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Chapter 6 Mommy ReturnsChapter 6Mommy ReturnsSo much had happened in the last few days. My wife’s best friend hadconfided in me that my wife of five years, Heidi, was three monthspregnant with her lover’s baby and was planning on serving me withdivorce papers when she returns from holiday next week. That same woman,who just happened to be my doctor and was the person who had administeredmy three year course of oestrogen treatment, had now declared herinterest in me, not so much as a prospective spouse but as a benevolentowner who was soon to reap the coming rewards from my upcoming career. Inblunt terms, my new vocation was going to be prostitution, of thekinkiest sort, under the tutelage of a rather evil, but strikinglyhandsome and well endowed, underworld figure or, to use an even blunterterm, an upmarket pimp. We had ‘run into’ Derek whilst we were havingcoffee in a bistro in Notting Hill, although, knowing Helen, theaccidental meeting was anything but an accident. My seduction this pastSaturday was almost far too perfect to have been left to chance. Helenknew all the right buttons to push in my mind to get me on my hands andknees and virtually beg Derek to take away my virginity. And he did itwith relish, knowing that I would be hard pressed to ever find a man whowould dominate me like him. That’s what pimps have been doing forcenturies and it’s why they can build up a stable of naive girls who willfuck any punter that comes along and willingly hand over their cash to aman who knowingly holds them in contempt.Why am I so drawn to Helen? The answer is almost too complex to go intobut it helps that she is beautiful, elegant and intelligent enough toknow how to transform a heterosexual man into a full blown sissy and thenmanipulate that man into doing whatever she wishes. I can’t help but bedrawn to her. She knows that the shame I feel and the humiliation Iexperience when I look in the mirror and see an almost perfect facsimileof a very attractive petite young woman with blonde hair almost to hershoulders, a slim body and, what Helen describes, as legs to die for. Ididn’t seek this future out. I can’t blame my wife Heidi for it. I knewwhen I married her that she was a slut and would never be faithful to me.I was the one who let himself be led into Helen’s surgery, like a dog ona leash, and given the first shot of the d**g that would chemicallycastrate me and I watched as she filled up the first hypodermic needlewith a massive shot of oestrogen that would begin the process offeminising me. I did it almost in a daze. I was trying to rid myself ofthe jealousy I felt every time my wife came home in the morning with thatjust fucked look in her eyes and it worked a charm. It worked so wellthat I no longer have to take the chemicals that once castrated me but Ilive for the Friday mornings when I lower my panties and Helen sticksthat needle in me and pumps me full of the hormones that give me the samehot flashes that older women experience in menopause.Each rush of the feminine hormones makes me even more submissive. Helenknew that on Saturday I would be putty in her hands. I even told her theone great secret in my life that I had never confided in anyone before.Now Helen knew that when I as 13 years old I secretly spied my mothercuckolding my father with my well endowed uncle and shortly, on that veryafternoon, I was undressed and led to bed by that same woman and actuallybegged her to let me go down and taste her juices and my uncle’s semenand that we continued that relationship until I was 25. My mother and Ieventually had full sex together but on every afternoon she wasunfaithful to my father she knew I longed to taste her and, over time, itjust became the most natural thing for me to come home from school, takemy clothes off and join her in bed where I would lower my head and lickthe residue of her lovers and taste her moist pussy. I became adept atbringing my mother to one powerful orgasm after the next.Helen also knows that when I was 18, after my father died, my motherwould playfully dress me in her clothes every day. It helped that we wereboth petite and slim and actually had the same shoe size. I only woremen’s clothes outside the house. When we would dine together we woulddress in skirts and heels and she carefully taught me how to be feminine.My long hair was kept back in a ponytail and I was taught me the art ofskilfully applying makeup. Even though we had a very active sex lifetogether I inherited the same masculine equipment as my father and someof his effeminate traits and could never provide her with the rough sexshe craved from my uncles. I had to acknowledge from a very young agethat there were better men than me who inherently knew how to satisfy thecravings of a woman like my mother.After I had revealed my dark secret to Helen she made me call mother upat her home in Sydney and ask her to visit and to take care of me aftermy breast implant operation whilst Helen and Heidi were off in Ibiza fora week enjoying the sun and the inevitable sex with dark and handsomemen. My mother was arriving with the full knowledge that I had beenfeminised by Helen and now could no longer even lay a claim to being kaçak iddaa aman. The best way I can think of to describe myself is as a sissy and, tobe honest, I am a far better sissy than I ever was a man. I am the sortof sissy that gets straight men off. I know that and the attention that Iget sometimes overwhelms me. I am totally passable and, after the hormonetreatment shrunk my penis to less than an inch and made it incapable ofever getting hard again, I can tuck my tiny testicles up inside me andexcept for a very slight bulge in my panties, straight men never thinkthey are looking at anything less than a real woman when they see me. Ihave a feeling that when I begin my work as a prostitute the superioritythey will feel when they pull their stiff cocks out and compare them tomy little soft sissy penis will only make them feel more dominant andmasculine. I don’t think fucking a sissy girl is a homosexual act and Ithink most straight men agree.As I sit in the recovery chair after my operation, with my new breastsaching, bruised and sensitive I can at least take comfort in the factthat my body transformation is complete. On Sunday the back of my neck,which is normally covered by my blonde hair, was tattooed discretely intiny script declaring that I am the ‘Property of Helen Duprey’. Thattattoo fortunately went unnoticed by my wife and, as she is leaving me tomarry her lover soon, I doubt that she will ever know it exists. Motherand I are going to stay at my home until Helen returns and then I ammoving in with her and mother will linger for a few weeks in my placebefore she returns to Sydney. Derek expects me to start work at theupscale brothel he owns in Mayfair that very same week and the surgeonwho did his work on my breasts told me I should be able to have a fairlyactive life in seven days although there will be some tenderness and Ishould not let my clients play with them roughly. He was paid for byDerek so he knows that I will be his first sissy to work for him and hemade sure that my breasts look as womanly as possible. I wish I couldtouch them but they are safely and firmly held in a surgical bra, which Iwill have to wear for five days. My new bra size is a 34B. I didn’t wantbig tits. I wanted breasts to match my slim and petite figure.Thankfully I never had to get butt implants. As my mother always told me,my butt is far more feminine and firm that most women’s are. My waist istiny in comparison and, now with my new breasts, my figure should be nearperfect. I have always had tiny feet for a man and my hands lookperfectly feminine. My Adam’s apple was lopped off two years ago, so anytelltale signs of masculinity have been erased, except for that one tinydetail that Helen says I should never touch. She wants me to keep mylittle prick and testicles to remind me of the man I once was. She findsit deeply erotic that she changed me from who I was to who I am today andshe actually gets turned on by seeing the physical results of the hormonetreatment she has administered to me over the years. She will sometimesflick it or delicately hold it between her thumb and index finger and, asshe does, I can see her flush with excitement.My prick is sensitive to the touch and I love it when she does that tome, but I don’t think it will ever get hard again. I know it will neverregain the four inches that it has lost in the last three years and mytesticles will forever remain tiny and shrunken. That’s not to say that Ihave no erotic thoughts. I find my complete submission to Helen eroticand I love the feeling of deep humiliation I get when I compare myself toa normal heterosexual man. I have never harboured homosexual urges butwhat I find deeply appealing is the power exchange I feel when I kneeldown or bend over and allow a real man to take pleasure from me. Derekwas the first man to do that to me and it only happened about two daysago but I knew from the moment I took his large prick in my mouth and hethrust deeply in my ass and shot his cum inside me that my destiny was togive pleasure to men. When my surgeon took me into his office for aprivate consultation when I arrived at the clinic in the morning it feltperfectly natural and right to kneel in front of his open legs, to undohis trousers and to take him in my mouth and bring him to a strongclimax.One of the things I grasped immediately about the difference between howheterosexual men treat sissies, as opposed to real women, was the utterdisregard they felt for them once they had used them for their privatepleasure. It was a conflicting experience for them; a sexual kink theyonly sought out on an irregular basis and when they had spent their seedthey were done. There was no subsequent tenderness afterwards, only anurge to put what had just occurred out of their memory and not toconfront the fact that they had just had sex with someone who wasgenetically in the same gender as them. In reality, which became apparentto them just after their orgasm, they had committed a homosexual actwhilst their whole persona totally conflicted with that. Real men don’tbrag to their friends about nailing a sissy, but they will boast aboutbedding a real woman or even paying kaçak bahis to have sex with a common whore. Theywill even say tender things to a prostitute after they have paid her tosuck them off in a back alley but once they have violated and used asissy, they tuck their cocks back in their pants and they are off withoutso much as a post coital acknowledgement.The doctor whose cock I had just lovingly sucked could barely look at meafter he had cum in my mouth and I had sucked his prick dry, but thatsuited me perfectly. The shame I felt when I saw his superior sneer as helooked down at me while I was still on my knees in front of him with hissemen s**ttered on my face and in my hair made me blush with shame but,at the same time, answered a deep submissive need in me which was firstprobably instilled in my psyche when I first begged my mother to let metaste the mixture of her juices and my uncle’s thick semen which was theresidue of their violent coupling. I remember her shocked look when Iasked her to let me go down on her just 15 minutes after I had witnessedher making love to my father’s brother and I remembered her understandingsmile when I finally came up to kiss her with my lips covered with themixture of love juices. It was not just that one experience that made mecrave submission. Our relationship took a real twist once she began tounderstand what I craved. Every morning she would grab a glass before shewent to the toilet and released the pressure from her bladder. The firsttaste of her pee in the day was always reserved for me and it was often aheady mix of semen and urine which I drank eagerly. She did that at myrequest.I saved up the money and bought the riding crop that I often begged herto use on me. The first time she whipped me she was uncomfortable but sheeventually began to enjoy the sound of the smack of the crop on my ass,my jerking body as the pain transmitted to my brain and the residue ofredness she would leave after a heavy session of punishment. She learnedto love the erotic pleasure of it and would be wet when she finished aheady session which left me throbbing with pain. Then she needed to makelove to me and had violent orgasms when I went down on her.I begged her to let me lick her clean after she had emptied her bowelslater in the day. The first time she acquiesced to that request was ashock to her and she felt uncomfortable with me licking her soiled assclean but it eventually became a daily ritual which she enjoyed. Nolonger was it necessary to use the toilet roll. My tongue did a muchbetter job. I longed to taste every part of her and when she realisedwhat joy that gave me she willingly obliged every submissive quirk I hadand began to revel in the erotic power she had over me. She began toteach me how to become feminine, how to dress like a girl and how to makemy young face into a palate that, with the right application of makeup,could be made into a facsimile of a young girl.Thereafter I became not only her occasional lover, but her willingservant. I took over all the household chores and personally took care ofevery need she had. When I was at home with her alone I dressed as agirl. I cooked the meals, cleaned up afterwards and made sure that ourhouse was spotless. I hand washed all her lingerie and changed the sheetson her bed after her lovers had soiled them. I listened as she told mehow my two uncles were far more endowed than me and knew how to satisfyher better than I could or my late father ever did. She ingrained in methe sense that there were far better men in the world than me for womenlike her which eventually made me readily accept my role as a submissivecuckold in my marriage to Heidi. My mother shaped me into the person whowillingly gave up his manhood and allowed himself to become the sissy Inow am, surrendering whatever rights I had as a man and willinglybecoming the property of my new owner, Helen. My mother knew that myfrequent blushes of shame reflected a need to surrender myself to someonesuperior to me and the fact that I now was the property of a woman threeinches taller than myself and who I felt almost in awe of was theultimate culmination of my fate.There was a power paradigm that went through my relationship with mymother. My total and complete submission to her became her liberation asa woman. She became more confident in herself and didn’t judge herselfsolely by what her lovers thought of her. She grew tired of my uncles andsought out men that would bend to her will and devote themselves to herhappiness. Her current husband is the polar opposite of my father and hisbrothers. He is phenomenally wealthy, younger than she is by a decade andsolely committed to her happiness, allowing her to have her sexualfreedom whilst he is bound only to her. My mother made me who I am and Imade her who she is. The liberation of a woman requires the totalsurrender of a man. I sacrificed my manhood willingly so she could becomethe independent, confident and wonderfully wicked woman she is today. NowI am going to become a kinky sissy prostitute, satisfying the whims ofreal men for the financial rewards Helen will reap. I have freely givenmyself to both women güvenilir bahis in my life with my eyes wide open and now there isphysical evidence of my submission in the statement of ownership that istattooed on the back of my neck.It was 3:00 pm when my mother finally arrived at the clinic in Kensingtonto pick me up. She had arrived on a morning flight but had to clearimmigration and customs at Heathrow, drop her luggage off at my house andthen take a taxi to get me. At 55 she still looks like the beautifulwoman who raised me. There are some lines around her eyes but she isslim, tanned and stunning enough to pull off an over the knee skirt and ablouse unbuttoned low enough to see the top of her firm breasts. Wekissed, not like mother and son, but like former lovers, which seemed toshock the nurses. When I finally stood up, she was momentarily takenaback as she studied me from top to toe.”You look like a beautiful young woman,” she exclaimed. “I should haveput you on hormones when you were a teenage boy, although then wewouldn’t have been able to do what we used to do.””Thank you,” I said with a smile, still a bit groggy from theanaesthetics I was given before the operation. “I don’t feel so hot nowbut in a few days I will be up on my feet and will be able to take careof you instead of you taking care of me.”As we left the clinic and walked outside to the waiting taxi I clung onto my mother’s arm in order to steady myself, silently cursing myself forwearing heels, and let her open the door to let me in. When she got inthrough the other door and slid next to me she grabbed my hand as we tookthe short ride back to my house in Notting Hill. She glanced down at thehem of my short blue dress and saw my stocking tops which were held up bya feminine suspender belt. She gave me a devilish smile as she lifted myhem slightly to expose my creamy white thighs.”Are we going for the full on slut look?” she asked teasingly. “Whathappened to the sweet little boy who would secretly wear my tights andknickers under his school uniform?””The boy in me is a distant memory,” I said with a laugh. “But you arestill the sexy knockout you were when I was a teenager. If I could gethard now I would love to take you right to bed.””Your voice has changed so much,” she said as she played with my hand.”When I look at you and hear you speak you sound like you were born awoman. I have to confess that I can’t wait to see what your little cockand balls look like now, if you still have them.””They’re still there,” I said, blushing at the humiliation I felt everytime I looked in the mirror and saw my shrunken cock and balls. “I feelashamed when I look at them but Helen insists that I keep them.””I agree with her entirely,” she said, looking at me in the face. “Assoon as we get back to your house I want to see what remains of yourmanhood. I want to touch the little prick that used to be inside me and Iwant to hold the testicles that once produced the love juice that filledmy pussy.””You are still the naughtiest woman I ever met,” I said with a giggle.”Most mothers would want to make their sons chicken soup after what Ihave been through and you want to play with my useless cock.””Most mothers don’t have sons that are sissies,” she replied with a laughas she opened her rather large handbag to show me what she had brought upfrom Australia for me. “And most mothers wouldn’t be looking forward tousing this on their sons.”As I stared at the long black dildo in my mother’s bag I could feel awave of erotic energy rush through me and I realised that, at last, thetables had turned in our relationship and my mother would be the onefucking me in the future. When we arrived at my house and my motherreached into her purse to pay the taxi driver, I gently let myself out ofthe cab and made the short walk to the front door. When we finally madeourselves into the living room I collapsed on the sofa and my mother satnext to me and held my hand. She then went to the kitchen to make us tea.When she came back and handed me my cup, the first sip began to revive mea bit. We sat in silence for a while before my mother began to getcurious and lifted the hem of my dress up to reveal my panties. Shecouldn’t help herself as she pushed them aside to examine my little prickand balls. I could see a smile slowly spread on her face.”My God,” she exclaimed as she broke out in a laugh. “Helen is absolutelyright. Your prick is the cutest little thing I have seen in life and yourtiny balls are adorable. To think this was once what was inside me isjust amazing. I love it more now than I ever did when I was younger andit suits you perfectly.””Look, it’s leaking too without even getting hard,” she added as shecontinued to hold it lightly in her fingers, touching the sissy creamwith her index finger and holding it up to examine it. “I know what youwant me to do with this.”She slowly lifted her finger to my mouth and watched as my tongue lickedit clean and then she touched the head of my prick again and took theleaking semen and rubbed it on my lips.”We are going to have such fun while I am here,” my mother said with asmile of joy on her face. “Right now I really need to pee. I hope youleft a glass near the toilet for my golden nectar. I want you to get usedto having me inside you again.””I don’t think of as a glass anymore, mother,” I replied. “In my mindit’s a chalice. I wouldn’t want a drop of it to go to waste.”

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