"What the hell took you so long, you idle slug!" inquired Sylvia, not raising her eyes from her magazine.

"Pardon me, Madam, I-I thought It best to turn the iron off . . . i-in case you required me to perform any lengthy duties.. . I'm really, dreadfully sorry for my delay ... I know I should have. . .

"Alright, alright!" frowned his long­suffering wife, talking half into her martini glass. "Have you nearly finished your ironing?"

"W-w-well I th-think I have finished all your knickers, Madam . . ."

"For heaven's sake, answer me straight - have you nearly finished?" "I've got another one of your petticoats to do, Madam, and three of mine," replied the trembling husband. "Well you'd better look sharpish," replied his wife; "Ray is coming round tonight, and he'll be here any minute. Get out!"

"Y-yes, Madam, I'll get my uniform ready," stammered the poor nineteen­year-old husband, retreating to the door.

His haste went for nothing, however, for as he was halfway up the stairs, a chime at the front door told him that Mr Adams was here already, and he had to hurry down again. He hesitated momentarily in front of the hall mirror - there would be all hell to pay if his appearance didn't suit his position of Pantie-Pansy ... Sylvia's guests only had to pass some stray remark of disapproval, and the poor young man's life would change from awful to unbearable. He straightened his built-up platinum blonde hair (it should have been dark brown, but his wife had bleached it) and put his hair-slide in again neatly. A quick turn to each side to see that there were no bits of fluff on his high-necked white angora jumper, and he raised the bottoms of his pink courtelle slacks to check his red patent Baby Jane shoes ... Yes, they were nice and shiny - lucky he had sewn that loose button on tightly again ... He scurried towards the door . . . Oh horrors! He remembered just in time that Mr Adams preferred his angora jumper outside the elastic waist of his slacks . . . He pulled it out desperately andmade himself as presentable as he could, and then opened the door. "Good evening, Sexless ... Are you pleased to see me?" Alexis wished he wouldn't get his name wrong like that. "Why yes, Mr Adams Sir," replied the slim youthful husband, stepping back head bowed into his deep reverent curtsey, his hands at arms' length holding wide the hem of an imaginary skirt.

"Stand up, Sexless my dear," said the visitor, taking the nearest hand and caressing the delicate smooth flesh of Alexis' wrist and forearm. "Are you sure you are pleased to see me, little Sexless?"

Alexis knew better than to resist the sarcastic wet kisses that were being planted on his hand: "I-I'm very pleased to see you again Sir ... I-I'm thrilled that you could come and s-spend a pleasant evening with my Mistress Sylvia . . ."

Now come on, Sexless," pursued Adams, lifting the embarrassed chin of the nineteen-year-old with his fingertips so that Alexis had to look him straight in the eye. "Are you really, really delighted to see me again?"

Alexis was beside himself with shame gnawing at his stomach, and his long mascarade lashes were only just holding back the ready tears as he fought to overcome the hollow gulps in his throat in order to make an answer. "Oh Mr Adams, Sir, (gulp) I-I'm ... I'm absolutely de-LIGHT-ed that you, my very best friend, c-could come tonight to help me in my lessons and teach me (gulp) t-to be a husband s-some day." 

Poor Alexis's face had flushed to a bright red, which was the more noticeable for his permed platignum hair.

"Alright then, my little tomato," growled Adams, pushing the front door too with his foot and practically slinging Alexis across the hall towards the living-room door, "get inside and be sure to show me how pleased you say you are."

The terrified youth was all of a quiver as he held the living-room door open for his wife's guest (who stepped with his full weight on Alexis's foot in passing by way of course) and announced his arrival: "Mr Adams, my dear friend Ray, has come to see you, Mistress."

"Hi honey, you savage beast!" and as Adams sank to his knees, the better to receive her affections, Alexis Bjorgensson - despite his hopeless sense of shameful inadequacy - felt that far too familiar prickling up the back of his neck and throughout the roots of his hair, as the back of the sofa limited his view of the welcome to the tender caresses of his wife's hands asshe drew the head of her lover onto her warm lips; and as each gasp of her escaping lips caught a breath between kisses, panging waves of jealousy swept up through his body, even though he knew quite well that he could not expect his wife to switch her admiration and affections from a county rugby player to such an undeveloped and unmanly lightweight as himself.

Adams interrupted his enjoyable greetings to cast a look of mock surprise over the back of the sofa to the door where Alexis was waiting obediently, hands by his side.

"Well, Sexless, why arn't you getting into your uniform!"

"Go and get it on quick, you twit!" came his wife's voice from the depths of the sofa. "No, wait a minute ... Go and get it, and bring it down here ... we'll dress you ourselves." The two of them cackled with self-satisfaction at this, and were plunging back into their embraces as Alexis ruefully closed the door behind him and hurried upstairs to get his hateful little-schoolboy costume out of the wardrobe in the nursery. One minute later, he was politely knocking again at the living­room door. He was answered by a couple of distant giggles, and ten minutes later, was told to come in.

He opened the door, his costume neatly draped over one arm, and  moved forward to stand respectfully in front of the sofa, where Adams was moving into a sitting position and Sylvia was just sitting up too, straightening her hair. "Put your nice little clothes over the back of that chair, Drip!" she snarled coldly, "and bring it over here."

The young husband did as he was bidden, and felt his trembles getting beyond the point where he could control them as he positioned the chair within reach of his wife and stood as straight and as still as he could beside it.

"Come closer," she beckoned with her hands, and Alexis inched forward so that the rounded toes of his red shoes were touching his wife's sandal and her lover's elegant boot. Adams smoothed a hand down the outside of the youth's pink slacks, and then slowly up the inside of the thigh, until his tormenting fingers found the defenceless private organs in the crutch and began to play with them. Alexis involuntarily tried to bury his face in the breast of his angora jumper, and his fingers stretched as wide as they could beside his thighs, absolutely forbidden to attempt to resist any treatment he might be given ... It was, after all, totally deserved, as his wife and mistress never stopped telling him. "Oh. . . I'm sure you really like it when Ray does that for you, don't you, you Pansy?" smiled his wife at him with a contemptuous wrinkle in her lip.

"Y-yes sir, I enjoy it very m-much." "Well that's all you're getting for now, Sexless because we want to undress you, don't we," and he reached up with both arms to raise Alexis's jumper up to his armpits.

The trembling, red-faced husband thought it best to help, and started to draw the jumper up his raised arms.

"Leave that!" ordered his wife. "Were going to do that;" so Alexis stood obediently, hands above his head and face hidden in his white jumper, as his wife's guest drew the ruched elastic waist of his slacks down his thighs and snapped the elastic to just above the trembling knees.

"Very sweet," he observed to Alexis; "yes, very sweet knickers indeed, Sexless." The white jumper hid the added depth of shame on the youth's face produced by these words, accompanied by the tinkling chuncles of his wife - she thought the Sun shone out of Ray Adam's backside and she delighted in all the little ways he could make her pansy husband squirm and grovel. The knickers in question were in pastel pink nylon, not as skimpy as briefs, but still revealing as much of the smooth pink skin of Alexis's thighs as possible and a good half of his bottom-lobes. A narrow trim of white lace round the elastics, and a panel of embroidered buttercups at the front of each leg led the eye of the observer to the little male members, nestled compactly in the pink gusset. Ray Adams stood up beside the helpless, defenceless youth, spread his large hands across the awaiting stomach and small of the back, and threaded his fingers inside the waist elastic, slowly and tantalisingly working his fingertips down the cleft of the cool buttocks and down the smooth-shaven belly, until tamed penis and testes were cupped in his hand, and the fingertips of both hands were touching between the embarrassed legs.

The emasculated husband was powerless to prevent his knees buckling beneath him with a gasp and his weight was supported on the fondling hands of his wife's lover. He felt his slacks being drawn down and off his feet, and his wife's hand smacking his bare exposed legs to get them wide apart. While Adams continued to enjoy the manipulations in which he was engaged, Sylvia stood up on the other side of her suffering husband and pulled his angora jumper off over his head. "Hands by your side!" she snapped. She unbuttoned the front of his white silk bodice and slid it off his shoulders and down his arms. A couple of sharp smacks on the back of his bare legs told him to bring his  knees together, and Ray Adams drew the nylon panties down the victim's legs.

The two of them sat down on the sofa again to contemplate the misery of the shamed husband, standing before them in white ankle socks and tight-fitting red patent girls' shoes. Alexis longed to cover his privates with his hand, but that, he knew, would be unforgivable. The manual attentions he had just received had erected him, and he knew he was on exhibit.

"F--- me, just look at it!" scorned his wife, sitting back on the sofa and viewing Alexis's penis with abject disgust. "That's all we're going to get, honey ... That's it!"

"What a bleeding' half-grown poppet!" sneered Ray Adams; "It's like a toy prick for Action Man ... Do you really mean that's as big as it gets?"

"Sure is, honey . . . In fact you've done a good job there - you've hit the jackpot." She laughed, and reached out a finger to flick the exposed member.

Adams was laughing too, and he sat forward to examine it closely. "But that must be less than four inches?" he marvelled.

"Three and three eights to be precise," laughed Sylvia, getting up to begin redressing the naked unfortunate.

"I don't believe it can't get any bigger than that!" exclaimed her paramour with a smile of disbelief.

"The absolute limit, honestly," she assured him, getting Alexis to put his arms through the shoulder-ribbons of his nylon camisole and drawing it together behind his shoulder blades to tie the ribbon at the yoke and fasten the two little mother-of-pearl buttons down the back. "And that's the fattest it ever gets too," she laughed.

Adams fluffed out the lace-trimmed hem of Alexis's flared white camisole, hanging effectively from the narrow pink shoulder ribbons, leaving his shoulders bare and extending from his armpits almost to the bottom of his ribs. He put his index finger against the side of the tumescent member, and burst out into uncontrollable laughter. "Look at that, Vi ... It's smaller than my finger!!!” 

Sylvia was picking up her husband's schoolboy blouse.

"You fibber ... There's no need to exaggerate, Raymond Adams; I should say they're exactly the same size!" and they collapsed together in a heap of helpless laughter on the sofa, leaving Alexis to suffer in the wake of their scorn.

"Come on," said Sylvia eventually, standing up. "Let's get the thing dressed and out of the way. Oh look, Raymond . . . You've made him cry! You are nasty," and she burst out laughing again.  '

The tears were indeed running down both cheeks of the whimpering male, who made a pitiful sight in his white shortie camisole, his bare arms hanging limply by his sides, and his smooth bare legs looking so long and slim.

"Ah, but he's really enjoying himself," replied Adams with mock seriousness, standing up on the other side of Alexis "Aren't you, Sexless?"

The tears burst out in an uncontrol­lable flow of weeping as the husband tried to no avail to voice his required agreement.

"I'm not having this, you Punk," snarled Adams, his mood changing in a flash, and he grabbed the arm of the youth and swung him across his knee as he sat down again on the sofa. "You'll cut that crying out if the effort kills me; and he rained down vicious slaps with the full weight of his hand on the pale bare buttocks. Sylvia held the desperate defensive arms of her husband out of the way between his shoulder blades.

"I can hold them," exclaimed Adams, grabbing both bare arms in one of his and re-adjusting the youth across his knees to expose bottom and legs more effectively. "Warm the back of his legs for him ... Give it all you've got, Vi," and a rapid torrent of ringing smacks rained down on the back of the defenceless pair of legs from waist to ankles.

Eventually, it ceased, when both the smackers were feeling they'd had enough. Adams stood the quivering young victim on his feet, where he could scarcely stand upright with the contraction of his stinging reddened skin. At !east he had managed to staunch his crying, which would deflect further chastisement, for the time being.

"Now, as I was saying, young Master Sexless," murmured Adams with menace as he rose to tower over the smarting youth, "Tell your best friend here if you are having a nice time."

"Mm - mmum - I-I-nnng gulp". . . Alexis struggled to overcome the deep sobs of shame and do as he was told . . . "I-I- I-I'm having a lovely, nice evening, Sir ... Th-thank you SO much for I-I-letting me play with you . . ."

Ray Adams seemed to be satisfied with this.

"Come on,`  Ray; let's hurry and get him finished with," urged Sylvia, who had her mind on more serious fun on the bed upstairs. "Get his velvet shorts ready for him while I'm doing up his blouse."

The blouse finished with, she drew his flimsy lace-trimmed panties up his legs, and they got him down on the carpet for the job of beshorting him. Alexis didn't enjoy this bit, as his dark brown velvet shorts were rather tight. His shoes and his socks had to come off or they would never have got the shorts over the widest part of his feet. With a lot of squeezing and pulling, the soft velvet garment was eased above the red, smarting calves and over the delicate knees of the whimpering husband, whose raw buttocks were being mercilessly pulled to and fro on the carpet by the gyrations required. His mistress holding one cuff and Adams holding the other, the main job of getting the tight shorts into place over his nylon knickers began.

"Thumbs in mouth, little boy," ordered Adams . . . Alexis was never allowed to !end a helping hand at this stage; his arms had to be kept well out of the way.

The tedious process of inching these shorts up her husbands baby-soft thighs exasperated Sylvia ... loads of effort and a!! their combined strength to gain just quarter of an inch at a time; but the final reward was going to make it all worth while. When they finally reached the line of the buttocks, the little schoolboy's penis had to be positioned downwards into the gusset, and his pelvis thrust as far forward as possible, with his girlish buttocks pressed closely together. Another ten minutes of heaving and squeezing and master and mistress would be able to fasten the rows of delicate guilt hooks and eyes down the back of the brief restricting garment. With the hem of his blouse tucked (with difficulty) into his shorts, and the little pop fasteners pressed shut at the back of his waistband, Ray Adams and Sylvia lifted their humiliated victim onto his feet - with such tight shorts gripping his pelvic., it was impossible for the nineteen-year-old little schoolboy to produce more than a slight bend at the hips, and out of the question for him to manage to get upright from a reclining position.

"Now ... let's take a look at you," said Sylvia, standing back to see what else needed doing. Alexis stood motionless, his hips thrust forward, his knees and ankles pressed together, and his head bowed in embarrassment. His smooth cream blouse in cire nylon was virtually sleeveless with lace­trimmed cuffs just below the point of the shoulder. The round collar, some four inches in width, was edged with the same self-coloured !ace and softly !ay flat across his shoulders. Matching !ace panels decorated the front of the bodice, on either side of the row of small white pearled buttons that fastened it down the front. Sylvia and her lover had replaced their school­boy's socks with cream ankle socks edged with white !ace, which turned down sweetly over the edge of the apple green patent one-strap shoes that they had just squeezed onto his feet.

"Turn round, you Crumb," ordered Sylvia, taking the wide waist sash from the back of the chair, and she slipped the luxurious ribbon of double-faced apple green satin round Alexis's waist and fastened a large butterfly bow at the back, leaving sweet green drapes hanging to six inches below the bottoms of the brown velvet shorts. Adams had removed the pink plastic hair comb, and replaced it with Alexis's brown felt panama hat decorated with its green satin hatband. He flicked the elastic sharply into place under the schoolboy's smooth hairless chin,  so that the wide-rimmed hat was well pulled down over the platignum waves. Finally, the white cotton wrist length gloves were squeezed into place and the tiny glass buttons fastened down the palm of the hand. Alexis'sinability to prevent the whimpering sobs escaping from his pouting mouth made him look a truly sorry sight.

He was set on his stool (with these shorts on, it was impossible to put him on his usual low chair bought from the infants' school) carried to his high desk, and given his pencil and paper.

"Now Sexless," instructed Adams, "your essay tonight will be entitled 'Fifty good reasons why my Mistress Sylvia should invite gentlemen friends to the house to laugh at me', and every one of the reasons must have the words 'baby penis' coming into it. When you've finished six sides, you will start your lines: 'I must keep on trying to be masculine, even though it is hopeless.' We expect you to have completed at least 2,000 by the time we come down to examine your work. Get going!"

Alexis found himself on his own, and knew only too well that every second was precious if he was to complete all his lines in time. He had been hard at his essay for some ten minutes, having concocted some frightfully embarrassing details to write about which made his stomach turn with shame at the cowardice of his fearful obedience, when his wife popped her head round the door and informed him in a voice of bitter contempt:

"My mother's just been on the phone to say she's coming tomorrow and staying till the weekend, and she's bringing Auntie Freda with her."

"Oh no!" thought Alexis to himself. "Two extra lots of underwear to wash, and five days without a moments peace!" Visits from his mother-in-law were dreaded episodes, because she insisted on having him dressed as a little girl, or even as a little baby girl; however, even she wasn't as bad as her fifteen stone sister - a soured old maid if ever there was one!

But at least it meant there would be no more of his wife's boyfriends around until after they had gone . . .