After the ten-minute drive home, the sharp edge of my agitation had dulled, settling into a low, steady undertone.

Kimmie, my wife, met me at the door. “Well? How did it go? Any problems?”

“No, everything was fine.” I turned quickly and headed for the kitchen, but Kimmie knows me too well. She’s fluent in the little tics, shifts and tells that betray me. She’s a poker player, and a good one.

“Wait a minute, Mister. Not so fast. Look at me.” Her voice was firm, commanding. I froze mid-stride.

I kept my back turned, heat crawling up my face, certain the truth was blazing there for her to see. Then her hand clamped down on my arm. With one sharp pull, she spun me around—leaving me nowhere to hide.

“Honey, you know I can read you like a book. Something happened. Tell me.”

“I’d rather not say, if you don’t mind.” My voice was thin, evasive, an attempt to wriggle free of her grip.

“Pat,” she said gently, her eyes soft but steady, “out with it. You know I won’t stop until you spill the beans.”

Kimmie could be tender and relentless all at once. When she wanted the truth, she didn’t press with claws—she wrapped me in love until there was no place left to run. And staring into those puppy-dog brown eyes always melted my resistance like butter on a hot plate.

Then her expression shifted, a gentle light dawning in her gaze. “He got to meet Patty, didn’t he?” she asked softly, as if offering me a safe place to land.

I swallowed hard, caught between shame and relief. “Yeah,” I whispered. “He did.”

Her hand squeezed mine, steady and warm. “Thank you for telling me,” she said. “That’s all I needed.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, my face burning again. “It was just so intense… I couldn’t stop myself.”

“That’s perfectly alright, Sweetie,” she replied, her smile knowing and kind. “Sometimes these things just happen. What did you do?”

I hesitated, then admitted, “The exam was fairly routine… until he began the prostate part. I moaned.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and a soft understanding dawned. “Oh… so that’s when he knew,” she murmured, connecting the dots. "Did anything else happen?"

I hesitated, cheeks burning, my voice barely a whisper. “Yes…”

"Well,...?"

"His cock ended up in my mouth and my cum making a puddle on the floor."

"I wish I'd been there to see that. Did he make you clean it up?"

I hesitated, cheeks still burning with the rendition of these facts. “No… I just couldn’t help myself - force of habit - your training.”

She smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re such a good girl, Patty,” she murmured. “I’m proud of you.”

But then her expression shifted, a subtle gleam in her eyes, almost calculating. “And… you’ll have that follow-up appointment soon, right?”

I nodded, my throat tight, my words trembling under the weight. “Yes… in two weeks. And I’ll have to be dressed as Patty under my boy clothes.”

“You know you’ll have to show him what a good girl you are, won’t you?” Her voice was gentle, but it carried a quiet inevitability, like a command wrapped in comfort.

“Yes,” I whispered, feeling it crawl under my skin. “His voice… it’s hypnotic. I can’t ignore what he expects from me.”

Her hand stayed on mine, a tether, but it felt strange—comfort and pressure tangled together. “I’m proud of you, Patty,” she said, eyes warm yet probing. “Just remember—you’re never alone in this.”

I swallowed hard, the shame rising like a tide. “I don’t know why I didn’t want to tell. I was… weak. If I hadn’t moaned… maybe it would have been alright.”

She tilted her head, almost studying me. “I’m sure he noticed you shave… everywhere.”

“Yes,” I admitted, voice barely a breath. “That’s… how he figured it out. And… he called me a sissy.”

A shiver ran through me, equal parts fear and something darker—a fascination with being seen, exposed, yet compelled to obey.

Her smile curled on her lips, but it wasn’t warm anymore. It was knowing. "We'll have to show him what a good sissy you are," she said quietly. “I think you need to go to the bedroom and put your clitty cage on right now." Her Cheshire cat's grin appeared. "I'll even put it on for you. The next two weeks are going to feel like an eternity, Patty."

The words weren’t loud, but they echoed inside me, a promise and a threat rolled into one. My stomach knotted as the room seemed to shrink, her presence filling every inch of it.

Kimmie was right. The days that followed stretched out like a punishment, each hour sharpening the edge of my need. She knew exactly how to wind me tighter — a glance here, a whispered suggestion there — until even the feel of Patty’s soft clothes against my skin became another instrument of her control. Two weeks of it felt less like time passing than a slow dismantling of my will. With each passing day, I felt myself unraveling a little more, each moment leaving me more exposed, more fragile. By the day of the appointment, I was leaking a near steady stream so much so that I had to wear absorbent pad.

Arriving for my 5 PM appointment, I sank into a seat in the waiting area. My heart hammered, my hands slick with sweat. Fortunately, I'd spritzed on a little of Patty's favorite perfume, Riva Gauche by Yves St. Laurent, a small comfort against the storm inside me. My knee bounced uncontrollably, jerking up and down as if I were ready to bolt at any second, each movement a stark reminder of how exposed I felt—like everyone could see exactly why I was here.

The receptionist led me down the same hallway to the same examination room as before. The office felt quieter, probably because some of the staff had already left. It was near closing time.

Two taps on the door made my heart race, and it swung open. Dr. Feiler stepped in, as handsome and commanding as ever.

“Mr. O’Malley, it’s good to see you again. I hope you followed my instructions from your last visit,” he said, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes… yes, I did,” I replied, my voice tighter than I intended.

“Good.” His gaze sharpened. “Now, let’s see what’s hidden under those bulky boy clothes. You may undress with your back to me, if you prefer—it might spare you a little embarrassment. But first, put on this wig… and this lipstick. I do have a weakness for redheads.”

The suggestion felt merciful on the surface, but the weight of his eyes never lessened. My fingers fumbled at the buttons, each movement clumsy, betraying my nerves. Turning away only heightened the sensation of being watched, the air in the room thick with expectation.

I slipped off my shirt, then my undershirt, the fabric whispering as it fell from my hands. Behind me, I thought I heard a faint sigh—disappointment, perhaps. My stomach tightened.

“Is… is something wrong?” I asked, unable to keep the tremor from my voice.

“No,” Dr. Feiler replied, his tone steady, almost casual. Then, after a beat: “I just thought you might be wearing a bra. That’s all. Continue..."

Next to go were my jeans. I stood there with my back to Dr. Feiler, stripped of my façade, every layer peeled away until only the truth of me remained.

"Hmm, very nice. That red thong looks very sexy and you have a matching butt plug, too. Those lovely black stockings and garter belt really highlight your ass. Turn around, please."

The words landed with the weight of command. My pulse pounded in my ears as I hesitated, knowing the act of turning would expose everything. My body ached to resist, but part of me already leaned toward obedience.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'd hoped for, a clitty cage, and god yes, nipples clamps. No wonder you didn't wear a bra. I love it."

A hot flush spread up my throat to my face. I wanted to cover myself, to run, to hide — but instead I stood there, frozen under his eyes, feeling each second stretch longer than the last. It was as if the act of turning around had stripped away not just my clothes, but any last scrap of control.

With a curious tone, he asked, “When you’re like this… what do I call you?”

“Call me Patty,” I whispered, the sound barely leaving my throat.

He tilted his head slightly, studying me. “Could I call you Pat?”

“No…” I managed, my fingers trembling at my sides. “Please call me Patty when I’m exposed like this. It… it helps me feel feminine.”

He didn’t move, but the air between us changed — heavier, more intimate, almost as though my confession had given him a key. His smile was small but deliberate, a flicker of something unreadable behind his eyes.

He stood then stepped closer. His fingers brushed against the small chain dangling between the clamps, and with a sudden, deliberate tug he sent a sting lancing through me. The sharp jolt of pain and the surge of shame left me trembling, every nerve awake. My breath caught in my throat, my knees threatening to give way as a strange warmth flooded through me. My clitty began dripping.

"How long have you been caged?" His voice was calm, almost conversational, though his eyes pinned me in place.

"Since… since my last visit," I stammered, the words slipping out with more pride than I expected.

"Really? That long?" He tilted his head, studying me. "Did your wife notice anything?"

A shiver ran down my spine. I hesitated, then whispered, "No. She’s the one who put it on for me."

His brows lifted slightly, a flicker of intrigue crossing his face. "Really… so she knows about Patty?"

"Yes," I admitted, my voice trembling but certain. "She loves Patty and Patrick both. But… this is the longest Patty has ever been allowed out."

"Did she tease you the whole time?" His tone was mild, but the question landed like a probe beneath the skin.

"Yes," I confessed, the word slipping out before I could stop it. "It’s been a long two weeks. I’ve been constantly horny, and it only got worse with each passing day."

“I assume that your wife — what’s her name? — wears the pants in the family?” His tone was casual, but each word felt like a scalpel, cutting straight through my defenses.

"Yes," I admitted, my voice soft, almost reverent. "I do everything I can to please her. I love her so much. Her name is Kimberley."

He studied me for a moment, eyes lingering as if weighing my honesty. The silence stretched, making my chest tighten and my stomach tense with anticipation. Every second under his gaze made me feel smaller, more exposed, and yet compelled to remain perfectly still.

“Do you have a picture of your Kimberley?” he asked, his tone calm but probing.

“Yes… let me get my phone. Here she is,” I murmured, handing it to him with trembling fingers.

“Oh my,” he said, leaning closer, his eyes scanning the image. “She’s a beautiful woman… and definitely out of your league. Don’t you think?”

I swallowed hard, the sting of embarrassment and awe mingling together. “Yes… she’s incredible,” I whispered, my voice tightened to almost a squeak. “I’m lucky to have her.”

He held the phone for a moment, tilting it slightly as if to examine it from every angle. “So… this is the one who puts you in your place?” His voice was calm, yet every word stung like a slap in the face.

I nodded, unable to stop my hands from trembling. “Yes… she… she’s very important to me.”

He smiled faintly, a subtle, knowing in his eyes. “I can see that. And I imagine she knows exactly how you respond to her attention… how easily you obey her.”

Heat rose to my face. “Yes… she does,” I admitted, the words barely escaping. “I… I try to make her happy.”

He leaned back, still holding the phone, his gaze unwavering. “Interesting,” he murmured. “So she has this power over you, and yet here you are… standing before me, completely exposed. How does that feel?”

My stomach clinched. Every instinct screamed to hide, to resist, but I couldn’t move. “Vulnerable,” I whispered. “And… compelled. I can’t… I can’t look away.”

He hummed softly, almost approvingly. “Good,” he said. “That’s exactly what I wanted to see. How you respond when someone else’s control carries over… how it shapes you… teaches you.”

I swallowed hard, my body trembling, aware of every second of scrutiny. The room seemed to shrink, the air pressing down as if his gaze was the physical force weighing me down. My mind raced, caught between fear, shame, and the strange, undeniable pull of obedience.

“Patty,” he said at last, his voice low and measured, “I think it’s time for you to earn your prize. Unlock your phone and hand it to me.”

After handing him my phone, I knelt, and fumbling with his belt and zipper, pulled his underwear down. I'm sure that was a weird role reversal for him. He rubbed his warm, hard cock over my face and across my lips. I could smell his aroma. It was intoxicating. I needed to taste him.

My tongue darted out and lapped at his hardness. His flavor aroused my taste buds as I began taking him as deep as I could. I needed to please him like I do Kimmie. My fingers cupped his balls, lightly squeezing them while my salvia provided the lubricant for my oral cunt. He moaned, placing a hand at the back of my head guiding my actions and depth all the while continuing to video this encounter.

As I bobbed up and down on his magnificent meat, he asked, "Has Kimberley ever seen you suck a real cock before?"

"No… just our dildos."

"So this will be a real treat for her," he replied with an air of arrogance.

I could feel his nuts beginning to tense and his comments began to subside. I knew he was close as his cock throbbed in my wanton sissy mouth. His hips jerked and that warm flood of cum filled my mouth and senses. I gulped it down in several waves.

"Patty, keep sucking me until I get hard again," he commanded.

I obeyed, my mouth working eagerly as heat pooled between my legs.

It didn’t take long—he was as aroused as I was, though in a far more… commanding way.

With deliberate precision, he pulled a pair of gloves from the box on the wall, snapping them on with crisp, confident motions. My pulse quickened as he guided me to the exam table, leaning me over so my body was fully exposed, every nerve taut with anticipation.

"Let’s get that butt plug out," he murmured, his voice low and steady, "and fill you with what’s really meant to be there."

I felt his gloved fingers tug at the plug, and when it popped free, a sudden emptiness spread through me—a hollow void aching to be filled.

Bent over with my elbows braced against the table, I fixed my gaze on a single spot on the wall, clinging to it as my anchor. Then came the telltale squirt of lubricant—the sound alone sent a shiver racing down my spine—before the cool slickness pressed against my depths, prodding, teasing, threatening to breach.

This time his fingers slid in with ease, sinking to the knuckles in one smooth motion. He moved with a deliberate certainty, curling and probing until sparks of pleasure flared inside me. Each stroke teased higher, sharper, and my little clitty kept weeping, betraying just how much I craved more.

When the unmistakable sound of his zipper lowering filled the room, a rush of endorphins surged through me. I knew then I was about to experience something entirely new—something real, warm and human—inside me.

He withdrew his fingers, only to press his head against my gaping entrance, rubbing slowly, deliberately, coaxing more trembling anticipation from me. The sensation was beyond anything I had imagined. Then came the steady pressure, insistent and undeniable, as he began to push into me.

I wanted it—wanted him—so desperately. I longed to feel myself stretched, filled, claimed. Every part of me ached to surrender, to give him the reward I was offering freely, without hesitation.

His pace was agonizingly slow, like the drip of a faucet—drop by drop—each inch pressing deeper, teasing me with the promise of more while making me wait for every fraction he allowed. I felt impossibly full, yet still craved more—the rhythm of movement, the thrust and withdrawal, that would seal the moment and mark my cunt as his.

“Patty,” he murmured, his voice thick with control, “the video is catching every second of this. You’ll get to watch yourself later—see how eager you are, how perfectly you take it. I want you to remember what you look like when you finally surrender your all completely.”

The words sent a shiver through me, equal parts humiliation and heat. Knowing I was on display only made me arch back harder, desperate to give the performance he demanded... and make my Kimmie proud of her Patty. I realized then that I was performing for both of them—one I loved, and one I needed to take me apart, to fuck me senseless.

He bottomed out—fuck—so deep I couldn’t breathe. Then that cock dragged back, scraping my spot—Jesus—again, harder. My fingers locked on the table’s edge as his grip crushed my waist. Then he was slamming, pounding, balls smacking my ass again and again—fuck yes—don’t stop—harder—fuck me apart.

Instinct took over. I shoved my hips back into him, desperate for every brutal inch, clenching tight to milk him, to keep him buried in me. I wanted him to know it—I wanted to be the best fuck he’d ever had.

“Patty—fuck—your cunt’s so damn tight,” he groaned, breath hot against my ear. “God, I love fucking you.”

“Yes—fuck me—own my cunt—it’s all yours!” I blurted, words tumbling out between his pounding strokes.

“Louder,” he snarled, driving deeper, balls cracking against my ass. “Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m yours—fuck—I’m all yours!”

“Good girl,” he spat, slamming me harder. “Take it. Take every inch I give you. You exist for this cock. Say it!”

“I exist for your cock! Fuck—I’m yours! Use my cunt!”

“That’s right,” he growled, grip bruising my hips. “Beg me, Patty. Beg me like the filthy cunt you are.”

“Please—fuck—please ruin my cunt—fuck me until I can’t walk!”

“Yeah. That’s it. Take it. Take it all!” Every thrust sent shocks through me, my grip on the table tightening as my body trembled under him.

“Say it again,” he demanded. “Tell me you’re mine!”

“I’m yours! All yours! Fuck me, harder!”

“Now beg me to remember you—scream it!”

“Please—fuck—please remember me—use me—fuck me to the moon!”

With a final, brutal thrust he growled, his whole body shuddering. A hot flood spilled deep inside me—a surge I’d never felt before—and for a moment it was dizzying, almost unreal. Magical.

My clitty throbbed and oozed a steady stream of slick liquid, pooling heavily between my legs. We panted together, trying desperately to catch our breath. Kimmie had never taken me like this. It was brutal, unrelenting, completely overwhelming—but god, it was utterly satisfying. In that moment, trembling and spent, I felt completely transformed…soft, surrendered, utterly feminine, a true sissy.

Once we’d composed ourselves, he retrieved my butt plug, rinsing it off before holding it up in front of my face. “Patty,” he said, voice low and commanding, “you need to keep this inside you so you can feel every bit of me all the way home.”

“Yes…” I whispered, my lips trembling. “I don’t want to lose this feeling…not for a long time.”

He smirked, as a devious smile appeared across his lips as he traced the tip of the toy along my crease before pressing it back into my wanton, well-used cunt.

Once I was back in my boy clothes, Dr. Feiler nonchalantly mentioned, "Patty, I'd like to meet Kimberley. Make that happen."

I staggered out of the quiet room, every step heavy, like my legs were filled with lead. My body still trembled, slick and sore, every nerve raw and alive from what had just happened. The air outside hit me, cool and sharp against my flushed skin, but it did nothing to wash away the heat burning through me.

His parting words hit me like a runaway train—“I want to meet Kimberley. Make that happen.” My chest tightened. What would Kimmie say? Would she even understand what I had just become? My heart thumped, a mix of fear and excitement, and my clitty throbbed as the plug shifted inside me, reminding me that part of him was still with me, buried deep.

I fumbled with the car door, fingers slick, legs still trembling, every motion a reminder of how utterly dominated I was. The world outside the office seemed distant as the sunset was vanishing, muted, as if I were moving through a haze of arousal and anticipation. One thought dominated all others: whatever Kimmie’s reaction, nothing could erase the way he’d claimed me, the way I had given myself over completely—and how far I was willing to go to prove it. I hoped she'd be proud of her Patty.