When I got married to Trixie, practically everybody around
me said she was just after my money. And
being a reasonable logical guy, I listened and investigated. Sure, she came from a family of shysters. Sure, she had been married and divorced three
times over and had walked away with more and more money each time. Sure, I’m just the kind of guy she generally
targets. I’m shy, an introvert, quiet,
and like to be a lead by someone with a stronger will than me. Among my friends I’m always the number two
guy. I’m there at the right hand of
whomever is leading that particular outing or group activity helping them in
every single detail beyond the actual decision making.
My business manager pointed out that in an uncontested divorce
Trixie could end up with fifty millions.
I just smiled and told him that would leave me with fifty million
too. My friend reminded me that in a bad
divorce Trixie could get my Chicago condo, my Miami vacation home, and my
cottage up in the Adirondacks. I just
laughed and told him I’d wanted to buy new property for the past few years
anyway. And my brother tried to convince
me that Trixie would try to have children and get me for child support just to
get extra money. I couldn’t help but
shake my head and remind my brother that I always wanted children and would spend
my money on them anyway.
I think my laid-back attitude really grinded Trixie’s gears.
She loved to fight and argue and just had a fiery side to her that I’d often
agree to go along with her even if it was something I’d rather not do. You see, I’m not sure why I felt this way
because everybody was right. I had found
Trixie’s secretive email account and found out that she indeed plan to wait
until we had two children and would file a messy divorce. She was planning to come away with only thirty-five
million but a hefty alimony and child support settlement. She was directly targeting my Adirondacks
cabin and the Miami beach property, but really didn’t care for the hustle of
the Second City. But I didn’t care. At the end of the day I loved my little
firecracker and would give her just about anything.
Several years into our marriage we were starting to have
problems. Even my cool headedness wasn’t
enough to keep Trixie from going off the deep end. She actually at one point got up set because
I didn’t cheat on her with some floozy.
She didn’t know that I had seen the contract from Trixie and the whore
and knew it was a trap, but she still laid into me about it. I was about to suggest we go to some counseling
sessions, honestly hoping that she could realize that accepting me and staying
with me would be, at the very least, more profitable as she’d get ALL of my
stuff. It’s not like I demanded she stay
by my side or tried to account for all the money she spent. Trixie disagreed with the counseling, saying
that we were beyond such trivial attempts and instead suggested a school for
couples. There the couple would learn to
love each other through some extreme measures, but guaranteed results.
I had my lawyer investigate it and found out that it was
beyond mysterious. It was privately
funded and owned so there were no public records to find. There was no paperwork about anybody ever
going there, but it had been in business and owned the property it was located
on for over 50 years. Even the people in
the surrounding town were tight lipped about it and wouldn’t’ say a bad word
about the place. Of course my lawyer recommended
I not go, but I signed up for the treatment as I wanted to give the marriage
every chance I could.
My friends, business partners, family, and lawyer searched
for me for six months. Trixie continued
living in my home, spending my money, and not saying anybody to anyone about me
other than saying I was traveling the world and might never come back. When my lawyer burst in to the school the first
time he thought the whole trip there must have been a ruse, as it was a very
private and very exclusive school for girls.
Technically, he had found the truth.
He just didn’t realize it was a business using the extreme schooling of
teaching men how to be polite, quiet, obedient girls. I had been there for two months at that time
which means I was probably already unrecognizable. My face had been through a dozen cosmetic
procedures making me look as fine and feminine as any model. My waist had been nipped in by two surgeries
and the constant application of a corset which also shifted my fat down into my
hips and rear. That process was
augmented by the hormones that would have eventually given me breasts if they
hadn’t given me breast augmentation surgery landing me with a pair of big firm
beautiful double Ds. My body and facial
hair had been lasered away leaving me with just thin eyebrows, a small pubic
patch, and baby smooth skin everywhere else.
The final indignity was the vocal correction surgery. Even the medical team there admitted it was
experimental and had a 30% chance of outright success, giving me a beautiful
lilting ultra-feminine voice, a 40% chance of reducing me down to a half
feminine half masculine whisper, and a 30% chance of utter failure, taking my
voice away entirely.
In all these procedures I was lucky and got the best results. Even as I stood in front of my dorm rooms
mirror, I had to admit there was no recognizing me. I was beautiful and it looked like they had
taken 10 years off of me. Once I was
deemed medically fit, they started me on the classes. I was a bit embarrassed to find out that half
the student body were actual girls and they were given the impression this was
just a strict old-fashioned prep school.
Most of them would move on to graduation and enter college as a junior. Half of my classes were spent with them,
going over subjects I hadn’t studied for a dozen years. The rest of my classes were more specific to
my position. They were teaching me how
to be a properly behaved Stepford wife.
I’d love to say that was an exaggeration, but I think that’s where they
got their ideas of femininity. Quiet, obedient,
caring and loving toward their men. I
saw a lot of the ‘new’ girls fight this and also saw the school’s method for
such defiance. Shock collars, solitary
confinement, and eventually giving up on them and simply selling them off to be
used in foreign brothels. It looks like
to making us over this beautifully could earn the school tens of millions of
dollars, even without the training.
I cried about being placed here for a week or so, but as I
often did, I just put my head into success instead of looking backward and at
my failures. I also cried about Trixie,
but only in that she still hadn’t cracked into the tender heart I knew she
had. With my mind toward success and throwing
myself into the studies, both traditional and feminizing, I was soon skilled
and being looked at as a tutor for the more defiant girls. Oh sure, I had to go through all the classes
that every other girl did. I took
walking in Ultra High Heels, Dressing For Your Man in Bed, Satisfying His Carnal
Urges, and even A Lady In The Living Room And A Whore In The Bedroom. I learned to cook, clean, and wash
laundry. I learned to fuck, suck, and blow.
After half a year, I
found a way to contact my family.
Through my finances that they still had access to and that Trixie hadn’t
siphoned off, they finally bought their way into the school. It took quite awhile to convince them I was
actually me and not some part of Trixie’s twisted deceitful plans, but
eventually they all recognized me. Or at
least my mind and soul. I gave them
several hours to vent their anger, remembering that it took me weeks to work
through that myself. They suggested
everything from buying the school to suing the school. From burning it down to the ground to simply
breaking in and rescuing all the girls there.
When they started to slow down, I told them all my plan. They were hesitant at first, and it took a
lot of convincing, but they finally agreed.
Trixie turned out to be one of the more difficult students
in class. She commonly went off on fits of
screaming and demanding to be let out before calming down herself or having the
staff calm her down. I was often brought
in to help her since I excelled at almost anything and was the very first
person to graduate from the New Girl school and remain on to help all the troublemakers. I was there holding her hair back as she
learned to fellate her first man. I was
there in her algebra class, helping her understand the questions. I even helped her with her Ultra High Heels
homework and helped her pick out what was appropriate for that night’s Dressing
For Your Man In Bed class.
She’s actually coming along quite well. Sure, she’s going to take a few more years
than me, but I believe she’ll eventually graduate and be my loving wife
again. It’ll take a new wedding as
neither of our identities survived the purchase of the school and the radically
revamping of its business practices. But
as I gently rub her clit while she anally rides the teacher for her A Lady In The
Living Room And A Whore In The Bedroom mid-term, I know that we’ll be able to
make it through anything. Afterall, it’s
both reasonable and logical.
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I have to add a little to the bottom of this. I don't know what overcame me, but MAN have I been on a writing spree today (today = December 1st, 2019). On Sundays I'll generally look at fuskator and feel good if I can make a quick cap or Obscura. If I can make two, letting me post one and post the other one a few days later, I'm near ecstatic! Well, this was an odd holiday weekend all around.
Thanksgiving morning I made Masculinity Sucks. Before posting it, I wanted to try and make a holiday cap, so that effort eventually became Thanks and Giving. Obviously, I posted Thanks and Giving and figured I'd post Masculinity Sucks on Saturday. When Saturday rolls around the only thing on my head is the Michigan Vs Ohio State game. After a quick image search I got the idea for Rivalry and really dived into that story. As it was time relevant, I went ahead and posted it.
The next morning I wasn't going to post anything as I have Masculinity Sucks ready for Monday, but I still liked to maintain the habit. I honestly thought I was going to look and strike out. I mean, whens the last time I made three caps and/or obscuras in a week? Well magic was obviously happening as I started writing Modern Feminism around 8 AM and just now finished with this at a quarter to six. Almost 10 hours of writing, leading me to two caps and three obscuras! That in addition to the two obscuras on Thanksgiving and the one on Saturday.
That's eight creative efforts in four days! I honestly can't recall the last productive run I had like that. Like most caps/obscuras, the quality dips and flows, but I think there are some good stories here in addition to the remaining average content.
I don't think this will mean anything long term as I've also started writing and playing at D+X again, so that's going to be a tap on my creative juices, but man... could I start making caps regularly again?
Hope you enjoyed everything... and you'll know if I've found intermittent creativity if I have another post in two days!
source: fuskator
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