[Ladyboy][Milk Maid]

[Transgender][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 outfit decorated with lace 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 help me choose all sorts of wigs that I needed 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 through
an advertisement in the newspaper three years ago. 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 terrible, my makeup was amateurish, and 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 found myself in the situation. 　　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 in high heels as 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 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 waist 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 endure it. But more changes occurred. 　　My hips began to seem fuller, and my breasts, which had initially become soft, slowly grew larger. My areolas and nipples not only became larger but also turned a distinct deep red. I told Carol about this.

She giggled, saying this was just the beginning, I was still developing into a woman! She said she'd been giving me high doses of estrogen, adding it to my food and drinks every day to ensure every cell in my body had enough estrogen for a long time! She said I was originally a very feminine man, enjoying 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 "blowjob," 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 like a woman's.
I thought this was going too far and decided to leave, telling Carol I didn't want to continue like this.
I started becoming a bit domineering, less at work, and for several days in a row, my dinners were sloppy.
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 medicine and quickly lifted my skirt, pulling down my embroidered shorts.
After rubbing alcohol on my buttocks, I felt a stinging sensation, and I felt her recklessly pushing the medicine down!
She was now injecting me with the maximum dose of estrogen.
"I don't want to waste time with you, stop your frivolous behavior now, dear Priscilla,
" Carol said.
She had also given me a progesterone-type drug to completely block my testosterone production.
Just a week later, I was taken to a clinic.
This time, Carol had a surgeon remove my testicles, and now all I had in my lower body was a loose penis and an empty sac!
In the following months, without the effects of the testicles, and with the continued injections of high doses of estrogen, my breasts really swelled! I went from a 34"B to a 34"C and then continued to grow to a 36"D! When Carol had turned my breasts into a 36"DD, I was forced to undergo sex reassignment surgery.
My lower body was no longer a limp penis and an empty sac; I now had 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 only wanted to enjoy life's pleasures and was unwilling to endure the sexual responsibilities of a wife day after day.
So, this is how things are now.
Every night, I would have sex with Bob on satin sheets in my pajamas, then get up in the morning, dress, put on makeup, and do housework like a perfect old-fashioned housewife.
Cooking, cleaning, and providing sexual services to Bob were my main tasks.
Sometimes Carol would also call on 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 intake, my breasts continued to grow! Carol kept buying me new clothes, and my bra size kept increasing.
The daily hormones and corsets sculpted my wasp waist, my womanly hips, and my large, swaying breasts! One evening, with a beaming smile, she measured me comfortably at 44 "dd"!
Wow, what a great figure!
She murmured, "Your breasts are bigger than mine now!" Based on my body's development, Carol constantly bought and changed clothes to fit my shape, and her body-shaping efforts continued.
While I did my daily chores in high heels, Bob loved to sit beside me, watching my full breasts rise and fall, watching my hips sway.
Just when 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 watched in horror as milk burst from my nipples, so white, so plentiful, spraying everywhere! This delighted Carol.
She gave me a breast pump and taught me how to express milk myself.
When my breasts felt engorged, I used it to empty them and feel better.
Carol required me to pump three to four times a day and to bottle the milk and put it all in the refrigerator.
I wondered why she did this; did she not want to waste the milk and take it to her daycare? I loathed everything she did to me.
"Feeling all womanly now?" she chuckled as she put me to bed, adding besides saying goodnight, "The body shaping program isn't over yet; there are still some good things 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 today.
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, and sprinkled on some perfume before leaving 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 hooks at the back, adjusting the bra 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 slip that hugged my thighs, and then a knee-length chiffon slip.
Then she helped me put on a dress popular in the 1950s, buttoned at the front and cinched with a small belt around my tiny waist.
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 wigs every day, 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 people who looked like caregivers pushed a strange wheelchair into the house.
Although I vehemently opposed getting into this strange wheelchair, the women worked together to force me in.
I had no idea what was happening! They lifted my skirt and tied my knees and ankles together 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 armrests, rendering me immobile.
The women 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 tied the strap at the back of my head! I couldn't speak, and even swallowing was difficult.
The women pulled open the rubber mask above my head! It was like a pocket. I tried to shake my head, but it was no use. Faced with my predicament, Carol chuckled.
A woman pressed this smiling mask against my face, and a tube was pushed into my nose. The woman behind me pulled back the rubber mask, tightly encasing my head—it was very uncomfortable.
I heard Carol say, "Darling, from now on you will abandon your pointless resistance and learn to be a pure maid and 'housewife.'
" Through my eye sockets, I saw a woman insert a tube through the lip hole of the 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, swelling my cheeks and chest; 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.
Carol told the caregivers, "Give her all-day care, make sure she fully understands that she's a woman.
" Then I was lifted into the van, and the ladies got in too. Soon the van drove off!
A little while later, Bob's commercial district came into view.
The van pulled up through the back door of the Carl Zydau center and stopped.
They lifted me out, and although I struggled, the ropes holding me in were tight, and the ladies just looked at me and laughed.
The caregivers rushed around, as if the daycare center was very busy.
When they pushed me into a room, I was shocked. I saw three other people wearing the same masks and wigs as me, all strapped to similar wheelchairs, and dressed similarly.
I was pushed over, 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 place, sitting to one side sipping coffee and reading her women's magazine while simultaneously directing and supervising everything in the room.
First, they used clips on the floor to secure the wheelchair, rendering it immobile.
Then they opened the curtains, allowing me to see the daycare center through a large one-way mirror.
I saw that it was very clean and tidy outside, the daycare center operating smoothly, women hurriedly bringing in their babies and toddlers and then hurrying away.
Everything was very orderly.
At this point, the caregivers untied my arms and wrists, tightly inserting them into the metal leather cuffs behind the chair and fastening them securely.
Making sure I couldn't move, they 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 such humane service!
" She laughed heartily.
She walked to the first person strapped to the strange device and began unbuttoning the front of her outfit! Then, she slid off her bra, revealing a pair of large, swaying breasts! She then carefully cleaned her nipples and pulled out a strange device, securing it in place on her chest.
It looked a bit like a large tray, a baby chair, or perhaps a small cradle.
Two nursery workers emerged from another room, each carrying a crying, hungry baby.
They placed both babies on the tray 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 only managed a slight rustling of my taffeta dress!
"Hopefully this person 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 whole corrective treatment here.
” The women giggled and surrounded me.
One of the caregivers activated the hidden valve on the tube in the rubber gag inserted into my mouth, 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 checked all the devices binding me, and they were amazed by my full breasts.
“Hey, you little CD, how does it feel to be a woman?” Ruth teased me gleefully. “Oh, now we’ll see how you play the role of a breastfeeding ‘mother’! Ah, it’s morning feeding time now, we have to hurry!” I wanted to struggle, but I didn’t dare, which only made them giggle softly.
The two caregivers in front of me finished unbuttoning my shirt and pulled it open.
They then unhooked the bra in front, removed the two cups, and disinfected my nipples.
It was then I realized Carol had put a nursing bra on me today!
Ruth pulled out the tray mechanism, secured it below my chest, and then adjusted the wheelchair mechanism, tilting my upper body slightly forward so my ball-like breasts hung naturally, nipples aligned with the cradle.
After checking to ensure I couldn't move, the caregiver left reassured, 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 those two helpless "surrogate mothers" also became "wet nurses" just like us.
Ruth carefully checked everything, smiled with satisfaction, and went back to her coffee and magazine.
Before long, the babies were full.
The nursery workers rushed over to pick them up, and as they were carried away, the babies were burping.
Meanwhile, Ruth returned, cleaning our nipples one by one.
To my horror, the nursery workers brought another group of babies 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 were now a deep pink from the suckling.
I could feel my breasts slowly filling, feeling the milk flowing towards my nipples! Now Ruth no longer needed to express milk; the two babies, as soon as they were placed on the tray, immediately latched onto the nipples 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 being very efficient in business; we were providing them with milk at no cost, and they were milking me as efficiently as possible.
I learned that three other women had similar experiences; they had hoped to find comfortable jobs in this dreamlike country, but ended up as "cow maids"! Carol had a group of wealthy girlfriends who liked to be in charge, and this was one way they dealt 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 in front of me 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 were sore and throbbing; my nipples, which had never been suckled before, were now painfully bitten by the babies; my arms and back were also very sore, but the caretakers put 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 again, 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"!
The End

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