Wallace Nunn had it made. He married the girl of his dreams two months previously in a happy wedding in the country, and Roxanne adored him. Even her mother Ethel, blessed with the same glossy black hair and good looks as her daughter and who had been determined Roxanne would only marry a sound, perfect husband with excellent prospects, was satisfied that this was the man for her girl. The happy couple set up home in a country cottage within reach of the motorway so they could both commute easily into the city, and a life of married bliss lay ahead.
Until the day Wallace allowed his passions to run away with his common sense - and flirted foolishly with his boss's new secretary. As soon as he knew she fancied him he was happy to work late when everyone had left, except for Suzy-Lou. One thing led to another, and in no time the two of them were rolling naked on the carpet in the boss's office. It was when Wallace was fast approaching a blissful climax and Suzy-Lou's cries were reaching falsetto heights that Roxanne and Ethel walked in and saw the naked, rhythmic wrestling on the deep pile rug. His fiercely stiffened cock leapt out with fright, spraying ejaculate up Suzy-Lou's belly and breasts as she tried to clamber to her feet. Roxanne slumped to a sit on the floor and Ethel strode across the space and pasted her son-in-law with a shower of blows until the handle sheared off and her handbag hit the far wall.
"You dirty little rat! Get up, you shitster, and get your clothes on. And you, you little tramp, get the hell out before I tear your eyes out!"
Wallace Nunn had no defence, no excuses, nothing to say or do except dress himself as fast as he could as his wife wept in the arms of her mother. It was the end of his loving marriage and the start of his new life.
"What do you expect, may I ask, after deceiving the wife who loved you and trusted you implicitly? After repaying her adoration with the worst act of treachery you could possibly have dreamt up?"
They were back home, in the quaint sitting room of the cottage, with Wallace Nunn facing judge and jury in the persons of his wife and her mother. His heart was somewhere down in his shoes, his wits had gone brain-dead and he was discovering the throbbing pain of knowing he had nothing he could say that would in any way mitigate the blackened guilt of his infidelity and deceit.
"If you think you're going back to that place another single day, you can forget it," said Roxanne, her face grimaced with revenge. "You've got a hell of a lot of making up to do. You can be damn sure we'll find ways for that."
"Too right, you knob head," cried Ethel with an edge of pure hatred in her voice. "We'll find a hundred and one ways you can suffer for what you've inflicted on my darling girl. And I'm keeping you here, where I can see you."
The only saving grace Wallace could gather from the half hour lecture that followed was that there was no talk of divorce. It looked like he had escaped the worst thing that could have happened to him.
Or so he thought. He found himself relegated to the spare bedroom - temporarily, he managed to tell himself. But a week later, after days of cold silence and snapping voices, he found himself shipped out to Ethel's house in town.
"You can't dress me in those," he whined, shocked at the skimpiness of the little lace chemise and delicate pink and white panties that hung from the hangers Ethel withdrew from the pink Barbie closet.
"Don't you dare tell me what I can and can't do, boy," returned Ethel, as she sat on the only chair in the new, all-pink nursery-room, "especially since we've got guests coming. If I say you'll wear these today, you damned well WILL! Come here, and sit on my lap."
Oh the shame. A 23-year-old male having to sit on the knee of his Mother-In-Law for her to put him into a pair of satin panties with two inches of sweet lace trimming round each of the legs. The chemise didn't even reach the panty when she dropped it over his head and fastened the two cute baby buttons down to his shoulder blades. The embarrassment was bad enough, but even worse was this ache of forbidden pleasure he got from being dressed in baby things. Girly baby things!
"Sissies like you who are under punishment need to look sweet and helpless," cried Ethel, slipping a pink baby dress off its hanger and gathering it on her hands to drop it over his head. His anguish escaped him in a groan of misery as his arms pushed through the little puffed sleeves which caught him in little white cuffs right in his armpits, while a dainty Peter Pan collar surrounded him with girlish sweetness. "You're a dead loss as far as Roxanne or myself are concerned, but at least you'll be a credit to us the way you're dressed."
As he was frog-marched from behind into the sitting room, the faces of four of Ethel's women friends turned wuthering looks of accusation and contempt on him. By now he had a large pink ribbon in his hair and lacy white anklets on his feet with pink Mary Jane shoes that dangled in front of him when he was ensconced in his high chair in the middle, the feeding tray secured across him to fasten him in.
"This is what he gets for such appalling infidelity," began Ethel.
"It's too good for him," declared a guest,
"He should be bent double across the settee and caned. Three times every day," added another.
"Make him suffer!"
It was while he was lectured and castigated by all five women that a new arrival came to the door. "This is Nurse Termigant," announced Ethel, introducing the gaunt figure to the company but to her sissy infant son-in-law in particular. "She'll be bathing you and dressing you every day: you're going to get to know her well."
"Dressing and diapering unfaithful husbands is my idea of a happy life," declared the woman with a sneer of disdain at the drooping petticoated sissy in the high chair. "If Madame agrees, I'll wash the clown's sex this minute and plant him in his new baby buggy. I believe in fresh air for sissy babies. A trip round the neighbourhood will do him a power of good."
It was only twenty minutes and a good powdering with talc and baby oil before Wallace Nunn found himself being wheeled down the path and out through the gate, with a wide brimmed baby bonnet surrounding his crimson face and a large pink pacifier bobbing with obedient sucks from his crammed mouth. The risk of anyone seeing him like this brought prickles to his scalp - and then it happened. Around the brim of his bonnet appeared two women who showed an alarming interest in him, staring at his bare arms and legs, his sweet baby blue dress and big bonnet, and at the shockingly stiff, panty-covered erection on this very sissy baby.
"What an utterly ridiculous panty-waist," cried one.
"Well I never," cried the other: "by the look of the white emissions from that stiff panty-gusset, I'd say this person likes being a baby girl very much."
It was their grins and looks of contempt as much as what they said that added to Wallace's confusion. He tried his very hardest to stem his urge to be utterly babyish and completely girly, but he couldn't resist his urge. His sissified pleasure forced itself upward in his rosy genital and out through the rounded top of his pretty pink panties in front of them. It was the first of what became a daily event, which the women of the neighbourhood came to expect, and which they gathered for at the gate of the park between two and three in the afternoon each day.
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