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Bill’s grip on Wendy’s hips tightened, his fingers digging into her tanned flesh as his rhythm became erratic, driven by the final, desperate need for release. Wendy threw her head back, her emerald bikini bottoms the only shred of clothing left on her body, and cried out as her orgasm tore through her. Her inner muscles clamped down around Bill’s thrusting cock, milking him for every drop. With a guttural groan, Bill buried himself deep inside her, his body shuddering as he pumped her full of his seed. The room filled with the heavy scent of sex and sweat, the sound of their ragged breathing drowning out Brian’s quiet sobs.
For a long moment, the only movement was the heaving of their chests. Then, Wendy slowly pulled herself away from Bill, a thick string of cum connecting her pussy to his softening dick before it broke and dripped onto the white duvet. She turned over, sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs spread wide, revealing the messy, creampie result of their coupling. She looked down at Brian, who still knelt on the hard tiled floor, his head bowed, his face streaked with tears.
“Look at this mess, Brian,” Wendy said, her voice husky but commanding. She pointed a manicured finger at her glistening, used pussy. “You made this happen by being so pathetic. Now, you’re going to clean it up.”
Brian’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with horror. “Wendy, I… I can’t,” he stammered, his voice cracking.
“You can, and you will,” Bill interjected, swinging his legs off the bed and standing up. He loomed over Brian, his spent cock still glistening with Wendy’s juices. He grabbed a fistful of Brian’s hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to look up. “Get over there and worship her body like the good little sissy toy you are. Use your mouth. Every drop.”
Wendy leaned back on her hands, thrusting her hips forward slightly. “Lick us clean, Brian. Show Bill how much you appreciate him taking care of me since you can’t.”
Trembling, Brian shuffled forward on his knees. The humiliation burned through him, hotter than the pain in his groin, but he knew there was no refusing them. He leaned in, the smell of their sex overpowering—musky, salty, and undeniably raw. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before Bill kicked him lightly in the side.
“Do it,” Bill commanded.
Brian closed his eyes and extended his tongue. The first taste was shocking—a mixture of Bill’s bitter cum and Wendy’s sweet arousal. He lapped tentatively at her folds, feeling the sticky fluid coat his lips. Wendy gasped, a sound of mixed pleasure and mockery, and reached down to hold his head against her.
“That’s it,” she moaned, grinding her hips against his face. “Clean your husband’s cum out of me. Swallow it all.”
Brian worked his tongue deeper, the act of servitude breaking down the last remnants of his resistance. He swallowed the thick load, his throat working convulsively. When he had cleaned Wendy as thoroughly as he could, she pushed him away. He fell back on his heels, breathless and humiliated.
“Now me,” Bill said, stepping forward. He stood with his legs apart, pointing to his semi-hard cock, which was coated in a sheen of fluids. “I’m still dirty, sissy. Get me hard again.”
Brian stared at the organ that had just dominated his wife, the sheer size of it intimidating. He crawled to Bill and took the shaft into his hands. It felt heavy and hot. He leaned forward and ran his tongue along the underside, tasting the tang of their combined essence. He opened his mouth wide, taking the head inside, sucking gently to clean every inch. Bill sighed, resting a hand on Brian’s head, not guiding him, just possessing him.
“Look at him,” Bill laughed, glancing at Wendy. “He takes to cock like a natural. Maybe he was never meant to be a man at all.”
Wendy watched, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “You’re right. He looks much better on his knees, don’t you think? A pathetic little thing like him doesn’t deserve to wear men’s clothes.”
Bill pulled his cock out of Brian’s mouth with a wet pop. He looked down at the submissive man, assessing him like a piece of livestock. “He’s too soft. Too weak. If he’s going to be our toy, he needs to look the part.”
Brian looked up, confusion and fear warring in his eyes. “What… what do you mean?”
“I mean,” Bill said, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “we should feminize you.?? strip you of that masculinity you never really had.”
Wendy sat up, her eyes gleaming with excitement at the prospect. “Yes! That’s perfect. He’s not a man, Brian. You heard him say it. You’re nothing. A sissy girl.” She stood up and walked over to the wardrobe, throwing the doors open. “I have so many things that would fit you. Dresses, skirts… panties.”
Brian shook his head frantically. “No, please, Wendy. I can’t wear that.”
“You can, and you will,” Wendy snapped, pulling out a short, floral sundress. She tossed it onto the bed next to a pair of lacy pink panties. “You’re going to put these on. You’re going to be our little maid, our little slut. From now on, when you’re in this room, you aren’t Brian. You’re just a plaything for us to dress up and use.”
Bill grinned, enjoying the terror in Brian’s eyes. “It’s only fitting, isn’t it? A sissy cuckold like you needs to be in panties. It reminds you of your place. You don’t have a cock anymore; you have a useless little clit that needs to be hidden away.”
“Put them on, Brian,” Wendy ordered, pointing to the bed. “Now. Or Bill will make you put them on, and I promise you, he won’t be gentle about it.”
The threat hung heavy in the air. Brian slowly stood up, his legs shaking. He reached for the lacy panties, the fabric delicate and feminine in his rough hands. He looked at Wendy, hoping for a reprieve, but found only cold anticipation. He looked at Bill and saw a predator enjoying the hunt.
With a sob of defeat, Brian hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his swim trunks and pushed them down. He stepped out of them, his own flaccid cock shriveled and small in comparison to Bill’s. He picked up the panties and stepped into them, pulling them up his legs. The lace dug into his skin, a constant, ticklish reminder of his emasculation. His bulge was clearly visible, pathetic and contained.
“The dress,” Bill prompted.
Brian picked up the floral sundress. It was light and airy, smelling of Wendy’s perfume. He pulled it over his head. It fell to mid-thigh, the fabric swishing against his legs. It felt foreign and exposing.
Wendy circled him, inspecting him like a doll. “Turn around,” she commanded. Brian obeyed slowly. “It fits perfectly. He looks almost pretty, doesn’t he? In a tragic sort of way.”
“He looks like a bitch,” Bill corrected, stepping up behind Brian and smacking him hard on the ass through the thin fabric of the dress. Brian yelped and stumbled forward. “That’s your new uniform, sissy. Whenever we want, you put on the dress. You understand? You aren’t a man anymore. You’re just Wendy’s little dress-up doll.”
Brian stood there, humiliated beyond belief, wearing his wife’s clothes while her lover looked on with amusement. He nodded, his head hanging low. “Yes,” he whispered.
“Yes, what?” Wendy demanded, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at her.
“Yes… I’m a sissy girl. I’m not a man.”
“Good,” Wendy patted his cheek, condescendingly sweet. “Now, go fix us a drink. And try not to waddle too much in those heels you aren’t wearing yet.”
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