Hans and Greta – Who’s a Pretty Boy Then? (1)
A story is based on a fairy tale, which I have translated to our modern life, but it’s still firmly a fantasy.
Hans woke with a start when someone unlocked and entered the stark room. The light was harsh and bright through its high window but the fierce looking woman carried a tray loaded with scrambled eggs, toast and bacon, the delicious smell of which made his stomach rumble loudly.
Barb leered at his erection pressing against the thin blanket with a cruel glint in her eye. “After that I’ll supervise your ablutions.”
Hans realised he was ravenous, despite the slap up meal he and Greta had shared with her the night before. He used the bucket in the corner of the tiny room to relieve himself then sat down to eat, puzzling hard as to what Barb’s agenda might be. He was used to humiliation and corporal punishment at the hands of his previous Dom Theo, but it had all been consensual with safewords; soft and hard limits discussed and agreed ahead of time.
His head was heavy and his thoughts muddled as he poured himself a tall glass of water and began to chew the food. Hans wondered if the food or drink Barb had served them at her restaurant last night was drugged, because although she’d eaten and drunk with them in the deserted inn, and they’d found themselves discussing a mutual love of kink, he didn’t remember entering this cell like room or removing his clothes. Saying that, he couldn’t see his clothes? He checked the floor and the bed, to no avail.
Hans wondered whether Greta was alright? Was she locked in a similar room, or had Barb taken her to bed? He’d seen the way the older woman devoured his slim companion with hungry eyes. Greta, being submissive to the core, had soaked up the attention, batting her lashes, flipping her hair and biting her bottom lip while using her most breathy voice. He’d take a guess that bi-sexual Greta had spent the night lapping at the older woman’s cunt and ass crack before curling up on a blanket beside her bed like a happy puppy.
Hans, however, wasn’t attracted to Barb. After imprisoning him overnight her domineering ways hardly seemed the right fit for him, but he wanted to stay with Greta, who he loved like a sister, so maybe he could adjust. They’d been together for years in the service of their previous Dom Theo, enjoying and experiencing all kinds of kinky fuckery until he’d had to cut them loose to go and care for his sick mother.
Hans’ thoughts were interrupted by the clatter of a key at his door, heralding the return of new Domme Barb. This morning she looked nothing like the welcoming host they’d met last night having completely lost their way when the Sat Nav’s signal vanished. They’d driven around on a fruitless search for a hotel, the car’s fuel needle was nearly touching empty when they discovered the “Sweet Treat Inn”.
“Finished? Good. Follow me, to the wet room.” Barb’s harsh voice broke into his reverie.
Used to not being allowed to wear clothes Hans stood, naked and unashamed, keen to discover the layout of the place. They walked down a corridor lined with identical doors, into a fully tiled shower space, with toilets and a changing room adjacent.
“Prepare yourself. Use the facilities, wash and shave. Everywhere.” Barb’s eyes ran over the sprinkling of hair on his chest. “Use this douche, clean inside and out.” She gestured to a cupboard holding toiletries and bathroom supplies. “Moisturise your skin, I want you smooth as the day you were born.” Studying his legs and feet she said. “You’ll need more than 1 razor, and trim your toenails. I’ll return with what I intend you to wear.”
Under the hot jets of the shower Hans wondered exactly what Barb had in store for him. He’d keept his sack and crack shaved for Theo who’d enjoyed licking and sucking his balls almost as much as deep throating his girthy dick. He was unsure, however, why she wanted his chest shaved or his nails short. Nevertheless he shaved, using copious amounts of soapy lather, changing razors when his hairs clogged the twin blades.
Having dried both hair and body, Hans massaged white lotion into his newly smooth skin, feeling the truth of his nakedness as he did. Aesthetically it was very pleasing, but exposing. This feeling only increased when viewing the items in the changing room: not clothes, but ladies’ lingerie. He rolled the stockings as he’d seen Greta do, unfurling them up his calves and thighs. Now the short toenails made sense, otherwise he would surely have laddered the sheer fabric.
Next item was a corset, which he struggled to fasten around his chest with the closely spaced hooks and eyes at the front, the lacing at the back meant it was loose against his body while four stretchy straps hung down to hold up the stockings. As he wrestled with their button and loop fastening, Barb marched back into the room with a fabric tape measure in hand.
“Let’s tighten this,” she was brisk. Tightening the laces of the corset she pulled mercilessly until it gripped Hans and he began to gain a womanly shape. Next she fastened the straps, securing the stockings at the back.
Hans struggled to bend and pick up the tiny, lacy scrap of a thong she’d put out for him.
“Wait! I need to measure you first.”
Matter-of-factly Barb noted his cock’s length and girth, cupping his testicles to assess them before opening a locked cupboard and returning with a plastic cock cage which she fastened around him and padlocked closed. Hans watched in numb astonishment as she added the keys to a silver chain around her neck.
Barb squirted lube on a metal butt plug and, without ceremony, pressed it against Hans’ crack, until with a stretch and a pop sensation it lodged inside him. The chill and weight made its presence felt instantly. It was not an unfamiliar feeling, and his cock tried to throb in happy acceptance of the plug, but the cage held him strictly, making no allowance for any stiffening or swelling. It forced him to think libido dampening thoughts in order to halt the discomfort.
“Very nice,” Barb leered at him, before tucking breast fillers into the cups of the corset.
She took the flimsy thong from his grasp and held it open for Hans to step into, then drew it up his thighs, tucking his caged cock behind the filmy fabric. After helping Hans steady himself to step into four-inch heeled shoes, she buckled him into a collar which had chains from its central D-ring extending out to wrist cuffs. His ankles too were cuffed, with a short chain between them which would limit his ability to step.
“Sit down,” she commanded, pressing him down onto the bench seating, then used a lipstick with a liner brush to paint his lips – the final act of his feminisation. She turned Hans to face the mirror.
Although he could only see himself down to the waist, he felt strange and slightly humiliated knowing the caricature of a woman who returned his look of anguish from his reflection was him. The boning and tightness of the bodice made him stand unnaturally straight with his shoulders back. He couldn’t easily look past the fake breasts to see his caged cock but it generated an uncomfortable tightness where it was fastened around his manhood and a heaviness from the cage and the padlock.
Hans was very aware of the stockings on his legs, even with almost no movement he felt the sheen of fabric caressing his legs in a pleasant way. This would have caused a throbbing engorgement in his dick if it hadn’t been tightly held and weighed down by the chastity device. Instead the pain he felt at arousal had him groaning and wilting.
To be continued …
Submitted as part of the #MasturbationMonday meme. Visit for more smutty goodness! Picture sourced from Pixabay.