Meet the Grandparents

(I had posted the first two chapters of this story here, but I've since rewrote those chapters and added 10 more, so this is the full story. I hope you enjoy it.

“Meet the Grandparents”

by c.w. cobblestone



The SUV rumbled over a pothole, jostling Little Demarcus in his baby seat and making him cry. I stroked his cheek and urged him to “shh,” but the fussing continued, prompting my wife to turn around and scowl at me from the front passenger’s side.

“Jeez, Jody, keep him quiet, already!” Pam spat.

I huffed. “I’m trying — he won’t stop!”

“You better watch your tone, sissy.” Big Demarcus squeezed the steering wheel and glared at me through the rearview mirror. “Show disrespect like that again and when we get to my parents’ house I’ll whoop your little candy ass right in front of everyone — you hear me?”

“Y-yes, sir, I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t mean any d-disrespect, sir.”

Pam scoffed. “Raising your voice to me — you little pansy, you’re lucky I don’t add another six months to your chastity.”

“Oh, please, Mistress, I didn’t mean to—”

She showed me the hand. “Just shut up and keep him quiet — I want him on his best behavior when he meets his Na-Na and Pa-Paw.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

I gave the little one his bottle to try to calm him as the SUV rolled down the highway toward Demarcus’s parents’ house. The baby finally fell asleep, and I sat in the backseat feeling lonely and left out listening to my wife and her lover chat upfront about various subjects, including how nervous they were to be introducing his parents to their grandchild and our interracial cuckold lifestyle.

Pam and Demarcus didn’t include me in their conversation, and I never cut in, since the standing rule in our household is that I’m to speak only when spoken to unless there’s an emergency. I wasn’t their equal, so it was just a given that I wasn’t part of their tête-à-tête; my job was to sit quietly in the backseat and take care of their kid. Wallowing in self-pity, I eventually nodded off myself, exhausted from the long trip. I didn’t wake up until the SUV rolled to a stop in front of a large house situated on about an acre of land.

“Give him to me and then get the suitcases,” my wife said after I’d exited the vehicle and removed little Demarcus from his car seat. I handed over the baby, smoothed out my maid’s frock, and retrieved the four pieces of luggage from the hatch. My wife and her lover held hands and strolled up the long cobblestone walkway while I struggled to keep up lugging a heavy suitcase in each hand with large bags slung over each shoulder. I felt a familiar wave of resentment thinking that it probably hadn’t even crossed Demarcus’s mind to help me carry the luggage.

The front door swung open and Carla and Ronald sprang onto the front porch, all smiles as they rushed toward Demarcus and Pam. Everyone hugged and ogled the baby, who thankfully had calmed down and was smiling at his new grandparents. I stood there holding the luggage while everyone got acquainted.

Ronald looked my wife up and down. “Wow, you’re even more gorgeous than in the pictures. Thank you, Pamela, for giving us such a beautiful grandson.”

Carla nodded. “You two do make beautiful babies — now, are you going to give us a granddaughter anytime soon?”

That got a chuckle out of everyone. Then, Ronald turned to me. “And you must be Jody.”

Keeping my eyes down, I executed the best curtsy possible while weighed down by the heavy suitcases. “Yes, sir, it’s an honor to meet you, sir.” I turned to Carla. “It’s an honor to meet you, Ma’am.”

Carla regarded me with tight lips. “Demarcus says you’re gonna give this house a deep cleaning while you’re here.”

I bobbed another unwieldy curtsey. “Uh, yes, Ma’am, I’m here for whatever you need, Ma’am.”

“Well, that’s good, because my back’s been out and I haven’t been able to clean.” Carla grimaced at my mistress and master. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t come up for the birth. I wanted to so badly, but I couldn’t move. And Ronald had to stay here and take care of me.”

Pam smiled. “That’s okay — we would’ve brought him down here earlier but Demarcus had that big case and he couldn’t get any time off.”

Ronald clapped his son on the back. “Yeah, your mom told me! Nice job, ambulance-chaser — how many millions did you make off the hospital this time?”

“Stop counting Demarcus’s money, Ronald, the boy already bought us a house.” Carla shook her head and glanced my way. “Come on, everyone, let’s get off the porch and go inside — this poor little thing looks like he’s about to fall over holding all those suitcases.”

“Oh, Jody will be fine.” Demarcus snapped his fingers as the group passed the threshold into the foyer. “Take those upstairs to the first bedroom on the right and unpack everything — then come and ask Mom what housework she wants you to start on.”

“Yes, sir.”

Carla shook her head. “So, he — she? It? — just does whatever you say? Like a slave?”

“He uses male pronouns, Ma.”

“Okay, so, he just does whatever you tell him to do, even though you took his wife off him? You tried explaining it on the phone but I still don’t understand how that works.”

“I told you, Ma — he’s the one who begged us to let him stick around.” Demarcus turned to me. “Tell her, Jody.”

I shifted the bags on my shoulders. “Well, Ma’am, after your son and … um, my mistress fell in love, she was going to divorce me so they could be together. But I … well, I can’t imagine not having her in my life, so I … I asked if maybe they’d let me stay if I could make things easier for them somehow, and … you know, serve them in some capacity. I know she’s in love with your son, and she doesn’t want me romantically, and I accept that … but I asked if there was anything I could do just to keep her in my life in some way, shape, or form. I told them I could be of use to them … and serve them in a lot of different ways. And I’m not a threat to your son — I realize he’s far more man than I ever could dream of being, so I’m willing to step aside and, you know, find my way of being useful to both of them.”

Carla sighed. “Well, that’s pretty damn sad, if you ask me. Do you want to hang around and do things for her, even though she loves someone else and has his child? And you’re happy about this?”

“Yes, Ma’am. It’s better than being without her.”

“Even though she’s going to divorce you anyway?”

I blinked. “Um, yes, Ma’am. We’re waiting until next year for tax reasons, Ma’am, but as long as I can be a part of her life … and your son and grandson’s lives, then it doesn’t matter if we’re married or not. It’s hard sometimes, I’ll be honest, but I am happy, Ma’am — a lot happier than I would be otherwise.”

Carla scrunched up her face. “And what does your ****** think about all this?”

“Oh, they disowned him,” Pam answered for me. “They’re all a bunch of racists — they were madder that little Demarcus is half-black than they were about our poly arrangement. So, they said they never wanted to talk to him again. Oh, well, screw them — they live in Vermont, so we never have to deal with them. I never liked them, anyway.”

Ronald grinned at his son. “Boy, don’t try to tell me you didn’t have a hand in all this stuff. I know how competitive you are — you’ve got to have someone to push you around since you hurt your knee and can’t push opposing linemen around anymore. So, now you push around those hospitals or the lawyers you go up against in court — and now this little shit.”

Carla smacked her husband’s arm. “Be nice, now.”

Demarcus chortled and shrugged. “Well, I’m not gonna lie, *** — the idea of having Jody stay on as our servant after I stole his wife from him did appeal to me. You know how I am — like you said, I am competitive. But, I swear, it was his idea.”

Ronald furrowed his brow at me. “And, so you’re one of those men who think you were born in the wrong body? You think you’re a woman inside?”

“Um, well, no, sir. But, uh, your son told me if he was going to let me stay—”

“— there’d only be room for one man,” Demarcus finished.

“See?” Ronald chuckled. “I knew you had a hand in this crazy stuff somehow. You turned him into a damn sissy. You just love winning don’t you?”

“Hey, it’s better than losing!” Demarcus replied, slapping his *** a high-five. “Seriously, I wasn’t about to let some guy hang around and stay with Pam and me.”

“Besides, we also think it’ll be easier for little Demarcus and any other kids we have if their nanny is a female, or at least trans.” Pam shrugged. “Trans people are no big deal anymore. That’s why we wanted you guys to meet Jody — to show you that we’re not ******** your grandson to anything too weird. Jody’s just like one of the ******, and we trust him more with little Demarcus than we would anyone else.”

Carla smiled. “Well, then, I’ll admit, it does take some getting used to, but I’m glad you two have a maid and a nanny around to make things easier for you. As long as you both are happy, that’s all that counts — and it sure will be nice for this place to get a good cleaning.”

Demarcus reached over and tweaked my earlobe, making me wince. “All right, Jody, get upstairs and unpack everything so Mom can put you to work.”

“Yes, sir.” I bobbed a curtsey and had to shift to keep the bag from falling off my aching shoulder.

Carla tilted her head. “And you’re sure he doesn’t need the other guest room?”

Pam waved her hand. “Nah, Jody sleeps on the floor by our bed. Jody, tell Na-Na about the new sleeping bag your master let you buy last month.”

I blushed. “Um, it’s… a Dora the Explorer bag, Ma’am.”

Amid titters, Pam explained: “He had a choice between that or Hello Kitty.”

After everyone got a good laugh at my expense, Demarcus pointed to the stairway. “Alright, Jody, go unpack and come see what Mom needs you to do.”

I curtsied. “Um, sir, do you want everything ironed right now, or should I do that later?”

“Do it later — get started on what Mom wants first.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Boy that must be nice, having someone to just do everything like that,” Carla said as I headed toward the stairwell.

“Get used to it, Ma — the little sissy’s at your disposal all week,” Demarcus replied. “Anything you need done, just snap your fingers and it’ll get done.”

“Well, that sounds just great,” Carla sighed.

“Hey, what about me? I got stuff I need done too,” Ronald piped in before smirking at me. “I wouldn’t count on getting a lot of rest while you’re here, Jody.”

“Um, that’s okay, sir, I’m here for whatever you need, sir,” I stopped to curtsy toward Demarcus’s father and continued toting the suitcases up the stairs. After reaching the landing I trudged toward the guest bedroom, resigned to my fate, knowing I’d be busting my ass for the next week while everyone else relaxed.

I had just opened the first suitcase when my wife’s shrill voice interrupted my pity party: “Jody, get down here and change this diaper.”

With a sigh, I grabbed the baby’s diaper bag and headed downstairs.


I DARTED DOWN THE STAIRWELL with the baby’s diaper bag slung over my shoulder, wincing at his piercing shrieks, knowing I’d catch the blame if I couldn’t shut the little bastard up.

“Put him right there,” Pam said, nodding at a spot on the rug near the couch while bouncing her crying son on her lap. After spreading out the blanket on the carpet where my wife had indicated, I took Little Demarcus from her bosom and gave him his pacifier. He calmed down, allowing me to change his shitty diaper without incident.

“Boy, that must be nice,” Carla said as she watched me work from the comfort of her recliner. She smiled at her son. “I sure wish I’d have had a Jody around when you were a baby, as much as you messed your diapers.”

Pam chuckled and rested her head on Demarcus’s muscular shoulder. “Sounds like Little D takes after his *** in more ways than one.”

Carla pouted at me. “Aw, poor Jody — if Little D is anything like his daddy was, you must change a lot of diapers, huh?”

“Um, it’s okay, ma’am, that’s what I’m here for.” I managed a weak smile after my reply fell flat.

When the baby was changed, I handed him to his mother and discarded the dirty diaper in the mudroom trash bin before returning to the living room and standing at attention with my hands folded in front of my apron.

Demarcus smiled at his mother. “So, Ma, what do you want Jody to do first?”

“Well, you said on the phone he gives expert foot massages. My feet are killing me — is it okay if I have him do that first?”

Pam tsked. “Come on, now, Ma, you don’t need to ask — Jody’s here for whatever you want. All you have to do is snap your fingers and he’ll do it.”

“Well, shoot, in that case …” Carla pushed up her recliner’s footstool, raised her hand high in the air, and snapped her fingers. “I want a foot massage — get to it, Jody.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I curtsied. “Um, I packed the lotion I use for my master and mistress’s foot massages if you want me to run upstairs and get it from the bag.”

Demarcus frowned. “Don’t you think you should check with your mistress and me before you go offering up our special foot lotion, sissy?”

Blood drained from my face as I executed a shaky curtsy. “Oh, sir, please, please, sir, I didn’t mean … I … uh …”

My master laughed and waved his hand. “I’m just messing with you, sissy.”

Carla held her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my gawd, that poor little thing is SO afraid of you.”

Demarcus leaned back and smirked. “I like him being afraid of me. Keeps him on his little sissy toes.”

I stood there for a moment unsure of what to do before curtsying toward my master. “Um, permission to speak?”

Ronald guffawed. “Damn, he needs permission to speak, even?”

Demarcus nodded. “He speaks only when spoken to.”

“Nobody wants to hear anything he has to say anyway,” Pam added, crinkling her nose.

Demarcus leaned back on the couch, stroking my wife’s thigh and letting me stand there for several more seconds, showing off for his parents, before finally nodding. “What, sissy? Speak.”

I curtsied again. “Um, sir, I wasn’t sure … uh, if it was okay to use your special foot lotion, sir.”

Demarcus slapped his head. “Yes, jeez, you little pansy, I told you I was just messing with you. Go get it. Of course, you can use it on my mom.”

After I’d curtsied and headed toward the stairs, I heard Ronald sniff. “Gawd damn, son, you got that poor little sissy so scared, he can’t even think straight.”

Within a few minutes, I was on my knees in front of Carla’s recliner, rubbing lotion into her feet as she relaxed with her sleeping grandson in her lap and a satisfied look on her face.

“Ahh, this is wonderful,” she said. “I’m starting to like this arrangement of yours more and more. Ronald, we need to get us a Jody.”

“That would be nice,” Ronald agreed, eyeing me. “Pam, I find it hard to believe a beautiful woman like you is married to a little poof like this.”

“Well, he didn’t always dress as a girl,” Pam said. “Believe it or not, he used to be a man — although not half the man your son is.”

“Not.” Ronald sneered at me. “So, sissy, my son just took your wife off you? Didn’t you try to hold onto her?”

I lowered my eyes and continued rubbing Carla’s feet. “Um, sir, when they met at the gym, it was love at first sight. From the first day, I knew there was nothing I could ever do to stop them from being together.”

“So, you asked if you could stick around and be their little bitch? Don’t you have any damn pride, sissy?”

Carla frowned at her husband. “Hush, Ronald, the poor thing loves her, and he’ll do anything for her. I think it’s kinda sweet.”

Ronald scoffed. “Well, it might be sweet — but I’ll be goddamned if I’d stick around like a sap after my woman told me she didn’t want me.”

“That’s because you’re not a little sissy, Pop,” Demarcus said.

Pam nodded. “No, sir, you’re not. Demarcus told me — you were a better running back in college than he was.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t smart like he was — I screwed around in school, so when I blew out my Achilles tendon, I had no backup. This boy went to law school and studied hard, so when he went down with that knee injury, he had something to fall back on.”

“And became the best trial lawyer in town,” Carla said as she adjusted her foot in my hand and smiled at Pam. “We don’t get your guys’ channels way out here, but Demarcus sends us videos of his commercials. We’re so proud of him.”

“He’s a damn ambulance-chaser,” Ronald joshed his son.

“I made enough money chasing those ambulances to buy you this dump, didn’t I, old man?” Demarcus kidded back.

“Well, it is a dump.” Carla looked down at me. “When you’re done with these feet, you’ve got a WHOLE lot of cleaning to do, understand?”

“Y-yes, Ma’am,” I replied.

After I finished Carla’s foot rub, I spent the next several hours cleaning her house nonstop, until it was time for bed. I was exhausted and was looking forward to crawling into my Dora the Explorer sleeping bag, but as soon as I entered the guest bedroom, Demarcus grabbed my shoulder and pressed his lips against my ear.

“Listen, sissy, I want you to go out to the garage, but be quiet opening and closing the side door,” he said “My ***’s out there; do whatever he says, you hear?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

With a lungful of apprehension, I skulked into the garage to find Ronald in his bathrobe leering at me. He unraveled the drawstring and uncloaked a cock that was even bigger than his son’s howitzer.

He snapped his fingers. “Get over here, sissy, and put those dick-sucking lips to work.”

With my head hung low, I edged toward my master’s father and sank to my knees. He repeatedly slapped my cheek with his fat dick, and it hurt.

“Mama’s had a bad back, and she hasn’t been up for any lovin’,” he explained as he shoved his cock down my throat. “It’s been a while — so this probably won’t take long.”

He was right. Ronald shot his load down my gullet in what seemed to be less than two minutes.

“You keep quiet about this, you hear?” Ronald grabbed my hair and forced me to look at him. “I don’t want Carla finding out. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, licking the inside of my mouth to dispel the taste of cum.

Ronald slapped me in the face and I doubled over rubbing my cheek.

“Good job, bitch, you’ll be doing that a lot in the next few days. What do you say?”

“T-thank you, sir.”

Without another word, he turned and strolled into the house.

I knelt there sobbing for a few minutes before pulling myself together and heading inside. After tiptoeing up the stairs and inching open the guest bedroom door, I slipped inside the room to find my master cuddled up on the bed asleep.

As quietly as I could, I removed my maid’s frock, pulled my sleeping bag from under the bed, and rested my weary bones at my master’s feet. I lay in the darkness contemplating the long days of work ahead of me before finally drifting off to sleep.


WHEN MY MASTERS AWOKE at sunrise, I greeted them from my usual spot on my knees at the foot of their bed. I had gotten up about an hour earlier and was already dressed in my neatly ironed blue frock as I knelt on the carpet with my hands clasped behind me awaiting the first orders of the new day.

Demarcus stretched out on his parents’ guest room mattress while Pam sat up and took a swig of fresh, cold water from the glass I’d set on her nightstand just before dawn. I tried to avoid staring at the pert nipples that peeked through my wife’s diaphanous nightie — I knew there’d be hell to pay if Demarcus ever caught me gawking at his woman with lust in my sissy eyes.

Following a long yawn, my master rolled out of bed and trudged toward the guest bathroom. As part of our morning routine, I rose and followed him with my head bowed. By the time I got to the john, he’d already started urinating. I knelt by his side and waited.

When the tinkling subsided, Demarcus shifted to the right. I leaned forward and sucked the last few droplets from the end of his dick like I did after each morning piss.

He scowled down at me. “I don’t want my mom finding out about any of this, you hear?”

“Yes, sir.” I licked my salty lips.

“She needs to see that her grandson ain’t gonna be ******* to anything weird. She’s already a little freaked out about you as it is — so, the shit we do away from Little D needs to stay quiet. Got it?”

I wanted to scream, “Why in the world would I tell your mom that you make me suck pee out of your dick every morning?” Instead, I bowed my head and whispered, “Yes sir.”

Demarcus chuckled. “My ***’s a dawg like I am — he thinks this shit’s funny. But Moms ain’t about all that. So, she doesn’t find out.”

“No, of course not, sir.”

He ruffled my hair. “Good sissy.” As he strolled away, I wiped off the toilet, flushed, put the seat down, and skedaddled out of there so my wife could use the bathroom. Early in our triad relationship, it had been Pam’s idea for me to accompany her lover into the john each morning. She was tired of seeing Demarcus piss on the rim, so she told me to go with him and clean up his messes before she used the facilities. After a while, my master started having me suck his dick clean when he was done peeing. Sometimes, he’d hold a little back and surprise me by squirting urine down my throat and/or spritzing my face. As his father had pointed out when we were introduced, Demarcus was a bully at heart. My master seized every opportunity to put me in my “sissy little place,” as he liked to say, and our morning ritual provide ample opportunities.

As Pam passed me in the guest bedroom, she yawned. “The baby’s awake; go get him ready.”

I curtsied, said a respectful “Yes, Mistress,” and scurried across the room to the playpen. Little D looked up at me and grinned. His diaper was wet, so I cleared my throat and curtsied to my reclining master.

“Permission to speak, sir?”

Demarcus didn’t look up from his iPhone. “What, sissy?”

“Um, the baby’s wet. Is it okay if I change him, sir?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He didn’t reply.

Swallowing the familiar, bitter taste of resentment as it struck me how casually my master took my devoted service for granted, I changed his son’s wet diaper while he chilled on the bed a few feet away, scrolling through his phone. My wife returned from the bathroom and plopped down on the bed next to her lover. They cuddled and idly watched me work.

Pam’s lip suddenly curled. “I forgot to tell you, Jody: I saw a stain on one of his bibs yesterday,” she said. “You need to start paying more attention to the damn laundry. You hear?”

“Y-yes, Mistress. I-I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“Sorry, my ass.” Without further comment my way, she turned to her lover to discuss other matters.

After the baby was changed, I handed him over to my wife and curtsied. “Permission to speak?”

“Mmhm.”

I curtsied again. “Thank you, Mistress. What outfit would you like me to pick out for Little Demarcus, Mistress?”

She thought about it for a second. “Put him in that cute little football uniform. The one that’s all red.”

Demarcus chuckled. “I knew you were gonna pick that one. Pops will love it.”

I curtsied and darted to the dresser to retrieve the outfit with the logo of Central State University — the alma mater of my master and his ***, who both had been star running backs before injuries ended their NFL dreams.

After dressing Little D and giving him back to his mommy, I again curtsied to the reclining couple and requested permission to speak. Demarcus nodded and I asked, “Would Mistress and Master like me to pick out clothes for the day?”

Since they had no plans other than relaxing with Demarcus’ parents while I continued giving the house a deep cleaning, I was ordered to retrieve sweatsuits — a pink one for my wife, and red Central State gear for my master to match his son’s outfit.

As I knelt before Demarcus tying his Air Jordans, he looked down at me and smirked. “Were you nice to my Pops last night, sissy?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“What did he make you do?”

I glanced at my wife and wanted to die. “Um … uh, sir, he … he had me … um … suck him.”

“He wanted a blowjob?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did he cum in your mouth?”

“Um, yes, sir.”

“You swallow?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Pam sneered. “How pathetic. You know how pathetic you are, Jody?”

“Um, yes, Mistress.”

“I doubt you do. Tell me something, Jody: Did I make the right choice by dumping your pathetic little ass for this magnificent specimen of a man?” She squeezed her lover’s bicep.

I bit my lip. “Y-yes, Mistress.”

“Losers like you shouldn’t breed. Should they?”

“No, Mistress.”

Demarcus tittered. “Well, I’d be careful if I was you. Pops might want that booty-hole next.”

My wife cracked up at my petrified reaction as Demarcus snorted.

“Just fucking with you, sissy,” he said.

I smiled weakly at my master.

Demarcus’ expression turned serious. “You better not let my mom find out about you and Pops. You hear, sissy?”

“No, sir. I won’t, sir.”

“Make sure you don’t. Now, put my other shoes on and go make coffee. And be quiet — don’t wake my parents.”

“Yes, sir.”

But when I got halfway down the stairs, I saw that Carla and Ronald were already awake.


AS I DESCENDED THE STAIRWAY, I was greeted by the earthy smell of coffee and Carla’s aggravated grimace.

“There you are.” The frowning grandma leaned back in her chair and pointed at her cup. “Is there a reason why the coffee wasn’t made? I had to get up and make it myself — and I’m not supposed to be lifting a finger while you’re here, remember?”

I curtsied with a gulp. “Um, Ma’am, I’m so sorry; sometimes Mister and Missus want tea, so I always wait until they tell me what to make every morning.”

Carla sniffed. “Well, Ron and I drink coffee EVERY morning — so as long as you’re here, you need to have it done by the time we get up. You hear me?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I-I’m so sorry, Ma’am,” I bleated while executing a series of apologetic curtsies.

Ron blew on his hot cup and chuckled. “Dang, Carla, it didn’t take you long to start acting like a spoiled, old queen, did it, now?”

Carla smiled. “It’s nice having him around to do all the work.”

“But you always said you didn’t want help.” Ron furrowed his brow. “I begged you to hire a housecleaner after you hurt your back but you refused.”

“I don’t know, Ron, housecleaners are different. I told you back then — I’d feel funny sitting around telling one of those girls what to do. But this pathetic thing …” She looked me up and down. “Ugh. He, she — it — doesn’t deserve any respect. He doesn’t respect himself; why should I respect him, or care about anything he thinks?”

Ron nodded. “He’s a pathetic one, all right. I guess some people are just born to be on the bottom — ain’t that right, princess?”

I curtsied. “Yes, sir.”

Thankfully, the attention shifted away from me when Pam ambled down the stairs carrying the baby, followed by the broad-shouldered Demarcus.

My wife and her lover settled on the couch and ordered coffee. After I’d served my masters and handed Little D over to his grandma, I backed into the corner and stood there like a statue with my hands folded in front of my apron and my head bowed, pretending that I wasn’t eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Your mama was just yelling at your maid for not having the coffee ready this morning,” Ron told his son. “I don’t think she likes the little pansy very much — and Ma likes everyone.”

“Why, what did Jody do, Ma?” Demarcus cut me with a menacing glance.

Carla shook her head. “It’s not anything he’s done; he just annoys the devil out of me, that’s all. Something about him, with that pathetic, scared look on his face, always scurrying around doing what everyone tells him to do. Who lets themself be treated that way?”

“I’m embarrassed that I ever married him,” Pam said, curling her lip in my direction. “If it wasn’t for your son, I’d have probably just dumped him, because he gets on my nerves, too. But Demarcus likes having him around.”

My master playfully slapped Pam’s arm. “Don’t even try it — you like having him around, too.”

“Well, yeah, I like having all the housework done, and not having to change diapers,” my wife said. “But if I had my preference, I’d probably just hire a maid and a nanny, and be done with the little sissy. I hate to be reminded that I was ever stupid enough to marry him.”

Ron grinned at his son. “I told you, boy — you just need someone to push around. I know your little butt.”

Demarcus grinned back. “What can I say, Pops?”

“You two are crazy.” Carla clucked her tongue. “All that male aggression. I suppose it’s good that you have an outlet for it since you don’t have football anymore.” She smirked at me. “Is my son mean to you, girly-boy?”

“Um, Ma’am, I … I … Mister Demarcus is always kind, even when he sees fit to discipline me, Ma’am.”

“Just pathetic.” Carla sipped her coffee. “Pam, I understand why you wouldn’t want to be reminded that you were once married to this little sissy.”

“Well, I just try to ignore him as much as possible. That’s why I put our golden rule in place — isn’t that right, Jody?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said with a smart bob.

“Tell your master’s mom what our golden rule is.”

Another dip. “Um, I don’t speak unless spoken to, Ma’am.”

“And why is that?”

“Um, because nobody wants to hear anything a sissy like me has to say, Ma’am.”

Carla nodded. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Pam eyed me for several seconds, making me squirm, before conceding, “But he does have his uses. Like I said, it’s great not having to do housework or change diapers. And it’s huge that we don’t have to worry about any problems with Little D like we might if we hired a nanny. Jody is so infatuated with me that I know he’d never do anything bad to my children. Would you, Jody?”

“No, Ma’am, of course not.”

“Of course not,” my wife repeated.

Carla shifted on the cushion. “So, how will it work when Little D gets older?”

“Like it would in any other household that has a maid.” Demarcus shrugged.

“Well,” Carla drawled, “you would never treat a regular maid as badly as you do this thing — not that I’m saying he doesn’t deserve it, but—”

“Oh, don’t worry, Ma.” Demarcus waved his hand. “We’ll keep the mean stuff behind closed doors. But Little D is most certainly going to grow up understanding that he’s better than Jody and that he should expect total obedience.”

Carla nodded. “Well, of course, he should be taught that he’s not on the same level as Jody. I’m just concerned … you know …”

“Don’t worry,” Pam said. “We have our fun with Jody, but the last thing I want is for your grandson, and any other kids we have in the future, to grow up in a dysfunctional household. As far as they’re concerned, Jody will just be the ****** maid — like Alice on ‘The Brady Bunch.’”

“Well, thank you, honey.” Carla smiled. “I hope you’re not offended that I asked.”

“Of course not. If I was in your shoes, I’d probably be concerned about the same thing.”

Demarcus rubbed his stomach. “Enough talk — I’m hungry. You want Jody to make breakfast, Ma?”

“Oh, heck no — I’ve been waiting to cook you and your lovely girlfriend one of my big breakfasts.” Carla snarled at me. “You’ll be doing the dishes, though, hear?”

I curtsied. “Of course, Ma’am.”

Ron snapped his fingers. “How about a refill on this coffee, sissy?”

“Yes, sir.”

I curtsied and scurried off to the kitchen. As I leaned forward to serve Ron his refill, he winked at me — an unspoken taunt about how he’d face-fucked me only hours earlier.

Carla decided she also wanted a refill, and after I served it to her, she pointed toward the back of the house.

“You can start in the basement this morning,” she said. “It’s a mess down there, so it’ll probably take you a few days. I’ll call you when the dishes need doing.”

After curtseying in response, I turned to my wife and executed another dip. “Permission to speak, Ma’am?”

“What?”

I clasped my hands in front of me. “Um, Ma’am, it is okay if I use the bathroom before I start?”

With a playful glance toward his father, Demarcus cut in with an answer: “No, sissy, why don’t you hold it for a few hours? Show my parents how loyal you are.”

My bottom lip quivered. “Y-yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Carla scoffed and shook her head for the dozenth time. “Pathetic. Pathetic.”


THE BASEMENT WAS STILL A MESS even after I’d been cleaning for two hours, but my screaming bladder was about to explode and I had to try to get relief. Drawing a deep breath, I clenched my crotch muscles and wobbled upstairs to the living room, where my superiors were relaxing and watching TV.

I kneeled in front of the couch and clasped my hands together, beseeching my wife and her lover with my eyes. “P-permission to speak, p-please?”

Everyone smirked down on me as Demarcus rubbed his chin, pretending to contemplate my request. Finally, he broke the excruciating silence: “I don’t know — what do you guys think? Does anyone want to hear what a sissy has to say right now?”

Pam crinkled her nose. “I know I sure don’t.”

Carla shifted the sleeping baby on her lap. “I think the little wussy has to pee. You didn’t let him go earlier, remember?”

Demarcus snickered. “Oh, man, that’s right! I forgot about that!”

Ron chortled. “Poor sissy. Do you have to pee pee?”

Since I hadn’t been permitted to speak, I nodded frantically.

My master’s father drained his cup and held it out toward me. “Well, I need a refill, so you’ll be needing to take care of that first.”

“Top me off, too, Jody,” Carla said, pointing at her cup.

I scrambled to my feet, curtsied, and rushed to obey before again dropping to my knees in front of the couch and interlocking my fingers to signal my silent begging.

Demarcus pulled my wife into his embrace and tutted at me. “You know, Jody, I’m a little disappointed. Here I am trying to show my parents how loyal you are, and you wimp out on me like this. It’s not even noon yet. I want you to show my mom and pops how obedient you are, Jody. So, you’re gonna give me another hour. At noon, I’ll let you go to the bathroom. M’kay?”

“Y-y-y-yes, sir….t-t-t-thank you, sir.”

Carla shook her head. “I swear, the way the little pansy just does whatever he’s told, with that ‘poor me’ look on his face — it gets on my nerves like nobody’s business.”

“I know what you mean,” Pam said. “You want a man to be a man, so when you see this little shit being such a weakling, it just makes you want to smack him.”

“Tell me about it,” Carla replied.

“You know, Ma, you can slap the sissy any time you want to,” Demarcus offered.

Carla shrugged. “Maybe later. I don’t want to disturb Little D right now. But I definitely may take you up on that. He’s got the kind of face you just want to smack.”

Ron tittered. “Dang, that poor little fairy can’t catch a break.”

“He deserves everything he gets.” Carla glared at me. “You should apologize to Pam for pretending to be a man and wasting this beautiful woman’s time by marrying her.”

“I-I’m sorry.” I blinked back tears.

“I’m so glad she found my son to carry on our ****** bloodline — I would hate to think of you passing on your pathetic genes. Things like you shouldn’t breed.” Carla glanced at Demarcus. “Is it okay if I make the little wuss wait another two hours to pee?”

My master threw back his head and laughed. “Of course, Ma.”

Pam nodded. “Yeah, we told you — you can make him do anything you want.”

Carla smirked at me. “You hear that, wussy? Come back here at two and see if I changed my mind. I might make you wait until six — or maybe I’ll make you go out in the backyard and pee on yourself.”

That cracked up everyone in the room.

My master’s mom snapped her fingers. “Now, get your sissy butt back down there and clean my basement. There better not be a speck of dirt.”

Ron chuckled and said something that started with, “Damn, woman,” but I didn’t hear the rest of his statement, since I was already in the kitchen and headed toward the basement door.

Whatever Ron said to his wife, though, it made everyone laugh again.



“Meet the Grandparents,” Chapter 6

by c.w. cobblestone

My shoulder throbbed after twenty minutes of scrubbing the tile near the laundry sink, but the damned calcium stain wouldn’t budge. I set down the steel wool pad and tried to stretch my arm, but when I shifted position, a cold wave ran through me and I remembered how badly I had to piss.

I clenched my legs together and choked out a frustrated sob. I knew there was no way I could wait any longer; I simply had to ask for permission to use the bathroom, or I’d surely make a mess.

By the time I’d struggled to my feet, though, I was second-guessing myself, and wondering whether pissing in my panties might be preferable to whatever punishment awaited me if I dared to ask my master’s mother to rescind her order that I ‘hold it’ until two o’clock.

I would have squeezed my penis to try to stop the flood, but it was encased in my accursed chastity device. Instead, I danced in a little circle, debating whether to go upstairs and beg for relief, or just piss myself and accept the consequences.

The decision was made for me; as I did my little jig, my right heel slipped on the wet tile and I fell hard, severely twisting my ankle. I couldn’t continue holding my bladder, and I rolled around on the basement floor moaning with the warm wetness soaking my panties and the front of my frock. For a nanosecond, I felt relief, but that was quickly replaced by the throbbing in my ankle and the ice that formed in my gut as I wondered what my punishment would be when my masters learned of my accident.

I lay there for maybe five minutes before I was able to rouse myself and wipe up my piss from the basement floor before hobbling toward the stairs. Walking was incredibly difficult with my ankle swelled up to twice its normal size, but I somehow mustered the willpower to make it up the steps.

With tears in my eyes, I stood before my masters, curtsied, and asked for permission to speak so I could explain what had happened — but my wife beat me to it.

“You have GOT to be kidding me, standing there with piss all over yourself,” she screamed. “I can’t believe you’d embarrass us like this, you little worm.”

Carla frowned. “Did you get pee everywhere in my basement, Jody?”

With a wobbly curtsy, I shook my head. “N-no, Ma’am, I cleaned it up.”

Demarcus chuckled. “Damn, sissy, this just isn’t your day, is it? That ankle looks pretty bad.”

I curtsied in response.

“What happened?” my master asked.

“Um … I slipped on the wet tile, sir. That’s how I ended up … my accident … I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Demarcus said. “My mom’s the one who told you to wait until two.”

I turned to Carla and curtsied. “Ma’am, please … I didn’t mean to disobey you. I tried.”

“You tried.” The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, Jody. You’re the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Now, you can march yourself back down to my basement and finish cleaning — and, no, you can’t change out of that wet uniform.”

“Y-yes, Ma’am.”

“Get your butt back to work.” Carla snapped her fingers.

Following my smart curtsy, I started to limp away, which caused Ron to chuckle.

“Poor sissy; you just can’t catch a break, can you?” he said. “It’s gonna be hard to clean with that ankle swelled up like that, huh?”

Pam waved her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about Jody. He’s happy to make himself useful; otherwise, we’d have no reason to keep him around. Right, Jody?”

“Y-yes, Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am.”

Pam nodded regally. “You can go now.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

I was halfway down the basement steps when I heard the baby cry, followed by my wife’s annoyed voice.

“Jody! Get back up here; you’ve got a diaper to change.”

With a sigh, I hurried back to the living room as fast as my injured ankle would allow. When Pam spotted my wet dress, she scowled and pointed toward the stairwell. “Go upstairs and put on a fresh apron before you touch my baby with piss all over you,” she said. “And wash your hands. Hurry up.”

I carried out my wife’s instructions quickly before spreading a blanket onto the living room floor and taking the baby from his mom’s arms.

Carla watched as I unfastened Little D’s wet diaper. “Are you sure you trust this pervert around my grandson? From what I can see, the degenerate little creep doesn’t have much in the way of character.”

Demarcus shrugged. “Nah, we’re not worried, Ma. Jody would never do anything to displease us. Ain’t that right, Jody?”

“Yes, sir, of course not, sir,” I said as I put a fresh diaper on his son.

Pam nodded. “As I told you earlier, I trust Jody a lot more than I would some nanny, any day of the week. Believe it or not, Jody’s not a pervert. He doesn’t like dressing up like this — not that anyone cares what he likes. But it was Demarcus’s idea. Jody hates it.”

Ron laughed. “Damn, Jody, that must suck. It’s one thing if you’re into dressing like a girl. But to be made to do it? How do you live with yourself?”

My lip trembled as I struggled to hold back tears amid the onslaught of derision. “Um sir, I … I just love Miss Pam, sir, and I want to make her happy. She fell in love with your son, sir, and as I told you earlier, I begged them to let me stay in her life in some capacity. This is how they want me to be, so I’m just happy they’ve found a place for me, sir, and that’s why I try to be the best maid I can be.”

“Although sometimes you fall short, and disobey orders.” Pam arched her brow. “Like pissing in your panties when you’ve been told to wait.”

“I’m so sorry, Ma’am.”

“Whatever,” my wife said as I handed over her freshly-diapered son. “Now, limp your sissy ass downstairs and get back to cleaning.”

“And I’d hurry up if I was you,” Carla added. “You got a whole lot more stuff to do when you’re done down there. I don’t care how much your ankle hurts.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Normally, I’m not like this,” Carla said, flashing her teeth. “But something about you brings out the devil in me. I’m gonna work you until you drop, you hear? And if your ankle hurts, so much the better.”

“Y-yes, Ma’am.”

Ron smirked. “And we haven’t even talked about all the chores I have lined up for you. Like I said, you just can’t catch a break.”

As I hobbled down the basement stairs, I muttered to myself, “You don’t know the half of it, you hateful old bastard.”


I HOBBLED THROUGH THE BASEMENT checking every nook and cranny to ensure there wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. The ass-whipping that surely awaited me if I missed anything weighed heavily on my mind.

It was slow, agonizing work. Each step I took caused incredible pain. Walking on heels didn’t help. My injury had caused my foot to balloon up along with the ankle, and my shoe squeezed like a hungry boa constrictor. The gnawing rash I’d developed on my crotch and inner thighs from having pissed myself added to my misery. The strain and pain caused me to perspire profusely, and my maid’s frock was soaked from sweat and urine.

As I was on my hands and knees searching for dust bunnies under the washer, Ron’s voice boomed out: “I need a refill up here.”

Through a cloud of pain, I navigated the stairs as quickly as possible. Everyone looked so comfortable and relaxed chilling on the soft furniture, and a wave of jealousy ran through me as I wished for the millionth time that I could go back to being treated like a normal human being again.

Ron snapped his fingers, jolting me from my pity party, and pointed at his empty glass. “Limp your sissy ass into the kitchen and fill that backup. On the double.”

With a smirk, my wife nudged her lover in the ribs. “Look, Jody’s got a cankle!”

“Let’s hit the other one with a crowbar so he’ll have matching cankles,” Demarcus joked.

“Damn, son, that’s cold,” Ron teased.

My betters all chuckled as I ignored the jibes, scooped up Ron’s class, and made my way to the kitchen, trying not to wince as jolts of pain shot through me with each step.

After I’d returned and set down the replenished drink, Carla asked, “Is my basement clean yet, Jody?”

I curtsied. “Um, I’m almost done, Ma’am.”

“Well, it better be spotless, or, I’m gonna have my son take you out to the garage and whoop your ass. You hear me? Now, get back to work.”

“Y-yes, Ma’am.”

Ron tittered and squeezed his wife’s knee. “Damn, woman, this little poof does bring out the devil in you, doesn’t he? You’re as mean to him as Demarcus is.”

“I can’t stand him.” Carla looked me up and down. It made me feel self-conscious, and, not knowing what else to do, I curtsied and lowered my eyes.

My wife huffed. “And you’re still standing there, why? Go clean, like you were told. You make me sick just looking at you — you’re disgusting, all sweaty like that.”

“S-sorry, Mistress.”

Carla scowled. “I don’t want you sweating all over my house, Jody. Go into the mudroom; there are some old stockings in the red trunk. Put one of ‘em on your head. Put two on your head, so we don’t have to look at your ugly little butt.”

That got a huge laugh out of everyone. With tears forming in my eyes, I shambled to the mudroom and retrieved two of the multiple pairs of nylons that were stuffed in the trunk along with other odds and ends. As soon as I’d slipped the stockings over my head, I knew it was going to be excruciating having to breathe through the layers of itchy fabric, adding to all my other problems.

The room erupted with renewed merriment when I returned.

“That just about suits you,” Carla said. “As far as I’m concerned, you can keep those on your head the whole time you’re here, so I don’t have to look at that pitiful expression you run around with. You hear me?”

“Y-yes, Ma’am.”

Demarcus cracked up. “Dang, Ma. I’ve never seen you like this with anyone.”

“I can’t tell you how much this little creep gets on my nerves.” Carla glanced at Little, D, who was slumbering in his crib. “You know what? Since the baby’s asleep, I’m gonna take you up on your offer and slap this little twerp. Get over here, Jody.”

There were grins all around as I shuffled toward the agitated old woman. As soon as I got within striking distance, she reared back and slapped the shit out of me, causing my head to snap sideways.

“Hit him again, Ma!” Demarcus urged, while Pam clapped and bounced on the couch next to him.

A backhand was Carla’s response, and her diamond ring got caught in the nylon, ripping the material. For a nanosecond, I felt relieved that I might have a breathing hole, although my master’s mother must’ve read my mind because she snapped: “Now, go back in the trunk and put another stocking on your head. And then get your butt down to the basement and finish up, because there’s a lot more work to do.”

“Yeah, and hurry up, because you’ve still got my truck to detail tonight,” Ron said. “And then you get to clean out that garage. That ought to keep your sissy ass up all night. But you’ll be alright — who needs sleep, anyway?”

Demarcus shot me a glare. “My pops just found a way to make you useful. What do you say?”

With a smart curtsey, I peeped, “Thank you, sir, for finding things for me to do.” My voice was muffled through the nylons.

After glancing at Carla to ensure she wasn’t looking, the old bastard winked at me. “Oh, I’m sure we can find plenty for you to do. Now, get your sissy ass back to work.”

I limped back to the mudroom and donned another pair of Carla’s old nylons. Then, with three layers of stockings on my head, I hobbled downstairs and did my final walk-through, laboring to breathe as I peered through the thick material to see if I’d forgotten to clean anything.

It had been an excruciating day. On top of my injury making the job ten times harder, there had been constant interruptions from upstairs. The baby’s diaper needed changing. Drinks needed refilling. At least my superiors went out to dinner, and they brought Little D with them, so I was able to work without interruptions for a few hours. But as soon as they returned home, the constant orders continued.

After a good nine hours of scrubbing, scouring, and polishing, I finally felt the basement was clean enough to tell Carla it was ready for inspection. But I kept triple- and quadruple-checking, fearful my master’s mom would find fault somewhere.

When I was finally satisfied that the basement was spotless, I inched my way upstairs and stood before my masters.

“Um, permission to speak?”

Demarcus nodded. “Speak, sissy.”

“The basement is clean, sir.”

“Don’t tell me — tell my mom.”

I turned to Carla and repeated my curtsey. “Permission to speak, Ma’am?”

“No, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” Carla snarled. “I’ll go down there tomorrow to inspect. For now, I want another one of your foot massages, but you need to wash up first — you smell like a dang outhouse. I don’t want you using my bathroom, though, or even my laundry sink. So, go out to the garage and use the garden hose. Stand over the floor drain, so your slime doesn’t get everywhere.”

“I’ll hose off the sissy,” Ron volunteered. He crooked his finger at me. “Come on, Jody. Let’s go.”

With a pounding heart, I followed my master’s father through the kitchen and into the garage, where he ordered me to strip and remove the stockings from my head. The feeling of relief from being able to breathe unencumbered by the cloying nylon lasted a few seconds before a cold blade of water stung my flesh. Ron made me hold my arms up and turn in slow circles as he worked the vicious stream like a bullwhip, aiming the hose at different body parts. The finale was when he told me to bend over and spread my cheeks, and he fired water darts at my butthole. The pummeling caused me to yelp, which seemed to amuse my tormentor.

When Ron decided I was properly clean, he leered and pointed to a spot on the concrete in front of him.

“Get over here and kneel, sissy,” he said. “We’ve got business to take care of — and you need to hurry, too, so Ol’ Woman doesn’t wonder why we’re out here so long.”

As soon as I knelt, Ron grabbed my ears, yanked my face forward, and shoved his cock in my mouth. I blew him at double speed as he held fast to my poor ears, using them as handles to push his huge dick in and out of my mouth. I gagged in rhythm with his thrusts.

In less than a minute, he tensed up before shooting his thick, warm load down my throat. He kept his cock in my mouth and I felt him relax all his crotch muscles. I sensed what was about to happen, and got ready for it. Sure enough, he started pissing.

“Demarcus told me about your morning routine,” he said as he emptied his bladder. “So, while you’re here, we’re gonna make this OUR routine. Got it, pansy?”

I licked my lips. “Y-yes, sir. T-thank you, sir.”

“And Mama had better not find out about this. You hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Ron slapped me across the face. “Good. Now, clean up and get back inside. You got a whole lot more work to do, sissy.”

With a chuckle, he sauntered out of the garage. I gritted my teeth, swallowed my tears, and washed my face before putting my urine-soaked uniform back on — a decision that earned me a rebuke when I reported back to the living room, even though my only other option would’ve been to stay naked.

“What’s the point in washing off if you’re just gonna put on the same nasty uniform?” Carla spat as I approached her. “Go change into something clean.”

As I curtseyed and hurriedly limped away, Pam snorted and said, “Stupid sissy. He’s embarrassing us.”

As soon as I’d finished tying my apron, I heard the baby cry.

“Jody, come change him,” my wife called.

I allowed myself a second to sigh, reach under the nylons, and wipe away yet another tear. Then, I wobbled back downstairs and headed toward the crib. As I approached Little D, he shrieked in terror.

“He’s scared of those stockings on your face,” Pam said. “Take ‘em off — NOW!!!”

I tried to hide my relief as I pulled off the nylons. Little D’s crying subsided, and I quickly changed his diaper and handed him to his mother.

“I guess the new rule is: You wear those on your head until you come around the baby,” Carla said. “For now, take your apron and put it over your face so I don’t have to look at you. We’ll see if that bothers Little D.”

After I covered my face with my apron, the room was silent for a few seconds, as my masters gauged the baby’s reaction. There was none, and I heard Carla snap her fingers.

“Alright, now come do these feet, Jody.”

I spent the next hour in darkness, rubbing Carla’s stinky bunions while everyone chatted like I wasn’t in the room. Breathing was easier with just the apron over my face instead of the three layers of nylon. And nobody was insulting me.

Counting my blessings, I tried to ignore the pain in my ankle and concentrate on giving pleasure to an old biddy who despised me.


IT WAS ALREADY WELL PAST 3 AM, according to the clock on the garage workbench, but I wasn’t even close to finishing my ridiculously long list of chores. I figured I had about four more hours before everyone woke up, so I mustered all my strength and worked faster — until I collapsed from exhaustion, tumbling onto the concrete floor I’d just scrubbed.

Hobbled by a severely sprained ankle, I’d been cleaning for 19 hours straight, most of it while struggling to breathe through three layers of stifling, stinky nylons. Throughout the ordeal, I hadn’t taken a break, but after falling to the garage floor, I figured since I was down there anyway, I might as well enjoy being off my feet for a few seconds.

Sitting there made me realize how tired and miserable I was, and I started feeling sorry for myself, and wondering why everyone was always so mean to me. My only crime had been to love my wife. I knew I was a sap who’d brought a lot of my problems on myself since I’d begged Pam and Demarcus to let me stick around and serve them after they’d fallen in love. But I hadn’t signed up for having my life ruined. Demarcus could have allowed me to keep my job, and to continue living as a man, while still making myself useful. Hell, I would’ve been happy to work three jobs and turn over every dime of my paychecks to them. They would’ve never needed to lift a finger, go shopping, put gas in their cars — I would’ve gladly done it all.

There was no reason for Demarcus to have turned me into a sissy slave, other than his innate desire to not only win but to crow about it; to rub my nose in the fact that he’d stolen my wife and my manhood. My master never let me forget for one minute that he was the top dog, which thrilled Pam to no end. On the night when I was introduced to her lover, and he pushed me around to show me who was boss, she said seeing me cower before the superior male awoke some primal urge, and made her hornier than she’d ever been. After that, Demarcus looked for reasons to cut me down in front of his woman.

No wonder Carla said I had a “scared look on my face” all the time — I WAS scared all the time, knowing at any minute, my master could slap me for no reason, or stick out his foot to make me trip, or cavalierly order me to do some unnecessary chore that would take 12 hours to complete. Anything to get a giggle out of Pam — and turn her on. Often after Demarcus would do something cruel to me, they’d traipse off to the bedroom, and I’d listen to their animal noises, cursing myself for putting up with the abuse.

But while I was used to my wife and her bully of a boyfriend treating me like shit, it was somehow worse having to submit to the cruelty of my master’s parents.

Carla was horrible; after being nice to me at first, she quickly came to hate my guts. I hadn’t done a damn thing to her, other than give her foot massages and clean her house to the point where I was drenched with perspiration. Her reward was to make me wear three pairs of her old nylons on my head because she didn’t want me sweating everywhere. It was a hateful thing to do, yet everyone got a big kick out of it.

Ron wasn’t much better; he saw me as nothing more than a source of amusement and a pair of lips. He had Demarcus’s bully streak; Ron thought it was hilarious to make me stay up all night working my ass off, and he’d taunted me because I wouldn’t be getting any sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about the spiteful old bastard snuggled up nice and comfy in bed with his bitch of a wife, while I had to toil through the night.

My self-pity turned to resentment, which emboldened me. Taking a huge chance, I glanced around to ensure nobody was watching before peeling the stockings from my face.

“Fuck those assholes,” I muttered to myself as I rubbed my poor, swollen ankle. “I can take these damn stockings off if I want to. That’ll show them.”

My brave words notwithstanding, I was gripped with fear that someone might come into the garage and see me sitting on my ass. I knew if I got caught taking a break and removing Carla’s nylons from my head without permission, the punishment would be severe.

But since it was so early in the morning, and nobody was likely to be awake at that hour, I took the risk, and the sweet relaxation and glorious breaths of fresh air were worth it. I sat there as long as I dared before it was time to pull my sissy ass together and get back to work. With a sigh, I adjusted the nylons back over my face, struggled to my feet, and resumed cleaning the garage.

By hustling as fast as I possibly could, I managed to complete all my chores by sunrise. I tiptoed into the guest bedroom and retrieved a clean uniform without waking my slumbering masters. Then, I started the morning routine, putting on a pot of coffee, setting cold glasses of water on Pam and Demarcus’ respective nightstands, and kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed, hands clasped behind my back.

I watched them cuddle and snore for a few minutes before they started to stir. That was a relief; sometimes when I’m awaiting the first orders of the day, I’ll kneel there for three hours or more, which makes my knees ache terribly.

Pam opened her eyes first and stretched her arms like a lazy cat, while Demarcus rolled over and yawned. He got out of bed and ambled toward the bathroom, and I pulled myself upright and scurried after him. As usual, he’d already started pissing by the time I made it to the bathroom and knelt near the toilet.

“Good morning, Jody,” he said in a cheerful voice as he continued tinkling. “Did you get all your work done?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get any sleep?”

“N-no, sir.”

Demarcus tittered and kept pissing. When the stream subsided, my master swiveled toward me. “Here, pull up those stockings, Jody,” he said. “I saved a little for ya.”

“T-thank you, sir,” I croaked. As soon as the nylons were over my lips, he shoved his cock in my mouth and emptied his bladder. He had held back quite a bit, and my Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as I expertly swallowed every drop. When he was finished, he pulled his dick out and rubbed it in my hair.

“There’s a good lil’ sissy.” He smirked. “What do you say?”

“Thank you so much, Master, for sharing your wonderful … um, pee with me. I know I’m not worthy of it, sir, so, thank you.”

“Heh, heh, no problem, Jody,” Demarcus replied. Then, without warning, he bitch-slapped me across the face before strolling out of the bathroom chuckling to himself. I knelt next to the unflushed toilet wallowing in misery for several minutes, licking the salty taste of urine from my lips, rubbing my throbbing cheek, and trying to blink away the stars that swirled in my head.

Pam’s shrill voice jolted me from my fog: “Jody! What the hell are you doing? The baby’s wet — get in here and change him!”

Scrambling as quickly as I could, I cleaned up the bathroom and limped toward the guest bedroom, relieved that I’d at least be allowed to remove the stockings from my head while changing Little D’s diaper.

After making quick work of the wet Pampers, I helped my masters get dressed and then followed them down the stairs to the living room, where Carla and Ron relaxed sipping coffee.

As soon as Carla spotted me, her face knotted up. “Pansy, you look disgusting. Why is your face all messed up like that?”

I curtsied and stammered my explanation: “Um, s-sorry, Ma’am, but … well, I put on makeup this morning, but when I pulled the stockings over my face, it got smeared, and then I had to take them off to get Little D ready, and you said to not wear the stockings around him, so I—”

Carla cut me off with a wave of her hand. “Alright, alright, I didn’t ask you to recite the phone book. Now, pull that apron over your face and keep it there. I don’t want to look at you.”

Following yet another curtsey, I adjusted my apron so that it was draped over my head, and stood there to await further orders. I was unable to see but could hear every word of my masters’ conversation, and learned that they planned to spend the day visiting with relatives in Marysville. Because these folks weren’t as open-minded as Carla and Ron, I would be staying behind to do yet more cleaning, since Carla said her ****** probably “freak out” if they saw a sissy like me. As exhausted as I was, I was relieved that I’d be spending the day alone.

My masters relaxed and enjoyed their morning coffee for several more minutes until Carla announced she was ready to start making her special biscuits and gravy. From beneath my apron, I heard Ron say, “While you’re cooking, I’ll go see how the sissy did out in the garage. Come on, Jody.”

I pulled my apron from my face and followed Ron through the kitchen and into the garage. As soon as the door closed, he pointed at the ground in front of him.

“Kneel here, sissy,” he said with a leer.

As soon as I got into position, Ron shoved his big dick in my mouth and started pissing. “Been saving this for ya,” he taunted as I worked my throat muscles up and down to accommodate the acrid flood.

When my tormenter finished urinating, he tucked his dick back into his lounge pants and ruffled my hair. “Sorry to disappoint you, cupcake, but we’re gonna hold off on a blowjob for now,” he said. “We don’t want Mama to get suspicious by being out here too long, now, do we?”

“Um, no, sir.” I worked my tongue around my mouth, trying to dispel the taste of piss.

Ron surveyed the gleaming garage. “Looks good, sissy. Is my truck detailed?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you get any sleep?”

I bowed my head. “N-no, sir.”

He snickered. “Poor sissy. Life just ain’t fair, is it?”

Blinking my eyes, I tried to think of something to say — but before any words came out, Ron grabbed my hair, yanked me to my feet, and slapped the shit out of me.

“The garage looks good, Jody,” he said as he opened the door to the kitchen, where Carla was busy at the stove. “Now, go get that special lotion — I want one of them foot rubs while I’m waiting for breakfast.”

I responded, “Yes, sir, right away, sir,” although my inner voice spat, “What a fucking asshole. Like father, like son.”




I SHUFFLED INTO THE LIVING ROOM, wincing with every step. My masters were chilling and laughing about something, and they seemed quite comfortable, in sharp contrast to my wretched condition. I hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, having been up all night furiously trying to finish my chores with a severely sprained ankle and three layers of nylons stifling every breath.

It was all I could do to stay upright as I curtsied and asked for permission to speak. Demarcus nodded, and I reported that I’d checked all the fluids in the SUV and that everything was ready for their trip to Marysville. When I finished giving my master the update, I yawned loudly, despite my efforts to suppress it.

“What’s wrong, sissy?” my master asked with an amused twinkle in his eye. “You tired?”

“N-no, sir, no, I’m fine, sir,” I stammered, petrified about what might happen if Demarcus or Pam knew how drained I was.

My fears came to life when my master clucked his tongue and said, “Nope, I think you need a little pick-me-up, sissy. You‘ve still got a shitload of work to do, and I won’t have you embarrassing me in front of my parents by walking around here like a damned zombie. We’re leaving for home tomorrow and I want everything done by then. Now, go get your pills.”

I was crestfallen, but I swallowed my disappointment, executed a proper curtsey, and peeped “Yes, sir,”

“Pills?” Ron cocked his head. “What pills?”

Pam sipped her coffee. “Well, sometimes your son makes him stay up for two or three days in a row working. Jody doesn’t get much sleep anyway with Little D always needing changing.” My wife playfully tapped Demarcus on the arm. “So, this mean thing makes the little sissy eat a whole bunch of caffeine pills.”

Ron snorted. “OMG, that’s hilarious! How many pills is a whole bunch?”

Demarcus leaned back on the couch and sneered at me. “I dunno, sissy, how many do I usually make you take? Seven? Eight?”

I curtsied. “Y-yes, sir.”

“You don’t like them pills too much, do you, Jody?”

“N-no, sir.”

“Well, I don’t care.” My master sucked his teeth. “I won’t be having my maid walking around acting all tired. It’s a bad look, Jody. You need pep in your step, if you’re gonna serve me and my ****** the way I want.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I don’t care how bad you hate them pills I like making you do shit you hate. It’s funny.”

“Yes, sir.” As a precaution, I threw in, “T-thank you, sir.”

“What’s so bad about the pills?” Ron asked.

“Seven or eight caffeine pills?” Carla shook her head. “That must feel terrible.”

“Tell my Pops why you hate ‘em, sissy,” Demarcus instructed.

I turned to the smirking Ron and curtsied. “Um, sir, they … they give me real bad headaches, and my heart beats real fast.” I glanced at Carla. “Uh, and they make me sweat real bad, too.”

Carla waved her hand. “Oh, no, you don’t! Go get another pair of nylons from the trunk — you ain’t gonna be sweating all over MY house.”

After I curtsied to acknowledge the hateful, old bitch’s order, I trudged to the mudroom, fished another pair of her old nylons from the trunk, and pulled them over my face. I couldn’t see. Three layers of nylons had been bad enough, and it had been a chore to peer through the material — but now, I was damn near blind.

I inched my way back to the living room and curtsied. “P-permission to speak?”

Damarcus gave his usual answer: “Speak, sissy.”

I curtsied again. “Um, sir, I’m sorry, but, uh, I can’t see now with this extra pair of, um, stockings covering my eyes.”

After everyone’s laughter subsided, Pam said, “Just tear some eyeholes out.”

“And you better leave them on your head while we’re gone, sissy,” Demarcus added as I dug my fingernails into the nylons to scrape out a pair of peepholes. “Have you taken ‘em off at all since yesterday?”

My blood froze. I knew I couldn’t lie to my master.

“Um, sir, I … yes, sir, when I fell last night and couldn’t breathe, sir.”

“What do you mean, you fell?”

“I. I …” The front of the stockings grew wet with the tears that flowed from my now-naked eyes. “Sir, I’m sorry. I was completely exhausted, and I collapsed in the garage, and—”

The room erupted with another round of laughter.

“You collapsed because you were exhausted?” My master leered. “Sounds to me like someone needs their vitamins.”

Carla frowned at me. “I still don’t see why you had to take those stockings off when I specifically told you to keep them on,” she said. “What about falling meant you had to disobey me and take those stockings off your head?”

“I … I … please, Ma’am, I …”

“QUIET, SISSY!” Demarcus screamed, causing me to jump. “YOU DON’T TALK BACK TO MY MOM.”

My master’s voice caused the baby to wake up in his crib, and the little one started wailing.

Pam huffed. “Go keep him quiet, Jody, damn it. It’s your fault your master had to yell at you. That’s two more months.”

The blood drained from my face. “Oh, please, Mistress, I …”

“GO!” my wife pointed at the crib. “And now, make it three months for talking back. You just keep running your mouth.”

“Three months of what?” Carla asked.

Demarcus and Pam exchanged glances. As I bounced their crying baby in my arms, I watched my masters maintain eye contact for several seconds, before Demarcus cleared his throat.

“Ma, we haven’t told you all the intimate details of what we do in the bedroom — because why would we?”

Carla’s face knotted up. “Uh oh, what are you trying to tell me? Are you saying you have sex with this … thing? Are you gay, son?”

Demarcus threw his head back and cracked up. “No, Ma, I’m not gay! It’s just that … well, we keep Jody in a chastity device. We just didn’t want to tell you about stuff like that, so you wouldn’t think we’re ******** Little D to anything weird. We keep all this stuff away from him, I promise.”

“Er ... what’s a chastity device?” Carla asked while Ron sat in his chair chuckling. I suspected he was a lot less naïve than his wife, and knew exactly what I had on beneath my panties.

Demarcus squirmed. “Well, Ma, it’s basically what it says — it’s a device he wears on his … you know. We had his … um, penis pierced with a ring, so he can never take it off unless we unlock it.”

Ron chortled. “Dang, that’s cold. So the little sissy never gets a grunt?”

“Well, as an incentive to serve us better, we let him out once a month if he doesn’t screw up,” Pam explained. “But now, he’s just bought himself three more months. And it’s already been … how long, Jody?”

I curtsied. “Um, seven months, Mistress.”

“He keeps screwing up.” Pam’s eyes danced. “Then again, sometimes I’ll add a month just to be a bitch. I did that a few weeks ago, didn’t I, Jody?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Tell Carla and Ron why I did it.”

I turned to the elderly couple and curtsied. “Um, my mistress told me I needed to be punished for not telling her how much of a sissy I was when I married her.”

“But I thought you said Demarcus turned him into a sissy,” Ron said to my wife.

Pam scoffed. “No, I think your son just brought out the sissy in him. So, I added another month. Just to be a bitch.”

Everyone thought that was hilarious.

“You want to see his cage, Ma?” Demarcus asked.

Carla crinkled her nose. “Oh, Gawd, no. Seeing that thing would give me nightmares.” Her eyes hardened. “But I do want to address why this little sissy disobeyed me by taking those danged stockings off his head.” She turned to me. “Didn’t I SPECIFICALLY tell you I wanted you wearing them the whole time you were here unless you were around Little D?”

I curtsied the best I could while still holding the now-calm baby. “Yes, you did, Ma’am, but when I fell, I was having a hard time breathing, and I—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Carla cut me off. “You disobeyed me.”

“You want to punish him, Ma?” Demarcus smiled. “Hit him with your shoe, the way you did me.”

“Oh, I only did that the one time when you skipped school in the fourth grade; you were a good kid,” Carla said. She stared at me. “But that doesn’t sound like a bad idea. We’ve still got a little time before we have to leave. Sissy! Go in the mudroom; there’s an old pair of suede heels; bring one of them here.”

I muttered to myself, “that fucking mudroom again,” as I limped as quickly as I could to obey my master’s old bitch of a mom.

After I handed Carla the shoe, she rose from her recliner. “I don’t want to disturb the baby; let’s go to the garage.”

“Ooh, I want to watch,” Ron piped in. “Old woman, you’re making me horny, acting all haughty with this little sissy.”

“I want to see, too,” Demarcus said.

“I’ll stay here with the baby,” Pam offered, before telling Carla, “Get him good, Ma.”

“Oh, I will, believe me,” Carla replied as she led the entourage into the garage, tapping the shoe against her thigh in time with each step she took.

I was last in line, and when I turned to close the garage door, I saw my mistress on the couch, touching noses with Little D and giggling, completely oblivious to me and my pitiful troubles.

Closing the door, I hobbled into the garage crying my sissy little eyes out.




WITH AN EXHAUSTED SIGH, I finished polishing the final eyelet on Ron’s wing-tipped shoe before carefully replacing the laces, making sure there were no kinks and that the aglets perfectly lined up. Every inch of the size 13 Oxford gleamed like its counterpart and the rest of Ron’s footwear collection, meaning I was finally done with my chores.

I’d been working nonstop since the previous morning, and the only thing keeping me upright was the electric buzz from the eight caffeine pills Demarcus had forced me to swallow before the ****** left for Marysville earlier that day. My heart and temples pounded furiously from those damned pills, which made me itchy all over and left my mouth dry as a bone.

The ball gag didn’t help.

I was a mess from head to toe, and even though the pills forced me to stay awake, I was dead on my feet. My ass-cheeks burned from Carla’s earlier punishment, during which she’d thrashed me with the heel of her shoe too many times to count, while Ron and Demarcus cheered her on. My damaged ankle was killing me; since I’d been putting weight on it without rest, it was misshapen and purple, with bruises running halfway up my leg. Every muscle in my body ached from repeating the “wax on-wax off” maneuver for hours on end. My uniform was drenched with sweat.

The ball gag didn’t help.

Before my masters had left to visit relatives, they’d given me instructions that were designed to make me miserable. One of the edicts, handed down by my wife, was that I kneel in the foyer with my hands clasped behind my back to await their return when I was finished with my assigned tasks.

As I knelt there, I had nothing but time to contemplate my plight, and to wallow in resentment as I reflected on the mean-spirted rules my masters had imposed on me. To ensure I wouldn’t remove the stockings from my head again, just before everyone left the house, Demarcus had told me to go into the suitcase and get my punishment hood. My master’s order made Pam giggle because she knew how fervently I hated the cursed heavy leather contraption with a built-in ball gag. The hood and gag were fitted over the stockings and the padlock secured, leaving me to breathe through my nose. Every breath was a chore, and with my heart beating so fast from the caffeine pills, I felt I was on the verge of a stroke as I busted my ass to get my work done.

I wasn’t allowed to use the toilet; Carla had said she didn’t want me ‘spreading my germs,’ so I was forced to hobble to the woods behind the backyard whenever nature called. Since the house Demarcus had purchased for his parents was in a secluded area, at least I wasn’t worried about being seen limping into the brush wearing a sweaty maid’s dress with four pairs of stockings and a leather hood on my head, with a ball gag stuffed in my mouth. But it was still a pain, especially since I had to walk a few hundred yards on what I feared was a broken ankle, when I could’ve easily just used the guest bathroom, had Carla not been such a bitch.

After the old biddy imposed her malicious rule, Ron hugged her from behind and told me to use leaves if I did a Number Two because he said I wasn’t worth wasting even a few sheets of toilet paper. The elderly couple laughed at the pitiful look in my eyes as I curtsied and thanked them.

Ron got a huge kick out of the way Carla was treating me. He seemed amused to see this kindly, churchgoing woman become so uncharacteristically mean — but it also turned him on like crazy. When we’d first arrived at Demarcus’ parents’ home, Carla had been nice to me, expressing concern that I had to stand there on the porch holding the heavy suitcases while everyone chatted. But her compassion quickly evaporated when she saw how mousy I was, and how I instantly obeyed every order. I was sure my gender identity also played a part in how passionately the old woman seemed to despise me. To her, I was a freak of nature. Although she certainly was old-fashioned, I don’t think my transgenderism was what fueled her spite; it was the fact that I’d allowed Demarcus to turn me into a sissy. She’d said several times how my weakness ‘brought out the devil’ in her. She just couldn’t understand how someone would allow themself to be treated so badly, but she figured if I was going to put up with it, she might as well dish it out.

Her horny old goat of a husband loved it. After Carla whipped me to a blubbering mess with her shoe, Ron pinched his wife’s ass and said, “That bad back of yours ain’t too bad for me to get a little lovin’ when we get home tonight, woman,” to which she squealed in delight. Demarcus jokingly told his parents he didn’t want to hear that nonsense from them, and the happy ****** filed out of the garage, leaving me to pull up my panties and limp after them to see them off on their trip with tears in my eyes.

When we got back to the living room, Demarcus ordered me to run upstairs and fetch my punishment hood. Then, Pam, Carla, and Ron laid down their fucked-up rules before they all paraded off to enjoy a leisurely ****** outing, leaving me to work like a dog under deplorable conditions.

But, like a sap, all I could think about after they left was how much I adored my beloved Pamela, and how being away from her, even for a short period, poisoned my heart, which I why I endured the constant abuse.

Like a sap, I sniffed the air in the foyer after they left, pathetically trying to catch a whiff of my wife’s perfume — the same fragrance she’d chosen for our wedding.

Hours later, as I knelt in the same spot, I worked my nostrils again like a sap, detecting a hint of Christian Dior.

There was a clock on the foyer wall, which made my wait seem even longer. I knelt there for six hours before the front door opened just after midnight.

Bracing for the worst, I lowered my eyes as my masters entered the house.

My wife offered me Little D as she whispered, “Put him in his crib and be quiet.”

I climbed to my feet and carefully took the slumbering baby from Pam’s arms before tiptoeing up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. As I was swaddling Little D in blankets, my masters entered the room and plopped on the bed. I turned and curtsied to them, praying they would open the lock so I could remove the terrible punishment hood and ball gag.

No such luck. Pam just yawned and whispered, “Help me get out of these clothes, Jody, but turn off the light first.”

Within a few minutes, Pam and Demarcus were snuggling on the soft, comfortable bed, tuckered out from their long day of relaxing with relatives, while I curled up on the floor nearby, trying to get comfortable in my Dora the Explorer sleeping bag. My heart and temples still pounded from having ingested four times the recommended dosage of caffeine pills, and I knew it would be several hours before my buzz died down. With the ball gag still stuffed in my mouth, it took all my strength to silently suck in breaths through my nose so I wouldn’t disturb my sleeping masters.

There would be no sleep for poor little Jody.

I reached down and rubbed my throbbing ankle. It hurt so horribly, that I cried even harder, and I had to turn my head sideways so my tears wouldn’t run into my nose and drown me.




SPARROWS CHIRPED outside the guest bedroom window, taunting me with their cheerful fucking tweets as I knelt at the foot of my master’s bed oozing resentment from every pore. The birds were free to sing, which was more than I could say for myself.

Peering through the dawn’s early light, I beheld my angelic wife’s rhythmic, feminine snoring, and tried to remember how it felt to ingest air like a normal person. For two days, seemingly an eternity, I’d been made to wear three, and then four pairs of stockings over my head, all because Carla was such a monumental bitch. Her spiteful edict had made breathing difficult enough, but after Demarcus locked me in my punishment hood with the ball gag, I’d been forced to breathe through my nose — no small feat with my face covered by layers of suffocating nylon.

My jaws ached beyond belief, and I was dehydrated since I’d been sweating like crazy and unable to drink anything. For the zillionth time, I worked my sore tongue around the rubber ball to try to stimulate some saliva, but couldn’t coax a drop.

As minutes ticked into hours, anger churned in my belly at the thought of how everyone had been so unnecessarily cruel to me. My only ‘crime’ had been to briefly remove the stockings from my face after collapsing from exhaustion following hours of nonstop, backbreaking work. There was no good reason for Carla to have ordered me to wear the damned things in the first place. All I’d done, from the time I’d met her, was to be sweetly compliant. But it wasn’t long before she took the cue from my masters and unleashed her inner bully, and, as was the case with Pam and Demarcus, the harder I tried to please the old cunt, the worse she dogged me. The same went for her asshole of a husband, who’d treated me like shit from the start.

I inched my index finger into the hood’s eyehole and brushed away a tear while trying to concentrate on something other than the shitty cards I’d been dealt. That was impossible. Life was so damned unfair — how was I supposed to just push that out of my mind as I knelt there watching my darling Pamela snuggling with the brute who had ruined everything?

So unfair. My masters looked nice and peaceful in their golden slumber; I hadn’t slept a fucking wink, thanks to those terrible caffeine pills keeping me up all night. The buzz didn’t wear off until just before dawn, ensuring I wouldn’t get even a few precious seconds of sleep, since by the time I was able to close my eyes, I had to get cracking on the morning routine. The thought of the pills made me sick to my stomach, and as dog-tired as I was, I vowed to avoid yawning after my masters awoke, so I wouldn’t be prescribed yet another dose. No matter what, I would force myself to be a happy, peppy little sissy.

I glanced at the crib, where Little D was curled up in a blanket, and I seethed with jealousy. I felt embarrassed at being envious of a baby, but I couldn’t help it. He got to sleep on a nice, soft mattress, with pillows and a blanket — luxuries I hadn’t enjoyed in ages. Everyone was nice to HIM and wanted nothing but the very best for him, whereas everyone hated me, and purposely made my life miserable.

Although he had no way of knowing it, Little D was the living personification of all my weaknesses, showing me and the rest of the world what a lovesick fool I was for putting up with unthinkable abuse, just to be close to my wife. I knew it was wrong to harbor ill feelings toward the kid since his parents and grandparents were responsible for my torment. Demarcus Junior was an innocent baby, and on a logical level, I realized that I shouldn’t resent him.

Emotionally? Different story.

Pam was MY bride. She was supposed to be having children with ME. According to the laws of nature, I was supposed to spread MY gene pool, since procreation is supposedly the number one driving instinct of all living creatures.

Other than for losers like me, I lamented as I gazed across the room at the queen-sized guest bed, where Demarcus had his arm draped over Pam’s shoulder. As much as it pained me, I had to admit they looked perfect together. They’d conceived a perfect son. I took inventory of my lowly position, kneeling on the floor in a maid’s dress, with my head covered in nylons and a punishment hood, a ball gag stuffed in my mouth, and a spiked chastity cage entombing my penis. Faced with that stark reality, I had to agree with my mistress’s oft-repeated assessment that a sissy like me didn’t deserve to breed.

And so, because I was such a lovesick sap who couldn’t function without Pam in my life — and because my wife and her lover were cruel to the core — I was stuck being their love child’s transgendered nanny, whose job was to change shitty diapers with a smile. My masters had made it abundantly clear that when Little D got older, I was to treat him like I treated them, as someone who outranked me on the food chain, whose orders were to be obeyed without question.

Demarcus and Pam had also stressed several times that they didn’t want their son or any other children they had in the future ******* to anything inappropriate. I was simply to serve as the ******’s loyal maid, and their kids would grow up to take my service for granted because they would be taught that they were better than me. I was certain Little D had inherited the asshole gene Ronald and Carla had passed down to Demarcus, and that the little prick was going to be a handful when he got older.

Little D had caused me problems since before he was born. He was the reason my ****** had disowned me. I recalled phoning my *** and trying to explain that Pam and I were in a poly relationship, that she was pregnant, and that the biological father was black. *** bellowed “Ain’t no little n____ baby gonna be no grandson of mine!” and hung up. A few seconds later, I got a text from my mother telling me nobody in the ****** wanted to speak to me again. By the time I’d composed and texted my reply, Mom had blocked me. And that was that — I no longer had a ******, other than the one I served.

It was hard not resenting Little D for all that — especially the times when I’d be changing the shitty diaper of a kid who wasn’t mine, while his mother, my wife, chilled on the couch with her baby daddy, busting my balls about not getting there fast enough, or some other minor infraction she’d blown out of proportion.

I knelt in the guest bedroom contemplating my sorry existence for about three hours before my masters finally stirred. Pam snickered when she saw that I still wore the punishment hood.

“I bet you won’t disobey another order anytime soon, huh, Jody?”

I shook my head.

Demarcus took a long drink of water from the glass I’d left on his nightstand. When he saw me gazing longingly at the crystal liquid, he sneered.

“What’s wrong, sissy? Thirsty?”

I nodded furiously.

He took another drink and smacked his lips. “Ahhhh,” he sighed overdramatically.

Pam giggled.

“Poor Jody.” She smirked and held up her glass of water as if to say ‘cheers.’

“This is what you get when you embarrass us, sissy.” Locking eyes with me, my wife took a long drink and set the half-empty glass on her nightstand.



Demarcus rolled out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. I rose from my knees and had a difficult time hobbling after him, since my legs were numb from kneeling in the same position for so long, on top of my bad ankle and sore feet.

When I got to the bathroom, I was surprised that my master hadn’t started pissing as usual.

“I ain’t got time to unlock you — I got to go.” He pointed at the tub. “Take off that dress right quick, and then lay down in there.”

Within a few seconds, I lay in the bathtub wearing nothing other than my chastity cage and hood. Even though I knew what was coming, it was still a shock when the hot stream stabbed me in the eyes, soaking the inside of my hood. Piss got in my nose, and I bucked back and forth trying to breathe, which amused my master.

“Don’t worry, sissy — I ain’t gonna drown you. Who would do all my dirty work?” He shook the last few drops in my eyes. As I blinked in the acid rain, he tucked his cock back in his lounging pants and waved his hand at the yellow puddle in the tub. “Clean this shit up, Jody, and hurry up, because baby girl’s gonna want to get in here.”

Since I couldn’t say, “Yes, sir,” with the ball gag in my mouth, I nodded as my master sauntered from the room.

I was able to tidy up and get dressed within a few minutes, although the inside of my hood was still soaked with urine. Luckily, the baby needed changing, so while Pam was busy in the bathroom, my master threw me the key and told me to remove the hood. When I finally pulled it off, he clucked his tongue.

“Jeez, Jody, you look like you just sucked off the Kansas City Chiefs. Your face is a mess.”

“S-sorry, sir,” I croaked, barely able to talk after having had the ball gag in my mouth for so long.

Demarcus nodded at his son. “Well, get him changed, and then I guess I’ll wear my blue sweatpants with the stripe and that Celtics jersey.”

Pam drifted into the room while I was putting a new diaper on her son. She frowned at me. “You look disgusting, you know that?”

“S-sorry, Mistress.”

When the baby’s pissy diaper was changed, I was ordered to dress him and my masters. After everyone was situated, I clasped my hands together.

“Permission to speak?”

Pam cocked her head. “What?”

“Um, I … please, can I have something to drink, please?”

Demarcus smirked. “You ever gonna disobey my mom and embarrass us like that?”

I curtsied twice. “Oh, no, sir, no, I’m so sorry, sir, I’ll never—”

He held up his hand. “Never mind, sissy. I’m in a good mood — so go ahead and get you a drink.”

My face lit up until my master added: “Out of the toilet.”

Pam snorted.

With a gulp, I stammered, “I, um, thank you, sir. Is it okay if I do it now?”

“Sure, sissy,” Demarus smirked. “Gone and get you a drink. Get as much as you want. Like I said, I’m in a good mood.”

“T-thank you, sir.”

I felt like the world’s biggest fucking loser as I lowered my head into the toilet and drank like a dog while my sneering wife and her evil lover watched from the doorway.

When I’d had my fill, I looked up at my master for direction.

Pam’s lip curled. “Hurry up and put on some makeup — you look like shit, Jody,” she spat. “And then bring the baby downstairs.”

With that, my wife and her lover walked away hand-in-hand.

“Be sure to pull your apron over your head,” Demarcus called over his shoulder. “You’ll need to peek over the top or something, but figure it out — my mom can’t stand looking at your little sissy ass.”

I was still on my knees in front of the commode, and when I tried to get up to carry out my orders, I slumped forward, overcome by sobbing convulsions. I couldn’t move, so I just hung my head and cried into the toilet, watching the water ripple from the teardrops.


STRAINING EVEY MUSCLE in my body, I tried to pull myself upright, but for the dozenth time, I collapsed in a sobbing heap at the base of the toilet.

I was in the midst of a full-blown panic attack that got worse when my wife’s annoyed shriek cut through the haze: “Jody! What the HELL are you doing up there?”

An agonized moan was my only reply since I couldn’t muster the strength to formulate words, let alone holler loud enough for anyone to hear me downstairs.

A few seconds later, my master’s heavy footsteps pounded up the stairwell and toward the master suite. His growl from the bathroom doorway made me flinch.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, sissy?”

My teeth chattered as I tried to answer him. “Buh-buh-buh-buh,” was all I was able to get out.

When Demarcus didn’t reply, I turned to see that he’d retreated to the bedroom, where he lifted his son from the crib. I heard my master go downstairs before ascending the steps a second time. He strode toward me and I clung to the commode, my entire body convulsing.

My master stood silently over me with his hands on his hips. Several seconds passed, and it felt like he was staring laser beams through me.

“Aw,” he finally cooed. “Poor little sissy. Did we break you?”

“I-I-buh-buh-buh-buh-BUH—”

In the middle of my nonsensical response, Demarcus reached down and scooped me from the floor like I weighed half a pound. Cradling me in his muscular arms, he carried me to the smaller guest bedroom across the corridor and set me on the bed. I cowered, expecting him to do something bad to offset the good deed.

But he surprised me by gently stroking my hair. “It’s okay, just relax,” he said in a soothing tone that brought more tears to my eyes. “I don’t want to ruin you, sissy — I’ve gotten used to having a slave around, and I’d hate to have to train a new one all over again. So, you need to get better. Okay?”

Unable to reply, I rubbed my tear-stained cheek and nodded.

Demarcus lifted his hand from my hair and wiped it on his pant leg. “Take a nap, Jody. We’re going to brunch with some old friends of the ****** I haven’t seen in years. Then we’re going back to their place. We’ll be gone a while, so, rest up — because I expect my little bitch to be ready to serve when we get back. Got it?”

I sniffled and nodded again.

“Good sissy,” my master said as he turned and walked away. I conked out by the time he left the room.


I wore a crisp, clean uniform with my apron pulled over my face as I knelt in the foyer awaiting my master’s return. I’d enjoyed the unbelievable luxury of sleeping on an actual mattress for about six hours before jolting awake, overcome by the fear that I’d done something wrong. It took a few seconds to recall that Demarcus had put me on the bed and that he’d permitted me to rest.

I badly wanted to curl up and go back to sleep on that glorious twin-sized bed, but even though my master had allowed me to recover from my grueling ordeal of the past few days, I knew it wouldn’t be a good look if the ****** came home to find me lounging around. So, I figured since all my chores were finished, I’d do some brown-nosing and kneel in the foyer to greet them like a good slave when they returned from their outing.

Several times as I knelt there, I told myself, “Master is going to be so proud when he sees me with my apron over my face the way his mom likes without anyone telling me to.” Those thoughts were followed by waves of self-hatred. I’d become such a kiss-ass, always looking for ways to please the smug sonofabitch — and for what? Demarcus didn’t care about me; he wanted me healthy so could continue to exploit and humiliate me. He’d said himself that he didn’t want to have to train a new slave. That’s all I was to him — and my darling Pamela. A slave. A sissy. A maid. Someone to be used. Mocked. Pissed on.

And then, being a wishy-washy sissy, I’d second-guess myself and wonder whether my master did care for me if only just a little. Or, at the very least, I figured he wanted me in his life, even if it was just to have a doormat he could kick around — and that was certainly worth something since it made my beloved Pam happy, and allowed me to be near her.

I knelt there with my brain bouncing back and forth for about an hour before the front door finally creaked open.

Pam pushed Little D my way. “He needs changing,” she said while the rest of the ****** filed past me into the living room.

After rising and accepting the baby from my wife, I felt a little disappointed that nobody had acknowledged the fact that I’d greeted them humbly, with my face covered the way Carla preferred. Then, as I changed Little D’s wet diaper, I scoffed at myself. What did I expect — a goddamn parade?

When the baby was fresh, I started to hand him to his mother, but Carla asked Pam, “Since you guys are leaving soon, do you mind if I hold him for a while before you go?”

“No, of course not, Ma,” Pam answered with a smile.

After I set Little D on Carla’s lap, she pushed the button that activated her recliner’s footstool.

“I want one last foot massage before you leave, Jody.”

I curtsied and limped up the stairs to get the lotion. As I hobbled back, Demarcus smacked his lips.

“That ankle hurts pretty bad, huh?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Following my master’s earlier act of kindness, I half-expected sympathy. But he surprised me by sneering and saying, “Good. I’m glad it hurts. I want you to hurt — goddamn little sissy.”

Everyone chuckled as I got busy on Carla’s foot rub, and I realized with 100% certainty that my master didn’t give a shit about me.

Carla kept the baby on her lap and me at her feet for nearly two hours, and then it was time for us to hit the road. I lugged the suitcases I’d packed earlier to the SUV and then stood in the foyer with my head bowed while the ****** hugged and said goodbye.

When the hugs were done, Carla turned to me.

“You’re something else, you know that, Jody? I’m glad I met you.”

I curtsied. “Um, uh, thank you, Ma’am.”

Carla glanced at Little D. “Come with me for a second, sissy — I don’t want to do this in front of the baby.”

I followed her to the living room. As soon as we turned the corner, the old bitch slapped the living shit out of me, and her gaudy ring nipped the end of my nose.

“Dang, woman, that sounded like it hurt,” Ronald called mirthfully from the next room.

Carla led me back to the foyer. My wife scowled.

“Your nose is bleeding, Jody,” she spat. “Go get some toilet paper — I don’t want you bleeding all over the damn place.”

I curtsied and hurried to the nearby half-bath, where I unrolled a measure of toilet tissue. When I got back to the foyer pressing the wad against my nose, Ron shook his head.

“Didn’t I tell you I didn’t want to be wasting toilet paper on your sissy ass?” he demanded with an amused twinkle in his eye. “I guess you’ll have to pay me back next time you come up here.”

“Y-yes, sir, sorry, sir,” I replied with a polite curtsey.

Pam and Demarcus exchanged one last hug with the elderly couple before strolling out of the house with me at their heels. I put the baby in the car seat and slipped into the SUV next to him, while my masters got settled in up front.

Pam sighed. “That went well, I think.”

“A lot better than I’d hoped,” Demarcus replied before eyeing me through the rearview mirror. “You did good, Jody. Not only was my mom not freaked out by you, but she loved having a slave around.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, my sissified chest swelling with pride.

He chuckled. “Boy, you sure brought out the worst in her, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered before venturing a comment: “I’m glad I was able to serve your mother the way … um, the way I serve you guys.”

Demarcus sniffed. “Not quite like you serve us — but who knows? Maybe next time, Mom will have you drinking her pee. Pops told me he did that in the garage. Pissed in your mouth?”

“Um, yes, sir. It was an honor, sir.”

My master smirked at my wife and put the SUV in drive. “Yeah, you done good, sissy.”

Pam turned on the radio, and I was barred from further conversation.

I didn’t care. Despite every terrible thing that had happened to me during our visit with Little D’s grandparents, I was in a good mood all the way home.