Prissy Poodle 2

By: Throne

Sunday morning I awoke to find Regina setting up a dog crate at the foot of
the bed.  She also had a bag from the pet store, which was sitting on her
vanity chair.  I got off my dog bed but stayed on all fours without being
told to.  She muttered a distracted 'good girl' while finishing the set-up
of the cage.  Then she spread a blanket across its floor and pointed at the
open door.  "Come on, good girl.  Go into your cage and Mommy will give you
some nice touching."  I didn't speak because I knew she disapproved of
that.  The promise of being touched by my wife's talented hands was
irresistible.  I ducked my head as I entered the portable kennel and then
turned to roll onto my side so she could reach my chest.  But then her cell
phone rang.  Regina slammed the door and locked it.  I whimpered with
disappointment.  She picked up the bag from her chair and sat there,
wearing just panties and a top that barely covered her full bust.  I ogled
her hungrily and my tongue lolled out of my mouth.

"Curt," she said cheerfully. "Are we still on for tonight?  What, my good
girl?  Well, she's still getting used to some changes I've made, so I
thought we might stay here tonight.  Have an evening in," she added, with
promising warmth.  I was horrified but did nothing.  All I could think
about was that chastity and my desperate need.  The phone chat went on for
half an hour, with my wife complimenting Curt's good looks and implying
that she knew he was well endowed.  Jealousy overwhelmed me but I was still
in the grip of my wife's new control.  When she was finally done she
crouched down alongside my crate, giving me another stirring view of her.
Then she reached between the bars and cupped my balls in her hand.  Any
thoughts of protest that had been germinating in my mind were instantly
gone.  I pushed back toward her and made wordless sounds of appreciation.
She gave me a familiar 'good girl' and then said, "But we really need a
proper name for you.  You know, something like Fifi or Poupon.  Do you like
either of those?"  Her face turned stern as she went on, "And a good girl
doesn't try to talk.  A good girl barks when she wants her Mommy to
listen."  So I barked.  I didn't want Regina to withdraw her hand.  She
asked me, "Would you like to be called Fifi?  Poupon?  No?  How about
Mimi?"  As she said the last name she tickled the base of my binky, just
below the chastity, and I barked.  "Awww, she wants to be called Mimi.  How
cute.  I bet Curt will like that name."

My wife decided that she wanted me to be perfect for when Curt arrived.
"After all," she pointed out, "if he's not happy with you I might have to
lock you in the garage.  Mimi wouldn't want that, would she?"  I made a sad
sound.  She had me communicating with a made-up canine vocabulary.  To get
me ready she made me follow her to the bathroom and climb into the tub.
Then Regina washed me all over, again raising my sexual temperature.  She
dried me with a huge towel and I followed her back to the bedroom.  Looking
me over, she said, "I really want you to have that narrow poodle waist, so
let's try something I ordered on-line."  She reached into the bottom drawer
of her dresser and came out with... a corset?  Oh no.  I wanted to object
but my puppy whimper didn't dissuade her.  "I'm doing this for your own
good, Mimi.  Now lie on your back I can put it on you."  She worked it up
my legs and got it around my middle.  Then she commanded, "Roll over" and
had me get back on all fours so she could begin tightening it.  Regina
didn't stop until it was as snug as she could get it.  I felt like I was
being cut in half but when I dared to speak, getting as far as, "But
honey..." she smacked my nose and hushed me.  I understood.  Speaking would
cost me punishment.

Then she had me sit up, not the most comfortable posture with my waist so
compressed, and began to apply make-up, explaining, "I want you to look
like a real prissy sissy poodle, Mimi.  We wouldn't want Curt to feel
threatened by you, now would we?  I made a wuff noise and nodded agreement,
even though I couldn't see how any real man could be scared by me in my
current state.  My wife worked happily, applying cosmetics to my cheeks,
eyes and lips.  Then she produced a pair of oversized false eyelashes and
put them on me.  She had me walk around on hands and knees, telling me to
put a bit of sashay in my hips.  She wanted my presentation to be perfect.
I meekly complied and, after a few tips from her, had everything the way
she wanted it.  Then she opened the closet door to reveal the full length
mirror on its inside.  Looking at the bottom portion of the reflecting
surface, I was horrified to see my image.  Not only was I hairless and
pink-skinned, but with my squeezed midriff, poodle hairstyle, and made over
face, I resembled a cartoon dog.  It was six kinds of humiliating.  After
the initial shock it struck me that Curt was going to see me that way.  I
wanted to crawl away and hide, which I guess was a typical canine reaction.

All too soon our doorbell rang.  My bride surprised me with a pink dog
leash and collar, the latter studded with rhinestones.  She fastened the
collar around my neck and led me toward to the living room.  When she
opened the front door I looked up at Curt, a handsome man in an expensive
suit and overcoat.  He had a full mustache and, despite being neatly
shaved, a hint of beard shadow that suggested how hirsute he was.  He
peered at me for several seconds and then burst out laughing.  I cringed.
I panted nervously.  My wife gave him a warm hug and he returned it with
enthusiasm.  Then she moved her face closer to his and he kissed her, at
first lightly but then, when she rubbed her heavy bust against his broad
chest, with mounting ardor.  All I could do was wait for them to finish,
like the obedient dog I had become.  He draped his coat over the back of a
chair.  My wife led me into the den where she had placed a small oval rug
for me to curl up on.  When she pointed me to it I went and made myself
inconspicuous, or as much so as I could.  The two of them sat on the couch
and chatted.  She suggested ordering Thai take-out and having it delivered.
Curt said that would be fine but because it might be spicy they shouldn't
give any to the dog.  Me.  My wife mentioned that my name was Mimi, which
produced fresh laughter from her date.

The two of them kissed a few more times and began to fondle each other.  I
writhed inside at the sight of my wife encouraging him to paw her as she
did the same to him.  I got a break when they ordered the food, waited for
it, paid, and went to the dining room with the large bag.  I was unhappy to
see that my wife had gotten me two bowls, for water and food.  She said,
"Thirsty, Mimi?  Go ahead.  Take a drink, baby."  With my cheeks hot pink,
I went and lapped up some water.  She snickered and Curt chuckled.  The
corset hurt.  As they sat, Curt said, "I almost forgot.  I bought a chew
toy for Mimi."  He went to his overcoat and returned with a long thick,
flesh-colored dildo, which he held out to me.  In total shame I slunk over
to him and took it between my teeth.  When I was back on my rug I
reluctantly licked and chewed it.  Of course it wasn't made for being
bitten, so I was careful not to leave any marks on it.  My wife thought his
gift was hilariously funny and said so.  He told her he had just gotten an
idea for something even better, that he thought he could have made for me,
but that he would wait and make it a surprise.  Then, as I lay there,
exposed, demeaned, and still mouthing that awful dildo, they relaxed and
enjoyed their meal.

Afterwards they watched some TV.  At one point my wife put on a show about
pets and made me watch along with them while dogs were taught tricks.  She
was inspired to have me sit up, lie down, roll over, beg and bark.  Then
they watched an episode of a reality show about cheating spouses.  Of
course, this episode had to be about a wife's infidelity.  I couldn't miss
the appropriateness of it as she snuggled against Curt and her hand drifted
to his crotch.  Soon she had him unzipped and was working free his cock.
Just my luck, he was hung like a bull.  I shuddered as she kissed and
licked his impressive organ.  Then they mutually decided it was time to
move to the bedroom.  She took my leash and led me to the crate to lock me
inside.  I cowered there while they undressed each other in front of me.
Then they got onto the mattress and my view became limited.  But I had no
trouble hearing them as they talked dirty to each other and she kept
complimenting him on his magnum cock.  The foreplay went on and on but
eventually they proceeded to the main act.  She got on top -- maybe so I
could see more? -- and rode him happily.  Then she laid on her back and he
made love to her expertly, lasting much longer than I had ever been able
to.  I remained in my cage, my penis in its own prison, while he
experienced the privileges now denied to me.

They climaxed together.  It was sheer torture for me to listen to them.
And then they rested.  After a while my wife got up and unlocked my crate.
She snapped her fingers and gestured for me to come out.  Regina sat on the
side of the bed and put her feet well apart, giving me a view of her parted
pussy lips and the mess of spunk between them.  She told me, "Look what
Mommy has for Mimi.  A yummy treat.  Doesn't puppy want to lick up all this
nice tasty cream?  Hmmmm?"  I was revolted by the idea of lapping another
man's cum from her body, but by then I was so broken in spirit and, I'll
admit, desperate for any form of sexual contact, that I went straight to
her and began to lick.  Curt sat alongside her and grinned at the spectacle
I was making of myself.  They kissed passionately as I continued to clean
up the thick salty deposit.  He handled her breasts and she rubbed his
balls.  I blinked and was aware of the picture it made, with those absurd
eyelashes.  At long last my wife had a mild orgasm from being tongued so
much and, after I licked her through a long afterglow, declared me to be
done.

In the weeks that followed she kept me in my Mimi role.  Curt visited
often.  The other gift he had thought of turned out to be a tail for me.
It consisted of a dildo that got shoved up my butt, its head big enough
that it wouldn't come out unless someone tugged on it.  There was a poodle
puff of hair on its outside end.  The body of it was a spring, so it swayed
and 'wagged' all the time. The lovers regularly played out variations of
the first night's scenario.  Regina would exaggerate my cosmetics even more
to amuse her lover.  She had me lick her before sex to get her ready for
him.  I was always kept bowed and beribboned, as feminine as she could make
me.  My male ego dwindled to almost nothing.  I was half mad from lack of
sex.  Then, one afternoon, she made me an offer.  Regina would take me out
of chastity for an hour if I would sign some documents that Curt had
prepared, so that she could handle our finances without having to consult
me about anything.  "After all," she pointed out, "I'd feel pretty silly
talking to a French poodle about my money.  I softly made a bark of
agreement.  As I signed the papers I could see that I was forfeiting any
and all claims to our assets.  But I was in such a state that I didn't
challenge her.  When they were all done she had me get on my rug in the
den.  Then, I was unhappy to see, she produced a pair of handcuffs.  Regina
snapped an order at me to put my 'front paws' behind my back.  I sat up on
my knees and did as I was told.  When the cuffs were on she went and got
the key to my chastity from its hiding place.

"Now you're free, Mimi," she congratulated.  "What would you like to do?"
I didn't want to upset her and cause trouble, but I needed to convey that I
had thought I was going to be allowed an orgasm in exchange for all the
wealth and property I had just transferred to her.  I made small sounds
that I hoped would send my message.  She looked at my girlish face with
feigned incomprehension.  I pointed my chin toward my crotch.  In
desperation, I humped my hips, which cost me discomfort because I was in
one of my growing collection of corsets, a lacy red one, and it was the
tightest yet.  Regina let me humiliate myself some more before she at last
said, "Oh, I see.  Mimi wants to have doggy sex.  Is that right?"  I gave
her my best bark of agreement.  "Well," she said musingly, "how can we do
that?  I don't want you rubbing up against anything in the house.  I know.
Let's take Mimi into the yard."  I protested with my eyes but she just got
a leash, a black and yellow striped one, and clipped it to that day's
decorative collar.  I followed her on my knees, to the sliding glass doors
and into he yard.  "How about if Mimi plays her naughty game with that big
rock at the edge of the garden?  Is that where Mimi wants to rub her
binky?"

The idea was disgraceful but I hadn't had relief in too many weeks.  I went
to the jutting rock and mounted it, then began mock intercourse, telling
myself that it would be worth it to ejaculate.  My corset pinched and the
rough stone scraped at my tender member but I refused to quit.  Several
times I brought myself to the edge but I couldn't get past that point.
Then I felt my orgasm approaching.  It was getting closer and closer.  I
looked at the woods that faced me, making sure no one was strolling there
and would see me in my moment of supreme shame.  Then, just as I was about
to cum, I heard a voice behind me.  "What IS that doggie doing?" Curt asked
in an amused tone.  I froze.  My erection wilted and my penis shrank to its
smallest dimensions which, in my case, are very small.  The two of them
embraced and kissed, their hands running all over each other.  I could only
back away from the rock and whimper.  Regina laughed at my plight and
showed me the chastity tube, saying, "Time to put this back on, Mimi.  I
hope my little sissy poodle didn't hurt her binky too much."  As she locked
up my binky I felt a final weight of defeat settle over me.  But there was
still more, and worse, to come.

She went and poured them each a glass of white wine.  They sat on wrought
iron chairs with soft cushions on their seats and backs.  How long had it
been since I had been on a chair?  I wasn't allowed on the furniture. My
wife was so lovely, so incredibly sexy, but I knew her body wasn't for me
and never would be again.  Curt told her, "Remember that piece of property
you gave me the deed to, so I could make inquiries?  Well, I took it to an
investor friend and pointed out to him the potential of the neighborhood
it's in.  The entire area around it is already being developed.  He wants
to buy it and here's the figure he's willing to pay."  He showed her a slip
of paper and her eyes went wide.  She said, "With that much money I would
never need any other income."  He said meaningfully, "Yes, so if there was
anyone here with a job, you could call their company and put in for an
early retirement.  Not that you'd need more money after this sale, but a
partial pension couldn't hurt."  She told him, "How convenient that a
certain retirement package was put into my name recently when I had some
papers signed."  I was devastated.  My wife would be wealthy and I would
have nothing.  I had lost my manhood and every penny I had owned.  The
house and cars were in her name.  She could throw me out and leave me with
nothing.  Regina must have read my mind because she said, pointedly, "It
will be a new life for me... and my Mimi.  Of course I'll keep her, so long
as she behaves perfectly.  I wouldn't want to have to place her with
someone who might mistreat her.  And I don't want to have to have her
fixed.  But I'm sure she won't give me any reason to do anything like
that."

The next week, after the sale of that property went through, Curt gave me
another gift.  This time it was 'paws' that bent my feet forward
uncomfortably and rendered my hands useless.  He and my wife took me for a
long walk through the woods, without a leash, telling me to sniff anything
I found interesting and rub up against trees if I had an itch.  I did both
those things to stay in character and with the hope that demeaning myself
might earn me some small rewards.  We heard voices of several guys who
sounded rather effeminate.  I hoped desperately that they wouldn't come in
our direction.  The idea of them seeing me was nerve wracking.  Luckily we
missed them but Regina said they sounded like some fellows who shared a
house nearby.  Curt suggested she should invite them over sometime.  I
didn't know if he was serious.  After that I wore the paws for part of
every day, usually with my tail.  The possibility of having those guys
visit remained a possibility.

It has been six months since that afternoon in the back yard.  Regina and
Curt like to go out a lot.  They have several dog sitters who take care of
me when they're gone.  There's a big Swedish woman named Helga who is harsh
with me.  She likes to swat my bare bottom with a rolled up newspaper.  She
has taught me a new walk, which is even more swishy.  She takes me for
strolls on a sandy path that runs through the woods and I'm always scared
that someone will spot me.  There have been several near exposures.  Then
there's a gay man, Jimmi, who sits me and fusses with my hair and make-up.
He also loves to give me baths and gets much too free with his hands.  The
worst is Tyra, who is a pre-op transsexual.  She brought a bra with her
that gathers and pushes up the softness of my chest, making it appear that
I have tiny breasts.  Then she put a fake pussy over my chastity and glued
it in place.  She even sold Regina on the idea of leaving it there, so that
now I look more female than male.  My hairless, rosy body is always on
display and I'm never allowed to escape my Mimi identity.  Curt never
ceases to be entertained by my hopeless situation.  I think the idea of me,
Regina's husband, being so conquered, gives him a sexual kick.  And I know
that keeping me this way gets my wife aroused and makes her bed time with
Curt better.  Plus, she can't get enough of my licking before and, worst
for me, after.

So that's it.  I'm a smooth-skinned, super-feminine, prissy poodle.  I'm
horny all the time and my wife still goes out of her way to tease me with
her curvaceous body.  And every time I dare to imagine that my life has
gotten as awful as it possibly can, they dream up something else to make it
even worse.  What frightens me the most is that I'm getting addicted to it
all and, eventually, might come to crave what I now despise.  Imagine
becoming a total sissy poodle with no chance of ever returning to your male
identity.  And loving it.