The Transformation Story Archive The Other Sex

The Stepford Wives

by Sarah Barndt

I was once a normal, heterosexual male. That is, I was until I happened upon the town of Stepford. I was spending a few weeks there, installing some equipment at Stepford Pharmeceutical Labs, for the company I worked for. I had recently broken up with my fiancee and was glad to be back on the road as a working engineer. I enjoyed it, but Stepford was odd. All of the men wanted to ask me about my sex life when I visited "the club." All of the women were beautiful and intelligent, yet they were very old-fashioned in the way they behaved. They were totally subservient and attentive to their men. They alone cooked, cleaned, took care of the kids, etc. They also looked and dressed like models, and apparently, were sensational lovers. All of the men belonged to the MEN'S CLUB, and all of the women belonged to the LADY'S CULTURAL SOCIETY, a building on the far side of the MEN'S CLUB grounds. What was odd? It was too perfect. My curiosity was piqued. I decided to investigate the building of the MEN'S CLUB. THAT was first my mistake.

I slipped in after hours, using my pass key. Since the machines I was installing were automated, I had access to the central computer network. I found lots of information. All of it was astounding, but chilled me to the bone. It turned out that all of the women in Stepford had once been men! The real men of Stepford captured young men with the right physical characteristics and sexual experience, then transformed them somehow into females. As former males, they had an intimate knowledge of what pleased a man and how to satisfy his fantasies and desires. The sudden shock of losing of their penises caused them to become submissive and docile. You ended up with every man's fantasy; a lady in the parlor, a chef in the kitchen, and a whore in the bedroom. I fell back in my chair, too stunned to move at this shocking revelation, when a cloth covered my mouth and nose. Chlorophorm! I struggled only briefly before losing consciousness. When I awoke, I was strapped to a lab table - naked. I felt OK, though there was a bandage on my abdomen. I turned at the sound of the door opening. A doctor and two nurses came in. My voice was cracking as I told them they couldn't turn me into a woman. The doctor only smiled and said that he already had.

I thought he was bluffing, but as he explained the process I knew he wasn't lying. The bandage was from where they had implanted a female zygote into my abdominal cavity. It would attach to my seminal vescicle, the part of a male analogous to a uterus. There it would alter my RNA to that of the woman who provided the egg. Over a short period of time, it would turn my male sex organs into a uterus, ovaries and Fallopian tubes, while my new RNA would alter every cell in my body until I had become - a female, a PREGNANT female. I didn't feel right and realized it was already too late for me to escape this fate. I asked how long I had left. He said I was already past the first stage. To illustrate, he tugged on my chest hair. It came out easily. They wheeled a mirror over. I could see now that I was slimmer and less muscular than before, with almost no body hair and I had never seen my dick so pink, or limp, before. Suddenly I screamed. My guts were in agony! It felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing me from the inside. As I shrieked I could hear my voice getting higher. I writhed and moaned for several minutes. Mercifully it passed as quickly as it came. I looked in the mirror and began to cry. My dick was gone, replaced by a - a cunt. I had even grown tits! On my once flat chest were two small cones of flesh. I was still sobbing as they put my feet in stirrups and gave me my first vaginal exam. I wanted to die as I felt my clitoris respond to his probe by making my nipples hard. My new vagina made me feel vulnerable, and I could see I now had a feminine triangle sprouting between softer, fleshier thighs. While the doctor was probing my new plumbing the nurse tried to comfort me. "Relax, sweety," she whispered. "You'll get used to it. We all did." I thanked her in my new alto voice. They helped me up. I felt so - different. It wasn't just my dick being gone, either. In spite of the fact that I had lost over 50 pounds, I felt plumper, and somewhat bottom-heavy. Yet, I was thinner, less muscular, and shorter than ever. I must have lost 6 inches in height, and my feet were almost tiny. I clenched my arms. My strength was gone. I now had the scrawny biceps and shoulders of a woman. The face was mine, but different. A woman's face; softer, rounder with added fullness in the cheeks and lips. My hair was longer. I was pretty. Just as I was regaining some composure the doctor said, "Take MISS Evans to the Ladies Club and get her a room. Give her the usual training. Her wedding is in a month." As I heard those words, I began to vomit. They cleaned me up, then gave me a robe, pink, to wear as we walked to the clubhouse. I sobbed uncontrollably. They reminded me that I was not only female now, but pregnant. "When you're knocked-up, there's nothing like having a man take care of you," they said knowingly. "You may not think so now, but in a few months, when you're big as a house, you'll appreciate the attention. Besides, the first one is always the hardest." First? As in "first of several', or - or m-many. Oh, dear. I was getting queazy again. They assured me that I would actually be happy about all this someday - while I was gagging. I chuckled sardonicly. Isn't that what they always say after something terrible has happened. But I had to be logical. My dick was gone - forever. I had to face that. I was a woman, at least physically, and in 9 months I was going to be somebody's mother. All of that was unchangable. The best thing I could do for my own sake was to not fight it anymore. I decided to give in; to shave my legs and put on a dress. I didn't have to like it, but I was determined to survive this. They could make me look like a woman, but they could never make me think like a woman. Or so I thought.

At the club, I was taken to the beauty salon. There, I was given a perm, manicure, pedicure, facial and make-up instruction. They had me shave my own legs and underarms - and bikini line. I watched all this detached from myself, as if I were an observer as, little by little, I was turned into an attractive young woman, Laura, my new name. Lastly, they gave me some diamond earrings, pierced, a gift from Mark Jennings, my fiancee. I yelped as the studs entered my lobes, though it really didn't hurt. Next, it was time to dress me.

The room looked like a "Victoria's Secret' catalogue. They selected a white lace bikini panty for me. It felt so odd as it slid up my now smooth legs and over my - empty - crotch. The tape went around my sunken chest before I knew what was happening. 32AA. My hands were trembling as I slid the bra up my arms. I was putting this on because I needed one. And would need one for the rest of my life. sss I sucked in a breath as my girlish boobs settled into the cups and the clasp was fastened. uuu It felt like a harness. I didn't like it at all. I heard the nurses gossipping. "Remember when we were that size?" one said, enviously. "Yes, I do. Let her enjoy it while she can. By the time she's through nursing her first kid, she'll be as big as the rest of us." I looked at them carefully. Oh, my! I hadn't really noticed before, I was so worried about my mutation, but they were quite full-figured! I looked down at my chest. I could feel the slight sensation of weight that was still so unfamiliar. I tried to imagine what they would look like in a few months when I was - like them, a buxom housewife. I couldn't.

I spent the next weeks learning how to be a lady. Classes were run by various women of the town. As I looked at these thoroughly feminine creatures, all of them mothers, some several times, I couldn't believe that they had once been men - like me. Or rather, like I used to be. Each night as I put on my lacy, babydoll nighty I saw that I had become more like them. I hardly knew myself anymore, I was becoming so emotional. I could laugh or cry at the drop of a hat. I wore high heels all the time. My ankles hurt. I spent hours with books on my head, learning how to walk gracefully. They taught me how to cook, knit and sew. I studied fashion magazines like they were text books. The "hygeine' class was disgusting, but I did find it useful. I had an exercise class every day where we would do the "bust cheer'; "we must! we must! we must increase our bust!' You know the one. It must work. My bumps were like misquito bites compared to the melons on these women. In my snug leotard the full extent of my transformation was apparent; slim waist, rounded butt and totally smooth crotch, but I was getting morning sickness. Some of the women in the class were pregnant, too, but I was the only "newgirl'. I watched their swollen bellies with fascination as we did our pelvic thrusts. "Do it, ladies," the instructer said. "It will keep you tight as a virgin." The other women laughed at that. I felt ill, as all the implications of that statement sunk in. The hardest part for me was seeing nude women. I didn't, or couldn't, get aroused and I was finding it easier and easier to undress in front them. Before I knew it, I just didn't care anymore. Now, I started to compare their figures to mine. Which, by the way, was improving daily.

My new hormones were causing me to "fill out'. My breasts grew fuller and rounder, as did my hips and buttocks. My legs added flesh and were becoming quite shapely. My skin felt like a baby's behind. I ran my slender hands over my widening hips, then down my still flat stomach. The fine growth on my pussy had thickened. In two weeks, I was up to a 34A bra. My breasts steadily increasing weight was making me more aware of them. I could now feel them whenever I moved. It was a bit disquieting. In spite of my small size, I was feeling busty, though the most interesting change was the way my nipples were growing. The little pink nipples of two weeks ago were now doubled in size and scarlett red. I placed the palms of my hands on them and made slow circles. oooo That felt nice. I could feel my pussy tingling. I put one hand between my legs. oooo OOOO UUUUUU. I had my first orgasm - as a woman.

I'll never forget my first "Wednesday Afternoon Tea.' It is a ritual at the Ladies Club. Each Wednesday, from 1pm to 4pm, the doors are locked and the curtains are drawn. Tables of food and drink are arranged throughout the building. All of the ladies of Stepford gather to mingle and gossip - stark naked except for make-up and high heels. I wandered around the rooms myself, naked as well, surprised, and definitely aroused, by all the sex that was going on. My slim figure made me easy to identify as the "newgirl', as the other women's figures ranged from voluptuous to matronly. Pregnant women were also involved and they gathered around me, telling me how "great it will be', "fullfilling' or my favorite, "It's true. We really are happiest this way.' This was from a 32 year old mother of 4, who used to play quarterback for Purdue, (her husband loved football and wanted a wife who could share his enthusiasm) and now appearred to be in her 4th month. She was so round and - RIPE - it was getting me hot. She, Kate, noticed and took me aside. I had never kissed a pregnant woman before, and certainly not AS a woman. Our bare breasts rubbing together was new and exciting. I could feel myself getting wet as I rubbed her big belly and fondled her bloated tits. "oops. I'm leaking," she said as a drop of milk dribbled from her breast. " darn. I'm starting sooner with each kid." she said to herself. I took her swollen teat into my mouth. "Careful, Laura. I love what you're doing, but you're pregnant, too. This could start YOUR milk if you take too much." I paused momentarily, but continued to suckle. It tasted sooo good.

By the end of the month I had a woman's figure; 36B-24-38. In a few days I would become Mrs. Mark Jennings. I found myself staring at my engagement ring for hours. I was really a woman and soon I would be a wife. The idea of spreading my legs for a man still made my skin crawl, but everyone said it was wonderful. Besides, I wasn't equipped to fuck anymore. All I could do was lay back and be fucked. They were giving me a bridal shower during "afternoon tea'. Kate was their, of course, as we had become close this past month. I adored sucking her fat, leaking tits, even though it seemed to be putting a few pounds on me. When I was shopping the other day, I found I had gone up a dress size, from a 6 to an 8. Besides the sex, we really got along well, so I asked her to be matron-of-honor. In fact, my future husband had bought the house next to her's. We were going to be neighbors! It was somewhat Felliniesque, 30 or so naked women, drinking too much wine, and making all of the usual pre-honeymoon jokes. I had thought only men did that. I was learning a lot.

The wedding was a simple affair on the club grounds. I had met Mark weeks before, when I was still a man. I hadn't noticed how good looking he was - then. Now, I was seeing him as my life-mate, the father of my child (children?) and the man who was going to de-flower me. I was frightened and excited about what was to come. That night, for the first time, I felt the weight of a man upon me. I was so scared! I parted my legs, so he could mount me. His hard, thick cock was pressed against my wet, willing cunt. He moved his hips forward. SSSSSSSS My hymen tore! I was no longer a virgin. UUU He was FILLING me. Deeper and deeper it slid in. AAAAA He was splitting me like a melon! I was swooning; drifting in and out of reality as my brain was flooded by new - by new - ooooo Wonderful sensations! I could feel his cock taming. Each thrust fucking the last of my maleness, my independance, away. I was turning into a helpless, docile female and loving every minute of it. "OOO I love it. uuuu I love you. SSSS I want to be your wife," I breathed out as he was pumping into me. I wrapped my legs around him, kissed his neck and told how good he felt. He liked that. I knew he would. We erupted together. OOO The girls were right. It was so much BETTER now. That night, I must have caught a bad case of hot pants because after a few days of this - well - I couldn't stop spreading my legs!

My life changed so much. I would arise early so I could shower and pamper myself. I'd always wear a dress and high heels (and my personal touch, June Cleaver pearls) no matter what I was planning that day. I'ld cook my man a hearty breakfast then do the houswork. I actually enjoyed cooking and cleaning! The simplicity of this life was a welcome change for me after the "cut throat' corporate life. I would shop or go out to lunch with Kate, or one of the other women. We would gossip like hens at the hair dressers. As the months passed I progressed through a series of hair styles as my locks grew longer and longer. Mark wanted me to let my hair grow out completely. I was looking forward to becoming a modern Lady Godiva for him. I joined a community service club. I really worked at being a good wife and a credit to my man. Nothing made me prouder than to be called MRS. Jennings. We would go to dinner at the club and dance later. I had some trouble at first because I wouldn't follow his lead, but quickly adapted. I enjoyed walking down the street in a smart outfit and feeling men's eyes roving all over me, especially my legs, which were very shapely. Like the other women of Stepford, I would wear a hat and gloves. Regular visits to my gynecologist were, of course, necessary. I could tell I was becoming more of a female because the stirrups no longer bothered me, but the scale did. Each week I winced as the nurse recorded my expanding figure. I went to "the club' daily, for my exercise classes, as well as LaMaze and LeLeche Society meetings. Naturally, I NEVER missed "afternoon tea', but I would always meet Mark at the door, when he came home from the office, in sexy lingerie, and we would make love all over the house. Mark would bring flowers or candy. Once he brought me a bracelet. I had never been interested in flowers or other stuff like that, but now it made me feel so - so special when he brought me presents. I ALWAYS wept happily. In only a few weeks, his kind attentions, and his cock, had turned me into a contented housewife. Then, the "titty fairy' came.

I had been feeling some tightness around my waist lately. In fact, I occassionaly had to undo a button after eating. I would examine my figure after my morning shower. My waist was definitely thickening. I found I tired easily, so I napped more. Then one morning I awoke to find my body changed. My breasts had grown considerably. I found out later, a whole cup size to 38C. My nipples had turned brown and small bumps ringed my areolae. I dark line ran from my pubis to my navel, and when I turned sideways, a noticable bulge was visible. I hefted my heavier (and slightly sagging) boobs. I ran my slim hands over my new roundness. I LOOKED pregnant! I had a belly! I immediately got into maternity clothes, though they hid my new bulges. I was so proud. That afternoon, Kate and I were sunning by the pool. I had decided to wear a two piece suit to show off my new belly. She rubbed my roundness then asked, "So tell me. How do you like having big tits." I looked down. My boobs had spilled out of the cups! We both giggled.

My pregnancy progressed smoothly and I began to fill out my maternity dresses. My belly pushed out farther and farther as did my buttocks and hips. I got a few stretch marks but I didn't care. They were badges of honor to me; a symbol of my fruitfulness, and impending motherhood, and I loved the way Mark would rub soothing lotions on my belly.When I first felt the baby kick, I cried for joy. Kate and I continued our sex play, even though both of our bellies were getting so big that some positions were now uncomfortable. My suckling continued as well. It seemed to noursih me, ripening my figure into a true female form. Mark loved my now large butt and pendulous breasts. He called me "his little cow'. I liked that. However, as Kate had warned, nursing effected me. I awoke on night because my boobs were throbbing. I staggered to the bathroom. As the light came on I gasped. My 40D breasts had grown some more. They looked - fat, and bloated. And .... a wet strain was radiating from each engorged nipple. I pulled down the bodice of my nighty. Oh! I was only in my 6th month, but I was already lactating! Hands shaking, I removed my nighty and applied the breast pump. SSSSS It hurt as my milk began to flow, but soon, it felt kind of nice. In fact, I got wet. Just as I was finishing, I noticed Mark's reflection in the mirror. "Well," he said appreciatively as his hands hefted my boobs, making them and most of my upper body jiggle, "You're really my little cow, now. Come to bed, Elsie. You need to be serviced." I followed willingly. With my hands bracing my back, I waddled back to bed. He was right. I was a cow; a plump, contented cow. And he was my bull. My fattened bosom swayed gently as I got on my hands and knees and placed a pillow under my belly. I sighed lustily as his hard prick slid into me. OOO I wanted it so bad. His hands roamed all over my ripe curves as he fucked me, my ass and thighs jiggling as my boobs slapped together. "You like being knocked up, don't you," he grunted between thrusts. I panted that all I wanted anymore was to be his wife and have his kids. "That's good. Because I intend to keep you this way for a while." My cunt gripped him like a fist as I orgasmed and two wet stains marked the sheets under my tits.

Mark pampered me even more during my last trimester. As the ladies predicted, I was now as big as a house and I did appreciate his sweet attention. I often cradled my belly as I waddled around the house. My 42DD nursing bra gave welcome support to my sore boobs. I had to drain myself 2 or 3 times a day. Fortunately, I had Mark and Kate to assist. At exercise class, I had to do a more limited work out. In my leotard it was obvious that the slim bride of 8 months ago had become a pear-shaped, bosomy matron, though I was happy that my hair was finally long enough to do something interesting with. Kate was in the class, too. She had delivered almost 3 months ago and nearly had her figure back already. I hoped I would be as lucky. Our love making was still nice, though I was too big to do much more than lay back and let her lick my pussy or suck my tits.

I hadn't slept well in several days, my belly was just too large for me to find a comfortable position. I was staring at the ceiling when I felt - it. It was just a slight twinge that seemed to come from inside me. Twenty minutes later, I felt it again, then 20 minutes after that! It was happening! I was going into labor! A few hours later I was in the delivery room, my feet in stirrups, my fat breasts splayed out and pressing against my fleshy upper arm. My hair was soaked in sweat, my face grimaced in pain. It felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing me from the inside. AAAAAAA I bore down. I could feel my - baby being pushed out! It wouldn't be too much longer. The contraction passed and I rested up for the next one. Mark was there, holding my hand. I loved him so much. In Stepford, all first deliveries were by natural method, no drugs. I could understand why now. Labor was a fire that was burning away my old memories and refining me into a pure WOMAN! One last push UUU UUUUUUUU She was out! I had a daughter! Tears of joy mixed with the sweat as she was bathed, swaddled then given to me to hold. I looked adoringly at my husband. "Do you like her?" I asked plaintively. "Of course," He replied. "I love her nearly as much as I love her mother." I felt - complete.

The first time Dierdre took my breast I was so happy and excited! I was nourishing my baby from my own body. Since I was nursing, I had to do all the feedings, of course. It was tiring, but I had never been happier. In a few weeks, I was back at my exercise class trying to get my belly down to a more normal size. Hours on the lifecycle and hundreds of sit ups were starting to get positive results, but pregnancy changes a woman. I would never be slim and girlish again, and I didn't mind at all.

Tonight is our first wedding anniversary and the second time I have left Deirdre alone. Mark has been teasing about how many times I have called Kate already. I can't help it. I'm a mother. "You look great, honey,"Mark complimented. "you look like you've lost all the baby weight." I felt so proud. I had lost all but 6 pounds, and frankly, it felt like all of those last 6 were in my tits, but I was still nursing. My stomach was firm again, though it had a slight roundness now that I would keep for the rest of my life, and my waist was a bit thicker than before. But I was a shapely size 10 and I was getting "those looks' from men again. I liked that. We were having a night of dinner and dancing in the "CITY ROOM" at the men's club. It was the only room in the place where women were allowed. I saw men, men who looked a lot like I used to look only one year ago, going past the oaken doors into the "members only' rooms. Occassionally I was tired of cooking and cleaning and taking care of the baby, and I envied them their freedom, but then I would think about how it felt when Deirdre suckled, and I would forget my envy and look forward to having another baby. Mark and I were "trying', as married people say. Tonight as I was in the ladies room, changing my tampon, (yes, I menstruated now) I became curious as to what went on behind those doors, and thought about sneeking a peek. As I looked past my 44DD milk swollen, bosom, at my hands inserting a tampon, I giggled and thought to myself "No way! I'm not going through that again!"

End: Part 1 ? (like it?)

The Stepford Wives copyright 1996 by Sarah Barndt.

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