I go out dressed like this? What if
I'm seen by someone who knows me? I'll never be able to live this down.
I'm a man and everyone knows it, and men just don't walk around in
tight skirts and transparent blouses. Can't I wear something at least
a little less revealing? Maybe a jacket or something? This blouse is
so sheer it's almost like it's not even there. And the way my ass
wiggles when I walk in this skirt, I will draw everybody's attention
straight to my ass just walking out to the car. I don't know if I can
go out dressed like this."

 "But dear if it was me in that outfit you would not think
twice about sending me out to the car to bring something in."

 "But you're a woman, you're supposed to dress like this.
Women were designed to have their asses stared at. (Would I ever
learn to keep my mouth shut?) I'm a man. I'm not supposed to wiggle
when I walk, but in this ...outfit... I have no choice."

 "There you go with that double standard attitude again. Welcome
to the real world gennie. You really don't understand that it is just
as embarrassing for a woman to be stared at in that kind of an outfit
as it is for you, do you?"

 "Well if it's so embarrassing for women to wear sexy clothes,
why do it? Nobody is forcing them into it. (oops, there I go again)
Don't women want to look good for their men? Dress a little sexy to
show off their bodies like they were meant to be seen? (ever deeper
I dig my own hole) OK I admit to the inconveniences of a skirt and
can understand why you don't want to wear a nice tight skirt to do
the house work. If I promise not to ask you to wear tight skirts
anymore will you release me? I think I've learned my lesson."

 The smoke curling from her ears should have been an indication
of what she thought of my reasoning. "RELEASE YOU?! LEARNED YOUR
LESSON?! I thought we just went through this. You will be released when
you have come to grips with what you have become, and when you can
finally allow yourself to be the person you really are. No more
posturing or false bravado. It's exactly that attitude that has built
the glass ceiling and made it so hard for women to be treated as equals
in our society. Sexy clothes are just one of the things we girls have
to live with to survive. We don't put up with being stared at because we

ask for it or like it, we put up with it because we have to. And now
you have a chance to see what it's like. Isn't it fun gennie?"

 Reaching into her purse she pulled out a pair of dark oversized
sun glasses with roses at each of the top corners, and said, "Here wear
these, with those big tits and sweet round ass even if someone did
see you they would only see the woman you now are, and the glasses
are big enough to cover your face so no one will ever recognize you.
Go look in the mirror if you don't believe me, you won't even
recognize yourself."

 There was no need to look in the mirror, I had been doing
just that all day. Every time I struggled out of and back into this
satin prison I would look up and briefly wonder who the sexy chick
with the big tits and nice ass was, before I would realize that that
sexy chick was a man...me!

********************************************************************

 By this time my options were limited to say the least. I
knew in my heart that my wife and sisters would not do me any
permanent physical harm.  I also knew that I loved my wife dearly,
and would do almost anything for her.  Perhaps if I had rebelled at
the beginning, just sat down on the bed and refused to get dressed.
I would have been in a better position to protest when she got home.
But let me tell ya guys, it is very disconcerting to wake up with
certain additions and losses to your normal anatomy. I was not really
awake when I started, and Debbie's notes seemed so well thought out
that I just could not at the time think of any alternative but to
cooperate and hope that she would relent within a few days. I guess
I could have tried hiding and when she got home attack and demand that
she release me, but then if I tried something like that and failed...
Or I could have called the Police and ended not only my marriage but
my career as well. Not to mention the fact that I had been raised
with the belief that a man solves his own problems and does not let
others, especially public officials, know what they are.

 No, I was stuck and I knew it. My personal priorities of
family, home and career were more important to me than what clothes
I would wear on any given day. I could play their game for a while,
I could pretend to become whatever they wanted me to become, and
they would never know the difference (my only fear was that I would
stop pretending and allow myself to enjoy the sensations that had been
coursing through my body all day). And then there was that kiss that
Debbie had just planted on me. Talk about confused feelings, the
sensations of all that satin, the helplessness I felt while in her
arms. The total release of myself to her will, it all felt so
liberating, so right, but of course I knew that I was just lost in
the moment, I was a man and as such would never allow myself to give
in to such feelings, it was all just the result of the stress of the
day. There was no way that I could enjoy being dressed like a woman.
Because I was a man I could never in a hundred years be the submissive
partner in a relationship, could I? I mean it felt really, really nice
just then letting Debbie be the aggressor for a change. I know that if
mom was still around she would tell me it was OK to feel that way. Why
did she have to be the one with cancer? Why couldn't it have been him
instead? Mom understood people, she knew that sometimes everyone, even
males, have a need to be soft and gentle, to allow themselves to crack
that hard manly shell that our society demands of men. HE never
understood that, he was so locked into his men are superior by right
of birth mindset that he never could have understood that. He believed
that any expression of emotion from a man was a sign of weakness, and
there was no way he was going to have a "weak, wimpy" son, no matter
what it took. And he didn't, I learned my lesson well. To be called a
"male chauvinist pig" I considered a compliment. My bearing was more of
swagger than a walk, my comments toward women rude and derogatory, my
tolerance for anyone or anything even the least bit different from the
norm was nonexistent, and my treatment of my girlfriends through
high school, and early college was one of me Tarzan, you less than
Jane.

 Then I met Debbie. Ahhh, Debbie! <sigh> Five, seven, 135 lbs.,
big beautiful blue eyes, long dark wavy hair, full sensuous lips, 'C'
cup tits, and the roundest, firmest, softest, (does that make any
sense?) sweetest ass I had ever seen. I first fell in love with her
body, then with her. She was two years younger than I, the same age as
my sister Karin. She seemed to understand me, to be interested in me
in spite of the way I acted (I was not used to a "girl" sticking
with me for more than one or two dates before I would scare them away).
Debbie, helped return me to being human (at least somewhat), she got
me to mellow in my demands on her, re-trained me to say please and
thank you, when I was addressing her, she even got me to let my hair
grow out from the buzz cut I had worn for so long. She seemed to
understand me as no one ever had. She had patience with me, something
I was not used to from anyone. I fell and remain still, head over
(spike) heels in love with her. Standing there pleading with her to
let me at least wear a jacket, with Karin taunting me from the
sidelines, I finally began to understand why she seemed to know so
much about me, she had been friends with my sister since high school
and was interested in me then (who knows what attracts people to each
other, I have no idea what Debbie saw in me, but she decided then
that she wanted me), and my blabber mouth sister told her EVERYTHING
about me. Debbie knew me, knew all about me, the real me before she
even met me.

*********************************************************************


 So it was with wobbling ankles, mincing steps, and swaying
ass that I headed for the front door and the outside world. My wife
and sister behind me taunting me with whistles and cat calls. Making
comments about my swaying ass (I guess I did bring that on myself)
and how my skirt made it stand out so well. I couldn't see my face
but I am sure, judging from its temperature that I was blushing the
brightest shade of crimson that could be imagined.

 I had never before realized how safe and warm the inside of
a person's home could be, nor how scary the simple act of walking out
of the house sometimes is. In my mind I knew that no one could see me
walk from the house to the car, between the wall and the hedges no
one could even see the house from the street let alone someone walking
from the front door to the driveway. But knowing something in my mind
and convincing my racing heart and trembling hands were two entirely
different things. Oh be still my racing heart ...



Readers:
Am I on the right track? Am I keeping the spirit of the story intact?
It seems to be so long, I always worry that y'all will lose interest
in a story based mostly on thoughts and feelings. For a story that
I had never intended to write it is already up to 100kb, and at the
rate I am going it looks like it could be another 100 before I close.
I am sorry for the long delay between chapters but time is currently
at a premium for me. Thank you once again for the wonderful messages
of support, I get very pink warm fuzzies from positive e-mail. (negative

e-mail I feed to the dogs, big ferocious 10 pound ones)


 miss_gennie@hotmail.com

Love,
gennie :-)

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