”“Da fuq, Lace? If you didn’t want to hear it, why’d you ask?”“You know what, Arty, you got me there.”Artemis stared at her for a beat. “Seriously, when did you become uberbitch?”Lacey sighed, “You know,” she thought about saying something or spitting back something harsh, but the was no rapier in her mental sheath. “I just—nothing, I gotta go.”“Yeah, okay, you should do that.”Lacey closed the door, and gritted her teeth, her undirected anger was getting her nowhere at home, but it seemed to clear her head a little. Eventually she made her way back to the shop for a shift, feeling safe and at ease. Here she was definitely serving a purpose, and getting paid pretty well—at least for a job like this. Dorsey was pretty hands on with the customers, giving her time to tidy up where she could. Her mind began to wander as she cleaned up. She pictured herself in a maids uniform, and Dorsey was the Lord of the Manor, perhaps she’d be dusting, and while the lady of the manor was away, Lord. There were, as you might have already guessed, noboundaries we weren’t willing to cross.One such boundary we crossed was my ingestion offeminine hormones. As you may recall from earlierentries, Patty and her friend found an internet sitethat instructed women how to turn their husbands intofull blown sissies and they both decided I was theperfect candidate. One aspect of the training was the secret feeding offeminine hormones. Though I had an inkling of what theywere up to, I didn’t realize I was already on a diet ofestrogen and other supplements that were intended tofeminize my attitude and appearance. It all came to light one day when Patty return homefrom shopping with Susan. Susan open a package fromSaks and showed me a pair of very pretty floweredpanties. I have always had an appreciation for women’sunder garments but that day my interest was more thancasual. Instead of simply acknowledging the panties aswould be my normal practice, I walked over to whereSusan.
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