The Dominant Male

gave her much more womanly hips.
    The enormous silicone boobs emerging from the fake-fur top was not the result of extreme surgery, but completely fake, held on only by the leather harness around the upper body.
    The girls came back just then, Angharad now wearing a gorgeous leather corset-dress of Cathy’s, looking every inch a dream dominatrix. Ian was entranced. I saw the girls exchange a glance; they’d noticed too.
    I asked them if they’d like to see a puppy, both said yes, so I left them with Cathy and sought out Rosie. By now she’d cleared up, everything was put away, I told her to fetch the Fifi outfit and meet me in my study.
    On her return I had her take off everything she wore and clean off her make-up. I then helped her into the Fifi outfit, one a bit like Cutie’s, but a generation on, made for her.
    I buckled on her dog collar, clipped her lead to it, and ordered, ‘Heel!’
    She immediately took her position on all fours to my left and obediently kept pace and position as I walked back into the room. I had her ‘Sit!’ in the centre of the room, and introduced Fifi.
    They’d barely spared a glance as Rosie had served our meal, but now she was revealed to be male, with short silver hair, and in his sixties. Unlike Cutie he had no top or knickers, his gender was plain to see, but the cock was securely locked up.
    I had him ‘Fetch!’, ‘Heel!’, ‘Stay!’ I explained that he’d far rather have had a girlie outfit like Cutie’s, but that time as a dog was not for his pleasure, but for my amusement, and for me to demonstrate to both of us that I could take total control of her at the most basic level. Something that we both wanted, and indeed needed, to maintain the relationship of Master and slave.
    Moreover that even when she was in normal clothes or her maid outfit, I could still have her revert instantly to her being my dog, by ordering; ‘Fifi, sit!’ at any place or time, even in public; I’d once had her do it in the middle of a supermarket. Another time I had her ‘Fetch!’ a stick for me on all fours, in a public park, much to the amusement of a couple of bystanders. Just because I could, and wanted to.
    I then led Fifi out, to spend the night in her kennel under the stairs.
    On my return I asked Ian if he was game to try it, and Angharad if I could train him as a puppy. They both agreed. On me saying, ‘I’ve not seen a puppy with clothes on before’, Ian stripped eagerly.
    I had him ‘Sit!’, arranging him so he was kneeling, knees apart, fists to the floor, hiding nothing; well, actually it wasn’t nothing, it was a most impressive erection.
    I told him he was a ‘good boy’ and fussed him a bit, then I had him walk ‘to Heel!’ and to ‘Fetch!’ I rewarded him each time with a handful of mixed nuts from my open hand. I told him he was a ‘good boy’ each time, with a stroke and a pat. He moved smartly and neatly to my orders.
    I invited Angharad to take over, and she did, hesitantly at first, then more confidently, until at last his reactions slowed. I suggested it was nearly time for bed and let Ian stretch out to rest on the floor.
    I then told the girls that he’d told me that he’d really wanted to be a bitch like Cutie. Angharad was astonished, but Cathy explained that it was common for submissive men to go that way, it didn’t mean he was gay, or any less keen on her as a woman, he just wanted to be pretty for her, be fussed and petted as Cutie was: Angharad seemed to understand, and asked me to send a sketch of Fifi’s outfit.
    In the morning they both thanked us effusively for the meal and the evening, inviting us back to their place for a visit in a few week’s time.
    On arrival at their place on that later visit Angharad opened the door for us, in an outfit reminiscent of Cathy’s outfit she’d borrowed, but more figure-flattering and suited more to daytimes.
    She whistled. Ian, now a human-poodle-bitch, in an outfit that combined the best of Cutie’s and Fifi’s, rushed out on all fours to greet us. The outfit was really over the top, with a pink collar with her new name, Sissie, picked out in diamanté.
    We’d brought Rosie along, now back in uniform, so that Angharad could be our hostess, whilst Rosie took care of the details. So asking Rosie to bring us a cup of tea, and calling Sissie to heel, Angharad led us out into her garden.
    We sat around the patio table. Once we’d had our tea and Sissie had had water from a bowl, she