Johnny

by

DCR

ONE

Johnny Gabardi took a last look in the bathroom mirror on his way out. He inspected the fitted shirt and 501 jeans. He knew how his looks affected others. His southern Italian descent gifted him with a rich complexion, wavy black hair, and big brown eyes crowned by long thick eyelashes that created a perfect intersection deep within a woman's psyche between sexual yearning and jealousy. His youthful looks bypassed the word handsome in favor of cute, or really cute, or really fucking cute; although I don't care for that kind of language. Even though he was short, his 5'3" frame was in perfect proportion, and he was never considered a pushover by taller men.

Although I knew he loved me, I always got the feeling that he married me just to get out from under the constant pressure of his mother to get married. Of course the real issue was that she wanted grandchildren. His father had died years earlier, which lead to a devotion to his mother that, at least I felt, bordered on Freudian, if not Oedipal. The man I married ten years ago wasn't a heavy drinking sports fanatic. He wasn't a hyper macho exercise freak that bullied his employees and me, as if I were one of those employees. The man I married didn't spend almost every weekend watching sports on TV with his buddies.

"Johnny, my car has been making that knocking sound again."

"Well take it in and have it looked at" he said, without even slowing down as he passed through the kitchen.

No, the man I married was self-conscious, deferential, and polite. He wanted to please his mother, and me. When we laid together in bed, he took pleasure in my pleasure, actually looking to me for guidance. But I knew that his mother was always in the back of his head, telling him to procreate. He would thrust as deeply as he could inside me as he climaxed, asking himself, "Will this be the one?"

He turned before he walked out of the house.

With a tone of exasperation, he said, "Oh, and will you please get around to calling the man about resodding the backyard. I'm mean I know you have a hectic schedule, but just see if you can squeeze it in."

He knew I didn't have a hectic schedule.

"Alright, Johnny. Have a good day."

Then he was gone.

Except for the old girl, I'm sure he was truly ambivalent about having children. I know I didn't want them; which is why, unbeknownst to him, I had been taking birth-control pills from the very beginning.

I loved Johnny from the moment I set eyes on him. I knew I would have him. As we grew closer, and eventually married, I came to feel I knew him intimately, and how to make him happy for the rest of his life. As the months and years passed, and I still wasn't pregnant, I could almost see the burden weigh upon him. He would plead with his mother to understand that he was trying his best to have those grandchildren for her. He took the guilt, even though she really blamed me, the older woman who took her son away. I was only five years older, but to a traditional Italian, it may as well have been twenty-five. Unfortunately for Mrs. Gabardi, I didn't give a damn what she thought.

In the third year of our marriage, one of those instances that at first seem minor, but turn out to be devastating, occurred. Mrs. Gabardi took a tumble in her bathtub. However, she was able to get to the phone and call Johnny. By the time he got to her house, she said she felt fine, and refuse to go to the hospital. In the morning, when he went to check on her, Johnny was thrown into complete shock. She was still in bed, and had passed away. She had suffered a cerebral hemorage, brought on by the fall.

He would cry like a baby, as I held him close to me in comfort. I would look into those beautiful brown eyes, full of tears, and could see deep into his soul. I knew that I would always love him. As the weeks went by, and the trauma wore off, I saw his mood lighten; and he became happier than I had ever seen him in years. Talk of children never came up again.

For the next couple of years, everything seemed wonderful. At least, that's what I thought, as Johnny focused on his business. I didn't want to work outside the home, and didn't have to.

His parents had instilled in him the idea to avoid poverty at all costs. When he was still in high school, his father died of a heart attack. At the age of seventeen, Johnny was expected to complete school, but also run the small coin-op laundromat and carwash that kept food on the table for his mother and him. By the time he was twenty-one, he was a successful businessman, with three full-time employees, and a rapidly expanding business. That's when I decided to convince him to marry me. As his tax consultant, I was well educated and confident. Johnny always respected my advice, and took it.

Now, after six years of marriage, it all seemed to be fading. We rarely made an effort to have sex anymore. Don't get me wrong. I still loved him deeply, as I know he loved me. It's just that I started to get the feeling that something about our marriage hadn't been right from the very beginning.

I knew it was my fault. I was the one who wasn't paying attention, and let us both fall into complacency. He looked to me for guidance, and I let him down. If his mother had been abusive toward him with her constant demands, yet I had been just as abusive in my neglect of his needs. Now I was paying the price.

At the age of twenty-seven, he saw himself as a success, and you really couldn't argue with that. We had a big house and two matching Mercedes in the driveway, and a very comfortable income. During the day, he was often unreachable at work. But I'm not stupid. He was screwing around.

I had no doubt that finding women wasn't a problem. He was lean, muscular, and gorgeous. Although he was short, he was charming, and his new found vanity proclaimed him open for business. I'm sure he was having sex with every mildly attractive woman he came into contact with, except for me. As it turned out, the death of his mother was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, the burden to have children was lifted; but on the other, so were the constraints of marriage, or even to remain married.

David Shepherd, my best friend, was my shoulder to cry on. He was, more or less, a non-person in Johnny's eyes. However, he was happy that I had a non-threatening companion with whom I could spend long afternoons guzzling coffee and gossiping.

David is gay, and didn't have financial success as Johnny saw it. He was a bartender at what I thought was a very down and dirty gay bar. He is also mature, caring, and warm. Everything that Johnny wasn't anymore. I loved David as my closest and most trusted friend. I had known him since high school, a time when he was deeply closeted and courting would-be girlfriends. He was classically handsome with ashen-blonde hair and a complexion that tanned easily. He had a surfer dude look, and the girls buzzed around him like bees to honey.

However, since I had never tried to be romantic with him, our friendship was closer than any other. I had a feeling he was gay, even way back then. But it was only after he had proven himself in the Marines, that he felt confident enough to move back and tell me the truth about who he really was.

I'm sure Johnny had some deep seated anxiety about this friendship, as well as his own sexuality that caused him to be ever so slightly homophobic. Personally, I think he had a Napoleon complex. True, Johnny had a nice penis, but he wasn't even five and a half feet tall, and his 5 inch penis only just proportionate to his body; while David was 6'3" of ex-marine muscle. And when I asked him, he had no problem showing me his manhood. Even soft, it was nearly the same size as Johnny's was hard, and a lot thicker.

As I commiserated with David, the conversation always steered toward possible divorce. But Johnny's money was something to which I had grown very accustomed, and alimony isn't what it used to be.

"Take him as he is, or walk out the door", I would say to David, "and the thing is, with all his money and looks, he seems as miserable as me; and I know it was my fault."

David would say, "It takes two to make a rotten marriage."

Yet, I knew that wasn't true in our case. Johnny and I had a very special relationship; and it was up to me to fix it. The clock was definitely ticking; and it looked like an empty apartment and back to the tax business was in my very near future. I came to realize that I would have very little if the marriage ended. Even if I proved that he had been cheating, that would get me an extra few thousand dollars, but that's about it. Yet, with all that said, I still loved him.

I knew that as unhappy as I would be, it would be worse for him. He would spend the first few months, or even years enjoying his freedom. Bringing home strange women every night, turning our home into the ultimate bachelor pad. Eventually, he would marry somebody else, and, inevitably, fall into the same traps that had doomed us. The truth is that I am the only one that really knows him. No matter how sour our marriage had become, I still knew what was in his heart. I did a lot of thinking and research over what to do; and I firmly believe that what I did next was for Johnny's own good, as well as ours.

"The fact is," I said to David during one of our afternoon coffee sessions, "he has all the power, and nobody can tell him what to do, and that's going to lead to his ultimate unhappiness, and I just can't let that happen."

David looked at me very seriously, "All I know is that if he finds out, he's going to kill you. I mean literally, he's going to kill you."

"I love him too much, David. I have to take that chance."

We talked for hours at a time over the next few weeks, and finally drew up a plan of action. As far as I was concerned, David was a member of the family as well. He loved me as a deeply as platonic love can, and agreed to help. Although Johnny had been nothing but an asshole to David, he showed no animosity in return. I had a feeling that despite Johnny's attitude, David couldn't help but have a little crush on him.

TWO

Thank God for the internet. You can buy just about anything on there. Within a few days, everything we had ordered was now tucked away in my make-up drawer. All we needed to do was work up the courage.

Johnny normally made it home by six, and was usually hungry. Call it a throwback to the 1950's, but when he came home, he wanted dinner on the table; and since I liked to cook anyway, it was one of our few remaining bonds, even with all his complaints about too much fat and carbs. Tonight, sprinkled in the beef stroganoff, there would be two secret ingredients. No, not poison. Like I said, I still loved him dearly. It's just a very strong sleeping pill, plus another drug that my mother takes all the time. As a matter of fact, from now on, Johnny's health will always be of great importance to me. After dinner, he sat with a beer and tried to watch some TV, but within twenty minutes, he was out. I called David, and he was over in a flash.

"You know," David said while looking down at Johnny spread out on the couch, "I've always thought he was really cute."

"I know David", I said. "I think he knows it too, which may be one of the reasons he's such a jerk to you."

With that said, we smiled and then got down to work.

One of the many wonder drugs of the past few years is something called Depo-Provera. It is widely used as a female contraceptive that comes in injection form. It also has a more controversial use. In some states, it's used against sex-offenders who have been ordered to undergo chemical castration. There are ways to physically disable his testicles, but none that he wouldn't notice or be enraged over. Besides, this drug is only temporary. If I change my mind, I can always back out.

Now before you call me a vindictive horrible bitch, please hear me out. I had done a lot of reading about testosterone and it's huge influence over everything male. Sex drive is a major aspect, but it also influences the very core of how men think and behave. I just wanted a little breathing room before Johnny made any rash decisions about our relationship. I would never ever harm my Johnny.

Let me put it this way, remember that episode of Star Trek where the transporter malfunctioned and created two Captain Kirks? One was out of control and aggressive (sexually and otherwise), while the other completely lacked aggression (sexually or otherwise), as well as any decision making abilities. That second Captain Kirk is exactly the Johnny I needed and wanted right now. My marriage depended upon it.

The other drug in the pasta was just a little estrogen to boost his female hormones. Once again, after much reading, I knew that this would help to shake up all the macho BS that had built up inside him over the years. I was hoping he would learn to depend more on my strengths. My first big mistake after his mother died was not to encourage this behavior.

David prepared the needle, while I turned him over and got his pants down, exposing his muscular little bubble butt.

"Damn, that's a porn star's ass, even as hairy as it is!" said David.

"Yeah, he's practically all hair from head to toe" I said.

Within a few seconds, it was done. Just a little estrogen every day and an early bedtime every Friday evening for the Depo-Provera. Before we finished, David asked if he could turn him over again. I smiled.

"Go ahead."

Without another word, David was looking down at him like a work of art. He moved his hand over Johnny. As he lay there helplessly sleeping, David held Johnny's plum sized scrotum as if it were precious.

He looked at me, "You sure?" he said, holding the scrotum. I just smiled.

That was all he needed. He easily took the soft little dick in his mouth. The head was nice and mushroomy; I used to love holding it between my lips. His balls had a thin layer of dark fur, with a coat swirling around the penis shaft, which funneled down from his chiseled chest and lean stomach. Finally, Johnny involuntarily climaxed, as David took it all in.

His wide awake dick stayed hard, like it wanted more playtime. Even as we struggled to get his underpants and pants up, it seemed to be begging for more, peeking over the underwear. All the while, Johnny slept, breathing deeply. I left the room for a moment, and when I came back, I could see that David had just stolen a kiss from Johnny's lips. This disconcerted me for a moment, but it passed soon enough. At about midnight, I woke him up. He found himself fully clothed and laying on the couch, with the TV set on.

"Come on Johnny, let's go to bed," I said.

He was very groggy, but managed to make it to the bedroom, change into his sleeping things, take a piss, and climb into bed. He was completely oblivious to the fact that his treatment had already begun.

THREE

For the next three or four weeks, there wasn't much change. I was beginning to think the drug was either bogus, or we weren't giving him enough. He did start to get a little more irritable. He wouldn't tell me why, but I guessed that it was because his equipment wasn't quite up to par lately during his afternoon trysts. Then, day by day, I could almost see him changing. At first, it was much more emotional than physical. Finally, I couldn't stand to see him getting so stressed out over the fact that he was gaining weight, along with the impotence.

He started trying to exercise his way out of us helping him. He was drinking canned protein shakes that I had no control over; and most worrying, he wasn't allowing me to prepare nice meals for him. So David and I ordered a few more things from our friendly pharmacy online. Before long, my make-up drawer was filled with muscle relaxants, sedatives, and a variety of mood enhancers. He had already missed several estrogen treatments, and worst of all, he totally skipped dinner one Friday night. At this rate, all of our work would be lost. I knew very well from my own Doctors that the right medications and dosages is not something you usually get exactly right the first time. Prescription drugs are a lot like cooking. You try a little of this, and a little of that, until you hit just the right balance.

At some point he bought a large bottle of food supplement pills. They were the kind that you could pull apart and the powder would pour out. It took some time, but I was finally able to replace all the pills with medicine that would make him calm down and stop worrying so much about food and exercise. I combined several different medications into one tidy little supplement pill that he took at mealtimes. With every pill he was oblivious to the fact that he was actively working against his own stubborn will. Eventually, that will collapsed, and we got Johnny to start cooperating with us again.

Another drug that came in handy was called Antabuse. He was taking a lot of very sensitive medication, yet continuing to have two or three drinks every evening. But if you have this nifty little drug in your system, and you drink alcohol, you end up sick as a dog, vomiting as if you had food poisoning. I would hold a damp cloth to his forehead as he clung to the toilet, and I would say, "Johnny, I think the alcohol is making you sick." He finally got the point, and started drinking straight club soda.

Over the next six weeks or so, we hit that balance. Granted, I was spending a huge amount of money on a dozen different drugs. But he was making great progress. At this point, he was still spending some time at work, but would usually be home by late morning. Until then I had no idea how much time he spent just whoring around town. Now he would come home like a little boy after school wanting a toasted cheese sandwich and glass of milk. For the first time in years, he started spending time with me. It was my old Johnny again, but not really. He'd gone back more than the six years I had initially wanted. Sometimes I would look at him, and he would look back at me with those big brown eyes and batting eyelashes; and I swear that there was just a little prepubescent boy in there.

Around this time, David decided to work up the courage to come over when he knew Johnny was there and awake. At first, it was the old Johnny, very gruff and a little sarcastic. His previous learned behaviors were still in place. Just when David was getting ready to leave, I decided to put my foot down. I told David to keep his seat, and took Johnny into the bedroom.

"Now listen to me Johnny, David is a very good friend of mine, and you are going to treat him with courtesy! Do you understand me?" I snapped at him.

Alright, I thought to myself, if he's ten years old, I'm going to treat him like a ten year old! I was angry and he knew it. I wasn't prepared for what happened next.

He bowed his head down, and sheepishly said, "OK, I'm sorry"

Oh my God! The old Johnny would never have done. The Power had shifted. I was in control. I was happy. Johnny didn't seem unhappy, just kind of unaware of his continuing improvements. There were a few issues we were working through. His attention span was very short; so he couldn't watch anything on television for more than a few minutes without flipping the channel. If he heard anything mildly amusing, he would start giggling and wouldn't stop. All of this was fine, as long as he was happy; but if he got angry or upset, the screaming and crying could go on until he either wore himself out, or I was able to give him a sedative in one of his protein shakes.

It was soon after that I decided to make a few changes in myself. I had been dying my hair blonde for years, and kept it straight. I usually had it cut just above the shoulders, sometimes a little longer. Looking back, I have to admit that I looked like a run-of-the-mill local television news reporter. I even wore those silly skirted suits with a frilly bow-tied blouse. One afternoon, I came home as a curly brunet. It was as close to my natural look as I could remember. I decided that it was definitely time for a change in my wardrobe as well.

Without a hint of sentimentality, I emptied three-quarters of my closets, dressers, and drawers, and donated them. For the first time in years, I started to really think about the make-up I was using. What look had I been reaching for, an uptight business women or a fifties housewife? Neither was acceptable anymore. All those different shades of beige and brown, and one muted rouge lipstick. I started feeling anger and pity for my former self. No, this was not self-pity. This was literally the most honest look in the mirror I had ever done, and what I had done to myself. Was it any wonder that Johnny was bored and wanted out?

I was thirty-two years old, but felt like a pre-teen again, trying to figure out the look I wanted. I had a catalogue in my mind of all the women who looked vaguely like me. After a while it hit me, Adrienne Barbeau. I was reaching pretty far back. After all, it had been twenty or thirty years since this woman was a well known TV and movie star. But that didn't matter. I remember watching her as a kid on reruns of Maude. She was smart, sexy, and had an edge to her. Her body was incredible, and had boobs that even made a little girl like me just stare at them and wonder.

Now I don't want to flatter myself, but my breast are very nice above average C cups. I cringe at all the years I hid them under those damned blouses. The more I thought about it, the more I new that it was to be Adrienne Barbeau, circa 1975. I went out and bought a half-dozen pair of jeans. I bought comfortable Levi's, not ridiculously tight ones that screamed out for a man's gaze. I bought tight t-shirts, and pull-overs, a hot little leather jacket, and a pair of black boots that cost a bundle.

The first time David saw me, he was genuinely taken aback. Even after the initial shock, and from that point on, I notice an almost imperceptible change in his behavior toward me. He would talk to me as if his point of reference had changed, as if I really were a different woman.

At around this time, Johnny was completely open to our suggestions, and seemingly unfazed by my change in wardrobe. He was in no condition to be running a business, so we "suggested" he take a little time off. After a while, his whole world was inside our house. The complete loss of testosterone left him in a state where he didn't want to go anywhere anyway. He was often quite content to spend the morning slowly folding clothes, or sitting at the table watching me cook dinner. Most often, he could be found just staring blankly at anything on television. He often looked as if he had found the perfect state of serenity, not groggy or dopey, just blank.

Football season started; and I was dreading it. He was as giddy as a child on Christmas morning at the thought of being with his buddies again. Every time a commercial would come on promoting the weekend game, he would jump up, gleefully yell and point, "There see?!" That's the one we're going to watch!"

He would smile broadly and pace in circles, pulling up his new pants the whole time. By now, he was noticeably heavier, at least noticeable to everyone but him. I bought a new pair of his favorite Levi's 501's, but had to get a larger waist size in order to accommodate his new pair shape and much larger bottom. I was always careful to switch the patch on the back with one of the old size 28's. We had him convinced that he was actually losing weight, and that's why they seemed so lose. The thing is, he wasn't gaining weight where men usually do, the stomach, but in his hips, breasts, and rear instead. So he didn't take much notice.

I have to admit that his weight problem was partially my fault. I was so happy to see him really enjoying all the meals I cooked for him. After so many years, he was savoring the taste of my casseroles, stews, and creamy hot dishes, instead of reducing it all to carbs, proteins, fat grams, and calories. Nothing made me happier than to hear him ask for seconds, or even thirds. His medicines mixed in easily; and with just a touch of sleeping aid, he was ready for bed by nine for a long night's sleep. As it is for many housewives, my cooking and care for my husband was the ultimate expression of love.

He was so happy after talking with one of his football buddies on the phone, and being invited over to watch. He couldn't stop talking about it. With much reluctance, I decided to let him go. I did make a note to order the advanced service from the phone company, so that all incoming calls would be redirected to my cell phone, when I wasn't home.

FOUR

So the day finally came. A little before 3 o'clock Sunday afternoon, there he went. I waved goodbye from the front yard, and he waved back, all smiles. What I was really worried about at this point was a nasty case of road rage.

"God, why did I let him go?" I asked, kicking myself.

True, it was only a mile and a half away, on a Sunday, through almost all residential neighborhoods; but I would never forgive myself if something happened to him. I turned on the pre-game show and just sat there, stunned at my own stupidity. A few minutes later, I thought, "He must be there by now."

I made him write down the address and phone number.

"Just in case I might need you for something," I said to him.

I'm sure it made him feel good because I sounded so dependent on him. Finally the whistle blows, and kick off. The ball flew a hundred feet into the air to the other end of the field.

"Oh, Johnny Gabardi, are you OK?"

The ball slammed into the ground and bounced into the end zone with all of these huge men just running along side it.

"Please don't try to change the channel Johnny, please!"

I was literally on the edge of the couch, with my elbows dug into my knees, and my mouth buried in my hands, watching the game.

"You know you shouldn't drink beer. You know that Johnny!"

Second down, third down. All they're doing is piling on each other, getting up, and doing it all over again. A long pass, the ball is intercepted.

"Oh Jesus Johnny I miss you! Be good for me, please!"

Now one commercial after another...beer, women, cars, shaving razors, athletes...

"Oh God, what am I doing here? I should call, but what excuse?"

I couldn't think. I couldn't move. I didn't dare.

"And we're back"

The ball is punted. It whirls into the air and comes down in the arms of a man who darts to one side of the field, he leaps and spins, as graceful as a ballet dancer to avoid two giants trying to crush him. He cradles the ball in one arm, extending the other with his fingers stretched out, passing more of them. He's running faster and faster, his legs springing like a gazelle's, leaving everyone behind. He finally makes it to the end zone and the crowd explodes.

The announcers can barely contain themselves. The man drops the ball and does a little dance for the crowd, gyrating his hips and waving his arms. His teammates engulf him with hugs and pats on his helmet and rear. Then after everyone calms down, the whistle blows, and it starts all over again; whistle blows, start action, tackle, whistle blows, stop action. I just sat there.

"I trust you Johnny, I trust you. Please be good."

It seems easy enough...four quarters, each quarter, fifteen minutes. But the clock keeps starting and stopping, and more commercials, endless commercials.

"I'll die, I'll die." I felt in the pit of my stomach.

My eyes glazed over, and the field of players went out of focus. The shrill sound of the phone nearly stopped my heart. I don't dare answer it. I just stare and let it ring a second time. Panic sets in. I grab the phone and shout into it, "Hello!"

"Leslie, it's David"

I burst out bawling.

"David! David! What do I do? I need him back here! I'm going to die!"

"Calm down! Just calm down! Drive over and see if the car is out front."

"Yes. Yes, I will" I said.

"I'm on my way over." he said.

The sound of David's voice immediately centered me and gave me strength. I hung up the phone, and calmly picked up the car keys. But with each passing second, the panic rose in me again. I raced out to the car, not thinking to close the front door. I got half way up the street when Johnny's steel grey Mercedes came skidding around the corner and passed me. I made a u-turn through a front yard, nearly taking out a mail box. I was back onto the street just in time to see Johnny crash through the garage door. The car stopped half way in the garage and the break lights were on.

I slammed to a stop in the driveway, got out, and found myself pushing up on the huge wrecked door to reach Johnny. He was looking forward, his jaw clinched and lips curled. The airbag had deployed, leaving a white powdery residue all over him. I couldn't get the door open.

"Johnny, push on the door! Push on the door Johnny!"

I was screaming hysterically, pounding on the rolled up window. I could see he was a mess. It looked like he had food all over himself. He finally turned and looked at me.

"They're assholes! Assholes! I didn't do anything!"

"I know Johnny, I know!"

Tears were streaming down my face. His brown eyes turned into pools of tears.

"Please Johnny, open the door!"

His mouth opened as he started crying, soft at first, and then hard.

"Johnny, I need you! I need you so much! Please honey, please open the door!"

I was helpless to help him. At that moment, the garage door blew off the car, and Johnny's door opened. David reached in, put the car in park, and turned off the engine. He took Johnny by the arms and pulled him out of the car. All I could do was follow, as David took control and brought my Johnny back into the house. During the evening, he swung from violent outbursts, to irreconcilable tears. Finally, I told David that it was time for a tranquilizer.

"No, your not!" he said with a firmness that I've never heard from him.

He went into the living room where Johnny lay sobbing on the couch. He knelt down, gently hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him into the bedroom, where they lay together for the rest of the night. The next morning, Johnny wouldn't leave David's side. He was Johnny's best friend in the whole world now. By that evening, I just had to know what had happened. What had they said to embarrass or berate him? Did they laugh or throw food at him?

I couldn't ask Johnny. This was the first time he had carried something over into the next day. Thank God for David. Whenever Johnny started to get riled up, there was David keeping him in check. But David wasn't bullying him. He would just gently hold the back of his neck or arm and Johnny would just start calming down. You could tell that he was just absorbing David's strength. This was something I couldn't provide. He needed a strong man in his life, an authority figure. And that was obviously David.

I found the phone number that Johnny gave me. The host's name was Don Snell. I worked up a story that Johnny was suffering from a thyroid deficiency, which was wreaking havoc on his metabolism, and that often caused mood swings. I was just praying that he hadn't pushed over the TV or thrown something, as he had done at home before. I took a deep breath and dialed the phone.

Second ring, "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Don?"

"Speaking."

"Hi Don, this is Leslie, Johnny's wife..."

There was a pause, he grunted and cleared his throat.

"Well hello. So how's Johnny doing?"

I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or just trying to be pleasant.

"Well, he's a little upset, but I really just wanted to..."

"Look" he said, cutting me off, "I was just trying to host a friendly football Sunday. I mean, you really think I appreciate it when people come to my house and get all fucked up?"

I said, "Listen, Johnny's been going through a rough patch and..."

"Ya' know what? When people start going fucken' nuts, there's not a lot I can do about it except kick'em out!"

He was shouting now.

"Don, please just tell me what happened", I begged him.

After ten minutes, I slowly put the receiver down, and just sat stunned on the edge of the bed, and tried to assimilate what Don had related to me. Johnny was in the living room, holding the remote, while David sat next to him.

Apparently he showed up just as the visiting team was receiving the kickoff. Johnny blew in all boisterous and glad handing , and talking up a storm. They were all back together again, Don, Jerry, Heck, Phil, and Johnny. Soon there were booms of laughter and loud talk, as the ball began to make its way up the field; and it was time for another round of beers. His wife had made a lasagna and potato salad, and he remembers Johnny loading up his plate. After the first round of commercials, more beers were tossed around. However, Don didn't remember Johnny taking one, but he did make it back to the buffet table.

"And we're back."

The punter on the visiting team slowly charges the ball. He kicks it a good fifty yards, straight into the waiting arms of DeVol James, the hottest tight-end the hometown team has seen in years. The next few seconds are the kind of thing football fans live for. James took a split-second to analyze the situation. He pivoted to his left, then instantly double-backed, faking out both a high and low tackle. He charged toward a narrowing gap that the offensive line was fighting to maintain. He penetrated the line through a collapsing defense. The remaining opposition was child's play as he blew into the end zone, and began his victory dance. The living room exploded with screaming, howling, and dancing.

Then, sure enough...click, fishing show...click, a different game...click, bowling.

I was relieved to hear that at least he waited until the touchdown was over.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" one of them screamed.

"I just want to see something." Johnny calmly replied, holding his plate in one hand and the remote in the other. David and I knew by now that when he says, "I just want to see something" you may as well put on a bathing suit, because you're going channel surfing. Jerry stormed over to Johnny's easy chair and tried to tear the remote out of his hand.

"What are you doing?!" Johnny screamed, as he struggled to keep hold.

"Gimme that goddamned remote!"

Jerry shouted as he plunged his knee into Johnny's crotch.

He let out a high scream like he was being raped, and the plate of lasagna and potato salad went all over the both of them. Heck started laughing hysterically. He grabbed Phil's arm and started twisting it saying, "Come on asshole, you think you can take me?!"

"Ouch, ouch!" screamed Phil, pushing Heck into a lamp, sending it crashing to the floor.

Don was now panicking, "Stop it! Stop it! My fucken' wife is gonna kill me!"

Johnny was doing pretty well, holding on to the remote like a football, which was infuriating Jerry all the more. The easy chair went into full recline, and then tipped over backwards, getting more lasagna into the white carpet. Phil saw that Heck was vulnerable and took his chance to pounce. In three seconds flat he had him pinned, Greco-Roman style. But you couldn't count Heck out. He rolled Phil over, right into the ficus tree. Now they were both grinding the potting soil into the carpet.

Don was screaming, "For God's sake, give him the remote!"

Johnny mashed his hand into Jerry's face and managed to get his thumb in one of his nostrils, and push his head back. All the while he was screaming, "Get off! Get off!"

Don went to work on Heck and Phil instead, trying to pull them apart. He grabbed Phil by a leg and started dragging him across the floor. Of course, Heck was being dragged right along with him. Jerry finally pried the remote loose. He stood up and held it over his head, making ape like grunts, all to Johnny's horror. Don was beside himself, screaming and kicking Phil and Heck.

"Get out! Get the fuck out!" he kept shouting.

Johnny finally rolled himself out of the chair. In shock, he watched Jerry gloat over his new found ownership of the remote. Whimpering, he walked over to Don to ask him to tell Jerry to give it back to him. Don whipped around, grabbed Johnny, and pushed him all the way to the front door and out, all the while screaming, "Get the fuck out!"

He was shocked as he stood in the front yard all alone. They hated him! They didn't want to be his friends! He finally got in the car and drove off in abject desolation, unaware that Jerry, Phil, and Heck were thrown out, in turn, in exactly the same manner. The last piece of the puzzle fell into place near the end of the conversation with Don.

"Listen, tell Johnny I'm sorry." Don said.

"I just went a little ape shit when those other idiots started tearing the place apart. I'm sure he understands, doesn't he!"

"Oh of course, Don" I said.

"I mean, he was smart to skip the pre-game show this time." He forced a chuckle. "He was the only one of us that was sober by kickoff."

With that, it all came together. The fact that the party usually started with the pre-game show completely skipped my mind. I was so grateful it had. Otherwise, I would have sent Johnny over an hour earlier.

"First of all Don, don't worry about it. Johnny isn't upset in the least; and he wanted me to tell you so."

"Well I'm glad to hear it" he said.

"Secondly, he wanted me to get back to you as soon as possible because he is on a flight at this very moment."

"Oh?"

"Yes. He's going to a corporate franchise convention in Las Vegas; and it looks like he's going to be pretty darned busy the next few months."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, but it sounds like things are going pretty well with him."

"Couldn't be better." I said, "You know Johnny always has something going on."

"Yes well, give him my best; and tell him that I hope we can get too at least a couple of the games this season."

"Well I certainly will, Don; I'm sure he'll do his darndest to make some time for you and the other boys. You know how fond he is of his friends. And Don, he really is doing very well."

With that, it was all over. I felt a tinge of sadness for the wives of Don, Heck, Phil, and Jerry. I made a mental note to perhaps have lunch with them at some point. I pictured these man/boys in my head. They were all naked, but in the before pictures, they looked as they do now. In the after, how much better they would look with no testicles, and all the wonderful side effects that would generate. But at least, Johnny was all mine now. His mother had passed away, he had no siblings, and his employees were happier that he wasn't around to bully them. I walked out into the living room, and sitting on the couch were the two men I loved. I sat down next to Johnny; and they both smiled at me. I was the happiest woman in the world.

I have to say that, at least subconsciously, most Americans would agree that I was doing the right thing. Over the past thirty years there have be hundreds, if not thousands, of TV shows and commercials featuring a smart and savvy housewife dealing with a buffoon for a husband. Invariably, she is the one keeping it all together by bringing home the bacon and frying it up in a pan. Any good psychologist will tell you that there is a hint of truth in all humor; and there are a heck of a lot of hints playing out on television at this very moment. Home improvement, Everybody Loves Raymond...I dare anyone to tell me that those men weren't neutered already.

I first noticed this televised obsession with male inferiority years ago. It was a deodorant soap commercial. The husband was all flustered because he couldn't find the brand that he normally took into the shower. He franticly ran to an open window with the new bar soap, and only a towel around his waist. His wife was in the yard wearing gardening clothes and gloves trimming the hedges, as he poked his nude torso out the window, just over a lovely flower box.

"Honey," he fluttered, "Where's the old soap I use? All I could find was this!"

"This is the new and better soap, Honey. Just give it a try" she calmly said, as she tightly gripped the pruning shears. With a tinge of anxiety, he went back inside; as she grinned and shook her head in bemused adoration. If female superiority isn't based in fact, the desire most certainly is.

FIVE

After three months, his body was really beginning to transform. I was so excited to see the changes. No swaggering attitude, no more perfect jeans showing off a nice basket, little round butt, and 28 inch waist. I was secretly switching his jeans on a fairly regular basis now. What he lost in the front of the jeans, he definitely made up for in back. I was kind of sad to see the six-pack go, but he was enjoying my cooking now, more than ever before. I was constantly revising his medications to keep him from getting upset over any physical changes or confusion as to why he wasn't going to work. I was a bit concerned about his breasts. They weren't as large as they might have been, but his nipples were now huge.

During his Friday night injections, David and I would do a full survey. It was easier now because I had told him that I was tired of doing so much laundry, and that I wanted him to start sleeping in the nude. Without a second thought, he was naked whenever I wished. We actually kept a record of his progress.

His poor testicles had gone from a healthy size to barely appendages, permanently asleep up inside him. It was difficult for me to even find them, and when I did, the small raisins simply refused to extend beyond their hiding place. As a matter of fact, his scrotum was little more than a fold of skin behind his penis. His penis...well, he did still have one. David liked to play with the little thing. With some work, he could get it plump, but it would last only a few seconds and without stroking, would very quickly and obediently turn back into a tiny sprout about an inch long. It's not that any of the drugs had a direct effect on the size of his penis; no drug can do that. But just as his testicles were dormant, so was his penis; and without occasional arousal, the tissues shrink, at least until they are no longer starved of the necessary hormones.

I was happy to see his pubic hair disappear so he wouldn't have a problem peeing. Sometimes when we were inspecting him, I felt such a satisfaction to see his sweet little penis, now permanently sticking straight out like an infant's between his hairless chubby thighs. It was fun just watching David play with him. I knew he was bonding with Johnny as well.

We were so proud of his progress. He was so sweet to be around. Even his voice had this angelic, choirboy quality now. I would leave him at home with some little task to accomplish while I went to his office. I was amazed at how little there was to do in taking control of the business. Everything seemed to be running on automatic. The stress levels of all of the employees had declined sharply because the old Johnny wasn't there to micromanage them anymore. A couple of them asked questions about his whereabouts, but they were more than happy just to go with the flow, especially after I introduced new incentive bonuses. The gross profits started rising soon after.

David and I spent a lot of time going through all of Johnny's things at the office. There were phone numbers, username and PINs to various sex websites, pornography, hotel room receipts, as well as some cocaine. Opening Johnny's emails was a revelation. His macho sex life once had a very hectic schedule. But it was the secret bank account containing about twenty-five thousand dollars that was the real prize. But I wasn't angry in the least. It had been my fault. My Johnny wouldn't do that anymore. Actually, he's lucky I managed to save him when I did, before the IRS caught up with him.

It had become a full-time job taking care of him. So much so, that I invited David to come live with us to help me. We had a big guest bedroom that was just going to waste. It was full of Johnny's old things. We decided to make several trips to Goodwill. We carted out exercise equipment, trophies, Tools, electronic equipment, yearbooks, and all sorts of old stuff. Practically everything he once owned would no longer be a distraction for him. All that junk wasn't going to make him happy. Finally there were a lot of old pictures, including our wedding pictures. I decided that man didn't exist anymore, and that it was time to make new memories. I threw them all out.

After about four months, we had all settled into a nice routine; and we lived like a real family. By this time, David and I were practically experts on all the drugs and their interactions and side effects that all had to be monitored and dealt with. My Johnny was getting excellent care. I could tell he wasn't always coherent, but that was fine for now. Actually I thought it was a good time to make a few changes in our legal and financial status. One day when he was anxious for lunch, I sat him down and said, "We'll have a nice lunch right after you sign these papers."

We zipped through those papers faster than the time it takes to grill a tuna fish sandwich and heat up some tomato soup. Johnny was mine, and I would always take care of him; and now I had the means to do so. The papers were sent off to all the lawyers and banks, and before long, all of the mail was in my name only. Next came the divorce papers. I had every intention of divorcing Johnny immediately, so I could better care for him as his guardian. But I just couldn't go through with it. I just loved him that much. I also discovered how difficult it would be, what with explanations and examinations, for me to become his guardian; but once again it was the internet to the rescue. Before long I had so much paperwork proving my authority over Johnny that no one would ever question it, whether I was married to him or not.

It was soon after David moved in that Johnny's body seemed to have balanced itself out. David and I took to having our morning coffee in the big master bathroom to be with Johnny during his morning routines. I should explain that I loved this bathroom. It was very large, and the shower was separate from the tub. The black marble tile went from floor to ceiling; and indirect lighting shimmered throughout the room.

Every morning was the same, first the toilet then shower. We would relax and talk, while watching Johnny through the glass shower door. All that wonderful light olive, hairless baby skin displaying no muscle mass at all. He had no secrets from us anymore, and required no privacy.

Even his face had become more androgynous. But those big brown eyes and thick long eyelashes were still there, along with rich black wavy hair. He used to spend a lot of money on a haircuts . Now I was cuttiing it at home. It became much simpler and cleaner looking, with a part on the side. I thought it best to dress him as if he were slightly retarded, lots of pull-over striped shirts, jeans, and sneakers. That way he wouldn't attract attention, and people would be nice to him. David and I decided he was about 14 now. He was only 5'3", so he could easily pass as that age.

What a wonderful thing it was for Johnny to be able to start all over again. Except this time, I will be here to guide him. He looked so cute. It was at this time he started sleeping by himself in his very own bed in the never before used child's bedroom. It was a long time coming. I just didn't feel comfortable having him in the master bedroom with me anymore.

SIX

Although Johnny would always come first, I loved David as well. Except for being gay, he was the type of man that a lot of women wanted. He was physically handsome and mentally sound. But because of his newfound influence over Johnny, it was now my business to subtly develop my influence and authority over him. At first I wasn't sure how to go about this. David seemed so confident about his actions. But soon after he moved in, I was the one who suggested that he quit his job. There was more than enough money to take care of us all.

He acted reluctant. He didn't want to be seen as taking advantage of me; although, I knew he was chomping at the bit. Just as with Johnny, I knew what he was thinking before he did. Before long, he was enjoying free food, rent, and best of all, a fag hag who was very generous with her money. I was making withdrawals from teller machines every other day. Within a span of a month, the household budget ballooned by over four hundred dollars a week. When David was sent out with a hundred dollars to pick up a bag of groceries, he never brought back change. After the first month, he felt comfortable enough to go into my purse without asking for forty or fifty dollars. All the while, I played the happy hostess heading up the gravy train.

It remained unspoken, but, both David and I knew the direction this was all heading. It became a subtle dance of continually advancing my will on him.

"David, I really need you out of bed by eight, to help me with Johnny" I would say.

"David, you need to let me know when you want to go out, so I can plan ahead with Johnny."

"David, I really think that three nights a week with your friends at the bar is

enough."

He didn't think that I had an ultimate plan, only that I was a natural nag. After all, he was my best friend, he was gay, and had an active life, sexually and otherwise. But he was compliant with my growing list of demands, as long as the money kept flowing.

I put him under our health insurance, something he hadn't had since leaving the Marines. Now his health, i.e. body, was my business. I took him into my doctor and had a full compliment of blood tests and exams. Almost unbelievably, he came back clean for any STI's. I had him vaccinated like a prize bull for everything the doctor and I could think of. He appreciated the medical attention, but I don't think it dawned on him that he could no longer fuck around, or just do anything that he pleased. He agreed to always use condoms, only go out a couple of nights a week, and cut back on smoking pot which was one of his favorite passtimes.

But I knew that, just like a teenager, he was finding ways to sneak around my rules. Finally, just as I had with Johnny, I put my foot down. Late one night he came home drunk, smelling of pot, and clearly fucked out. I didn't start screaming or nagging. I calmly went to his bedroom and spoke in a hushed voice.

"As long as you're living under my roof, your going to follow my rules. Do you understand me David Shepherd?"

He nodded his cloudy head, but it was clear he was only pandering to me.

"Take your clothes off" I said.

He looked at me quizzically.

"I mean it," I said, "Take off all of your fucking clothes!"

With a half smile, he stripped down to nothing.

"Lay on the bed, face down."

For a moment, we just stared at each other, and finally he slowly turned his face down into the pillow. This was the make or break moment for David and me. Either he would submit himself, or he wouldn't. I pulled a leather paddle out from under the bed. SLAP!!!

His body arched and he let out a bark that was as unexpected as the slap. He had a look of shock on his face as he turned to me. His big round bottom was red as a beat already.

"Now David," I said, "You will either follow my rules or you will leave my house tonight. Make your decision now."

His look of shock went unchanged, and his breathing was deep and involuntary.

After a few more moments, I asked, "Are you ready for nine more and then bed?"

Again he said nothing. Finally he turned his head into the pillow.

"Yes" he said quietly.

I was merciless with the paddle. With each stroke he quivered and cringed. After the Seventh, he was shaking, and by the tenth, there was no hiding the fact that he was sobbing. I think the alcohol and pot were as much to blame, but as long as it got through to him.

Finally, I told him to turn over. Through many conversations with David over the years, I knew that he was a top; and as a top, never felt it necessary to use a condom. In his own way, I knew that he was as much of an irresponsible little boy as Johnny. I also knew that this had to change. From under the bed, I pulled out another device I had gotten from the sex shop. It was stainless steal and consisted of a ring with a curved tube attached to it. It was a male chastity device. It not only keeps the wearer from touching or playing with his toy, but keeps it from inflating and getting hard. There were three slits in the end for peeing and a minimum amount of ventilation.

"We'll go over the rules tomorrow, David. But I want you to get use to wearing this tonight."

The look of shock had turned to amazement as he watched me run his dick though the tube and clamp the tight ring around the base of his balls. It locked together, with the only key in my possession. This was no joke.

The thing is, as with a most men, gay men in particular, David was a slave to his sexual desires. My control over him would depend on my ability to control and direct those desires in a positive way for Johnny and me. He could have stopped the paddling at any point, or kept me from locking up his dick. But he took the pain and imprisonment because of the sexual excitement attached to it. It took me a while to figure this out, but even though David was gay, I knew that I could train him to live under my rules as long as I could successfully manipulate his sexual energies.

The next morning, I told him to stay in his room while I got Johnny showered and made made breakfast. As Johnny ate and watched TV, David and I had a long talk. We both knew that our relationship as friends was either going to change or end. I would no longer be his fag hag. I would be his matriarch. The pot and alcohol had warn off, leaving a dull headache as he sat, still naked on the bed. I promised him that in return for his true submission, that he could live a fulfilling life, sexually and otherwise, and would never have to worry about money. I told him that he would have to undergo a therapy of his own, just as Johnny was continuing his.

"Just trust me, David" I said.

Just as I knew Johnny, I knew David. I knew how his mind worked. He knew that if he walked out of this house, it would be back to that crummy job, a dirty little apartment, and awash in credit card debt. After a while, he gazed down at his imprisoned manhood.

"Leslie," he said, "Let's get one thing straight. I will NEVER agree to losing my dick and balls like you've done to Johnny. I'm not stupid. I will know if you start drugging me."

"I would never do that, David. I need you. We both need your strength."

The truth is, I knew that to control Johnny, I had to take his genitals away, but to control David, I had to give his sex drive much greater influence over him. For instance, through his attraction to Johnny.

"I wasn't going to talk to you about this yet, but maybe this is the right time."

He looked up at me.

"I feel that we are almost ready to take the next step in Johnny's treatment. I need you to train him in the position I feel would be best for him."

David was confused.

"He already looks up to you. You need to guide him. He had many years as a traditional husband, and it didn't bring him happiness. I know this will be best for him."

Slowly, David asked, "You mean you want me to fuck him?"

"I want you to condition him to feel sexually satisfied within the bounds of his new status in our home."

"I don't know Leslie..."

"It's not for you to know! It's for me to tell you!" I snapped at him.

His head pulled back, and I could sense his respect for my authority.

"Now are you going to go back to a life that is even more pathetic than Johnny's was, or are you going to give this a try?" I said, glaring at him.

He paused.

"Think about it David. Your life as just another faggot bartender was hopeless and sad. If you died today, your memory would be gone within a year by everyone but me. I'm the only one that cares about you. I am the only one that cares about your, mind, body, and spirit. Your apartment, belongings, and work are shit. Do you really want to give up on Johnny and me, and go back to that?"

More silence.

"I will try."

"Alright, " I said, "besides, that's not going to start for several weeks yet."

"OK."

"You have to start calling me Ma'am."

More silence.

"Now go take a shower."

Pause.

"Yes Ma'am."

He briskly walked to the bathroom, his chastity device bouncing along in front of him.

I started educating myself in order to control David by reading a lot of erotic stories about S&M, bondage, and sub/dom relationships. As a woman, this wasn't going to be easy. But I felt that if I could regiment his life, control it, that with time, he would become naturally and fully submissive to me. I decided that the next month would be about keeping Johnny at status quo, while starting intensive therapy on David.

I knew that he really wasn't taking it too seriously at the moment, and quite possibly rolling his eyes at me behind my back; but once again, I knew what he was thinking before he did. He wasn't prepared to truly submit to me, or even really trust me. In fact, love him as I did, I knew that a major reason that he had come even this far was the prospect of having his debts paid off.

I would use those debts to my full advantage. But while he kept his eye on that carrot, I would be making a full frontal attack on his identity. David's achilles heel was overconfidence in that identity.

At this point I can only hope that you, my reader, will understand what I had to do for the sake of my family. I started reading a great deal about a boy named Shawn Hornbeck. He was abducted by a man named Michael Devlin, and within a month, had complete psychological control over Shawn. This was going to be difficult for me, but I knew for the sake of my family, it had to be done.

SEVEN

The real work started the day after I shackled his penis. I was walking a fine line at first, because I wanted an intensive therapy, but, at least in theory, it was all voluntary and drug free. But my family comes first, and Johnny, and now David, are my family. That's why I was so keen on getting him started on his own therapeutic medications. After all these years, and especially the past few months, he still didn't grasp just how goal oriented I was. Did he really think I wanted him as a sort of live-in nanny with a promise of money to pay him off like a prostitute? I have to shake my head in amazement that after all this time, he didn't understand that I, and I alone, am now the head of this house, and there is no negotiating that fact.

But first, I hit the sex shop again for close to three hundred dollars in gear, and then got to work. Johnny was in bed at nine, as usual. David was on the couch watching TV, when I told him that I had bought some pot for him. His ears perked up like a cat with catnip.

"The only thing is you have to smoke in the master bathroom where the fan can get rid of the smoke. I don't want Johnny smelling it."

"Yes Ma'am" he said with a little too much emphasis.

It all seemed very conspiratorial and fun, as we headed to the bathroom. There he found a beautiful glass bong already filled with ice and water just waiting for him. He looked like a kid, as he sat cross-legged on the black marble floor. Within half and hour he was as mellow as an overripe banana.

"OK David, I want you to stand up. Come on, stand up."

Slowly he made it to his feet.

"OK David, take your clothes off."

He grinned and whiffed. He didn't have to say a word, but I knew what he was thinking.

"Lady, I'm gay OK? This is turning into a joke, and you're a joke for trying. Just let me chill."

But I persevered, "David! Do what I say, and take your clothes off!"

Slowly he unbuttoned, and removed all of his clothes, with nothing on but his chastity device.

"David, would you like some more pot?"

"Yeah" he said.

"Good, then get down on all fours in the shower."

He slowly picked up the bong and took it into the shower, where he was concentrating on lighting it up again. After he took a long deep breath, I turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. He hadn't noticed that I had replaced the shower head with an unusual attachment which was already lubed and promptly stuck up his ass.

He tried to move forward, but it was too late. Water was filling up his large intestine. I turned off the water and told him to hold it in. I had his full attention now. He had a kind of numb hypnotic expression on his face, as I took him by the ear and led him out of the shower and on to the toilet, where everything in his large intestine surged out, as well as cutting a tremendous fart. I was holding his ear and staring into his eyes the whole time. I could tell that he was so embarrassed.

He had rarely allowed himself to be fucked. But I, a woman, had just fucked him. After a minute, I told him to stand up. I unlocked his dick and told him to bend over so that I could wipe his bottom. He was unsteady, but obeyed me. Afterward, I told him to flush the toilet. It's hard to explain, but it's very demeaning to know that somebody else is seeing your shit in the toilet.

"Now sit down and smoke a little more."

This time he did as I said, obediently and without any amusement. After a while, I washed and dried him off. Then I took him to his bedroom and shackled him to a device that locks his forearms against his lower legs with his hands holding his feet, leaving his face pressed against the bed and his butt high up in the air. For the next couple of hours I massaged and fingered his hole. He would learn over and over that even though I was a woman, he would always be submissive to me. He had never trained his asshole to take a dick. Now I was going to train it for him. He was so tight, and such a crybaby with pain, but slowly he would learn night after night, with the relaxing effects of the marijuana to accept me.

Also, instead of lube, I would substitute Preparation H. This would Shrink the tissue of his anus, as well as slightly anesthetize it. No one had ever paid so much attention to him. He had always been the aggressor. But as I focused on him, he began to respond appropriately. At the end of a long session, I made a point of taking off my shirt and cradling his head in my arms like a baby, and making him suck my tit, as he dozed off to sleep. I would stroke his head and tell him he's a good boy. This was not done in a sexual way; and he obviously didn't take it as sexual, per se. But I think it was kind of a shock to his system, and he accepted it, as I had intended, as a new relationship-building exercise. I would then reaffix his chastity device and let him sleep.

He wouldn't be stepping outside the house for at least a month. I milked him on a regular basis by massaging his prostate from the inside, or making him wear a butt plug while jerking off in front of me. I would never suck his dick, or do anything overtly sexual to please him. Yet, by the end of the first week, I could already see progress. It wasn't a joke anymore. But now I needed to ramp it up.

On the first morning of the second week, he was ready to take the next step. I shackled his ankles to each end of a heavy stick, and locked the middle of the stick to a three foot chain that I had bolted to the floor. Then I handcuffed his hands behind his back. I brought out the most comfortable looking gag that the sex shop had. It still allowed him to breathe, but a wide feeding tube in his mouth made talking all but impossible. As he lay in bed, propped up and relatively comfortable, he watched as I meticulously gathered up all of his clothes, wallet, jewelry, title to his car, financial records, everything of his, and put them in four garbage bags, just as we had done to Johnny's things which had previously occupied the room.

He started getting very agitated and kept trying to yell his words around the the feeding tube gag. But there was little he could do, as I carried them to the front door. Earlier, he had heard me telling Johnny to wait outside. Now he heard as I told Johnny to put the bags in the car. David tried to clamber out of bed, but ended up face down on the floor against the strength of the chain. He was seriously pissed off now.

When we got back a couple of hours later, I found him back on the bed, but refusing to look at me. From the guest room, you can see into the back yard where I had sent Johnny to pull weeds. David was in no mood to cooperate.

"David Honey, you at least need to drink something. It's nearly noon."

He pulled his face away when I tried to take hold of it.

"I have some orange juice here, David, I want you to calm down and drink it."

He whipped his head back and screamed profanities that even the gag couldn't muffle. It was time to show him that I was serious too.

"Alright, David, I want you to turn over."

Again, no response, as he lay on his back.

"Alright, have it your way" I said.

I took out a little riding crop and slapped his balls with a sound that denoted how painful it must have been. He let out another one of those barks and his face turned bright red. He tried to pull his legs up for protection, but the chain kept him fully exposed.

"Turn over for me please, David."

Now whimpering, he turned over, exposing his nice big man's bottom.

"We're going to try ten, and then see if you'll drink your orange juice."

I brought out a wooden paddle and went to work, showing no mercy. With each whack, he barked and groaned. This time it was at six that he started full out crying. He was an emotional basket case by the time I finished.

"Now turn over so I can give you some juice."

He slowly did what I asked of him. I sat down and cradled his head and torso like a baby again. He was still crying and coughing. I couldn't bear to keep the gag on any longer. He coughed and cried some more as I held him and kissed his head.

"Now drink your juice" I said, as I held the glass to his lips.

He obediently drank it, between muscle spasms he was having from crying so hard. Why was he crying so hard? Surely it wasn't just the physical pain. I was hitting something else. Whatever it was, I will find and exploit it for David's own good.

"I need to use the bathroom" he quietly said.

It was noontime and he hadn't used the bathroom all day. I was way ahead of him. In another act to gain his submission through humiliation, I pulled out a bedpan.

"Scrunch to the lower part of the bed and put your knees up" I said.

He saw the pan and turn his head, closing his eyes.

"David, do as I say."

He finally did, and I easily slid the pan in the proper place. The chastity device worked well because the open end curved right down into the pan as he peed. Then I pushed the stick, pressing his knees further up, and out came two healthy logs along with farts. His face showed that he could have died with this loss of privacy. But I couldn't have been happier. I wiped him with some moistened towlets and removed the pan.

"Alright David, I want you to stay here in your room today" I said as I tried to buckle the gag back in his mouth.

"No" he protested.

I instantly picked up the riding crop and slapped his balls. Within a minute, the gag was back on. Once again, I knew what he was thinking before he did. He didn't talk back or threaten me because he knew that would simply mean more punishment. Right now he definitely saw me as a crazy bitch; but he was going to bide his time, until he could get free. He would take as much money as he could, possibly vandalize the house, and then get the fuck out of there. I'm sure he was doing a lot of thinking alone all day in his bedroom. He couldn't go to the police, because then the whole Johnny situation would be exposed; a situation which he had been an accessory in committing. At the moment he didn't know if he had any belongings at all.

"She had plenty of samples of my signature. Did she sell my car?"

He also knew that I could keep him here indefinitely, and start the whole drug regimen on him.

"By the time I wake up, my dick might be smaller than Johnny's."

Every couple of hours, I would come in to check on him. I would bring him something cool to drink, which I would pour into the tube in the gag. After Johnny's bedtime, it was time to go back to work with David. He hadn't eaten all day, and was emotionally frazzled.

I ordered him back on his stomach, bottom in the air, with the arm to shin shackle. He slowly complied. I worked for an hour or so lubing, massaging, and stretching his hole. This was the first time without the use of pot. He groaned and gyrated. I knew he was focussing in order to relieve some of the stress. For the first time, I used a vibrating dildo and pressed it hard against his prostate. Animalistic howls, high and low, filled the room over and over again.

I knew the he was really opening new areas in his brain. Every muscle tensed and relaxed again. Even though he looked to be in pain, he was actually experiencing ecstasy. Cum continually oozed out of the Chastity device. Finally, I slowly pulled out of him. I unshackled his weak arms and legs, and let him rest.

I took the gag off. His jaw muscles were frozen open. I massaged his face for several minutes; and then inserted a large joint between his lips and lit it. He inhaled deeply. After he finished, I left him for a minute and brought in a tray of food. His hunger, now enhanced by the pot was overwhelming. His only thought was of food, as I cradled him in my arms again. I spoon fed him the beef stew, macaroni salad, and soft drink. He was now shaky and helpless as a baby. His eyes had been red and watery since this morning, and he had no intention of fighting me, at least not tonight.

"Is that good?

"Yes Ma'am" he whimpered.

For the first time, I really looked at his body. It was beautiful. It was the body any man would be proud of. I had never really thought about it before, but looking at him, I really did find him sexually attractive. At some point, I'm going to have to start thinking of myself. I think I could be quite content if I could train David to have sex with me. But that's for a later date. After he finished, I wiped his mouth.

"I want to show you something now, David."

I pulled him up against the pillows and went out into the hallway. I came back in carrying the bags with all of his things. He stared at them not knowing what to think. I tore each one of them open, letting the contents fall onto the floor.

"It's all here." I said.

I came back over to him, unlocked, and removed the chastity device so I could clean him. I decided to keep it off.

"I'm going to leave your legs locked up for the night, alright?"

With such a softness in his voice he said, "Yes Ma'am."

I locked his ankles back to the ends of the stick, which was chained and bolted to the floor. I had him pee again, and told him to go to sleep now. He was exhausted, confused, and best of all, broken. That was exactly what I wanted. The real treatment can start tomorrow. I had given him a strong sedative in the stew. Within ten minutes he was sound asleep. The morning would bring new challenges. I walked through the quiet house and checked on my Johnny. Both of my boys were asleep. I felt such joy and a new sense of responsibility for them both.

EIGHT

In the morning, long before Johnny was up, I went through David's papers and paid off his credit cards, and then cut them up. Since David had moved in, he had put most of his things in storage. I hired some illegals to go to the unit and help themselves to every stick of furniture and appliance in the container. And yes, I had already taken his car to a dealership and sold it at a rock bottom price. While it's true that I hadn't disposed of his belongings in the garbage bags, I had no intention of ever giving them back. Just as with Johnny, he had to start from scratch if this was going to work.

This was going to be tall order taking care of both of them. Staying on top of Johnny's meds was the most important thing. I first thought that the best course of action would be to add an extra sedative to his lunch, so he would take a nice long afternoon nap for me over the next month or so. But then I thought "no", Johnny must be incorporated into this. David's position in the house was going to be a tricky balance. Johnny was going to learn to trust and respect David's authority over him, and my authority over both of them.

At noon, I walked in to David's room. He was still in deep sleep. I felt such affection for him, such love, but this was no time to go soft. I set the two 10MG valium tablets and a glass of water on the night stand, unlocked his ankles, and took hold of his ear.

"Come on sleepy head. It's time to get up."

I gently pulled on his ear to get him to raise his head, so that I could prop it up with pillows. It didn't go without notice that he did what I ordered almost reflexively. His body and mind were learning to accept my authority without question. I held the valium in one hand and glass of water in the other.

"I want you to swallow these, alright David?"

He looked at the pills and then at me. With a mixed look of trust and resignation, he took the pills from my hand and washed them down with water. I couldn't help but smile. I set the glass down, held his head in my hands, and kissed his cheek.

Finally, I led him to the master bedroom bathroom where, for the first time, it would be me and Johnny watching David on the toilet. I had set Johnny on the floor where he watched passively as David used the toilet, with all the sights, sounds, and smells that go along with it. I could tell that David had moved beyond the "how did it come to this" stage. I had already filled the tub with warm water and bubble bath.

"Johnny, do you remember I told you that David wasn't feeling very well?"

He nodded.

"Well, he needs your help this morning."

I quickly stood David up and wiped his bottom and flushed. Then I lead him to the tub and had him kneel on all fours in it.

"OK Johnny, he's a big dog right now and I want you to wash him."

With his morning meds kicking in, I think Johnny enjoyed the idea that David was now a dog. Without a thought, He scooted over to the tub, picked up the sponge and started running it across his back. As he stared down, a serene, pleasant look came over David's face.

I don't think Johnny thought of it as sexual at all. The sponge worked its way to his bottom, down his crack, and swished around between his legs. The bubbles were getting higher. They looked so sweet. I just wanted to get my camera. I thought about having Johnny in there with him. My two little boys taking a bath together. But, I decided to hold off on that.

"OK David, just sit down."

Johnny was really getting into his work, scrubbing his arms, hands, legs, and feet. I had to crack a smile when he worked up a big pile of foam on David's head. With his eyes only half-open and the heavy dose of valium, along with the after effects of the sedative coursing through him, he really did look like just a big dumb dog. Before he was too relaxed, I shaved his face, and rinse him off in the shower. I was glad to see that David's penis had stayed flaccid, and it wasn't just about getting a sexual charge. When it came time for him to get dressed, I sent Johnny out to watch TV.

I believed that David's confidence came from the fact that he was so masculine and strong. I thought it was about time that he got in touch with his inner faggot. I had started out the morning with a heavy dose of valium, in order to get him to accept what was coming next. I had achieved partial temporary dominance over him through pain, drugs, force, anxiety, confusion, and humiliation. Once again, it was time to ramp it up.

A blank look came over his face as I pulled out a large pair of silk panties for him.

"No" he whined.

"Put them on David, or we'll have to go back to your room."

He knew what that meant so he slowly put them on. Then a tight pink tank-top, and finally a really cute pleated cotton miniskirt with built in crotch support. As we looked in the full-length mirror, I thought he looked adorable.

He desperately smiled and exhaled.

"I don't want Johnny to see me like this. Please......."

"What's the matter? You look fine" I said.

He had such a sad impotent look on his face. I hugged him.

"David, we're all family here. Just go sit with Johnny."

I led him to the door. He looked at me again for reassurance, and then slowly walked out to the living room. I listened as I heard the leather couch crunch under his weight. I peaked out and saw Johnny staring at him.

In a low voice and eyes cast down, David said, "She wants me to dress like this."

"Oh" was all Johnny said, and then turned back to the TV.

I was so happy. That was the only explanation he needed to give. I wanted it, therefore, that's the way its going to be. I could feel my control growing greater by the hour. I started out by taking voluntary physical control over him and setting a strong re-enforced agenda. Through drugs and repetitive actions, along with a manipulation of his sexual desires, I took away any sense of a right to privacy. I took ownership of every aspect of his body. I subjected him to a state of infancy as he suckled me. And finally, I physically and mentally removed the supports he thought he had, only to return some of them to achieve a feeling of gratefulness and renewed trust. Within the first eight days, I was his mistress. I had discovered his vulnerabilities.

NINE

But let's be honest, even though he was my best friend and truly liked and supported me, his decision to move in and quit his job was really a selfish one. He thought it would be a nice, temporary break from the work-a-day world, as well as a possible quick-fix to his debt problems. I know that; and I don't blame him. Also, I'm not blind to the fact that the way in which I'm helping Johnny could be seen as somehow wrong; but David went along with it, with little more than an bemused smile at the sight of Johnny's reversion to childhood.

But he didn't count on my ability to learn his secrets. Secrets that he didn't even know he was keeping. Even now, he may feel that his will, and his will alone, is the true arbiter of whether he stays or goes; that somehow he really is just taking advantage of me and my money. I don't mind if he thinks that. In fact I encourage it, as long as his imagined willpower compels him to remain here under my authority. I know his subconscious buttons to push.

Why did he cry so much when I spanked him? He once told me that his mother had been rather distant and cold. As I've been reading, this is exactly how Wallace Simpson had such control over the Duke of Windsor. When the duke was a boy, he was found by his mother playing with her jewels. In an act, completely out of character, she immediately took the future king over her knee and spanked him relentlessly. It was one of the only times that he ever had physical contact with his mother. Eventually, Edward VIII, king of England, literally gave up his crown to a woman with the will and audacity to spank his bottom when he was bad, and forever treat him as the boy he truly was.

Why was he so ashamed at the thought of another man seeing him dressed like this? Obviously, it was his overcompensating male ego. It may have served him well in the military, but now it was his achilles heel. The more I forced effeminacy upon him, the further control I have over that ego.

As I prepared his breakfast, I mixed in his new drug cocktail. I started out with three or four milligrams of Cialis, the erectile disfunction drug. As its effects last for up to thirty-six hours, I could easily keep him on a very low permanent dosage. For a man with no sexual disfunction, this would keep his entire groin in a state of sexual anticipation.

Most of the day, I would allow him freedom from the chastity device, but keep his hands cuffed behind him instead. That way he could feel his penis literally urging him to play, yet he was powerless to relieve himself. He would spend afternoons walking around the house or watching TV and his penis always on the verge of making his miniskirt rise up in the front. The only other drug I kept him on was a high dose of valium. This was just to keep his reality slightly off center for the time being.

By the late evenings, he would be literally panting with frustration with a rock hard erection, as he waited for my attentions to be focused on him. He would eagerly climb onto the bed and bend over a pile of pillows, to be locked into his restraints so that I could work on his asshole. Each time, he would eventually gasp and squirt into a small bowl I had put under him; always with groans and howls that came from the deepest part of himself. His entire body would learn that my attention and dominance was much more valuable than anything else he had ever known or wanted. Thank you Wallace Simpson.

He would then happily accept the sedative and be knocked out within ten minutes. As he slept, I would shave his pubic hair, or give him a haircut, use face paint on him, pierce his ears or tits, all sorts of fun things; so that he would have a nice surprise in the morning. By the end of the month that I had alloted for David, I was more than satisfied with his progress. So much so that I was sure he wanted more. So as a graduation gift, he woke up on the first day of the fifth week with a Prince Albert locked through his penis. I had to pay a heavy bribe to entice the man to come out to the house and do it to an unconscious "customer".

It is said that Queen Victoria's husband, Prince Albert, sported quite a large German penis. In fact, it was so prominent that it interfered with the cut of the rather tight fitting trousers of the day. So he had a ring inserted through his urethra, puncturing the bottom part of the gland. A leather strap was inserted through the ring and tied around his leg in order to keep his member in a correct position. Hearing these stories, I have nothing but profound respect for the women of English royalty and the authority they hold over their men's private parts. God only knows what Queen Elizabeth has had done to Prince Philip.

Around this time, I did a lot of research and shopping to see if I could increase David's semen volume. I wanted to take him in the exact opposite direction of Johnny to achieve the same goal. There seemed to be a lot of snake oil out there, so I eventually gave up on increasing his volume in favor of teaching him piss play. I would never give him anything like crystal meth, however, I read that because crystal users can stay up for days at a time and are constantly horny, they run out of semen rapidly. So they learn to get an erotic charge out of piss play. This was all new to me, and I certainly didn't have any interest in it. However, it gave me a new and powerful tool to use on David.

First, I would keep him well hydrated, and when he had to go, I would have him lie down in the tub filled with warm shallow water. The first time he did, I gently held his penis with two fingers and told him to pee. His knees were up and wide like a baby on a changing table, and through his pot induced haze, he started peeing. The stream shot nearly three feet up. David and I both smiled. This was kind of fun. Like a fountain, I aimed it this way and that, until I let it splatter his forehead for the longest time. After he was through, I soaped up his dick and massaged it to rock hard status in a matter of seconds; and came soon after that. I conditioned him to get a sexual charge out of simple urination. Piss play became a very important repetitive tool for me.

I started to think more about the relationship I wanted my boys to have with each other. How could I keep humiliating and forcing David into submission, while at the same time, keep him in a superior position over Johnny. I decided to let things flow more naturally between them, and not worry so much. When David needed more discipline, I would spank him right there in the living room where Johnny could see. And when Johnny started screaming or pouting, David would easily pull him over his knee, jerk his pants down and slap his bottom red until he had had enough.

When I let David masturbate, I would often hold his head and order him to tell me exactly what he was thinking. Early on, it would be some hot little bottom boy he had known. But then after I started the piss play, his fantasies started changing. He imagined pissing in the sink, in the backyard, and finally, pissing on Johnny. I didn't find this at all attractive. But that didn't matter. Obviously, this was a primal male territorial reflex. He now saw Johnny as part of his territory.

TEN

Of course, he wanted to mark his territory, including Johnny. After that, I knew the time was right. I kept David's penis under lock and key for a couple of days, so his semen could regenerate. I withheld the sleeping pills I usually mix into Johnny's 8pm snack, and instead added a small dose of valium. Earlier in the day, I told David that I expected him to leave his semen inside Johnny tonight. He looked at me as if I had granted him a thousand year life.

"Yes Mistress" was all he could say.

This was the most important decision I had made since the very beginning; and good or bad, it would have the greatest impact. The order immediately put David in predator mode. Throughout dinner he barely spoke a word. Johnny would look over at him and David would turn away. When Johnny turned back to his plate, David would take quick sharp glances at him. Throughout TV watching time, Johnny sat oblivious to what was going on inside David.

Second thoughts had been developing in me since the moment I said the words. By the time we were sitting on the couch, I began seriously fearing for Johnny's life. I had taken David into primal places, kept him there for weeks, and now I was about to unleash him onto my prepubescent husband. I watched as David glared at the TV and started taking deep measured breaths. I realized that he was completely detached from reality, as he focused on the one whom he had wanted for years, and was now obsessed with taking, voluntarily or not. He preferred not. He wanted to do to Johnny what had been done to him, what I had done to him. He wanted to brutalize and rape Johnny.

At this point, it may be too late, unless I could get him shackled within the next few minutes. I had suddenly lost confidence in myself and all trust in David. A shock of terror went through me, as I thought about the monster I had created. What in God's name had I done to the two men I love more than anyone else in the world? I was responsible for the danger Johnny was in. I knew that if I tried to interfere, David might kill me too. I also knew that at this stage, Johnny would object, and have to have it forced upon him. I had made the assumption that David knew this as well; and would only use as much force as necessary to achieve the ultimate goal. I foolishly forgot that at this point of stimulation and sexual arousal, men are submerged in primal instinct, incapable of the subtleties with which the situation required. I also knew that time was up. Any second he would take Johnny by the hand and go to the bedroom. Without thinking, I stood up.

"David, would you help me in the kitchen for a moment?"

Johnny looked up at me. I smiled and touched the black waves on his head.

"Stay here, Honey."

David looked startled, but got up and followed me into the kitchen, his 6'3" frame towering above me. I went to the far end of the kitchen, turned around, and held my hand up to the side of his face. He stared with his jaw clinched shut. He was standing only six inches away; and I know for a fact that he suddenly realized that he was more powerful then me. I had no choice but to say what I was about to say. Things had gone to far; and all of our lives depended upon it.

"David, listen to me," I whispered. I started to cry.

"He belongs to you, just as you belong to me. Don't hurt him."

He stood staring blankly.

"Please."

Then I could see him watching as fear had taken over, and I was shaking. Slowly, humanity returned to the pupils, then irises, and finally whites of his eyes. They filled with tears and his mouth opened. He collapsed to the floor crying. In a few moments there was Johnny.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" he screamed.

"Nothing Honey, go back in the other room."

"No! What's wrong with David?!"

"It's alright, Honey."

I ran over to him, and pushed him back into the living room. By now, he was sobbing as hard as David.

"Come on, Honey. Let's get you ready for bed. David will be fine. I promise."

Still crying, I stripped him down to nothing and took him in to wash his face. By the time I had him in bed, he was calming down.

"Everything will be fine tomorrow. Good night, Honey" I said, closing the door to the dark bedroom.

I slowly walked back to the kitchen. I found David had opened the window over the sink, and was leaning over to breathe in the night air.

"How...How is it that you are always right?" he said, tears falling from his cheeks.

I slowly went over to where he was standing.

"Because I always know what you and Johnny are thinking. Because I love you both so very much." I cried, "I'm sorry for what I put you through. I truly am. I hope you can forgive me. I was just trying to make us a family."

He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face.

"I'm a big boy." he said, trying to smile.

As he bent over the sink, he looked down at his bare legs.

"You know something?" he laughed.

"What?"

"I've really grown to like these cotton miniskirts."

Both of us were laughing and crying at the same time. I gently took his hand and led him to the living room. He laid down on the couch, his head in my lap. I gently stroked his hair as we watched some TV.

After a while, we decided to take Johnny's lead, and go to bed early. As I lay there, minutes turned into an hour. Finally, I heard David's door open. After a few long seconds, I heard Johnny's door open, and then nothing. I waited and searched the dark with my eyes for a clue to what was going on.

Suddenly I heard Johnny say, "No! Stop it!"

There was silence, and then he screamed, "Leslie!"

I heard muffled screams and then a slap. Then David.

"Now stop it!"

Johnny started crying, and soon after a rhythmic grunting. It went on and on. Then it stopped. There was the sound of kissing and shuffling of sheets; and then it started again. Johnny gasping and groaning. Part of him was dying, and part being born. I lay there listening for hour after hour. At this point I was powerless. Johnny was most certainly powerless; and David was powerless to his carnal urges, curbed only by my civilizing influence over him.

As dawn broke and Johnny's moans hadn't ceased, I knew what had to be done. The full force of David's sexuality had to be brought down on Johnny night after night after night, until Johnny knew nothing else but David's authority over him in the bedroom, and mine everywhere else. He was a prisoner within his own body and mind, and David and I were his keepers. He would know from now on that nothing other than our will would be tolerated ever again. I felt a pang of deep sadness run through me, as I knew my plans had succeeded. I quietly got out of bed, closed my door, and tried to get some sleep for a couple of hours. They were to up by 11, working in the backyard.

ELEVEN

As David and I sat on the bathroom floor with our coffees, we watched Johnny through the shower door. He had a look of exhaustion and serenity on his face. I doubt if he really knew that had been defeated. I had David wear his new Daisy Duke outfit. It made him look sexy as all get out. His butt cheeks fought for space, and there was no hiding the outline of his big dick in the tight little shorts. The shirt was tied just below his tits, showing a slightly bronzed, hairy midriff.

I was meticulous about the heavy dose of valium I mixed with Johnny's breakfast. Any lingering anxiety about last night must be washed away in the here and now. As David cleaned the kitchen, Johnny helped, with barely a hint of anything else on his mind. When he cleaned the hall bathroom, there was Johnny. Outside mowing the lawn, Johnny was there to do the hedging. As I had hoped and planned for, David came in saying he had to use the bathroom.

"No. You have grass stains on your shoes. Pee in the backyard."

"Yes Ma'am!"

I peered out the window and I watched David motion Johnny over to the bushes. It was hard to tell exactly what was going on, but before long, I could see two yellow streams connecting my boys in the shade of the bushes. As you might have guessed, this is not a male phenomenon that I am making up. Many wives often find their husbands peeing in the back yard rather than coming into the bathroom, under the excuse that it was just more convenient. Obviously, there is something very primordial in the act. Anyway, I don't care for it, so I'm not going to talk about it anymore.

During lunch, David couldn't have been happier. On the other hand, Johnny looked as if he were a rather slow student, trying desperately to catch up. His mind must have been enjoying the effects of the medication at the same time as trying to remember something just out of reach. I often caught Johnny just gazing at David; and when Johnny had his back turned, I found David just staring at Johnny and his big butt.

There was no hiding it anymore. He had gained close to twenty-five pounds, but he didn't look like a really fat man. Most of it had settled in his breast and below his waist. Just about once a month, it had been time to buy him a new pair of pants.

The old Johnny would have died had he known that for a nicer fit, I started shopping for his jeans in the full-figured gals department. I spent a great deal of time removing old tags and replacing them with ones that said Levi's 501, size 28 waist. Now he had plenty of room in the rear. In front, thanks to the ladies fit, there was finally the tiniest outline of a penis that wasn't supposed to have been there at all. As I look on it now, he really was just rather full-figured young gal. I had managed to turn my healthy virile husband into a fat teenage girl, to mold and shape him/her as I wished. I came very close to buying him a sports bra for his chubby tits, but decided against it.

In fact, sometime around the seven month point, not long after they started sleeping together in David's room, I just started observing him. I became convinced that I could take him in any direction that I wanted. Of course the therapy would have to become more intensive. I would have to clear his mind of his core identity. I was certain that eventually I could convince him to convince the doctors in Thailand to sign off on his sex change.

By this time next year, he would be subservient to me for the rest of his life, imprisoned in a fat girl's body. There would be nothing he could do about it. His penis would be gone, replaced by a vagina, which his ever-growing breasts wouldn't allow him to see anyway.

There was something greatly satisfying in picturing Johnny in this condition. Within the span of less than two years a one-hundred and forty pound, healthy, successful, and attractive young man would be turned into a two-hundred pound dimwitted female. As a girl, she would be on a continuous regimen of female hormones and medications; forcing any memories of being anything else into a nebulous gray area. Ironically, if anything were ever to happen to me, her real nightmares would begin as reality crept back up to the surface.

I would get her a job at a fast food restaurant, as Johnny would grow her hair and become Joanie. Her androgynous face would never hint at her previous existance. She would come home and find her "mother" having sex with a real man; go to her room, and lay on the bed, like the great caterpillar that she had become. If a man was ever interested in having sex with her, he would find that, for a cute faced girl, she had the rather unattractive fetish of liking to take it up the butt.

The man who had cheated on me, stolen from me, had thoughts of abandoning me, and eventually found sex with anther man more satisfying than with me would be my captive, entirely humiliated and emasculated for the rest of his life. And what of David, the man who had lusted after, and eventually stole my husband away? Does he think himself invulnerable to the very same medications which he helped inflict upon my husband? Move over Joanie. Make room for your less attractive 250 pound sister, Dee.

TWELVE

My God. My God. What was I thinking? I tried to remind myself that I wasn't doing this for personal power or revenge. I loved them both deeply. I'll admit it was a selfish love because I needed Johnny to stay with me; but also selfless because I wanted Johnny, the man, to live a fully satisfying life, regardless of the petty feelings I now knew that I still held against him. I was ready to continue, to move forward, and bring Johnny and David with me.

The three of us seemed to reach a threshold where reality changed, and new patterns of behavior had been laid down. Deep down, past all of the therapy and hard work, we had reached a natural point. Our previous lives seemed a distant memory. I slowly started bringing David down off of his medications. I watched him carefully, but he seemed to grow happier even as the drugs dissipated.

Finally, after eight months of therapy, David and I started having the difficult conversations about lifting the medications that had long settled on Johnny's brain. The next step would be the most dangerous. Was he going to remain happy, or start demanding answers. This was the hardest thing I've ever done. I loved him so much that I couldn't keep him drugged for the rest of his life, yet with a clear mind, would he break up our family and take everything we owned with him?

Although I included David in my thought processes, I knew that the decisions and responsibility were mine alone. My mind was focused on keeping us all together and happy. I kept returning to the same solution, but as if I were shirking my responsibilities, I kept turning away from it, although I knew it was the right course of action. Johnny should be neutered.

Every morning, I would watch him in the shower; and every morning I smiled at the sight of his bouncy, happy, little boy penis, with no scrotum behind it. The contents and sac itself having been absorbed into the rest of him. His testicles, in a state of frozen animation. I had them completely powerless to effect him. If they were no longer imprisoned, they would no doubt influence him to think and do things that were simply not good for any of us.

Yes, I'm sure he would be fine without those offensive grapes hanging on the vine. The procedure is quite simple. I will use a farming implement called a burdizzo. It looks like a large set of wire cutters, but doesn't really cut. It crushes the chords between the body and the testicles, thus starving them of blood. By the time Johnny wakes up in the morning, any sharp pain will be gone, replaced by a dull one, with a bit of swelling. I'll tell him that he just pulled a muscle, and add a couple of vicodin to his drug regimen. As the pain subsides over the next couple of weeks, each testicle will wither to the size of a rather large sunflower seed.

As one might expect, David had very strong misgivings about the procedure. As do most men, he saw the organs as an essential part of being a male. He said Johnny would grow much fatter and lethargic. Even saying that he would become depressed and suicidal. On the whole, I was dismissive of him. I knew how much a slave David was to testosterone driven desires, and in turn to me. Even though his arguments were entirely too subjective and bias, I noted them. The one objection he gave that stuck with me had to do with keeping my options open. There was no harm in waiting until the very moment he started showing signs of aggression or independence. I wasn't going to trade my good little boy for a rebellious teenager. But my final decision needn't be made until then.

I decided to end the estrogen treatments, as well as the depo-provera. David rarely left his side, as they joined a gym. They started spending a great deal of time exercising an drinking those damned protein shakes again. David meekly suggested that I not feed him so much, and I agreed. Little change was evident within the first three or four weeks, but soon after, he started sprouting. By the sixth week, he was noticeably less pudgy; and, like any young man, pubic hair was coming in around his growing genitals. After that, he seemed to be maturing at the rate of about two years per week. Even so, I could hear, through the baby monitor I had put in their room, David constantly reaffirming his authority, and Johnny acquiescing. Finally and reluctantly, I started lowering the doses of the three or four mood and perception altering drugs he was taking.

I started becoming increasingly pleased when I would notice, contrary to becoming more aggressive or independent, Johnny seemed to crave even greater guidance as the drugs faded. But I wanted to take no chances. Around the time that he had matured to about seventeen, I told David that we needed to do some extensive testing to look for signs of rebellious behavior. I know he thought that I was just looking for the least reason to have Johnny neutered; and he was right. But David new better than to go against my wishes. After the initial trauma, he was so successfully conditioned that he would have been hard pressed to argue with me about his own neutering.

I wanted him to be more domineering with Johnny, in order to see how far we could take him. Johnny was a little late for breakfast, so David pretended to be very angry with him. Within moments, he had Johnny over his knee, bottom up, right there in the kitchen, receiving twenty sharp spanks. Johnny was upset, but in no way showed any sign that David didn't have every right to treat him as he had. As the days went by, David greatly increased his chores, and became very strict, or at least as strict as he could toward Johnny. There was really no hiding how much he loved him.

At first, we were on pins and needles, as we noticed that he wasn't a little retarded boy anymore. We went on as if nothing had changed, although our anxieties were hard to disguise. At every turn, I tried to read what Johnny could be thinking. David also watched him closely, as he continued his mentoring.

In the evenings, David started training him in good hygiene habits for a sexually active bottom. Johnny was never asked if he wanted to be a total bottom. It was simply going to be his natural place in this house. His idolatry of David was clearly evident, as he took an active interest in learning how to please him. As they slept, Johnny's head was always nestled next to David's breast, or David's hand on Johnny's bottom. Even I was surprise at what enchanted fulfillment Johnny showed on his face when David was deep inside him. I often stood at their door and watched as my two boys became one. Yet I still wasn't certain about whether it would be best just to do away with those darned testicles of his.

THIRTEEN

Ten months after the those first sleeping pills went into that beef stroganoff, I was sure most of the drugs had dissipated. I was genuinely sad when his little boy penis plumped back out to its former size; and those awful balls reappeared, as if to gloat.

At dinner one night, I casually, yet with care said, "You know Johnny, I'm considering whether or not it would be best for you to have your testicles removed." I specifically avoided the word "castrate" because of the ridiculous and unjustified connotations it has received over the years.

Johnny held his fork in what looked like a state of mild shock. Slowly he raised his eyes to David, who had practiced this moment, so as not to show any emotion.

"Why?" he asked.

While cutting another slice of meat-loaf for him, I said, "Johnny, it's really not for you to ask why; only for you to trust me, and know that I always have your best interests at heart."

He was quiet for the rest of dinner. During the evening, David was particularly loving to him. They kissed and nuzzled while watching TV, and went to bed early. It had become customary for them to never wear anything in their bedroom. So they walked in, and without a word between them, stripped. Johnny slowly climbed onto the bed and remained on all fours in a submissive pose, waiting for David to clasp him from behind and mount him.

Ironically, it was that response that convinced me not to go through with the neutering, at least for the time being. Soon after, Johnny and I were sitting at the kitchen table. I looked him in those big brown eyes and asked, "Do you still love me Johnny?"

He looked confused; but without a second thought, he looked up and said,

"Yeah, of course I love David and you. Why?"

It was clear that he now knew and loved his natural place in our home. But now, for him, David came first. I reached across the table and touched his hand. He smiled and kept eating the lunch I had fixed for him. For a moment, I felt a twinge of loss. I was feeling sorry for myself. The objective was to keep Johnny happy and with me. I had achieved that. Everything else was mere footnote. Legal or not, he was no longer my husband. We were three individuals that had found our own way. We had found our natural places in this house and the world. And, by God, it was the way it was supposed to be.

I hadn't used the chastity device on David since his first night with Johnny. Now I was giving him the option to wear his old clothes again. I was pleased when he would come home from the grocery store or running errands, strip out of his street clothes and put on that pleated cotton skirt and tight tank top. Johnny wasn't the only one who had grown more comfortable with himself.

Once or twice a week, I would order David to have sex with me. This is where all the hard work and conditioning really kicked in. Even though he wasn't inclined to eat pussy, my dominance forced him to, just as a Roman slave had for his Mistress. I rarely had to feed him Viagra to get him to fuck me with that big hard dick; and I would kiss him passionately as I sat on top of him, and he held my breasts.

It was at this time that we laid down the last of the family pattern. David started calling me Mistress in front of Johnny, and before long, Johnny did as well. Near the end of his training, it was more than natural to start hearing Johnny call David, Daddy. Without a hint of embarrassment he began to ask me things like, "Mistress, where is Daddy?" But Johnny will always be just Johnny to David and me.

He never mentioned the fact that his business was now owned and operated entirely by me. I think he was afraid that if he even mentioned it, I would give it back to him. His life was too busy now. When I allowed them to go out, David introduced him to his circle of friends. He would firmly take hold of the back of his neck and say, "This is my boy, Johnny" and everyone knew what he meant. Johnny would respectfully shake their hands and call them Sir. And when David would say, "Go buy me a beer and a Coke for yourself." Johnny would be off with a "Yes Sir."

Within six months, Johnny had returned to the hot lean little man that he was before. However, to David's pleasant surprise, hit butt adamantly refused to slim down to quite as small as it had been. With my permission, David ordered Johnny into electrolysis where he had every single hair follicle below the neck removed, except for his armpits. He was an absolutely beautiful sight to watch, as our coffee routine continued in the master bathroom during Johnny's morning activities. David liked him to wear tight bathing suits in the summer, so that his legs and torso would darken like maple syrup, leaving a big white bottom to feast on. As a present, David bought him a pair of buttless chaps, boots, and a collar to wear out at the bars. I'll be damned if he didn't look like the sexiest man that ever lived!

David used his friendships to get Johnny a job, as a bar-back. He hoped to be on staff as a bartender before long. David would tell me that he was so proud of his boy and his achievements. He worked so hard to please us both. I made it clear though that David was to remain at home and take care of domestic responsibilities, one of which was to drive him to and from work. I sold Johnny's car, and he wasn't to have one.

I hold all the legal documents, and neither of them was to have a bank account. Of course the money that Johnny earned was his, but I would hold it for him, and dole it out only for things he needed or for special occasions. David was to remain on a strict allowance from me. He never again asked about all those garbage bags full of his old belongings. Without a second thought, I went ahead with divorce proceedings.

"Yes Mistress" was their one and only response.

None of us were ever happier in our entire lives. On quiet evenings, in bed, I can hear them. As David reaffirms his love and dominance over Johnny, he holds him tightly; and with a serene look on his face, Johnny feels David course through his body. Slowly, David takes Johnny's penis and plump testicles; and they climax together.

"I love you Johnny."

"I love you Daddy."

I had succeeded, and we're a family.

THE END

EPILOGUE

It's been almost seven years since those difficult days. Yet, I look back on them in the same way people read history, as if it couldn't have gone any other way. Of course, America gained its independence. Of course, we won World War II.

Not long after we reached our equilibrium, David celebrated a birthday. As my gift, I presented him with papers to be signed. From then on, he would be known as David Shepherd Gabardi. It started me thinking a great deal about the future. Eventually, I came to another decision. I stopped having sex with David and began purifying my body. I took David into the bedroom and informed him of my plans. He was overcome by emotion. He knelt down in front of me and bowed his head to my feet.

"I'm going to try and have a baby by Johnny first, and then you, David.

I knew exactly how this was going to effect Johnny.

"Oh, no!" he cried.

He tried to get up and walk away, but David had him by the neck and gently made him sit back down.

"Johnny, listen to me" I said, "It's going to be different this time, I promise. You have to trust me."

His mother was there, right in the center of his head. Tears welled up in his eyes. I let David take over. He pulled Johnny up onto his lap, and held him tight.

"You're always going to be my baby boy, do you understand me?"

They looked into each other's eyes, and David started gently rocking him.

"It's gonna be OK."

I waited for just the right days in my cycle. David and I spent a lot of time discussing how to perform the sex. We decided that Johnny would lay flat on the bed, and David would get him hard. At just the right time, he would move up and start kissing him passionately and rubbing his nipples, while I straddled and worked him to orgasm. As soon as it was over, I would leave the room. Two months to the day after we started, I got the news that I was pregnant.

When Giovani was born, there were never more tears of joy seen from a father. The old lady can finally rest in peace. We even named him in honor of Johnny's dad, Giovani Gabardi. He had carried out his manly duty. He was a perfect little boy with black wavy hair, big brown eyes, and beautiful olive skin.

One year and a month later, Alexandra Gabardi arrived. The same public scenes of tears of joy played out all over again, but this time David was the basket case. Her bright blonde hair telling the world who her daddy was.

Of course, both of my boys are stay at home parents, while I tend to the ever-expanding coin-op business. I developed a deep trust and loyalty with my managers; and in turn, the franchises have grown and prospered.

In a nod to conventionality, after Alex was born, we decided that everyone would call me Mommy. Alex, and even Gio, see David as Daddy and Johnny as their much beloved older brother. The kids have grown up to know that, as the head of house, Mommy goes off to work; Daddy takes care of the house in his miniskirts; and Johnny mows the lawn, takes out the garbage, and does all the other boy chores. Alex and Gio are growing up with all the love and support that could ever be found in a more traditional environment. Mommy sleeps in the Master bedroom with the nice big bathroom; Daddy and Johnny have their room; and the kids each have a room to themselves.

When I walked through the door of our now much larger house, late this afternoon, the boys already had dinner waiting, as usual. The children were sitting at the table, and everyone was happy to see me. Daddy came over and kissed me on the lips. I kissed Johnny on the cheek; and the kids, each got one the top of the head. Gio is six now, and Alex five.

This evening as we sat in the TV room, my boys and I couldn't help but smile as we watched the children play on the floor in front of us. Alexandra is as aristocratic and self-assured as any Russian Czarina ever was; and little Gio is quite content to defer to her wishes and demands.

Signing off for now....Mistress Leslie