“Presents”

by c.w. cobblestone

THE CAST

Elena

Roger

Kurt

Elena and Kurt, the loving couple

Linda and Tom, Elaine's parents

Rachel and Taylor, Elaine's 20-year-old twin sisters

...and introducing:

Moo-Moo!

or, as she's known at work:

Elsie

============

THE FRUITCAKE wouldn’t fit in Elena’s suitcase, so I set the tin by the front door near the ski equipment, which caused my bitchy wife to fly into one of her tirades.

“Why is my mom’s fruitcake on the floor? You don’t put food on the goddamn floor, Roger — what’s wrong with you? Are you stupid?”

“S-sorry, honey, it’s in a tin so I thought—”

“There’s your problem right there: You thought. Don’t think. God didn’t give you the equipment — upstairs or downstairs.”

I hung my head and absorbed the familiar insults to my intellect and three-inch penis while my wife glowered at me with her nostrils flared.

“And, quit calling me ‘honey’ — how many times do I have to tell you that? It makes my skin crawl.”

“S-sorry.” I stared at my shoes, trying not to cry.

A little smirk played on her lips. “Should I tell Kurt you won’t stop acting like we’re husband and wife still?”

I blanched. “N-no, please, I … I’m sorry. It’s habit, that’s all — I’m used to calling you ‘honey’ after all these years. I’m trying, but it’s hard sometimes.”

“Well, you better not let him hear you, if you don’t want another ass-whooping. Seriously, do want me to have him kick your ass again? I can, you know. All it’ll take is one phone call.”

“No, please, I …. no. P-please.”

“Then stop calling me ‘honey.’ I don’t love you, Roger. I love him.”

“I … I know.”

“Don’t give me that sad face. How many times do we have to go through this? You heard what Kurt said: If you want to stick around, you’re going to have to change the way you think about things. It’s that simple. I’m not your wife anymore, even though we’re technically still married.”

“I know. But it’s … well, the holidays are coming up, and—”

“And what? Are you trying to lay a guilt trip on me? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you because I’m taking him to the cabin to meet my parents? Maybe you forgot our little talk, Roger. Did you forget what Kurt told you after he kicked your ass? It happened just a few months ago, right there where you’re standing. Did you forget already?”

I licked my lips. “No.”

“Did you forget getting on your knees like a little bitch? Begging me not to leave you?”

“N-no.”

“Evidently, you did. We can stay married, Roger, since that’s apparently what you want for some sick, pathetic reason. But what did Kurt tell you?”

“Um, that I’m … I’m not good enough for you.”

“That’s goddamn right. You’re not good enough for me. You’re dogshit on my shoe, Roger. All those years before I met him, I kept it buried. But I never loved you. And you knew that. I mean, you’re not stupid; you knew it was your money. Right?”

I nodded, dislodging a tear from the corner of my eye.

Elena pouted. “Aw, now he’s crying.”

“I … I’m sorry,” I sniffled.

“Enough with the drama already. You need to stop this shit, Roger. If this is going to work, then like Kurt said, your job is to make me happy so I can concentrate on pleasing him. It’s all about him, and what he wants. I don’t give one shit about you — you’re here to make things better. For me and him. And when you keep acting like we’re still married, it does the opposite of making things better — it pisses me off. Now, you either start acting like Kurt wants, or let’s just call lawyers and be done with it.”

“No, no, please, I’m sorry, Elena — please!” I played with my shirtsleeve. “I’ll remember not to call you that. Honey, I mean. I … I really am sorry. It was a slip-up.”

After a few seconds, my wife threw up her hands. “Why are you still standing there with a stupid look on your face? Didn’t I tell you to get my mom’s fruitcake off the damn floor?”

“S-sorry,” I muttered yet again as I scooted across the hallway and scooped up the tin. “Uh, should I put it in a bag or something?”

Elena rolled her eyes. “Jeez, you’re useless. Yes, Roger, put it in a bag.”

As I turned to retrieve a brown paper bag from the kitchen, a horn tooted twice from outside.

My wife squealed. “Ooh, he’s here. Go see what he wants.”

I set the fruitcake tin on the foyer table and trudged outside to greet Elena’s asshole boyfriend.

Kurt was halfway up the stairs by the time I opened the front door. He acknowledged me with a sneer and jerked his thumb toward his truck. “Hey, fat boy. Fetch my skis and the other shit from the flatbed — and be careful with that suitcase, Numb-Nuts; Elena’s gift is in there.”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, hating myself for submitting to the smug bastard so humbly. But one of the rules he’d imposed after kicking my ass in my own home three months earlier was that I call him ‘sir,’ and show him respect at all times. He also made me sleep in the garage, since he said he didn’t want me being Elena’s roommate, even though I'd already been relegated to the couch.

Like a sap, I went along with it. I would’ve agreed to anything to keep Elena in my life, and I kept telling myself that sleeping in the garage, calling her boyfriend ‘sir’ and kissing his ass while he disrespected and insulted me wasn’t the worst thing in the world, as long as I was still married to the woman I adored.

When I got back into the house with Kurt’s gear, he was snogging with my wife in the foyer. He’d been out of town on a construction job, and the lovers hadn’t seen each other in a week. While they made up for lost time by dry-humping in the hallway, I scurried off to retrieve a bag for the fruitcake.

Elena and Kurt finally came up for air when I got back from the kitchen, and she asked him, “You ready to go, honey?” I was flooded with humiliation at her use of the very term of endearment that had gotten me yelled at only moments earlier.

“Nah, I could use a cup of coffee before we hit the road,” he said, nodding at me. “And I was thinking of having Numb-Nuts here give me one of his foot massages, too, if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes. We busted our asses on that Cleveland job, and my dogs are barking.”

Elena shrugged and removed her coat. “Sure, honey, whatever you want.” She looked at me like I was a bug. “I’ll have a coffee, too.”

I nodded and shuffled to the kitchen. After I served the hot beverages and sank to my knees in front of the sofa with the foot lotion in hand, my wife scowled down at me.

“He keeps calling me ‘honey,’” she tattled to her lover as she melted in his embrace. “I told him you don’t like it.”

Kurt bopped me in the ear with his socked foot, jarring my head sideways and causing me to see stars. “You trying to make a move on my girl, wimp?”

Elena giggled.

I snapped out of the daze. “Uh, no Sir, I … I’m sorry, it’s just habit, Sir.”

He kicked my head a second time. “Well, you better break that habit if you don’t want to be out on your ass.”

Elena sneered at me. “I told him — we can go get lawyers right now.”

“Nah, that won’t be necessary. Ol’ Rog is gonna be a good little fag. Aren’t you, Rog?”

I averted my eyes. “Y-yes, Sir.”

Kurt pushed up the sofa’s footstool, snapped his fingers, and pointed at his foot. I hurried to obey his unspoken command, removing his sock and lathering his foot with lotion while he cuddled with my wife.

“I can’t wait to give you your gift,” Elena chirped. “I’m not sure whether you’re going to like it, though. I think you will, but … ugh! I’m so scared you won’t.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it, honey,” Kurt replied. “Give me a hint.”

“No.”

“Is it bigger than a breadbox?”

“Maybe.”

“Does it have electronics in it?”

Elena punched her boyfriend’s arm. “I’m not telling you, damn it! Stop asking.”

Kurt smirked at me. “Your wife is a bitch, you know that?”

I replied with a fake half-smile and leaned into my work, vigorously rubbing lotion into the foot of the man who’d stolen my beloved Elena.

Kurt pulled my wife closer. “So, Rog, what are you gonna get me for Christmas?”

“Um, Sir, I don’t … I don’t have any money, Sir.”

“I know; your wife takes it all. Like I said, she’s a little bitch.” He kissed Elena on top of her head before turning back to me. “But that’s still no excuse for not getting me a gift. I’m the one who let you stick around when you begged Elena not to divorce you. And this is how you repay me?”

“I … I’m sorry, Sir, I didn’t …” I bit my lip and continued massaging my interrogator’s foot. “You’re right, Sir. I should’ve made you a gift. I’m so sorry.”

Elena glared at me. “Did you make me a gift? You better had.”

“Um, y-yes, I did.”

“Where is it?”

“In my gym bag.”

“Go get it.”

Wiping my hands on my pantlegs, I hurried to retrieve the wood plaque I’d spent hours carving and shellacking.

“Um, it still needs work; I wasn’t planning on giving it to you until Christmas,” I said as I handed her my lovingly crafted handiwork.

Elena smirked when she saw the inscription, and read it aloud in a mocking tone: “‘May you find happiness.’ Aw. Isn’t that sweet? You know what makes me happy, Roger?”

She turned and tongue-kissed her lover for a good 10 seconds before pulling away and leering at me.

“This man makes me happy, you pathetic fucking loser. A real man.” She tossed the plaque to the carpet. “Now, go throw that stupid shit in the garbage.”

Kurt cracked up. “Damn, girl, you’re cold,” he said before snapping his fingers at me. “Do what the little lady says, and then get back on these feet.”

I don’t know how I was able to toss my gift in the trash can without falling into convulsions, but in less than a minute I was back on my knees in front of Elena’s boyfriend, dry-eyed and rubbing lotion into his foot.

“So, Roger, we need to address your lack of gratitude.” Kurt wiggled his toes. “After Elena and me decided to take things to the next step in our relationship, who begged me to let you stay married to her?”

“Uh, I did, Sir.”

“Exactly. You did. And this is how you repay me? You thought to make your wife a Christmas present, but not me?” He pulled his foot from my hand and kicked me in the head again. “That’s pretty damned inconsiderate if you ask me.”

“I’m so sorry, Sir.”

Kurt snorted. “I don’t believe you. Are you really sorry?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then do you want to make it up to me?”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Great. Soooo, I’ve been thinking.” Kurt leaned back and stroked his chin. “Remember when you got down on your knees and said you’d do literally anything I wanted, as long as I didn’t make Elena divorce you?”

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as I answered in the affirmative.

“Well, then,” Kurt drawled. “How about you give me something special for Christmas? Something that’ll really show your gratitude?”

“Um … what, Sir?”

“Your balls.”

Blood drained from my face.

Elena hooted. “You mean have him castrated?”

“Fuck yes, have him castrated. I told you — I don’t like sharing you with another man, even if it is a fat fag like him. It’s why I made him move his shit to the garage; I don’t want some other guy being your roommate, especially your husband. I know you don’t love him — that’s not a problem. But it would make me feel a lot better if he was a eunuch.”

My wife smiled. “Well, if it would make you feel better, honey, then let’s have it done.”

I somehow managed to croak, “I … but … please don’t do that to me.”

“Oh, stop your whining.” Elena scoffed. “People lose their testicles all the time. It’s not like you need ‘em anyway.”

Kurt smirked and squeezed my wife’s tit through her shirt. “Yeah, Rog, don’t worry — I got that department well taken care of. Now, how about you get me a quick warmup on this coffee, and then do this other foot, so the ol’ girl and me can hit the road? We got a long drive ahead of us.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait for Mom and Dad to meet you,” Elena squealed to her boyfriend as I trudged toward the kitchen.

============

AFTER ELENA AND KURT left to spend Thanksgiving at her parents’ cabin in Aspen, I briefly considered crashing on the couch inside the nice, warm house. The garage could get awfully cold at night, and since I was home alone for a week, I could’ve slept on the sofa — or even in Elena’s bed — and nobody would’ve been the wiser.

I ultimately wimped out, though, reminding myself that Kurt had specifically ordered me to sleep in the garage. Even though he was hundreds of miles away, the thought of crossing him scared the shit out of me, so I lay on my cot all night cocooned in a horse blanket, shivering uncontrollably and worrying about my testicles.

Did Kurt seriously want me castrated, or was he merely trying to scare me? Was I honestly entertaining the notion of having my balls removed to keep my marriage intact? How did things get to the point where such an atrocity was even possible?

Sleep wouldn’t come. I was kept awake by an endless loop that played in my head of that fateful night when Kurt came into my life, and everything changed.

Up to that point, I’d been a pussywhipped, rich husband with a bitchy trophy wife, although because of my success in business, I’d never thought of myself as a beta bitch. My mother had abandoned me in a McDonald's bathroom when I was a baby, and I spent my entire life trying to achieve success, and prove to myself that I wasn’t a piece of trash.

At the same time, I desperately clung to the people in my life, especially Elena, afraid she might throw me away like my mom had.

But getting the shit kicked out of you by your wife’s lover while she cheers him on has a way of crystalizing the universe. It helps you see things how they really are.

I came to realize that only a beta bitch would’ve put up with Elena’s shit for six years like I had. From the beginning, I’d lavished her with gifts and affection ...

... but nothing was ever good enough. She rarely had a nice word to say to me, although she’d fake it during business functions, so as not to jeopardize her cash cow. She berated me in front of her friends, telling me how stupid I was, while making fun of my weight and my small penis.

Elena and I stopped having sex a few months after the wedding ...

... and she banished me to the couch because she said my snoring bothered her.

After our sex life evaporated, it quickly became obvious that my wife was running around on me — and it became obvious to her that I wasn’t going to do shit about it. She became more brazen, and would taunt me with innuendos about her infidelities if she’d had a few drinks.

Then came the night I’ll never forget, when I met Kurt for the first time.

I knew Elena had been dating someone regularly, and I’d overheard her on the phone telling friends how this guy was “special.”

But she had never brought home any of her lovers before, so I was caught completely off guard when the amorous, intoxicated couple stumbled through the front door while I was watching a nature show on TV.

I jumped off the couch. “What the fuck, Elena?”

Kurt snarled. “Watch how you talk to my woman, fat boy.”

“Who the fuck are you? This is my house, asshole!”

The muscular invader snatched me by the collar and started punching me in the face.

Amid the flurry of fists, I heard Elena say “Hell, yeah, kick his ass, baby.”

When Kurt was finally finished, he tossed me against the wall, which I hit with a dull thud before sinking to the floor.

Elena stepped into view.

“Me and Kurt are tired of sneaking around; we love each other, and we don’t care who knows it," she said. "This marriage is over, Roger. Now, when we draw up the divorce papers, I don’t want a whole bunch of—”

“Honey, God, no!” I struggled to my knees. “Please, don’t leave me, Elena, I’m begging you.”

Kurt jeered. “Can you believe this fucking guy?”

“I told you he’s a turd.” My wife sneered at me. “Wipe your nose, idiot; you’ll get blood everywhere.”

While I sopped up the stream with the back of my hand, Elena rained down verbal fire.

“I don’t love you, Roger. I love Kurt; I think it’s fairly obvious why. You’re a fat, ugly pig with a little dick.”

Kurt chortled. “Damn, girl, tell him how you really feel.”

“Oh, he already knows,” Elena replied. “Now, then, Roger, like I was saying, I don’t want some big fight over money. I know you can afford fancy lawyers, but I also know what I’m entitled to, so you might as well—”

“Honey, please don’t do this. PLEASE!! There’s no need for a d-divorce, I swear. We can stay together. You can keep on …” I glanced at the smirking Kurt. “Um, you guys can keep on seeing each other. I don’t mind. I’m begging you, Elena, you can do whatever you want — just, please don’t leave me!”

Elena cocked her head. “Why in the world would you want to stay married if I’m seeing Kurt openly?”

“Because he’s a fucking wimp,” my wife’s boyfriend answered with an amused glint in his eye.

“Why?” Elena persisted. “If I’m with Kurt, then why would you want to stay married? Isn’t that going to be embarrassing? We’re not going to hide our relationship, Roger.”

I hung my head. “Please … I … I can’t imagine what the world would be like if I didn’t have you to come home to.”

“What a fucking wuss.” Kurt smacked his lips. “Path-e-tic.”

Elena scoffed. “He’s got separation anxiety because his birth mom left him in the woman’s bathroom at McDonald’s when he was a baby.”

“Wow, no shit?” Kurt chuckled.

“I thought I told you that.”

“No, it’s the first I heard of it. Damn, I guess that would make someone desperate. That’s fucked up, dude.”

My wife rested her head on her lover’s shoulder and smirked down at me.

What a sight I must’ve made, kneeling there with my hands folded in front of me, with my left eye swollen shut and my nose bleeding.

Her green eyes cut through me. “Ask him.”

“Um, ask him what?”

Elena bared her teeth. “Ask him if we can stay married.”

I was unable to meet Kurt’s gaze when I turned his way. “Um, please, is it okay if she doesn’t get a divorce from me? I promise, I won’t stand in your guy’s way. You can keep on seeing each other, whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Um, y-yeah.”

“And why is that? What would you get out of this?”

“I … I love her.”

Kurt stepped forward and bitch-slapped me. “Not anymore, you don’t. She’s mine. I don’t ever want to hear you say that shit again. You hear?”

“Um, yeah, sorry, I … I won’t. Please, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Hmmmm … whatever I want.” Kurt played with Elena’s earring for several seconds, allowing the anticipation to build. “Well, Rog, for starters, if this is going to work, you need to think of things in a different way. She’s not your wife. She’s not your girl, your companion, your best friend, or someone to watch movies and eat popcorn with. She’s mine. You hear me, Fat-Ass? Let me hear you say it.”

“Um … she’s … she’s yours.”

“Damn straight, she is. You ain’t good enough for her, you fucking blob. She told me she never loved you; she married you for your money.” He guffawed. “But that’s not exactly the scoop of the century, is it? I mean, look at you.” He pointed to the foyer mirror. “Look at yourself, Roger. Now, look at this beautiful woman.”

He kissed my wife, making a loud popping sound. “Tell me, Roger: Are you good enough for her?”

“N-no.”

“Say it.”

“I’m … not good enough for her.”

Elena nodded. “You got that shit right.”

Kurt folded his arms. “Okay, if I let you stay married, we’ll have to lay down a few ground rules. First of all, you need to move your shit out to the garage; I know Elena already has you sleeping on the couch, but I don’t want you sleeping in the same house with her. You ain’t her goddamn roommate. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“You say ‘yes, Sir’ when I tell you to something,” Kurt snapped. “You hear me, fat boy?”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

Elena purred. “OMG, that is so fucking sexy. I need you to fuck me right now.”

And that’s exactly what happened. Without another word to me, Kurt dragged my wife upstairs.

I spent the next hour curled up on the living room floor, nursing my throbbing nose while listening to my wife’s screams and the headboard hammering the bedroom wall. Then, the house got quiet, and I realized the lovers had dozed off.

Sobbing, but nursing a throbbing boner, I grabbed a blanket, trudged to the garage and spent a sleepless first night in my new quarters.

I’ll never forget the sense of betrayal I felt hearing my wife tell her boyfriend how much it turned her on to watch him beat and humiliate me. I’ll also never forget the warm feeling that washed over me when I realized I’d had a hand in making Elena sexually excited, something I’d never been able to achieve before. As I listened to my beloved with get fucked like I never could dream of doing, I had never been hornier, and I felt like everything was how it was supposed to be, even if this strange, new erotic place really fucking sucked for me. There was no resisting its magnetic pull, no matter how much my rational side wanted to.

That was the moment when I accepted myself as a beta bitch, and realized that I could carve out a place for myself in Elena’s life where I actually contributed to her happiness and sexual satisfaction, as long as I put my pride aside and accepted what came. It was like getting a shot of morphine; I was instantly hooked on that calm feeling of acquiescence, and like many junkies, my addiction led me down a road of degradation and loss.

After that first night, Kurt came and went as he pleased, and whenever he wanted sex, he knew he could make his girlfriend horny by bullying me. Elena eventually gave Kurt his own key to our house, and he took to barging in at all hours, either to fuck my wife, to just hang out and watch TV, or both. I walked on eggshells whenever he was around, knowing at any minute he might slap me silly, trip me, give me a severe wedgie, or pull some other meanspirited trick to get my wife going.

When Kurt was gone, Elena paid very little attention to me. She’d always been bitchy, but after introducing me to her lover, she acted like I was an annoyance at best, ignoring me for the most part unless barking out an order. Sometimes, if she’d been drinking, she’d cut me to pieces by calling me all sorts of spineless wimps, but she otherwise treated me like a servant she didn’t trust.

We settled into a routine, and I learned to endure the humiliation at home while throwing myself into my job at the firm.

Still, although I’d adapted somewhat to the debasing new normal, I’d been dreading the holidays, because I knew Elena planned to leave me alone for a week while introducing her lover to her family at the cabin. None of my in-laws had liked me to start with, and I was mortified at the prospect of them learning that I’d begged to stay married while Elena and Kurt rubbed my nose in their relationship.

As it turned out, my fears were nothing compared to reality. On my first night of solitude, I had a hellova lot more than embarrassment and loneliness to worry about.

My main concern was my balls.

============

IN THE COLD, lonely darkness of the garage, I fondled them. Jiggled them. Hefted them. Rolled each one between my thumb and forefinger, exploring their shape and pliability.

My balls. My precious balls.

I curled up on my cot sobbing with Elena’s words echoing in my head:

“People lose their testicles all the time. It’s not like you need ‘em anyway.”

My beloved wife wasn’t wrong, I thought, since people routinely lose their testicles after medical issues, or because they choose to alter themselves that way. Elena was also right about there being no need for me to remain sexually viable, since she had absolutely no use for me in the sack, and I’d never think of cheating on her. When I thought about it logically, I couldn’t come up with a valid reason why I needed to continue producing sperm.

Still, they were my balls. My BALLS! Aside from the symbolism of losing my masculinity, I didn’t want any body parts lopped off, especially at the whim of some asshole who was fucking my wife.

Unfortunately, my wishes had never been a priority, especially when it came to Elena. And she was clearly in love with the macho asshole, and would go along with anything he wanted.

Life is about making choices, and in my situation, it all boiled down to one question: Would I rather hold onto my wife or my testicles?

Kurt had said he wanted me emasculated because he didn’t like the idea of sharing his woman with another man — even a “fat fag” like me. It surprised me when he said that; I didn’t think I presented any kind of challenge to him after he kicked my ass in front of my smirking wife.

Following that fateful evening, I always showed him the utmost respect when he came over. I spent hours in our driveway washing his truck while he was busy with Elena inside the house, and I often gave him long, relaxing foot rubs when they were finished in the bedroom.

Once a week, I’d drive straight from work to his apartment and spend all night cleaning it from top to bottom while he crashed at my place.

I desperately wanted to avoid reliving the humiliation of getting thrashed in Elena’s presence, so I called Kurt “sir” like he wanted, and I never questioned his orders, not even once. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. The more I did for him, the more he wanted — including demanding that I give him my balls as a macabre Christmas present.

My face was raw from crying as I lay in my cot in the garage going over the depressing situation from every angle. Finally, with new tears chafing my cheeks, I resolved to go through with it. I’d have the goddamn operation if that’s what it took to keep my wife from running off with the evil bastard. I held onto the hope that Kurt had been kidding, or was testing me to see if I was wimpy enough to actually do it, but if not, I promised myself that I’d be brave and see it through.

For her, I kept repeating. For her. For her.

I considered either calling or texting Elena to let her know I’d decided to acquiesce to her lover’s demand, although I decided against it. I knew she didn’t like to be bothered when she was with Kurt unless it was an emergency, so I figured my news would have to wait until they returned from Aspen.

The first two days of solitude dragged by. After work, there was nothing to do but mope around worrying about the fate of my balls, pining for my wife, and wondering what she and her boyfriend were doing at the cabin that had been in her family for 100 years. I pictured the amorous couple relaxing around the fireplace after a day on the slopes, chatting with Elena’s parents, Tom and Linda, and her two bitchy 20-year-old little twin sisters, Rachel and Taylor. Part of me longed to be there, but considering the company I’d be keeping besides Elena, I wasn’t so sure it would be worth it.

My in-laws had never liked me. I’d overheard Elena on the phone many times complaining about me to her mother, and I happened to be walking by the bedroom the night she broke the news to her mom that she was seeing other men because I was a “fat pig” who “disgusted” her. I’m sure Linda relayed that bit of gossip to her husband, and Tom’s lack of respect for me plummeted — and he’d never thought much of me in the first place. He and Linda were in great shape for being in their 50s, and they often berated me for my weight. But at least they didn’t constantly call me “lard-ass” the way Rachel and Taylor did. My sisters-in-law openly made fun of me and nobody stopped them. I loathed visits to that hateful family home, although whenever Elena wanted to visit her folks, I had no say in the matter and would obediently tag along, and endure the abuse with a smile.

Three days after Elena’s departure, she sent me a text that thrilled and crushed me at the same time:

============

MY MOUTH WATERED as I watched a woman take a bite of the hamburger that she’d purchased from the bus terminal’s concession stand. With a sigh, I added hunger to my list of miseries.

The last of the food I’d prepared for my long Greyhound journey had been devoured hours earlier, but I had no cash and didn’t dare use my debit card to buy a snack, since my wife didn’t like me spending money without permission unless it was an absolute emergency. So, I sat on a bench at the front of the station listening to my grumbling stomach, rising every few minutes to fill up with water from the drinking fountain.

I’d been cooling my heels for more than two hours after sending Elena a text letting her know I’d arrived in Aspen. Feeling totally alone and wondering why in the world I’d been summoned, I watched the crowd, which was mostly college kids lugging ski equipment, happy families, and grubby drifters.

When people-watching became boring, I fumbled around in my gym bag for the paperback I’d brought. My spirits soared when my fingers found a candy bar that I’d forgotten about. Elena didn’t allow me to splurge on luxuries, especially food (since she was always on my ass about losing weight), but after our office Halloween party a few weeks earlier, I’d smuggled a Cadbury bar home and threw it in my bag so she wouldn’t see it.

With a satisfied smile, I leaned back on the bench and savored the chocolatey goodness, relieved that something had finally gone my way.

A familiar voice snapped me back to reality:

“FIGURES YOU’D BE STUFFING YOUR FAT FACE.”

My father-in-law’s rude greeting made me jump, and I almost dropped the candy bar. “Uh, hey, Tom.”

“Hey, there. Looks like you’ve put on a few pounds — you sure you need that?”

“I … uh …”

The older man snapped his fingers. “All right, I ain’t got time for a bunch of bullshit. Grab your bag and let’s go.”

Tom had always been gruff with me, but he seemed to be treating me particularly discourteously. With a pounding heart, I followed him out of the bus station and hopped into his SUV’s passenger side.

My father-in-law twisted the ignition key and revved the motor. “You’re probably wondering why my daughter told you to come out here.”

I nodded.

Tom snorted. “Well, it sure as hell ain’t because she wanted to spend the holidays with you, that’s for sure.” He leered. “Kurt’s something else, ain’t he? My daughter finally found a real man. They’re totally in love with each other. I knew it would happen sooner or later, since she never loved you — but I didn’t figure you’d want to stay married to her. What the hell’s up with that?”

I hunched forward in the passenger’s seat. “Uh, I dunno, Tom, I, uh … I just want her in my life.”

“Kurt says he has you sleeping in the garage?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“And he makes you call him ‘sir?’”

My ears burned. “Y-yeah.”

Tom shook his head. “Elena says he kicked the shit out of you. And then, you got on your knees with your nose all bleeding and begged her not to leave you.”

I didn’t know how to reply. My wife had clearly told her folks everything, and it was beyond mortifying hearing the events of that life-changing evening relayed back to me by someone who’d always made it clear that he didn’t think I was good enough for his daughter.

Tom put the SUV in drive and we rolled out of the bus station parking lot. “Well, you are one pathetic sonofabitch, that’s all I can say,” he mused. “I always knew you was a wimp … but, DAMN. You’re about a spineless motherfucker, you know that?”

I jammed my hands under my knees and said nothing.

“What kind of man lets his wife have a boyfriend, and flaunt it right in front of his face?”

Still unable to conjure up an answer, I shrugged.

“Well, Elena is right — you are a fat turd who needs to be taken advantage of, if you’re gonna put yourself in that position. Which brings me to why we needed you out here. We were planning on having Thanksgiving dinner in the cabin, but the damn water main burst the other day while we were out skiing, so we’ve been staying in a motel. Kurt says he can fix the break with the tools I’ve got in the back— because he’s not useless like you are — but the pipe is about 15 feet underground, and it’s a motherfucker of a job to dig that deep. We can’t hire anyone to do it on short notice so close to the holiday, and Kurt doesn’t want to spend two days digging. So, Elena says you’d be glad to do it.”

My jaw dropped. “Uh … you … she wants me to dig a hole?”

“Well, she sure as hell don’t want to share a drumstick with you and look into your eyes, does she? I think she’s found the love of her life, don’t you think?” Tom chuckled. “It’s gonna be a bitch getting that hole dug before Thursday, but maybe it’ll knock some weight off your ass.”

My father-in-law turned on the radio and blasted a Johnny Cash song, making it impossible to continue the conversation.

The song, “Cry, Cry, Cry” reminded me of my early marriage to Elena:

Everybody knows where you go when the sun goes down

I think you only live to see the lights of town

I wasted my time when I would try, try, try

When the lights have lost their glow you're gonna cry, cry, cry

I lie awake at night to wait till you come in

You stay a little while and then you're gone again

Every question that I ask I get a lie, lie, lie

For every lie you tell you're gonna cry, cry, cry

Listening to that song reminded me of the days when I’d sit at home alone sobbing, knowing my beloved wife was out fucking around on me, and thinking that eventually she’d see the error of her ways and do some crying of her own. But that was before I’d accepted that I was a beta bitch, and had resigned myself to being Elena’s doormat so I could keep her in my life. In this new paradigm, Elena wasn’t doing me wrong — she was taking what was rightfully hers. My job was to keep her happy, and do things like spend six hours on a Greyhound bus, and toil for two days digging a hole in the freezing cold so she could enjoy Thanksgiving dinner in her family cabin.

My mind was such a jumble as the SUV rumbled down the freeway, I totally forgot about my testicle situation. All I could think about was seeing my wife again when we arrived at the cabin.

Alas, it was not to be; when we pulled up to the sprawling rustic dwelling, Kurt was alone when he came outside to greet us.

“Well, well, if it ain’t ol’ Tubby McGoo,” my wife’s lover said with a smirk as I exited the SUV. “You ready to do some digging, fat boy?”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

Tom grinned. “Boy, Kurt, you got this chubby bastard scared to death. His whole attitude changed as soon as you came out here.”

“Nah, Tubby’s not scared.” Kurt leaned forward and roughly tousled my hair, making me wince. “We just got a little understanding between us — ain’t that right, Rog?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Kurt patted my cheek. “Attaboy. Now, grab that shovel over there and follow me.”

As always, I obeyed, securing the tool he’d pointed to and trailing behind the two alpha males as they led me to a clearing in the back of the cabin.

Kurt drew an X in the snow with his boot. “Right there. I need a 15-foot hole dug; six feet wide all around.” He nodded at a nearby toolbox. “There’s a tape measure in there. Once you get down below 12 feet, you need to go easy so you don’t damage the pipe.”

“Be careful, too — my great-grandfather laid that pipe with his own hands,” Tom warned.

I nodded.

“Acknowledge him when he speaks to you, Fat-Ass,” Kurt snapped.

“Y-yes, Sir,” I said to my sneering father-in-law.

Kurt pointed to the X. “You can get it done by Wednesday, but you’re gonna have to bust your ass. There’s some food for you in a basket in the kitchen, and coffee, which you’re gonna need. You’ll need to space that food out, because that’s all you’re gonna get. Don’t be eating what’s in there for Thanksgiving; you get what’s in the basket and nothing else. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I want at least half this job done by tomorrow morning. That’s seven-and-a-half feet. Let’s make it 8 feet. I’ll come by at 9 or so to check, so you better have it done. You hear me, fat boy?”

“Um, y-yes, Sir.”

Tom chortled. “You’ll probably be out here till 4 in the morning to get that done, especially with that frozen ground. But there’s a lantern in the shed; there’s no reason you can’t keep digging in the dark. And the ground will get softer as you go down.”

“Maybe it’ll take some weight off his ass,” Kurt remarked with a sneer.

“That’s exactly what I said!” Tom clapped my wife’s lover on the back. “Great minds think alike.”

Without another word my way, the two men strolled toward the front of the cabin chatting amicably.

There were tears in my eyes as I started pecking at the frozen ground with the shovel.

============

WHEN THE FIRST sliver of daylight peeked over the tree line, I mustered every ounce of energy left in my aching, exhausted body and started shoveling like a madman. I wasn’t sure of the time, or how deep the hole was, since it had been a while since I’d measured. But I knew there was a lot more digging to do, so I pushed myself to go faster, fearful of incurring Kurt’s wrath if I didn’t make my deadline.

Thankfully, my father-in-law had been correct when he said the soil would get softer as I dug deeper. Since the ground was frozen, it took five hours to excavate just two feet, and I was scared to death I wouldn’t get the job done by 9 the next morning. But the task got easier and I made good time, working through the night and stopping only for three coffee-slash-bathroom breaks, and to wolf down a paltry dinner.

The refrigerator in the cabin was stocked with provisions for the upcoming Thanksgiving feast, although Kurt had told me I was restricted to eating what was in the basket on the kitchen floor: A banana, two apples and a small can of tuna. I ate half the tuna, half the banana and one of the apples for supper, deciding to save the rest for breakfast when I’d finished the job, since I wasn’t sure when I’d get another chance to eat after that.

Digging a hole in the winter was backbreaking work, but it still left time to think about my depressing situation, so to quiet the voices in my head, I started singing at the top of my lungs. The cabin was in the middle of nowhere, so I wasn’t worried about being heard by human ears.

What a sight I must have been, digging at dusk by lanternlight as fast as I could, while warbling out of tune like a deranged idiot.

At sunrise, I measured how deep I’d dug, and was shocked that I’d already gone down 9 feet, exceeding Kurt’s order by a full foot. With a self-satisfied smile, I wandered into the cabin and peered at the coo-coo clock above the sprawling stone fireplace. It was just before 7, meaning I had a full two hours to eat the rest of my food and relax.

Then, like a true wimp, I started second-guessing myself. Kurt had told me to dig 8 feet, and I wondered whether he’d get mad that I’d not followed his order to the letter, rather than being pleased that I’d gone the extra mile. In the end, my beta instincts took over, and, playing it safe, I threw dirt back in the hole until it measured 8 feet exactly.

With the first part of the job finally done, I trudged back into the nice, warm cabin and curled up on the couch. I had worked for 18 hours straight, and was absolutely wiped out, so it took only a few seconds to fall into dreamland, where visions of my beloved Elena floated through the blackness …. the softness of her hair … her dazzling, ultra-white smile … her incredible, curvaceous body … the sound of her voice …

“COMFY, ARE WE??”

The masculine bark jolted me awake.

Kurt stood over me frowning. “Who the hell said you could sleep on the couch, fat boy?”

I jumped to my feet. “S-sorry, Sir.”

Tom shook his head. “What a wimp.”

“You got that right.” Kurt pointed toward the back of the cabin. “Did you get that hole dug like I told you to?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Eight feet?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He patted me on the head. “See? You ain’t totally useless.”

That got a laugh out of my father-in-law. “Oh, I don’t know Kurt — Elena says he’s pretty useless.”

Kurt waved his hand. “Nah, Tubby’s good for a lot of stuff. Ain’t you, Tubby?”

“Uh, um, I think so.”

“Tell Tom what you’re good at.”

I worked my tongue around the inside of my mouth. “I … well, I’m pretty good at predicting stock trends.”

Tom scoffed. “Yeah, that fancy job is the only reason my daughter married you. I must’ve heard 10 people at your wedding say ‘she’s only with him for his money.’ It wasn’t exactly some huge secret, was it?”

“Um … I guess not.”

Kurt smacked me upside the head. “Call him ‘sir’ when you answer him, Fat-Ass.”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, rubbing my noggin.

Tom nodded regally. “I knew Elena would end up leaving you someday. My little girl is a free spirit, and she can’t be tied down forever to a man she doesn’t love, money or not. I’m proud of her — and I’m sure as hell glad she met Kurt here. My Elena finally got the kind of man she deserves, instead of a fat piece of shit like you.”

“Aw, shucks, Tom, Roger’s not so bad.” Kurt regarded me with a twinkle in his eye. “He’s good at more than stocks and bonds shit. He’s a great little maid — ain’t you?”

“Uh, yes, Sir.”

“My shoes have never shined so good.”

“Um, thank you, Sir.”

“I have him come over to my place once a week to clean,” Kurt explained.

My father-in-law rolled his eyes. “I still can’t get over what kind of a man allows this shit. I always knew this fat bastard wasn’t much, but I never realized anyone could be so fucking pathetic.”

Kurt leaned in closer to his older companion. “You want to know how pathetic he really is?”

Tom leered. “Sure. I can only imagine.”

Kurt grinned. “I’m making him give me his balls for Christmas.”

Tom’s eyes got big. “Say, what? His balls?”

“Yeah, I want him to be a eunuch. I don’t trust him living with Elena otherwise, even if he is sleeping in the garage. It’ll be like the old Roman emperor days, when they had eunuchs serving their queens.”

It was all I could do to keep from crying when I realized Kurt hadn’t been kidding — he really wanted me to go through with the orchiectomy.

My father-in-law turned to me. “And you’re actually gonna do this to yourself?”

I hung my head. “Y-yes.”

“You are one pathetic piece of shit, you know that?” Tom spat in my face.

Kurt cracked up. “Bullseye!”

While the two men laughed at me, I stood there like an oaf, tears mingling with my father-in-law’s spittle.

Kurt touched Tom’s sleeve. “Hey, don’t tell Elena I told you, okay? She wasn’t sure we should let you and Linda know; she was scared you guys might think it’s too weird.”

“Elena worries too much — she was afraid we wouldn’t accept you and Fat-Ass here all living together, too, but we’re not as old-fashioned as she thinks. As long as Linda’s friends don’t hear about it, she won’t care.”

“Well, I appreciate it. I really do love your daughter, Tom, and I wanted this all to be okay with you and Linda.”

“I can tell you love her — I knew as soon as I saw you two together. And Linda, she just adores you, and she loves how happy you make Elena. It always bothered us that she married for money, because we knew she wasn’t happy with fuck-face over there.”

His words hit me like a right cross to the jaw, since all I’d ever wanted was to make my wife happy. But seeing how blissful she was with Kurt had also caused me to accept myself as a beta bitch, submit to them both and support their relationship — even if it meant heartache and humiliation for me.

Tom looked at me. “So, how are you gonna have it done? The operation?”

“I … uh, I haven’t really thought about it, Sir.”

“Well, you damn well better start thinking about it,” Kurt snapped. “Set something up with one of them doctors. Say you want to become a woman or something.”

“OMG, can you imagine this fat fuck as a woman?” Tom made a face.

“Oh, I dunno.” Kurt rubbed his chin dramatically. “Some guys like them mushy butt-cheeks.”

The quip caused Tom to choke from laughing so hard.

Kurt clapped twice. “All right, Tubby, come out back and show us the hole you dug.”

I felt proud as I led my wife’s lover and my father-in-law out of the cabin and across the snow toward the site of my toil — especially when Kurt smiled upon seeing my handiwork.

“Nice job, Tubs.” He clapped me on the back. “Now, you get to do the rest. You have until 3 to get it done — we’ll be back from the motel by then, and I can get that pipe fixed before sundown, so everyone can crash here and have a nice Thanksgiving tomorrow. You hear me, fat boy? Three o’clock.”

“Yes, Sir.”

As Kurt and Tom started to walk away, I cleared my throat. “Uh … Sir?”

Kurt stopped in his tracks. “What, Tubby?”

“Um, Sir … is there anything I can eat for lunch?”

“You ate what I left you in the basket already?”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

Kurt turned to Tom. “I dunno, what do you think? Does Tubs here deserve some lunch?”

Tom shook his head. “Nah, fuck him. He obviously ain’t starving.”

Kurt smirked at me and shrugged. “Sorry, Roger. No soup for you! Now, get to digging.”

The two men strolled toward the front of the cabin laughing. I bit back tears and muttered ‘fuck you’ under my breath at my hateful father-in-law before grabbing the shovel and attacking the soil with a vengeance.

After working out my frustrations on Mother Earth, it dawned on me that my beloved Elena would be arriving at the cabin at 3 o’clock, which was why I had to be finished by then. I didn’t even care that her bitch of a mother and her two evil little sisters would be coming, too — I dug the rest of the hole with a smile on my face.

I ached to see my wife so badly I didn’t think about my balls once.

============

I FINISHED DIGGING a half-hour early, although I didn’t repeat my mistake of sleeping on the couch, opting instead to lie down on a row of logs in the woodshed. It was a hard, lumpy bed, but it did the trick. I furiously rubbed my arms and torso in an effort to get warm while I waited for my wife, her lover and her family to return. Eventually, I buried my nose in my coat and, using my gym bag as a pillow, I dozed off.

It was getting dark when I finally opened my eyes, and I slogged to the cabin to see what time it was. I was surprised that it was almost 6. When it occurred to me that Elena and her folks were nearly three hours late, worry crept in.

With my head full of dire possibilities, I trudged back to the woodshed to wait. Just as I was starting to think something terrible had happened, I heard the crunch of tires on snow, and rushed outside to see my wife’s Range Rover trailing Tom and Linda’s SUV up the lengthy driveway. I noticed Kurt was driving my wife’s vehicle — something she’d never dream of letting me do, unless it was to run to the gas station to fill up the tank.

I stood near the cabin entrance with my hands folded nervously in front of me as the vehicles rolled to a stop.

Rachel, my wife’s 20-year-old sister, smirked when she exited her parents’ SUV. “Well, well, if it isn’t ol’ Lard-Ass.”

“Jeez, I think he’s gained another 20-30 pounds,” her twin Taylor added with a snort.

Kurt, whose arm was draped around my wife, winked at me. “Looks like your fan club is here! Did you get that hole dug, Tubby?”

“Y-yes …” I glanced around at everyone, mortified, before spitting out the required second word: “… Sir.”

Taylor’s eyes lit up. “Dang, Elena, you weren’t kidding — he has to call him ‘sir.’”

“OMG that’s hilarious,” Rachel said, holding her gloved hand over her mouth.

Linda shook her head and stared me down. “You always were a wimpy little creep, weren’t you?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer, although I knew I’d better say something, so I muttered, “um, yes … Ma’am.”

Kurt popped his lips. “That’s a good boy — call the men ‘sir’ and the ladies ‘ma’am.’”

Rachel crinkled her nose. “Eww, I don’t want to be called, ‘ma’am;’ that sounds like an old lady. Call me ‘miss’ — got it, Lard-Ass?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Me, too,” her sister said.

“Yes, Miss.”

The twins grinned at each other.

“He has to call us ‘miss,’” Taylor giggled.

Rachel clapped her hands three times an inch from my nose. “What do you say when I tell you something, Lard-Ass?”

“Uh, y-yes, Miss.”

Everyone got a chuckle out of Little Miss Priss exercising her newfound power. When the mirth faded, Kurt glanced up at the darkening sky.

“Too bad about that avalanche; it’s a wonder we got here as fast as we did with all the roads closed,” my wife’s lover said. “There’s not much daylight left to get that damn pipe done now.”

Tom nodded toward me. “Have fuckface hold the lantern.”

“Good idea,” Kurt said. “Go get the lantern, Tubby.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Taylor giggled. “I love how he calls you ‘sir.’ You can tell he’s scared to death of you.”

“Well, after the way Elena said he mopped up the floor with the lard-ass, I don’t blame him for being scared,” Rachel said, letting me know that my wife had relayed the humiliating events of that fateful evening to her whole family. “Kurt’s got muscles, and Lard-Ass has got … well, lard.”

“Hey, Kurt, can you beat him up for us?” Taylor asked with a wicked grin.

“Ooh, yeah, can you?” her sister oozed.

Kurt chuckled and turned to Tom and Linda. “Your daughters are crazy.”

“I know,” Linda said, curling her lip at me. “But I’ve got to be honest — I wouldn’t mind seeing you slap the idiot around a little myself. I never could stand him.”

I just stood there with my head down, trying not to cry. Elena’s family had never hidden the fact that they didn’t care much for me, although with Kurt in the picture, openly seeing my wife and exposing me as a weakling with no self-esteem, my in-laws clearly felt unfettered to abuse me as they saw fit.

“Beat him up for us,” Taylor repeated.

Kurt smacked me on the back of the skull. “I’m gonna do just that if he don’t get his fat ass in gear and go get that lantern like I told him to 20 minutes ago. Then, go get the toolbox out of the back of Tom’s SUV, Tubby, and bring it out back.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said before scurrying away rubbing my head.

Taylor scoffed. “What a wuss.”

After the ladies filed into the cabin, Kurt and Tom headed toward the huge hole I’d dug. My wife’s lover, who’d been in construction for years, jumped into the pit and began working on the broken water pipe while Tom handed him tools and helped in other ways. I stood there like a statue holding up the lantern. There wasn’t much conversation because Kurt wanted to get the job done quickly and go to sleep, having been stuck in traffic for hours. Less talk meant fewer jibes at me, so while my arm got extremely tired from holding the lantern aloft, I appreciated the silence.

When the pipe was finally fixed, Tom helped Kurt out of the hole.

“Okay, Tubby, now you need to fill that back up,” my wife’s lover said, pointing to the pile of soil. “Then, you can go.”

Tom laughed. “You’re gonna make him walk to the bus station? That’s 25 miles away.”

“Well, I ain’t driving him — I’m tired. You gonna drive him?”

“Fuck no; I’m beat,” Tom said.

My heart sank. I had only seen my beloved wife for a few seconds, and for some reason, I’d entertained hopes of getting to hang out with her. I was more upset about the prospect of not spending time with Elena than the long walk. I bit my lip and tried not to cry.

Then, Tom saved my ass.

“Actually, I forgot — Linda was going to ask you guys if your chubby little bitch here could stick around until after Thanksgiving dinner; she said it would be nice to have someone to clean up and do the dishes for a change.”

Kurt shrugged. “Sure; I don’t care.”

I again bit my lip, although this time it was to tamp down a smile.

I was quickly brought back to earth when Tom asked, “Where’s he gonna sleep? I know Linda don’t want him on the couch.”

Kurt shrugged a second time. “I dunno. He can sleep in the shed, I guess.”

Tom chuckled. “Perfect.”

The two men walked away without another word my way.

I was too tired to cry. After two days of digging, I slept like a baby on my bed of hard logs.

============

I WASN’T in much of a holiday mood when I awoke in the woodshed Thanksgiving morning. My entire body ached from two days of digging, and sleeping on hard logs hadn’t helped. I couldn’t feel my toes and feared they were frostbitten, although after I roused myself and stomped around the shed for a few minutes, the feeling returned to my lower extremities.

It was still dark and all was quiet. I ventured out of the woodshed and peeked at the cabin; no lights were on. With a lonesome sigh, I scooped up a handful of snow and ate it before tiptoeing toward the woods, treading lightly so the crunch of footsteps on snow wouldn’t wake anyone. When I was a safe distance away, I took my morning leak, and then used more virgin snow to wash up and brush my teeth.

Then, it was back to the woodshed to wait. And think. And worry. And hate myself.

I sat on a log near the shed door, which I left open a crack so I could see the cabin, which was about 50 yards away. It was too dark to read the book I’d brought, and I didn’t want to fiddle with my cellphone because the battery was low, so I closed my eyes and thought of Elena. I smiled when I recalled how pretty she’d looked the previous day in her white coat and the cute, furry hat she always wore in cold weather. I felt a twinge of sadness when I realized I’d only gotten a chance to see her for a few seconds, and she hadn’t said a word to me.

Like a lovesick teenager, I groaned out loud and gazed longingly at the cabin, aching from the knowledge that my precious wife was sleeping just half-a-football-field away.

I wondered which pajamas she had on while curled up in bed — and as soon as that picture tickled my imagination, my mind’s eye immediately saw her pig of a boyfriend snuggled up next to her. I felt like the world’s most pathetic sap, freezing my ass off in the woodshed while my wife and her lover were nice and warm together beneath a fluffy comforter.

The hours crept by. I kept eating snow to try to quell my gnawing hunger. It got so bad I ventured into the woods to seek nourishment, but was unable to find anything, even a few berries, so I ended up breaking off pieces of a pine comb and chewing them. It made my mouth gummy but my stomach remained empty.

Finally, lights started flickering on inside the cabin. It was probably 20 minutes before the backdoor swung open, and Tom walked outside yawning and scratching his balls. After sucking in a few breaths of morning air, he shouted, “Hey, Fat-Ass — Linda wants you!”

I stumbled out of the woodshed and hurried toward the cabin, where a smirking Tom held the door open.

“Did you get a good night’s sleep out in the shed?” he asked in a snarky tone as I approached him.

I knew it wouldn’t be wise to complain, so I replied, “Um, it was okay, Sir. I used my gym bag as a pillow, so it wasn’t so bad.”

He scoffed and headed back inside with me at his heels. I’d spent so much time alone pining for company, I was overwhelmed with awkwardness as I slogged into the spacious cabin, where everyone was up and at ‘em. Elena and Kurt chilled on the couch sipping coffee, while Rachel and Taylor sat at the dining room table engrossed in their smartphones. Linda was in the kitchen rummaging through the refrigerator. Nobody looked up when Tom and I walked in.

“Go see what Linda wants,” my father-in-law ordered, and I headed toward the kitchen.

As I passed the dining room table, Taylor saw me and pointed to her half-empty glass of orange juice. “Hey, Lard-Ass, how about a refill?”

“Yes, Miss,” I muttered, scooping up the 20-year-old’s glass and rushing toward the kitchen.

“There you are,” Linda said when I entered the room. “I’ll be working on dinner, but go see what everyone wants for breakfast. You can cook that.”

“Um, yes, Ma’am. Is it okay if I refill Miss Taylor’s orange juice first?”

Linda nodded and I hopped into action. After setting Taylor’s glass in front of her, I figured I’d do some brown-nosing in case Elena was paying attention from the living room, so I asked, “Will there be anything else, Miss?”

Rachel giggled. “I still can’t believe he has to call us ‘miss.’”

“It’s about basic respect — or lack thereof,” Kurt called from his spot on the couch as he pulled my wife closer into his embrace. “As far as I’m concerned, he PUT himself in a position where he doesn’t deserve any respect, so I think it’s appropriate that he show others the utmost respect. What do you think, Rog? Do you deserve any respect?”

I bowed my head. “No, Sir.”

“Stand up straight!” Kurt barked. “Look everyone in the eye and tell them you don’t deserve any respect.”

My soul left my body as I complied with the order. Seeing the disgust on Elena’s face was pure torture.

Desperate to change the subject, I croaked, “um, Miss Linda told me to see what everyone wants for breakfast.”

Taylor’s nose crinkled. “Eww, are you cooking it?”

“Y-yes, Miss.”

“Then, make sure you wash first.”

“Um, yes, Miss.”

When the guffaws died down, I took everyone’s orders. Kurt wanted bacon and eggs. My wife ordered an omelet, and her sisters each wanted sausage and hashbrowns. I hurried to the kitchen to wash up and start cooking, while Linda stood nearby preparing the holiday meal.

My poor, empty stomach was groaning the blues around all that food, and after slaving over the stove for several minutes, I finally worked up the courage to ask my mother-in-law, “Um, is it okay if I make something for myself? I haven’t had anything to eat in two days.”

Linda scoffed. “It doesn’t look like you’re exactly starving, Roger. Yeah, go ahead — one egg, and some cottage cheese. You don’t need any more than that.”

“T-thank you, Ma’am,” I replied, wondering to be happy or sad. One goddamn egg and some cottage cheese?! It was something, I told myself.

After cooking and serving breakfast, I wolfed down my meager meal in the kitchen. When I was finished, I ventured back to the dining room, and into a scene straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting: The happy family at the holiday table. I stood there feeling totally left out.

Then, I was literally left out, when my wife snarled at me and said, “I don’t want to look at you all day. Mom wants you to clean up after dinner, but until then, go back in the shed. If anyone needs anything, we’ll call.”

Biting my quivering lip, I peeped, “Y-yes, Ma’am.”

Taylor shook her head. “Man, I never thought anyone could be so pathetic.”

Kurt snorted. “Roger wrote the book on pathetic, didn’t you, Rog?”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

My wife’s lover nodded regally. “Now, get your fat ass out in the shed like Elena told you.”

Rachel tittered. “That’s just not fair — it looks cold out there.”

As I trudged out the door, I heard Taylor scoff and say, “Nah, Lard-Ass has all that whale blubber to keep him warm. He’ll be fine.”

I left the cabin to the sound of humiliating laughter.

============

DURING MY HOURS of solitude in the woodshed, the firewood logs were my only friends. I picked a specimen with bark that resembled a grumpy old man’s face and named him Johnny. We had a raw, honest conversation that ended in tears.

“Why does my wife hate me so much, Johnny?”

“That’s an easy one, dickhead. She doesn’t respect you. Why should she? From the very beginning, you’ve let her treat you like a doormat.”

“Well, look at me, Johnny! I’m overweight … unattractive … I had to put up with it if I wanted to hold on to a woman like her.”

“So, you let her walk all over you? Have affairs right under your nose? Insult you in front of her friends? There are more fish in the sea, Roger. Why didn’t you dump the bitch and find someone who wouldn’t treat you that way?”

“I … I don’t know. Shit. I don’t know, okay?”

“Yes, you do, Roger. You do know.”

“I don’t.”

“Who do you think you’re fooling? This is me you’re talking to. You NEED to be treated like shit. You crave it. You blame yourself for your mother leaving you in that McDonald’s bathroom when you were a baby. You think you did something wrong and deserve to be punished.”

“No! Damn it!!”

“She dumped you like trash, Roger. Gar-BAGE. So, you deserve to be treated like trash. Right?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“All your life, you’ve tried to run from it — studied hard in school, got a high-status job, married the perfect trophy wife — but deep down, you’ve always known. Your mother thought you were trash. She threw you away because you ARE trash.”

“HEY, FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!!! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? YOU CAN’T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!! AND WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW, ANYWAY??? YOU’RE A GODDAMN TREE TRUNK!!”

“Now, now, Roger. Calm down. We both know I struck a nerve. But that’s no reason to fly off the handle here. That’s not helping at all.”

“I … I know. Sorry. Okay, okay, I’m trash, alright? I know what I am. I’m a beta bitch. A goddamn, lousy beta bitch. I finally admitted it to myself after Asshole came into the picture.”

“That’s no way to talk about your master, Roger. You’d better wrap your mind around the fact that he’s here to stay, and he’s only letting you stick around because he’s a fucking bully, and he enjoys making you his little toady. He’s even going to make you cut off your balls. Your BALLS, Roger. How can you agree to such a thing?”

“I … I keep thinking he’s just bluffing.”

“He’s not. You know that, Rog. He wants your balls and you’ll have to go through with it. And Elena’s not going to help; she’s madly in love with him, and she’ll go along with anything he does. So, if you want to stay married to that spiteful cunt of yours, you need to—”

“Come on, Johnny, please don’t talk about Elena that way. I know she can be mean to me sometimes—”

“Sometimes?!”

“Well, okay, she’s a bitc … um, she’s the b word when it comes to me.”

“You can’t even bring yourself to call her a bitch, can you?”

“No. No, I can’t. I love her.”

“You’re a sap, you know that, Roger?”

“I … I … yeah. I know.”

“What is it about Elena that you love so much?”

“I …”

“Don’t bother, Roger. We both know. Being married to such a beautiful woman lets you pretend you’re not trash, even though she’s spent the past six years showing you that you’re nothing but. And, you’re so clingy from being abandoned as a baby, once you started a relationship with her, you were going to try to hold onto that, no matter what. That’s why you’re putting up with all this bullshit. All this humiliation. You love it. You need it. Right?”

“Um … yeah. Right.”

“Look at yourself, Roger. You’re so desperate to not be abandoned again, you’re allowing your wife to make a goddamn fool out of you in public. It was one thing when she was quietly having extramarital affairs. She told her close friends, and you knew, too, but at least you had a shred of dignity. But now that she’s openly seeing Kurt, it’s like the whole world knows you’re nothing but trash and should be treated as such.”

“Ugh. I know. I swear, it’s like I have ‘trash’ tattooed on my forehead.”

“You pretty much do. A big fucking ‘T,’ right on your forehead. Look at how Elena’s family were all so eager to embrace treating you like shit. They never did like you much, and the twins always teased you about your weight when they were younger. But they’ve taken it to a new level. They’re being downright evil.”

“Tell me about it.”

“That’s because they now know the real you, Roger — the you who needs to be sitting out here in the cold like some pathetic, fat, puppy dog, waiting for your masters to call you. You’re a joke, you know that? An overweight, sunken-chinned, tiny-dicked joke.”

“Jeez, Johnny, do you have to be such an asshole? Look, I know my life is shit, okay? I know nobody respects me anymore. I know I’m fat and ugly. But cut me a break, why don’t you?”

“You don’t deserve a break, you stupid, lowlife bastard. You don’t deserve a goddamn thing. Don’t even try to fool me — you know you’re a grubby piece of shit. So, you need to start thinking like one. Otherwise, stop whining, man the fuck up and get out of here. Use your debit card to call an Uber to the airport, get your ass home and start your life over. Dump that bitch.”

“I … I can’t. I can’t.”

“Then, you don’t deserve any kind of break. Do you, Lard-Ass?”

“I … I …”

“DO YOU?”

“N-no, Sir.”

“Pfft. Stupid, fat bastard. You’ve got no self-respect whatsoever, do you?”

“No, Sir.”

“Damn straight, you don’t. Now, sit there and freeze while she’s in the cabin, nice and warm with her boyfriend and her family, not even thinking of your sorry ass. I’ve got to run. Goodbye, Lard-Ass — enjoy the rest of your sad, pathetic life.”

“No!! Wait!!! Johnny!!! Come back!! Please!!! Don’t go!!! You can insult me some more!!! Say whatever you want, I don’t mind! Please, come back, Johnny. Please don’t leave me, too!!! DON’T YOU LEAVE ME, TOO!!! PLEASE COME BACK!!! COMMMMMMEEE BAAAAACCCCKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I wiped the tears from my eyes with the back of my mitten, which was torn from having snagged it on the shovel during my grueling digging job. The logs were silent and I found myself all alone again.

The agonizing hours ticked by. I did jumping-jacks to stay warm, and passed time by counting the rings in the logs, since we were no longer on speaking terms. I’d finished the book I’d brought, and my cellphone’s battery was nearly dead, so if I wanted to take my mind off my shitty situation, my options were limited.

As luck would have it, Tom finally called for me while I was in the woods taking a dump. I hurriedly wiped my ass with a handful of snow and rushed toward the cabin feeling both elated and scared shitless at the same time.

============

THE SMELL OF TURKEY with all the trimmings overwhelmed me when I stepped into the warm cabin, and my mouth literally watered while my poor, empty stomach groaned a woeful cello sonata.

Tom led me to the living room, where the rest of the family chilled in the warmth of the huge stone fireplace. The idyllic scene once again made me feel like a total outsider and the world’s biggest loser.

Linda scoffed when she saw me walk in. “You look like shit, Roger. Go back outside and use some snow to do something with your hair; it’s sticking up all over the damn place. Then, get back in here and set the table. I’m done cooking; you’re gonna do the rest of the work, including serving dinner and cleaning up.”

“Y-yes, Ma’am.”

Taylor made a sour face. “Make sure you wash,” she said.

“Yes, Miss.”

“Eww, he’s so gross.” Her twin shivered in disgust and turned to Kurt. “If he’s gonna be serving dinner, can you make him wear his gloves?”

“He can’t serve dinner wearing gloves,” Linda said. “If he washes up, he’ll be fine.”

“Can we at least make him wear a mask, so he doesn’t breathe all over our food?” Taylor asked her older sister.

“Sure.” Elena chuckled. “Saves me from having to look at him.”

Everyone laughed while I bore the brunt of my beloved wife’s insult.

“Here, Lard-Ass,” Tom said, throwing his keys at me. “I’ve got a box of COVID masks out in the glovebox. Go put one on.”

“Yes, Sir.” I picked his keys off the ground, where they’d fallen after bouncing off my chest, and scurried away red-faced.

When I got outside, I let myself cry for a few seconds before wiping my eyes and getting busy carrying out my mother-in-law’s instructions. I ran my fingers through my hair to make myself look presentable, and made sure to wash my hands thoroughly, feeling as dirty as Rachel had accused me of being.

When I was satisfied that I was properly disinfected and coiffed, I retrieved the box of masks from Tom’s SUV and donned one. I’d always hated wearing masks during the pandemic because they made me feel claustrophobic and unable to breathe properly, but I told myself wearing a mask was a hellova lot better than sitting alone in that damned woodshed.

My wife, her beau and her family had made their way to the dining room by the time I got back into the cabin. The turkey was already on the table, and Tom was carving it up with a flourish. Linda ordered me to start bringing out the side dishes from the kitchen.

I said my “Yes, Ma’am,” and snapped to.

When I set the platter of stuffing on the table, Linda frowned. “What the hell are you doing, Roger?”

“W-what?”

“You’re supposed to be SERVING dinner, dipshit,” my mother-in-law spat. “Did you think you were gonna sit down and eat with us?”

“Oh, s-sorry,” I muttered before grabbing the platter and making my way around the dining room table.

As I doled out a portion of stuffing to Kurt, he looked up at me and smirked. “That mask becomes you, Tubby, you know that?”

“Um, thank you, Sir.”

“Don’t mention it. In fact, I think you should wear a mask all the time from now on, even when you’re at home.” He scoffed. “Especially when you’re at home; I don’t want your germs anywhere near MY baby.”

Elena squealed when her lover leaned over and nibbled her ear while I stood there like an oaf holding the platter.

“You need to wear it at work, too,” Kurt continued when he’d finished flirting with my wife. “Tell ‘em you read some article and now you’re scared of germs. It shouldn’t interfere with you making money … will it?”

“Um, no, Sir, we have a guy at work who wears a mask all the time, and it’s no problem.”

“Good.” Kurt leaned back and took a sip of eggnog. “Then you’ll have a wimpy little mask friend.”

I nodded, gritting my teeth. What the fuck; I didn’t want to wear a mask all the goddamn time! The idea made me want to scream.

Rachel slapped her palm on the table. “Can I get some stuffing over here, Lard-Ass?”

“Y-yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss.”

As I hurried to carry out my duties, I heard Taylor giggle and say, “I still can’t get over how he has to be our little bitch and call us ‘miss.’”

When all the plates were full, I wasn’t sure what to do next, so I backed up a few feet and waited with my hands folded in front of me.

Elena glared. “Okay, Roger, we’re ready to eat. Go back in the shed till someone calls you.”

From behind my hated mask, I muttered, “Yes, Ma’am,” while everyone whose faces were uncovered smirked, snarled or sneered.

============

I SAT ON A LOG exhaling fog, feeling like a trapped, muzzled dog.

As I rocked back and forth and rubbed my torso in a futile attempt to stay warm inside the chilly woodshed, clouds of hot breath pushed through my gauze mask and swirled upward. I despised having my face covered, and fantasized about lifting my mask and breathing freely again like a normal person.

Johnny the tree trunk goaded me.

“You don’t have the nerve to do it, do you? You’re a spineless piece of trash.”

“The hell, I don’t. Watch me.”

“Okay, Fat-Ass, I’m waiting. And I’ll be waiting forever. Because you don’t have the balls. No pun intended.”

“Fuck you!”

“Come on, Roger, enough with this bullshit. Fuck it, man — what do you have to lose? Do it. Nobody will ever know. Let’s go! FUCKING DO IT”!

With an apprehensive glance toward the cabin, I did it — I lifted the stifling mask from my face and sucked in cool, refreshing oxygen. For more than an hour, I’d been struggling to breathe while sitting on a log and peeking out the shed door, pathetically hoping someone would summon me. Having my pathways clear from the gauze barrier was exhilarating, and for a moment I felt happy and free.

But then my wimpy side took over. I glanced at Johnny and averted my gaze, being too ashamed to maintain eye contact with the sourpuss of a tree trunk.

With a sigh, I admitted defeat.

“I … I guess I’d better put this damn thing back on. What if he catches me?”

“How’s he gonna catch you, Fat-Ass? The cabin’s 50 yards away and it’s getting dark. Nobody can see inside the shed.”

“But, why take a chance? Kurt would hit the roof if he saw me disobeying a direct order! If it’s okay with you, I’d rather not get my ass kicked in front of Alena’s whole family. You know?”

“Alrighty then, go ahead. Obey your master, you lowdown piece of trash. Just remember what you are. What you’ll always be. You’re a fat, lowdown piece of trash. Your own mother knew it. Didn’t she?”

“Y-yes.”

“Your own MOTHER. She threw your fat ass away like a rotten banana peel.”

“I … I know.”

“Poor Roger. I know it sucks to be you, but oh, well. Some people just don’t get the breaks in this world, do they?”

“No.”

“Nope. Poor you. Now, be a good little bitch and put that mask back on. Stay in your place.”

I fixed the hated gauze over my face and cast a doleful glance toward the cabin.

Johnny scoffed.

“Those people inside are better than you, aren’t they Roger?”

“Y-yes.”

“Damn right they are. Remember what your master told you? That you’re not good enough for Elena?”

“Yes.”

“Kurt’s not the brightest guy on the planet, but he has a bully’s instinct, and can spot a beta bitch a mile away. The big palooka can hardly spell his own name, but he totally understands your sorry-ass psyche, doesn’t he?”

“Y-yes.”

“Yes, he does. He knows. He knows how low your self-esteem is … how desperate you are to please Elena, and how badly you want to keep her in your life. He uses that against you, because he’s a bully, and he loves having a little faggot to push around. And seeing you kowtow to Kurt has caused your wife to totally lose respect for you.”

“I … I know. It fucking sucks, Johnny.”

“It doesn’t suck for her, does it? It turns her on like crazy to see Kurt bully you. Right?”

“Um … yes. She gets … um, really horny when he’s mean to me.”

“Well, see? You’re not completely worthless, are you? If you’re able to play a part in her sexual satisfaction, that has to count for something. Know what I mean, Rog?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m grateful for it.”

“But you know there’s a downside, right? Every time she sees you cowering like a fat, little bitch in front of her masculine lover, it causes her to lose that much more respect for you — and she never had much to start with. And if she doesn’t respect you now, how do you think she’s gonna see you after you get castrated because her boyfriend told you to?”

“I … I don’t know.”

“Aw, poor Roger. You know you’re gonna go through with it. You don’t want to lose Elena, so we both know you’ll end up doing it. Imagine that, Rog; pretty soon, you’re gonna be a eunuch! A EUNUCH! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

After the laughter subsided, Johnny continued sneering at me, but he refrained from further comment. That was fine by me; the crotchety, old bastard was getting on my nerves.

My hand drifted to my crotch, and for the thousandth time I caressed my testicles and sobbed. Kurt had ordered me to set up the orchiectomy as soon as possible, so I made a mental note to call a doctor first thing the following Monday. I knew nothing about the process, and wondered whether I’d have to pretend I wanted to become trans, or if I could simply walk in and ask the doc to cut my balls off. I hadn’t researched the matter earlier, hoping Kurt had been kidding around, and I was trying not to think about it. But since coming to the cabin, I’d learned he wasn’t joking — he really did want me to become a eunuch, and he’d ordered me to set up the operation. Every time I thought about it, I felt like puking.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the cabin door swung open and Taylor poked her head out.

“Hey, Lard-Ass! Get in here, my ma wants you!”

I nearly fell down as I scrambled to obey.

Taylor had left the door open a crack and rejoined her family in the living room, where the sated alphas lounged before the crackling fire. I took note of the mountain of dirty plates on the dining room table.

Linda took charge as soon as I ambled into the cabin. “The first thing you need to do is put the leftovers in the fridge, and then clear the table and do the dishes,” she ordered from the comfort of her overstuffed chair.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I mumbled before hopping into action.

As I worked, my superiors continued a conversation they’d obviously been having about Elena’s relationship with Kurt.

“We talked about getting married,” my wife said, leaning toward her lover on the couch and squeezing his knee. “But the way things stand now, there’s really no point. Maybe later.”

Blood drained from my face when I heard those last two words, but I continued clearing the table, maintaining a stoic expression so I wouldn’t be caught eavesdropping.

Linda took a sip of coffee. “Well, it would be nice for my daughter to have a nice, romantic wedding.” She scoffed in my direction. “Their wedding was a joke. Everyone knew it was for money. It was pretty damned embarrassing, to tell the truth.”

Elena sat forward with a frown. “Embarrassing? Seriously, Ma? So, I married for money — there’s no need to make me feel bad about it. I already feel bad enough about marrying the slob. What the hell?”

With a wince, I scooted to the kitchen with an armful of leftovers to put away, but I kept my ear cocked toward the door so I could hear the budding family squabble.

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad about it, honey, I’m sorry,” Linda said. “But you’re so beautiful, and Roger is so …”

“Fat!” Rachel cut in.

“And ugly!” her sister added to a chorus of chuckles.

Linda sighed. “Well, I didn’t mean to insult you, Elena. I’d never do that. But on your wedding night, do you know how many of my friends asked me, ‘What’s she doing with HIM?’”

“Ugh, I’m sorry, Ma. I wish your damn friends would’ve kept their mouths shut. It was embarrassing enough for ME to be getting married to him; I hate it that you were embarrassed too.”

Tom added: “I was embarrassed because these two idiots wouldn’t stop giggling,” and from the kitchen I heard Rachel and Taylor crack up.

I stowed the leftovers into the fridge, recalling how the twins, who were 14 years old at the time, chortled throughout the wedding ceremony. Later, during the reception, they kept making fat jokes, and references to whales and hippos, setting the tone for our future relationship.

Tom and Linda pretty much ignored me that night, making it clear they didn’t approve of me marrying their daughter.

But I didn’t care, because my beloved had officially become Mrs. Elena Susan Chalmers.

As I returned to the dining room to retrieve the dirty dishes from the table, I recalled our disaster of a wedding night, when I tried to fuck my new bride but came on her leg before I was able to enter her, causing her to cuss, roll over and fall asleep.

Everyone looked up when I waddled in from the kitchen.

“Hey, Tubby,” Kurt called, holding up his empty glass. “How about a refill on this eggnog? And don’t go light on the rum, either.”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied as I scooted toward the couch, aware that my wife was scowling at me.

“I’m so glad I don’t have to pretend to care about you anymore,” she said as I accepted her lover’s glass. “No more of those stupid work meetings, where you show me off to all those ugly, old bigshots.”

Kurt snorted. “You mean Tubby here was trying to be the Mack Daddy in front of all his work buddies? That’s hilarious.”

“Ugh, it was sickening. I’d have to smile at his stupid jokes, and act like I was the ‘woman behind the man.’ Everything’s fake in those big corporations; all those rich guys have to put up a front. Half of ‘em are probably gay.”

“How’s that gonna work now, with you and Kurt seeing each other out in the open?” Tom asked as I scurried toward the kitchen to retrieve Kurt’s refill. “If they have to put up a front at his job, won’t that cause problems?”

“I don’t care,” Eleana said. “I told Roger he can tell those assholes we got divorced — or tell them I have a boyfriend, for all I care. I’m not doing that fake crap anymore; I love Kurt and I’m not gonna hide it. I don’t care how much money it costs.”

“Ooh, that’s so romantic,” Taylor gushed. Her twin squealed in agreement.

“Well, it’s nice to see you following your heart for a change, instead of going for money,” Linda told her daughter.

As I entered the room with Kurt’s second alcohol-infused eggnog, he pulled my wife closer and smirked. “Shit, ol’ girl here don’t care about money — she was gonna divorce Tubby, even though it would’ve cost her a shitload. But everything changed when the fat loser begged to stay married. We figured it’s only on paper, so fuck it; what do we care?”

“As long as the loser sleeps in the garage, huh, Kurt?” Rachel added with a titter.

“That’s not all he has to do,” Kurt slurred as I handed him his drink.

Elena frowned at her lover. “Honey? You sure you want to tell them?”

“Shit, I told Tom already,” Kurt replied.

Tom chuckled. “What? You talking about his balls?”

“OMG, Dad, he told you?” Elena squirmed from her lover’s grip and sat up straight.

“Yes, he told me — and I think it’s hilarious.” Tom flashed a paternal smile. “You think your mother and me are way more old-fashioned than we are, honey.”

My wife looked at her mother. “Did Dad tell you, too?”

Linda smirked. “Of course, he did. And I think it’s a great idea.”

“WHAT’S a great idea?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah, what are you guys talking about?” Taylor demanded.

Tom started to reply, but Kurt cut him off.

“Hey, Numb-Nuts, why don’t you tell the twins what you’re planning to do for me?” my wife’s lover asked with a smirk.

I shifted from one foot to the other. “Um … I have to … I have to … be cast … rated.” The last word wobbled.

Rachel held her hand over her mouth. “Castrated? OMG, are you kidding me?”

“Yep,” Kurt leaned back on the couch with a smug look on his face. “Like I told your dad — I want it like they had back in the old Roman emperor days, when they made the queen’s slaves into eunuchs.”

Elena rolled her eyes and playfully nudged her lover’s ribs. “This one’s so possessive. I told him there’s nothing to worry about; Roger isn’t exactly stiff competition in the man department.”

“Sounds like he won’t be ‘stiff’ anything pretty soon,” Tom quipped, and everyone laughed at the insult.

Taylor searched my eyes. “And you’re gonna have this done because you love my sister so much?”

I gulped. “Um, yes, Miss.”

“I think that’s kinda romantic,” Taylor said.

“Pfft, it’s pretty pathetic, if you ask me,” Rachel replied. “Aren’t you embarrassed about being my sister’s simp, and her having a boyfriend?”

Kurt answered for me: “Nah, ol’ Rog loves his life. Don’t you, Rog?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You make an appointment to get the operation yet?”

“Um, no, Sir.”

“And why the fuck not?”

“Um, Sir, after we talked about it, Sir, I … I was busy digging, and then my cellphone’s battery died, Sir, so I wasn’t able to research it and find a place. I plan on doing it first thing Monday, Sir. But … uh, I’m not even sure how it works, Sir.”

My master frowned. “What do you mean? You’re not sure how WHAT works?”

“Um, Sir, I … I don’t know if I can just go into a clinic and ask to be castrated, or if I’d have to tell them I’m trans. I know for sure they do it for trans people, but I’m not sure—”

“Eww, can you imagine Lard-Ass as a woman?” Taylor and her sister cracked up.

“Oh, I don’t know,” her mother mused. “If he grew his hair out, he’d kind of look like an ugly Kathy Bates.”

“You mean that fat lady from ‘Titanic?’” Rachel asked before busting out laughing, while the rest of the family joined in, leaving me standing there with a red face and a hollow soul.

When the merriment faded, Linda made a suggestion that felt like a kick to my still-intact nuts.

“Seriously, why not make him become a trans?” My mother-in-law looked at Elena and Kurt with an expression that said she wasn’t kidding. “You could tell everyone that’s why you left him: because he finally came out and wants to live as a woman. That way, you don’t look like the bad guy; you can tell everyone you’re letting him stay in your house, even though he’s the one who changed things up on you. Nobody would blame you for finding a real man after that.”

Rachel smacked her lips. “You’re just worried about what to tell your stupid friends, Ma.”

“Well, yeah, honey, I do care about what my friends think. It’s bad enough having everyone know my daughter married for money. No offense, Elena, but like I said, it was embarrassing.”

“It’s okay, Ma,” my wife said. “I understand.”

Linda smiled. “I love you, honey. Yes, I’m concerned about what people think; I guess I am old-fashioned in that respect. Being trans isn’t a huge deal anymore. And … well, I just don’t want everyone thinking my daughter is a gold-digger who dumped her husband for some big stud.”

As I stood there like a fat chump fighting back tears, I muttered to myself that my wife WAS a gold-digger who’d dumped me for some big stud.

Elena touched her lover’s hand. “I don’t know, honey. What do you think?”

Kurt rubbed his chin. “I don’t know … hey, Lard-Ass, you think you’d get in trouble at work if you became one of them trannies?”

I badly wanted to lie, but I found myself replying, “Um, no, Sir … there are two trans people at the firm.”

Kurt looked me up and down, his eyes dancing.

“Well, Linda, if it’ll make you happy, why not?” My master snorted. “He’ll be a fat, ugly bitch — but he’s a fat, ugly bitch anyway.”

As everyone laughed at the put-down, Elena curled her lip at me.

“The more I think about it, the better this sounds,” she said. “I hate having you hanging around the house, even if you ARE sleeping in the garage, because it reminds me of how stupid I was to have married your pathetic ass. This way, the old you will be completely gone, and I can move on with my life. And, like Ma said, I don’t have to be the bad guy; everyone will think I’m wonderful for letting you stick around after you came out.”

I could no longer hold back my tears, and I started bawling and babbling incoherent syllables until my master held up his hand for silence.

“Quiet, Fat-Ass,” he ordered. “I know this is a lot for you to deal with right now, but you need to just shut the fuck up and start thinking of yourself as a tranny. Because that’s the way it’s going to be. Period.”

“Otherwise, get the fuck out of here right now, and we’ll get divorce lawyers,” Elena said. “I’m not playing, Roger. You’ll do what he says. Got it?”

I bowed my head. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Taylor giggled. “What’s his female name gonna be?”

“Rogerina?” Rachel suggested, which caused Tom to spit out his coffee.

“More like Elsie the cow,” my mother-in-law said.

Taylor furrowed her brow. “Who’s Elsie the cow?”

“She used to be on the milk cartons, honey,” Linda said.

“Hmmm … Elsie,” Kurt mused before turning to his girlfriend. “You like that name, honey?”

“I don’t give a shit,” my wife said. “Call him ‘Moo-Moo’ for all I care; as long the old Roger is gone.”

Tom rolled over laughing. “OMG, Moo-Moo is perfect!”

“It IS perfect!” Linda added as the twins slapped their knees.

Kurt’s lips tightened. “I dunno … that might fuck him up at work. Tell you what, Fat-Ass: When you change your name, you’ll make your first name Elsie, and your middle name Moo-Moo. They can call you Elsie at work, and we’ll call you Moo-Moo at home. You hear?”

“Y-yes, Sir,” I sniffed, the tears now freely flowing.

“Oh, stop your goddamn drama,” my wife said, settling back into her lover’s arms. “Finish cleaning up and then get the hell out of here — Moo-Moo.”

Tom smirked. “It’s a good 25 miles to the bus station. You gonna make him walk?”

“Fuck yes, he can walk,” my wife said.

Kurt added: “He needs to lose some weight if he wants to look good in a dress!”

As shards of cruel laughter sliced through me, I retreated to the kitchen and started scrubbing dirty pots and pans while crying into the soapy dishwater.

============

IT WAS A LONG, cold, lonely walk to the Greyhound station, and the bumpy bus ride home sucked even worse, with two syllables taunting me the entire trip:

Moo-Moo. Moo-Moo. MOO-MOO! Moooo-Mooooo. Mooooooooooooooo-Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!

As the scenery zoomed by outside my window, I struggled to breathe through the COVID mask, feeling like the whole universe was dipped in shit. I was on the fast track to Bizarro Land, and felt powerless to stop the runaway train. Worse, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to stop it, since deviating from the humiliating future my master had mapped out for me meant not having Elena in my life.

My life.

I wasn’t even sure what that meant anymore. The idea of getting castrated had been radical enough, and I still was trying to process that twisted reality when, out of the blue, my future became even bleaker, thanks to my mother-in-law’s ridiculous suggestion that I not only get my balls cut off, but undergo gender reassignment surgery as well.

However, as the miles flew by and I thought about it more deeply, I eventually had to admit her idea wasn’t so ridiculous, after all. In fact, the plan was downright ingenious, and it worked for everyone.

Everyone, that is, except me.

Moo-Moo. Moo-Moo. MOO-MOO! Moooo-Mooooo. Mooooooooooooooo-Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!

As Linda had pointed out, forcing me to become trans would give Elena the moral high road, since she could act like she was magnanimously accepting my conversion while allowing me to continue living with her and her “new boyfriend.” In this paradigm, Linda wouldn’t have to tell her friends that her daughter was a cheating, gold-digging slut; Elena would be seen as a compassionate, understanding wife who was helping hubby navigate an identity crisis.

My wife was so ridiculously in love with Kurt, she didn’t care what people thought, which is why she’d decided to start openly dating him after dragging him home that fateful first night, when he kicked my ass and showed me who was boss. But Linda had always been a worrywart when it came to what was being said in gossip circles, so Elena was happy to go along with whatever her mom wanted, as long as it was okay with Kurt.

In a diatribe that’ll haunt me to the grave, my beloved wife had also told me she was looking forward to my sex change because it would help her forget she’d ever made the mistake of marrying a fat loser like me. Elena, the woman of my dreams, wanted me to disappear.

As far as my bully of a master was concerned, he was delighted at the prospect of turning me into a transgendered sissy. It would cement his power over me and erase my manhood far more effectively than a simple castration would have achieved, while allowing him to openly pursue his relationship with my wife without looking like some slug who’d broken up a marriage. As a bonus, he’d be making Elena’s mom happy. The idea seemed perfect to Kurt.

Moo-Moo. Moo-Moo. MOO-MOO! Moooo-Mooooo. Mooooooooooooooo-Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!

The twins? They thought the whole thing was hilarious. So did Tom.

I was the only loser in this shitty deal. But there was nothing I could do about it, so, as my master had decreed, I vowed to start thinking of myself in a whole new light. I knew that for all intents and purposes, Roger Chalmers would soon be gone — erased like a piece of trash that’s buried in a landfill, never to be seen again. That’s what my mother had wanted. Elena, too.

A whole new person would arise from the ashes: A chubby, transgendered stockbroker named Elsie “Moo-Moo” Chalmers. I thought about the two other trans women at the firm; nobody seemed fazed by them, and their sexual identities didn’t appear to affect their jobs, so I figured it wouldn’t be too difficult from a logistics standpoint to make the transition at work.

Still, I knew it was going to be mortifying to show up at the office in drag, and have to tell everyone I’d always felt like a woman inside. The more I envisioned it, the sadder I became.

I tried to chase away my depression by blocking out thoughts about the scary future — but the past was just as crappy. The previous few days had been completely demoralizing; I’d hardly said two words to my beloved wife the whole time I was at the cabin, and I certainly didn’t get to spend any time alone with her. On the few occasions when she did speak to me, she spat insults that cut me to ribbons in front of her lover and family.

Aside from my mental distress, I was physically exhausted from having dug a 15-foot hole in a ridiculously short period of time, and from tossing and turning each night while trying to sleep on hard, lumpy logs. On top of that, whenever I’d been summoned to the cabin after hours of waiting in the woodshed like a sad, pathetic loser, I’d been subjected to nonstop verbal abuse. Finally, after I’d finished cleaning up the Thanksgiving dinner mess, my masters sent me on my way, making me walk 25 fucking miles to the fucking bus stop, rather than allowing me to use MY OWN FUCKING MONEY to get an Uber.

I shuddered with the realization that Kurt had turned Elena and her family into bullies like him. He seemed to be persuasive that way, and I imagined when he was in school, he’d probably been the ringleader who’d recruited others to help him terrorize the class nerds.

I hadn’t had time to ask for permission to eat, and while I was dying to use the debit card to grab a bite when the bus stopped at stations along the route, I knew better. By the time we rolled into Kansas, I was damn near starving, and was ready to start begging people for money.

During a stop in the Topeka station, which had a McDonald’s, I saw a man leave a tray with a half-eaten Quarter Pounder and almost an entire order of fries atop a trash bin, since the basket was overflowing and there was nowhere else to put the food. I glanced around to ensure nobody was looking before scooping up the tray. Too hungry to be ashamed, I plopped down in a booth and devoured the hand-me-down burger and fries, leaning back and enjoying a long, satisfied burp afterward.

I remained hungry for the rest of the journey, but it wasn’t as terrible as it would’ve been had I not pilfered some stranger’s combo meal, plus a couple jelly packets someone had left on a nearby table.

As soon as I got home, I wolfed down two ham sandwiches and a bowl of pork and beans, and then went online to research gender reassignment surgery options. I decided to go with a nearby clinic that had top-notch ratings, where I’d have to wait about three months after completing counseling sessions and classes. That seemed to be the standard waiting time for all the facilities, and I wasn’t sure how that was going to sit with Kurt, since he’d ordered me to give him my balls as a Christmas present, and there wasn’t enough time to get the surgery done before the holiday.

During my lunch hour Monday, I ducked outside and phoned the clinic to make an appointment for the initial consultation. I couldn’t believe the words that spilled from my mouth as I lied and told the receptionist that I’d always felt trapped in a woman’s body. The lady was patient and kind, and helped me get through the ordeal to set up an appointment for 2 p.m. that Friday. She was obviously practiced in dealing with people in distress, although she had no idea why I was so wigged out. Unlike most of those who called her, I was being forced to have this operation. The receptionist did make a tough phone call easier, though, and I felt confident I’d chosen the right clinic.

When I got home from work, Elena’s truck was in the driveway next to Kurt’s. With a defeated sigh, I parked in the street and trudged up the front steps.

The second I walked through the door, Kurt barked: “Hey, fat boy, how’s about fetching me another beeeeuuurrrr?” He burped the last word.

“Yes, Sir, right away, Sir,” I said as I shut the door behind me and scuttled toward the kitchen. There were three empty beer cans on the coffee table, while another two lay on the carpet, although my master’s slurred speech alone would’ve been a dead giveaway that he’d been drinking heavily. From the looks of the half-empty Chardonay bottle on the table, I surmised Elena was also feeling no pain.

Kurt snorted as I set his fresh beer in front of him and began collecting the empties. “You’re gonna be one ugly bitch, you know that?”

I adjusted my mask and whispered, “yes, Sir.”

“Did you make the appointment?”

“Yes, Sir, the first consultation is Friday at 2.”

Kurt glared at me. “Consultation? Fuck all that — when’s the appointment to get turned into a woman? To get your nuts cut off?”

“Um, Sir, it takes at least three months, Sir; they make you go to counseling, and take a class.”

My master scoffed. “You mean you need to take a class to learn how to be a fag?”

“Well, that’s one he’ll pass with straight A’s!” Elena giggled.

My wife and her lover enjoyed a good laugh, before she looked at me with her familiar expression of disgust. “Why the hell are you still wearing men’s clothes, anyway … Moo-Moo?”

Elena had come up with the humiliating name that amused her boyfriend so much, and she seemed to relish using it like a sword.

I blinked and fiddled with the empty beer cans I was holding. “Um … I … Ma’am, I didn’t know I was supposed to … um, make the change right away, Ma’am.”

“Yes, do it right away, idiot.” Elena’s eyes flashed. “Didn’t I tell you I wanted the old you gone? Because I’m sick of looking at you? I want there to be a new you — Moo-Moo!”

The rhyming put-down cracked Kurt up, but Elena kept at me.

“Did you think I was joking, moron?”

“I … n-no, Ma’am, I … I’m sorry … I just didn’t know I had to do it now; I thought you wanted me to wait … you know, for the operation.”

“Well, there you go thinking again, when you don’t have the equipment — upstairs or downstairs,” my drunken wife slurred for probably the 10,000^th time.

And for the 10,000^th time, I stood there like a fat slug.

Elena snapped her fingers. “Hello? Earth to Fuck-Face?” She pointed to her wine glass. “Refill that, and then go the store and buy yourself a new wardrobe. You’ll probably have to go to Lane Bryant to find anything that fits you; there’s one on 56^th Street. Get business dresses for the office, and some housedresses you can wear when you’re cleaning up around here.”

Kurt snickered. “Let’s make him dress like a maid.”

“Perfect, since that’s pretty much all he is to me anyway,” my wife concurred before sneering up at me. “Moo-Moo the maid. Sound good to you, Moo-Moo?”

“Um, yes, Ma’am.”

“You can order some maid’s dresses online later,” Elena instructed. “Get the kind the maids wear in the hotels; I’m sure they make them for fat women, because I’ve seen some of those heifers.”

“Um, yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. More wine. And then get going. Moo-Moo.”

After setting the empties on the table, I refilled my wife’s glass before tossing the beer cans in the kitchen recycling bin. Then, I plodded back outside like a braindead zombie.

I was too overwhelmed with fear and self-pity to formulate cogent thoughts, other than wondering what the hell I was going to look like as a trans, while trying to block out those two damn syllables ...

Moo-Moo. Moo-Moo. MOO-MOO! Moooo-Mooooo. Mooooooooooooooo-Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!

To be continued ...

c.w. cobblestone's stony path

Monday, November 25, 2024

Presents Book 2

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