I knew I was probably imagining it, but it felt like I could feel the puddle of cum moving inside me. I pictured the loads from all those men mixing together in my stomach. I did all I could to ignore those thoughts and put my attention to dinner and making sure everything was normal at home. I had to walk through all the rooms, looking for anything that I might have forgotten and set down or dropped when I was rushing out, or had my thoughts blurred by the excitement of having to obey Liam’s instructions.
When Cheryl arrived home at last, it felt like a huge relief. Something about being at home with her, just the two of us, made me feel a bit more normal and grounded again. I felt so confused by how much I’d been aroused by all those men and their raging cocks. I knew at the core that I had no choice but to obey Liam’s commands or those that were acting as his proxies, but I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t want to do these things. I could feel my own pleasure coming from my obedience. More than just that, I was developing a hunger for these cocks inside me. Amidst all those discomforting truths, the palpable love I still felt for my beautiful wife was a reassuring touchstone, even with a plug in my ass.
It was only then that it occurred to me to wonder if she still plugged herself. Of course, I wasn’t supposed to know that she’d had a toy like that inside her. There was more and more that I wasn’t supposed to know, to add to all the things that I couldn't quite make myself share with her.
Cheryl enjoyed the dinner and didn’t seem to notice that I just picked around the edges of my own plate. Knowing the secrets that I did, it was tempting to read into everything. If she adjusted herself in her chair, I wondered. If she smiled at me with a glint in her eye, I had to hide my panic at what she might know herself.
It ended up being just a normal evening. Just another Monday after work in the home of a married couple. We ate our dinner, had a glass of wine in front of the TV, checked out our favourite social media sites on our phones, and got ready for bed. As was our ritual, Cheryl gave me a kiss and went upstairs first, while I remained up a bit longer.
It didn’t normally have a nightcap on weeknights, but I felt like I deserved one. I poured a shot of whiskey and carried it back to the living room. I made it about halfway when my phone buzzed with a text from Liam.
“The success of your paysite is wonderful, but it is time you added other social media to support it. Set up a Twitter account tonight, choose a good image of your face made up for the avatar. Post the new account name on your pay site so your fans can follow you there, and so they can tag you in their own photos from today. Once that is done, you can remove the butt plug.”
I sighed silently and turned to go to my office. I felt the plug as I sat in front of the computer and started everything up. I left the office door open so that I could listen to the quiet of the house around me. The glow of the monitor lit the room.
It was simple enough to set up a new Twitter account, and I scanned through the photos of my session with Brooke where I’d first shown my sissified face. I found one that made me look as pretty as possible, but it still made my heart pound as I uploaded it. The makeup and wig hid my appearance somewhat, but it was still my face being posted in public, sissified. The fear made me tingle and squirm, but there was never any doubt that I would obey this instruction.
Once I had filled out the profile, copying my bio over, I made a little post on the pay site, informing everyone that I had a Twitter profile now. Back on Twitter, I picked one or two photos from some of the first OnlyFans posts and tweeted them out, along with links back to the pay site.
Liam had mentioned getting anyone who had come to the store that day to post and share photos, but I imagined that they might need a bit of encouragement. I started a new Twitter post, linking back to my OnlyFans announcement of working in the store.
“I had such an overwhelming experience at the shop today. If you were able to be there and have photos to share, please tag me in them and add #CrissyInPublic.”
I took a deep breath, read it over one more time, and then posted it.
The house was so quiet that I decided to leave the computer on while I went downstairs to take care of the plug, now that my tasks were done. I slipped downstairs, tugged down my pants, and eased the toy out. It felt so good to finally have that thing out of me, but at the same time, I seemed to miss it immediately. I had been wearing it so long that I felt empty and stretched out without it. I felt how warm the steel plug was as I took the time to wash it and put it away.
Only a few minutes had passed by the time I finished putting everything away and returned upstairs. As before, the house seemed quiet and dark. I returned to my office for one final look at things before turning in. I had intended just a quick look, but when I refreshed the page, I had to sit down.
The Twitter account, less than an hour old, already had hundreds of followers, and the number just kept rising. The tweet that I’d made with the photos was being liked and re-tweeted and quoted, again and again. My face and image, sissified and teased, were spreading across the internet as I watched.
The replies to the hashtag were coming in too. It seemed like at least a few of the men who’d been there had found their way to this account and were sharing their photos. I couldn’t stop looking at them. There were images of me from some distance, as though they were taken from the line, showing me from the side or at an angle where it was very clear what I was doing. Those photos also showed the full display of my sissy outfit. I looked slutty and depraved, but at least I seemed a little bit less recognisable.
The second category of photos were the close-ups, obviously taken by the men I was servicing at the time. My lips were wrapped tight around them and my eyes, looking glossy and dazed, were staring right up at them. There I was, over and over again, with my mouth full of cock. These images weren’t emailed just to me – they were posted online where anyone could see, tagged with this new Twitter name.
In addition to the posts and photos from those who had been there, there were comments and responses being made by many others. Some commented on how they wished they had been there, some vowed to be there next time, but many others responded just with their comments on what a slut I was, what a good cocksucker I seemed to be, and what a total whore I was servicing so many cocks at one time and place.
A couple of other photos were shared, some showing the lineup of men, seemingly watching and waiting patiently for their own cocks to be sucked. There were even photos posed of the souvenir panties to much amusement. They were all tagged with by Twitter handle and the hashtag I had suggested, making them so easy to find.
I pushed back from my desk, just watching the numbers increase. I felt the presence of the cum so full in my belly yet again. Seeing all the photos made it all real again. I could feel myself right back there, but at the same time, I saw myself as these others did. I was a sissy slut, on my knees in public, apparently with an insatiable desire for cock. I felt tired all of a sudden, so I signed out of everything and shut down the computer.
At that moment alone in the dark, I was dressed as a man. I wasn’t caged or plugged. I wasn’t wearing panties or stockings. I’d just spent an evening with my wife whom I loved and was attracted to. I felt like I was losing track of which version of me was the real one. I slipped upstairs, stripping down to my boxers, and sliding quietly into bed beside my sleeping, softly breathing wife.
I awoke the next morning to my alarm. The day started as it always did, with Cheryl and I walking through our normal workday routine. We smiled at each other, we chatted warmly, and I happily did my part in getting breakfast ready, helping to get her ready for her working day in her office.
My body and heart stirred, seeing her come down the stairs dressed for work. I was becoming quite sure that she had started to dress sexier. Her skirt was above the knee and clung to the curves of her ass. Her blouse was similarly fitted and was unbuttoned enough to provide a glimpse of cleavage. She noticed my attention to her looks and smiled.