'Institutionalized by My Wife's Lover', Segment Two

Michael Devereau

For how many days have I been so tightly trussed, each time coming out of a fog to have another hypodermic needle thrust into me?

Finally, as things begin to clear up, I try to think about the moments before being strapped down... as I recall kneeling, licking my Master’s penis. This nurse interrupts my reverie.

It is the annoying young receptionist from the office of Dr. Michelle White!  

As my head clears I recall what turned out to be our last encounter... her hands tenderly kneading my breasts as I watched a videotape and my wife commanded me to come. Moments later positioning my filled blue plate... utilized as a prompt for climactic relief... under my face and so exuberantly watching as I licked it clean.

She speaks. I listen, I can do little else being so well bound, some steel contraption in my mouth inhibiting speech. 

I learn the reason for my incarceration is that I bit my Master! And I learn the punishment... penalty... is to endure rehabilitation. To be a guest for a long, long time.

“You seem even more effeminate since I last saw you, Mr. Devereau,” such an angelic face, yet her words come across as so daunting, as I feel her fingers working about my pubes.

It is true. In the many years since the appointments at Dr. Michelle’s office ended... substituted by visits to the professional dominatrix Miss Greta... there came concerted efforts by my wife and my immediate superior, housekeeper Miss Modena, to have me appear as girlish as possible. The ruse was that the growing children would not be confused by my gender... appearing in blouse, skirt, shoulder length hair, and meticulous make up applied by Miss Modena. 

Yet the real reason was to assure the supremacy of the Master of the house... the alpha male... keeping in check my self esteem... better described as any remnants of male pride.

Master enjoyed running his fingers through my long coifed hair as I paid homage by licking his penis, so much enjoying my humiliation. 

The girl... guess I now must think of her as my nurse and care provider... toys with my breasts. Years ago gynecomastia was induced by way of a prescription drug, resulting in enlarged mammary glands. Normally considered an affliction in the male, in the haze of being relegated to household servant... regularly watching my wife’s lover bring my wife to the ecstasy I could not... emotional imbalance resulted in the need to please. To do so in a manner void of masculinity. I willingly decided to grow breasts!

In my lower peripheral vision I see she is aligning a receptacle, fingers carefully prodding my penis. It is free! Unlocked! Ironic that it is the only part of my anatomy that can move.

Carefully avoiding the sharp points of my Prince Albert ring, she makes sibilant sounds encouraging urination. How many mornings did I so perform for Miss Modena, my bathroom visits well supervised? Still I blush... closing my eyes to open myself.

“Good boy. Always please your nurse,” the advisement so condescending. 

“You’ll not be permitted clothing here, Mr. Devereau. That is the rule for our subordinate male patients. So when it’s finally deemed appropriate for you to be free to move about... well... your appearance may be found to be a little... ah... confusing... breasts, long hair and a penis.”

At my Master’s mansion I was clothed... blouse and a tight skirt... cloaking a most effective chastity configuration... penis locked to a guiche piercing at my rectum. But it seems at this institute the evidence of my gender... small turning to tiny with the deluge of estrogen... will be exposed.

Gagged, there is nothing I can say or suggest. Even when wife Nicole denied me clothing at our home, my penis was locked in chastity and not to be fully seen.

“And there will be no make up... and certainly no way to style your hair...”

Deed completed, my nurse steps away, disposing that which I have been long trained to accept from women in need.

She returns, standing over me with a smile. Anywhere else, at another time, it would be a pleasant and charming smile. It brings me to shiver. I am so much at her mercy. 

“So we’ll need to complete the... ah... hairless look. It will make you look... well... vulnerable. We prefer that here.”

With that, a hand goes to my right breast, fingers finding my nipple. She cruelly pinches...  sending a message... vulnerable indeed.