From Cucked Husband to Sub Wife Ch. 10

Chapter 10 A Change Has Come

The next morning, I set up my laptop for work and saw that we had recorded last evening's session. I watched some of it mostly on fast-forward. I had to stop because it was making me excited. The rest of day was spent in our old routines. I worked for a while; we had an appointment with the nutritionist and set up with another of Mr. Jenkins's friends as a personal trainer at a local gym.

The diet appointment went by without any funny business. She was focused and direct, and barely noticed how odd we may have looked. She saw us both naked, but didn't seem to notice the tattoos or piercings, or my cage and the buttplug sticking out of my ass. She weighed and measured us, used calipers to measure our fat. "Mrs. Cochran," she said to Lori. Consulting her notes. "Mr. Jenkins's suggests you need to lose twenty pounds. I am giving you diet that is low in carbs and fats. Mr. Cochran," she said this without the least sarcasm or irony, despite my dress. "Your process will be almost the exact opposite of your wife."

"He would like you to gain about the same amount of weight, but we want to focus that gain on derriere and chest, so you will both need to pair the diet with proper exercise. I understand you are going to see Larry later today, he's really good, follow what he says, and with these diets you will be able achieve Mr. Jenkins's goals for you in no time."

We finished, got dressed and headed over to the gym. I was worried given my experience with Mr. Jenkins's friends. But when Larry approached us, I thought we were safe. As he introduced himself my gaydar went off, which was confirmed when he pointed out his partner and co-owner of the gym, Alex. I figured as interested in a sissy girl like me, or cheap whore, like my wife. He was a very handsome black man, who clearly knew his business because he was built like Mack truck.

He was friendly, but also serious and knowledgeable about his work. He too had been briefed on Mr. Jenkins's goals for us. He showed us a circuit of exercises, both with equipment and without. Our focus areas were similar so we ended up doing very similar exercises. We set up a three-times a week schedule at the gym, but the other days we had to do the workout at home.

The eve of my surgery came up fairly quickly. I had been on the hormone therapy for a week and was feeling some side effects. My breasts were very tender and the nipple suction cups were hurting fairly constantly; so, Dr. Harris had removed them earlier in the week. He told me he would replace them after the surgery with less aggressive one I could wear to bed, instead of all the time.

Mr. Jenkins called as we were going to bed: "Okay, sissy, tomorrow is your big day. Unfortunately, I won't be there; so, the whore-slut is going to have to take you. Slut, I have set up a lip injection session at the clinic for you, while the sissy is having surgery. I will stop by to see you while you wait." I had a twinge of jealousy, but as usual I couldn't quite tell of whom I was jealous.

Outwardly, I was unequivocally enthusiastic to go forward with the plan, but inside I was having all kinds of crises of faith. I couldn't really express these doubts to either Lori or Mr. Jenkins. But it all felt so drastic and permanent, and was all happening so fast that I felt like I had not really considered it enough, but I couldn't really pause to think it over and still get what I wanted. And... I really wanted it! But enough to be castrated?!

Then I thought of how comfortable I felt as a sissy girl. Did that mean I always wanted this, but just needed someone to bring it out? Besides my submission to Mr. Jenkins, I also loved the sexual attention I was suddenly getting. Flashing a smile and watching guys go crazy gave me a thrill every time. I had never had anything even close to these feelings as a male.

The girls and women I had met in my life would look right past me, or made it quite clear right away they wanted to be friends exclusively, with no romantic potential. It had become clear to me, it had been what my wife would have wanted from our relationship, though I was not quite sure why she had married me. No girl had ever given me even half of the looks I was now getting from men, as a girl.

It had been just two weeks, and I hadn't even had the surgeries yet. Just a bit of makeup, a haircut, and some sexy outfits, and I was turning a lot of heads. It was giving me a confidence I had never really enjoyed as a man. The next day, Lori wore something less slutty and dressed me in one of the more subdued schoolgirl outfits. We looked maybe like sisters more than husband and wife.

Amelia, Dr. Harris's nurse, met us in the waiting room--we were the first ones there--and led us to the prep room. She had me disrobe and lay on a gurney; pulled out a shaver and was setting up to shave the area, when she saw I was already hairless. "Well, that makes my job much easier, Ms. Kunt."

She had me lay back and pulled out a plastic overlay sheet with slits on it, marking the places on my face that would be worked on. She placed it precisely, and marked the places with sharpie. She looked below where Dr. Harris had marked to see if it had faded. She refreshed his lines, put a cap on my head. And told us Dr. Harris would be right in.

He followed as soon as she walked out. "Ms. Kunt (pronounced "cunt"), how are we doing this morning?" Lori snickered every time she heard it and this made Dr. Harris break out in a giggle. "You must be the lovely wife." He reached out his hand as if to shake hands with her, but he planted it right on her right boob and gave it a firm squeeze. "They tell me she's ready to go. My dear, you can wait in the waiting room. They'll take right in for your lip treatment, this way," and he gave her ass a grope too.

"Honey, I'll be waiting for you, I love you!" Lori said and blew me an air kiss. They wheeled me out of the prep room and into the OR. There was a whirlwind of activity: strategically covering me, laying out equipment, Dr. Harris barking out orders, and nurses scurrying around me.

The anesthesiologist sidled up to me on a rolling stool and said, "hi there, I'm Dr. Pho, but they call me Dr. Fun; I think you'll like this part. This is going to put you out, so you won't feel a thing. Can you count backwards from a hundred for me, Ms. Kunt?"

"It's pronounced 'koont'; yes, one hun..."

When I came to and could figure out where I was and what was happening, I looked over and saw Lori on her knees, near my gurney/bed; her lips were huge. She turned to me, mumbling that everything turned out fine. But she had wads of cum on her face; her hair was disheveled, and Dr. Harris, standing about two feet away, was zipping up his pants.

Just then, Mr. Jenkins approached me chortling. "Your wife! What a fucking whore, huh?! She begged to suck Dr. Harris's cock, even though she just had her lips done this morning. What a fucking slut, and right in front of you too... and just after your big surgery too." I was still woozy and unfocused, and he was bombarding me with this kind of humiliation. It wasn't quite working; I wasn't present enough for the full effect to hit me.

I focused on trying to assess the feelings in my body, I could not quite feel what was happening down below. I moved my legs a bit and felt a pull. I could faintly feel that my clitty was locked, and I assumed I had been pierced and it was attached with the rings as described, but everything down there was just one numb mass. My face and neck were sore, just around the eyebrows, cheeks, and around my temples. My mouth felt tingly."

"Kiss, your sissy cuck husband, whore," he said. When she kissed me gently with her pillowy lips, I could taste Dr. Harris's cum. He walked over to me.

"Ms. Kunt," his breathing still a bit labored. Lori grinned. "Everything went swimmingly. I think you will be very happy with the results. We'll keep you here tonight and maybe tomorrow, depending. I'll check on you in the morning; but you'll likely be discharged by afternoon.

"I'll follow up with you in two weeks, and to see how you're healing. Avoid strenuous exercise, and hard kissing because of the lip injections...teehee. But should be okay in twenty-four hours, or so, keep the wounds clean, change the bandages daily. Have great day!" and he walked out.

"Slut, I've got to get back to work; stay with the sissy. My little sissy, you just have to heal before you get what you want. I am proud of you, sissy." So far, he had never really used that tone with me. It probably didn't make up for what he had just orchestrated with Dr. Harris, but I was too foggy about that and could only beam with joy back at him when he said this.

Lori, stayed to keep me company in my private room; I was fading in and out of sleep cause of the pain meds, so when it got to be evening, and I was briefly awake, I told her she should make her way home. I wasn't really angry; but was feeling degraded and humiliated by it. It seemed like a tasteless joke, but it was not just meant as amusement; it was part of the whole thing. Again, this was the emotional pain that he had to exact from me. It was a form of psychological submission. It wasn't enough to surrender him my wife and my body, and have it reshaped for his gratification; he had to be in control of my emotional state as well.

Soon they brought dinner, which was a cut above typical hospital food--this was a high-end private clinic. I turned on the tv, while I ate. Having spent most of the day asleep I was suddenly wakeful. I was surfing through the channels, when my cell went off.

It was text from Daddy. "Are you up, sissy?" With a video attachment. I turned off the tv and hit play on the video. It started in the hallway outside the door of the recovery room. Dr. Harris was instructing Amelia the prep nurse not to let anyone in the room the frame shifted from Harris to the nurse and then Lori, whose lips were cartoonishly inflated.

She had an eager look on her face. The more conservative look from that morning had turned considerably sluttier. He made sure to focus in on her tits which were nearly on full display with most of her buttons undone and a low-cut bra holding them up. Her makeup made her look like a real bimbo and the lipstick on her huge lips was outrageously red!

As soon as they were through the door, Mr. Jenkins roughly undid the remaining buttons and jerked down her bra so that her big beautiful tits were vulgarly exposed. Her turgid nipples held the rings in place. Her wounds, except for the deepest cuts made with the belt and cane, had all but healed, though some of the deep bruising remained.

Had I asked myself a month before what I thought about of him doing this to her breasts, I would have said that he would mar her once flawless breasts through the violence and defilement of his assaults on them; but seeing them like this, I found they only aroused me more. They had once looked delicate and pure and now they looked cheap, tawdry and obscene.

I was realizing that their former purity was a mask that hid her sexual perfidy. What he had done to them was like "truth in advertising"; her look now matched her wantonness. She had always been and wanted to be treated like a wanton whore, and now he was helping her to express this outwardly. The thought excited me beyond measure; I couldn't really tell what could be going on down there, but somewhere at my core I was aroused by this new "betrayal" and how he had used her to humiliate me. I reached down and felt myself up; all I could feel was bandaging; but my sexual arousal was undeniable.

He pushed her onto her knees, right where I had seen her, next to my recovery gurney. The camera panned over to where I was passed out with bandages covering much of my face. I felt around my own face as I watched and could feel the bandages I was seeing on the video.

"Slut," he said to her, "do you want to suck my cock?"

"Oh, yeth pweeease, Thir, may I?" He slapped her across the face hard, she instinctively turned her other cheek for his second slap, which equally hard.

"Sorry, slut, you can't have my cock until I have punished you for your lack of control. But my friend Dr. Harris, here, is willing to fuck your whore mouth. Would you like that, whore?"

"Oh, yeth pweathe, pweathe fuck my face, Thir." Her swollen lips gave her a kind of lisp, so that she sounded like she had foreign accent.

"Look at your husband; he's just had radical major surgery. He is laying right next to you! Don't you care that you are going to be sucking another man's cock while he lays there in pain right next to you? He's about to wake up...don't you want to hold his hand as he wakes up?"

"No, Thir! I'd rather suck hith cock!" Nodding her head toward Dr. Harris's crotch. "Oh, pwease, pwease may I suck hith cock, Thir. It won't matter to that fucking faggot, anyway."

"Don't you care if he wakes up and sees you're doing? You want to suck cock so bad, but you would never suck your cucky husband's."

"No, that's no cock, it's a clit now. But I love sucking real cock! Pweeeathe... Thir!"

"You really are a stupid filthy fucking whore, aren't you? You know you had lip injections just a few hours ago? Dr. Harris, how soon do you recommend a patient wait to give a blow job after getting lip injections?"

"Oh, it depends on the patient and the size of injection, but I would to say... a full day, at least."

"Would you recommend someone engage in oral sex after just six hours?"

"No, not generally. A few complications may arise..."

"Are any of those life threatening?"

"Oh, no, not at all, but could be unpleasant, and may lead to unintended results."

"You still want to suck his cock, whore?"

"Yeth, pwease, Thir. I don't care about the risks. I am desperate to have a cock inside me, and pwease you."

"Alright, Slut. Beg Dr. Harris to fuck your face."

"Please, Dr. Harris, Sir. Fuck my face!"

His cock was already hard as he approached her face, and Mr. Jenkins zoomed in on it as it was about to enter past her blown up lips. I was thinking about how unethical it was for a doctor, who himself had just stated the risks, to be physically involved in this way, with a patient in his clinic. But, after my own experience with him, this was to be expected.

"Just open your mouth wide, whore, and let him fuck your throat, don't try to suck him, keep your plump bimbo lips out of the way." Mr. Jenkins was warning her.

She opened her mouth as wide as possible and he just jammed right into her craw. Her lips were only brushing lightly against his fat cock. He made few thrusts in and out with little hesitation, but then Mr. Jenkins stopped him. He pulled out; the camera zoomed in on his cock and her fat lips. Her mouth looked suddenly cavernous and his cock engorged.

"I don't know, Harry. How 'bout I let you fuck her ass instead."

"Oh, hell yeah, JJ. I'd really appreciate that."

"Bitch, present your asshole to Dr. Harris and beg him to fuck your WHORE hole. You gotta see this, Harry. It's so fucking outrageous. I saw a guy do it with a Sharpie in a porno. I couldn't wait to find a whore sleazy enough to let me do it for real.

"Spread your whore ass, bitch; show Dr. Harris what a debased fuckin' trollop you really are." She did and he zoomed in on it. Then, he pointed the camera further down and gave her chastity device a jingle.

"Ha Ha Ha--Holy fuck! Goddamn, JJ! That's one fuckin' nasty whore. Let me fuck that fucking nasty-ass harlot!"

"Isn't it fucking hilarious, Harry, ho ho ho? Whore, beg Dr. Harris to fuck your ass."

"Ooh, pwease, pwease Dr. Harrith fuck my aaath. Fuck me hard, Thir. I am dethprate to feel your cock in me!"

He did as she demanded; he slammed into her like a man possessed. He was fucking her hole hard and fast, and she was mewling and moaning and begging for more and harder immediately. At the pace they were going, it would not be long for either of them. Soon, she was begging Mr. Jenkins to come. He allowed it, but just as she started to, Dr. Harris pulled out; he was coming; using her neck to make her turn around, he came on her mouth and face. She opened her mouth wide and some did get in there, but most of it landed all around her face.

It was so typical of Mr. Jenkins to be so cruel at just such a moment, when I had done this incredibly difficult thing to show my submission. I didn't really blame her; she had had no contact with him and no sexual activity other than the virtual sessions we had with him in the last week. She was therefore desperate for his attention in whatever form it would take.

I was achy all over, and I was even more hurt by what Daddy had done; and to send me the video was even more hurtful. I realized once again that he was thinking way ahead of me. The tableau I had awakened to, seemed a failure at the time because I was still groggy, but it was now reinforced. That was just the seed, so that now I could comprehend its full impact.

But it was done to show me my place, to remind me that he was making my wife into what she already wanted to be: a wanton slut, and regardless of what I had gone through in at his behest, it wouldn't affect my position. "Thank you, Daddy, for showing me that." I said to myself. But I cried myself to sleep, worried I might have done the wrong thing.

I was awakened about three hours later by my phone; it was two in the morning. Another text from him: "Hey, Sissy, just trying to keep your spirits up while you are all alone in a hospital room." It had another video attachment. I hovered before opening it, wondering what fresh hell I'd find there, then clicked on it.

It opened in front of my apartment door. His handsome face was saying, with an ear-to-ear grin, "hi, sissy! We're here in front of your apartment, we decided to have a little party to celebrate your big step. Say, hello, fellas."

"Hey, sissy!" I heard a small chorus shout out. Then, the camera scanned the hallway. Standing there was Dr. Harris, Bob, and personal trainer Larry and Alex, his partner who was a smaller version and a tall thin wan looking man with faraway eyes. They waved and whooped as he scanned their faces.

"Ooh, just wait until you see your slut wife, sissy." He rang the bell and the door opened and behind it was Lori, wearing the sluttiest outfit I had seen her in yet; I was sure he had picked it out. She had on what was essentially a black lacey babydoll, but it was mostly open in the front where her enormous boobs were straining the material and prominently on exhibit.

The rest of it came down her torso, showing more than it covered, and the fishnet leggings to her ankles were crotchless. When he asked her to twirl around so as to show the camera, there was what looked to be a racoon's tail protruding from her behind. There was obviously a dildo in her ass attached to this. A hand reached out and fondled it, as she turned.

Her shoes were the coup de grâce; they were ridiculously high pointy heels and the front were big bulky; her feet were pitched at an impossible angle; she looked like she could flop over any second. It made her gorgeous legs look supernaturally sexy. The front of the shoes were laced up like Victorian shoes and each had a ring on the side, obviously for clipping to something.

Her big hair was up in bimbo style. And her makeup was done up in similar fashion, but over her bruised lips she had on lip-shaped gel pack, attached to her cheeks with duct tape, to protect them from what might happen. It made it her look like she had even bigger plumped lips than she actually had, and made it hard to understand anything she said.

Dr. Harris bent her over, tail pointed out toward the hall, and started playing with the tail pulling and pushing the plug in and out of her ass. He then opened up her ass cheeks and said, "check this out guys... Isn't she a trashy fucking whore?" They all agreed and whooped it up.