Mounded 1

The first time I saw him, I froze. It was hard to talk, and I klutzed like a kid on his first date.

Who wouldn't ?

At 6'4", Mark towered over me. His craggy face & rough hands told of the years on the west Texas plains. The long face of a Trail Boss, crowned by a tight Marine horseshoe flattop and a bristling moustache. Both a brilliant silver colour.

Deep tan- icy blue eyes... add his penetrating baritone drawl (think- Sam Elliott) and you can imagine how I shook when he walked up to say hello.

There was no way that a guy like that would go for a guy like me. He was simply too much. I tried to get away from him.

No go. He clapped a hand firmly on my shoulder and kept me glued to him for the entire party.

We did coffee after the party. He managed to calm me down. I finally stopped squeaking at him. It went fine after that.

To this day I don't know what he sees in me. What the hell ? I'll enjoy it for as long as it lasts.

We hit it off right away. Within two weeks, one of us was always staying over at the other's place.

He's quite a dominant guy. He has his ideas, and you live with them.

Maybe I had "submissive" written all over my face. From his first order I fell lockstep into line.

For instance: he shaved my moustache off of me few weeks after we started seeing eachother. Having a 'stache was a privilege reserved for him alone.

He tested me every morning w/ a credit card for missed spots. He found anything, it was back for another shave.

My body hair went down the drain, permanently, a month after that.

Without a 'stache I tend to look very soft and rather boyish. Not feminine, but am often taken for a sissie.

No matter how I pleaded to get my moustache back, he refused.

He had only to rub his bristly face over my boyish one to make me quiet down and behave.

...well, that and the 15 minute butt blistering that ended any further protests about my grooming...

Once the body hair went I really felt soft and vulnerable.

Also, he gave me an estrogen-treated lotion. Every day, He puts on a pair of gloves and smooths the lotion all over my body.

Twice a week he bends me over for a hormone shot as well.

It really has worked. My skin has become a creamy colour. It's as soft as a baby. Must work a bit deeper- even my scent has become more like that of a little boy.

His final word was:

"Enough of the macho pose- it's bullshit. You're a soft & gentle kind of guy. I love you for it. I want the world to see you this way."

As part of my softening up, Mark threw away my jeans and boots.

He decided that I'd now be dressing like a wimp.

Mark put me in white shirts and very dull, nondescript suits for everyday wear.

I had to get used to wearing bow ties. I'd worn them as a little boy. Now, I had to face every day w/ a snappy bow tickling my chin.

He also firmly planted a set of brown horn rimmed glasses on my nose.

The treatment hadn't left me looking like a girl. It left me very round and weak looking.

Overall, he's made me look like a sissie boy on his way to Sunday School.

He says that looking this way makes me more docile & cooperative. He thinks that my attitude has improved.

His pet name for me is "softie".

That's okay. Some of the other things still bother me. He refers to me, when we're among friends, as The Missus ! That's still hard to get used to.

That's embarassing, but now it's embarassingly accurate.

We like bondage games. No real limits. We're adventurous.

I noticed right away that Mark likes to tuck my genitals down under when he's screwing me. He got a strange glow everytime my cock and balls disappeared back behind.

He soon began having me tuck back and wear extra tight jockey shorts.

All of this happened over a period of months. Before I knew what was happening, Mark had molded and trained me to be his idea partner.

What the hell ? Mark's a hunk. Mark's a catch. I'm really a lucky guy.

Something about him just made me look for ways to keep him happy.

Six months later, he issued the order:

"Let's go pack up your gear. You're moving home for good."

It took no time to get into the swing of his life.

I work from home, so doing the household chores is easy.

Mark's a doctor, so he puts in some very long days. Luckily he's a urologist, so he's rarely called out on his off hours.

He works very hard so I really never minded taking care of him. He's domineering, but very affectionate. All I have to do is obey him and he looks after me pretty doggedly.

Yeah: we take pretty good care of eachother.

His circle of friends took to me right away. They're great people. Mainly medical men and their partners. We all see eachother very frequently. Life is good.

Doctors are a clannish bunch. They really do gravitate toward eachother in most social situations. The partners have to accept this and just let them go. No big deal.

Some very close friendships with the other doctors' spouses. We're a very tight group of guys.

We often have eachother over to dinner.

Usually, the Docs hang out on the patio while we help the host finish setting up dinner. After dinner the Docs usually retreat to the den while we hang out in the kitchen or on the patio.

Most of the spouses are in the creative fields, so we have a great time batting ideas around.

Around Christmas of our 2d year, we all gathered for a big holiday feast.

It was a great time.

After dinner, the spouses retreated to the kitchen for the next rounds of holiday cheer.

Aaron, a group mainstay, had been in the hospital recently so he was on light duty. We kept him on a stool, helping out mainly by mixing drinks.

Just to be sociable, I asked Aaron how his appendectomy had gone.

He got the most enigmatic smile, made another drink, and simply said:

"fine."

Later the other spouses had settled into a deep conversation. Aaron caught my eye, motioning me toward the back hallway.

We went into one of the guest rooms.

"Wanna see something ?" Aaron chuckled w/ a glint in his eye.

Before I could answer, he undid his pants and started to slide them down.

Oh great, chuckling to myself. Here's where the drunk shows off his appendectomy scar.

Aaron must've read my mind. He shook his head and started to pull down his briefs. With a triumphant smile, he pulled away his shirt to reveal.....

....his nearly empty crotch...I simply stared, unable to react...

Aaron had always had one of the larger hunks of meat of the group. It was common knowlege. After that many pool parties, you know these things.

Now, it was gone. Gone, too, were the pendulous conjones that graced his considerable tool. In it's place was a very prominent pubic mound. It was a larger version of a woman's crotch. It had rather well fashioned, but prominent lips.

"A sex change ?" was all I could ask.

He hadn't been in the hospital long enough. He was too well recovered, this soon afterward. He still looked like a man. But he had very feminine looking genitals.

"wow" was all that would come out...

He pulled up his pants and said:

"I'll be over tomorrow morning. We'll talk." as he headed out of the room.

He turned to pause as he exited the room with the parting comment:

"By the way, hon: your husband does incredible work. Thank him for us,

will ya ?."

With a wink, Aaron melted back into the kitchen group.

I had to fire up a joint to compose myself. It took a few minutes to

rejoin the group. The evening wound down to a pleasant end and everyone left in high spirits.

We were too tired to do anything but cuddle up that night. We enjoyed some very intimate pillow talk and faded out.

When I passed on Aaron's message, he just chuckled and said:

"Good to hear."

I went to sleep as mystified as ever.

II.Next Day

The next morning I got Mark off to work. No major projects were in the offing, so I just finished up some sundry odds and ends in my office.

My schedule was cleared out for the morning.

Whatever Aaron had to share needed to be heard w/o interruption.

The coffee had started running when he finally called. He'd be right over.

My curiosity was killing me. This was so bizarre. Why had he, so gifted in the meat market, gone ahead and had everything cut off ?

This proved to be a mistake, relating it all to transsexualism. More than a few had crossed my path over the years.

I knew the lingo. Words like "transition", "dressing in the role", and "hormone therapy", rocketed through my mind.

Obviously none of these terms applied to Aaron.

Finally the doorbell rang. I nearly yanked him into the kitchen. Maintaining a decent interval, before throwing the proverbial Twenty Questions, was hell !

Finally: "what happened ?"

"Well, at the last pool party, I noticed something. Most of the partners really weren't pushing much in the way of a basket anymore."

A day later, his husband brought it up. Aaron was told that, yes- most of the wives had been altered by Mark. They had lost the use of their dicks and balls in a temporary procedure. Nothing was amputated, just placed where they couldn't get at them.

Dr Steve told Aaron that the surgery tended to make the subjects more docile and amenable to discipline. Without the thrusting genitals, they tended to turn inward behaviouraly. They also seemed more content to stay home, attending to their husbands and their duties.

Once "mounded", the subject began to act & feel more completely like a traditional wife.

At least half of the wives had been Mounded.

"It was then" Aaron sighed, "that Steve told me that I would be joining them." He looked very resigned to it. Not happy at all.

He then told me that Mark had actually invented the new surgical procedure. Mark's nurse, Robert, had been the first to undergo the alteration. Robert's husband "volunteered" him as a guniea pig.

After a couple of years, Mark had reversed the Mounding. Robert was restored to completely functional manhood.

"The experience seems to have done something to his mind. He

still Hops To when given an order by his husband. It's as though

being tucked left him a trained dog."

Aaron came over and braced my shoulders. The look in his eyes was one of deep concern. He just shook his head.

He looked around the room, then whispered:

"Paul- you're next."

He told me that he'd overheard Mark and Steve discussing me. The other doctors were wondering why Mark had left me intact for so long.

"One way or the other, you're going to be on the table by this time

next week. Some of the doctors have been invited to observe."

With that I started pouring drinks. We both needed it. Aaron started talking, then chattering, finally melting down into a gut wrenching crying jag.

He hated what had been done to him. He felt like Steve had sent him off to be fixed. He knew that at the next pool party, everyone would know what had been done to him.

The other doctors had started treating him in a very patronising manner. Nothing he said carried weight anymore. When voicing an opinion, they simply smiled and disregarded him.

Even worse. Steve was now opening doors for him. He pulled out Aaron's chair at a restaurant the other night, seating him as a gentleman would a lady. The waiter hadn't batted an eye when Steve had ordered for the both of them.

Aaron told of the times that he'd get very horney. He could feel himself getting hard. He'd ache to get off. It'd drive him crazy. He'd tried manipulating his new Mound, but could never seem to get himself positioned just right. Fingering only hurt. Rubbing didn't seem to do much besides leave him sore and frustrated.

Getting Off by himself had become impossible.

He'd reach a fever pitch. Steve would simply laugh and bent him over the couch. He'd grease Aaron's asshole to dripping wet and ramm him home. The friction and the rhythm of being fucked did something that had never happened before. Aaron would come while being fucked.

He could feel Steve's cock bouncing and sliding against his own imprisoned member. Deep inside of his body, the shockwaves of being fucked were jacking his dick.

He could feel his dick getting harder by the minute. So long as Steve fucked him, he felt good. Once, Steve pulled out. The good feeling went away. When Steve pushed back in, the feeling came back.

Steve would pump and hammer away at Aaron's back end. He'd slip an arm around his waist, keeping Aaron tight against his thrusting cock. Steve would push his open palm against Aaron's mound, rocking it in tune to the butt ram that he was dishing out.

Steve's hand, massaging his Mound, would remind him of how it used to feel when a hand would grip his cock.

Aaron almost started crying again, as he told how his Mound lips had swollen and started throbbing. They felt wonderful, and it horrified him !

Steve would come with a heavy blast. His big old cock throbbed against the walls of Aaron's ravaged asshole.

The throbbing triggers an atomic blast from Aaron. The orgasm shakes everything within him. Unable to pump straight out like before, Aaron's buried cock simply throbbs and vibrates inside his pelvis. His rectum, his bladder, his pelvic bones took the shock and bounced it back into his imprisoned tubesteak.

Aaron's Mound lips pulse in a gentler counterpoint to the shaking of his cock.

Steve often pushes his head down, forcing him to watch as those lips quiver. The lips grow moist from the precum, then grow slimey as the strongest orgasm of Aaron's life cascaded out of the feminine folds of his altered crotch.

The spluge erupts in one continual gush. It coats Steve's hand and runs down Aaron's leg. Aaron's pelvis bucks and quivers. Steve's dick still buried inside of him. Steve continues to nibble on his ear. Steve massages his spluge-coated hand all over Aaron's throbbing Mound.

It feels so good- better than fucking had ever felt before.

That was the worst of it. Aaron hated being fucked. Now it was one of the few ways that he could get off.

Now he desperately craves it.

And now, he can only get off with Steve's help. Steve decides when, and if, Aaron will have an orgasm. He's now completely and absolutely dependant upon his husband's help to get off.

Now, he had to please Steve in every way required to be given release.

Only Steve's cock, or Steve's tongue, can give him the release He has to beg and plead and jiggle like a damn hussey to get Steve's cock inside of him.

"It's awful. I love him, but it's awful to have to NEED him to Get

Off. It's awful. I want to be a man again, b-but it feels sooo good

to be played with like that.."

He lost it again. He fell against me, bawling like a baby. Still in shock, I just let him go until this gusher ran its course.

"Two years. At least two years, it's going to be like this. If I act

up, Steve says my Restoration will be delayed indefinitely."

I really had no idea what to say. Possible solutions rang thru my head.

"Had you thought of going to another doctor ? Maybe someone could

get this thing reversed."

Aaron just gave me a very resigned smile and shook his head.

"Nah. Nobody can help me. Besides, I'd lose Steve and (god help me)

I love that SOB more than life."

"Only Mark knows how to do this. Only Mark can UNdo it."

Aaron finally pulled it together. We finished our drinks. He cleaned up. He left with the repeated warning of what awaited me.

Shock and denial carried me thru the rest of the day.

Mark came home about 6. Dinner went as usual.

We settled into our evening routine. Mark finished some paper work. I cleaned up some business blown off by the day's revelations.

After a couple of hours I noticed Mark looming over me. He had That Twinkle in his eye. He gave me a couple of blasts from a pipe, then said:

"Steve tells me that Aaron spilled the beans."

"Yeah. He was here this morning. Really messed him up. I'm afraid."

"nah" Mark drawled as he put his arms around me. He rested against me, then continued:

"y'know what a drama queen Aaron can be. He'll get used to it."

"oh. okay. He looked pretty bad today."

Mark slapped me on the back, took my hand, and led me out of the office.

"Actually, I'm kinda glad that he ran his mouth. There's something

that I need to run by ya."

He kissed me, then finished:

"You don't have to say yes right now. Just hear me out."

With that, we went into his office.

We sat down, and he started to explain what he wanted to do to me.

He explained that he'd develloped a kind of surgery.

Mark had develloped it as a kind of disciplinary thing for the docs' spouses. It was the ultimate chastity control. The subject's cock & balls were put back into the body, leaving them out of reach.

It tended to render them more cooperative by reshaping their genitals. When completed, the subject's crotch looked very feminine, indeed.

Most patients found it hard to be rebellious or uppity while sporting a pussy.

He produced pictures. Theses were guys that I saw every day ! I was still in shock.

It had been perfected and that he'd performed it on about half of our circle's spouses.

It wasn't castration. It wasn't permanent, unless the parties decided to leave it that way. A few incisions were made, then the subject's testicles and penis were tucked way back into the body. The empty ball sac was used to shape a feminine looking set of vulva lips.

No loss of hormones. The subject retained use of his balls. The surgery was much less invasive than was Sex Reassignment Surgery. The recovery time was less than a third. He reiterated that it could be reversed at pleasure of the husband.

Mark explained that some of the doctors had commented about my bulge at the last swim party. They'd wanted to know why I hadn't undergone the surgery myself.

He admitted that he'd wanted to Mound (his term) me since the first moment he'd seen me. He told me that I'd look spectacular, and that he'd be very pleased with me this way.

It'd be the perfect cap to his general aim in softening me up.

I'd only have to stay Mounded for a couple of years. Then, if I proved cooperative, he'd let me back out.

As his spouse, he felt that it was my duty to set a good example for the rest for the rest of the circle.

His whole manner was very matter-of-fact. He drawled and smiled like an old country doc. This old country doc was telling me that he intended to cut and resculpt my crotch !

He let it drop. Told me that he'd give me some time to think about it.

We went to bed and fucked like dogs.