I couldn’t believe my life had come to this, waiting in my car as evening began to settle over Far H

I couldn’t believe my life had come to this, waiting in my car as evening began to settle over Far Horizons Medical Associates, watching for Melissa to pull out of the parking lot. We had just walked out together, after what turned out to be a long day of patients for me and…whatever it is she does…for her. A catch-up day, for sure, after a week away from work. Our chat, as we had locked up the office and both headed out to our cars, was idle and friendly. She was headed to the gym, and asked what I’d be doing tonight. I lied, of course, telling her my wife, Sheryl, had a nice dinner planned. Maybe we’d catch up on the series we’d been watching. But here I was, watching Melissa finally pull out of the lot and disappear into traffic in her white beemer. Only then did I think it safe to turn off my car, grab my bag, surreptitiously hurry back to the building, and sneak back inside. I felt so foolish…My practice, I guess I should explain, occupied the biggest of three decent-sized office suites on the ground floor of our building. Well, I say “our”, but it was really Sheryl’s. She had bought it as an investment property, years ago, and rented the space back to the practice. One of the other two suites had been a physical therapy office, but was now recently vacant. Sheryl hadn’t, as far as I knew, been looking actively for new tenants. The third set of offices was currently a financial advisory group; they’d been there a while. Above the first floor, there were some smaller spaces Sheryl also rented out for little private offices. There was a patent attorney, a coin trader and a couple CPA’s, but most of them had recently been vacant, too. There was also one space that she’d converted to a basic little studio apartment that was, as of just last night, no longer vacant. It was now, in fact, where I was heading. Furtively, I entered the main foyer space of the building through the glass doors from outside, hoping beyond hope that I hadn’t been seen. While the now-locked entrance to FHMA was directly on my right, those to the other two suites on the opposite wall, I headed to an unmarked door in the far corner, which led to a stark, cement stairway, which went up to the second floor hallway, a utilitarian passage which itself led me to……home. I struggled a bit with the key but finally got the door opened, switched on the fluorescent overhead light, and sighed. I was greeted with several small stacks of boxes, an old couch, and the silence of bare white walls. At least it smelled okay. The fight, last night, was a bad one. I’d known, driving home from the airport, that Sheryl would be waiting for me at home. I realized, of course, even when I was down south at the conference with Melissa, that a full week away was too much. The extra few days at the end to relax was irresponsible, escapist, just a chance to avoid the problems I had up here in my real life - the tensions at home, in my marriage. The loss of respect I’d been feeling at work. I knew in the end it was just going to make them all worse, exacerbating the already festering issues. Now it was coming to a head……and the photos didn’t help. Sheryl had, I immediately saw as I had stepped in the front door, a manilla folder full of them. Possibly two, in fact. “Hi honey,” she said plainly, as I struggled my bag into the living room, dropping it in the arched doorway, “welcome back.”Full-page photographs, mostly of Melissa posed in various bikinis, lay strewn across our coffee table, spilled from the folder labeled “phone”, in black sharpie. I recognized them all: the white bikini, the burgundy, the rainbow. There were also a few more photos, Melissa in a beach dress, Melissa laughing, a selfie of the two of us together. I recognized those too. I recognized all these pictures, of course, because I had taken them. “Hey uh…what’s all this..?” I asked, dumbly, as my heart began to race. Oh my god, what had she done?? I knew - now, at least - that whatever pictures I took with my phone automatically got shared with Sheryl, that she could see them. I’d kicked myself for my naivete multiple times upside-down and sideways since she’d explained that to me, having seen all the damning modeling pics I’d taken for Melissa at the beach last Wednesday. This was obviously a folder full of them. What was in the other?“I don’t know, honey. Why don’t you tell me..?” Sheryl answered. I, of course, was totally awkward, inept and hapless in my defense. How does one explain hundreds of bikini shots of one’s Uber-buxom Office Manager on one’s phone to one’s wife? Or the photo Melissa took of me, with lipstick on my forehead? How does one argue one’s point when one’s opponent is a high-powered corporate attorney who has prepared her case and stacked her deck against one? One does it…poorly. I tried, I really did, to assuage Sheryl, to convince her that nothing happened during our trip, between me and Melissa. Nothing did!! Really!! But I knew my heart was not in it, and - if I was being honest - throughout the last two months since I’d hired Melissa I’d been effectively unfaithful to Sheryl, at least in spirit. I did my best, though, to plead my case and she watched me do it, sitting there on the couch in what she’d call her “warrior princess” look. Hair, clothes and makeup she’d use when she knew her adversary was a male easily swayed by such an appearance…one such as myself. Sheryl was a beautiful woman, and she knew it. She knew the warpaint, the big fluffy blond hair and the tight dress showing off her healthy implants would give her power in this exchange, tip the scales even further in her favor.  But her coup-de-grace was the pictures. She had printed them, of course, to humiliate me. Nice and big, glossy, they were certainly all that, for sure. But, of course, they’d also be pretty useful to her in court, since she’d have to expect I’d delete them from my phone…which I’d done (after saving them al elsewherel…) Nonetheless, here was her proof. She had let me talk, and then she went on her tirade. It actually started calmly enough. “Do you realize how weak you look, how pathetic,” she began, coolly,  “spending your time with her? This…girl?”“M-Melissa’s n-not just a ‘girl’…” I retorted, beginning to defend myself, trying to match Sheryl’s composure, but feeling the heat in my face already and hearing the stumble in my speech, “this was for work, she’s an employee, our office manager, a…a…”“A what? A G-cup?” she snappedshe’s actually an H-cup…I thought to myself, in a silent flush of shame. Sheryl knew, of course, my history, my weakness for the young and buxom. It had nearly ended our marriage in the past, several times. “At first, when you first hired her, I was more disappointed in you than angry,” she continued, regaining her poise, “knowing why you’d done it, that you were basically helpless. I was disappointed that you, after all these years, were still so weak-willed and stupid. I do suppose it’s no picnic having that huge penis of yours. It’s honestly the only outstanding thing about you, but it must be a burden. It sort of overwhelms your brain, doesn’t it? Make you make these stupid decisions?”This was so humiliating. “Sheryl, c’mon..”“No, really,” she said, calmly, “Sometimes I think I shouldn’t blame you for being a slave to that…thing. You’re just a man, and your erection is the biggest part about you. But you’re also my husband. You made a commitment, and I’ve worked so hard on this marriage. So, yes, back then, when you hired her, I was disappointed…but I wasn’t angry.”Oh my god I felt like a child being scolded, but in my disgrace I held my tongue. “But now,” she continued, the heat beginning to build in her voice, “seeing all those pictures, seeing her tits all over you phone, seeing the two of you together, now I’m angry…”“Sh-Sheryl, listen, I-“ I tried, stepping towards where she sat. “Is that really what you want?” she asked, voice breaking for the first time, “To be with someone like her? Someone young and dumb? It is, isn’t it? You like that she’s big and young and dumb, that she’s soft and pretty and that she adores you…”I stepped in again. “n-no, honey, wait…”“Don’t ‘honey’ me…” she bit, “not after you hired not just her, but a whole harem of them. Because that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Building yourself a harem of young, dumb, soft pretty things?”“Sheryl, pleas-““Be quiet,” she commanded, suddenly standing up from the couch.I gasped, and visibly took a step back. She was surprisingly, impressively tall in her office stilettos, and I couldn’t hide my shock. If she noticed, she said nothing, just narrowed her eyes for a moment and pressed on. “You should just go be with your big-boobie office manager, your new little bunnies, if that’s what you want. Let them take you and coddle you, tell you it’s all okay. Let them kiss away all the boo-boos you got from your big, mean wife.”She took a step towards me; I took a step back. A smile curled on her face as she watched my reaction. “Oh, yes. Don’t think I don’t know,” she continued, her voice chilling again, “don’t think that I don’t know what you did with Rina, your secret little fantasies. I know what you like, they all know what you like. Rina told them at the office four years ago and it’s going to follow you for the rest of your life.”Sheryl stepped right up to me; we were eye-to-eye. wh-what the…?? She watched the shivers run through me as I realized I was not just dealing with someone who could intellectually and emotionally dwarf me, but someone who could also possibly physically harm me as well. “Sheryl, h-hold on…wh-what Rina and I did, it-“Her smile frightened me, and her voice changed. “Awwwww,” she cooed, in baby-talk, her eyes flashing as she took to releasing the years of pent-up resentment, “All that baby-play, what you did with Rina, is that what you want, sweetie-pie?” Suddenly unable to face her, I turned away, stepped away. I felt her following behind. “You miss it, hmm? You want it again, right, baby?” she persisted, hammering away at me from behind in that babydoll voice, “But now you want ‘Melissssy’ to be your mommy now, don’t you?? Yes…yes you do!”“Sheryl, s-stop..!”“Oh, I’m sorry..! Is that emasculating??” she chided,  “Am I emasculating you? Telling you that I know, that everybody knows, that what you really want is to be an infant?? That you may look like a big strong man - or, whatever you are, these days - but inside you’re nothing but a child. A toddler. A little needy baby that just wants its mommy.”“Oh my god Sheryl, n-no, please…” From behind she took my shoulder and, forcefully, spun me around to face her. “You look at me,” she ordered, “Look at me when I’m talking to you, you understand?”Meekly, I nodded. “y-y-yes…” I answered. . She sneered at me. “Jesus. Face it, honey, you’re an infant already,” she told me, her eyes boring into mine as my gaze dropped; she allowed it, as I was looking at her chest. “Think about it: women own your business, women own your house, women organize and keep your little practice running,” she said, laying bare all my deepest truths, opening the wound that has festered for years. All I could do was stand there and take it, eyes cast downward. “Women figure out what you’re going to eat, what you’re going to wear. And you love it, how we infantilize you, you don’t fight it at all,” she continued, “You all do, you men, these days. You love it. It’s everywhere. Men are becoming like little babies, more helpless every day, while women are working harder, becoming their big, competent mommies, taking care of everything, letting you cling to us just to make it through life. It’s happening, you’ve seen it…”She looked at me, pausing in her diatribe, and considered. She had me sufficiently cowed, obsequiously speechless; her voice dropped. “But you…you…you’ve been this way all along. That’s what makes you different,” she said, half-cryptic, “That’s why they want you.”“wh-what do you m-mean?“ I asked, a strange fear gripping me, a primal instinct, making me find my tongue and raise my eyes to her. She pressed on like she didn’t hear me. “In some ways I guess I can’t blame you,” she continued, “You’re a beta male, surrounded by alpha females…” Oh my god, this? Sheryl, too??“…Me, Melissa, all the rest, all of us alphas,” she stated, as if it was plain as day, “It’s the hierarchy of mankind…or in your case womankind. There’s no way you can avoid it.”“wh-where is this coming from??” I suddenly blurted, the fear and confusion in me bubbling up finally in a defensive yawp, “Is this from those meetings you’ve been going to? I don’t know if I want you going to them any more..!”holy shit what did I just say..???“WHAT?!?” she screamed, her hands suddenly on my chest, pushing me with surprising force backwards. I stumbled, my knees catching the overstuffed chair behind me. I fell backwards into it, and sat frozen, stunned, gaping up at her in shock and fright. My heart raced.She looked down at me, eyes wide. She seemed, for the moment, surprised herself, that she was capable of what she just did…and at how easy it was. She took a step towards me; I recoiled below as she seethed. “Y’know what I wish? Hm?!?” she glared down at me, imperiously, over her nose and full chest as her anger flashed again, “I hope that someday, someday soon…I hope you get exactly what you want. I hope you get a woman that really emasculates you. That just dwarfs you, with all that she is. A woman that makes you feel tiny, like the weak little man you really are.”I watched as the anger of the last seven years all came to bear above me, in her, as she began to rage. “Oh god!” she cried, “I hope someday you get what you really want! I hope you get crushed between the tits of a huge, strong woman!! I hope you get shrunk to the size of a tiny little bug by her, I do, and I hope I get to watch!” Jesus christ what is she saying?!? Where did she get this?!? And why - oh god no - am I getting..? I can’t let her see…In her fury, she continued, her fists balled. “Oh god I’d like to see that, I’d like to see you squashed,” she spit, “I’d crush you myself, if I could. I’d crush you under my big, high heel.”I moaned, a pitiful wail. She looked at me, aghast. “Oh god this is turning you on right now, isn’t it?!?” she fumed, suddenly incredulous, “Me yelling at you? Me humiliating you??”  She leaned over, brought her face so close to mine. I backed away, retreating the inches I could. Her fists still balled, she all but snarled: “Do you get aroused when a strong woman gets angry at you?” She watched me trembling, and dropped her voice as she began to speak more slowly. “Oh my god you do. You get off on being…belittled,” she said, “Being made to feel small by the anger of a woman. And you love that, you love feeling small, don’t you..?”She considered me, thought for a moment, ignoring the near-wordless denials I was trying to form. “Well, then, let me help you out, if you want to feel small,” she said and then, without another word, she grabbed me through my pants,“Sh-Sheryl, no..!” I sobbed, weakly moving to grab her wrist. She slapped me away, her hand now forcefully half-encircling my turgid girth through my khakis. She squeezed, then she unleashed. “Would it make you feel small if I told you I have more than fifty times the money that you do?? Hm?” she sneered, inches from my face, pressing my outsized cock down into my thigh, feeling it harden with her anger, under her abuse, “That with my new jobs I made more last week than you made in a year. You didn’t know that, did you?? No - I do all our banking, I do all our finances. You wouldn’t know. You let me take care of everything. I own this house, I own the practice.” She squeezed my shaft, roughly, making me spasm, my whole body tense towards her. “You’ve been basically nothing but an employee of mine these past thirteen years. An employee that I let live under my roof, eat my food…”Insistently, she began to stroke my cock through my pants, slowly, with a strong grip and commanding authority. “How does it feel to be a kept man, hm?” she asked, watching my eyes flutter helplessly in the newly lit blaze of arousal to which she had me held, mercilessly working me now, “I know you. You like people to think that I stay with you because you’re a rich doctor, that you’re a successful man. But it’s really quite the opposite, isn’t it? You stay with me because you’d be nothing without me. I own your house, I own your car. I’m your fucking boss. You have barely anything in savings and what you do have I would totally consume with our pre-nup” My voice began to bubble up, to tremble. “w-w-why…?” was all I could manage, not even knowing what I was asking. ”Why? Why do I stay with you?!? Oh my god I ask myself that all the time, all these years, through all the affairs and the mistakes and the absolute pitiful way you run your life.” My question, my audacity to speak, had only caused her to redouble her efforts; she squeezed me again, pumped me harder. “Why do I stay with you?? I don’t know- maybe because I loved you, once? Maybe because I felt, somehow, that someday you’d change? Or maybe because…maybe because I started to like it. Maybe I started to like the feeling of making more than my husband, of watching him get smaller and smaller to me, inside our home, as I grew bigger and bigger outside it, wealthier and wealthier, more and more successful as he slowly turned into this…this…this little worm, writhing under me, clinging to me. God!!!” she exclaimed, suddenly rising up a bit, putting her free hand on my shoulder, “Do you see what you’ve done to me?!? What you’ve made me become?!?”Whether on purpose or not, she’d positioned her upper body right in front of my face, forcing me to stare at her chest as she worked my cock. I can see her bra, she’s swelling out of it, modest implants under taut flesh. Implants she got for me, years ago. So she could…do this, more easily. And it worked, it fucking worked…I groaned again. I was already so close…so close to…to coming…oh god no, not in…not in my pants…p-please Sheryl…“But, yes. Part of me liked the idea of owning you,” she mused, allowing me to just gape at her cleavage, knowing I was close, “Of having you as a kept man. But now…now…it’s done. I’ve decided - I don’t want to keep you any more. They can have you…”She reached behind herself, grabbed something off the coffee table, her left hand never leaving my lap.She held it right in front of me, right before my eyes, a picture…“They can have you…”With a grunt, a lurch that buckled me forward in my seat, I came under her hand, I came in my pants, I came in the most shameful way I could imagine. I came in my pants under my wife’s strong hand as she kicked me out of the house and gave me to Melissa’s tits“Unh, unh, unh…” I whined, allowing myself only the briefest of moments to ogle the photo, and then casting my eyes down, clamping them shut in my vileness. My cock, so huge, bucked and jerked in the hips of my khakis, soaking them - I felt that already, its hot brine, gooping onto my thigh, making a mess.“There you go,” Sheryl said, her hand still squeezing my firm spongy shaft, “get it all out…”I groaned, I groaned as I felt Sheryl move, putting down the photo so she could support me with her right hand to my shoulder. Otherwise, I would have folded forward, right into herShe squeezed me, she milked me, she urged and pulled everything she could from my cock, into my pants, and as my eyes began to open I saw the spectacle, the shameful stain darkening my pant-leg, nearly the entire thing from mid-thigh down to my knee.”a-are you divorcing me?” I peeped, finally, the first words I could manage as my climax faded, my cock pulsing weakly now. My meekly resigned question sounded fully like a demission, obsequious surrender to whatever she wanted. “No, I’m not divorcing you,” she replied, with austere plainness, “The world would eat you alive, and I’m not ready for that yet.” She watched the monstrosity of my erection fading, under her hand. “But I am kicking you out of my house.”Where will I go??? I thought, with passive acceptance, even as the last pulses of climax had yet to fade. Images of sleeping in my car, soaked in my own filth, crept through my skull.As if reading my mind (omigod can they all do that??) Sheryl spoke up. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to be homeless,” she said, still tenderly massaging the now softening mush of my spent manhood, squishing it wetly into my leg, “But…you do need to be put in your place. So, I have a place for you. It’s perfect. Nice and small.”The apartment, at the office, hers, she explained, as I watched her left hand tend to my afterspasms. I’d live there, I’d live in the little apartment she kept as a side thought, a pittance of her charity. I knew I really had no other option, and hung my head. It proved how dependent I was on her; I’d have a place to live only on account of her good graces. It was just something else she could lord over me, show me how small I was. “Now, get up. Get up,” she instructed, finally peeling her hand off me, leaving me sticky and foul as she sat back, “Get up and leave. I’ve packed your bags, your things. They’re all there already.” She stood, over me, seeing me still trembling from my trauma. “Just go, here’s a key-“ she said, fishing into her top and pulling a key from her bra.“Sh-Sheryl…?”Dismissively, she tossed it at me. “Go lose yourself in her tits for all I care.” It bounced off my chest, slid down onto the chair.Clumsily, I floundered at finding the key in the cushion, as all the while Sheryl  straightened her skirt, smoothed her hair. “n-no, I’m going to show you,” I began, finally gathering the key, finally starting to stand, rising wobbly to my feet, “I’m n-not that weak. I’m going to prove myself to you…””Sure you will,” she said, not even looking at me at this point, “now get out.”“Sheryl, c’mon…”“Get. Out.” Her eyes were on me again, cold and hard. She pointed at the door.At the end, the end of my time in my home of seven years, I was walking towards the front door when my wife said one last thing to me. “Wait…” she said, causing me to pause, look back.“Turn around…” she said, regarding me with new, discriminating eyes, “…are you shorter?” ==============Thanks to TopographicSociety and tumblr reader nycslave for inspirations -- source link

More pics about