"What a load of garbage."
"No, really, it's true!"
"Yeah, right. How gullible do you think I am? You're just trying to mess with me."
"Well, let me prove it to you. How about your husband?"
"Hmmm ... interesting."
"What should I do?"
"I tell you what. If you can make my husband wear a bra and panties, then I'll believe you."
"<giggle> ... It would serve him right, too. He's such a self-righteous homophobe."
Saturday morning and Janet is still asleep. I sneak upstairs to my office and turn on my computer to browse the porno I had downloaded overnight. I like to masturbate on Saturday mornings while viewing dirty pictures from the internet. I mean, who doesn't?
What's this? A unexpected file appears on my desktop. "Bran Panties?" I mutter to myself, "sounds uncomfortable." I double-click the executable.
<zzzrrrooommm> I freeze. The entire screen is taken over by a weird, flickering pattern that draws me in and expands to fill my entire field of vision.
<ping!> the picture is replaced by a woman, lounging in bed, wearing a bra and a pair of panties.
I can't move. I stare at the picture, drinking in the image. She looks happy, she looks comfortable, she looks relaxed, the bra and panties look nice and comfortable and lovely and fun to wear...
"What the hell?" after a few seconds, I snap out of it.
"Lame," I think. "Standard internet soft-core porno. Weird about those flickering patterns, though." I reach for the keyboard...
<zzzrrrooommm> The flickering pattern returns and my hand drops limply to my side. I feel all thoughts drain away.
<ping!> A second picture appears. Another woman, this time standing in front of the dishwasher, just wearing a bra and panties, smiling, happy, a hand on her hip feeling the smooth fabric of her underwear, the straps over her shoulders feeling so snug and comforting and like they had to be there and like I would fall apart if they weren't and wouldn't I like to be clasped in an intimate hug like that and...
I shake my head to clear it. "What the fuck?"
clingy panties, hugging hips, cut high, delightfully creasing between my buns, bits of lace tickling my legs, elastic gently hugging...
"Achhh! Damn! Stop it!!" I shout, trying desperately to turn away.
silk fabric, rubbing nipples, caressing skin, sliding gently over pert buns, cupping breasts...
hooks and eyes, elastic, hugging, restricting, binding my chest, they move to the next row of hooks, tighter, more delicious, more wonderful, more incredible...
happy, warm, cared for, sexy, excited, horny, relaxed, beautiful...
enclosed and tight, imprisoned in lingerie, unable to take it off, not wanting to ever take it off...
panties, bras, wearing...
bra and panties...
bra and panties...
bra and panties...
"You won't believe this!"
"I woke up this morning and there he was! Trying on my underwear!"
"You don't say?"
"And he had this weird, blissful expression on his face."
"So, what you'd do?"
"Well, I forbid him to wear any of mine, that's for sure. And then <giggle> said that if he wanted some to wear, he should go out and buy his own!"
"And he did! Raced out of the house like it was on fire and came back with three bags full. He's worn nothing-but, all day."
"Told you I could do it."
"OK, I admit you were right, this time. But I bet you can't make him do this..."
Saturday morning again. My new bra and panties are the best! They feel incredible! Just putting on a pair in the morning makes me feel complete, loved, and tingly all over. And my wife is so wonderfully supportive, although somewhat amused by my new obsession. Boy, did we ever have a lot of sex this week.
I turn on the computer, just like I had every morning this week to run BRANPANTIES.EXE again. "It's becoming like an addiction," I think idly to myself, wondering ... is this was something I should worry about?
It's gone! Where is BRANPANTIES.EXE?? Damn it!
I look all over and it is nowhere to be found. A search of my hard drive returns no results. Backups! Why didn't I make a backup??
I whimper a little, feeling lost and adrift.
Just then, I notice a new icon on my desktop.
"Beam aid?" I double-click it.
<zzzrrrooommm> I sigh in pleasure as I watch the flickering patterns and feel the stress drain from my body.
But wait! There's no picture of a woman in bra and panties. This woman is fully dressed! And she's wearing some ridiculous parody of a maid's outfit and holding a feather duster. I look at her for a few seconds, then roll my eyes and reach for the keyboard.
<zzzrrrooommm> My hand halts in mid air before gently dropping to my side.
Another woman in a maid's outfit. Actually, she's kind of sexy, and she looks perfectly happy to be wearing it. She reaches up to dust a high shelf and you can clearly see her legs encased in stockings and garters.
"But still," I blink, "where are my branpanties pictures?"
"You know, the bodice of those maid's uniforms look awfully tight," I think to myself, "wonderfully so," I add in wonder. This woman is merely posing, lightly holding a feather duster in her right hand. It looks like it should have been uncomfortable, but the woman in the picture appears more than comfortable. In fact, she seems to really enjoy wearing it.
Her left hand strokes down the bodice which tightly clenches around her waist, pulling it in a couple of inches like a demanding corset, encasing and restricting her torso, hugging her body, tight, comforting, sexy...
"Didn't men used to wear corsets?" I wonder.
SLAP! From some deep reserve of strength, my hand reaches up and slaps my face, shocking some sense into my brain. "OK, enough's enough!" I say, out-loud, quickly moving the cursor to the 'window-close' box. But before I can click it...
puffy short sleeves, just long enough to hide the shoulders and add some flounce. Bright white lace stitched on the edges, lightly grazing over bare arms as you move, gently reminding you of what you are wearing, reminding you that you are a maid...
"Nooo..." I moan, unable to look away.
stockings and heels, gossamer fabric caressing legs, hugging legs, held up by elastic garters attached to the corset, garters wrapped in frilly black lace, lace rubbing against bare thighs, stockings delightfully stretched over beautiful legs and pert toes, keeping them safe and warm and smooth and silky and beautiful and...
high heels, black, classic, arching feet, beautiful legs, curved and shapely legs, high heels enforcing good posture, like a proper person should have good posture, pinched toes subtly reminding a person to mind their place, pinched toes saying that your feet are trapped, captured, can not get away, must be a maid, don't need to get away, don't need to worry about getting away, don't need to worry about anything but wearing these clothes which remind you of your place and your desire to maintain your place and the desire to be a maid so that you don't have to make decisions...
velvet ribbon around the neck, very tight but very nice, small apron, feather duster, white lace, small white cap pinned on, hair put up, being happy, knowing my place, being sexy, being proud of my position, comfortable, routine, sexy, horny, satisfied, relaxed, warm, loved...
Sexy French maid's dress...
"You fucked up!"
"What? What happened?"
"He's not cleaning the house at all! He's just prancing around in a stupid French maid's outfit! He spent all day Saturday looking for one, and finally found one at some costume shop. And today two more arrived by FedEx!"
"<laughing> I love it. He must look ridiculous."
"It's not funny! It was hard enough convincing him not to go out of the house dressed like that. And when I told him he couldn't wear it at home, do you know what happened?"
"He burst into tears! I thought he was going to have a nervous breakdown, all that screaming and carrying on!"
"Well, what do you want me to do?"
"Fix it! Now! I want a maid who actually cleans up the fucking place!"
"I love Saturdays," I think to myself. "The start of a whole new week, just being who I am. A maid."
A stray thought passes through my head, tickling at the edge of my consciousness. Something's not right. My brow furrows and I try to puzzle out what it is ... I am not a maid, I am a man, aren't I? Why would I be a maid? What purpose would it serve for a man to be a maid? Weren't men like that just pansies who should be rounded up and sent to fairy prison or something?
My hand unconsciously strokes up and down my side. The corset and bodice are very restricting. I can't breath very well, but somehow just recognizing that they are there makes me feel less confused.
As expected, BEAMAID.EXE is gone.
Without thinking, I just automatically double click on "Doctor Lean".
But wait! I think, what's ... who's...
<zzzrrrooommm> "Oh..." my mind blanks and all of those nasty questions just dissolve away.
A close-up on hands. Graceful hands. Sexy hands. Hands with bright red nail polish. Hands immersed in soapy water scrubbing dishes with energy.
"Well, this is weird," I think to myself. "Sure, the fingernails are sexy, but she's just doing the dishes." I reach for the mouse.
arms. Graceful arms. Thin arms. Industrious arms holding clothes. Putting clothes into the clothes-washer. Sorting clothes.
"Oh, please," I groan. "Where are my sexy pictures? I thought I was going to get more porno..."
powerful vacuum cleaners. Sucking up dirt, getting all of the dirt, even in the corners, the carpet now fresh, smooth, clean, right.
"OK, that's it. Never again will I use this computer. This has just gotten too weird..."
scrubbing toilets. On hands and knees. Not minding the smell. Liking the smell. Making things clean and spotless. Taking care of things.
scrubbing floors, making everything nice, safe, and clean. Making a warm, comfortable, clean home. Everything clean and in its place.
all clothes washed <ping!> all carpets vacuumed <ping!> all floors spotless and all dust gone <ping!> all books and shelves dusted <ping!> all drapes and couches vacuumed <ping!> all trash cans empty...
everything clean, warm, safe, a safe haven, a warm and comforting place, clean, in its place...
controlled, predictable, neat, organized, clean, warm, safe...
a maid's purpose is to clean...
"You are a genius!"
"Did it ever! Our place looks fantastic! Everything's washed, everything's put away. Yesterday he organized all of the CD's alphabetically and by category! Tomorrow he says he's going to paint the kitchen! I love it!"
"And the maid's outfit?"
"He's still wearing it. Even outside. It's a good thing we have a wooded lot."
"<chuckle> Excellent! Now maybe you can do something for me."
"Sure! You name it!"
"Well ... I've always been jealous of your husband."
"Because he has such a beautiful wife."
"Why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow?"
I sit down at my computer on Saturday feeling more satisfied and proud of myself than ever before. It had been a struggle, but the house is finally starting to fall into place. There was only that one time, when I was painting the master-bath and the can of paint accidentally fell on the floor ... I shudder now when I think about it. It happened just after midnight and clearly I was too tired.
Fortunately, Janet came home just in time. She found me sobbing on the floor, my nice clean bathroom completely ruined. Bless her! She helped clean up and carefully suggested that I could stay home from work the next day to retile the bathroom if I wanted to. It took two days, but now the bathroom looks better than ever. She's so smart! I just love being her maid!
Actually, it seems that she's been staying out late a lot lately. What has she been doing? I've been working so hard on cleaning up the place that I haven't had the chance to ask her ... working late, I guess. But then, why would she come home first to shower and change before going out again to work? I seemed to remember asking her about it, but then she would just ask me about the cleaning I was doing and I would beam and show her everything that I had done.
Oh well. The place looks great. And there is still so much more that I can do! It's just going to be fantastic when everything is just perfect. I love cleaning!
"Damn," I mutter, distracted, "I have a run in my stockings. Now, how did that happen? I better go fix it. Hmmm ... what's MAKEUP.EXE? What do I need to make up?" I wonder, double-clicking the icon.
Suddenly I panic. "It can't be, can it? No! Stop! NOT MAKEUP! I REFUSE!"
<zzzrrrooommm> I freeze, my brain completely captivated by the flashing patterns on the screen.
The first picture is a close-up of full, red lips. Gorgeous lips. Deep red. Wet, inviting, sexy, voluptuous, pouty, full. Red lipstick, being thickly applied with graceful fingers. Lipstick pressing down on the sensitive lips, stroking them, painting them deep red, making them beautiful, desirable, womanly, kiss-able...
"No..." I moan, "please, don't force me to wear makeup." Summoning my last reserve of free will, I lurch towards the computer.
<zzzrrrooommm> Too late.
skin, deep cleaning, washing, moisturizing, pampering, clean and proper skin, not oily, smells wonderful, looking fresh and wholesome...
"Please..." I moan, all but giving up hope.
shaving legs, razor gliding up each leg removing ugly hairs, razor strokes gently stroking away cares and worries, making them look smooth, elegant, creamy, silky, make them look wonderful, sensitive, exposed, open and available for the caress of fabrics, sheer stockings, gentle lace, skirt hems...
"Stop..." I whimper.
shaving underarms, clean, smooth, and nice smelling, a blessing to be clean there, shaving entire body, exposing entire body to fabric and touch, stroking entire body, making entire body clean and unsoiled by hair, shaving twice a day, shaving everything clean, silky smooth and clean...
"So smooth..." I whisper.
hiding blemishes, making everything look perfect, clear and innocent, powder drifting around me, covering my perfect, beautiful, translucent skin...
beautiful, expressive, caring eyes, eyes which captivate, carefully highlighted, eyebrows plucked, eyes which show emotion, eye shadow, eyeliner, eyes which express deep feelings, feelings which change, such pretty colors, eyes which must be displayed, to bring out the deep feelings that I have, to show the world my feelings and how beautiful and expressive my eyes are...
hair cut, shoulder length, smart, out of the way, perfect for a maid, makes my head appear round and feminine, hair flowing around my head, auburn with red highlights, a red head, good for a maid, seen but not heard, hair to float around shoulders and neck, gently expressing how feminine a maid this is, how feminine I am...
earrings, dangling, pierced ears, holes in earlobes, inserting the earring, dangles lightly brushing over shoulders, dangles lightly swinging as I move, lightly brushing against neck, each touch making me feel beautiful and admired, reminding me to be on display for all to see...
reminding me of how feminine I am, how feminine a maid must be, how feminine a maid must be who cleans and manages the household, how it is proper to be feminine...
"Yes!" I think with tears of joy.