I Enjoy Forced Feminization Stories
This story carries on after the male character, me, had returned home drunk again.
As I stirred I tried to recall the night before. I was drunk, really drunk. My behaviour was terrible and my wife had been furious, so furious she punished me. I can certainly remember that as my punishment had been to be forced into wearing my wife's clothes! 'I had to understand her more', she said. I laughed to myself as I remembered how this silly game involved me drunkenly trying to wear her black pencil skirt, and white tailored blouse. But the game became more serious. She found it funny at first and so did I. But she seemed to become more intent in 'changing me for the better' when seeing me in her clothes. I now felt a fear come over me as light flashes of episodes from the night before entered my consciousness. I looked around me and saw the lace trim of a little pink silk camisole lying on the floor to my left. My mind raced and I now could distinctly see me staggering around our bedroom in that camisole and a black lace balcony bra with matching knickers. They too were now visible, strewn across the floor lying in a heap along with my dignity. For I am a proud man, a mans man they say, not weak and certainly not a sissy. 'It is that kind of male chauvinist attitude that gets me into trouble' she said. For sure I would be the first to admit that and I need to change, but not as much as I had to last night. I did not want to wear those clothes but I did so, willingly, This thought lingered with me and how I wanted and begged to be humiliated more. I had paraded my new femininity around the bedroom touching myself through my panties, rubbing and caressing my newly formed breasts through my lace cupped bra. I wanted and let myself be touched with the submissive nonchalance of willing slave. My wife shamed me further, by using her newly found power to seduce me, running her hands up my stockings and under my skirt, making me willingly except her sexual domination of me by bending me over and spanking me. I now saw the lace toped hold up stockings my wife had great pleasure in running her hands up, they were covered in stains, still wet glistening, the evidence of my explosive love for my female role. My thoughts now quickly turned to those memories of ashamed sexual desire. I quickly realised how she could easily dominate and humiliate me into obeying her every decision. My punishment extended through that night, my wife striping me of all but the black lace knickers, forcing me into a delicate chiffon and lace baby doll night dress.
Even though this event the night before had been traumatic I awoke feeling strange, groggy but well rested. I was alone, my tormentor had already got up leaving me to contemplate. Suddenly my attention turned to the nightie, that was now wrapped around my waist under the bed sheets. It's soft delicate caress tickled as it shifted over my naked body. I lifted the covers and suddenly remembered the slight cleavage that the bra cups produced as they pushed my chest upwards. My newly formed breasts looked not fully developed, but were still nicely rounded and actually quite convincing. This sight fascinated me and as I stared I was becoming more aware of my body and my surroundings. It was then I felt a worrying dampness between my legs. With hesitancy I explored, moving my hand down over my tummy and under the lace hem of my nightie. I was wet, my lace panties sticky. My realisation that I had shamefully wet myself with uncontrolled orgasums was too much and I jumped out of bed and to inspect the evidence of my loss of control. It was then that my wife stepped into the bedroom.
She strode purposefully, not noticing me at first as she removed the long, pink bathrobe that wrapped her showered and glistening wet body. As she looked up a heavy silence hung in the air and we exchanged a painfully long lingering look at each other. She was now naked, standing confidently in middle of the room, while I was standing timidly, legs crossed, with my arms behind my back, dressed in a baby doll nightie and wet panties!
After what seemed like a life time passing she finally broke the silence, striding towards me and laughing out " looks like somebody enjoyed their new girly clothes" she was now looking down at the wet patch the bed. "did my naughty little girl wet her panties in the night?"
I was ashamed, hanging my head, unable to respond. She moved even closer, now standing inches away from me. She was almost the same height as me, but her body language was more powerful, confident, intimidating even. My mind and body froze and I was powerless to do anything as I felt her hand slowly guide the half sodden lace hem of my nightie upwards, before she thrust her right hand between my legs.
"Ooh my little girl has wet her panties" she mocked me, looking straight into my eyes. I hated the thought that i was her little girl, a little girl that was shamefully unable to control herself and I hung my head in shame. She moved closer again, now standing so her naked breast lightly brushed mine. "My little girls breast is almost like a real one" she said, peering down at my little fleshly mounds as they met hers. I tried to move again but I was routed to the spot unable to stop her from moving her hand upwards, onto my tummy and then slowly up over the top of my nightie and onto my left breast.
"Does my little girl like her new breasts, if my little girl likes her punishment then maybe we should continue?"
I tried to not want this, to be strong, move away, i did not want to be my wife's little girl. But i still stood, I was ashamed and humiliated but excited and mesmerised by her at the same time. She now started to rub the delicate chiffon material over my breast, slowly moving the palm of her hand round in circles over my nipples. I suddenly shuddered
"you see all that nice material has made my little girl all sensitive, she likes her little breasts touched doesn't she?"
I tried to react, but she was right, i was becoming more and more aroused by each stroke, I shamefully nodded in appreciation and confirmation of her question, I was enjoying it. I willed her to continue
"Well, we'll have to see if I have some more clothes for my little girl wont I, one more day more will not harm anyone?"
A sharp realisation shocked me out of my impending willing exceptence of more feminization "please no..!' I tried to protest. "hush baby" my wife sharply cut across me, then her fore finger moved under the lace lined bra cup of my baby doll nightie. My body immediately reacted, my legs buckled and I almost fell. Her mood changed suddenly, she knew I was helpless, but instead of continuing she moved her hand, back down my front and straight into my knickers. "My little girl is such a ****, aren't you little girl," there was no room for an answer, "Little slutty girls like you don't know what is best for them, are you a little slutty girl?" I tried to answer but again was denied, as she pulled my wet knickers off, using both hands to pull them quickly down up quivering legs. "You are a little **** and you need more control to stop any naughty little acidents, don't we?" I tried to pull away again but she had me in a grasp that no man could escape from!
"What you doing? let me make myself clear here, either stop struggling or I will hang these wet sheets out for all to see what a dirty little excitable **** you really are." I froze I had to stop this now, but she continued. "Now, I will find you something new to wear, something.... appropriate."
As I stirred I tried to recall the night before. I was drunk, really drunk. My behaviour was terrible and my wife had been furious, so furious she punished me. I can certainly remember that as my punishment had been to be forced into wearing my wife's clothes! 'I had to understand her more', she said. I laughed to myself as I remembered how this silly game involved me drunkenly trying to wear her black pencil skirt, and white tailored blouse. But the game became more serious. She found it funny at first and so did I. But she seemed to become more intent in 'changing me for the better' when seeing me in her clothes. I now felt a fear come over me as light flashes of episodes from the night before entered my consciousness. I looked around me and saw the lace trim of a little pink silk camisole lying on the floor to my left. My mind raced and I now could distinctly see me staggering around our bedroom in that camisole and a black lace balcony bra with matching knickers. They too were now visible, strewn across the floor lying in a heap along with my dignity. For I am a proud man, a mans man they say, not weak and certainly not a sissy. 'It is that kind of male chauvinist attitude that gets me into trouble' she said. For sure I would be the first to admit that and I need to change, but not as much as I had to last night. I did not want to wear those clothes but I did so, willingly, This thought lingered with me and how I wanted and begged to be humiliated more. I had paraded my new femininity around the bedroom touching myself through my panties, rubbing and caressing my newly formed breasts through my lace cupped bra. I wanted and let myself be touched with the submissive nonchalance of willing slave. My wife shamed me further, by using her newly found power to seduce me, running her hands up my stockings and under my skirt, making me willingly except her sexual domination of me by bending me over and spanking me. I now saw the lace toped hold up stockings my wife had great pleasure in running her hands up, they were covered in stains, still wet glistening, the evidence of my explosive love for my female role. My thoughts now quickly turned to those memories of ashamed sexual desire. I quickly realised how she could easily dominate and humiliate me into obeying her every decision. My punishment extended through that night, my wife striping me of all but the black lace knickers, forcing me into a delicate chiffon and lace baby doll night dress.
Even though this event the night before had been traumatic I awoke feeling strange, groggy but well rested. I was alone, my tormentor had already got up leaving me to contemplate. Suddenly my attention turned to the nightie, that was now wrapped around my waist under the bed sheets. It's soft delicate caress tickled as it shifted over my naked body. I lifted the covers and suddenly remembered the slight cleavage that the bra cups produced as they pushed my chest upwards. My newly formed breasts looked not fully developed, but were still nicely rounded and actually quite convincing. This sight fascinated me and as I stared I was becoming more aware of my body and my surroundings. It was then I felt a worrying dampness between my legs. With hesitancy I explored, moving my hand down over my tummy and under the lace hem of my nightie. I was wet, my lace panties sticky. My realisation that I had shamefully wet myself with uncontrolled orgasums was too much and I jumped out of bed and to inspect the evidence of my loss of control. It was then that my wife stepped into the bedroom.
She strode purposefully, not noticing me at first as she removed the long, pink bathrobe that wrapped her showered and glistening wet body. As she looked up a heavy silence hung in the air and we exchanged a painfully long lingering look at each other. She was now naked, standing confidently in middle of the room, while I was standing timidly, legs crossed, with my arms behind my back, dressed in a baby doll nightie and wet panties!
After what seemed like a life time passing she finally broke the silence, striding towards me and laughing out " looks like somebody enjoyed their new girly clothes" she was now looking down at the wet patch the bed. "did my naughty little girl wet her panties in the night?"
I was ashamed, hanging my head, unable to respond. She moved even closer, now standing inches away from me. She was almost the same height as me, but her body language was more powerful, confident, intimidating even. My mind and body froze and I was powerless to do anything as I felt her hand slowly guide the half sodden lace hem of my nightie upwards, before she thrust her right hand between my legs.
"Ooh my little girl has wet her panties" she mocked me, looking straight into my eyes. I hated the thought that i was her little girl, a little girl that was shamefully unable to control herself and I hung my head in shame. She moved closer again, now standing so her naked breast lightly brushed mine. "My little girls breast is almost like a real one" she said, peering down at my little fleshly mounds as they met hers. I tried to move again but I was routed to the spot unable to stop her from moving her hand upwards, onto my tummy and then slowly up over the top of my nightie and onto my left breast.
"Does my little girl like her new breasts, if my little girl likes her punishment then maybe we should continue?"
I tried to not want this, to be strong, move away, i did not want to be my wife's little girl. But i still stood, I was ashamed and humiliated but excited and mesmerised by her at the same time. She now started to rub the delicate chiffon material over my breast, slowly moving the palm of her hand round in circles over my nipples. I suddenly shuddered
"you see all that nice material has made my little girl all sensitive, she likes her little breasts touched doesn't she?"
I tried to react, but she was right, i was becoming more and more aroused by each stroke, I shamefully nodded in appreciation and confirmation of her question, I was enjoying it. I willed her to continue
"Well, we'll have to see if I have some more clothes for my little girl wont I, one more day more will not harm anyone?"
A sharp realisation shocked me out of my impending willing exceptence of more feminization "please no..!' I tried to protest. "hush baby" my wife sharply cut across me, then her fore finger moved under the lace lined bra cup of my baby doll nightie. My body immediately reacted, my legs buckled and I almost fell. Her mood changed suddenly, she knew I was helpless, but instead of continuing she moved her hand, back down my front and straight into my knickers. "My little girl is such a ****, aren't you little girl," there was no room for an answer, "Little slutty girls like you don't know what is best for them, are you a little slutty girl?" I tried to answer but again was denied, as she pulled my wet knickers off, using both hands to pull them quickly down up quivering legs. "You are a little **** and you need more control to stop any naughty little acidents, don't we?" I tried to pull away again but she had me in a grasp that no man could escape from!
"What you doing? let me make myself clear here, either stop struggling or I will hang these wet sheets out for all to see what a dirty little excitable **** you really are." I froze I had to stop this now, but she continued. "Now, I will find you something new to wear, something.... appropriate."
Age:
36-40
,
Male
