Book three of the series takes Joseph firmly into the world of submissive femininity. Melissa pushes him into humiliation, dates and finally to a special school for new girls.
Is this the end for Joseph and the beginning for Joanne?
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Here’s an excerpt to read
Becoming Joanne 3, copyright Lady Alexa 2017
No escape from his femininity
“You’re going to remain as a girl. I can’t trust you as a man.”
Her words resonated around in my head. They were hitting against the inside of my skull like a fly buzzing against a closed window. A fly trying to break out and escape but failing; like me. This wasn’t what she had led me to believe when she had started to feminise me. When Melissa had forcibly feminised me. There had supposed to be an end, once I’d seen the errors of my old macho ways. That time should have been now. She had gone back on her promise. Well, she hadn’t actually promised to release me. But she had given me the impression she would release me from this feminisation hell, and heaven.
Outside the summer heat and blue skies of August had evaporated into an angry grey September. The outside gloom of the day invaded the room through the large front window. I could no longer play along, waiting for her to finish her game of humiliation. I was Joseph, not Joanne as I was not called. If I didn’t do anything she would keep me as a girl. I wanted to run out of her house at that moment. I wanted to flee. But that was impossible. I couldn’t run out the door in a north London suburb dressed provocatively, in high heels and looking like a girl.
I had completed the six weeks of ‘retraining’ as Melissa had called it, trapped in her home. It was less about retraining, in my opinion, and more about punishment for my previous behaviour. I had learnt I’d been a terrible husband to my wife. Couldn’t they see I’d learnt that?
Melissa had increased my feminisation week on week, assisted by her able lieutenant Imogen, Madam Imogen. I was convinced it would all end after six weeks. That time was now up but their feminisation of me was not about to finish after all. Melissa didn’t believe I’d changed. To be honest, there was some truth in that but I thought I had hidden it well. I’d gone along with her demands, humiliations and yes, feminisation. A lump came to my throat. I pushed the urge to cry away. It was what they would have wanted. Crying like a girl. But I was a man. Wasn’t I?
I tried to speak as I stood there in the front room of Melissa’s home, my virtual prison. I swayed on my six-inch high heels. My white chiffon dress barely covered my cock and my bum. Melissa, Imogen and my wife Julie sat together on a wide black leather sofa,. Their legs were crossed in identical fashion. Melissa stopped my attempt at complaint by holding out a well-manicured hand. Flame-red nails imitated a stop traffic light barring my route towards manhood.
“Yes. You’re going to remain as a girl”. She repeated, warming to the idea and spoke the words as if she were chewing on a soft sweet. Her phrase swirled round in my mind like one of those catchy tunes you hate but can’t stop humming. She then twisted the dagger to ensure I understood exactly what that meant.
“You will continue to stay here and to dress in pretty dresses and skirts. We have some extra training for you.”
My mouth dropped open as hers had broadened into a wide grin. More training? What more more could there be? I already wore short dresses and skirts and wore a bra with breast inserts in. I had false pink nails and long feminine hair. What more could they do?
Distressingly her words caused my then uncaged cock to harden instantly. It pushed out the front of my flimsy short dress as if it were a tongue inside a cheek. Melissa glanced at it without interest, my wife Julie nodded as she watched events. What had got into Julie, she used to be so placid? Imogen sneered and pointed out that my erection was evidence I actually enjoyed being a girl. There was some truth to her comment but I wasn’t about to admit that.
Melissa explained that she knew I had expected her to allow me to go back to Julie after my six-week retraining programme. I had always assumed that this meant that my time as a feminised girl would end. She had paused before taking a long breath and I watched with desire as her large breasts strained inside her dress. This unfortunately proved her point that I hadn’t yet reformed. It was all an act so I could return to my previous life of womanising, drinking and living off my wife’s income. I had changed, I knew I’d hurt Julie and I felt bad. I’d be more understanding now. And more careful about her finding out about my future peccadilloes.
Melissa said, “I’m not convinced you’ve learnt your lesson about your terrible male behaviour or that you ever will. I have no option but to keep you here until you have really changed. I want to see a complete transformation.”
What did that mean? Transformation?
Melissa informed me, accompanied by the stern nodding agreement of my wife, that she was gong to take me even further and deeper into femininity. “Deeper?” I had screamed. “How much further was there to go?” I stamped my foot on the floor as best I could in six-inch heels.
They let me have my tantrum. For a short moment I was back as Joseph. This type of display would normally have earned me an immediate spanking by Imogen. I told them I had a 22-inch waist, long thick female hair and a wardrobe full of short skirts and dresses. I had no hair below my eyelashes except for the pubic triangle. My body hair appeared to have stopped growing; permanently. How could I go any deeper in feminisation I whined? I stamped a fine pencil-like heel on the natural wood floor again.
Melissa raised one pencil-thin eyebrow. An eyebrow styled like my own. She’d had enough. She had let one tantrum pass but a second was always going to attract punishment. She told me to remove my dress and to bend over. I removed it in a sulk, like a recalcitrant child. I stood naked before the three ladies dressed only in my high heels and bra. The three wise women watching me, like judges determining my fate. Imogen got up and walked over pushing my head down. She spanked me hard and urgently with an open palm. Melissa then clipped on my cock cage. She forced my erection into the cage without care as I cried out. She sent me to my bedroom like a naughty schoolboy to cool down. Or should that be naughty schoolgirl?
* * *
I was still sitting on my bed half an hour after Melissa had delivered that verdict on my immediate future. I was naked except for my bra, stockings, pink silicone cock cage and high heels. Melissa hadn’t permitted me to put my dress on again. A punishment to show me who was boss. It also drove me to want to put a dress on. I rubbed my manicured hand around the back of my neck. I pulled my long pink lacquered nails through my luxuriant long hair. The open window brought in a sharp morning air, the promise of a chilly autumn. I shivered and wished I had a dress on. She was winning. I couldn’t settle, I got up and walked around my pink room. I said my bedroom. In reality it was the pink feminine bedroom that Melissa had allocated for me in her house.
Melissa’s six-week summer programme of retraining was nothing more than my reprogramming into a girl. She and Imogen had meticulously stripped away my masculinity and replaced it with submissive femininity. It was a programme enthusiastically overseen by Imogen, the ex-army trainer. Not only was my waist now 22 inches, my weight had reduced to 10 stone; or 140 pounds. Imogen had not only transformed my body but had trained me to walk and talk like a girl. Melissa had selected her specifically for that role and she had performed it to perfection. She had done very well I could see the results every time I looked in the mirror.
The hair below my eyes hadn’t grown again since Mandy, Melissa’s beautician, had given me an all-over electrolysis treatment. She had left a simile of a female triangle of pubic hair above my cock. She had given me false eyelashes and thin shaped eyebrows. My chin was soft and smooth, shaving like a normal man now a thing of the past. Mandy had extracted the roots of my facial whiskers, one by painful one. Mandy still came to the house once a week to touch up my long pink nails and to do my luxuriant hair.
Melissa was right of course. I had been faking my compliance to her programme. She had seen through me. That had always been my plan. I knew I had been a bad husband to Julie my wife but I was dependant on her for everything including the home we lived in. It was difficult but I had had to go along with Melissa’s plan to transform me. I couldn’t afford to lose everything.
What I hadn’t expected is that I had discovered what I call certain attractions to being a girl. I would never admit that of course. I would miss having my beautiful long hair, I liked the feel of it down my back and how it fell over my shoulders. I liked how it bounced and flowed when I walked. Mandy had made it thick and full and that was exciting. Maybe I could keep my hair long once I’ve escaped from Melissa? Maybe I’d have to gel it down for outside appearances. I’d probably keep the earrings too, I liked the way they jangled against my neck. The strangest of all was that I loved wearing my dresses and skirts. The freedom and the feeling of them around my legs. I enjoyed the way the air circulated around my crotch. My skirts and dresses were sensuous and sexy. My penis wrapped in silky or soft thin cotton knickers. Perhaps Julie wouldn’t mind if I wore dresses around the home once I had escaped from this sensuous nightmare. I would remove my penis ring though. That was one humiliation too far. Especially when Melissa put the cat’s bell in it. Horrible.
Yes I would miss what I had become; a girl. But it couldn’t last forever and I’d learnt some lessons, more or less. I wanted to return to manhood, or at least a new feminine version of manhood. OK a very feminine version of manhood. Things would never be the same again, there were things I didn’t want to lose now I’d found them. Or should I say now that Melissa had shown me another way.
* * *
My current job was the household assistant to Maja, Melissa’s eastern European housekeeper. Maja was unfriendly and didn’t enjoy being a housemaid. She was well educated but earned more here in England as a maid than as an accountant back in Hungary. She thrived on ordering me around. It was a way for her to alleviate her own problems. Whenever I showered or bathed she bathed my cock while wearing a plastic apron, rubber gloves and a grimace. Mistress Melissa didn’t permit me to touch my cock ever so Maja had the task to wash it. It was a task she performed with clear disdain.
I now needed a new plan, I couldn’t go through the motions of pretending to accept Melissa’s plan to feminise me and wait for it to finish. I was not to be released from this feminisation hell, and heaven. I needed an escape plan. It wouldn’t be easy as I now looked like a girl and I only had female clothing. But maybe that was the answer? I had to plan my escape very carefully and get Julie on my side. It would not be easy.
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