I had only a few hours before my wife would come back. I undressed quickly and got one of her bra's. Then I opened the package that I received the day before and took out the two silicone breast forms that I had purchased online.

The weight was perfect. The shape wonderful. And the feeling on my hairless chest felt warm and amazing. I was just looking through my wife's dress collection, when I heard the garage door open again. She must have forgotten something...

One look and I saw her purse still in our bedroom. I only had seconds before she'd be upstairs to collect it. Removing the bra took maybe two seconds. Just had to hide the breast forms. But somehow they didn't come off with the bra. They were still stuck to my chest. And they wouldn't move. That's when my wife entered the room.

So after she was first stunned, then angry, then furious, and eventually calm again, she laid out my choices. Two to be exact. The first one was divorce. And she had pictures of my chest area that would convince any judge to give her everything.

The second option was for me to let her do anything to my body that she deemed necessary to hide my problem.

Obviously I chose the second option. But her interpretation of our deal was different from mine. But I went with it. And soon I was completely hairless, not even a hair on my head. Then she added a wig which would not come off again, without the right dissolving solution. Likewise she added a vaginal prosthetic, which locked up my dick in a very tiny spot, with no room to grow. A corset shaped my waistline and I had long red nails on my fingers and toes, matching the permanent color of my lips and the rest of the makeup that was tattooed on my face.

She took it much farther than I had ever considered. Hormones made my skin soft and a strict diet shaped my body more and more feminine. My name was Chantal now, a woman, illegally in the country. I was to wear a latex French maid uniform, which soon was permanently stuck to me as well, as was my latex stockings and spiked heels.

I was to call her Madame and speak French only. I was sent to a special school where they trained French maids. I knew I was being brainwashed but there was nothing I could do about it. Soon I had memories of growing up as a girl in France with only one desire, to serve a Mistress in the US. Through incredible pain and rare rewards I lost my ability to understand English. I thought and dreamed in French, knew how to cook and clean and how to please both men and women.

When I "graduated" my Mistress picked me up and we returned home. There I met her new boyfriend, whom I had to call Master in my strong accent. All domestic duties were mine, often interrupted by one or both of them performing sexual acts on me, while I was cleaning or cooking.

My training made sure it was enjoyable for them, and it allowed me to enjoy it as well. My greatest pleasure however was serving them at night in bed. I would eat her out, or blow him. Or take them in my rear, either his real thing or her strap-on. Afterwards I'd clean them both, before I'd finally settle in the servants quarters, where I could finally play with my own breasts, real ones now. I couldn't wait to get my own pussy as well, and become a true maid.