They say if you do something long enough and regularly, you get used to it. That's how addiction comes about. I've been my wife's housegirl for some weeks now, and everyday we tuck up and tape my cock and balls into nothingness between my legs, completing my transformation.

It's quite impressive really. It's become more natural to have nothing between my legs except a 'vulva' than to have a cock.

I've acquired an interesting collection of dresses, skirts, lingerie, shoes for all occasions...and the 'occasion' is mostly slutty in the evening. That's the way she likes me: tight pencil skirt, tight low cut blouse, showing off my cleavage, black mesh tights, and high heels...watching me do the dishes after dinner makes her hot she says, especially when I bend over to put something in the dishwasher and she can see the tops of my tights and my cheeks. She might come up behind me and cup my cunt, pulling my head up and back for a quick deep tongued kiss. That really gets her wet and me too, because I know what will be coming soon...her as she fucks me.

The pattern was the same tonight, except she seemed more aroused than usual, her voice pressed deeply from her throat by unusual passion. "Let's go to bed for a while", she cooed, pulling me with her, leaving dishes behind on the sink.

Even though we've taken to tucking all the time, so my balls never rest in their sack, and my cock always hides between my legs, we still had to 'open' me up by partially untucking, pushing my cock aside but leaving my balls out of the sack, so she could penetrate me. The rule was the sack is always empty.

Sometimes as a preliminary, I would remain fully tucked and she would slide her lubed girl 'cock' in between my legs, rubbing my vulva...extremely exciting. But I wasn't allowed to cum that way. Just a good reminder that I was the woman here.

Then she would fuck me properly in my cunt ass. Deeply, in and out in a rhythm that suited her, sometimes with a huge strap-on so long it pressed against my belly. She finally finished with a long sigh. I asked permission to cum.

"Not yet, not yet, Maybe later", she said after resealing me and restoring my feminine look completely. She stroked me lightly on the lips of my vulva, fingering between my legs as well and finally said...'You know, we've agreed that your balls should never be in the sack, and always tucked? Well, I was wondering" and she cupped my cunt as she kissed me deeply with her tongue, "I was wondering, if you aren't really using it any more, what if we had your balls sewn up there in place, then we could remove your scrotum altogether. You would be a woman, but we wouldn't have to worry about hormones because you'd still have your balls. And, well I fancy having a nice little silky purse. "What do you think"

I wasn't sure what to say. I could see her point, but wasn't sure I wanted to go that far yet. It did have a little appeal, in the sense that the feminising effect would be permanent. I'd still have balls but permanently hidden. And...and this seemed almost funny...I wasn't sure I liked the idea of her flashing my sack in public every time she reached for some change!

She laughed, too, when I said this to her.

"Silly, girl", she said. I wouldn't do that. Having a purse made from your silky bag would just be a symbol that you are my girl, that's all. I promise to keep only feminine things in it, like earrings and rings, and maybe a tampon or two. And I'd keep it with me all the time. I could stroke it and think of you when I'm working."

That idea was definitely odd...and arousing too. That she could stroke my sack when I wasn't even present. A thought struck me. If we do what she wants, I won't have the vulva. Not enough left to shape one.

"Don't worry, she said. A little plastic surgery, just minor, will sort that. I've been talking to my friend, Anne, she could do it for you."

And so, or should I say, 'sew', a couple weeks and some stitches later, she had her prize and I was one step further toward a complete transition. The new vulva was very pretty and quite sensitive to touch.

Careful work by another friend of Anne's turned my sack into a work of art, a soft, tanned, draw string pouch with delicate gold threading around the edges. In the evening, I know it's time for submission when my wife takes her earrings off and drops them, one by one, into her purse, then roughly pulls the drawstring ....tight.