“Aunt Edna”

by c.w. cobblestone

BOOK ONE

After what happened last year, I’m dreading the upcoming holidays, but for my family’s sake I’ll put on a smile and shoulder through it. Nobody wants to hear me whine, so my best bet is to just play along and keep pretending that I’m happy with my lowly position in our household. If I want to cling to what little I have left, my only hope is to stay in my place and avoid making waves.

I still can’t believe how quickly everything unraveled. A week before Christmas, my three teenaged daughters came home early from school to find me wearing their mom’s pantyhose. On Christmas Day it got even worse when the kids and I learned that I wasn’t their biological father.

As a holiday bonus, I also found out that day about my wife’s longtime, ongoing affair with her boss — the girls’ real dad.

I was still reeling from Miriam’s devastating yuletide confession when she delivered yet another jingle bell gut-punch by inviting her lover over to meet his daughters the next day. Things went haywire from there, and by the New Year our household had undergone a radical metamorphosis, with a new dad — the real dad — heading the family, and a new maid — me — serving them.

It’s a humiliating situation for sure, but I’m trying to make the best of it because I don’t want to give up my family. I just can’t. I love the girls dearly; I don’t care if they aren’t technically mine — and damn it, I love Miriam, too, even though she betrayed me in the worst possible way. If I want to keep them in my life, this is how it has to be: Phil Mansfield is in charge and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Like I said, I’m trying to make the best of things, and I’m determined to get through the upcoming holidays in one piece. But you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not exactly giddy with Christmasy cheer, despite my fake smile.

<><><><><><> 

 

The first shoe dropped on Thursday, December 18th, a date which shall live in infamy. I usually had the house to myself on Tuesdays and Thursdays from the time I got home from work until about 7pm, when Miriam returned from aerobics (or, so I thought), and the girls got back from their extracurricular school activities. Kaitlyn, my sixteen-year-old daughter (or, so I thought) had basketball practice, while the fourteen-year-old twins, Hailey and Jenna, were both on the JV cheerleading squad, which also drilled on Tuesdays and Thursdays after classes.

Kaitlyn had just gotten her license, and could finally drive herself and her sisters to and from school in the Jeep I’d bought her for her sixteenth birthday. That gave me a little extra time to myself, since it had previously been my responsibility to haul the kids around. With a houseful of females, I rarely got the opportunity to indulge my clandestine crossdressing fetish, so I was glad when Kaitlyn got her license because it offered more chances to dress up.

Throughout my seventeen-year marriage, I’d been on the brink of telling Miriam about my submissive, sissy cravings countless times, but I could never bring myself to do it. I was afraid she’d freak out and dump me, a fate I didn’t want to contemplate. I’d married way above my head — literally and figuratively, since I was five-foot-five and Miriam was three inches taller than me, in addition to being far more attractive — and I was perpetually consumed by the fear that she might leave me.

My late father had warned me before the wedding that Miriam was only marrying me because I raked in good money as a dentist, but I hated my dad and blew him off. As the years passed, I realized the mean, old bastard was right. It didn’t matter; even if my wife didn’t exactly shower me with affection, I loved and needed her.

Miriam grew more distant with each turn of the calendar. After the twins were born, she told me menopause had hit early, and that intercourse was becoming painful. So, our sex life, which had only consisted of once-a-month romps in the first place, came to a screeching halt.

I was convinced Miriam was only sticking around because of the comfortable lifestyle I afforded her — so I busted my ass to make as much money as possible so she could enjoy a life of leisure and have no reason to leave me. She worked part-time reviewing manuscripts at Polecat Publishing, her dream job which she’d held before I met her; three days a week she would put in a few hours reading book submissions and dealing with prospective authors before going to the gym, shopping or whatever else fancied her.

Looking back, there were plenty of signs that Miriam was running around on me — all the late nights, excuses that made no sense, the hint of cologne on her clothes, the crusty panties. But like so many other well-to-do beta cuckolds who are desperate to hold onto their sexy, outgoing wives, I buried my head in the sand. She’d told me she couldn’t have sex because she’d hit menopause after the twins were born, and I told myself that she was telling the truth.

So, while my wife was fucking another man behind my back all those years and tricking me into raising his kids, I was kissing her ass, desperate to keep her from leaving me. I learned to live without sex and tried to be the perfect husband outside the bedroom, and a loving, doting father to children who unbeknownst to me weren’t mine.

We settled into a pleasant-enough family routine, with Miriam as the unquestioned head of our household and me the pussywhipped husband who never got any pussy. She was the Queen Bee who hardly lifted a finger, and while I hadn’t yet acquired the formal title, I was every bit her faithful servant.

When I’d get home from a hard day of standing around the dentist’s chair, I’d do all the housework and the cooking, although Miriam enjoyed making a dish herself once in a while, leaving the cleanup for me. When the girls were babies, I changed most of the diapers. If one of the kids spilled something, I’d be the one to jump up and get a rag while Miriam sat there and watched me. I can’t tell you how many times we’d be out in public and another woman — and sometimes a man — would remark to my wife, “Wow, you’ve really got him trained,” as I was scurrying away after she’d ordered me to do something in a tone of voice that let everyone within earshot know exactly who wore the pants in our family.

As the girls got older, if they wanted permission to do something, they’d always ask their mom, since they knew it wasn’t up to me. Whereas they’d never have dreamed of talking back to Miriam, they did it to me all the time, although I did hold secondary authority over them, and knew I could always get them to listen to me if I warned, “don’t make me have to tell your mother.”

The girls weren’t nasty or cruel to me, but like Miriam, they certainly bossed me around and took me for granted. Kaitlyn, the oldest, was a gentler soul and didn’t treat me quite as rudely as her siblings did, although Kait could be every bit as impatient as her brattier sisters when she didn’t get her way. All the girls wanted what they wanted when they wanted it, and I broke my back to try to give it to them.

I was the dad who’d be kept waiting in the parking lot for three hours while the kids screwed around in the mall, when they were supposed to have run in for “just a second.” When they’d get back to the minivan, I wouldn’t say a word, either, because I knew in the end Miriam would take their side — and they knew it, too. If the girls decided out of the blue that they wanted Dairy Queen or some other treat, as long as it was okay with their mom, I was the dad who’d put on his shoes and run out to get it for them, no matter the weather, time of day or what I happened to be doing at the moment.

And while the kids always made a huge deal out of Miriam’s birthday, baking a cake each year and putting up decorations, my usual present was a ten-dollar Lowe’s gift card from all three of them. As Kaitlyn got older she started going to the dollar store to get a card for me, which she’d always sign, ‘Love, K.’ The twins also signed the cards, but I knew their older sister had taken the time to buy it.

Some people might think it pathetic, but I was happy for that kind of birthday celebration, even if it paled in comparison to how the girls feted their mom each year. Looking back, I can see how lucky I really was.

Then, a week before Christmas last year, the avalanche came raining down one rock at a time.

My crossdressing caused the first stone to tumble loose.

<><><><><><> 

 

Whenever I had the house to myself, I’d don Miriam’s pantyhose, kneel before the commode in the master bathroom and jack off, fantasizing that my wife was making me shoot my load into the toilet water while telling me that my sperm was worthless.

I was in that position on the fateful evening when my secret was exposed to my kids — an episode that plays over and over in my head to this day. Hunched over the toilet and diddling my ding-a-ling, I heard the front door open and slam, followed by the pounding of multiple sneakers rumbling up the stairs in what appeared to be a footrace, something the athletic, competitive girls did all the time.

With my heart in my throat, I tried to close the bathroom door, but recoiled when I saw that it was off the hinges — I had removed it the previous evening when Miriam had wanted the bathroom painted, but I hadn’t put it back on. I tried to set it across the opening, but in my haste the door tipped over and fell to the carpet with a thud. My head was swimming as I darted from the master bathroom toward my robe, which was draped over the dresser on the other side of the bedroom. I was about halfway there when all three of my daughters appeared in the corridor outside the bedroom doorway, and I wanted to kill myself for having left the door wide open. It also dawned on me that I should’ve just removed the pantyhose, and my daughters would’ve merely seen me naked — but like an idiot, goddamn it, I’d panicked.

The girls all stopped in their tracks and stood motionless with their mouths open. I pulled on the robe and then realized that it did no good — my stockinged feet still showed.

Kaitlyn burst into tears before running to her bedroom. The twins turned and ducked into their own room, slamming the door so hard it rattled the pictures on the wall.

My bedroom was spinning and I had to grab the dresser to avoid losing my balance. I retched and dashed back to the bathroom, puking in the toilet where I’d just choked my chicken. After dry-heaving for several minutes, I staggered to the sink and splashed cold water on my face, though I dared not look in the mirror.

I followed the girls’ lead and hid in my bedroom until Miriam came home. A second after I heard the front door close, the kids’ own doors creaked open and their hurried footsteps paddled down the staircase. They clearly couldn’t wait to tell their mom the terrible news.

Voices didn’t carry in our McMansion, so I didn’t bother straining my ears to try to pick up the conversation downstairs, and I wasn’t about to sneak out into the hallway to eavesdrop, either, lest I get caught. With a pillow covering my head, I curled up in bed shivering for what must have been an hour before I heard my wife’s terse summons:

“Ed, come down here.”

<><><><><><> 

 

Like a zombie, I plodded down the stairs. The girls sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch while Miriam was hunched on the edge of her recliner. I was surprised at their soft expressions; I’d expected scowls.

Hailey, always the aggressive one, was the first to talk: “Listen, Dad, we understand this is who you are, and I’m sorry I reacted like that. It was just a shock, that’s all.”

“Me, too,” Jenna echoed while Kaitlyn nodded.

I couldn’t control myself and started crying.

“Come on, Dad, this is nothing,” Hailey said.

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal at all,” her twin added. “Miss Jenson, our English teacher, is trans, and some kids in school are, too.”

Hailey grinned. “I can’t wait to tell everyone our dad is trans. This is so cool.”

My sob caught in my throat, and I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “Uh, I … um, can you guys please not do that? Don’t tell people anything, okay? I’m not trans, honey. I … w-well, I just like to dress up sometimes, that’s all. I-I’m so sorry that you had to see it, but … well, it’s just something I like to do. I don’t do it a whole lot; just every now and then. I … I’m so sorry, you guys. I feel so horrible about this.”

Hailey set her jaw. “Miss Jenson says we shouldn’t hide from who we are.”

Kaitlyn, the oldest but also the quietest, finally spoke: “Yeah, Dad, if you feel like you were born a woman, if that’s who you are inside, then that’s who you need to be. It’ll be a lot worse in the long run if you keep hiding it.”

I scratched the back of my neck. “But … but I’m telling you guys — I don’t feel like I’m a woman inside. That’s not who I am. I … I just … I … uh …”

Miriam turned to her daughters. “Listen, you three, why don’t you go upstairs for a while? I need to talk to your dad alone.”

Hailey sighed. “Okay, but I’m telling you, Dad — you really need to let go of the old way of thinking. It’s not the 1980s anymore. You can be proud of who you are.”

<><><><><><> 

 

My wife gestured toward the couch. “Sit down, Ed.”

I staggered to the sofa and plopped onto the cushion. “H-honey, I—”

Miriam held up her hand. “Just stop. Listen, Ed, I’ve known for a while, okay?”

“Known? Known … uh, about what?”

“You know what. Your fantasies. The dressing up. I found out when we got our first computer, right after the twins were born — I went through the browsing history and saw some of the websites you were going to … all the stuff you posted about how you were dressing in my nylons and jacking off in the toilet when I wasn’t home.”

My stomach churned, and I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from throwing up again. After gulping a few mouthfuls of air, I ventured a question: “If you knew, then why … um, why didn’t you say something?”

“Me? Why didn’t YOU say something?”

I started bawling again. “I’m so sorry, honey. I was afraid … afraid you’d leave me if you found out.”

“Ed, if I’d have wanted to leave you, I’d have done so a long time ago.”

“R-really?”

“Of course, Ed. What the hell. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

I drew a breath. “So … you don’t think I’m … a-a freak?”

Miriam sighed. “No, Ed, you’re not a freak — but now that the girls know, we need to figure out how to deal with it. We talked for a long time before you came down, and they don’t think it’s a big deal at all — you heard Hailey; they think it’s really cool. Like they said, their teacher is trans, and kids in their school are, too. And that’s what they think you are, Ed: They think you’re a woman trapped in a man’s body — and frankly, I think they’re right.”

“Honey, I’m NOT.”

“No? Are you sure?” Miriam smirked. “Mom always thought you were gay, you know.”

“Gay? Seriously? She really thought that? W-why?”

“Well, let’s see, Ed. For starters, you told her you’d rather go to the ballet than a football game. Remember that? At Thanksgiving? You and my brother got in a huge argument over it.”

“Yeah, I remember — Matt was being a jerk. And your mom kept going on and on about it. So, I prefer ballet to football — why is that gay?”

“Mom was from the old country, Ed — she couldn’t understand why a guy would prefer ballet to football, and she swore until the day she died that you were secretly gay. Personally, I never agreed with her, but I do think there’s a woman inside you who’s crying to get out. I mean, you’ve got to admit you’ve got feminine features. We talked about that before; you told me your dad used to say all the time that you looked like a girl. He called you a ‘born sissy.’ Right?”

I pried my jaws open. “Um, yeah.”

“Well, maybe he was right.”

“Why, because I’m short? Because I’m not really hairy?”

“No, it’s more than physical. I’ve been noticing it ever since I found your websites, and you just … I don’t know, Ed, you just seem to like girly stuff. You watch the Hallmark Channel instead of ESPN. You’d rather bake a cake than go to the bar.”

“Well, I was just trying to be a good husband, honey, that’s all.” A tear snaked down my cheek. “I know you don’t like me going to bars, so I never go. I put on the Hallmark Channel because that’s what I figured you’d want to watch. And I don’t really like sports — that doesn’t mean I’m gay.”

“Whatever.” Miriam shrugged. “It doesn’t matter at this point. For now, we’re telling the kids you’re trans. It’s something they understand, and they’re actually excited about it.”

I held out my hands. “But honey — why can’t we just tell them the truth?”

“And what IS the truth, Ed?” Miriam bared her fangs. “Should we tell them that their dad is some little creep who sneaks around putting on their mom’s pantyhose and jacking off into the toilet?”

She had me there.

“We can actually turn a potentially traumatic incident for them into a positive.” Miriam chuckled. “Like I said, the girls are quite excited about you being trans. They want to take you shopping for a whole new wardrobe.”

“Come on, Miriam, this is bullcrap! I don’t want to go shopping! I don’t want them telling their school friends that I’m a transsexual. What the hell! I’M NOT A WOMAN INSIDE A MAN’S BODY! THAT’S NOT WHO I AM!”

Miriam’s eyes flashed. “Who the FUCK do you think you’re yelling at, Ed?”

My shoulders drooped. “I-I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to raise my voice. Please, I’m sorry.”

“You’re damn RIGHT you’re sorry. Don’t be snapping at me, you little bastard — you’re the one who put us in this position in the first place.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Okay, Miriam?”

“I don’t want to make this any more confusing for the girls than it has to be. This is completely your fault, Ed — so don’t piss me off. I can’t believe you had the fucking nerve to yell at me.”

“P-please, honey, I’m sorry, alright? I’ll tell the girls I’m … uh, trans and that I’m really a woman inside if that’s what you want — but can we at least ask them to keep this quiet outside the family? Please? I’m begging you, honey. I’ll lose half my patients if this gets out.”

Miriam chewed her lip. “Okay. We’ll tell them this is something you’re not ready to announce to the world just yet.”

I heaved a sigh. “Thank you, Miriam.”

She nodded and yelled: “Girls! Come down here.”

<><><><><><> 

 

I had to pee, both from the apprehension churning my gut and from having guzzled five glasses of water to soothe my parched throat. Kaitlyn, Hailey and Jenna were back on the couch, with their mom still parked in her easy chair. I stood in front of everybody, fidgeting and praying for Mother Earth to swallow me whole.

Miriam sat up straight. “Girls, your dad has something to tell you. Ed?”

I looked at my shoes and kicked at the carpet. “Um, well, um, you guys were right. I, uh, I feel like I was born in the wrong body, and, uh, I’ve always repressed it. I’m sorry you guys had to find out this way. I’m so sorry.”

“Aw, it’s okay, dad.” Hailey beamed. “We understand. Miss Jenson says lots of trans people struggle with who they are at first. It just took you longer to accept it, that’s all.”

“Yeah, better late than never,” Kaitlyn chipped in.

I nodded and faked a smile. “Thanks, you guys. But listen — your mom and me talked about it, and we don’t think we’re quite ready to tell other people about this. Okay?”

Hailey pouted. “Come on, Mom! Why can’t we tell anybody?”

“Because you can’t. We don’t want it getting out.”

“I already told Taylor,” Jenna said.

My jaw dropped. “You did WHAT?”

“I called her a minute ago and told her.” Jenna blinked. “She’s my best friend, and we tell each other everything. What’s the big deal? She thought it was frigging awesome that my dad’s trans.”

I groaned. “Honey, if my patients find out, I could lose my practice. Please, this can’t get out.”

Miriam nodded. “Jenna, call Taylor back and tell her she needs to keep this a secret. Tell her your father isn’t ready to announce that he’s trans just yet. Explain that he could lose his dental practice if people find out, okay, honey? This is important.”

With an annoyed sigh, Jenna activated her cellphone and stomped out of the living room, although she returned a few minutes later clearly tickled.

“Taylor says it’ll be between just us. She pinky-promised she wouldn’t say anything to anyone, so I guarantee she won’t. I invited her to go clothes shopping with us.”

I blinked. “Um … c-clothes shopping?”

“Yeah, Dad. Just because you aren’t ready to announce it to the world, you’ll need a new wardrobe so you can dress at home. That way, it’ll be easier for you to transition when you ARE ready to tell everyone.”

I cleared my throat. “B-but … I … listen, honey, I don’t think I want to—”

Miriam cut me off: “That sounds great, girls, You’re on Christmas break tomorrow so you can take him shopping then if you want. Just be discreet about it — remember, we need to keep this a secret. We don’t want your father losing his practice.”

“We will,” Kaitlyn said.

Hailey nodded. “So, Dad — what’s your female name?”

“I … I don’t really have one, honey.”

“Well, you’ve got to have a female name,” Hailey whined.

I licked my lips. “Um, not really. I’m fine without one. And I don’t really need to dress at home. I’m telling you, guys, I—”

Miriam shot me a look. “Ed …”

I gulped. “Um, okay. I … well, I haven’t really thought of what name to use, honey.”

“Google the female version of ‘Ed,’” Jenna suggested.

“Look up ‘Edward,’” Kaitlyn added.

Hailey fumbled with her smartphone and giggled. “Okay: Edwarda, Edalene, Edyth, Edmonda, Edmonia, Edmunda, Edna, Edwina—”

“I like ‘Edna,” Jenna said. “The rest sound dumb.”

“Dad kind of looks like an ‘Edna,’” Hailey agreed.

Kaitlyn searched my eyes. “Does ‘Edna’ sound good to you, Dad?”

“Um, I … I …” I looked at my wife, who nodded. I gulped. “Yes, honey, Edna’s fine.”

The twins cheered and repeated “Edna!” while Miriam leaned back in her chair with an amused twitch to her lips.

Hailey furrowed her brow. “So, should we call you ‘Aunt Edna’ instead of ‘Dad’ now?”

Jenna sniggered. “Ooh, yeah, that’s perfect. From now on, we’ll call you, ‘Aunt Edna.’”

“Just at home, girls,” Miriam warned.

“Promise!” Hailey crossed her heart.

Miriam smiled at me. “Okay, then, EDNA, I’m starving after all this drama tonight — why don’t you go ahead and get started on dinner?”

<><><><><><> 

 

The girls chattered nonstop from the backseat, although I was so nervous I could barely hold onto the steering wheel as I nosed the minivan into the Pinetree Mall parking lot, which was jam-packed during the holiday shopping season. I drove around until lucking out into a parking spot near the mall.

“Come on, Aunt Edna,” Hailey called as she, her siblings and Jenna’s best friend Taylor spilled out of the minivan and practically sprinted through the parking lot toward the mall while I struggled to keep up, feeling like a condemned man on his way to the gallows.

Aside from the humiliating circumstances of being dragged to the mall to purchase a new female wardrobe, it felt odd that my daughters were paying me so much attention. They’d always ignored me unless they wanted something, and would roll their eyes whenever I’d initiate a conversation. Their change in attitude was palpable; instead of them seeing me as some shrimpy, lame dentist, I was totally rad as a trans dad.

Our first stop was Macy’s. The girls browsed for a spell before Hailey found a blue dress that fancied her and held it up to my chest. “You’re about Aunt Edna’s size, Dad,” she told me for the benefit of the nearby saleswoman. “I think this would fit her, what do you guys think?”

The other girls concurred and, under that guise, we continued shopping for ‘Aunt Edna.’

After we’d visited four stores and I’d purchased six dresses and three sleeping gowns, I thought we were done, although Hailey asked out of nowhere, “Hey, what about panties?”

I coughed. “Girls, that’s not necessary. I—”

Hailey looked just like her mother as she cut me off with a dismissive hand-wave. “Oh, come on, Dad. You need underwear — I don’t think Mom wants you going commando.”

That got a titter from the girls, and I was mortified. I also knew I was defeated, so I shrugged and followed the foursome into Victoria’s Secret.

As the saleslady approached us, Hailey told her, “We’re here to buy some panties and bras for our Aunt Edna. She’s about my Dad’s size.”

The store employee pointed toward a bin. “Those are on sale — $30 for a set.”

The girls rushed toward the bin, and started holding up panties to my waist and bras against my breast to see if they’d fit their ‘Aunt Edna.’ I got the distinct feeling that the saleswoman wasn’t buying the ruse, but she said nothing, and I suffered the indignity of being fitted for panties and bras. I paid for the purchase and left the store with a relieved sigh.

As we were headed toward the mall exit, Kaitlyn, ever the pragmatist, suggested: “Hey, you guys — don’t you think we should get Aunt Edna something for when she cleans the house and stuff? We got nice dresses, stuff to sleep in and undies, but there’s nothing for everyday working around the house.”

Hailey nodded. “We can probably pick up a few cheap dresses at The Charge.”

Sure enough, The Charge offered threadbare, ugly, flowery frocks at two for $25. After our purchase, we finally headed home.

“Is your Aunt Edna gonna model everything for us when we get back to your place?” Taylor asked.

I looked at my daughter’s friend in the rearview mirror. “No, Taylor.”

“Aw, come on, Dad — I mean, Aunt Edna,” Hailey whined. “We need to see if everything fits.”

“Yeah,” Jenna chimed in. “And I guarantee Mom’s gonna want to see you in your new clothes.”

As always when they wanted me to do something, Jenna had used her mother as leverage.

But when we got back home Miriam was gone, having left a note on the kitchen counter:

“Went to the gym. Go ahead and eat; I’ll eat later. Love, Mom”

It didn’t matter — the girls wouldn’t leave me alone until I’d agreed to model everything for them. They got a huge kick out of it, although for me it was completely embarrassing. I swallowed my degradation and played along until finally I’d tried on every outfit and Taylor had gone home.

Thankful the humiliating ordeal was over, I changed into my sweats and headed to the kitchen to start on dinner.

“What are you wearing?” Hailey frowned. “Aren’t you gonna wear one of those housecleaning dresses we just bought?”

“Uh, not tonight, honey.”

Jenna exhaled. “Come on, Aunt Edna — you’re falling back into your old habits again. You said you were gonna start accepting who you are, and dressing as a female at home. That’s what you told Mom, remember?”

With droopy shoulders, I nodded. “All, right, honey. You’re right. Let me go change.”

I slogged into my bedroom and donned one of my cheap, ugly frocks. Feeling like an absolute fool, I headed back downstairs.

The girls cheered when they saw me.

Hailey smiled. “You look nice, Aunt Edna. Just like an older woman, except for the hair. But you can grow it out when you’re ready to transition full-time.”

“That’s mean.” Kaitlyn frowned. “You don’t look like an old woman, Dad — I mean, Aunt Edna. You actually look quite pretty.”

“Yeah, you look great,” Jenna concurred.

“T-thanks, guys.” I coughed.

Hailey rubbed her stomach. “Ugh, I’m starving after walking in the mall all day.”

“Me too.” Her twin smiled at me. “You think we can have hamburgers tonight, Aunt Edna?”

“Sure, honey,” I said before lumbering to the kitchen and firing up the stove, feeling self-conscious as all get-out in my ugly, feminine getup.

<><><><><><> 

 

When Miriam got home from her workout, the girls pestered me to model everything again. My wife seemed pleased, which was a relief that somewhat assuaged the crushing humiliation I felt as I pranced in front of her in my outfits while she sipped wine and relaxed in her easy chair.

The next few days were a blur. I wore the housework frocks all weekend, although I was able to escape for a couple hours when I did my usual Saturday grocery shopping dressed as a man. I stayed away from home as long as I dared, although I knew I couldn’t hide in Kroger all day. When I got back to the house, the second after I’d lugged in the last bag from the minivan, the girls were cajoling me to “get dressed as Aunt Edna again.”

After I’d changed and served my daughters a light lunch, Hailey suggested: “You should wear makeup, too, Aunt Edna. We’ll teach you.”

Jenna’s face lit up. “Yeah, Aunt Edna — come on.” She leapt from her dining room chair and dragged me to the bathroom.

The girls had a ball showing me how to apply lipstick, eye shadow, mascara and rouge. When my face was finished, Kaitlyn kissed my cheek.

“You look so pretty, Aunt Edna.”

Her little sisters agreed — and when I glanced in the mirror, I had to admit I WAS pretty.

I also had to admit that I was starting to enjoy this new normal, because as humiliating as it was, it also meant I was no longer an annoyance to my precious daughters. Instead, they looked at me as a brave hero, and it felt damn good. Rather than my crossdressing continuing as a source of shame, I actually started feeling good about who I was. In private, my situation also provided great jerkoff material, as I imagined I was living as my wife’s sissy maid. I’d been fantasizing about that scenario since the beginning of our relationship, but it seemed realer with me now dressing as a woman at home, and realizing that Miriam had known about my kink for years.

Despite my lifelong fears of being outed as a sissy, things were going surprisingly well after my secret was exposed. As long as my crossdressing remained behind closed doors, I had to admit that I was happier than I’d ever been in my life. My daughters actually looked up to me for a change. Miriam seemed content.

Then, on Christmas Day, a huge boulder came rumbling down the mountain, crushing me like a cuckolded cockroach.

<><><><><><> 

 

I passed out presents like I had done every year since the kids were babies, but unlike previous Christmas mornings, I didn’t play Santa Claus — I was Aunt Edna Claus. For the first time, the girls showered me with gifts: Dresses, heels, makeup, you name it. Miriam actually seemed a little miffed that I was getting more attention than her for a change, although that may have been just my imagination.

After all the presents under the tree had been opened and I had disposed of all the wrappings, we dug into our stockings. Mine was full of feminine products: Little bottles of skin cream, nail files and polish.

But it was the card from Aunt Nora that hit like a kick to the nuts.

Jenna opened it. “Hey, Aunt Nora got us a subscription to yourancestors.com.”

Hailey rolled her eyes. “That’s for Kaitlyn; she’s into all that history crap.”

“Heck yeah — this is frigging awesome,” Kaitlyn proclaimed, which for her was a major outburst. “I’m gonna swab my cheek and mail off the DNA today.”

“You can’t mail it today, dummy — it’s Christmas,” Hailey joshed.

“Then, I’ll mail it tomorrow,” Kaitlyn said, snatching the gift card from her little sister and scanning the lettering.

Miriam squirmed in her chair. “Um, uh, I don’t know about all this genealogy stuff, you guys.”

Kaitlyn squinted “Why? What’s wrong?”

Miriam pulled at her sleeve. “I … I don’t know. Why start digging into all that crap?”

The head of our household was rattled. I was shocked, and could tell the girls were taken aback, too. Normally, Miriam was completely in charge of both the homestead and her emotions, and it was jarring to see her on her heels like that.

Kaitlyn pressed her: “Digging into what crap, Mom? I just want to know more about our background. Don’t you want to know more about Grandma’s family in Ukraine?”

“Yeah, and we don’t know much about Dad’s family at all,” Jenna added.

“You mean Aunt Edna,” her twin corrected her.

Kaitlyn looked at me. “Do you know what country your ancestors came from?”

It dawned on me that this was the first time any of the girls had asked about my family, and I was happy to tell them that my great-great grandparents were from Ireland, and that they’d arrived in the United States through Ellis Island in the 1890s, although I wasn’t sure exactly which year, and was curious to find out. My mother had died at childbirth and Dad passed while Miriam was pregnant with Kaitlyn.

The more we discussed family history, the more agitated Miriam became.

“Can you guys do me a favor and throw that damn card away?” She glowered. “What’s the point in looking backward?”

Kaitlyn tilted her head. “You’re acting weird, Mom.”

The twins agreed. I did, too, although I kept my mouth shut.

Miriam stared at her fingernails for several seconds before clearing her throat. “Listen, girls, you need to go upstairs.”

<><><><><><> 

 

I drew a breath and ventured a question: “Honey, what’s going on? You’re not acting right.”

“Ed …” Miriam’s eyes watered.

Bolting from my seat, I stood next to her chair and put my hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, honey, don’t cry. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Miriam moved my hand. She glanced at me for a brief second before averting her gaze. “Ed … they’re not yours.”

“What? What’s not mine?”

She cried harder. “The girls, Ed — you’re not … not their father.”

It’s funny how the mind works, because when she told me that I thought she was joking at first, and I envisioned the kids jumping out from behind the curtain with cellphones trained on me to catch my reaction to the prank. Then, when I saw that her tears weren’t subsiding, I thought that maybe she’d mixed up her words, or was speaking in parables. Finally, the truth washed over me like a tidal wave that literally knocked me down; I staggered toward the couch, fell onto the nearest soft spot and started crying myself.

Through my tears, I tossed out a ray of hope: “How can you know for sure they’re not mine?”

Miriam sniffled. “Because even before we stopped having sex, we were hardly doing anything back then anyway, Ed. I did the math, and I hadn’t been with you either time. Besides, all three of them look just like their father. Trust me, they’re not yours. I’m so sorry, Ed.”

I wiped my eyes. “So … Kaitlyn was born less than a year after we got married — how long were you seeing this guy? Who was he?”

Miriam covered her face with her hands. “It’s … it’s Phil, Ed.”

“Phil? Your boss?”

“Yes, Ed. I’m so sorry.”

“So, what? You’re … you’re STILL SEEING HIM?”

Miriam blinked twice — a silent yes.

I thought about it for a second and the rage swelled my throat. “So, all this time I thought you couldn’t have sex because of menopause — fourteen years, since the twins were born — and the whole time you were fucking Phil? And making me think the girls were mine?”

“I’m sorry, Ed, I’m sorrrrrrryyyy.” Miriam shook with convulsions. She’d had never looked more shrunken and pathetic. My anger melted and I found myself feeling sorry for her.

I swallowed. “So … do you even love me, Miriam?”

She broke into a renewed sob. “Of course, I love you, Ed. It’s just … you’ve got to understand — after I found that stuff you were posting on those websites about dressing up in my nylons … I’m sorry, but I just didn’t want to be intimate with you after that.”

“So, you kept fucking your boss instead.”

“Yes, Ed. I kept fucking my boss. Keep saying it that way — if you’re trying to hurt me, it’s working.”

“Hurt you? Honey, you’re the one who cheated on ME.”

“No — YOU cheated on ME by going behind my back and wearing my pantyhose.” Miriam’s eyes flashed. “You never told me you were like that, Ed. How did you think I was going to react when I found out?”

“But you were with Phil even before you found out. Before Kaitlyn was born.”

“Look, Ed, I said I was sorry, okay? What else do you want me to say?”

“Do you love him?”

Miriam didn’t utter a word. It told me all I needed to know.

I ran my tongue over the roof of my mouth. “So, you love him AND me?”

“Is … is that so crazy?”

“I … I don’t know, Miriam. Who knows what’s crazy and what’s not? I mean, I’m standing here in a goddamn ugly housedress.”

My wife and I locked eyes and shared a giggle. It felt like a bag of bricks being lifted from my shoulders.

“The girls really get a kick out of you now,” Miriam said.

I gritted my teeth, my anger rekindled. “You mean the girls who aren’t mine?”

Miriam sighed. “Come on, Ed.”

“Don’t you mean Edna? Isn’t that my name now?”

“Why are you doing this? Do you want to fight?” She pursed her lips. “Do you want a divorce?”

“NO!” After I’d blurted it out, I was embarrassed at how quickly I’d answered.

Miriam rose from her chair and sat next to me on the couch. She rubbed my nylon-encased leg. “Good. I’m glad. I don’t want a divorce, either. But I need to know — can you deal with me and Phil?”

“I don’t know, honey. Everything’s upside down. The girls think I’m trans. Now, I find out they aren’t even my girls. And you … you didn’t hit menopause; you’ve been … with your boss all this time. It just hurts, Miriam. It hurts real bad.”

I started crying again and my wife leaned in for a hug. “It’s not all bad, is it?” She stroked my hair. “Haven’t things been nicer around here since you started living as trans?”

“Y-yeah,” I sniffled. “Yeah, they have.”

“Maybe change can be good.” Miriam patted my cheek. “You never know.”

I nodded. “So, what do we tell the girls?”

“We tell them. They’re going to find out from that damn genealogy website anyway.”

“Do you think they can handle it, honey?”

“Sure, they can. They’re all pretty mature — you see how they handled catching you in drag. That could’ve been a disaster, and it turned into a positive for everyone.”

I didn’t tell her that as far as I was concerned, having to dress as a woman at home was decidedly NOT a positive. I’d done it to hold my family together, and for a hot minute I’d thought I was succeeding — only to find out I had no family.

Miriam broke my reverie: “I don’t want to lie to the girls, and lead some double life. Not anymore. I think if we’re going to tell them about Phil, they need to know everything.”

“What? That you’re still seeing him?”

“Yes.” Miriam tightened her jaw. “If he’s going to continue to be in my life, I think the girls need to meet him — it wouldn’t be fair to keep them from him after they find out he’s their real dad. You know?”

I felt wrung out and barely summoned the strength for a weak nod.

Miriam stroked my ear. “You sure you’re okay with all this, honey?”

With great effort, I nodded again.

Miriam nodded back and yelled, “Girls! Come down.”

 

<><><><><><> 

 

I had met Phil Mansfield at work functions Miriam had dragged me to over the years. He was Polecat Publishing’s Executive Editor and it wasn’t hard to see why my wife had chosen him as a lover.

He was a swashbuckler, having won an Olympic Bronze Medal as a light-heavyweight boxer before a shoulder injury snuffed out his dreams of a pro career. He then earned his degree in journalism and became a war correspondent for national magazines, covering conflicts in Iraq, the Balkans, Russia and Afghanistan. By age 30, he’d lost his appetite for reporting and settled into the book editor’s job — and then into his affair with my wife.

It also wasn’t hard to see why Miriam didn’t want to leave me for Phil. While he had a fancy title, Polecat was a mid-sized publishing house, and she would’ve taken a major financial hit if she’d relied on him as the primary breadwinner.

<><><><><><> 

 

The girls immediately read the tension in the room.

“Okay, you need to tell me what’s going on because you’re both acting REALLY weird,” Hailey said.

Jenna folded her arms. “Yeah, Mom, what’s up?”

“Sit down, girls.” Miriam waved toward the couch and the three teens complied.

I stood at Miriam’s side as she crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair. “I don’t even know where to start. Um, Kaitlyn, if you send your DNA to that website, it’s not going to tell you anything about your dad’s family … um, because he’s not your real father.”

The girls all looked at each other and then back at their mother.

Hailey scratched her head. “Is … is this a joke?”

“No, honey. It’s not a joke.” Miriam fidgeted. “I was going to tell you when you got older. I’m sorry.”

Kaitlyn blinked at me. “Did you know about this? That you weren’t our real dad?”

“Uh, no, honey, I just found out today, too.”

Miriam nodded, causing a tear to break loose and slide down her cheek. “This is my fault, you guys. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. I … well, I’ll just come out and say it: I had an affair. Actually, I’m still having an affair. With your father. Your real father. I don’t know how else to explain this to you, but sometimes a person can love two people at the same time. I love your dad … I mean, your Aunt Edna. But I also love Phil.”

“That’s our father’s name?” Kaitlyn leaned forward. “Phil? Phil who?”

“Phil Mansfield. He’s my boss at work. We’ve had a relationship since before you guys were born.”

“And you kept it from us all this time?” Tears slithered down Jenna’s face.

Kaitlyn added, “And you kept it from Da— uh, Aunt Edna?”

“Come on, Jenna, don’t try to make Mom feel bad,” Kaitlyn said. “I mean, it only makes sense — if Aunt Edna is really a woman trapped in a man’s body, then Mom would need to have an actual man in her life.”

Her comment stung but I kept my trap shut.

Hailey grinned. “Yeah, Ma — you’re not a lesbian, are you?”

That broke the ice and everyone laughed, including me.

Kaitlyn asked her mother, “Does our real father know about us — that we’re his kids?”

“Sure, he does, honey, and he’s wanted to have a relationship with you for so long. He really has. But we felt it was best if he just stayed in the background, and we figured someday the right time would come to introduce you.”

Kaitlyn cocked her head. “So, are we gonna get to meet him?”

Miriam smiled. “Yes, I think that would be great, honey. Why don’t we invite him over for dinner?”

The girls wiped their faces and nodded.

I about pissed my panties.

<><><><><><> 

 

I had just finished cleaning the house and was getting ready to relax in bed when a strange number flashed on my cellphone screen. Thinking it was spam, I almost didn’t answer it, but decided to pick up after five rings.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Ed? Or, I’m sorry — Edna?”

My blood ran cold. “Who is this?”

“It’s Phil Mansfield. Miriam’s … um, from her work.”

“I know who you are. Um, what … what can I do for you?”

“Well, I got your number from Miriam. I thought we should talk.”

I gripped my phone harder. “Okay. About what?”

“Everything. Listen, I know this is a weird situation, and we’re all swimming in unchartered waters here. I know you love Miriam, and she loves you, too. But … well, we love each other, too. She says she explained everything to you?”

“Yes, she explained it.” My voice pissed acid.

Phil cleared his throat. “Well, look, I don’t want any more problems than there already are, Ed … or that’s Edna, sorry. Miriam says you’re finally embracing your true self?”

“Jeez, is there anything private? What other private shit do you guys talk about?”

“Relax, Edna, Miriam cares about you and she talks about you sometimes.” Phil huffed into the phone. “She’s not the bad guy here. I’m not, either.”

“So, I am?”

“No, no, no — nobody’s the bad guy, Edna. But you never told her who you are — she was devastated when she went on your computer and found all that stuff.”

“And she ran and told you. I’m sure you guys got a big laugh out of it. I’m sure you got a big laugh out of screwing around behind my back — and me thinking the girls were my daughters.” I didn’t want to cry but I couldn’t help it; I started bawling.

I got no sympathy.

“Look, Edna, goddamn it, you need to stop this horseshit right now. We’ve been dealt this deck of cards, and now we need to figure out how to handle it — so, stop all the goddamn whining. Miriam says you don’t want a divorce, and she says you’re okay with us seeing each other. And now that the girls know, I want to meet them, Edna. I’ve been dying to have a relationship with them for a long time, but Miriam and I decided that would blow up your marriage and the kids would be the ones to get hurt. So, I stayed in the background. But she invited me over for dinner tomorrow and I’m coming. The question is: Are you gonna deal with this like a goddamn adult, or are you gonna keep pissing and moaning, and causing a bunch of problems? Miriam says you’re okay with everything — I just need to know for myself, because the last thing I want is a bunch of bullshit. Are you? Okay with everything? If not, I’ll just take the kids out to a restaurant, so I won’t have to deal with any drama.”

Despite the diatribe I wanted to launch at this asshole, all I could manage was, “Um, yeah.”

“Yeah, what, Edna? Tell me.”

“Yes, I’m … I’m good with everything.”

Phil popped his lips. “Wonderful. I’ll see you at dinner then. Hey, what are you making?”

“Miriam wanted chicken parmesan. She, um, she said it’s your favorite.”

“Ugh, I just had chicken parm yesterday. Tell her I’d rather have steaks.”

“Um, she doesn’t really like changing the menu once she’s decided on something. Believe me.”

“Just tell her.”

“Um, okay.”

“Great, we’ll see you tomorrow, Edna. Bye, now.”

The line went dead. So did my brain.

<><><><><><> 

 

The steaks were broiling in the oven when the knock at the front door made everyone in the house jump.

Miriam and the girls had been nervous wrecks in the hours leading up to Phil’s inaugural visit, while I’m not sure how I was able to hold it together. My office was closed for the holidays, so I had nothing to do all day but wait for the witching hour, 7pm, when our guest was scheduled to arrive. The fact that I was wearing a dress didn’t help.

He knocked at precisely 7:03pm. Miriam opened the door and they exchanged glances and a quick hug. He was a lot taller than I’d remembered, and Miriam had to tiptoe to embrace him before leading him into our home.

Before he’d taken three steps, the girls were upon him and they had a group hug in the foyer, with me the lone outsider. They must’ve embraced for a full two minutes, and it was clear they’d completely forgotten I was there.

They finally parted, and Phil had tears in his eyes when he said, “OMG, you girls are so beautiful. I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long — this is the happiest day of my life.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house other than mine.

Following a few more minutes of Phil, Miriam and their daughters going back and forth about how special the moment was, the kids’ real dad finally addressed me:

“Hello, there, Edna. Nice dress.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“I appreciate how you’re handling all this,” Phil told me as the twins led him by each hand into the living room. “We’ll figure out a way to make it work.”

Everyone settled in while I excused myself to tend to the steaks. Miriam hadn’t batted an eye earlier when I’d informed her that Phil had wanted to change the menu — whereas with me, she’d have had a shit-fit, she merely shrugged and told me to go to the store to pick up porterhouses.

From my perch in the kitchen, I could see into the living room, and how entranced Miriam and the girls were with this handsome, uber-masculine new presence in our home who regaled them with stories about his boxing days and his adventures as a foreign war correspondent. By the time I announced that dinner was ready, Miriam and Phil had scooted together, and were holding hands while the girls beamed, clearly thrilled at the idea of their biological father and mother being together. I had to admit — they looked perfect as a couple, as if they were born for each other.

When everyone sat down to eat, I brought the platter of meat to the dining room and found Miriam sitting in my usual chair, having abdicated her spot at the head of the table to Phil. There wasn’t an open seat for me, something that in my nervousness I hadn’t considered while preparing for the evening.

I stood there awkwardly for a few minutes while everyone dug in and continued listening to Phil. Finally, Kaitlyn noticed me. “Hey, Aunt Edna, where are you gonna sit?”

I shrugged. “I … I don’t know. There aren’t enough chairs. I guess I can bring my desk chair in from the den.”

“That big thing?” Miriam frowned. “There’s not enough room at the table, Edna — that chair’s huge.”

“I’ve got a beanbag in my room you can use,” Kaitlyn offered, and without waiting for an answer she dashed up the stairs, returning seconds later lugging a purple beanbag chair, which she plopped on the floor next to Phil.

“Thanks, honey,” I said, grabbing my plate and sinking into the beanbag which was only a few inches off the ground.

Phil already was nearly a full foot taller than me, but sitting on my low perch further highlighted the difference between us. The table was at face level — and my nose wasn’t too far from Phil’s crotch, either, as he relaxed in what was normally Miriam’s chair, wooing his female audience with an endless string of colorful stories and anecdotes. I had to set my plate on my lap to eat, since the table was too high. I felt like I was eating at the kid’s table, left out of the conversation above me.

The only time anyone talked to me throughout the entire meal was when Hailey asked me to bring the steak sauce — and when Miriam jokingly chided me to keep my knees together while sitting on the beanbag chair, because, as she said to everyone’s great amusement, “it’s not ladylike to have your legs spread out like that so everyone can see your business.”

During dessert, Jenna said something to Phil that broke my heart:

“It’s so cool to have a real dad like you.”

As her sisters and mother nodded in agreement, I excused myself and headed to the bathroom, where I had a good cry. My pity party lasted several minutes before I was able to pull myself together. I knew the worst thing I could possibly do would be to rain on everyone’s good time by moping, so I put a few drops of Visine in my eyes, fixed my makeup and flushed the toilet to pretend I’d just taken a crap, whereas the opposite had just happened — I felt like I’d been shit on. Still, I swallowed my pride, squared my ruffled shoulders and headed back out to the living room to rejoin what had once been my family.

As soon as I got back, Phil raised his finger and said, “Hey-a, Edna, you guys got any beer?”

Miriam answered before I could: “There’s a six-pack of Michelob in the fridge; I had Edna pick it up because I know it’s your favorite.”

“Oh, great — you think you could grab me a cold one, there, Edna?” Beneath Phil’s smile lurked a smirk.

“Uh, s-sure. Anyone else want anything to drink?”

Nobody answered because their attention was on Phil, who held my wife’s hand as he sat like a king at the head of my dinner table.

When I returned from the kitchen with a can of Michelob, Phil frowned. “Listen, Edna, if you don’t mind, I really prefer my beer in a glass.”

I gritted my teeth. “Uh, sure. One sec.”

When I set the glass down in front of him, Phil picked it up, took a long gulp, and said, “Ahhhhh! That hit the spot. But to be honest, I really like drinking beer out of a chilled mug — so from now on, do you think you can keep one in the freezer when I come over, Edna?”

The nerve! All I could manage, however, was a tepid, “Um, yeah, s-sure.”

Hailey’s face brightened. “Hey, Dad, maybe you could move in with us, and Edna could keep the glasses chilled all the time.”

He chuckled and glanced at Miriam. “I don’t know, honey — maybe someday.”

I excused myself and headed back to the bathroom, devastated that Hailey had suggested Phil move in with us only hours after meeting him — and the fact that she’d already used the ‘D’ word didn’t help, either. After only a few hours, I’d been replaced as “Dad.” I was now “Aunt Edna.” Phil was “Dad.”

The handsome, charming, intelligent, worldly, rugged bastard stuck around bonding with his new family until after 11pm, while I withered on the sidelines unnoticed, feeling every bit like a pathetic sissy cuckold in my makeup and dress — and while that scenario had been the subject of innumerable jerkoff fantasies, I was decidedly NOT turned on by what was happening.

By the time Phil had hugged everyone (except me) and said his goodbyes with the promise that he’d be in touch the next day to plan a New Year’s outing, I was emasculated in every sense of the word. And not in a good way.

<><><><><><> 

 

Miriam smiled at me as I pulled on my satiny nightgown.

“That went well, I thought,” she said. “What do you think?”

“Uh, yeah, he seems like a nice guy.” I gulped. “The girls seemed to take to him pretty good.”

Miriam studied my face. “There’s a place for everyone here, you know.”

“I know, honey.” I took her hand. “We can make it work. For the girls’ sake.”

“For your sake, too, Edna. We all need to be happy.”

“I am,” I lied. “I am happy.”

<><><><><><> 

 

I hardly slept at all after Phil’s visit, and I was dressed and out of the house before Miriam or the girls woke up the next morning. After stopping off at the donut shop for a large coffee, I opened the office and started my day, although I had a difficult time concentrating on my patients, given the crucible I’d suffered through the previous evening.

I must’ve looked pretty wrung out because two of my hygienists and three patients asked if I was okay. I told them I had a headache and tried to push through it. Thankfully, my 2:30 root canal was cancelled and I was able to leave before 3 — I had to get the hell out of there.

Nobody was expecting me home for several hours, so I drove to one of my favorite spots, Reilly Park, which had a row of picnic tables near a cluster of willow trees along the Navajo River. When I was a kid, I’d come to the park to get away from my father, a dirty, rotten sonofabitch if ever there was one.

The old man hated me — he constantly called me a girly-boy and compared me to my macho older brother Ryan, who was killed in Iraq when I was 10. My father had been forced to raise two boys alone after Mom died giving birth to me, and while he was best buds with Ryan, he made it clear that he didn’t like me, and resented having to take care of me. According to Dad, he and my mother had planned for only one kid, but I was an accident, born 11 years after Ryan — because, as my father always said, “your stupid cunt mom forgot to take her goddamn pills and she refused to get an abortion after she got pregnant with your faggoty ass. That’s why G-d paid her back by killing her when she had you.”

My father was an insane, bitter old man who thought I was weak and effeminate, and he was constantly on my ass about something. His favorite phrase was that I was a ‘born sissy.’ Dad treated me like shit from the time I was a baby until he keeled over from a heart attack, but it got really bad after Ryan was KIA. From then on, I could do nothing right as far as my father was concerned, so I would spend as much time away from home as possible. I didn’t have any friends, so I wiled away the hours sitting alone on my favorite picnic bench near the willow trees at Reilly Park, gazing at the flowing river and wishing for a better life.

For a while there, I thought my wish had come true. I figured I’d carved out a pretty decent existence for myself, considering that I’d grown up being constantly told I was worthless. I had a successful dental practice, with patients and a staff who loved me. I was married to a beautiful woman. Sure, Miriam bossed me around and had me pussywhipped, and anyone who saw us together could probably figure out that she’d only married me for my money. But things weren’t too bad; dare I say, I was happy most of the time. In addition to my lovely wife, I had three lovely daughters who were everything to me. While my children had never exactly been warm and fuzzy with me (taking the cue from their mother), having kids gave me purpose. Since my own dad had been such a dickhead, I was determined to be a good father. I was happy to drive the girls wherever they wanted to go, or stop whatever I was doing and run out to McDonald’s or Dairy Queen whenever the mood struck them. On multiple occasions I’d spent hours waiting in line for tickets to concerts the girls wanted to see, and felt a rush of pride when I saw how happy my efforts had made them, even if they didn’t always show gratitude.

It made my stomach hurt to realize that I’d been doing all that stuff for kids who weren’t even mine, and I hoped some alone time by the Navajo River might settle my insides down. I nestled on my favorite picnic table and tried to conjure up soothing images, but I kept thinking about the bad stuff …

… how Miriam must’ve smirked every time I hopped up to change the girls’ diapers or clean one of their messes, knowing I was doting on her lover’s kids while she relaxed and watched me do all the work …

… how she must’ve laughed with Phil after she shared with him my posts online about my habit of donning her pantyhose and jacking off into the toilet while fantasizing about being her sissy slave …

… how they must’ve gotten even more laughs at how I’d been duped into thinking Miriam couldn’t have sex because of menopause, while the whole time — fourteen years! — she was fucking just fine behind my back …

… how much of a loser I must’ve seemed to Phil the previous evening, wearing a dress and waiting on him while he sat at the head of my dinner table holding my wife’s hand. The smug sonofabitch had ordered me around like a damned serf in front of the whole family, and nobody batted an eye. They’d acted like it was the most natural thing in the world for Phil to be in charge, and for me to be his little toady. While I’d always fantasized about being my wife’s sissy maid, this was a whole new dimension altogether — I found nothing erotic whatsoever about having this muscular asshole embarrass me in front of Miriam and the girls.

… how Kaitlyn and the twins had so breezily tossed me aside after meeting their real father, calling him ‘Dad’ and asking him to move in with us. Throughout the girls’ lives, I’d killed myself to try to be the best dad I could be, and until they caught me in drag, they’d treated me like a servant with no feelings, other than Kaitlyn, who treated me like a servant WITH feelings. Then, after they’d gotten it in their heads that I was trans, I suddenly seemed cool to them. Sure, they were using me like some kind of trinket — a dress-up Barbie — but it was nice to be on their side for a change. Then, as soon as Phil entered the picture I was chopped liver … a decrepit, old Raggedy Ann doll nobody wanted anymore.

I hunched on the picnic table watching through tears as a kayaker navigated the Navajo River. I looked at my phone’s clock; the hours had passed quickly, and it was time to go home and start dinner. I sighed and told myself that I had a duty to take care of my family — even if they weren’t really my family anymore.

<><><><><><> 

 

For dinner, I made the chicken parmesan I’d planned for the previous evening. Big mistake — it gave my loved ones yet another opportunity to talk about you-know-who.

“Chicken parm is Phil’s favorite,” Miriam told the girls as they dug in, while I smoothed out my frock and took my secondary spot at the table after serving everyone.

“Ooh, I like chicken parm, too — there’s another way me and Dad are alike,” Hailey said, continuing a conversation they’d had earlier about the traits they shared with their father. I had to admit: All three girls looked just like the handsome sonofabitch, and were tall like him. I’d also picked up a few other mannerisms during his visit that had reminded me of the kids — HIS kids.

“Dad says he likes history; that’s where Kait gets it from,” Jenna said.

Kaitlyn smiled. “He wants to do the genealogy website with me — his grandfather was from Australia. He said he’ll sit down with me next time he comes over and fill in some of the blanks.”

“Can Dad come over for dinner tomorrow?” Jenna stared at her mom.

Miriam shrugged. “I don’t see why not. I’d have to check with him first, to see if he’s doing anything.”

“Call him now,” Hailey implored.

“Ooh, yeah,” her twin bounced in her chair. “Call him, Ma.”

I blinked back tears as Miriam pulled out her cellphone and dialed.

Hailey tugged her mom’s sleeve. “Can I talk to him first when he answers? Please?”

Miriam beamed and handed the phone to her daughter before glancing at me. I managed a weak smile.

The more boisterous of the twins cocked her head and waited. “Hello, Dad? It’s Hailey! I’m great, thanks. We were just wondering … um, if it’s okay, and you’re not doing anything … would you come over for dinner again tomorrow?” There was a pause followed by a grin. “Awesome!” There was another break, followed by, “Okay, hang on.”

She handed the phone to Jenna. “Dad wants to talk to you.”

“Hey, Dad.” Jenna blinked. “Oh, nothing, just sitting here eating dinner. Aunt Edna made chicken parm. Mom said it’s your favorite — it’s mine, too.”

“Hey, I said it was MY favorite!” Hailey yelled.

“It’s Hailey’s favorite, too,” Jenna said, scowling at her twin. She waited for a second while her father said something, before replying, “thanks, I love you, too, Dad. Here’s Kait.”

Kaitlyn took the cellphone from her little sister. “Hey, Dad, I’m glad you’re coming over.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Hang on.” The oldest looked at me. “Dad wants to know what you’re making for dinner tomorrow.”

“I … uh, I hadn’t really thought about it, h-honey. We really don’t have much in the fridge.”

“Then go shopping,” Miriam said. “Give me the phone, honey.”

Kaitlyn handed her mother the telephone, and Miriam’s face lit up upon hearing whatever her lover said.

After a few seconds, my wife asked her boyfriend: “So, what do you want to eat tomorrow? There’s nothing in the kitchen, so Edna’s got to run out to the store anyway. He can pick up whatever you want.”

Hailey huffed. “It’s ‘she,’ Mom. Aunt Edna uses she/her pronouns.”

“Not always, she doesn’t!” Jenna snapped. “Sometimes, he uses, ‘he.’”

Miriam put her hand over the mouthpiece and hissed, “If you two don’t keep quiet, your dad won’t be coming over again — ever.”

That shut them up, and Miriam again asked her paramour what he wanted for dinner. After a few seconds of silence, she nodded. “Now, that sounds like a good idea.” She turned to the girls. “Your dad says we should give Aunt Edna a break and go out for pizza.”

The girls cheered their agreement, and Miriam relayed their response. After chatting for a few more minutes, she said, “Okay, baby, I’ll see you here tomorrow at 6. Okay. Love you, too, baby.”

She hung up and Hailey teased: “I loovvvvvvveeee youuuuuuuu, tooooooo, baaaaaabbbbyyyyy.”

Jenna repeated: “Loovvvvveee youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!”

Hailey pointed. “Ooh, look, her face is red — Mom has the hots for Dad.”

“I don’t blame you, Ma,” Jenna said. “He looks like Brad Pitt — he’s a total DILF. And he’s got a hot body, too. He must work out a lot.”

Hailey leered. “Ooh, I BET he works out!” She humped her hips back and forth in her chair.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Miriam frowned. “Yes, your father is a handsome man. Let’s just leave it at that. Don’t be inappropriate.”

Jenna looked at me. “Since you’re a woman inside, Aunt Edna, do you think our dad is handsome?”

I squirmed. “I … uh …”

Hailey smirked. “Ooh, Aunt Edna has the hots for Dad, too!”

“That’s stupid,” Kaitlyn said. “Just because he’s trans, that doesn’t mean he’s gay. Don’t you know anything?”

“I know more than you do, know-it-all.”

“Okay, you three — enough. You’re getting on my damn nerves.” Miriam turned to me. “Edna, I think I’m about ready for that rice pudding now.”

<><><><><><> 

 

I had just put on my nightgown when Miriam crooked her finger and patted the bed next to her. “Come here, honey. I want you to do something for me.”

“W-what?” I cowered. She was naked and had a sparkle in her eye, and I had no idea what she was up to.

Miriam giggled. “You look scared half to death, Edna. Jeez, relax.”

“Uh, w-what did you want me to, um … do?”

“Well, it’s been a while — but I was hoping you’d lick my pussy for me.”

I gasped. “Seriously?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, no, it’s not a problem at all. It just took me by surprise. It’s been so long.”

“I know it has. But I’m feeling horny tonight, and there’s no point in continuing to pretend I don’t enjoy sex, now that everything with Phil is out in the open.” She locked eyes with me. “Want to?”

My heart thump-thumped. “Uh, I … sure, honey. Um, thanks.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.” Miriam spread her legs and tapped her bare pussy three times. “Come and get it.”

It was a glorious journey to a place I hadn’t been to in years. When my wife had cut me off from sex after the twins were born, that meant everything, including oral both ways. I got zilch, nada, and there were so many nights when I’d lie next to my sexy spouse trembling with desire, knowing I couldn’t even think about making a move on her if I didn’t want to get bitched at for the next hour-and-a-half.  So, as I licked Miriam’s pussy for the first time in fourteen years, I felt like I was in floating on a cloud, and was flooded with gratitude for regaining a treasure I was sure I’d lost forever.

Miriam had a powerful orgasm on my tongue, and when she finally stopped bucking, I slid up the mattress and guided my dick toward her pussy.

She placed her hand on my chest. “What are you doing?”

“I … I … uh, I thought—”

Miriam closed her legs and nudged me off her. “Oh, no, Edna. There’s no way.”

“Why … why not?”

“Well for one, you’re wearing makeup, for chrissakes.” She giggled. “Although it’s all smeared from you being down there.”

“I could wash it off.” I begged her with my eyes. “Please, honey.”

She shook her head. “No way — Phil would never go for that. Just go to sleep, honey, and don’t make me sorry I let you lick me, because I WOULD like for you to keep doing that. We all have our place in this relationship. Don’t overstep. Okay, sweetie?”

I bit back my frustration and nodded.

Miriam kissed my forehead. “Goodnight, Edna. I know this has to be hard on you, but you’re being so good about everything.”

<><><><><><> 

 

I hurried home after my last patient and joined Miriam and the girls in getting ready to go out for pizza. Since Phil was scheduled to arrive at 6, it was a close call, but I managed to make it back to the house with minutes to spare.

The girls fidgeted in the living room as they waited for their biological dad, while Miriam primped in the hallway mirror. I busied myself in the kitchen wiping down the fridge where someone had spilled apple juice and had left the mess for me to deal with.

When the doorbell rang, it rattled me so badly, I dropped the jar of jelly I was holding and the glass shattered on the kitchen floor. I grabbed a broom, dustpan and paper towel and hurriedly sopped up the spill while Miriam let her manly man into our home.

By the time Phil and my wife had kissed and his daughters had all hugged him and gushed about how great it was to see him again, I had everything shipshape in the kitchen and was donning my jacket.

“So, where to?” Miriam smiled at the girls. “I know how much you guys love Papa Giovanni’s.”

Phil shook his head. “Nah, Giovanni’s is good, but I’ve got a place you guys are really gonna love: Angelo’s. Nobody’s even heard of it, but they’ve got the best pizza in town. Wait till you taste their crust.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait, Dad,” Jenna said.

“Me neither — I love good crust,” Hailey added.

As we headed toward the front door, Phil frowned at me. “Um, Edna, where are you going?”

“Um … for pizza?”

Phil grimaced. “Jeez, Edna, I didn’t think you’d be coming, so I brought the Mustang. There’s no room for you — it only seats four, and even that’s a tight squeeze.”

I was crestfallen but I swallowed my sorrow and nodded. “T-that’s cool. Um, you guys have fun.”

“Come on, Dad, let’s go — I’m starving!” Hailey whined as she tugged Phil’s sleeve.

Fighting back tears, I escorted the family out to Phil’s sportscar. He leaned into the passenger’s side and removed a large basket of laundry from the backseat, making room so the girls could pile in.

“Here, Edna, can you take this inside for me?” Phil asked. “There’s not enough room in the car.”

“Sure, I’ll just set it in the mudroom.”

Phil handed me the basket. “You know, Edna, it would really be great if you went ahead and washed these, since you’re gonna be home anyway.”

“W-what?”

“The laundry. I was hoping you could throw it in the washer for me; I’ve been busy as hell and haven’t had time to do it.”

My nostrils flared. “Are you kidding me? Do your own goddamn laundry!”

Miriam and the girls pounced.

“I can’t believe how rude you’re being.” My wife’s eyes burned. “Unbelievable. Apologize.”

From her spot in the Mustang’s backseat, Hailey crossed her arms, just like her mom did when she got mad. “Yeah, Aunt Edna, why are you being so rude to my dad? All he did was ask you to do a load of clothes. What’s the big deal?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t very nice,” the usually agreeable Kaitlyn spat.

“Apologize,” Miriam repeated. “Now.”

I hung my head. “Okay, I’m sorry; I just had a long day at the office today. Sorry I snapped.”

Phil smirked. “Well, they say doing laundry can be relaxing — so if you think about it, I’m actually doing you a favor, Edna.”

I looked at my shoes.

“Dad’s trying to be nice — he’s doing you a favor.” Hailey frowned. “Aren’t you even gonna say thanks?”

“Uh … t-thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Edna.” My wife’s lover helped her into the passenger’s-side front seat before closing the door. “You know, it would be really great if you’d go ahead and iron all those dress shirts and slacks, too — that would save me a trip to the cleaners. M’kay?”

I gritted my teeth. “S-sure.”

“Thanks, Edna.” Phil sneered. “Miriam’s right — you’re a great little helper.”

I stood on my lawn holding the basket of Phil’s dirty laundry as he hopped in the driver’s side and backed his Mustang out of my driveway. When the car disappeared down our street, I started to cry.

<><><><><><> 

 

Phil kept Miriam and the girls out until almost midnight. I waited up as long as I could before zonking out on the sofa, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster I’d been through.

I was jolted awake when everyone filed into the house jabbering about what a great time they’d had and how delicious the pizza had tasted.

“Did you guys have fun?” I asked as I sat up. But Miriam and the girls were too busy fawning over Phil to hear me.

After a few minutes of conversation, Phil patted his stomach. “Well, guys, I am STUFFED! I guess I should be headed out; I’ve got an editor meeting first thing in the morning.” He glanced at me. “Did you get my laundry done, Edna?”

“Um, yeah.” I pointed to the foyer, where the basket of neatly-folded clothes sat beneath the crisp, ironed shirts I’d put on hangers and hung on the coat rack.

Phil inspected his shirts. “Nice … nice … real nice, Edna.” When he got to the fourth shirt he grimaced. “Ugh, that one’s still a little dingy; I was hoping you’d be able to get it a little whiter. It’s my favorite shirt. Oh, well, I guess I have to just toss it out.”

Miriam frowned at me. “Didn’t you use that little stick-thingy?”

“I … I … um, no, Miriam, I didn’t.”

“Well, why not? You can see that shirt needs it — can’t you?”

“I … I don’t know why. I guess I just forgot. Sorry.”

“That’s okay, Edna.” Phil handed me the shirt. “Why not give it another go with that ‘stick-thingy,’ and I can pick it up later?”

“Aunt Edna will get it clean,” Kaitlyn predicted.

Hailey nodded. “If anyone can do it, she can. Like we were saying at the restaurant, she’s great with laundry — the whole cheerleading squad got oil on our uniforms when the season first started after stupid Mr. Sanford put them in a bin with a bunch of old, greasy rags. None of the other moms could get them clean, but Aunt Edna did. Good as new.”

Phil grinned at me. “Dang, Edna, it sounds like you’re quite the maid around here.”

I started to say something but he cut me off with a hand-wave. “I’m just messing with you, Edna. I’ve gotta split. Good luck with that shirt. See you guys later.”

Miriam leaned in for one last kiss and the girls surrounded Phil for probably their 50^th hug of the evening. When he was finally gone, Miriam yawned.

“Okay, you three — brush your teeth and get to bed,” she said. “It’s a school night and I don’t want you giving your Aunt Edna any crap when it’s time to wake up in the morning.”

Jenna nodded. “Do you think Dad can come over again tomorrow after school?”

Miriam shrugged with a motherly smile. “I don’t know, sweetie. I’ll ask him.” Her expression hardened after she turned to me. “Make sure you’ve got that shirt done by tomorrow, in case he does come over. You hear?”

“Um, yeah, I’ll use the Bleach Stick on it; that should do the trick.”

My wife scowled. “You should’ve used it in the first damn place. I was just bragging to Phil while we were at the pizza place about how good you are at doing laundry — and then we come home to … THAT. It was embarrassing, Edna.”

Kaitlyn, ever the sensitive one, came to my aid. “Well, it WAS last-minute, so maybe she didn’t have time to do Dad’s laundry the way she usually does with ours. Don’t worry, Ma — Aunt Edna will get Dad’s favorite shirt clean. Won’t you?”

I nodded, trying my best to sniffle back my tears.

 

<><><><><><> 

 

My 10am appointment was a checkup for a bratty nine-year-old who always caused problems during his visits, although I was happy to put up with the little bastard since his parents had spent a fortune on their older kids’ braces and other dental work. They still had four younger children, including the little dickhead who always gave me shit, who would eventually put tens of thousands of dollars in my pocket — or, rather, in Miriam’s pocket, since she controlled the money — so it was worth putting up with the hellion, even if he was a major pain in the ass.

I took a break after the little prick was gone. As I enjoyed a cup of coffee in my office between patients, Jill, the receptionist, poked her head in the doorway.

“Excuse me, Dr. McGraw — your broker is here. He says you’re going out for lunch? I don’t have him in your appointment book.”

I frowned. “My broker? I wasn’t scheduled to meet him.”

Jill shrugged. “You want me to send him back?”

“Sure, thanks.”

I was taking a sip of java when Jill entered my office — followed by a sneering Phil — and I spit coffee through my nose.

“Is everything okay, Dr. McGraw?”

I wiped my chin. “Yeah, sorry, Jill, something got caught in my throat. I’m fine — uh, close the door, please.”

My receptionist nodded, and with a concerned glance at my guest, she backed out of my office and shut the door.

I gripped my chair. “Um, what are you doing here?”

“Relax, Edna, I’m not gonna blow your cover.” He took a seat, leaned back and propped his feet on my desk. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“What do you want?”

“We need to talk. Tell your girl you’re taking lunch.”

“I can’t — I’ve got patients.”

“Cancel them.”

I huffed. “What the hell, Phil. You can’t just come barging in here without notice expecting me to change my schedule.”

Phil shrugged. “Fine. I’ll leave — and tell Miriam you kicked me out of your office. I’m sure she’ll love that.”

My shoulders slumped. “Why are you doing this? What do you WANT?”

“I told you — we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Hold your horses, Edna.” Phil removed his feet from my desk and rose to his full, imposing height. “I’ll tell you when we get there. Now, tell your girl you need to clear your schedule for an hour or so because there’s an emergency with your stock portfolio — and let’s go.”

<><><><><><> 

 

I was under the impression that we were going out to eat, so I was surprised when Phil navigated his Mustang to a spot behind an empty warehouse near the waterfront. I got it in my head that he was taking me there to kill me, but I brushed those concerns aside and wondered what my wife’s lover REALLY wanted. Then, I started second-guessing myself. WAS he going to kill me? I didn’t think so, but honestly had no idea.

It didn’t take long to find out.

Phil parked and turned in his seat so he faced me. “So, Edna … Miriam tells me you made a move on her the other night.”

“Wha-what?”

“The other night. She says she let you lick her pussy — and then you tried to fuck her?”

The blood rushed to my gills, and I was so pissed off I wanted to punch the sonofabitch — but then I remembered that he’d been a world-class boxer and outweighed me by probably a hundred pounds, so I quickly put that notion out of my mind.

Instead, I merely peeped, “Um … yeah. But that’s … that’s our private business.”

“No, Edna, it’s MY fucking business.” The ex-light-heavyweight stared a hole into my soul. “I don’t know what it’s gonna take for you to figure this out, but Miriam is MY woman, Edna. I don’t mind if she lets you lick her pussy if that’s what she wants — but you don’t touch her otherwise. You hear me?”

I hung my head. “Miriam’s already made that decision, anyway. She says she doesn’t want me doing anything else.”

“Well, that’s great, but I want to make sure.” Phil handed me a box.

“Um, what’s this?”

“My insurance policy. Open it.”

I fumbled with the top and pulled out a contraption I’d seen many times while jerking off online, but never thought I’d actually be holding in my hand — a chastity device.

Phil chuckled at my surprised gasp. “Remember, Edna — Miriam told me EVERYTHING after she found out what you were doing on the internet. So, I know all about your sick little fantasies about being a sissy maid.”

Tears formed in my eyes. “What … what do you want from me?”

“Well, for starters, I want you to put that on like I told you.” He nodded at the cock cage.

“You mean … right here?”

“No, dumbass, in Alaska. Yes, here. Nobody’s watching except me, and I’ve seen little dicks before. Go ahead.”

“Come on, man.” I cleared my throat. “This is going too far—”

“Too far? You’re the one who opened the door to all this, Edna. Did you post all that shit online about wanting to be a sissy slave, or didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s just fantasy. I … I ...”

“It’s not just fantasy, Edna.” Phil scoffed. “Look in the mirror — you’re a born sissy. Didn’t your dad tell you that all the time growing up?”

I clenched my fists. “What the fuck, is there anything Miriam didn’t blab to you?”

“Don’t be bad-mouthing Miriam, you little pansy sonofabitch. You’ve put her through hell with your crossdressing bullshit. Don’t you know how upset she was when she saw those websites?”

“Bullshit! She was cheating with you BEFORE she found that stuff — so don’t go trying to make this MY fault, motherfucker.” As soon as my diatribe had spilled from my mouth, I regretted it.

Phil reached across the seat and pinched my earlobe.

“Ow, ow, ow, please, ow, I’m sorry, ow,” I bleated.

My wife’s lover released my ear and cuffed me upside the head. “Don’t be manning up on me, bitch. We both know who you really are. Don’t we?”

With tears burning my cheeks, I nodded.

“You’re a born sissy, aren’t you, bitch? Say it.”

“Um, uh … y-yeah.”

“SAY IT, GODDAMN IT!!!!”

“I … I’m a … born sissy.”

“Goddamn right. Now, put that damn cage on — and don’t give me any more shit, bitch.”

With trembling fingers, I unbuttoned my pants and wiggled them down along with my tightie-whities.

Phil frowned. “Why aren’t you wearing panties?”

“I, uh, I only dress at home.”

“Well, from now on, I want you wearing panties at all times. Understand?”

“Uh, y-yeah.”

“Say, ‘yes, sir.’”

“Um … y-yes, sir.” I closed my eyes and tried to do math equations in my head — because to my horror, my dick was starting to swell, thanks to Phil’s dominance.

He noticed. “Uh, oh, that little thing looks like it means business.” He chuckled. “You better lose that boner, Edna, or we’ll never get it in the cage.”

I couldn’t look him in the eye. When by hard-on wouldn’t subside, Phil grabbed a magazine from the backseat, rolled it up and — to my shock — started slapping my dick with it. The rapid-fire wallops hurt like a motherfucker.

Phil chortled. “That made the little guy go back down.” He used the magazine to point at the chastity cage. “Now, put that on, Edna, like I told you five times.”

After bungling with the device, I managed to tuck my dick into the sleeve and work the ring around my balls. Phil leaned over and clicked the lock shut before showing me the key.

“I’ll be holding onto this,” he said. “Now, what do you say, Edna?”

“Um, y-yes, sir.”

“Thank me.”

“T-thank you sir.”

Without another word my way, Phil flipped on the radio and sang along as he drove me back to the office. Although he had the speakers blasting, all I heard was buzzing in my head.

<><><><><><> 

 

I was on my knees scrubbing the kitchen floor when Miriam walked into the room holding her cellphone. She took a few steps before stopping.

“Oh, sorry about your floor, Edna. Listen, Phil just called — we thought it would be nice if he came over tomorrow for New Year’s Eve. So, make sure there’s plenty of Michelob in the fridge, and get a couple bottles of my wine, too. I’m not sure about dinner, though; what do you think?”

From my position on my knees, I looked up at my wife and shrugged, causing my housedress to slip off my shoulder. “Um, I don’t know. Maybe stir fry?”

She waved her hand. “No, Phil hates that. Why don’t you make that moussaka you always make for our anniversaries? That’s my favorite, and Phil likes it, too.”

“Ugh, really, honey? That recipe takes so long — everything’s from scratch.”

“Yes, really honey.” Miriam folded her arms and glanced around to ensure her daughters weren’t nearby. “Phil said you were going to start taking things to a new level, Edna. He says this is what you really need, which is why you’re always on those damn websites. So, if I want moussaka, I don’t want any damned backtalk — unless you want me to call him. He says the better you behave, the quicker he’ll let you out of that cage thing. I can call him right now if you want and tell him you’re whining about the menu I picked out.”

My blood ran cold. “No, no, I’m sorry, I’ll go shopping.”

Miriam smirked. “Good. You’re starting to get it, Edna. This is going to be great. Phil was right — it was meant to be.”

I couldn’t summon the courage to ask her to clarify what she was talking about, but the glint in her eye scared the living shit out of me.

<><><><><><> 

 

Phil’s shirt was finally dry, so while the lamb was baking in preparation for the New Year’s Eve dinner, I ducked down to the basement to inspect my handiwork. The shirt was as white as it had ever been — but I’d worked the Bleach Stick so thoroughly, I’d rubbed the material down to the threads in one spot near the bottom hem. Otherwise, the shirt looked great, and I prayed Phil wouldn’t think the raw spot was such a big deal, since the marred area would be tucked into his pants anyway.

I was wrong. Oh, how wrong I was.

As I prepared the difficult moussaka dish, I had plenty of time to worry — and there was plenty to worry about. I struggled with whether to tell Miriam that I’d messed up her boyfriend’s shirt, but in the end I decided to just let Phil see it on the off-chance that he wouldn’t care — because I knew damn well my wife would hit the roof.

I also was petrified at what Miriam had been talking about — “It was meant to be.”

WHAT was meant to be?

With gritted teeth, I tried to concentrate on getting ready for the New Year’s Eve dinner. This time, I made sure to put a folding chair at the end of the table where Kaitlyn usually sat, so I wouldn’t wind up in that humiliating beanbag again. At age sixteen, Kait was already taller than me — taking after her real dad — and I figured the lower chair level wouldn’t make much of a difference.

I turned out to be wrong about that, too.

By the time we rang in the New Year, I learned that I’d been wrong about a lot of things.

<><><><><><> 

 

The guest of honor arrived bearing gifts. He presented each of his daughters with personalized gold lockets that were inscribed on the back with “Better late than never — Love You Forever, Dad,” while Miriam got a set of diamond earrings — “to ring in the New Year in stereo,” the smooth-talking Casanova told my enraptured wife.

Phil saved my ‘gift’ for last.

“I left it out in the car,” he explained, handing me his keys. “It’s in a plastic storage container in the backseat. Go grab it, Edna — but you have to promise: No peeking.”

“Uh, okay,” I intoned as I headed to the front door. I checked to see that no neighbors were nearby, lest I be seen in drag, and darted out to Phil’s car to retrieve the storage bin, dreading what might be inside, and strongly suspecting that it couldn’t possibly be anything good.

I was right.

When I lumbered back into the house, Phil was relaxed on the couch next to Miriam. Kaitlyn occupied the easy chair while the twins were sprawled out on the carpet.

Phil nodded at the container in my arms. “Go ahead and see what’s in there, Edna — I put everything together just for you.”

I set down the bin and lifted the lid. It was full of old, dirty shoes.

Miriam and the twins giggled at Phil’s ‘joke’ while I fumed. Kaitlyn didn’t laugh, though; it almost seemed like she felt sorry for me.

Phil smirked. “You did such a good job on my clothes, I thought I’d let you have a crack at those. Some of ‘em are pretty grungy, especially those old Reeboks. But see what you can do with ‘em. Work your magic, m’kay?”

I gritted my teeth. “Yeah, okay.”

“Aunt Edna will get ‘em clean,” Jenna said with a smile my way.

“I bet.” Phil nodded. “She seems to be a real whiz in the laundry room. So, how’d my shirt come out, Edna?”

My heart caught in my throat. “Uh, hang, on, I’ll go get it.”

I was scared to death he’d be unhappy with the results of my meticulous work and when I returned from the basement carrying the shirt, I presented the garment with a trembling hand. “Um, that Bleach Stick did the trick,” I said. “Nice and white.”

Phil frowned and pointed to the frayed patch near the hem. “What the hell’s that?”

“Oh, that’s just a spot where the material wore through a little.” I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could, although my churning guts were anything but blasé. “I didn’t think it was such a big deal since that’s the part you tuck in anyway.”

Phil turned to my wife. “Edna doesn’t think it’s such a big deal. Imagine that.”

Miram scowled at me. “What do you mean it’s not a big deal? You ruin his favorite shirt and have the audacity to tell him it’s not a big deal?”

“I … I … I don’t think the whole shirt is ruined.” I pointed to the rough spot. “Like I said, um, this part would be tucked in anyway.”

“No, Edna, I like wearing that shirt untucked — and now it’s ruined.” Phil stared me down. “I’m not happy about this, Edna. I’m not happy at all.”

“Neither am I,” Miriam spat.

“Jeez, Aunt Edna, what’s wrong with you?” Hailey bared her teeth.

“Can’t you do anything right?” Jenna piled on.

Kaitlyn, who as usual had been silent until then, took my side. “Come on, guys, I’m sure Aunt Edna didn’t mean to mess up Dad’s shirt. I saw her — she was working hard on it all night.” She turned to Phil. “She makes a lot of money as a dentist; maybe she could just buy you a new one.”

“Well, that’s not the point, honey,” Phil said. “You can’t just replace a favorite shirt. You know?”

“I guess so.” Kaitlyn shrugged. Always a sweetheart, she added, “But poor Aunt Edna looks like she’s gonna cry.”

“Well, we don’t want that, do we?” Phil stared me in the eyes. “So, how do you propose we fix this and make it right?”

“I … I could just buy you a new shirt, like Kait said.”

“Yeah, but like I just told her — that wouldn’t be my favorite shirt. You know?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Maybe you could work it off,” Phil said.

“W-work it off?”

“Yeah. You know, if I needed something done, you could do it … you know, to repay me for the shirt.”

I blinked. “Um, how would that be any different from me just giving you money?”

“I don’t know, Edna — it just would. It would be different for me. That shirt had sentimental value. My uncle gave it to me before he died and I’d feel kind of funny reducing it to a dollar figure. You know? Something about that just doesn’t seem right. But if you were to work it off … I don’t know, I would just feel better about it.”

Phil again caught my eye and I could tell he wanted me to agree — and I knew if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be getting out of my cursed chastity device anytime soon, since he was the sole keyholder.

“Come on, Edna,” he cajoled. “What do you say?”

“Um … okay, s-sure.”

He leaned back on the couch with a shit-eating grin and pulled Miriam close. “Great. I’m thinking a couple days of maid service should put us about even.”

My stomach knotted up when he used the ‘M’ word. I realized he was purposely pushing my buttons, since he knew full well about my sissy maid fantasies, thanks to my wife blabbing to him years earlier after discovering the websites I’d visited. But that was fantasy — I was finding out that it wasn’t much fun in real life to be constantly put down, even if parts of it that didn’t involve the kids WERE starting to turn me on, despite my disgust at myself for getting excited by such debasement.

After several minutes of me standing there with what must’ve been a stupid look on my face, Phil broke the silence: “Earth to Edna? Hello? What do you think? We’ll say three days of maid service and call it even. Sound fair to you?”

“Um … I … I … sure, I guess.”

Hailey giggled. “So, now Aunt Edna has to do whatever you say for three days?”

“Not just me, honey — Edna’s everyone’s maid. But first, we need to lay down some rules.”

<><><><><><> 

 

I shifted from foot to foot and coughed into my fist.

“Um … rules?” I gulped. “W-what, um, rules?”

“Weeellll,” Phil drawled. “You see, there’s certain things maids have to do. You know what I’m talking about, Edna; there’s certain protocols to follow. There’s—”

The oven buzzer cut him off. I turned to Miriam. “Um, excuse me, please — if I don’t get that out right now it’ll be ruined.”

She nodded and told her lover, “He needs to take that out of the oven.”

Phil shooed me away. “Go, go.”

After dashing to the kitchen, I opened the oven and felt a surge of pride when I saw how perfectly the moussaka had turned out — and then that good feeling instantly evaporated when I remembered the circumstances of this special dinner. Whereas the Greek delicacy had always been our anniversary dish, on this occasion Miriam had told me to make it for … him.

Him. The sonofabitch who was in the next room enchanting my wife and the girls with story after story; joke after joke.

Him. The rugged, worldly hunk who had everything on me other than money.

Him. The dirty bastard who’d been fucking my wife behind my back for fourteen years while I’d been under the impression that she couldn’t have sex because of physical issues.

Him. The master manipulator who had wormed his way into my family and usurped me.

Him. The piece of shit who had showed up at my job and forced me into a chastity device that was driving me fucking insane.

Him. The man who seemed determined to use his knowledge of my fantasies against me to push me into a subservient role in my own home.

It was beyond traumatic for my lifelong fantasy to come true, only to have Phil take it to an unexpected, hellish twist like the ending of a horror movie. I’d fantasized about serving my wife, not my family — and certainly not THAT smug asshole. It didn’t matter to Phil; he seemed to relish the fact that I hated my situation but felt compelled to stay because I loved Miriam and the girls too much to leave. It amused him to no end that he had them all eating out of his hand while I was desperately trying to please them and cling to some tiny place in their lives.

In short, the man was a sadist. He not only enjoyed hurting me — he wanted my family to hurt me. And, thanks to that accursed cage, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Both of us knew it. So did Miriam, who was merrily going along with this insanity. So were my daughters — sorry; Phil’s daughters. Kaitlyn was the only one who was showing any hesitation at all, and even she was caught up in her dad’s spell and thought my humiliation was funny, although at least she also expressed sympathy once in a while. It was a tiny ray of sunshine in a world of blackness.

<><><><><><> 

 

Gloom hung on me like a horse blanket as I set the table and called everyone to dinner, wondering what rules Phil was about to impose on me.

I found out one of them right quick.

After I brought out the moussaka and side dishes, I went to sit down in the chair I’d assigned for myself.

Phil held up his hand. “Whoa, there, Edna — that’s Rule No. 1: Maids don’t sit at the table.”

I gulped. “Wha-what do you want me to do? Stand here?”

“Well, yeah, stupid — isn’t that what maids do?”

The twins tittered, Miriam held her hand over her mouth to hide her snigger, while Kaitlyn seemed amused while at the same time feeling embarrassed for me.

Phil continued: “A proper maid should serve everyone’s dishes. So, Edna, go around the table and serve everyone some of this fine moussaka you made.”

When I moved to obey, he added, “Maids say, ‘yes, sir,’ and ‘yes, ma’am or miss,’ when responding. Understand Edna?”

I closed my eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“And a proper maid curtseys when given an order.”

With my face burning red, I executed a curtsey, which got a giggle out of the girls, including Miriam.

“That’s the spirit!” Phil clapped twice. “Go ahead, Edna — you may serve the meal. Ladies first, of course.”

“Yes, sir.” I curtseyed again. Feeling like an absolute fool, I lifted the moussaka platter and spatula before moving toward Miriam’s spot at the table.

“Um, should I start putting it on your plate … um, Ma’am?”

Miriam snorted. “No, Edna, I want you to go put it in the middle of Elm Street.”

Everyone cracked up as I served her portion. My wife nodded her approval and I moved to Jenna, who looked up at me with a smirk.

“Dad says you have to do everything I say now,” she said.

“Um, uh, yes, Miss. Um, would you like some moussaka, Miss?”

Emulating her mom, she threw out a quip: “No, dummy, I want dogfood. If you made moussaka for dinner, then yeah, that’s what I want. Duh.”

When Jenna was satisfied I turned to Hailey. “Um, Miss?”

“Yeah, go ahead — make mine a big piece, I’m hungry,” she said. When I set the helping onto her plate, she sniffed. “I said a big piece — give me more. What are you, stupid?”

“S-sorry,” I said as I added extra to her plate.

When I got to Kaitlyn, she smiled at me. “Thanks, Aunt Edna, I’ll just have a small piece.”

As I set the requested portion onto her plate, Phil frowned. “Kaitlyn, why are you sitting in that metal folding chair?”

Kait shrugged. “I dunno. It was at here my place, so I just sat in it.”

All eyes glanced toward my empty spot at the table, where one of the padded, expensive dining room chairs was parked.

Phil sat back in his chair and stared a hole through me. “So, you mean to tell me you planned on sitting in that good chair and giving my daughter the crappy folding chair?”

“Uh, I … I just figured … uh, she’s taller than I am, and, um—”

“Well, I think it’s rude.” Phil scoffed. “Unbelievably rude, in fact.”

Kaitlyn squirmed. “It’s okay, Dad. I am taller — if Aunt Edna sat in this chair, the table would probably come up to her chin.”

Phil leaned over and stroked his daughter’s hair. “I know you love your Aunt Edna, honey. But if she’s going to be a good maid, she can’t be thinking of herself as better than you. She has to stay in her place for everything to work. Do you understand, sweetie?”

Kaitlyn scrunched up her face. “Why does Aunt Edna even have to be a maid, anyway? Because she messed up your shirt? Can’t she work it off some other way?”

Phil sat up straight in his chair. “Okay, guys, here’s the deal: Your Aunt Edna has always wanted to be a maid. Not only is she trans, but she’s the kind of trans who enjoys serving others. I know it might sound strange, but there are people like that, and your Aunt Edna here is one of them.”

I felt like I was going to pass out as blood rushed to my head and a high-pitched noise bombarded my inner ears. Glancing at Miriam gave me no solace — she had a satisfied look on her face, as if outing me like this had been planned all along.

In that moment, it dawned on me what she’d been talking about the previous day when she’d said, “Phil was right. It was meant to be.”

Miriam wiped her mouth with her napkin, and then removed any doubt that this situation had been orchestrated. “Girls, your father and I have known this about Edna for a long time. We didn’t want to tell you right away, because you’ve been through so much change already — but, yes, Edna is the type of trans who gets satisfaction out of serving others, and being a maid. So, your father and me talked about it, and we felt the best way we could make everything work is if Aunt Edna was to take on the role she’s always wanted, and that would maybe allow your father to move in here someday without things being too awkward.”

Hailey couldn’t hold down her grin. “OMG, Dad, you’re moving in?”

Miriam held up her hand. “Maybe. We’re talking about it, honey. We don’t want to move too fast.”

Move too fast?!! When she said that, I wanted to SCREAM. In the previous two weeks, I’d been outed as a sissy to my daughters before finding out my daughters weren’t my daughters; I’d stood on the sidelines and watched as they bonded with their real father — and now the rotten motherfucker and my wife were further exposing me by telling them about my maid fantasies, although at least they’d done so in a way that hadn’t been inappropriate for minors. They’d clearly thought this out.

Phil snapped me out of my daydream by snapping his fingers. “Enough talk — I want to eat. Maid, go stand in the corner over there and keep your trap shut. If anyone needs anything, they’ll tell you. Otherwise, stand there. During dessert, we’ll go over the rules. What do you say?”

I curtseyed. “Y-yes, sir.”

With my tail between my legs, I retreated to the corner, where I bit my lip and did my best to keep from crying while watching everyone enjoy the meal I’d slaved over for hours.

My stomach grumbled. My heart broke. But I never shed a tear.

<><><><><><> 

 

 

My cheesecake was a hit. So were the three new “Maid’s Rules” that would govern my life for the foreseeable future — everyone thought it was just peachy that they now had a servant who couldn’t say no.

After ordering me to fetch a pad and pen so I could jot down the new guidelines, Phil began laying them out with his mouth full of cheesecake:

“I know I said Rule No. 1 was that maids don’t sit at the table, but that wasn’t an official rule — it’s just assumed, like saying ‘yes, sir,’ and ‘yes, ma’am,’ and curtseying. That’s just everyday maid stuff, you know?”

I curtseyed. “Yes, sir.”

“The real Rule No. 1 is: The word ‘no’ doesn’t exist in a maid’s vocabulary. Unless there’s an emergency, when someone tells you to do something, you curtsey and go do it. Understand?”

I curtseyed. “Yes, sir.”

Hailey grinned at her father. “Wow, you mean she has to do whatever we tell her to do, no matter what?”

“Yes, sweetie, maids don’t get to say no; Edna’s sole purpose in life now is to do whatever we tell her to do, as fast as those little legs can carry her.”

“Like a robot? Or a slave?” Jenna smirked and nudged her twin with her elbow. “Ooh, we got us a SLAVE!”

“Don’t get cute, you two,” Miriam warned. “I don’t want you making Edna do a bunch of stupid stuff just because you can. She’s got work to do — and you don’t need to be doing that crap, anyway. Act like you’ve got some damn sense once in a while, would you?”

Hailey and Jenna bowed their heads but the instant their mom looked away they leered at me, making my blood run cold wondering what they might do to me when Miriam wasn’t around. For an instant, I thought to myself, ‘Kaitlyn won’t let them go overboard with me’ — and then I felt like the most pathetic loser on earth for hoping that a sixteen-year-old girl might save me from her mean little sisters.

Phil set down his fork. “Okay. Rule No. 2: Maids don’t speak unless spoken to. You keep your mouth shut unless you’re responding to an order, or acknowledging something you’ve been told.” He looked at me for a second before raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, sorry, sir — yes, sir.” I curtseyed. The twins giggled. Miriam shook her head with an amused smirk.

Kaitlyn huffed. “This seems so mean — look at poor Aunt Edna’s face. I’ve never seen her so sad.”

Phil’s lips formed a grave smile. “Honey, I know you don’t understand this yet, and I know the way it looks to you on the surface, it must seem really mean. But, you’ve got to realize that we’re just giving your Aunt Edna exactly what she’s wanted her whole life.” He looked me in the eye. “Tell her, Edna.”

With my heart pounding, I curtseyed. “Y-yes, sir. Um … I … I …” My throat muscles were constricting, and I had to swallow a few times to continue. “Um, your father is right, Miss. I … I’ve wanted to be a maid my whole life, and … and it might seem like he’s being mean to me, but he … he knows what I need. Your father … uh, knows what’s best.”

The instant the words were out of my mouth they tasted like shit on my lips. I closed my eyes and wished for a bolt of lightning to slash through the roof and put me out of my misery.

I peeled my lids open. The room came back into focus. I was still there. Alive. In hell.

Kaitlyn shrugged. “Okay, then, Aunt Edna. If you want to be treated like this, then I’m glad you’re getting what you want.”

I curtseyed. “T-thank you, Miss.”

Miriam pointed her fork at the twins. “None of this leaves the house, just like Edna being trans. She could lose her dental practice if this ever gets out, and we’d all be screwed.” She grimaced at Jenna. “And I know Taylor’s your ‘bestie’ and all, but keep your mouth shut about Edna being our maid.”

“Why, Ma? She already knows about her being trans, and she’s not gonna say anything — she PINKY-PROMISED! And she’s been coming over and seeing Aunt Edna dressed already, anyway; I can’t ask her to suddenly stop coming over now.”

Miriam sighed. “Oh, all right, as long as you’re sure she can keep her mouth shut.”

“She will, Ma — she PINKY-PROMISED.”

Phil chuckled. “Well, as long as she pinky-promised, then it should be okay.” His expression hardened when he faced me. “Alrighty, then — Rule No. 3. This is the last one for now, although you can be sure more rules will get added in the future as we go. So, Rule No. 3 covers the demerit and reward system we’ll be operating under; I call them ‘Skid Marks’ and ‘Brownie Points.’ You get Skid Marks when you screw something up, or piss someone off; the number of Skid Marks you get depends on what you do. If it’s minor, you might get just one Skid Mark. If you screw up bad, you’ll get as many as you need. On the other side of the coin, if you do something really well, or go the extra mile, you can earn Brownie Points. If you get three Brownie Points, it’ll take away a Skid Mark. Are you following along, Edna? Are you writing it all down?”

I curtseyed as I scribbled. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. So, every Sunday after dinner, we’re going to count how many Skid Marks you earned that week. If you get ten or more, you’ll be punished. The official Rule No. 3 is: Maids get punished when they screw up.”

Hailey squealed. “Ooh, Dad, we get to punish her?”

Miriam replied with a scowl. “No, brat, you don’t get to punish her — only your father and me can do that.”

“How are you gonna punish her, Dad?” Jenna searched Phil’s face.

“Well, honey, I’ve always found that a good, old-fashioned paddle does the trick.” He smirked. “I’ve still got my old frat paddle — I’m thinking that should do the job just fine.”

Kaitlyn tilted her head and stared at me. “And you’re sure this is what you want, Aunt Edna?”

I curtseyed. “Um, y-yes, Miss,” I lied.

“Girls, I don’t think you should refer to her as your Aunt Edna anymore, now that she’s the maid,” Phil said. “It just doesn’t seem appropriate — she’s not a family member; she’s just the maid. I guess we can just call her ‘Edna’ … or ‘Maid.’”

“Okay, then.” Hailey giggled and snapped her fingers. “Put more chocolate syrup on my cheesecake — Maid!”

With a hole burning my soul, I curtsied and fetched the bowl.

Phil was on a roll.

<><><><><><> 

 

The family gathered around the television set. Phil and Miriam hoisted flutes of champagne while the girls held their glasses of grape juice aloft as the man in the tux on the TV counted out the old year while the family chanted along:

“Five … four … three … two …”

The picture went black. I realized with horror that I’d accidentally switched off the television by hitting the remote’s power button while cleaning the coffee table.

Everyone scowled my way and I literally pissed my panties — just a squirt, followed by a shiver through my entire body.

Phil shook his head. “You have GOT to be kidding me.”

Miriam snarled. “Unbelievable.”

Hailey scoffed. “That should be ten Skid Marks right there.”

“It should,” her twin agreed.

Phil sniffed and looked me up and down. “Damn, Edna, your career isn’t exactly getting off to a great start, is it? Ten Skid Marks your first night on the job.”

“Ooh, that means she’s gonna be punished,” Hailey squealed.

“No, not necessarily.” Kaitlyn offered me a sympathetic smile. “She could always earn Brownie Points and take away some of those Skid Marks.”

“That’s true, honey.” Phil shot me the smuggest look imaginable. “So, then, Edna — I guess that means you’d better kiss some MAJOR butt for the next few days, and see how many Brownie Points you can earn for yourself by Sunday dinner.”

<><><><><><> 

 

I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the upstairs bathroom floor when the two syllables I’d grown to despise rang out for what seemed like the zillionth time that day, like nails on a fucking chalkboard:

“ED—NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

With a sigh, I dropped the brush in the bucket for what seemed like the zillionth time that day, wiped my hands on my new apron and scurried as quickly as I could down the stairway toward the sound of Hailey’s petulant voice.

When I got to the living room, I curtseyed. “You called, Miss?”

Hailey snapped her fingers and pointed to the other end of the couch, maybe two feet away. “Yeah, hand me my laptop, Maid.”

Miriam, who happened to be walking by, stopped and frowned at her daughter. “You called Edna all the way down here for that? Damnit, Hales, I told you to quit bothering her for stupid stuff — she’s got work to do. Get your own computer, and stop being so damn lazy.”

“Sorry, Ma.”

In response, Miriam smacked her lips and marched up the stairs.

Kaitlyn waited until her mom was out of earshot and stared darts at Hailey. “Didn’t I tell you she was gonna get mad? Leave poor Edna alone.”

“Poor Edna? What’s the point in even having a maid if we can’t tell her what to do?” Hailey glared at me and snapped her fingers again. “Now, then — hand me that laptop. Maid.”

I tugged at the hem of the uniform that had arrived in the mail earlier that day and curtseyed. “Um, please, Miss, your mother told you to get it. Please … I … I don’t want to disobey her order, Miss — please.”

Hailey’s stare burned fire and she snapped her fingers harder. “I said hand me that LAPTOP.”

With tears forming in my eyes, I curtseyed again. “Miss … PLEASE! I can’t go against what your mother said.”

“So, you want to go against what I say instead? Fine. I’m texting my dad right now and telling him to add five Skid Marks.”

With a defeated sigh, I curtseyed and handed Hailey her computer. She snatched it from me, typed something into her phone, and pushed ‘send’ with a flourish.

“I told my dad to add five Skid Marks anyway,” she announced. “Next time, you’ll do what I say, Maid.”

Kaitlyn smacked her sister in the arm. “What’s wrong with you? You can’t just give her Skid Marks any time you want like that!”

“Why can’t I?”

“Because you can’t.”

“Who says? Yes, I can.”

“Fine. Then I’m texting Dad and giving Edna 15 extra Brownie Points. That’ll wipe out your stupid Skid Marks.”

“You can’t just give Brownie Points for no reason,” Hailey spat. “There’s got to be a reason.”

“Fine, Edna didn’t want go against what Mom wanted — I say that’s worth 15 Brownie Points.” Kaitlyn fumbled with her own phone before pushing the send button.

Hailey scoffed. “You think that’s gonna stop me?” She looked me in the eye and smirked. “There’s always more Skid Marks where those came from.”

<><><><><><> 

 

The uniforms and heels I was required to wear as part of my new household position had arrived in time for the family to enjoy their first formal dinner service Saturday night. After the package came in the early-morning mail, I donned a ‘utility outfit,’ similar to those wore by motel maids, to do my usual Saturday cleaning, and then washed up and changed into one of the fancier uniforms to serve supper. The shoes were beyond uncomfortable, but Phil had insisted on four-inch heels whether I was cleaning or serving, because he said, “A maid in heels lends an air of class to the joint.” The fact that wearing those cursed things all day was agony on my poor feet apparently wasn’t a consideration.

Phil had planned to come for dinner although he cancelled due to a crisis at the print shop. Miriam and the girls were disappointed, but it was perfectly fine with me. Still, Phil’s presence hung over the dinner table like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade float.

After I’d served the pork loin I stood in my assigned mealtime spot near the wall, eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Your father tells me you three keep texting him every five minutes giving Edna a bunch of Skid Marks and Brownie Points.” Miram sipped her seltzer water. “What the hell’s going on?”

Kaitlyn pointed at the twins. “These two keep giving Edna Skid Marks for every little thing, just so she’ll get punished. It’s no fair, so I give her Brownie Points to take the Skid Marks away.”

Hailey threw up her hands. “I keep telling her: Dad said you gotta have a reason to give Brownie Points — you can’t just give them to her to erase the Skid Marks. I had good reasons to give them.”

“Yeah, you told her to go against what Mom said,” Kaitlyn shot back.

Miriam frowned at Hailey. “What did you tell her to do?”

Kaitlyn answered for her: “She told her to get her laptop off the couch after you told her to get it herself.”

“And you gave Edna five Skid Marks because she wouldn’t hand it to you?” Miriam asked Hailey.

Kaitlyn shook her head and again answered for her sister: “No, she bullied poor Edna into giving it to her — and then she texted dad to add five Skid Marks anyway because Edna said at first that she didn’t want to go against you.”

Miriam stared at me like I was a bug. “So, you went behind my back and gave Hailey that damned laptop when you heard me tell her to get it herself?”

Tears filled my eyes. “Ma’am … please, I … I …”

Kaitlyn smacked her lips, just like her mom always did. “Come on, Ma — Hailey was bullying her! It’s no fair for Edna to get in trouble; she tried to tell Hailey you wanted her to get her own laptop — that’s why she told Dad to give him five Skid Marks: Because Edna didn’t want to do it at first, and begged her not to make her do it.”

Miriam blew out a lungful of annoyed air. “All right, all right, you’re making my head hurt. Edna, I’ll let you slide — and you three need to stop bothering your dad every five minutes. From now on, if you want to give the maid Skid Marks or Brownie Points, come tell me. And, damn it, Hailey, leave Edna alone when she’s trying to get her housework done. You hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean it.” Miriam picked up her fork and continued eating.

Hailey fumed for several minutes before scowling at me and pointing at her glass. “More juice, Maid.”

<><><><><><> 

 

According to the math in my head, I’d accumulated 12 Skid Marks by the time Sunday dinner approached, despite my backbreaking efforts to earn Brownie Points.

Miriam had negated the Skid Marks and Brownie Points the girls had given me during their sisterly duel, but I was still over the line. In addition to the 10 Skid Marks that I’d gotten for accidentally shutting off the TV seconds before the New Year rang in, Miriam gave me two demerits for forgetting to gas up her car, while approving Jenna’s request that two Skid Marks be added after I’d stumbled over her sneaker while serving her a glass of juice and spilling some in her lap.

My score would’ve been worse if not for the six Brownie Points Kaitlyn had awarded me after I’d ironed her entire wardrobe. She’d requested 12 points but her mother would only approve six, telling her daughter she didn’t want to “go overboard” and spoil me. I’d also ironed all the twins’ clothes in a desperate attempt to shave off a few Skid Marks and avoid punishment, although they didn’t deem it worthy of any Brownie Points. When Kaitlyn asked why, Jenna shrugged and said, “isn’t ironing what maids are supposed to do anyway? Why should Edna get extra credit for stuff she’s supposed to do in the first place?”

I wasn’t allowed to ask for Brownie Points; Phil’s rule was, if I wanted extra credit I would have to bust my ass by going above and beyond — and pray someone noticed.

Unfortunately, Miriam overlooked my attempt to secure a few Brownie Points from her by polishing her entire shoe collection. I was sitting on the mudroom floor buffing a pair of her boots when she appeared in the doorway and looked at all the footwear that was spread out on the floor.

I thought she was going to compliment me, but instead she frowned and said, “Put some newspapers down, Edna, so you don’t get shoe polish all over the damn floor.”

As she strolled away, she added over her shoulder, “Go wash your hands and make me a cup of tea first.”

<><><><><><> 

 

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking and I had to set down the platter of beef Wellington to avoid dropping it. Phil’s booming voice carried into the kitchen from the dining room, and it was clear he was in a good mood.

That made one of us.

After a few minutes of working through the calming breathing exercises I was becoming all too familiar with, I’d settled down enough to wipe my sweaty hands on my apron, crack my neck and troop into the dining room carrying the main course I’d prepared.

Phil clapped when I set the platter down. “Mm-MM! That looks good, Edna. And so does that new uniform. You look classy, Edna.”

I curtseyed. “Thank you, sir.”

He nodded. “Go ahead and serve.”

I made my way around the table doling out portions of my masterpiece. By then, maid service had become old hat to the family, and I was ignored while everyone continued their breezy conversation. They were clearly oblivious to the terror that churned my insides as I contemplated my upcoming post-meal ass-whipping. Phil had brought his fraternity paddle, which he leaned against the entertainment center — the most conspicuous spot in the living room — where I couldn’t ignore it. I was certain that wasn’t an accident.

When I was done serving the first course, I curtseyed to the family and took my place by the wall. I’d been on those hellish heels all day and my feet were absolutely throbbing. Pangs of jealousy punched me in the gut as I saw how nice and comfortable everyone seemed relaxing, chatting and enjoying the meal I’d slaved over for hours while I had to stand at attention like some brainless statue, completely ignored until someone wanted something. Since I was trying to make the best of things, I told myself that being ignored was a whole lot better than the alternative.

I had time to think as I stood there, and my mind rewound to my earliest days of dressing up. In school I was always first to class and last to leave, and when I was alone one day in my fifth-grade history classroom I found a pair of torn nylons in the wastebasket by Mrs. Chance’s desk. I stuffed them in my pocket and took my prize home, hiding the pantyhose under my comic books. For the entirety of my childhood, every chance I got, I would put them on and masturbate, fantasizing about being dressed in the hose while doing a cruel queen’s housework. I took Mrs. Chance’s sacred nylons with me to college, but unfortunately they were stolen along with my comic collection when someone sneaked into my dorm room and made off with the box containing the treasures.

From that tiny acorn — a boy wearing his teacher’s nylons and fantasizing about being a woman’s slave — I now found myself actually living as a slave, and discovering that the reality was far different than the images I’d conjured up while jerking off. I’d never considered the hurt feet and hurt feelings. And while getting an ass-whipping might seem erotic when it’s happening between the ears, as I stood there at attention watching the family chat and have a good old time together, it wasn’t something I was looking forward to in real life by any stretch of the imagination.

<><><><><><> 

 

My ears perked up during dessert when my name was mentioned.

“So, girls, your mom tells me you keep going back and forth giving Edna Skid Marks and Brownie Points,” Phil said. “What’s that all about?”

Hailey huffed. “Kaitlyn thinks she can give Brownie Points for just any reason. Tell her, Dad — the maid has to do something first.”

“She DID do something,” Kaitlyn shot back. “She did what Mom wanted — or, at least, she tried to, until you bullied her.”

From his seat at the head of the table, Phil glanced my way. “Bullied her? What did Edna do?”

“She handed Hailey her laptop, when Mom told her to get it herself,” Kaitlyn said. “Poor Edna begged her not to make her do it, but she said she was gonna give her five Skid Marks if she didn’t. And then, after Edna handed it to her, she texted you to give her the marks anyway.”

“And then you tried to give her a bunch of Brownie Points when she didn’t do ANYTHING!” Hailey screamed.

“She DID do something — she tried to do what Mom wanted!”

“That’s not doing something!”

“Shut up!”

Miriam palm-pounded the table. “Both of you shut up!”

Phil smiled with an amused gleam in his eye. “All right, all right, let’s bring it down a notch, girls, okay?”

They nodded.

“Since we’re on the subject anyway, let’s go ahead and do the official tally.” Phil snapped his fingers at me and pointed to a spot near the table. “Edna, come stand over here.”

I scurried to obey, and in my haste I twisted my ankle, as I was still getting used to navigating those difficult heels.

“Ow, ow, ow,” I howled, doubling over and grabbing the sore spot.

Phil scoffed. “You’re fine, Edna, stand up straight.”

Gritting my teeth, I pulled myself upright and stood at attention with my weight on my good foot.

Phil set down his fork. “Okay, then, Edna, how about you run down your points. How many do you have this week?”

I winced when I curtseyed since it required me to stand evenly on both feet. “Um, sir, I have 12 Skid Marks; um, I did have 14, but I got six Brownie Points, sir, so it took away two points.”

“And how did you get the Skid Marks?”

I executed another painful curtsey. “Um, I got the 10 for hitting the power button on New Year’s Eve. Then, Miriam gave me two after I forgot to fill her car up with gas, and I got another two when I spilled juice on Jenna’s lap. Um, sir.”

Phil nodded. “Okay. And the Brownie Points?”

Another curtsey. “Um, sir, um, Kaitlyn gave me six for ironing all her clothes, sir.”

“She did the same thing for Hailey and Jenna, too, but they didn’t give him any Brownie Points,” Kaitlyn tattled.

“Well, ironing’s not extra work for a maid!” Jenna insisted. “Tell her, Dad — they’re supposed to do the ironing in the first place. That’s not extra.”

Kaitlyn grimaced. “But poor Edna was working so hard.”

Phil took a sip of water. “Sounds like a tough break, huh, Edna? Had the twins given you those Brownie Points, it would’ve put you under the line.”

“Y-yes, sir.” As I dipped into my curtsey the pain overwhelmed me and I buckled for a nanosecond before righting myself.

Kaitlyn pointed. “OMG, look how swelled up her ankle is!”

I glanced down and saw a balloon covered in nylon.

Phil winced. “Ooh, that looks like it hurts. You gonna be okay, there, Edna?”

With as much determination as I could muster, I curtseyed to the new man of the house. “Y-yes, sir.”

Kaitlyn pouted. “Poor Edna.”

Phil sighed. “Oh, all right, Edna, I guess I’m an old softie. I’m gonna give you 10 Brownie Points for trying so hard to be a good maid, and we’re not gonna punish you tonight. You really are trying, Edna, and I appreciate it.”

I was overcome with joy as I curtseyed and gushed, “Oh, sir, thank you so much, sir.”

Phil shrugged. “Ah, it’s nothing. You can go ahead and take those heels off, too. And, you know what? Go ahead and get that folding chair if you want to and set it up there in your little corner.”

“Oh, sir — I can’t thank you enough, sir!” I did a happy curtsey, kicked off those damned heels and hobbled away to retrieve the folding chair that had gotten me in trouble days earlier.

I was grateful as I relaxed on the chair for the rest of the meal. The family seemed sympathetic to my injury, and I was only called for a few refills, mostly by Hailey. Each time someone called, I limped to obey in my stockinged feet, flooded with gratitude at the benevolence of the new head of our household.

<><><><><><> 

 

After dinner, Miriam and Phil told the girls that their dad would be spending the night for the first time and that I’d be sleeping on the couch. The kids were ecstatic, and I half-expected them to ask their father to read them a bedtime story.

The kitchen and dining room were spic and span, and before turning in, I wobbled upstairs to take care of the usual bedtime routine, although the glass of water I set on my nightstand was for Phil, not me.

I was limping out of the bedroom when Miriam led Phil through the doorway. I stepped aside and curtseyed, trying to hold back my wince.

As I started to hobble from the room, Phil clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Not so fast, Edna. Stay right here.”

<><><><><><> 

 

My head rocked back and forth violently as I tried to keep my tongue attached to my wife’s clit. Phil wasn’t making my job easy by forcefully pounding his cock in and out of her pussy, but despite the logistic difficulties, I was in hog heaven. My excitement caused my dick to swell in its cage, and that heaven became mixed with a frustrated hell.

Phil tensed up and moaned, causing Miriam to suddenly convulse. I thought my neck was going to break.

After Phil pulled out with a plop, my wife tapped my head.

“Your master left a present for you Edna; come lick it up.”

My wife smiled as I began slurping their combined juices. “That’s the taste of sexual compatibility, Edna,” she said.

Far above me, Phil smirked. “Get used to it, Edna — I think you’re gonna be tasting it a lot in the future. If you keep on being good, that is.”

<><><><><><> 

 

Book Two

 

It’s always a bitch getting back to the daily grind following a layoff, but the Monday after New Year’s Day was particularly rough on me last year, given all the craziness that had turned my world upside down during the holiday break.

Prior to my transformation into a trans maid, as a doting father I would get up each weekday morning to prepare the girls’ breakfast, pack lunches and make sure they had everything else they needed before dropping them off at school (until Kaitlyn got her license and took over the driving duties). Miriam generally slept in, since she didn’t go to the office until about noon on the three days she worked each week.

Like everything else in my life, mornings changed radically after Phil entered the picture. Although it was a major pain in the ass, he had insisted that his daughters deserved full, formal maid service to start each day, so I had to get up early, put on makeup and my fancy serving uniform, see the girls off to school, and then hurriedly wash my face and change into my dental scrubs after they left. It added at least an hour to my routine each morning, but that was no skin off Phil’s nose.

Phil had further mandated that I would be required each morning to lay out the kids’ clothes and make sure their shoes were polished and lined up neatly on the hallway floor outside their respective bedrooms. Breakfast had to be on the table by the time they woke up, and Phil told me I was to make myself available at the drop of a hat for anything his daughters might want as they prepared for school.

On the first morning after last year’s break, I wasn’t yet used to the brand-new routine and was running behind. As I scrambled around the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the girls’ plates of French toast, Jenna’s petulant wail made me flinch:

“Ed-naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!! Get up here!”

Wiping my hands on my apron, I dashed up the stairs. I was about halfway up when Jenna hollered for me again, and her shrill summons was followed by Miriam’s annoyed bellow from the bedroom: “Keep it down, damn it — I’m trying to sleep!”

“Sorry, Ma,” Jenna replied.

When I got to the twins’ doorway, I paused and curtseyed.

“You called, Miss?” I whispered.

“Yes, I called.” Jenna held up the outfit I’d prepared. “What’s this, Maid?”

I curtseyed. “Um, it’s the clothes you picked out for school last night, Miss.”

She scoffed. “Well, I don’t remember picking these out — and if I did, I don’t want to wear ‘em now. Go get my red skirt and the checkered blouse with the ruffles, and make sure they’re ironed.”

Beaming with pride, I curtseyed and reported, “Um, Miss, they’re already ironed, remember? I did your whole wardrobe the other day.”

“So? What are you bragging about it for? Are you looking for Brownie Points or something?”

After executing a respectful curtsey, I bleated, “No, no, Miss, of course not. I was just reminding you that your clothes were all ironed, that’s all, Miss.”

“Well, iron them again — Maid.” She flipped her hair and disappeared into the bathroom as her twin walked out rubbing her eyes.

Hailey frowned. “I’m hungry, Edna, is breakfast ready?”

I curtseyed. “It is, Miss. Nice and hot.”

“What’d you make?”

Curtsey. “French toast, Miss.”

“Ugh, who told you to make THAT?”

Curtsey. “I … I … Miss, it’s your favorite.”

Hailey curled her lip. “Not this morning. I want waffles.”

Cursing under my breath at all the extra work the girls were making for me, I executed yet another curtsey and responded with a cheery, “Of course, Miss, I’ll have ‘em ready right away.”

Before ironing Jenna’s outfit and fixing Hailey’s waffles, I checked in with Kaitlyn, curtseying in her doorway and asking if I could do anything for her.

She scrunched up her face and pointed at her shoes. “Yeah, Edna, there’s a big, black mark on the side of my flat. Didn’t my dad say you were supposed to have our shoes ready for us every morning?”

“I … I … yes, Miss, I polished them.”

“Well, it sure doesn’t look like it. Does it look like it to you?”

With a curtsey, I tried to stammer out some kind of explanation, since I knew I’d polished her shoes earlier, and couldn’t figure out how they’d gotten smudged. “I … I …”

Kaitlyn waved her hand to shut me up, just like her mom. “It doesn’t matter, Edna. Can you please make sure they’re done before I’m ready to leave?”

“Y-yes, Miss. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, but you need to be careful — my dad says we’re supposed to tell him when you screw things up. I won’t say anything this one time, but I would’ve been completely embarrassed if I’d gone to school in those shoes. If this kind of stuff keeps happening, I’m going to have to tell him … okay?”

With tears forming in my eyes, I curtseyed for probably the dozenth time that morning. “Y-yes, Miss. T-thank you. I’m so sorry, please.”

“Don’t worry about it, Edna.” She offered a gentle smile. “I can see you’re trying. I bet it’s hard being a maid, huh?”

<><><><><><> 

 

In the dentistry profession, sore feet come with the territory, since the job entails standing all day. But after suffering through four-inch heels for the previous week, not to mention a twisted ankle, by the time my first workday under the new world order was finished, I was ready to drop.

Dropping wasn’t an option, unfortunately — the minute I got home I changed into one of my housecleaning uniforms, along with the Shoes From Hell, and dove into yet more work. Phil was expected for dinner — he’d become a fixture in our home by then — so I made sure the place was extra-clean and in ship-shape, knowing any little thing could set him off and result in punishment. Phil had left his frat paddle on display in the living room to remind me what would happen if my service wasn’t up to snuff. If he was trying to scare me, I thought as I scurried back and forth on my heels sprucing up the house, it was working.

The girls got home first, handing me their textbooks before disappearing into their bedrooms. Miriam and Phil arrived a few minutes later, and I fetched her usual glass of wine, along with a Michelob for him — served in one of the chilled mugs that now occupied a prominent space in our freezer. The man of the house and his woman relaxed in the living room while I bustled around the kitchen. My announcement that dinner was just a few minutes away was met with regal nods.

During the meal, I stood in my corner with my feet and heart aching, feeling lonely and left out while my former wife and children enjoyed family supper with a real man at the head of the dinner table. Adding to my crushing sadness was having to admit how great they all looked together. They represented the perfect amalgamation of superior genes, while in family photos I’d always seemed the outsider — an effeminate, beta doofus surrounded by alpha beauty queens who clearly occupied a higher caste.

The dinnertime conversation covered various subjects until the girls began pestering their father about moving in.

“I wish you lived with us, Dad,” Hailey said for probably the hundredth time, while her sisters nodded.

“I do, too, honey, but it’s not that simple. If I moved in we’d have to explain Edna to everyone, and we’ve still got to keep her being trans a secret.”

“For how long?” Jenna whined.

“Yeah, Dad, why can’t Edna just be herself?” Hailey furrowed her brow. “Nobody would care — there’s a lot of trans people around.”

Miriam sighed and squeezed Phil’s hand. “Like we’ve told you before: Edna has a lot of patients who would leave if she came out as trans, and we’d lose a lot of money,” my wife said. “She could lose her practice. We’d have to move for sure — we wouldn’t be able to afford a place like this.”

Jenna huffed. “You’re the boss at the book place, Dad — don’t you make enough money to take care of us?”

Phil squirmed and chuckled. “I do, honey … but not in a place like this.” He stared at me and I cast my eyes downward, scared to death that he might think I was gloating. I was certain he could sense my fear as he fixed his gaze on me for several uncomfortable seconds.

Kaitlyn rescued the moment with a suggestion that put her analytical mind on full display:

“I don’t understand it,” she said. “You guys say that Edna would lose a bunch of patients because they had a problem with her being trans — but couldn’t she also get a bunch of NEW patients who wanted to support LGBT? She could advertise on social media that she needs new patients to save her practice because a bunch of backward, old jerks couldn’t accept her as trans. She could even start a yourfundsme page to raise money to save the practice. That would go viral.”

Phil and Miriam looked at each other, their grins rising.

“Our daughter is a genius,” Miriam told her lover.

Phil nodded and smiled at his oldest child. “Kaitlyn, sweetheart — I think your idea just might solve all our problems.”

I gulped. While everyone else at the table cheerfully agreed that Kaitlyn’s proposal would likely solve THEIR problems, as far as I was concerned, MY problems were about to get ten times worse.

<><><><><><> 

 

My patient did a double-take when I entered the room.

“Um, why are you wearing makeup?” Jonas Rutheford garbled through a mouthful of gauze. “Costume party?”

I cleared my throat. “Well, Mr. Rutheford, um, actually, I’m, uh, coming out as … um, I’m transgendered.”

“What!? Transgendered? Are you fucking serious?” The old man shoved aside the dental tray, spit gauze onto the floor and clambered to his feet. “Get away from me, you freak — I want nothing to do with degenerates like you!”

Mr. Rutheford, who’d been one of my most loyal patients, stomped out of the office cussing up a storm.

My receptionist Jill inched into the exam room with a sympathetic smile. “Well, that’s three out of five.”

I sighed. “So far. Not counting most of the staff. Ugh, what a nightmare. But I do appreciate you staying on, Jill — I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

“Of course, Dr. McGraw. You are who you are; male, female, whatever, it doesn’t bother me one bit. And I guess we’ll be discussing my added duties at dinner tonight?”

“Huh? Dinner? Added duties? What … what are you talking about?”

Jill held her hand to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, I assumed you knew. Your wife just called a few minutes ago and invited me over for dinner to discuss some new duties she said I’d be getting now that things have changed and you’ve come out.”

My shoulders slumped. “Ah, okay. Well, thanks, Jill. I guess we’ll see you at dinner tonight, then.”

“Sure, Dr. McGraw, I look forward to it. Uh, is everything okay?”

“Er, uh, yes, thank you. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

I had no idea what Miriam wanted to discuss with Jill — only that it couldn’t possibly be anything good — and was mortified by the notion that my longtime receptionist was going to see how I was treated at home.

But that was the least of my worries as the hours dragged on, and I watched the practice I’d built for nearly two decades crumble before my very eyes. By the time my ‘out day’ was over, four out of my seven scheduled patients had left the office vowing to never return, and out of a staff of eight, only Jill and two hygienists, Sondra and Tina, were still there when we closed up shop at 5pm. I had hoped to break the news gently by informing my staff and patients about my lifestyle change before showing up to work in makeup and pink scrubs, but Phil put the kibosh on that idea, telling me it was best to “just dive right in.”

As I drove home, I was fuming that the Happy Smiles Dental Clinic appeared headed for disaster, thanks to Phil forcing me to go public with my crossdressing. While it had been Kaitlyn’s idea to have me ‘come out’ in the hopes that my lost patients would be replaced by LGBT-friendly clientele, I couldn’t get mad at her, since in her mind she was doing me a favor by helping me become the woman I’d always wanted to be.

Phil, on the other hand, knew exactly what was up. The rotten sonofabitch knew damn well how utterly embarrassing all this was for me — and apparently that was the whole point, since he seemed to enjoy making me miserable, although on occasion he’d also shown himself to be magnanimous.

Despite his flashes of benevolence, though, I knew Phil’s decisions were made to benefit him, not me. By ordering me to come out as trans, he clearly thought he could have his cake and eat it, too, figuring it would allow him to move in with Miriam and his daughters without scandal while keeping my sizeable income intact — and keeping me underfoot as the family maid.

As I parked the minivan in the driveway and slogged toward the house, I was sure that Phil had guessed wrong by endorsing Kaitlyn’s plan, and that the dental practice I’d worked so hard to build was all but destroyed.

But as soon as I passed through the doorway, I was hit with a blast of enthusiasm that gave me hope — and made me cringe at the same time.

<><><><><><> 

 

It had been a half-day at school, and the girls were already home when I got there. Kaitlyn met me at the door.

“OMG, Edna, you’re viral,” she said.

“V-viral?”

“Yeah, come look.” Kaitlyn dragged me toward the dining room table, where her laptop was set up.

Hailey frowned from her spot on the couch. “Can’t that wait? I’m starving — I want something to eat.”

Kaitlyn shrugged. “Oh, all right — but hurry up, Edna; I’ve gotta show you this.”

I curtseyed to acknowledge Kaitlyn’s order before turning to Hailey and executing a second curtsey. “Um, what would you like to eat, Miss?”

“I dunno — go see what’s in there,” the spoiled fourteen-year-old snapped back.

After reporting the options, Hailey had me fry a plateful of cheese crisps in the microwave. As soon as I’d served them to her, Jenna glanced up from her phone and said, “Those look good, Edna — I want some, too.” So, I curtseyed to the quieter twin and retraced my steps to the kitchen.

When I was done, Kaitlyn literally pulled me onto the chair next to her spot at the dining room table and showed me her laptop, which was logged onto yourfundsme.com. I gasped when I saw that more than ten grand had been raised.

“It’s only been up for a few hours,” Kaitlyn said with a smile. “You’ve got a whole line of people who want to be patients — and a bunch of people said they’re gonna apply for jobs, too.”

I blinked. “How—?”

“The profile I made went absolutely viral, just like I said it would. Here.” She turned the laptop toward me, and I perused what had been posted by Kaitlyn, who had inherited both her parents’ flair for writing:

“Save our Family Home and Help Our Maid Overcome LBGT Hatred!!

Hello, my name is Kaitlyn McGraw and I’m asking for your help. My story is a long one so here goes. I am 16 and a junior at Middleville High School. This Christmas my little sisters and me found out that Ed McGraw, who we thought was our dad, was not our real dad. We also found out that Ed was always a woman inside but she hid it for years. Ever since she came out to the family she lives at home as Edna. She is the kind of trans who gets satisfaction from serving others and so she is now our family’s maid and she is very happy doing this. So is the family. We have never been happier. But now Edna wants to come out in public and not hide who she is any more. The problem is that she’s a dentist and a lot of her patients are backward jerks who are full of hate for LGBT people and Edna will lose her practice and then we will lose our house if we don’t get help. So I am asking for help with funds to help us get thru this tough time and also if any LGBT friendly people are out there who need their teeth worked on Edna is an awesome dentist who did all my family’s teeth and my friends too. Her place is called the Happy Smiles Dental Clinic in Middleville on 22^nd Street. If you go there to get your teeth done then she will get new patients to replace the jerks who left and she won’t lose her practice and we can stay in our home. Also, a bunch of the people who work for Edna are also a bunch of haters of LGBT too and will quit when she comes out so she will need new employees too. So if you want to help with funds any donation would be appreciated. And if you are ok with LGBT and want to sign up as a patient or if you have dental skills and need a job then PM me. Please help Edna save her dental practice and help us save our family home. Thank you so much – Kaitlyn McGraw.”

The first thing I noticed was that Kaitlyn had been astute enough to avoid mentioning Phil. If she had included him in her plea, an obvious question to potential donors would’ve been “why can’t that sonofabitch support the family and save your house?”

The second thing I noticed was that the inbox showed 974 messages.

And then I glanced at the top of the page; during the time I’d been sitting there, another two grand had been added to the tally.

Kaitlyn beamed. “What do you think?”

“I … uh … amazing, honey.”

Kait glanced toward her little sisters, who were watching TV in the next room. “Um, you probably shouldn’t be calling me ‘honey,’ Edna,” she said in low voice. “Dad says you should always call us ‘Miss.’ If the twins had heard, you might’ve gotten a Skid Mark.”

“Oh, yes, Miss, my apologies.”

Kaitlyn giggled and slapped my wrist. “No problem, Maid. So, do you like the profile? Look — someone just donated another $300.”

“I don’t even know what to say, Miss. I’m blown away.”

“Did you lose a lot of patients today?”

“Ugh. I had seven and four left mad. Plus, my whole staff quit, other than my receptionist and two hygienists.”

“Well, that’s not a problem now, huh?”

“Um, no, Miss, it isn’t. Um … is it okay if I look through some of these messages?”

Kaitlyn smiled. “No, Edna go ahead — but first, run to the kitchen real quick and grab me some juice — and go ahead and make me some of those cheese crisps, too.”

<><><><><><> 

 

I was lost in Kaitlyn’s laptop examining yet another impressive resume from a prospective hygienist when the front door opened and Phil’s sarcastic snark jolted me out of my trance:

“Nice and comfy, are we, Maid?”

I scrambled to my feet and curtseyed to the man of the house, who stood next to Miriam with his arms folded.

“S-sorry, sir,” I stammered.

Miriam scowled. “Sorry, my ass. Why are you still wearing scrubs — and why haven’t you started on dinner? Didn’t Jill tell you she was coming over tonight? What the hell, Edna?”

After my respectful curtsey, I explained, “I’m sorry Ma’am … Sir … Miss Kaitlyn told me I could look through her laptop at everyone who’s made appointments and applied for jobs; um, the page she put up went viral, just like she said it would! There’s already more than $15,000 raised!”

Miriam’s eyes got big. “What?”

Kaitlyn bustled down the stairs. “Did Edna show you the page?”

“Not yet, honey; she just told us,” Miriam said. “Fifteen grand? Wow! Fantastic job, honey!”

Kaitlyn beamed. “It’s only been up a few hours! So far, about a thousand people want to be patients or come work for Edna. She said she lost almost all her employees and patients after she came out at the office today — but it doesn’t matter now. She’ll have ten times as many patients. A hundred times as many!”

Phil stroked his daughter’s hair. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you. This was a great plan.”

Miriam lifted Kaitlyn’s hand and kissed it. “You’re growing into such a special young lady.”

I stood in the hallway feeling left out yet again as my wife of 17 years, her lover and their oldest child — who until recently I’d thought was my own — enjoyed a warm three-way hug. My gut churned with a mixture of anguish, jealousy and pride at Kaitlyn’s accomplishment, even though her triumph had sealed my fate, ensuring that I’d be living as a woman full-time.

Bless her heart, Kaitlyn figured she’d done me some huge favor. My wife and Phil knew better — their daughter had done THEM a huge favor.

When the hug was over, Phil frowned at me. “What are you standing around for, Edna? Didn’t Miriam just tell you she wanted you to get changed and start making dinner?”

As I curtseyed and apologized, Miriam shook her head. “Unbelievable. Put yourself down for three Skid Marks. First, we come home to find you not in uniform and sitting on your ass with dinner not started, and now you ignore my order? Forget three — make it five Skid Marks.”

Phil chortled, leaned down and kissed Miriam. “Damn, baby, you’re mean.”

“That IS mean!” Kaitlyn balled her fists. “Mom, that’s no fair — I told Edna she could go through all the job applications on my laptop. She doesn’t deserve Skid Marks. It’s MY fault!”

Phil smiled at his daughter. “Listen, honey, I know you care about Edna — but if you really care about her, then you’ll realize that she needs this kind of structure and discipline in her life. You’re really not doing her any favors by letting her slide when she messes up.”

Miriam added: “Edna knows she’s supposed to change into her uniform and get started on dinner as soon as she gets home. Especially when we’ve got company coming over. She should’ve told you she’d look at the resumes after her chores were done. This isn’t your fault — it’s on her.”

“There’s a certain way the maid is supposed to behave, honey,” Phil added.

Katilyn huffed. “But it’s just … just … so MEAN.”

“Honey, we’ve explained this to you before — Edna needs it.” Phil looked me in the eyes, sending a cold chill through my spine. “Tell her, Edna — tell her you need this.”

“Y-yes, sir.” I curtseyed and lied my sissy ass off: “Um, Miss Kaitlyn, your father is right. I … I need discipline and, uh, structure in my life, and so it’s only right when I get Skid Marks for messing up.”

It was all I could to do keep from screaming, “IT’S A GODDAMN LIE! YOUR DAD IS AN EVIL SONOFABITCH WHO USED MY LOVE FOR YOU AND YOUR MOTHER TO MANIPULATE ME INTO THIS POSITION!!! AND YOUR HEARTLESS MOM IS GOING ALONG WITH IT!! YES, I MAY HAVE FANTASIZED ABOUT IT — BUT I DON’T LIKE BEING A MAID IN REAL LIFE! AND I’M NOT REALLY A WOMAN INSIDE A MAN’S BODY! DON’T BELIEVE ANY OF IT, HONEY — HELP ME!!!

But like the coward I’d become, I kept my mouth shut while Kaitlyn contemplated the situation, chewing her lip just like her mother always did when she was deep in thought.

“Okay,” she finally said. “If that’s how it is, then let’s add three more Skid Marks because you called me ‘Honey’ earlier.” She turned to her father. “I think that’s worth at least three Skid Marks, huh, Dad? She didn’t call me ‘Miss’ like she’s supposed to — and maids need to stay in their place, right?”

Phil chuckled. “Right, sweetheart. Maids definitely need to learn their place. Now, you’re learning.”

Miriam smacked her lips and stared at me like I was something she’d just stepped in. “And you’re still standing there … why? Are you daft? Do you want another five Skid Marks? GO CHANGE AND MAKE DINNER!!!”

“S-sorry, Ma’am,” I said, curtseying before literally running from the room.

I heard Kaitlyn giggle behind me.

<><><><><><> 

 

Jill seemed unfazed when I answered the doorbell in my formal maid’s uniform.

“I figured something like this was up after talking to your wife,” she said as she passed the threshold. “She kind of hinted that you held a lowly position at home.”

I curtseyed to my receptionist. “Yes, Ma’am, please come in, Ma’am,” I said in a small, shaky voice, feeling totally embarrassed at being outed as a maid to my longtime employee.

Jill followed me into the living room, where Miriam and Phil waited with welcoming smiles. My wife and Jill, who’d met on a few occasions, embraced, and then the guest slipped into Phil’s muscular arms for a quick hug.

Miriam snapped her fingers. “Edna, ask our guest what she’d like to drink. I’ll take a wine.”

Curtsey to Miriam. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Curtsey to Jill. “Ma’am, what can I get you to drink, Ma’am?”

Jill thought for a second. “A wine sounds good for me, too, Edna.”

Curtsey to Jill. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Curtsey to Phil. “Sir? Can I get you something to drink, sir?”

“Cold beer,” Phil said as he sank into the couch next to his woman.

Following one last curtsey, I scurried away to the kitchen.

I heard Jill giggle behind me.

<><><><><><> 

 

After I’d served the drinks, Miram told me to get lost.

“We want to talk alone for a while,” she said. “Go see if the girls need anything upstairs, and then check on dinner. Stay in the kitchen until we call you.”

“Y-yes, Ma’am.” I curtseyed and then headed up the steps.

I checked with the twins first, dipping my ubiquitous, respectful curtsey in their doorway. Neither twin required my services, so I went to Kaitlyn’s room next.

Curtsey. “Excuse me, Miss, can I get you anything before I finish up dinner?”

Kaitlyn scowled. “Yes, Maid, for starters, you can put yourself down for another five Skid Marks.”

“But … but, WHY, Miss Kaitlyn? W-what did I do?”

She pointed to her shoes. “My flat has another huge, black smudge on it. This is the second time now. Are you supposed to be taking care of my shoes or aren’t you?”

Curtsey. “Miss, I … I DID polish them. I know I did. I don’t—”

Kaitlyn silenced me with her regal hand-wave. “Quiet, Maid. You get on my nerves, you know that?”

Curtsey. “S-sorry, Miss.”

“I tried to be nice to you but it’s a waste of time. You’re a weirdo who likes being treated this way. Fine, then — my days of being nice are over. Now, put yourself down for another five Skid Marks, polish my shoes right this time — and then shut up. Okay? Do you think you can manage all that, Maid? Or are you too stupid?”

“Y-yes, Miss.”

“I saved your dental practice for you and you never even thanked me for it.”

“I … I’m sorry, Miss — I’m only supposed to speak when spoken to, Miss.”

“You’re such a loser. You can thank me now, Maid.”

“T-thank you, Miss. I really appreciate everything you did.”

Kaitlyn smirked. “If you think that’s gonna earn you Brownie Points, think again. Loser.”

Curtsey. “Um, no, Miss, I wasn’t thinking that, Miss.”

“Good. Now get out of my face — I’m tired of looking at you. And next time don’t use so much makeup; you look like you should be standing out on the street corner. I know we have company tonight, but that’s no reason to do yourself up like a prostitute, is it?”

Curtsey. “N-no, Miss.”

“Didn’t we teach you how to do makeup the right way?”

Curtsey. “Y-yes, Miss.”

Kaitlyn stared me in the eyes. “And you LIKE being treated mean like this? You need it?”

I sighed, wanting so badly to tell her the truth, but in the end wimping out.

Sad, defeated curtsey. “Y-yes, Miss.”

Kaitlyn shook her head. “You’re pathetic, you know that? PA-THE-TIC. Now, go. Get out of here and do my shoes.”

Red-faced, I dipped a final curtsey, scooped up her flats and vamoosed.

<><><><><><> 

 

My broiled salmon went over well as the family and their guest relaxed and enjoyed a leisurely but productive dinner. The main topics of discussion were how Kaitlyn’s ingenious idea had succeeded beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, and the changes that would be implemented going forward because of it. I wasn’t included in the conversation about the future of the dental practice I’d worked so hard to build; all decisions were made without my input while I stood at attention, listened raptly — and kept my pansy mouth shut.

When everyone sat down to the table, Kaitlyn reported that more than $20,000 had been donated to the crowdfunding page, while more than a thousand patients had made appointments for dental work. Kaitlyn’s inbox was also filled with hundreds of resumes from job applicants.

“Even if you cut the responses in half, Edna would obviously have to triple or even quadruple the size of the clinic if she’s going to come close to accommodating all those patients,” Phil said before taking a bite of salmon.

Jill nodded. “Even at full staff, we’re obviously not set up to take a thousand patients. No way — on top of all the hygienists you’d need to hire, there’d need to be at least a few other dentists on staff, and even then you’d be booked solid for the next five years.”

“That’s a good problem to have,” Phil said. “I’ve been kicking around the idea of having a lead dentist at the office to sort of run things, anyway, because I don’t think Edna should be in charge — she’ll start getting a high opinion of herself. So, having a few extra dentists on the staff sounds good. We’ll put Edna at the bottom of that hierarchy, even though technically the clinic will still be hers.”

Jill’s face lit up. “Hey!  My Aunt Yvette is an awesome dentist. And she’s a lesbian, too — so she’s definitely LGBT-friendly.”

“Would you call her for us?” Miriam asked.

“Yeah,” Phil said, “tell her with this large of a patient base, we’d probably be able to bump up her salary pretty significantly, no matter what she’s making now. Okay?”

“Absolutely. She lives in a different time zone, so she’s still asleep. I’ll call her first thing tomorrow. And I’ll see if she knows any other dentists who might be interested.”

Miriam leaned forward in her chair. “Jill, Phil and I would consider it an honor if you’d take over as Edna’s personal overseer at the office.”

“I’d be glad to.”

Miriam smiled. “Thank you. Even after we hire a lead dentist, Edna will report directly to you. Of course, it’ll come with a substantial raise and a new title: Office Manager.” My wife smirked at me. “We don’t want you getting a big head when you’re at work, so Jill is now your boss. And so is everyone else who works there, or who will work there. You may be a dentist — but you’re always the low maid on the totem pole. Sound good to you — Maid?”

Biting back tears, I curtseyed. “Of course, Ma’am.”

Jill shook her head. “I can’t believe how well-trained she is. How do you do it?”

“We use a system called, ‘Skid Marks’ and ‘Brownie Points,’” Phil explained. “If she screws up, she gets Skid Marks; if she does something above and beyond, she can earn Brownie Points to try to take away some of the Skid Marks.”

“If she gets more than 10 Skid Marks each week, she gets punished,” Jenna said before her twin added: “But she’s only been serving us a few weeks, and she hasn’t gotten punished yet.”

Jill smiled. “So, Edna’s a good maid?”

“Not really.” Kaitlyn curled her lip. “I just gave her five Skid Marks earlier.”

Phil tilted his head. “Really? On top of the three you gave her for calling you ‘honey?’ What’d she do now?”

Kaitlyn scrunched up her face. “I found another scuff on my shoe — a big, black mark two times in a row.”

The twins glanced at each other and tittered behind their hands, and their older sister stared at them through narrowed eyes. “So, it was YOU TWO!! You’ve been putting those smudge marks on my shoes so the maid would get in trouble. No wonder poor Edna seemed so confused; she said she’d just polished them when they got smudged. It was YOU TWO.”

Hailey blinked at her sister innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Kaitlyn.”

“Me neither,” Jenna chimed in with a sneer.

Kaitlyn looked at me and sighed. “I guess I yelled at you for nothing, Edna — it was these two idiots.”

“T-thank you, Miss.” I curtseyed.

Kaitlyn smirked. “What are you thanking me for? You need structure and discipline, remember? Those Skid Marks stay on the books — if that’s all right with you, Dad.”

“Of course, it’s all right, sweetheart. You’re really learning how to deal with the help, and I’m proud of you. Are you being a little rough and unfair to the maid? Sure, you are — but Edna needs that, and she’ll be happier in the long run. Won’t you, Edna?”

With a curtsey, I said the words Phil wanted to hear: “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“No problem, Maid. Everything seems to be working out just fine. Now, why don’t you run to the kitchen and bring that nice-looking pie you made?”

“Yes, sir, coming right up.” I scurried into the kitchen, devastated that even though I’d done nothing wrong and was the victim of a prank, Kaitlyn hadn’t rescinded those five terrible Skid Marks.

I heard the twins giggle behind me.

<><><><><><> 

 

I was bent over retrieving Phil’s boxers from the bedroom carpet when a surprise slap to my ass made me whelp and jerk bolt upright.

Miriam chuckled. “You have a nice butt, Edna, did you know that?”

“Um, t-thank you, Ma’am.”

She reached under my dress and fondled my crotch, causing my dick to swell in its cage. “When’s the last time you had an orgasm, Edna?”

“Uh, since before Christmas, Ma’am.”

“Aw, poor Edna. But all this mean stuff turns you on, too, doesn’t it?”

I blinked and stammered, “um, uh, er … uh, I …”

“It’s okay — you can speak freely, Edna. I promise you won’t get in trouble.” Miriam kissed me on my forehead before slipping into bed. “Does being my sissy maid, and being in chastity like this for weeks on end turn you on?”

With a curtsey, I nodded. “Y-yes, Ma’am, it does. But …”

“But what?”

“I … I …”

“I said you can speak freely. In fact, I ORDER you to speak freely.”

“Well, um, only parts of it turn me on, Ma’am. The rest … well, I wish some things were different, that’s all.”

Miriam arched an eyebrow. “I see. So, you thought being my maid was all about dressing up and prancing around the bedroom while I insulted you, and then after you had your pathetic little orgasm, everything would go back to being peachy-keen? Well, welcome to the real world, missy. Everything doesn’t always work out the way we want, does it?”

I curtseyed. “N-no, Ma’am.”

“What parts do you wish were different?”

“Well, Ma’am … um, are you sure it’s okay to speak freely?”

“Yes, sissy, jeez, go ahead.”

“Well, I just wish we could do this in private, Ma’am. I don’t like being out. It’s embarrassing.”

Miriam giggled. “Well, Phil likes you being embarrassed. And, frankly, so do I.”

“But … but WHY?”

“Why?” My wife paused for a moment before continuing. “Because we think it’s funny, that’s why. We get a kick out of it, if you must know. When we’re alone, we crack up at all the things we make do you.” She studied my face. “And we do it because you need it. You know you do. Remember who you’re talking to, Edna — I saw ALL your dirty little fantasies on your websites. Remember? I know who you are. Phil does, too.”

I bowed my head. “Y-yes, Ma’am. B-but …”

“But what?”

“Well, there’s a difference between fantasy and reality.”

Miriam stuck out her bottom lip and pretended to care, although her tone made it obvious she didn’t. “Aw, I bet it must really suck being a maid, huh, Edna? All that housework. You just never stop, do you? Clean, clean, clean, that’s all you do! And on those heels! I don’t know how you do it, Edna. I really don’t. I applaud you; I sure as hell couldn’t do it. If they had a Maid of the Year Award, I’d nominate you for it.”

“Um, thank you, Ma’am. It IS a lot of work. But, um … that’s not the bad part.”

“Oh? And what is, pray tell?”

“Th … the girls … I wish they didn’t know.”

“Listen, it’s YOUR fault they know. Or did you forget that?”

Tears formed in my eyes. “I … I know, Ma’am. But, why … why did that have to turn into me being a … a maid? For the whole family? Just because they caught me in your pantyhose?”

“I told you — things don’t always work out how we thought they would, Edna. Some stuff we can’t control, and things just happened how they happened, that’s all. The kids found out about you. Then, Nora bought them that damned genealogy subscription for Christmas and I had to tell them about Phil. We’d been trying to figure out for a while how we could be together as a couple publicly, and tell the kids that he was their dad. That was all supposed to happen later, though, because we didn’t want to traumatize the kids by breaking up the family. But the way everything played out, it sort of forced our hands. And here we are. You have a need to be a maid, Edna, so since you begged me not to divorce you, Phil saw that as a way of keeping you around and allowing him to move in — unless you want a divorce. Because you can’t live with us, either as a man or a trans woman, otherwise. Phil won’t have that, and I don’t want it, either. So, then — do you want a divorce?”

Tears formed in my eyes. “N-no, Ma’am. Of course not.”

Miriam smiled. “Aw. Me neither, boo-boo. I like having you around … as my maid. Things are better than ever between us — and now that you’re out, Phil can go ahead and move in here to be the kids’ dad. I know it’s not how either of us hoped it would happen, and I know you’re sad about some of it, but overall, it’s worked out okay … wouldn’t you say?”

I curtseyed and lied, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Miriam’s revelation confirmed what I’d suspected all along: That Phil had planned to break up my marriage after the girls were raised, but when my crossdressing and his paternity were unexpectedly revealed during the same week, he seized the opportunity to expedite his scheme, using my love for Miriam and the girls to manipulate me into a subservient role that also allowed him to exploit my income — a fairly significant detail my wife had neglected to mention.

With a leer, Miriam spread her legs and showed me her bare pussy. “You’ve been so good about everything, Edna. All these changes, and you’ve gone right along like a good little sissy. When Phil gets out of the shower, I’m going to ask him if we can give you a little treat. Would you like a little treat, Edna?”

I curtseyed. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Would you like to watch Phil fuck me again? Maybe lick me while he’s doing it like you did last time?”

I curtseyed. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“That felt good. Does it make you happy that you can finally do something in the bedroom that makes me feel good, Edna?”

“Oh, yes, Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am!”

“If you’re a good little sissy, we’ll see about maybe even letting you out of that cage, too. How’s that sound?”

“M-Ma’am, it sounds wonderful, Ma’am.”

Phil sauntered in from the master bathroom with his hair wet. “Hey, Edna, I’m done with my shower; that bathroom’s a mess. Oh, and I took a piss and missed a little — you’re gonna want to get that up, too.”

I curtseyed. “Yes, Sir.”

Miriam rolled her eyes. “Ugh, you men and your bad aim. That’s one thing I’m NOT looking forward to after you move in.”

“Sorry, babe.” Phil shrugged. “But that’s what we have Edna for.” He winked. “Right, Edna?”

I curtseyed. “Yes, Sir.”

Miriam frowned at me. “Make sure you check the bathroom every time he uses it — and I mean EVERY time.”

I curtseyed. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“If there’s one thing I hate, it’s piss on the damn toilet seat,” she said. “It’s disgusting. If I find one drop that’s 10 Skid Marks. You hear me?”

I curtseyed. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Phil smirked. “Well, then, I’ll make sure to leave you a little present every time I go, just to keep you on your toes and let you know I’m thinking about you.”

As I curtseyed, Miriam scowled at her boyfriend and said, “Ugh, you’re disgusting!”

Phil shooed me away with his hand and fell onto the bed next to my wife while I hurried to the utility cupboard to retrieve the disinfectant and wipes. When I got to the bathroom, I found a disaster area, with four wet towels on the floor, water everywhere, toiletries with the caps off — and piss all over the toilet and on the tiles below.

I had the bathroom spic and span in a matter of minutes, and then washed my hands and reported to the bedroom.

Miriam curled her lip, her playful mood long gone. “Get out of here, Edna — I don’t want you anywhere near me after you’ve been cleaning up piss.”

<><><><><><> 

 

It was still dark outside when I got to the clinic Monday morning. With a sigh, I unlocked the front door, flipped on the lights and started the coffeemaker like I’d done thousands of times before.

This day, however, promised to be different. Horrifyingly different.

For nearly twenty years, I had always been the first to arrive at Happy Smiles. It was my happy place; my safe space; my salvation — tangible confirmation that my hateful father had been wrong by telling me I would never amount to anything because I was a ‘born sissy.’

It turned out the rotten bastard was right. If anyone was a born sissy, I thought to myself as I watched the coffee brew, it was me.

I sat at my desk sipping the morning’s first cup of joe and looking around the office, no longer feeling proud of what I’d built. Instead, I was disgusted at how far I’d fallen — and gripped with apprehension wondering what the first day under the new administration would look like.

It didn’t take long to find out.

At a quarter to eight, Jill entered the office with two woman who looked to be in their mid-50s.

I smiled. “Um, hello.”

Without a word, one of the older women marched to my desk and slapped the shit out of me.

“Stand up, you disrespectful little bitch,” she screamed in my ear, and I jumped to my feet rubbing my flaming cheek. “Don’t you ever let me catch you sitting down again when me or any other woman is in your presence. You hear me?”

“Um, yes, Ma’am.”

“In fact, from now on, you ask permission to sit. Otherwise, you stand.”

“Y-yes, Ma’am.”

Jill giggled. “That’s the way to establish who’s boss, Aunt Yvette.”

“Oh, I told you: This isn’t my first sissy.” Yvette sneered at me. “I paid my way through dental school by doing dominatrix sessions.” She nodded toward her companion. “My wife Gemma and me had a nice little thing going, paying our tuition and then our student loans by dominating rich assholes with crossdressing fetishes — so we both know how to handle little pansies like you. Understood?”

“Y-yes, Ma’am.”

SLLLLAAAP!!!

My head jerked sideways and tears filled my eyes.

Yvette glowered. “Is there a reason you didn’t curtsey when you responded to me? Have you been trained or not? I was under the impression you’d had some training already, but it sure as hell doesn’t look like it.”

I curtseyed and apologized. It didn’t help.

“Put yourself down for five Skid Marks, Edna,” Jill said. “Miriam and Phil aren’t going to be happy when I tell them how you embarrassed them like this. First, we find you sitting on your sissy little ass drinking coffee, just as pretty as you please — and then you don’t curtsey when responding to a superior. That’s basic maid deportment, Edna; stuff you should already know. This isn’t good.”

“I … I’m so sorry, Ma’am,” I repeated with another curtsey. Inwardly, I groaned and wondered how I could possibly avoid getting 10 Skid Marks each week now that I had to also worry about being penalized at work for every little slipup in addition to being watched like a hawk at home.

There wasn’t much time to ponder the matter, though, since Yvette started circling me like a drill sergeant, looking me up and down. She stopped behind me, making the hair on my neck stand up.

“You’re a dinky little bitch,” she said. “How tall are you?”

“Um, five foot five, Ma’am.”

She snorted. “Well, Jill, you were right — this one’s a born sissy.”

Jill and Gemma chuckled while I gritted my teeth. Clearly, Miriam and Phil had spilled the beans to my former receptionist-now-supervisor about my father’s recurring childhood insult, and Jill in turn had informed Yvette and Gemma.

Once again, it hit me that being a real-life slave meant nothing was sacred — all my secrets would be put out there for public consumption and my most painful memories would be fodder for jokes or weapons to be used against me.

Jill made herself at home in my chair. “This is my office now, Edna. I want all your stuff out of here ASAP.”

I curtseyed. “Yes, Ma’am. Um … where should I put it?”

“What do I care?” Jill shrugged. “Take it home, I guess.”

Another curtsey. “Um, I don’t think Mrs. Miriam or Mr. Phil will allow me to bring anything extra home, Ma’am.”

“Well, then throw it out — I don’t give a crap what you do with it; just get it out of here.”

With a smirk, Yvette removed my framed diplomas from the wall and threw them in the wastebasket before sitting on the edge of my old desk.

“Okay, Edna,” she said, snapping her fingers and pointing to a spot in front of her. “Come here. We need to discuss a few things.”

<><><><><><> 

 

I stood at attention avoiding eye contact with the dozen women who filled the office chattering amongst themselves. Yvette held up her hand for silence.

“Thank you all for coming, ladies. Each of you sent resumes in to the yourfundsme page, and they were screened by Jill, our Office Manager, whom you’ve all spoken with. I’m Dr. Yvette Taylor; I’m the Lead Dentist. This is my wife, Deputy Lead Dentist Gemma Taylor. And this specimen,” Yvette said, gesturing toward me, “is Edna, our dental assistant-slash-maid.”

I felt my skin crawl as everyone looked at me.

“As you all know from the yourfundsme page, Edna technically owns this clinic,” Yvette said. “Well, her wife owns it; this little bitch doesn’t own anything.”

That got a chuckle out of the group as Yvette continued: “So, Jill briefed you all on the situation here, and you’ve all indicated that you’re okay with it. How many of you are LGBT?”

Out of the 12 women present, nine raised their hands.

“Wonderful. This is a very exciting time, ladies,” Yvette said. “You are the first staff members of the new Rainbow Smiles Dental Clinic, which will be a pioneering LGBT-friendly organization catering to an adult clientele.”

This was all news to me; Miriam had simply told me to show up to work Monday and obey everyone I met.

Jill took over the floor. “We have appointments booked for the next two years, with a waiting list of hundreds after that,” she said. “It’s amazing how many people want to support a venture like this. I’ve sent out materials to everyone who asked for appointments, letting them know what to expect. Everyone was enthusiastic about it, other than those who had children and weren’t able to book appointments. You see, ladies, this will be strictly an adult clinic.”

Yvette nodded. “Now that there’s a growing acceptance of trans people in our culture, we feel it’s time for the public to accept that there are subgroups within the trans community, including those whose calling is to serve as maids. Edna’s family seems to have found a way to integrate that into their lives without it causing any problems for their kids; they’ve accepted that Edna wants to serve, and the whole thing has been handled in a way that’s appropriate for minors. And now, we’re going to take it one step further by being public about it.”

A chunky woman with curly hair raised her hand.

“Yes?” Yvette nodded. “You are?”

“Hi, I’m Charlotte; I was hired for one of the hygienist positions.”

“Yes, Charlotte? What did you want to say?”

“Well, I was wondering why we can’t make appointments for children, since you say Edna’s family has integrated it into their lives.”

“That’s a good question.” Yvette looked at me and smirked. “It’s because we don’t plan to keep things G-Rated around here. This used to be called the Happy Smiles Dental Clinic — but once we start rolling, I get the feeling it’s going to be known as the Happy Ending Dental Clinic.”

The room erupted with laughter while my face turned red.

“The reason we’re going to be an adults-only clinic is, we plan on offering ‘extra services’ to our clients,” Yvette announced. “It’s completely legal in Nevada — and luckily for us, Gemma and I happen to know the head of the city Zoning Board; he’s one of the wimps who used to pay for our dominatrix services while we were working our way through dental school. So, he’s pulling some strings as we speak to get an exemption to allow for adult services in our clinic.”

Jill nodded. “Until then, we’ll just offer regular dental services at normal prices — but once we get up and running with the ‘extras,’ the prices will go up, and your salaries will go up as well.”

A tall blonde frowned. “Wait a minute — I didn’t sign up for this. You said you needed an LGBT-friendly dentist who also didn’t mind BDSM activities in the office, but nobody said anything about prostitution.”

Yvette held up her hand. “No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t make myself clear. What’s your name?”

“Dr. Rhonda Everly.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Dr. Everly, I should’ve told you up front — the only one who’ll doing any prostituting around here will be Edna.”

I gulped.

Charlotte laughed. “So … customers can sign up for a cleaning with a happy ending?”

With a leer, Dr. Everly added, “Or maybe Edna could take the edge off a tough root canal.”

“Precisely.” Yvette’s lips curled into a wicked smile and she eyed me like I was a roach she wanted to squash. “Or, perhaps the clients might want a dentist they can get handsy with. Edna will be happy to comply with anything. Won’t you, Edna?”

It was all I could do to keep my teeth from chattering as I curtseyed and said, “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Yes, Ma’am, indeed,” Yvette said. “Now, be a good little maid and run out to the donut shop while I continue briefing the staff. Get four dozen, and mix it up. Make sure you get bear claws and a few eclairs. Okay, Edna?”

I curtseyed. “Yes, Ma’am.”

My high heels clicked on the tiles as I minced out of the office. I felt ridiculous wearing pink scrubs with matching 4’ pumps, although I was starting to get used to the embarrassment.

And, besides, my wardrobe was the least of my worries.

<><><><><><>