Proper Placement

By: Bea

Agnes, my mother-in-law looked at me, an exasperated look on her face.
"What is wrong with you?"  She snapped.  "Am I asking the impossible, or what?
Is it too much that I ask a simple little favor?"

"Oh c'mon, Agnes."  I argued.  "Jesus!  Where do you get the idea that it's such
a simple goddam favor, eh?  I'm thinking that.."
"Stop that profanity!"  She said firmly.  "I'm not religious, but I won't have
you talking to me like that.  A little respect if you please!"

I modified my voice.  "I'm sorry Agnes.  You know I respect you.  But this is
really too much.  I've been helping you for quite a long while now ..."
"If you had a job to keep you occupied?"  She sniped.  "If you weren't being
kept by my daughter working.  If you weren't getting your rent subsidized by
living here with me?  Then you wouldn't have to 'help' me at all, would you?"
"Aw Agnes!" I pleaded.  "You know I've been trying to find work.  There just
doesn't seem to be any around.."

"If you weren't hanging around the house all the time, you might find a job a
little bit easier." She said nastily.
My mouth fell open.  "But I was looking for work.  You can't say I wasn't.  If I
remember right, it was you that started asking me to help around here."
"I asked?  Where'd you get that?  She retorted. "To my recollection it was you
that volunteered. But you're not exactly a whiz at housework you know.  It's not
my fault if a little dusting takes you forever and ..."

"A little dusting?"  I fired back.  "And vacuuming?  And making beds?  And doing
laundry?  And ironing? And cooking?  I even help you with your dressmaking!
And.."
"Oh for goodness sake!" She interrupted.  "Any other girl could do these things
in nothing flat."
"Any other?  Any other?  Any other what?"  I yelled.
She took a step toward me, her eyes blazing.
"Don't  you  dare  talk  to me  like  that!"  She said through clenched teeth.
"Do that one more time and I'll put you over my knees, take your pants down and
give you a damn good spanking!"                               .

It had finally come to pass.  Agnes had always been a little distant from me.
I'd had the distinct impression from the start that she didn't see me as being
good enough for her daughter Linda.  I'd tried to be pleasant but, to be quite
honest, felt that she took my attempts to win her over as a sign of weakness on
my part - a sort of 'unmanliness' if you will.  I kept feeling that she
considered me weak and ineffectual and, as if to prove her absolutely correct,
it didn't take me long to lose my job, become dependent on my wife's salary -
then accede to her suggestion that we move back in with 'mum' - "she's got
plenty of room darling."

At first Agnes was so understanding.  So supportive of me.  "You'll find a job
Chris.  Of course you will.  Don't worry."  She'd put an arm around my shoulders
and give me a strong hug.  "Linda?"  She'd say.  "I've no idea why you're so
down on this young man.  He's trying very hard.  It's not his fault he's so
small that he can't get a job needing muscles."
Linda would look up from her magazine.  Shake her head.  "Mum?  I'm not down on
him at all.  But he's always worked on the clerical side.  I don't know why you
keep on about him going for jobs needing physical strength."
"Well a man can't keep competing with a bunch of women for women's work!  It's
degrading to him!"  Agnes would retort.

And it seemed that every job I did apply for would be considered a 'woman's' job
by Agnes and laughingly dismissed as 'no job for a real man'.  Foolishly, I
began to apply for jobs that I had no hope in hell of getting to impress her.
After some months of rejection I felt absolutely down, totally hopeless.
Worthless.

Then Agnes started dropping little hints as to how she'd really appreciate a
helping hand around the house.  I'd felt so useless for what seemed such a long
time that it felt good to be able to offer my services.
She'd been (seemingly) taken aback when I'd offered to help.
"Oh goodness!"   She exclaimed.  "I wasn't hinting at you.  It's more Linda I
was hoping to shame into assisting her poor old mum.  After all, looking after a
house is woman's work.  All she does is sit around.."
"But Linda's working all day Agnes."  I argued.  "It's not fair to expect her to
come home and help with the house as well .."
"That's true, maybe."  She agreed reluctantly.  "But I'd feel bad asking you to
..."
"Oh please Agnes?  Let me contribute something!"  I'd said.

Suddenly, I found myself contributing a helluva lot more than I'd intended.
Agnes gradually found more and more things for me to do.  Not only that, her
'chores' started taking precedence over anything else - even potential job
interviews.  "But I need you around here!  And anyway - what would you want a
job like that for?  You know you'll just feel bad when you don't get it.  I'd
really like a hand with cleaning the silver tomorrow - and the mattresses need
changing around... And... "

I found myself wearing a series of aprons around the house.  At first they were
quite plain and functional.  Gradually though it seemed that Agnes was wearing
the plainer ones - if she wore any at all - while I graduated to the frillier
versions that were available.  As my 'protective wear' became more and more
feminine, my assigned chores did the same.  Where at first I was often asked to
assist in moving heavy furniture, fixing plumbing fixtures or electrical
problems, my later tasks became more oriented towards clothes:  washing, drying,
ironing, effecting repairs.  The jobs that required 'muscle' waited for Linda to
come home.
After a while, it was also obvious that Agnes had lost just about all respect
for me - and I just couldn't seem to find a way to regain any status with her.
Increasingly, she referred to me as 'her', or 'sissy' to Linda.  I started
complaining to Linda about this, but she'd just give me a puzzled look and tell
me that all I had to do was stand up to her mother.  "Show her you're a man."
My wife said. "Stop wearing these pretty little aprons.  Stop doing women's work
around the house - and tell her to get stuffed every so often - she may pretend
otherwise but that's what she really expects from you."

I recoiled.  Tell Agnes to get stuffed?  Tell her I wasn't going to help?  Stop
wearing my aprons? I grinned weakly.  "Well, it's not that it's that bad." I
said, backing off.
Linda just shrugged.  "Whatever."  She said laconically.  "But if you don't
stand up to her soon, it'll get worse.  Trust me."

She was absolutely correct.  My aprons got frillier, and I ended up doing all of
the housework so that even with two women in the house, I gradually took over
the role - at least I seemed to be perceived as - the feminine little housewife.
 Then Agnes became busier and busier in her dressmaking activities, and was
working on some special project in one of the spare bedrooms, which I was
absolutely forbidden to enter.  The running of the house quickly transferred
completely to me. Even in bed, I seemed to have relinquished any masculine
pride, becoming almost totally submissive to my increasingly dominant wife.
                                .    .    .

But these recollections all faded in the face of my mother in laws outburst.  I
saw the anger and contempt there and, all of a sudden, realized that she was
absolutely capable of carrying out her threat.
I took a deep breath, then surrendered unconditionally.

"I'm sorry Agnes.  Honestly.  Please forgive me.  I didn't realize that I was
being so rude."
Her expression softened a little.  "You'll help me by modeling some of the
clothes I've sewn for Linda then?"  She said, a trace of anger still in her
voice.
I licked my lips nervously.  "But?  Linda and me?  Surely we're not the same
size."
"Amongst your other womanly accomplishments you're a dressmaker now?"  She asked
scornfully.  "I've been sewing for almost thirty years, and I'll tell you that
apart from the bust, you and she are almost identical.  She doesn't have much
hips, and has a skinny ass for a woman.  You've got a nice soft plump ass for a
man, so you're pretty close there.  What is she?  A half inch taller than you?
Nothing to worry about there."

"But isn't the bust size important?"  I broke in.
"Of course it is!"  She answered, obviously puzzled.  Then she caught my drift.
Shook her head, sighed.  "You'll be wearing a bra.  A little padding will take
care of that little problem.   Well?  Are you going to help or not?"

Almost weeping with mortification I nodded.  She gave a little smile.  "C'mon
then sissy, let's get you changed."  Then she led me to my own bedroom.
There, she delved into a drawer.  Pulled out a matching bra, panty and slip set.
 "Here!"  She said.  "Don't be standing around all day.  Get out of your clothes
and into these."
"Agnes?  Please?  I don't really need to wear the panties, do I?"

She grimaced.  "Oh for goodness sake!"  Then she held the panties up for my
inspection.  "They're a lovely shade of blue, sissy, don't you agree?  Satin
too.  Bet you'd like the feel of them. See the nice lace trim?"  She saw the
fear on my face.  Laughed shortly. "Well, I guess not - but hurry up and start
getting these clothes off."

Blushing furiously, I stripped off my shirt and let her put the bra on me.
Smiling, humming to herself a little, she adjusted the straps.  Then she stuffed
the bra cups with tissue, then measured me with a tape measure, then added a
little more padding.
"There!  Told you!"  She said.  "Now get your slip on and get these pants and
the rest of your things off.  Quick now!  Like a bunny!"
"Shoes and socks too?"  I asked.
"Of course!  You'll need to wear heels if I'm to get the hem lengths right.  But
would you hurry up!  I don't have all day!"

With a feeling almost akin to gratitude, I put the slip over my head and let it
slide down over my arms, shoulders, and body.  It did feel extremely sensual,
the satin cool against my burning skin - but it also provided me a measure of
privacy.  Standing there, my chest bare except for a bra had been especially
humiliating.

But worse was to follow.  After taking my shoes and socks off, I loosened my
zipper, unbuckled my belt and let my pants fall.  I'd known that I was being
sexually stimulated by what was going on, but hadn't realized to what extent.
Losing the inhibiting weight of my pants, and being restrained now by only my
lightweight boxer shorts and the material of the slip, my erection became
immediately apparent. To my horror, Agnes came and took a hold of it.

"My, my, my! I keep forgetting,"  she sneered "that you're part male - even
though it's only this little thing. But it does get in the way, you know?"
She thought for a second.  "I know!  Got it!"  She said.  "Get these undershorts
off." She let go of me and went to the dresser drawers.
I started to protest, but thought better of it, and shucked them off under my
slip.

It took most of my concentration to do this, so I was somewhat surprised when
she waved something else in front of me.
"Not as pretty as the panties, I'm afraid - and it won't match the rest of your
undies - but get this panty-girdle on.  It'll be handy now that I think of it.
Give me something to anchor your nylons to."

I couldn't believe it.  She expected me to put this little wrinkled thing around
my tummy?  I knew that I wasn't that fat.  Kinda slim, and proud of it.  But how
did she expect..?

But, tight around my legs and waist as it was, it fitted me.  All the way up to
my crotch, squeezing my erection in underneath it, until there was no evidence
that I was in any way, a male.  The loose little suspender straps for the
stockings distracted me, but not for long as, once Agnes had made me put on
nylons and attached them to the straps, they were tautened under my slip, and
not so obvious.

She inspected my underarms and then hiked the hem of my slip up and checked my
legs.  Let the hem fall back into position and gave me a little saccharin smile.
 "Little sissy smoothie, is it?"  She asked.  "All nice and smooth for Linda,
eh?  Or do you shave yourself smooth just for your own enjoyment?"

Standing there in women's lingerie, my padded bra giving me the shape of a woman
in the upper body, my panty girdle hiding all vestiges of masculinity underneath
and, at the same time forming my rectal plumpness into a more rounded, feminine,
version - I knew that any explanation of why I'd shaved myself smooth for Linda
would be worthless.  I just hung my head in shame.

She gave my satin covered rump a soft slap, then used the palm of her hand to
caress my backside, then whispered softly in my ear.  "Would sissy like mummy to
give her a little spanking, eh?  Bet she'd like that.  She could lie over
Agnes's knees and wriggle around in her satin undies.  Mummy wouldn't hurt her.
Just give her little love taps.  Honest.  Would you like that, sissy?  After
that?  Why you'd never have to pretend that you were a man again."

The horror at her words was increased by my own reaction to them.  I was
immediately grateful for the panty girdle as I could feel an immediate erection
fighting against its restriction, but being stifled.  I was fully aware in that
moment that, if I hadn't had it on, Agnes would have immediately seen my
erection and I'd have had no choice in the matter.  As it was, I barely managed
to shake my head, too frightened to speak.
"Aw!  What a shame!  Maybe later, huh?"  She said, then got back to business.
"Here.  Put these shoes on and stand up here on this little pedestal."

I'd seen the high heel shoes readied for me, but knew better than pretend that I
had any difficulty in putting them on, or walking in them.  Some weeks before,
I'd told Linda how I'd once played a woman’s part in a play at college.  She'd
asked if I'd had any trouble with the heels.  I said I hadn't.  She looked at me
askance.  Confidently, I'd said I figured I still could -  figured it was like
learning to ride a bike, once you knew how, it was difficult to forget.  She and
Agnes had both pooh poohed my statement, so I'd proved them wrong by wearing a
pair of Linda's for almost the full evening after that.

I slipped the shoes on.  They were more like high heeled dress slippers than
anything else, pom poms of some feathery light blue lace on the front. She then
motioned me up on to the small circular stool pedestal she had her customers
stand when she measured them for dresses and so on.  Feeling rather stupid, I
did so.

I'd thought my humiliation almost complete, but more was to follow.  Agnes
circled me.  Had me make quarter turns, hold my arms up, then lift the hems of
my slip up to let her examine my legs.  As I did so, I heard the door to the
room open. Scared out of my mind, not being able to see who it was, I let go of
my slip.
"Oh sissy!  Behave!  It's only Rhonda!" Agnes snapped.

And I heard my sister in laws voice.  "Sorry I'm late mom.  Had a dye job go
funny on a new customer.  Just had to placate her before she left."  She came
and stood in front of me, eyed me up and down.  "Mmmm.  Looks good mom.  Got
sissy all ready for me?"
"Oh, that's alright Rhonda,"  Agnes said.  "Plenty of time.  Yeah.  Sissy is
ready.  Aren't you, sissy?"

I looked from mother to daughter.  Both were obviously expecting a reply from
me.
"I don't know, Agnes.  What do you mean?"  I said hesitantly.
"Oh!  That's a thing I've been meaning to talk to you about."  She said. "From
now on, I want you to call me 'mummy dear' at all times."
"You want me to call you mummy?"  I said, disbelievingly.
"No!  Aren't you listening?  I said 'mummy dear'.  Both words!"
"Mummy dear?" I asked.
"That's right.  That's what you're going to call me when you start a
conversation, or talk about me to the girls - or anybody else.  Understand?
"Yes."  I answered.
"Yes what?"  She demanded.
"Yes mummy dear."

She smiled happily.  "There!  That's a clever sissy!  Isn't he the cutest little
thing Rhonda?  All meek and docile.  Gonna be pretty too, don't you think?"
Rhonda nodded agreeably.  "Must admit mom.  Thought you were crazy.  Now I can
see what you were talking about."  She turned her attention back to me.  "Coming
luv?  Ready?"
"I'm sorry Rhonda.  I don't understand.  Ready for what?"
She smiled sympathetically.

Rhonda is my sister in law.  Very pretty - a little on the plump side maybe, but
has a nice smile.  Always dresses neatly, very rarely wears pants of any
description.  She and I got on very well.  She was amiable and not bossy at all.
 Both Linda and Agnes kept advising her to be more aggressive both in
personality and business.  She ignored them completely, saying that she was
happy with the way she was - and her beauty shop was running just fine.  Why
should she take on all the hassle of opening another?

My thoughts were interrupted by Agnes.  "You don't really need to understand
anything sissy.  Don't bother your pretty little head about things too
complicated for you.  Just go with Rhonda.  Ok?"
"Oh, ok."  I said, stepping down from the pedestal.
"Oh, ok what?"  Agnes snapped. "I'm not going to be constantly reminding you."
"Oh!  I'm sorry mummy dear."  I apologized weakly.
She gave me a bright smile.  "That's better!  Now do a good job Rhonda!"

It only took a few minutes for me to discover why Rhonda was there.  With a
light blue smock on to protect my undies, I was seated at the sink in the
bathroom having my hair shampooed.  Rhonda hadn't attempted to hide the contents
of a bag she'd produced - bottles of different lotions, rollers, bobbi pins, a
curling iron.  She'd also rolled out Linda's hair drying machine - so I knew
that I was going to have my hair 'done'.  To make matters worse, she produced
some colored photographs of styles she thought would suit me, and asked me to
choose.  None of them bore the slightest resemblance to anything masculine of
course.

Even knowing it was hopeless, I still tried to pretend a masculine reaction -
which she objected to.
"Look sissy.  We're friends, and I want to stay that way - but you are going to
help me here.  If you don't?  I'll just have to call on mummy dear to speak to
you - and you don't want that, do you?"
"No Rhonda.  Please don't!"
"Ok then sweetie.  I won't.  But which style do you want, eh?"
And I picked a short bouffant style with a slight flip at the back and a row of
small curls along the forehead.

After the lotions had been applied, the rollers set, and some curls established
and anchored by the bobbi pins, I was seated under the dryer.
"It'll take a while."  She said.  "So may as well get your nails done while
we're waiting, eh?"
"Rhonda?  Please?  What's going on?  What's this all in aid of?"

She took one of my hands and placed it in a dish of a soft liquid.  "Keep it
there for a few minutes."  She ordered softly.  Then she lifted the drier a
fraction and checked my hair.  Nodded, satisfied. Sat down in a chair beside me.
"Well.   Looks like we have a few minutes to chat.  And you want to know what's
going on?  That it?"
I nodded.

She cocked her head to one side and gave me a quizzical look.  "Mom's always had
this 'thing' about effeminate young men.  Linda was more inclined towards normal
guys..."
"That's why she married me?" I interrupted.
"Yeah.  Well, I have to admit that I was surprised when she picked you - you
being so little and all.  And I don't mean to hurt your feelings dear, but you
aren't exactly what I would call 'macho' you know."

Defensively, I plucked at my slip material.  "Well.  It wasn't exactly my idea
to put this stuff on."
"But you are wearing it, aren't you?"  She replied.  "Along with a bra, panties,
stockings and high heels.."
"But that was Agnes.."
"Sissy?  I'm going to tell you something.  You'd better get in the habit right
quick of dropping this 'Agnes' stuff.  She wants you on this mummy-dear shit,
and I wouldn't fight her on it if I were you.  I don't want to, but if you keep
on ignoring her request, I'll have to tattle.  Ok?"
"But it was her."  I said.  "Her that made me put these on."

Rhonda sighed.  Shook her head.  "Look here.  You're dressed up.  You're having
your hair permed into a girl's style.  I'm just about to give you a manicure and
a pedicure.  After that?  I'm going to pluck your eyebrows.  After that?  I'm
going to pierce your ears for earrings.  Then I'm going to make you up.  When
I'm finished with you, it'll be very hard to guess that you ever looked like a
guy."

"But why Rhonda?  Why?"
She shrugged.  "What difference does it make?  You started giving up what
masculine attributes you did have, almost as soon as you got married.  You let
mom push you around.  Started wearing all these pretty little aprons, started
giving in to Linda on just about everything.  Let me ask you this right now.
Who's the masculine one in your marriage bed right now?  You or Linda?  Who's
the boss?"

I didn't answer, but a crimson blush suffused my face.
"See what I'm saying?"  She continued.  "I don't think Linda really cared too
much, one way or the other, but I'd guess that she's starting to like you in the
subordinate position - and with you not fighting - or showing any signs of
masculine pride, I'm of the opinion that, right now, she's simply along for the
ride - and I think that mom is just seeing how far she can push you."
"You're saying that I could still get out of this mess by fighting back?  By
refusing to go along?"  I asked excitedly.

She got up and took my hand out of the dish.  Examined my nails.  Nodded her
head. "Yeah.  Probably.  But here, let me dry this hand off.  Put the other in
the dish."
My breath started coming in short gasps.  "I could start right now?  Get myself
out of this?"
"Of course you could!"  She said sympathetically. "But you're not, are you? 
You gonna go and fight mom?  Yeah, sure!  And look here.  You're getting
yourself all worked up, but didn't you just put your other hand into the dish
so's I could manicure it?  Doesn't come across as someone who's about to fight
tooth and nail for his male pride, does it?

She paused as she started working on my fingernails.  Looked directly into my
eyes. "We can have a nice chat while I'm doing your makeover, or you can go and
tell mom that you're not going to go along with what she's doing to you.  It's
going to be one or the other.  I've absolutely no intention of listening to you
whine on and on about what's being done to you. You gonna behave properly?  Make
up your mind.  Yes or no?"

I knew that I didn't have the courage to go and fight with Agnes.  Knew the
picture of increasing femininity I was making as my sister in law started
working on my nails.  Knew all of this.  Finally accepted that there was nothing
I could - or wanted  - to do.  Settled back in my chair.
She smiled.  "Trust me.  You're going to feel a lot better when I'm finished.
You're going to be really pretty."

Some time later I wasn't pretty - but I did make an attractive girl.  My hair
was a couple of shades lighter.  Dried and brushed out it framed my face in soft
waves, tapering a little to the back.  My eyebrows were distinct, feminine arcs
over long lashed, rather timid looking eyes.  Crimson, wet looking, rather pouty
lips showed my teeth to a level of white that I'd never seen before, and
foundation creams and blusher smoothed out skin imperfections and gave a healthy
sheen to my complexion.  Long crimson nails matched my lips, and a faint miasma
of perfume clung to me.  Lightweight, though long, earrings hung on to my
earlobes through the small holes that Rhonda had pierced there.  The feeling
they imparted stroking the sides of my neck when I moved my head was strangely
sensual.

Rhonda went to the closet and brought out a luxurious cloud of a pale blue
chiffon and lace.  "Isn't this a gorgeous negligee?"  She breathed.  "Here.  Let
me give you a hand to put it on."
I fed my arms into the full sleeves, then stood passively as she tied fine lace
ties at the sleeve ends and around my neck.
"But Rhonda?"  I asked.
"Yes?"
"But Linda would never wear anything like this.  It's far too feminine."
"Linda?  What's she got to do with it?"
"Well mummy dear said I was to help her by model.."
"Oh that?  She was just saying what you needed to hear!  This is yours now.
Maybe you'll want to thank her?  Tell her how much you appreciate all the work
she's put into making it for you?   That would make her very happy, I'd bet."
"Mine?"  I said weakly.
"Yes.  Just like all the pretty lingerie you're wearing.  Custom tailored, just
for you.  Aren't you lucky to have such a loving mother in law?"

My eyes filled with tears of humiliation.  "But Rhonda?  It's ..."
"Don't you dare cry!"  She said quickly.  "For goodness sake!  You'll ruin your
makeup.  C'mon!  Let's go and show mum how pretty you look."  With that, she
gave me a reassuring pat on my backside, took hold of my arm and gently led me
towards the door.  Then she paused.
"Oh wait a minute.  I almost forgot."  She said.
"What?"
"I've got to make sure you're walking properly.  Here.  Walk away from me.
Let's see how you do."
"Walk away from you?"
"Yes.  Walk to the other end of the room, turn around then come back."

Self consciously, my peignoir wafting around me, I walked away from her.
"Quite nice."  She commented.  "But sissy?  Hold your arms a little straighter
down by your sides.  Then sort of hold your palms flat to the floor.  Have your
fingers point away from your body."
"Like this?"  I asked.
"Yes.  Perfect!  Now hold yourself just a little more erect.  Take small steps.
Try to walk so that you're putting one foot directly in front of the other.
That's it!  Now remember to walk that way for the rest of the day."
"The rest of the day?  I'm to wear this the rest of the day?  But mummy dear
said.."
"Oh just shush!"  She retorted.  Just remember to walk like that from now on.
It was time you learned to walk properly."  She grinned, then added "Like a
young lady.  And sissy?  I know you've got a soft voice, but try to remember to
soften it even more.  Ok?"
"Yes Rhonda."  I said meekly.

Then I had to go and thank mummy dear for the pretty negligee and say how much I
loved it.  She beamed.  "You've done a nice job on him Rhonda.  He makes a sweet
little girl."  She put an arm around my waist, pulled me in to her, then laid a
gentle hand on my buttocks.
"Feel better now, sissy?"
"Better?"  I asked.
"Yes, better now that you're wearing proper clothes.  Out of these ugly male
things you seemed SO determined to wear.  Now, I bet you just can't wait to put
on a nice dress, like a proper girl.  Right?"
She gave me a slight spank on my rear as a warning.

And, standing there in my ladies undies and negligee, mummies arm possessively
around me, I simpered happily and  agreed that I just couldn't wait to put on a
pretty dress.

"But first things first, right dear? You'll want to learn how to walk like a
real girl now. Don't you dear?"  She stressed, caressing me softly.
"Yes mummy dear."  I agreed meekly, looking down at my feet in shame.
"And you blush so prettily.  Now I want you to practice some things and remember
some other things. Think you can do that for me, sissy?"
"I'll try, mummy dear."

I didn't understand what she started to have me do.  Walking, I had to start
casually untying the ties at the sleeves and neck, then the sash at my waist.
Next I had to put my hands on my hips, forcing the material to flow behind me
and baring the front of my slip.  Then a few minutes later, after a few
traverses of the room, I had to return my arms to their 'normal' position, then
retie everything again - making sure that I made feminine little bows in the
ties.
"When I blink my eyes rapidly at you?  That's the signal that you've to do this.
 Understand?"
"Yes mummy dear."
"And?  Better learn what materials your negligee and slip are made of.  These
panels are tri-level chiffon.  Those inserts are Thai silk.  These lace edgings
are modified chantille.  Got that?"
I nodded, concentrating on what she'd told me.
"Good.  Repeat back to me what I just said."  She ordered.
I did, to her satisfaction.
"Now your slip?  Satin with nylon tricot lace.  Bra is reinforced, wireless
satin.  Edging is the same as the slip.  Got it?"
"Yes mummy dear."

Just then, the doorbell rang.  "Get that sissy dear, would you?  It'll probably
be the caterers.  Go on!  Quick now!"
Even though I knew I could pass for a woman, my knees were still knocking when I
opened the door.  Two young girls stood there, saying they had trays of canapés
and hors d'oeuvres in their van.  Was it ok to bring them in now?  Horrified by
this new development, I looked at mummy dear.  She waved them in.  "Just set
them down anywhere girls.  We'll place them ourselves."  She said.  The girls
left then made a few trips bringing in about a half dozen large salvers of
munchies.  Apart from some rather envious glances at my peignoir they paid no
attention to me at all.

Rhonda and I ended up setting the tables for a buffet style nosh.  I had to set
up the wines and liquors for the bar, place cocktail napkins, candies, nuts and
little odds and ends.  All of a sudden I realized that while I'd been so
occupied, Rhonda had gone and changed clothes and so had Agnes - I mean mummy
dear.  Both were very smartly tuned out, make up just so.  Obviously they were
hosting some sort of 'do'.  I was getting more and more nervous.  Surely I
wasn't going to be expected to walk around in what was practically a state of
undress.  Finally, I could stand it no longer.

I coughed delicately to get her attention.  "Mummy dear?  Are you and Rhonda
having a party?"
"Well, it's more business than party - but yes, I guess you could say we're
having a party."  She gave me a direct look from her blue eyes.  "Why? Is
something wrong, sissy?"
"Well ... Shouldn't I be changing .. or something?"  I asked tentatively.
"Oh yes!  You'll have to change, but not right now sweetie.  Ok?"

I let a silent sigh of relief escape me, but the sense of relief didn't last too
long.
"Oh damn!"  Mummy dear said loudly.  "The bloody carpet!  C'mon sissy, give me a
hand!"
I didn't know what she was talking about, but she dove into the hall closet and
came out with a roll of red carpeting about two feet wide.
"Quick!  Help me lay this down the center of the living room.  Don't you dare
get any smudges on your negligee.  Here!  Hold this end while I unroll it."

Confused - what was this bloody thing for?  I nonetheless did as she told me.
Puffing with exertion a little, I looked at the red swathe down the center of
the living room floor after we adjusted it for straightness and so on.  Then I
heard the doorbell ring again.
"Wow!  Just in time!"  Rhonda said.  "Geez mom.  I always thought you planned
better than that!"
"Aw, shut up Rhonda."  Mummy dear said.  "Just go and answer the door.  That'll
probably be the girls right enough."
"Ok.  But what did your last servant die of?"  Rhonda complained as she went to
the door.
"Shouldn't I - mummy dear?  Shouldn't I...?"  I stammered as Rhonda approached
the door.
"Shouldn't you what?"  She replied impatiently, taking hold of my arm and
pulling me towards the door and the visitors coming in.
"Change!  You said.."
"I said later!  Now come and meet my friends!"

Horror struck in earnest now, I saw Rhonda open the door wide to let a group of
ladies - about ten in all, come into the house.  Mummy dear had an arm around my
waist now, and was smiling and exchanging kisses with her guests.  Then she made
a statement that was the ultimate embarrassment.
"Girls!  I'd like you all to meet my son in law, Chris, Linda's wife - oh I'm
sorry!  Her husband!  Most of you have met my daughter Rhonda before, right?"

There was a moment of stunned disbelief, punctuated by a giggle or two.
"Your son in law?"  A dark haired woman said.  "You been drinkin' Aggie?  Don't
look like no son in law to me!"
"Well?  Even I get confused sometimes."  Mummy dear said shyly.  "Call him 'she'
or 'her'.  But he's been so much help around the house.."
"I'd bet on that!"  A blonde lady said.
"..That I can now return to my dressmaking for all you old customers.  And I
thought that, today?  You'd see that if I can make a 'man' look good?  Just
think what I could do for you!"

She turned to me.  "Sissy?  Why don't you just stroll down the carpet to the end
of the room, then come back - maybe do it a couple of times?  Let these ladies
see your nice outfit?  Remember though.  Walk nicely!"

And I realized what the carpet was there for - it was for me to model her
handiwork.   Slowly, remembering what Rhonda had taught me, I walked to the end
of the carpet, then started back.  To my horror, I saw mummy dear blink her eyes
rapidly at me.  There were a few claps - and a couple of low wolf whistles as I
loosened off the ties and sash, before going into what I now realized was a
mannequin's strut.

Humiliated beyond belief, I walked the carpet for another couple of minutes,
before being allowed to start serving the ladies with drinks from the bar that
Rhonda was supervising.  I discovered why I'd been required to memorize the
facts pertaining to my clothes - some of the ladies would motion me over to
them, then ask questions about what I was wearing - in the meantime feeling the
material, lifting up the hem to see the quality of the sewing.  I let out a
surprised squeal when the dark haired woman snapped my bra strap.
"Oh Helen!"  One of the group remonstrated.  "That's not nice.  You hate someone
doing it to you.  Why do it to her - I mean him."
"Damn right I hate it!"  Helen said.  "But when I think of all the times that
men have done it to me, I just can't resist doing it to a man when I get the
chance."
"He's not much of a man though, is he?"  Another lady said mockingly.
"Ask me if I care!"  Helen countered, quickly snapping my strap again.

"Sissy?"  I heard mummy dear say.  "Why don't you run along with Rhonda and
change?  It looks as if everyone has drinks now."
I let out a sigh of relief.  Was actually going to ask if I could take my makeup
off, but then decided that if I asked, she would probably say 'no', whereas if I
just took it off, I could pretend that I'd thought that was what she wanted.  I
couldn't figure why I should have Rhonda along with me though.

That question was answered very quickly.  Instead of heading back for my own
bedroom, Rhonda led me down the hall to the room that I'd been ordered not to
enter.  Warily, I shied away from the door that Rhonda was opening.
"What's the matter?"  She asked.
"Mummy dear said I wasn't to go in there."
"Oh yeah.  Well it's all right now.  C'mon sissy."  And she opened the door and
went in.

I got quite a surprise when I followed her:  the whole room had been
re-decorated.  A regular sized bed took up the center of the room, but it was
canopied in frilled white hangings.  Large feminine pillows in pink and white
were fluffed up on the bed on top of a laced bedspread.  The rest of the room
was done in a frilled chintz.
"Wow!"  I said.
"Yeah.  Mum did a nice job.  It's a real pretty room don't you think?"
"Yes.  But why all the secrecy?"
"She'll explain that sooner or later."  Rhonda said.  "But enough of this
chatter.  Let's get you changed."
"But my clothes are all up in my bedroom."  I said, puzzled.
"Not these."  Rhonda said, going into the closet and bringing out a couple of
hangers with something black on one and white on the other.  She took the items
off and held them out towards me.
"Here sissy.  Take your negligee off.  Put this skirt and blouse on."

"But mummy dear said I could get changed."
"Yes?"
"But I thought she meant .."
Rhonda let out a laugh.  "You thought she was going to let you put men's clothes
on again.  Are you crazy?  C'mon.  We don't have all day.  You'll like this
skirt.  Pure velvet.  And the blouse is satin.  You'll just love them..."
"But.  But.  They're women's clothes."  Was all I could manage to say.
She stared at me.  "And your negligee that you've been floating around in for
the last few hours?  What do you think that is?  What all the macho men are
wearing?"

How could I explain to her?  The underwear?  Well, ok, it was feminine, no
denying it, but wearing it so that mummy dear could size clothes for Linda -
that made sense.  Putting a negligee over it - that made sense too, I mean who
wants to be seen wandering around in her - I mean his - undies?
The makeup?  Perfume?  Well, they were harder to explain, but there had to be a
reason.  Surely!  But putting on a skirt and blouse?  That was something else
all together. With them, I was admitting that I was a woman!

My mental meanderings were brought to a quick close as Rhonda came and put her
hands on me.
"But I thought .. Mummy dear said... Please Rhonda?  Don't!"
But Rhonda was untying the ribbons and laces holding me in the peignoir, and
pulling it from around me to lay it on the bed.
"C'mon sissy.  Hold your hands up.  This skirt is too long to step into.  I'll
put it over your head.  Careful of your hair now.  Don't want it mussed, do we.
There!  That's a girl!  Now lets get your pretty blouse on."

And in less than a minute I was standing there in a sleeveless satin blouse and
long black velvet skirt.  The skirt was heavy, with long soft pleats falling the
full length.  The blouse had a shirt front style, but with a deep 'v' neckline
tapering up to a high collar that stood up behind my neck.  Rhonda examined it
very closely as she buttoned me into it.
"Whew!"  She breathed.  "I was scared you'd mark it in some way putting it on,
but it looks real nice.  So lets get your lipstick freshened up, and a new pair
of shoes before we go back out again."

"I've to go back amongst all these women again?"  I whispered fearfully.
"Of course!  What did you expect?"  She answered quickly, then looked at me
sympathetically.
"Haven't figured it out yet?  Have you?"
"What Rhonda?"
She shook her head.  "Mom's been wanting to get back in the dressmaking
business, but couldn't handle the house and the business both.  You're available
now, so that helps.  She's also wanting to give my beauty shop business a
boost".

"But what does all this have to do with me?"  I asked.
"Didn't you hear her out there?"  Rhonda asked unbelievingly, then deepened her
voice in imitation of her mother "If I can make a man look good, just think what
I can do for you..'"  Then she continued.  "And sissy?  You do look really nice
you know.  Very few people would take you for a man - and I'm getting the credit
for making you over - which could bring me some of these women as customers."

"So it's something like I look good, you look good?"  I said.
 She nodded her head slowly, smiling.  "You got it!  That's it exactly!"

Unresisting now, I sat quietly while she freshened my lipstick.  Then she put a
black chunky coral necklace around my neck, and changed my earrings to match.  A
pair of lower heeled shoes completed my outfit.
"With your skirt being on the long side, mom was scared you might step on it,
not being used to long skirts or dresses - yet."

I didn't miss the implication in her use of the word 'yet', but said nothing.
It was well that I didn't because over the next few hours I became increasingly
familiar with both articles she'd mentioned.  I modeled about four more outfits,
gradually accepting what I'd become - a sissy boy in girls clothing - and
becoming more and more comfortable in both the role and the clothes, actually
taking pleasure at the reactions to some of the outfits I wore.

As well as modeling, mummy dear had me circulate with trays containing wines and
soft drinks.  I even became quite adept at filling orders for stronger drinks.
With the wine and liquor consumption increasing, I found myself becoming the
target for some of the more aggressive women's hands:  on my rear, up my skirts,
snapping my bra strap - and/or panty elastic.

Naturally, Helen - the one who'd snapped my bra first - had to be the one that
took it to the next level.  She'd been drinking quite heavily and had continued
to harass me more and more as the afternoon wore on.  Then she went too far.

I had just put my tray of wine down to allow one of the ladies to check the
seams on the skirt I was wearing, when helen grabbed me around the waist, then
pulled me, squealing in fright, down along with her onto a sofa so that I was
sitting on her knee, one hand right up the front of my skirt, the other fondling
my 'breasts'.
"Oooh.  You're such a cutie.  Wanna be my girl?"  She slurred.

I was panic-stricken.  What was I supposed to do?  I looked around to see if I
could get Rhonda to help, but she happened to be out of the room at that moment.
 I wasn't expecting what happened.

Mummy dear stood directly in front of us.
"Helen?  Knock it off!  You're drunk!  Get your hands off her!  She's mine!"
Helen withdrew her hand in a hurry.
"Aw, c'mon Aggie?  I'm just having a little feel for Chrissake.  You can't.."

Mummy dear leaned over and put her face right in helen's and hissed venomously.
"I can do any goddam thing I want to.  You're a customer - a good customer, but
I don't need any shit from you.  So let go of her - and let go of her now!"
"Whooeee!"  Helen said.  "Sorry Aggie.  Honestly.  Didn't mean no harm.  Still
friends?  Here, take her.."  With that she let me go.

Mummy dear pulled me to my feet.  Put her arm around my shoulder.  "Ok dear?
Don't be mad at Helen.  She's really not as bad as she seems.  Just had a little
too much to drink.  You ok?"
My eyes filled with tears, but there was gratitude mixed in with the dreadful
humiliation.   For though mummy dear had dropped all pretense of considering me
any kind of man, she had shown me the first consideration and kindness I had
seen in a long time. I felt her strong arm around me and felt protected.  Laid
my head on her shoulder.
"Thank you mummy dear."  I said quietly.

"There.  There."  She said comfortingly, patting my rear through my skirt.
"C'mon. You've been a really good little girl.  Better than I'd even hoped for.
Not much more to do.  C'mon, I'll help you with this change."

While I changed into my bridesmaids dress - for that was the next outfit to be
shown, I found myself becoming more and more sexually aroused.  Of course, mummy
dear's hands 'accidentally' touching and caressing me had a lot to do with it,
but I'll admit that the sensations as I slipped into my form fitting champagne
colored satin sheath and little black, reversed bolero jacket were becoming more
and more pleasurable.  It was strange, but delightful in a way, not being the
one who was expected to make the advances, be the aggressor.  Towards the end of
the change, I actually found myself leaning back into her arms as she fitted a
new necklace around my neck.  She applied a light kiss to my neck.  I shuddered
in anticipation of what might follow, but that was all she did.

With my bridesmaid's posy of flowers (silk of course) I made quite an impression
on the guests.  I even surprised mummy dear as, on my own and after I had
traversed the 'runway twice, I slipped the little black jacket off and, as I had
seen real models do, sauntered down the carpet, carrying it carelessly slung
over one shoulder.

Blushing with real pleasure I heard quite a few of the ladies clap.  It struck
me then - there were no more snide remarks being made, no more wolf whistles, no
hands pawing at me.  At first I thought it might have been the little fracas
with Helen that had put everyone on their best behavior, but came to the
conclusion that to all the ladies in the room, I was now simply regarded as a
girl - and they were treating me accordingly.

Rhonda helped me into my next outfit - the grand finale - a full wedding dress,
train, and veil.  It felt lovely - hell, I felt lovely.  In a swirling
confection of laces, silks, satins, it felt like I was wearing a cloud.  I loved
the full veil as I knew that my delight was written all over my face, yet was
too shy to show it.  My train draped over my arm as Rhonda had instructed me, I
made slow progress up and down the carpet a few times, everyone clapping now.

I was actually quite disappointed when mummy dear announced that the 'show' was
over, that she hoped the ladies had enjoyed it - and would give her their
custom, as she was now back in business.  She had put her arm around me as she
spoke then, as she finished, she turned to me.  Slowly, she lifted my veil, then
leaned into me and kissed me on the lips.  It wasn't a long kiss by any means,
but I was thrilled.  Mummy dear was making it very plain that she liked me now -
in no uncertain manner.  I was also discovering that, giving in to her had made
her more attractive to me.  I got sort of weak, 'shuddery' feelings when I
thought of her now - in no way unpleasant.

It took me about ten minutes to work my way back through the ladies wanting to
see my dress up close or ask questions, but Rhonda and I finally made it back to
the changing room.

After the exotic and sensuous feel of the clothes I had worn that afternoon, the
thought of changing back into my old male clothing wasn't quite as attractive as
it had been earlier.  I was prepared to do it though, and was quite surprised
when Rhonda went back into the closet one more time and pulled out a black dress
that she laid on the bed.
"Right sissy!  You did a bang up job!  Really!"  She said excitedly.  "I'm still
picking up customers out there, so lets hurry up and get you out of that wedding
gown - I want to get back as soon as I can."

I wasn't sure if the black dress was really for me, but didn't ask any
questions.  Getting out of the gown was quite a lengthy process as there were
all sorts of little buttons and fasteners.  I was really impressed by the amount
of work that had gone into it.  Finally, however, I was back in my undies.
"Oh!" Rhonda said. "Better get that slip off.  It doesn't go with this.  Here,
let me help, so's you don't muss your hair."
Then she gave me a petticoat, quite plain at the top but having a series of
ruffled layers of some brilliant white material for a skirt.  They were entirely
different from anything else I'd worn that day in that they stood out from me,
not horizontally, but close.

From experience, we were working much better now so it was only seconds before I
was in the black dress.  It was quite plain actually, a square neckline with a
white lace trim. But it did have pretty puffy sleeves and a taffeta skirt that
stuck straight out and showed all of my petticoat layers underneath it.  Trying
to figure out what it was, I felt Rhonda lace up the bodice behind me, then tie
me in.

I had to put medium heeled black shoes on, then Rhonda approached me with
something white in her hands.  "Here.  Let's get this on over your head."
Seconds later, she was tying my apron strings behind my back, and I knew that I
was in a maid's uniform.
"But I though the show was over?"  I said.
"It is."  She answered, puzzled.
"But why this then?"  I asked, plucking nervously at my apron.
"I'd say it's pretty obvious.  There's lots of cleaning up to do, and I'd guess
you've been elected.  Here.  Let's get this cap pinned on."

And in a short black dress, my petticoats flouncing up and down every step I
took, the taffeta skirt crackling, my lace cap bobbing, I went back into the
room to help with my assigned chores.

Some of the ladies were still standing around chatting, some even called for
fresh drinks.  I'd expected to be embarrassed by my new dress.  I was, but in an
entirely different way than I'd expected.  Nobody paid the slightest attention
to me - at least no more than they would any other maid.  There weren't any
questions asked of what my dress was made of, or comments about how pretty it
was.  Now it was more like  "oh maid?  Could you freshen this drink for me
please?"  "Or "sweetie?  Get my mink from the spare room. Would you?  There's a
dear!"

I don't know if it was the dress or just my basic nature but, without any
instruction from Rhonda or mummy dear, I knew when to curtsey and how to smile
pleasantly at the ladies.  I saw mummy dear's eyes flash happily one time when
she observed me.

Finally, the last of the ladies were gone.  As I'd been tidying up as they'd
chatted, everything was just about done.  Dishes rinsed and in the dishwasher,
napkins and tablecloths in the laundry hamper, carpet rolled up and put away.
I'd even had time to go to the changing room and hang the wedding gown up a
little more carefully (Rhonda had been in quite a hurry when she put it away,
and I was scared it would get crushed).

I was in two minds about Linda.  What was she going to say if she found out what
mummy dear had made me do all afternoon?  I just couldn't bring myself to care
though.  I just seemed to feel a heavy, sleepy, feeling overcoming me.
Luxuriating in the feel of my new clothes, I was becoming more and more
reluctant to change - and anyway, Linda was not going to be home for an hour or
two.

But, as always, this estimate was totally wrong.  About five, the doorbell rang.
 "Get that sissy dear, would you?"  Mummy dear asked me.  I bobbed a quick
curtsey and went and opened the door - to find Linda standing there, grinning at
me.
"My!  Aren't we nice!"  She said, laughing.  "Whoooeee!  My husband, the maid!
Gonna curtsey for me?"
And without a seconds hesitation, I did exactly that.
She didn't seem too surprised at my appearance - or behavior.  Took a couple of
steps in through the door.  Closed it behind her.  Took a hold of my shoulder,
turned me around.

"Mmmmm.  Much prettier than I expected."  Here, she raised her voice a little
and called out "mom!  Rhonda!  You guys have done a helluva job!"  Then she
turned her attention back to me.
"Didn't know what I was gonna call you.  But it sticks out a mile.  You're a
Melissa!  A Melissa if ever I saw one.  Don't you agree?"
"A Melissa?"  I asked.
"Well, you're obviously not a Chris, are you?  Not even a Christine, I'd say.
Melissa sounds just about perfect.  So?  Melissa?  Why don't you just scurry
upstairs and run me a nice hot bath?  And?  While you're doing that?  Let me see
you wiggle your tush, just like a little french maid should, eh?  Why don't you
do that?"

And she absolutely roared when I replied "Oui mam'zelle", bobbed a quick curtsey
and swished upstairs, my petticoat flouncing around me as I did so.
I had just started running her bath when she arrived in the bedroom.
"Lots of nice bubbles for me now Melissa."  She said.
I complied by pouring in an extra handful of her favorite bubble bath.
"Good girl! Now come and help me undress."

I cut down the volume of the water running into the bath, then went back into
the bedroom.   She turned her back to me, so I unfastened all of the buttons at
the back of her blouse then moved around her to unfasten the cuffs of the
sleeves.  She was smiling at me.
"You're going to be just the best little maid.  Want to know how I can tell?"
"Yes ma'am."  I said softly.
"You're all soft and feminine.  Nice soft hands.  Submissive.  Just a natural.
Mom was right all along.  I'm really glad I listened to her."

As she was saying this, I had removed her blouse.  Then I unfastened the
waistband of her skirt and picked it up from the floor after she walked out of
it.  She then sat down and I took the hint and knelt and removed her shoes.  She
stood up again and motioned for me to pull her full length slip up over her
head.
"Better be careful of my undies from now on Melissa.  Being my personal maid
means you'll be washing and ironing them.  Making little sewing repairs too.
You want to do all that for me, don't you Melissa?  Wear cute little uniforms
like the one you've on.  Curtsey to me all the time?  Look after my clothes?
You do don't you?"
But she put a finger to my lips to stop me from answering.
"Of course you do!  Now just kneel down and loosen my garter belt - and roll my
stockings down - careful now!"

Totally servile now, I knelt in front of my wife who stood in front of me
wearing only bra and panties.  There was no doubt, she was all woman - but a
lithe, athletic, confident specimen.  In the mirror, I saw myself in my feminine
uniform, dainty apron and little lace cap, kneeling submissively, my soft white
arms and hands, slowly rolling the nylons down her muscled legs, my petticoats
forced up revealing my lace edged satin panties.  She was smiling down at me:
possessively, not unkindly.

I was just removing the last stocking from her foot when suddenly, she put both
her arms under my armpits and lifted me to my feet. Then started pushing me
backwards towards the bed.  Flustered, I  reacted by pushing back against her,
but immediately knew that she was too strong for me.  She knew it too. Smiled at
me, then forced me back onto the bed and straddled me.  Before I knew it, my
panties were down around my knees, my petticoats up in the air, and she was
fitting herself around my erection.  I started to spasm.
"Don't   you   dare  come!" She ordered.  "Wait until I give you permission."
"I don't know if I can help it."  I admitted weakly.
"You'd better!"  She warned.  "If you do?  I'll just put you over my knee and
give you a damn good spanking!"
I started to shudder.  Couldn't help it.  Felt my ejaculation begin.
"Shit!"  She said, jumping up from me.  "Now look at the mess you've made of
your undies Melissa!  Now go into the bathroom and wipe yourself off.  Then come
back here."
"I didn't mean to, Linda.  Honest.  I just couldn't stop."

She nodded understandingly.  "Yeah.  You've probably been sexed up all day.  I
should have thought of that.  Shouldn't have threatened to spank you.  That
probably was to much for you.  But I said I would, and I can't have you thinking
I won't carry out my threats.  So hurry up and get back here.  You can pull your
panties up."
Quickly I followed her instructions.  Rushed into the bathroom and used a
handful of tissues to wipe myself clean.  Then I pulled my panties back into
position, went back into the room where she sat at the edge of the bed waiting
for me.  Slowly, I went to her, then draped myself over her knees.

She didn't waste any time.  My dress hem and petticoats were lifted and I
received a hard slap on my panties.  It stung!
I started to cry about the sixth spank.  She gave me a couple more, then let me
get up.  "Ok Melissa.  You can go and take care of the bath now.  Once you're
finished there, you can look out some fresh undies for me, then lay out that red
two piece suit on the bed.  Check my red high heeled shoes and make sure there
are no scuff marks on them.  Get my red clutch handbag and change all the stuff
out of the purse I used today.  Then?  Go and wash your face!  I don't like to
see girls with their mascara all run."

As I finished topping off her bath, I did get a glimpse of my face in the
mirror, even though it was starting to steam up.  I looked bedraggled and weepy.
 Not attractive at all.  I hoped that Rhonda wasn't going to leave too early -
she could maybe help me freshen my makeup.  I did comb my hair and re-adjust my
cap to look a little more attractive.

Linda came in as I finished.  She had taken her bra and panties off and was
totally nude.  It was the first time I'd ever seen her that way, she'd always
struck me as being very shy in front of other people.  She seemed to read my
expression.  "I'll admit to being a little shy in front of men."  She told me.
"But you're my maid now.  Right?  And girls don't mind other girls seeing them
this way.  Here, help me into the bath."

I gave her a hand as she slowly entered the hot water.
"Very good Melissa.  You got the temperature just right. Mmmmmm.  You can go
look out the stuff I told you now.  There's a girl."
I gave her a pretty curtsey and started to leave the bathroom.
"Oh yes!  Come back in a half hour.  You can help me dress then."
I bobbed a short curtsey this time and hurried out into the bedroom to do her
bidding.  If I hurried, maybe Rhonda would help repair my makeup before I was
needed again.

I needn't have hurried.  Rhonda was taken aback at my weepy eyes and messed up
mascara, then realized the probable cause.
"Did something to piss Linda off, did we?"  She asked rhetorically.  "C'mon.
Let's get you repaired.  Is that what you want?"
I nodded shyly.  "Thought you might be gone.  Didn't want to try it myself."  I
admitted.
She shrugged.  "Nah.  I'm gonna stay the night.  But it's time you started doing
more of your own makeup.  But get that face washed first. Eh?"

Freshly made up - some of by my own hands, I reported back to Linda in plenty of
time.  I warmed up some nice fluffy towels for her, then dried her off after she
stepped out of the bath.  Then I powdered her.

It really felt strange, putting her bra on for her.
"Normally I'll do this myself."  She told me.  "But I wanted to see how it felt
having a maid fit my breasts into the cups.  Kinda nice.  Maybe I'll have you do
it again some time."  She said this as I fastened the little clasps at the back.
 Then I knelt down and opened her panties for her to step into.  Then she pulled
her own slip over her head.
"I'll do the rest Melissa.  But while I'm doing this, run down and get mom and
Rhonda.  Ask them to come up and talk to me, would you please?  You come with
them too."
I bobbed a quick curtsey and hurried downstairs to do her bidding.  When the
three of us got back, she had all of her underwear on and a lacy negligee.  She
was sitting at the dressing table facing into the mirror.
"Yo Rhonda!  Hi mom!.  Grab chairs.  Melissa?  Come and brush my hair please
while I talk to these ladies."  She held a hairbrush out to me.  Quickly I
started drawing the brush down through her long lustrous hair.
"Stand to one side girl!" She said briskly.  "Are you stupid!  I want to be able
to see these ladies while I talk to them."

Blushing at the rebuke I stepped aside and she twisted her body a little to aid
her view into the mirror.
"Got to admit it mom.  You were right all along.  He does make a darling little
maid - and submissive?  My!  The little darling just falls on his - gotta stop
that! - Her back with just the slightest shove.  And Rhonda?  You've done a
really great job.  I mean, I couldn't believe it when I came home - she's so
pretty!  So here's what I'm going to do.  Melissa?"
"Yes ma'am"  I said.

"I'm going out for a little while tonight.  I'm going to bring a lady friend
home for a stay with us.  Her name is Joanne and I'll expect you to be extremely
interested in looking after her.  Understand?"
"Oh yes ma'am.  But where will she be sleeping?"
"Here.  In this room.  Where do you think?"
"But .. But  ...?"
"But what!"
"Begging your pardon ma'am...?"

"Oh."  She interrupted.  "You want to know where you're going to sleep?  Is that
it?"
I nodded.
"Guess mom never told you.  You'll be sleeping in the maid's room from now on."
"The.. The.. Maids .. Room?"  I stammered.
"The room where you did all your changes today.  Where all your pretty clothes
are."   Mummy dear broke in.  "Then she added.  "You do like it, yes? I mean I
went to a lot of trouble to make it all nice and feminine for you."
"But my real clothes?"  I asked of no one in particular.
"The ones in that closet in that room are your real ones now." Linda said
sharply - also your uniforms."
"Uni...?"  I started.
"Your maid's uniforms!  Now say 'thank you to mom for going to all that trouble
to decorate it for you."

I was finding it difficult to breathe.  I could actually feel my breasts rise
and fall as I tried hard to control myself.  I did manage to squeeze out a
gargled "Thank you mummy dear.  It's very nice.  Thank you."  Then I turned my
next question to Linda again.
"I've to be a maid?"
"Well - at least some of the time."  She answered, giving my hopes a little
boost.  But then she dashed them completely.
"I suppose I'd may as well fill you in."  Linda said, a little reluctantly.  "So
just stand there like a good girl and brush my hair - I'll tell you all you need
to know.  But not one peep out of you.  Understand?"
I nodded and went back to working on her hair.

"See?"  She started.  "Mom and me - well we've both always liked kinda feminine
men.  Mom because she likes to screw them - make them into little girly-boys.
Now I actually prefer my sex with girls, but like to, sometimes, have a man
handy - if they're nice and obedient, they're better than a vibrator."  I heard
the other women laugh at this.

She looked at me in the mirror.  "So here's the deal.  When I'm home?  You're my
little personal maid.  When I'm not?  Then you'll be mom's assistant.  Help her
with her sewing.  Do the housework of course.  She might even let you out of
wearing a maid's uniform - but that's between you and her."
"But what about my job?"  I asked.
"Aren't you listening?"  She barked.  "I've just described your job.  You belong
to this house.  You'll be a maid for me and any young lovelies I bring home -
and a companion for mom - and if it so happens that Rhonda needs help at her
shop?  Why, you'll help there as well - be her shampoo girl, or whatever."

“Why are you being so cruel Linda?”  I asked.
She shook her head.   “Dear?  If you’d been more of a man?  I’d have backed you.
 I mean, I kept trying to tell you to stand up for yourself.  But you didn’t,
did you.  You’ve let yourself be converted into something that’s just going to
be too handy for us three ladies.  I’m sorry, but you made your own choices
here.  Don’t blame us.  Don’t even think of that!”

I kept on brushing her hair as if I was a robot, my mind close to bursting.  I
couldn’t see any flaw in what she had said.
Then Mummy dear spoke to Linda.  "You and Joanne going to be gone most of the
day tomorrow?"
"Yes mom.  Why?  Linda responded.
"Why?  I was just thinking of how cute Melissa looked in his – her - wedding
gown this afternoon.  Rhonda's agreed to stay overnight to make him real pretty
again tomorrow."
"You're having another show tomorrow?"  I blurted.
Mummy dear laughed.  "Oh no Melissa.  This is just a sort of private show - just
for me.  After Rhonda goes off to work?  Why me and Melissa  will have our own
little ceremony - and before Linda gets home with her girlfriend?  Why Melissa
will have been my little bride for real.”  She turned to me.  “ Won't that be
fun, eh?"