Little Billy

I walked to the bathroom, my tiny penis jiggling with each step. I was now intensely aware of my inadequacies. For the 1st time, I wish it swayed back and forth like I'd seen other males with larger cocks do. I stopped in front of the toilet to pee.

"No, no," Brenda said again. "You can no longer stand to pee. Like all little boys, you aren't very good at peeing in the toilet. Too much goes ON the toilet and floor. From now on, you sit."

I lowered the seat, turned around and sat. I had never sat on a toilet in front of anyone in my life, let alone my wife. I let my urine flow. Silently, it streamed into the bowl. When I was done, I reached in and shook myself and stood.

"Also, there will be no more "private" moments in the bathroom. I know you masturbate sometimes while taking a dump. Little boys need to be controlled. Don't ever close the bathroom door again unless I tell you to."

"And one other thing; you must ask permission to use the bathroom. You will learn to be a polite little boy."

I blushed, my face hot with humiliation. I thought I was so smooth in getting away with knocking off a quick cum by myself. I did not protest. She was feeling her oats and awakening to her confident, dominant self.

I stood up and went to the shower to turn it on. She walked in and past me. We had showered many times together in that shower. But this morning, I was not invited. She closed the shower door behind her and turned her back.

"Go make me some oatmeal and toast. I'll be out in a few minutes."

She later came out with her hair in a towel and dressed in a robe. It felt so odd to be naked in her presence when she was covered.

Between bites Brenda said, "I'm going to do a little shopping for you this morning." You are to stay here and wash the sheets on my bed (she always referred to it as OUR bed until now). You should have enough time to wash and dry and remake it before I get back. Go get started.

I returned to her bedroom. Until last night, it was our bedroom, our marital bedroom where we made marital love. Now it was hers, to have sex with whomever she decided. I sighed.

I pulled the sheets off and carried them to the washer. The laundry room was adjacent to the kitchen and I had to walk through the kitchen to get to it. As I walked past Brenda, she quietly giggled. I blushed again. That simple little laugh was more humiliating than you could know. I was washing the wet spot out of my wife's sheets. The spot left from the semen of another man.

The wash started, I turned to walk back through the kitchen. Brenda was walking out and without turning said, "you can do the dishes now."

I cleared the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher, then wiped off the table and counters. As I bent to put the soap into the cup in the door, Brenda returned to the kitchen. She was dressed in a mini-skirt, tank top (that screamed, "I'M NOT WEARING A BRA!") and sandals. I speculated she had left panties with her bra as well.

"There are a few things I need to get." I will be back after lunch. While I'm gone, you are to vacuum and dust. Remember, no touching your pee pee, no standing to pee, no clothes. If someone comes to the door, you have to answer it as you are or don't answer it at all. Bye."

Brenda headed for the garage. While I was not a stranger to these chores, we had always done house cleaning together. I went to get the sweeper and began my assignments. Being naked and alone, it was not easy to keep my hands off my penis. I got hard and horny every time the previous night came to mind. I couldn't decide what was exciting me; our new arrangement, another man servicing my wife, or having a cock and another man's semen in my mouth.

It was mid-afternoon when Brenda returned. I had all the carpets swept and dusted all the rooms. I expected a full inspection, but she ignored all I had done.

"There are some bags in the car. Go get them and bring them in the living room," she said on her way past. I opened the door to the garage and began to step out. I stopped quickly when I saw she had not put the garage door down. I punched the button next to the door so neighbors didn't see me naked.

I carried the bags to the living room. She was sitting on the couch. I put the bags at her feet. My 1st thought was that I was going to get a show of leather dom clothes, bustiers and thigh-high boots. That was not the case.

She opened the 1st bag and pulled out two packages of white brief underwear. Since being on my own, I had always been a "boxer man." She laid them out on the couch.

"Put a pair of these on."

I reached for the top pair and slid them up my legs. While the correct size, it felt very unusual to have my genitals constricted inside them.

Brenda then opened another bag and pulled out several t-shirts and shorts. They were all in primary colors. Each t-shirt was striped horizontally. All the shorts were elastic waisted. She also pulled out some white crew socks and a pair of black and white Converse Chuck Taylor high-tops. She handed me a T and a pair of shorts.

"Put these on."

I put on the new clothes. She then directed me to put a pair of the socks and the shoes. I stood there looking like an over-sized Beaver Cleaver from the early 60's TV show.

"Since your body has the equipment of a boy, I decided you should dress like one. When I allow you to dress, you will wear these. It will remind you of your physical shortcomings and tell the world how "boyish" you are."

"How am I supposed to go to work in these?" I asked.

"Not to worry. I sent a letter of resignation on your behalf. You'll need to find a job that will allow you to work from home. And anyway, I make enough to keep us well. Your salary was nice, but too small to live on. Your lack of manhood again, I guess?"

I diverted my eyes and turned red again. She could say just the right things that humiliated me ultimately. I was near tears... and hard again. It was so confusing.

"So since you're not going to be driving to work or anywhere else for that matter - I'll do all the driving from now on - and not going anywhere without me, you won't need a wallet nor keys. Give them to me."

I handed over these symbols of male adulthood I had carried so long. I stood there in my boy shorts and shirt without ID or access to what had been my house and car. I was now totally reliant on my wife for my shelter and support. Funny - my pee pee was still rock hard.

"I think that about does it," Brenda said. "The only other thing is that you will now address me as Mommy. I only see you as a little boy, kind of a son. It fits."

"Yes, Mommy," I stammered.

"OK, Billy. We're going out to dinner. If you need to pee pee, go now. You will not be allowed to use a public restroom. I can't go in with you dressed like this and you're too horny to allow you to be alone in a stall."

"Yes, I need to go."

"Come on. I will go and watch you."

I walked into the bathroom and began to reach for my zipper. Of course, the elastic-waisted boy shorts had no zipper. I slowly turned around, pulled them and the briefs down and sat.

"Good," Brenda said as she grinned widely. "You'll get used to it. I imagine you'll come to like it."

As the urine slowed, I started to reach between my legs to shake off the last couple of drops - the same thing I'd done since I stopped wearing diapers. But now I didn't know if I would be permitted to touch myself to do this. I looked up at Brenda, who was standing in front of me as I sat on the potty.

"May I shake off?"

"Only if you can do it without touching," Brenda smirked. "If you need to get rid of the last bit of pee, wipe with a square of paper."

I took some paper and touched the edge to the end of my embarrassing pee pee to soak up the last few drops. I let go, stood up and pulled up my underwear and boy shorts.

Brenda was in the driver's seat waiting for me as I walked into the garage.

"Get in the back. Little boys always sit in the back seat."

I pushed the seatback forward and got into the back with what had to look like the world-class pout on my face. Brenda looked at me in the rearview mirror and smiled.

"I know none of this is your doing," she said softly, "but it's the only way I can stay with you. I just can't treat you like a man when you're dressed and look at that tiny penis and still think of you like that. This is for the best - you'll see."

I pulled my "little league" ball cap as low as I could on my face in hopes no one would recognize me in my "new look." Maybe I was dressed right; I now felt like crying.

Brenda pulled into the restaurant, a chain Italian place. She got out, turned around and pulled the seatback forward. "C'mon Billy. While we're in here, you listen to Mommy. I don't want to have to punish you in public."

I almost froze when I heard that. I figured there was no way I could get through the meal without some reason to humiliate me through punishing me. But I got out and followed along, just like a little kid.

When we entered, I saw a man's hand wave. It was Matt. The set-up was confirmed. Brenda took me by the arm and began to lead me back to the table where he sat. He was waiting in a half-circle booth. He stood as she arrived. Brenda put me at one end of the booth, then before she sat down, she put her arms around Matt's neck and kissed him deeply. Everyone in the place could have seen her passionate embrace. She then got into the booth beside Matt.

The server came. She was attractive, but not beautiful. I glanced at her briefly. I was about to state my drink order when I was interrupted by Brenda.

"Billy will have milk and he'll need a kid's menu. The gentleman & I will have beer."

I sat with my eyes downcast as the server walked away. Brenda & Matt were making lovey small talk. Both had one hand in each others' crotch. She was stroking his erection through the soft material of his slacks (obviously without underwear). He had his hand between her legs with her skirt pushed up to allow him to finger her labia and clit. I knew he had found his target by the redness in Brenda's face.

When the server returned, their mutual masturbation stopped while they ordered. Matt ordered a T-bone steak medium rare. Brenda ordered a fancy pasta dish. She told the server to bring my the child's spaghetti plate, no meatballs. Matt smiled broadly when Brenda emphasized "NO meatBALLS" in the order. I didn't look into the server's face. But I heard her giggle as she wrote the order.

With a small penis, it is not too difficult to conceal an erection when wearing adult pants or jeans. But with the tight jockey underpants and the thin boy-style shorts, even I was showing a hard-on. Brenda noticed it.

"You have no permission to have an erection, Billy! I told you about this just today. You must be punished. Stand up!"

As she rose into the aisle, I was momentarily stunned. It wasn't my fault I was hard. I was watching her have sex with a man in public! I started to stand to argue when Matt stood up right beside Brenda. I knew he would back her up if I resisted whatever she had in mind.

"Turn around and bend over. Grab your ankles, NOW!"

I felt the tears begin to well once again as I did as I was ordered. As I grasped my ankles with white socks on them, I felt Brenda pull down my shorts. She knew she could not bare me in a public restroom, so I kept my underwear up.

"You will follow the rules or you will pay the price," she snapped loudly and then began to spank me with her open hand. Matt couldn't contain his amusement at my treatment.

After about a dozen swats, she yanked my shorts back up, giving my a wedgie.

"Sit down and behave. Get out of line again and we'll go outside for something you'll never forget."

I had tears on my hot, red cheeks. I was humiliated beyond any level I had ever experienced. But I had to trap my pee pee between my thighs as it was harder than ever. In addition, I had cum while Brenda spanked me before a restaurant full of people. I had to try to keep the thin trickle of semen from reaching my boy shorts.

We finished our meal without any other incidents. I kept quiet as Brenda & Matt made small talk. When it was time to go, my wife picked up the check and stepped into the aisle.

"Follow me to the cash register, Billy," she told me. "I will pay the check."

Since I no longer carried a wallet, I had nothing with which to pay anything. I kept my eyes down and trailed after my wife while she walked with the man she looked to for sexual satisfaction.

At the cash register, they kissed and Matt left. Brenda turned and took care of the check while I stood in the restaurant, feeling like I could cry right there. What had happened to my life?

We drove home with me riding in back again. At some point, I looked up to see my wife looking at me in the mirror.

"You think this all happened since yesterday, like Matt was the cause of this. You're wrong, little boy. You've never been satisfactory in bed. Your peepee is too small, you cum so fast and you've never been willing to do the things that could make up for that, even when I encouraged you to do them. I just reached my limit & this is the result. I don't love Matt and he won't be permanent. I intend to sample many different men and sexual experiences to make up for all the years I faked orgasms to protect your ego and lay in bed frustrated wishing for a lover who could satisfy me."

That was when I finally broke and began to cry. I never noticed that she wasn't happy. I was too arrogant, thinking I was a great lover - her fake orgasms proved it to me. Now here I was: being subjugated because my genitals were small, made a cuckold by my wife so she could find satisfying sex whenever she wanted it.

"It's OK to cry," Brenda said, "Little boys can cry whenever they feel like it. Makes them feel better when they're hurt or sad. But it also confirms you are a little boy inside a mostly adult body. Now that I realize this, we can make sure you get what you need, too"

I had no idea what she meant by that.