Milk Maid

As usual, I woke up early this morning with a start. I had to quickly put on my standard maid uniform
to serve my mistress and master. But in the evening, my master liked me to dress up a bit more glamorously. He liked
me to be like a "French maid," in a black satin maid uniform with lace trim all over, plus a ruffled apron and
maid's hat, along with stiletto heels and fishnet stockings. He always liked me to wear jewelry, spray perfume,
apply makeup, and liked to choose various wigs for me to wear at all times. Of course, my hair and
makeup always had to be perfect. I was a superwoman they had trained. It seemed like this wealthy couple was quite
ordinary, but they were the kind of extremely eccentric and idle couple because I was a man, or rather,
I used to be a man!

I only met Bob Cole and Carol Cole three years ago through an advertisement in the newspaper.
At that time, I had just crossed the border from Mexico and was traveling around this beautiful country. When I ran out of money, I
decided to apply for a job. After finding the Cole family and seeing their mansion, I tried to get a job with them
doing housework. I figured it would be temporary, maybe a driver or gardener. I told
them I could manage the household and enjoyed cooking, and they took me on, giving me a chance to help them with
their lives .

Bob worked in town, and while he wasn't the richest man in the area, he was efficient at
making money, squeezing every penny out of him. He did run businesses, but his comfortable
income mainly came from his real estate rentals. Bob collected rent from the Cole Commercial Building and a large number of
apartment rentals, a more stable source of income compared to his business ventures. Carole looked after
a large women's lingerie and fashion store and a large daycare center, which were just
a small part of the large commercial and residential properties Bob owned.

It happened like this: that afternoon I was cleaning the house alone. When I entered the master
bedroom , I casually opened a drawer and discovered it was full of Mrs. Cole's lingerie. My heart immediately began
to itch with desire. Since I was sixteen, I'd loved women's underwear, always lingering in front of the lingerie counters when shopping
, secretly longing to wear and admire them. From then on, whenever I was home alone, I would frequently
explore Carole's closet, trying on all her clothes from head to toe! But one afternoon, Carole
unexpectedly came home and caught me red-handed!

I thought she would be furious, and I would be fired immediately. Instead, Carole looked at me and burst into laughter. My
outfit was truly awful, my makeup amateurish; I looked like a bizarre,
androgynous clown. Her laughter finally stopped, and she told me she didn't mind what I wore, as long as I
kept the house clean and continued to cook delicious meals.

Then, she offered to help me dress up, saying, "I can make you look amazing right away! I'll dress you up in suitable
clothes , with good makeup and a little training, and you'll look elegant and
graceful, like a perfect lady." She smiled and added, "I'll make this a really fun
project." She said she "liked challenges." I'm quite small, only about 5 feet 5
inches barefoot. Carol said it was luck; she could make me look like a striking woman much easier.

Six months have passed, and although I've been uneasy about Carol's plans, I've
somehow

That very night, Carol first brought back a lot of clothes suitable for me from her women's lingerie store
. She even brought bras, cosmetics, women's wigs, and several pairs of high heels, filling my new
wardrobe. Then Carol spent almost three hours dressing me up. Finally, she took me downstairs to show Bob, who had just
returned home .

Bob thought the same as Carol; perhaps they saw it more as entertainment. He immediately decided
to dress me more femininely, suggesting I wear a "French maid" style outfit.
Carol nodded in agreement. So, dressed as a woman, I began to act as a maid, preparing
dinner for them. During dinner, Carol mentioned she always wanted a daughter, even having chosen a name:
Priscilla , but hadn't been able to conceive. That did seem strange! She immediately used that name on me, though she
preferred to call me "Priscilla."

Over the next few weeks, I was gradually transformed. Carol meticulously introduced me to
the fashions of women's beauty and clothing, but she preferred to dress me like a 1950s housewife!
She dressed me like a perfect mistress, having me teeter on the edge
of my seat I cleaned the house. Never before had I lived and worked like a woman, day and night. She
redecorated my room in soft pink tones, laid out a rug, and
replaced all the old furniture with elegant French-style pieces, even adding a large dressing table for me! Then I noticed that all my men's
clothes and accessories had disappeared, along with my wallet and documents. It wasn't until that day
that I realized I had been living like a woman for quite some time.

Carol had been relentlessly training me to improve my appearance, manners, and poise. She started by wearing a tight
corset around my waist, constricting me with straps for what she called "body shaping,"
trying to sculpt my waist, hips, and breasts. But as time went on, the corset's straps tightened
further. Each time, Carol used unimaginable strength to tighten the corset.
The shrinking made my hips protrude alluringly, and the strong compression of the corset against my ribcage forced my chest
muscles to bulge, giving me a surprisingly realistic-looking woman's bust. It seemed Bob could always
sense my sexiness. I noticed that whenever I faced him fully clothed, his "tent" would
form, and he would usually quietly slip away. Until one night, he told me I was a truly
"excellent" maid and asked me to provide him with more "personal" services! Shortly after that night,
my duties were expanded to include giving Bob blowjobs! I disliked this job but
decided to put up with it. But then more changes occurred.

My hips seemed to have become fuller, and my breasts, which had initially become soft, gradually
grew larger. My areolas and nipples not only became larger but also a distinctly deep red. I told
Carol about this. She giggled and said this was just the beginning, that I was still in the process of developing into a woman! She said she had
been giving me high doses of estrogen, adding it to my food and drinks every day to ensure
every cell in my body had sufficient estrogen for a long time! She said I was originally a very feminine
man who enjoyed housewife-like work, and that I shouldn't stay at my current level but cooperate with her in continuing my feminine development in all
aspects . She also mentioned that Bob really liked my "vaginal sex," saying he desperately wanted
me to change completely and was waiting to enjoy even greater pleasure with me! Then, she added breast enhancement cream to my routine
and said I should use a breast pump every night to make my nipples and areolas grow faster and become more
like .

I thought this was going too far and decided to leave, telling Carol I didn't want to
continue . I started to become a bit domineering, lax in my work, and for several days in a row, my dinners were haphazard.
That night, Carol was furious. She summoned Bob and dragged me into my room. They pinned me
to the bed, Bob pressing down on me, while Carol took out a syringe and a syringe. She filled the syringe with the liquid
and quickly lifted my skirt, pulling down my embroidered shorts. After rubbing alcohol on my buttocks, I
felt a stinging pain, and I felt her recklessly pushing the syringe down!

She was now injecting me with the maximum dose of estrogen. "I don't want to waste time with you. Stop
your pointless actions now, dear Priscilla," Carol said.

She had also given me a progesterone-type medication to completely suppress my testosterone production.
A week later, I was taken to a clinic. This time, Carol had a surgeon remove my testicles; now all I
had was a loose penis and an empty scrotum!

In the following months, without the effects of the testicles, and with the continued injections of high doses of estrogen, my
breasts truly swelled! I developed from a 34"B to a 34"C and then continued to expand to a 36"D"! When
Carol transformed my breasts into a 36"DD", I was forced to undergo sex reassignment surgery. My lower body was no longer a
loose penis and an empty sac; I now have a pair of smooth, shiny, and protruding labia and a
vagina with normal sexual function! From then on, I no longer had to worry about my future gender.

It didn't take long before I began fulfilling my new "wife" duties to Bob. Carol moved into my
room , and I moved into the master bedroom to satisfy Bob's sexual desires. Carol seemed happy to no longer worry about sexual
issues; as a woman in her forties, she was only willing to indulge in the pleasures of life and was unwilling to
endure the sexual responsibilities of a wife day after day.

So now things are like this. Every night, I have sex with Bob on satin sheets in my pajamas,
and then in the morning, I get up, get dressed, put on makeup, and do housework like a perfect old-fashioned housewife. Cooking,
cleaning , and providing sexual services to Bob are my main tasks. Sometimes Carol would summon me to serve her. She
liked to sit on the sofa listening to music and have me crawl under her skirt to give her oral sex. They seemed very satisfied with their little
Priscilla , and I gradually got used to my new identity. But due to the increased progesterone
I took every day, my breasts continued to grow! Carol kept buying me new clothes, and my bra size
kept getting bigger. The daily hormones and corsets sculpted my wasp waist, my womanly
hips, and my droopy, swaying breasts! One evening, with a big smile on her face, she measured me
with satisfaction and found I was a 44 "dd"!

"Wow, what a great figure," she murmured, "Your breasts are bigger than mine now!"
Based on my body's development, Carol kept buying me new clothes that fit my body shape,
and she continued her body-shaping work. While I did my daily chores in high heels, Bob
liked to sit beside me, watching my full breasts rise and fall, watching my hips sway in the breeze. Just as I felt
my breasts getting bigger and my chest feeling very heavy, one night, Carol gave me a huge
shock. She first massaged each of my breasts, then started twisting my nipples. I was horrified to see milk bursting from
my nipples —so white, so much, spraying everywhere! This made Carol very happy.

She gave me a breast pump and taught me how to express milk myself. When my breasts felt
engorged, I used them to express the milk and make myself feel better. Carol required me
to express milk 3 to 4 times a day and to put the expressed milk in bottles and then refrigerate it all.
I wondered why she did this; did she not want to waste the milk and wanted to take it to her
daycare ? I hated everything she did to me.

"Do you feel so feminine now?" she chuckled as she led me to bed, adding besides
saying goodnight , "The body shaping program isn't over yet; there are still some good things waiting for you to experience. Darling,
I don't want to deprive you of this wonderful experience."

About a week later, I got up to begin my day's chores. Bob had already gone to work.
Carol brought a new slip and a bra into the room, telling me she would help me get dressed that day. I
went into the bathroom, the warm water from the showerhead flowing over my body, the soap gently lathering me. Not wanting to keep Carol
waiting , I quickly washed myself clean, applied fragrant ointment, sprinkled on some perfume, and stepped out of the shower.

I quickly put on my lace-trimmed panties, pulled up my pantyhose, and then turned to face Carol.
Carol had me lean forward and pressed a new bra against my drooping breasts. My breasts were full of milk,
and my nipples were quite swollen; she touched them and seemed very pleased. Carol quickly fastened the small
hooks , adjusting it to a comfortable position for my breasts! Carol helped me put on a white satin
corset, tightening the straps to hug my waist. She added a
silk petticoat that hugged my thighs tightly, followed by a knee-length chiffon petticoat. Then she helped me put on a
dress popular in the 1950s, buttoned at the front and cinched tightly around my tiny waist.
Straps. After I put on my high heels, Carol led me to the dressing table. She looked me over carefully
and said, "Darling, you don't need makeup or a wig today." She
removed the wig that covered my short hair. I've always kept my hair short, and Carol always liked to change the style of
my , saying she wanted me to have a variety of looks.

We walked through the living room to the kitchen. Through the window, I saw a white van with the sign "Carl
Zhatorium " backing up into the garage. Then there was a knock at the door, and two women who looked like caregivers
pushed a strange wheelchair into the house. Although I strongly objected to getting into this odd wheelchair,
the women worked together and forced me into it. I had no idea what was happening! They lifted my
skirt and tied my knees and ankles with straps. Then they used another strap
to tightly bind my waist to the back of the chair, and my arms and wrists were also wedged to the two armrests, making it impossible for me to move.

The ladies opened a package and took out a wig and a mask. I immediately understood why I
didn't need a wig or any makeup today. I could see that the mask was a smiling, beautiful face. One
woman grabbed my head tightly, while another woman forced a plug into my mouth and then
tightened the strap at the end of the plug behind my head! I couldn't speak, and even swallowing was difficult. The ladies pulled
the rubber ! It was like a pocket. I tried to shake my head, but it was no use. Faced with my predicament,
Carol giggled. One lady pressed the smiling mask against my face, and a nostril tube was pushed into
my nose. The lady behind me pulled the rubber mask back, tightly covering my head all at once,
which was very uncomfortable.

I heard Carole say, "Darling, from now on you will abandon your pointless resistance and learn to be
a pure maid and 'housewife.'" Through my eyelids, I saw a woman insert a tube through
the lip hole of my mask into the rubber gag in my mouth. She activated the hidden valve on the tube, and a large amount of air
rushed into my mouth, my cheeks and chest bulging; my anger and
groans vanished, leaving only painful eyes! An old-fashioned woman's wig was placed on my head and
attached to the mask to prevent it from falling off. After a careful inspection, they pushed me out of the kitchen and out the door.
Carole told the caretakers, "Give her all-day care so she fully understands that she is a woman."
Then I was loaded onto a van, and the ladies got on too, and soon the van drove off!

After a while, Bob's commercial district came into view. The van pulled up through
the back door and stopped. I was lifted off the vehicle, and although I struggled, the ropes securing me were
tight , and the women just looked at me and laughed.

The caregivers rushed back and forth, as if the daycare center was very busy. When they wheeled me into a room,
I was greatly shocked. I saw three other people inside wearing the same masks and wigs as me, all
strapped similar wheelchairs and dressed similarly. I was pushed over, becoming the fourth in line.

"This is Carol's new lover, Ruth," one of the people who pushed me said with a laugh. "She wants a beautiful
Priscilla, to be pampered here all day long," another added with a laugh. Ruth seemed to be
the head of the group, sitting to one side drinking coffee and reading her women's magazine, while simultaneously directing and supervising everything in the room.

They first used clips on the floor to hold the wheelchair in place, then opened the curtains, letting me look out at the daycare center through
a large one-way mirror. I saw that the outside was very clean and tidy, and the daycare
center was operating smoothly. Women hurriedly brought in their babies and toddlers and then hurried away.
Everything was very orderly.

At this moment, the caregivers untied my arms and wrists, tightly inserting them
into the metal leather cuffs behind the chair and fastening them securely. They made sure I couldn't move and then left the room. Ruth
finished her coffee and said loudly, "Alright, ladies, we're about to get to work. You know
why our daycare center is the best in the area? It's because we have very humane service." She
laughed heartily as she spoke.

She walked to the first person strapped to the magical device and began to unbutton the front of her outfit! Then,
she slid off the hooks and unhooked her bra, revealing a pair of large, swaying breasts! Then she carefully
cleaned her nipples and pulled out a magical device, securing it in place on her chest.
It looked a bit like a large tray, a baby chair, or perhaps more like a small cradle. Two nursery workers
emerged from another room, each carrying a crying, hungry baby. They placed both babies on trays
and adjusted the device so that each baby was suckling at a swollen nipple. The babies' cries quickly
subsided , replaced by contented suckling.

Then the ladies turned their attention to me! I tried to scream, but no sound came out!
I struggled, but could only make a slight rustling of my taffeta dress!

"Hopefully this one won't cause us any trouble," said one of the nursery workers who approached me.

"This is Carol's little darling," Ruth said with a satisfied smile. "She'll be here all day
!"

one of them said. "I guess she wants Priscilla to get her full corrective treatment here."
The women giggled and surrounded me. One of the nursery workers activated the hidden valve on
the tube , and a large amount of air rushed into my mouth. I gave up struggling in discomfort and
nodded frantically in surrender.

The caregivers first carefully inspected all the restraints binding me, and they were
astonished . "Hey, you little CD, how does it feel to be a woman?" Ruth teased me playfully.
"Oh, now we'll see how you play the role of a breastfeeding 'mom'! Ah, it's morning feeding
time , we have to hurry!" I wanted to struggle, but I didn't dare, which only elicited soft giggles from them.
The two caregivers in front of me unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it open. They then unhooked my bra
, removed the cups, and disinfected my nipples. It was then that I realized Carol had put
a nursing bra on me today!

Ruth pulled out the tray device and secured it below my chest. Then she adjusted the wheelchair mechanism, tilting my
upper body ball-like breasts hung naturally, nipples aligned with the cradle. After checking to ensure
I couldn't move, the caregiver left reassuredly, quickly returning with two or more babies!

Ruth gently massaged my breasts, seeing thick milk dripping from my nipples! She carefully
wiped away the milk, excitedly saying, "Great! Little Priscilla is our best 'wet nurse' here."
Then the two hungry babies were placed in the cradle on my chest, adjusted to face my nipples. Before they were even
properly positioned, the two babies bit down on my swollen nipples like wolves, sucking desperately. I tried to
move but couldn't!

Soon, the two helpless "surrogate mothers" also became "wet nurses" like us. Ruth carefully
checked them, smiled with satisfaction, and returned to the side to continue drinking her coffee and reading her magazine.

Before long, the babies were full. The nursery workers rushed over to pick them up, and as they carried them
away , the babies were burping. Meanwhile, Ruth returned and cleaned our nipples one by one.
To my horror, another group of babies came into the room, and I realized another round of breastfeeding was about
to begin! Ruth watched us struggle, her noticeably large nipples bouncing and swaying against our chests,
dripping milk! My areolas and nipples, swollen from suckling, were now a deep pink. I could
feel my breasts slowly filling, feel the milk flowing to my nipples! Now Ruth no longer needed to express milk;
the two babies, as soon as they were placed on the tray, immediately latched on and began to suckle. After this round of breastfeeding, we
were once again forced to satisfy the babies' suckling needs! Carol had turned me into a cow! A milk-producing
machine. I suddenly realized why the caretakers called us "cow maids." I remembered Bob's
efficiency in business; we were providing them with milk at no cost, and they were
milking as efficiently as possible. I learned that three other women were in similar situations, hoping
for comfortable jobs in this dreamlike country, only to become "cow maids"! Carol had a group of wealthy
girlfriends who liked to be in charge, and this was their way of dealing with unruly "maids."

More than an hour later, I was still in the same spot, but the three of them were pushed to
the corner to rest. When I was forced to prepare to feed the two babies again, they all sat in their wheelchairs, looking at
me with pity! My breasts ached and throbbed; my nipples, never before suckled, were now bitten painfully by the babies; my
arms and back were also very sore, but the caretakers placed two or more babies into the cradles on my chest, and
the babies kept suckling frantically. I had no strength left, and I no longer wanted to struggle; my whole body
was convulsing. The caretakers watched me with amusement as I panted, exhausted. My breasts were finally emptied;
the caretakers could no longer massage milk from them. Ruth said, "This little 'milk cow servant'
is out of milk. Get ready, we're taking her back to Carol." Just then, I saw them push in a cart
full of bottled milk, which I guessed was provided by the men and women of Carol's friends. My bra
was fastened , and the caretakers buttoned up my clothes. Soon I was taken back to
Bob and Carol's house. They pushed me into the kitchen, untied my restraints, and pulled me out of the wheelchair.
Carol told me to go back to my room for a nap, but asked me to change into new clothes and prepare a big
dinner when I woke up. When I stumbled back to my room in my high heels, the ladies all laughed. I know I can only
continue to be Bob and Carol's perfect "housewife," and continue using the breast pump to empty my breasts
and relieve the engorgement. I'll also continue my injections, and I think I'll be
providing bottled milk for the daycare for years to come, along with other "housewives." Larolle and Bob know I'm
now content to be a perfect "housewife"! They know I've realized that being a "housewife"
is better than going through the punishment again, becoming a "milk cow maid"!

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/210862.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=210862&aspx=1

Previous Page : Mother's Story 8-10

Next Page : I met her at a friend's party.

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

Milk Maid

comment Open a new window to view comments