Reversals Ch. 12

"It's supposed to be a special type of ink too," Julia said. "Harder to laser off. Extra durable or something, not sure why exactly. The artist said it was something special," Julia shrugged. "I don't think he's getting rid of that tattoo very easily."

Julia turned towards Eric, wanting to drive the point home, and whispered loudly, dramatically into his ear. "That's not coming off, Eric. Not ever."

Samantha was tingly at the pronouncement. If only all males were similarly marked by their wives the world would be such a better place, she was sure of it. But right now she was only concerned with one male - he was in her way and needed to suffer for it.

"Julia? I hate to ask," Samantha said, trying to sound innocent, "but can I get a slightly better look? I want the full effect, really see how it fits on his back but... his pants are a tiny bit in the way. See? How some of the letters are covered? The very bottom of some of them?"

Julia shrugged then looked at Samantha and the smile on her face. It was an opportunity. "Pull your pants down so Samantha can see better," Julia said.

Eric was grateful that he couldn't see their faces as he undid his pants and slowly pushed them down a few inches. His face burned from shame, from being so utterly exposed, his heart pounding so hard he was afraid he might pass out. How could Julia do this to him?!

"Better?" Julia asked.

Samantha nodded, grinning ear to ear, staring at Eric's back. "Property of Julia Grant," she said, reading it aloud again. "That's really incredible, Julia," she said, genuinely impressed at how quickly Julia had evolved. "Practically, obscene, but in a good way."

Julia smiled. "He needed to understand his place," she said with a cute little shrug.

"Well, that should do it. It's so... extreme," Samantha said.

Julia bit her lip playfully and stared at Eric's tattoo, like she was seeing it for the first time, reading her name over and over, her sense of delight growing by the moment. "It really is pretty extreme, isn't it?" she asked.

"Putting a large tramp-stamp on a man's back declaring him your personal property? Yeah. I'd say so."

A shutter ran up Eric's spine as he became an object of ridicule. He was being unraveled, undone by the words and deeds of women, becoming an object for Julia to do with as she pleased. His cock pulsed at the thought, betraying him again, pleased by the idea of being subjugated and used by the 'weaker sex'.

"Did I mention that he's wearing my handwriting? The artist, she used my handwriting to make the stencil," Julia said.

"Really?!"

Julia nodded, smiling, feeling deliciously naughty, becoming more dominant every day and loving it, reveling in the power. There seemed no end to it. Each submission from Eric left her wanting more. As far as she was concerned, he was so weak and pathetic he deserved what was happening to him, every bit of it.

Samantha smiled. "Well, it's lovely, very feminine. Inspiring, actually. I love it, Julia," she said sincerely. "What does he think about it?"

"Tell, her, Eric. How do you like your pretty, girly tat?"

Eric began to stammer. "I... I..."

"Tell, her! A woman asked a question!" Julia insisted.

He took a deep breath trying to control himself. "Makes me feel... different."

"Different? Different how?" Samantha pressed.

"Tell her, Eric. Tell her the truth otherwise I'll punish you! Maybe I'll take you back to the tattoo shop for that piercing," Julia threatened. "How do you feel different?" she insisted.

Eric trembled, fearful of speaking the truth but even more fearful of telling a lie and getting caught.

"Like, maybe... I sorta am, a little," he said, his cock throbbing at the admission.

"Sorta am, what?" Julia asked annoyed.

"Sorta am... your property," Eric finally said with a shutter, his cock feeling like it was about to explode at the confession.

Julia and Samantha exchanged a meaningful look of satisfaction before turning their attention back towards Julia's self proclaimed man-property. A cruel look overtook Julia's face as she thrust the apron back at Eric.

"Put it back on, Eric," Julia said.

He grabbed the apron-dress and pulled up his pants as high as he could to help hide the shame on his back.

"No! Lose the pants!" Julia commanded. "Socks too."

Eric turned around to face her with a bewildered look. "What?!"

"You can cover yourself with the apron," she said dismissively.

He looked incredulous, horrified. "But, the whole back is open," he complained. "We have a guest," he added glancing towards the wildly grinning Samantha.

Julia glared back at him with withering contempt, her eyes seething with anger at his pointless objections. "I guess we're going back to the tattoo shop."

Eric immediately threw the apron-dress over his head and let his pants fall to the floor, terrified by whatever punishment Julia was on the verge of inflicting. His cock bounced forward, still impossibly stiff, as the skirt of the apron settled in place. Julia's visage softened as be began to tie the apron around his waist. Shaking, he stepped out of the pants on the floor and finally pulled off his socks. He was dizzy, his heart hammering, as he tried to smooth down the flaring skirt of the apron, feeling exposed and vulnerable as cool air moved over sweaty thighs, feeling for the first time in his life like he was wearing a dress.

"Better," Julia said sweetly, as if nothing had happened. "Now, let's get back to dinner. More wine for us, then you can serve the casserole."

Eric nodded as he stepped away from them, moving backwards towards the kitchen, hoping to keep the open back of the apron-dress out of view, trying to maintain some sense of composure. He quickly returned with the wine, deeply self-conscious and ashamed, the breeze under the apron-dress, the openness, making him feel exposed and vulnerable. He wondered how women ever managed it, wearing dresses and skirts, leaving their nether parts so open to the air constantly.

Julia was sitting back at the table when he returned, looking perfectly poised, her skirt riding high into her lap, one leg seductively crossed over the other, sitting there like a queen on her throne waiting for a lowly servant to do her bidding. She held the empty wine glass forward as he approached with a look of contentment. Carefully, he began filling her glass from the wine bottle. She smirked smugly at her submissive sissy, wondering what his apron-dress might look like if his breasts were already sprouting to better fill out the top.

"I have to thank you again, Samantha," Julia said. "Eric looks better than I thought he would in a... dress." He winced at her appraisal almost spilling the wine as he topped off her glass.

Eric approached Samantha next, wine in hand, and began pouring.

"You might want to make him shave his legs though," Samantha said. "Maybe get him an actual dress or two of his own, especially for occasions like this."

Eric's hands trembled at the suggestion, almost spilling the wine on Samantha.

"Careful," she said playfully. "No need to get excited. I'm sure if you ask nicely Julia will be more than happy to buy you some dresses."

Eric flashed an awkward, pained smile towards Samantha, the suggestion clearly distressing, fearful that saying anything might encourage Julia to act on it. He backed away to the kitchen to prepare their plates, using the kitchen table to portion out the meal, trying to hide behind it as best he could.

Wine in hand, Samantha watched him stumbling around in the kitchen to serve them. She took a delicate sip to relish the moment and to further plot his demise. She couldn't have hoped for a better outcome with the apron. Julia seemed to be throughly enjoying humiliating him and after being stripped down to his underwear, the apron-dress really did make him look more like a petulant little servant girl than a man. Regardless, she still wanted to undermine him more, hurt him, crush his ego.

"You know what you're problem is?" Samantha asked Eric rhetorically.

He looked up for a moment from the kitchen and only shook his head, wanting nothing to do her.

"You've lost the battle of the sexes. Not just you but men in general. You're still catching up, trying to figure out the terms of surrender."

Eric continued dressing their plates. He wanted to scoff at her claim but given his situation, being a subordinate male to a dominant female, it seemed absurd to offer a defense. Julia had changed him, taken over everything. Were other women doing the same thing to their men? The prospect was terrifying.

Samantha had the serene look of a victor enjoying the spoils of the vanquished as she calmly took another sip of wine. Then, she made an astonishing statement - "You're entire gender is obsolete."

Eric's eyes went wide and for some inexplicable reason his cock twitched to attention. "What?!" It was all he could muster.

"I'm quite serious," Samantha said. "Males have become increasingly obsolete in the modern world. I'll grant that there's still value in the genetic material you provide for procreation but outside of that womyn don't really need you anymore. In fact, there's very good arguments to suggest your gender is more of a liability than an asset."

"But... we do most the work. I don't-"

"Whatever gave you that idea?!" Samantha said interrupting him, looking annoyed. Julia looked annoyed too, the scowl forming on her face making Eric nervous.

"The last article I read said that womyn represented the majority of the work force now," Samantha said.

Eric shrugged, trying to show indifference. He added a small sprig of parsley to each plate as a garnish and began walking them over.

"But that's only part of the story," Samantha said. "Competitively, men are falling way behind womyn too and it's only going to get worse for you. We're outpacing men in college degrees by quite a bit now, not in every discipline yet but overall we're way ahead. Look it up on the Net if you don't believe me."

Eric sat the plates down for the women, serving them, wondering how it was possible that men had fallen so far. If what she was saying was true, it was profound.

"That means we're starting to take over most the professions," Julia added. "What you liked to call gender politics is simply the marketplace recognizing where most the true talent is," Julia said smiling. "Makes me proud to be...," Julia paused as emotion suffused her face, "a womon."

Samantha beamed at her, tenderly reaching across the table to take her hand, celebrating the moment with her - Julia had redefined herself.

Julia nodded at Samantha, welcoming the caress, as she dabbed the tears out of her eyes. "Yes," she said, nodding. "I'm really very proud to be a womon."

Eric stood there frozen, not knowing what to make of them, feeling deeply uneasy, even threatened.

"More and more womyn are waking up everyday," Samantha enthused. "The matriarchy is real and it's growing, getting stronger every day." She turned back towards Eric with a stoney gaze. "Are you beginning to get it yet?" she asked him in a patronizing tone. "While more and more men are getting lost in their video games and fantasy worlds, avoiding college, half of them still sleeping in their parent's basement in their jammies, womyn have been moving past you, working hard in the real world, displacing your kind, and we're slowly taking over. Everything. Everywhere."

Eric felt a chill run up his spine. The room went quiet. Suddenly, everything that had happened made more sense. Samantha was at the root of it, had to be. She had worked her way in and twisted Julia up with some type of radical, dark, man-hating version of feminism.

"Are you trembling, Eric?!" Julia asked.

He was staring off into the distance, lost in a swirl of disturbing images of men at the feet of powerful women, licking their feet, begging for favors. He tried to calm himself as the room came back into focus. "I'm... fine," he said, lying.

"Don't feel too bad," Samantha said to him. "It's evolution. Males have served their purpose... on the evolutionary stage that is. Now it's time for womyn to take over. It's really that simple. We needed your physical strength and aggression in the past but we've evolved past all that. We don't need it anymore. We have machines and technology and science and medicine and-"

"Cities and, laws and, government!" Julia offered.

"Exactly," Samantha agreed. "The point is, the testosterone that used to be an evolutionary advantage, a survival asset is poison now. It fuels pointless aggression and violence and crime."

Eric stood there dumbfounded at the twisted reasoning but couldn't help to wonder if maybe a tiny portion of it might make some sense.

"It's nothing to get depressed about," Samantha said. "It's just time for a change. Men need to find their place in the new order of things. It's time for the patriarchy to end and for the matriarchy to begin."

The very notion ran another chill up Eric's spine.

"Womyn are far better suited to the modern world. The sooner men understand that and accept their new place the better all of us will be."

"Like I said before," Julia started, taking a sip of wine, "you should think of yourself as my wife. You're the homemaker and soon you're also going to be the mother to our children."

Samantha locked eyes with Julia at the pronouncement.

"More wine, wife," Julia commanded, pushing her glass forward, smiling ear to ear.

Samantha did the same, confidently.

Eric filled them with trembling hands.

Dinner continued much as it had after that. The women chatted away and dined while Eric serviced them in his apron-dress and pretty nails, with humiliating, hurtful comments being hurled at him throughout the evening. By the time Samantha was finally ready to leave, Eric felt emotionally battered, his head pounding from the abuse. He could hardly wait to be rid of her. Julia could be bad, but seemed even worse with Samantha around.

Samantha was standing, gathering her things, when she turned toward Eric in the kitchen. "It was interesting meeting you, Eric," she said, running her eyes over him with disdain, biting her lip derisively.

Eric quickly rose from the kitchen table, smoothing down the apron-dress, and walked towards her, nodding, attempting a reassuring smile despite his aching, pounding head.

She extended her hand towards him, inviting a handshake, her nails a deep red, like a rich wine, shorter than Julia's, they were still beautiful and very feminine. He grasped her hand gently and tried to smile again.

Instead of shaking, Samantha turned his hand over and examined his manicure instead, pursing her lips with disapproval. "Streaky," she declared. "I'm sure you'll get better with time and practice," she added, releasing his hand. "It's a good thing Julia is having you grow them out, so you can work on her nails eventually."

"You're still planning on doing that, right?" she asked Julia.

Julia nodded, smirking. "Absolutely."

"Good," Samantha said, smiling.

Eric flashed her an insincere smile, his head pounding all the harder at the woman responsible for Julia's new dictate.

"I imagine, next time we meet, your nails will be longer than mine," Samantha concluded. "Won't that be sweet? Having nice, long, feminine nails, all the time?"

Eric suddenly got queasy thinking about it. If Julia held firm on having him grow them out they'd be impossible to hide from people! How would he do things out in public?!

Satisfied by Eric's plight, Samantha smiled broadly and walked to the door. Julia followed to see their guest out as Eric retreated to the kitchen to begin cleaning up the dinner dishes, while he tried to forget as much of the evening as possible.

Both of the women's heels clicked on the entryway tiles as Samantha prepared to leave.

"It really was a fun evening," Samantha said. "Thanks so much for having me over."

"It was fun wasn't it, Sam," Julia said enthusiastically. "We'll have to do it again sometime."

"I'd really like that," Samantha said as she reached for Julia's hand to give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. She quickly leaned in close to Julia's ear with a mischievous look. "Eric looked lovely tonight, by the way," she whispered. "You're doing a good job with him. That tattoo is beyond precious. I can hardly wait to see what he looks like when he starts filling out that apron."

Julia smiled wickedly. "I think I'm going to make that appointment for him. Next week."

Samantha's eyes went wide.

Julia nodded. "I think he might be ready."

"Don't let up on him, Julia," Samantha whispered, the words laced with the excitement she felt.

Julia ran her tongue over her teeth playfully, like a cat cleaning its fangs. She took a quick peek over her shoulder to make sure Eric wasn't in earshot. "I have a lot more planned for my little, submissive sissy," she said, twisting her lips with sadistic glee.

Samantha leaned in and gave Julia a platonic kiss on the cheek and followed it with a friendly hug. A few moments later she walked into the hall as Julia gently closed the door behind her friend.

Julia stood in the entryway with a broad smile lighting up her beautiful face, a smile concealing the deeply cruel thoughts harboring inside for her worm. The poor little fool had no idea what was coming. He would service her on his knees tonight, in that cute little apron, to satisfy the pleasing ache building under her skirt. But first, she would toy with him a bit, point out his inadequacies, further manipulate him.

"Time to inspect your streaky nails, Eric!" she proclaimed.