"Meet Your New Maid, Mother."
"Your husband will join us in a minute, Miss Hart. His treatment has involved heavy sedation for several days: he is likely to show mood swings as he adjusts to normal consciousness again... quite apart from the shock to his psyche with his physical alterations. He may show resistance to your wishes."
Cheryl Hart pursed her young lips and lifted her chin. "Let him try," she said. "It won't make any difference: he will do as he is told." Ramona Hart, her mother, sat beside her, perfectly erect, her gloves crossed over her purse on her knee, and snorted.
"Be absolutely firm with him, my dear. Don't give him an inch, or you will regret it. Remember, he is to be locked in place at all times."
"I am perfectly aware of how I am going to look after my own husband, mother. I know he is going to be yours to dress and feed, but he is married to me, so I will be in charge of the pathetic worm."
Cheryl and Ramona Hart were collecting husband Malcolm from Euphoric Gendering, the transformational clinic. For months before being admitted, the unfortunate Malcolm had been put in his place daily by both women, as if he was a very young, naughty boy. He had also been lectured by Ramona, about how he was to meet her very high standards of house-maiding, and since she was a corsetiere by profession and convinced of the effectiveness of corseting for maids, he was to meet her most important stipulation: no person was to enter her house unless their mammaries filled at least a C-cup. Hence Malcolm's week-long stay: hormonal treatment and breast conditioning. The corsets and bras were waiting for him at home. The intercom announced that Malcolm Hart was ready to go home and was being brought to reception.
Matron brought her visitors to the foyer, where they arrived at the same time as the patient. "Oh my goodness," cried Ramona, "he looks brilliant in that dress. You'd say it was a woman. Just look at his breasts, darling."
His breasts were shown to advantage since his wrists were handcuffed behind him. The women all chuckled, while the husband tried to turn his back, showing how his little black dress fastened down the back with five large black buttons to the waist, where its skirt flared to his knees in black taffeta covered with three tiers of chiffon. Dark stockings and black court shoes completed his outfit.
"Let's take a look at you," declared Matron, turning him to face his mistresses while she undid the back of his dress. It pushed off his shoulders and she brought the sides down to his waist.
"Ohhhhh, how glorious!" cried Ramona, her hands to her cheeks. "A black bra, with lace cups. It must be at least a C."
"It is a C cup," said Matron, slipping the bra straps from his shoulders and pushing a thumb into each cup to un-bra him and reveal what had happened to his breasts. The husband broke into tears.
"Oh Cheryl..." he wailed, "I'm so sorry. I... I apologise deeply for what they've done to me... I couldn't help it: I was fastened down all the time, with intraveinous feeds and a special diet. Please forgive me, darling. I know this is awful..."
"Oh shut up. Why ask for forgiveness when you are now just the way I want you. It's a question of being able to continue your treatment when I get you home."
"Simply continue his medication," said Matron, fixing his bra again and pulling up his dress. "It's all in the literature, and you can visit us at any time online, including face-to-face skyping, so that our trained staff can see the patient's breasts while you talk about them." She buttoned up his dress and fitted a chain with two metal grip-handles to his cuffs so that his mistresses could manouevre him easily. "He will naturally progress to a D-cup , and before you know it, he'll be DD, ending at whatever stage you want. His growth will probably stop before he's 40. How old is he now?"
"Well he has time to go all the way. Stand aside, Dolly Parton."
They burst out laughing, while Malcolm Hart burst into tears. "Please don't listen to them, Cheryl. Have mercy. Don't do this to me."
Ramona opened her purse and produced the power-aide she had been waiting to use to good effect: a ball gag on straps. Matron showed her how to force it into the mouth of the most reluctant of maids, and they could stand and watch his tears coursing down his cheeks onto his dress as they laughed and ridiculed him.
Back home, Ramona held him on her knee to give him his hormone drink, for all the world like feeding a baby. He wore a full corselet in silver satin which she had made for him herself, its hemline below the knees and its front sewn with mock buttons so that it resembled a dress.
"Your corsets will all have your former sex visible and available to us," she announced, seeing how erect it was through the availability slot. "I want to see your penis at all times, and more often than not, I'll want to play with it. My male maid..."
"Your ex-male maid, mother," corrected Cheryl, clasping her husband's member in her hand and giving it a dozen playful tugs.
"Exactly. My ex-male maid will be on show to all our friends whenever they arrive. Which is why you need some pretty fast training at serving and generally being an amusing entertainment. And to suit your position as family maid, you little girl, you will henceforth be called Mandy."
The new maid choked across her knee and in the end the bottle had to be withdrawn so that his mistresses could roll him over and wind him with the palms of their hands across the back and buttocks of his corselet. Then he was able to continue drinking down his hormones.
They would both turn out to be extremely demanding mistresses for the tearful Maid Mandy.