The Maleman

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Wife of unfaithful mailman gets her revenge.
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This is an adult story.

It is not for children, young pets, or republicans (kidding!)

It does not represent anything that has ever been done, nor should it ever be tried.

If you are not interested in adult material, please hang up now.

Please do not reprint this anywhere without asking me first.

You have been WARNED.

* * *

For Mistress Belinda.

* * * * *

*ding dong*

"Time for today's mail," Carrie thought as she walked to the door, expecting Bob, her mailman, and occasional 11:00 AM plaything. She thought today would be a wonderful day to have Bob's face under her ass for a bit, feeling his head slip between the cushions on the couch as she settled back, put her feet up, and let him make his appointed rounds. Dressed in just a black, sheer robe, with some nice lace underneath, she sauntered to the door, secure, confident, ready for some fun. Boy was she in for a surprise.

It had been more than a month since Bob had told Melissa, under threat of divorce, that he had been having an affair with someone on his route. Bob was a weasel, and Melissa knew it, but he was HER weasel damn it, and she expected his loyalty. She always had his obedience--Bob was as submissive as they came--but she thought she also had his undying affection and love.

Thinking back, Melissa recognized the signs of infidelity, but simply did not want to acknowledge them until they were just too obvious. Late mail routes, lipstick here and there, smelling of another woman's sex...Eventually she had confronted him and after a serious threat, he had spilled it all. The submission to this other woman, the pedicures, the ass and pussy worship, the humiliation.

"All things that *I* did to and for him," she thought, angrily, "but this was different. I'm his WIFE!" Calming down, she looked in the mirror. Her small, slim frame looked out of place in her husband's postal uniform, but she knew that she had to get the woman to open the door for her. And then, she thought, payback. Glancing at her watch, she readied to go. 10:45. She'd better get moving. Heading out the door, her husband's mail bag over her shoulder, she cast a glance back into the apartment, her gaze resting on her husband, lying on the floor, spread eagled, legs tied to the couch and table, covered in melted wax droplets, balls tied tight, marks on his legs from her switch, dildos in his ass and mouth. She said cheerfully, "See you later, honey. Be good while I'm gone!" and with a laugh departed.

Melissa had just one stop, of course, although she dutifully delivered mail to the nearby houses to look normal. She didn't really look like Bob, but like some random letter carrier in somewhat ill-fitting clothing. You'd have had to really look carefully to see that from under the rumpled pants legs jutted black, leather, spike-heeled boots. Arriving at Carrie's house around 11, the time that Bob admitted that most of his trysts had taken place, she readied her first meeting with the interloper. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the special envelope with the mail-order powder and rang the bell. She waited.

"Who is it?" Carrie said, in a sultry almost whisper, knowing, or thinking that she knew, who waited on her doorstep.

"Mailman," came a different, deadpan voice.

Carrie immediately stopped short, closed her robe tight, and peeked through the viewfinder. What she saw was a short, rumpled mailman, holding out a single letter. She said "One moment!" and dashed off to get a thick terry robe on to cover the see-though material. She opened the door and said, "Yes?"

Melissa held up the letter, open slightly on one side, and, pointing that side towards Carrie, inches from her face, squeezed the small bulb held in her palm. Immediately a white powder burst from the envelope and she watched Carrie's eyes open wide in horror. Melissa simply stood there, holding the envelope in place, watching, waiting.

Carrie took a deep, surprised breath and staggered back into the entryway. She stared at Melissa, not understanding who this was or what had just happened. Fear grew in her rapidly as she watched Melissa follow her into the entryway. Before she could get a word out, she felt her lungs begin to sting and her eyes water. Coughing, she slid to her knees, looking up at the mailman who did this to her. As she slipped into unconsciousness, her head bowing to the floor, she saw the spike heels on the mailman's feet, and just had a moment to wonder about them before everything went black.

Hours later, Carrie awoke, head aching, with no memory of why she was on her couch. She looked at the clock and saw that it was almost 3:00 PM. Thinking back, she could only recall the mail being delivered this morning, and...well, and that was it. She stood, a bit unsteadily, and headed off to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she did not like what she saw. Carrie had always thought of herself as fairly well built. Large breasts, tight ass, slender hips, muscular--these were all phrases that could describe her. However, she felt a bit small across the chest today, and big in the bicep.

"Ah, well," she thought, "I'm sure everything looks bad with a headache like this."

Carrie washed her face and brushed her long, red hair. Smiling at her reflection, she headed back into the living room. As she passed the large, wooden hutch that dominated the wall by the front door, she paused, noticing a small stack of mail. Slapping her hand to her head, she realized that she was supposed to have delivered this to her neighbors' houses. Carrie picked up the 20 or so letters and headed out, still in her robe. She dropped all the mail in the correct boxes and headed home, pleased with her work. Tired, she headed off to bed early after a light supper. Lying in her bed, she remember her hope to toy with Bob this morning, and wondered what had happened to him. Then she wondered what happened to HER. She didn't remember anything for a solid couple of hours this morning.

Thinking back, she assumed he must have come by, but she was asleep on the couch at the time. Damn. Thinking about Bob, though, made her very aroused, and she slid her long, slender fingers inside her lace teddy to her throbbing clit. As she rubbed it, she noted how engorged it felt. She marveled at how wonderful it felt to squeeze it, to rub it, and to roll it between her fingers. Groaning, she brought herself to an especially wet orgasm and collapsed into sleep. The next morning brought some strange changes in Carrie. Waking early for a shower, she felt stronger, but different. As she washed her body, her firm hands moving luxuriously over her body, her breath stopped as she traced over her pussy and her clit. She could hold her clit in one hand. One FULL hand. It was 3 times the size that it had been. Panic struck her and she screamed, slumping to the floor of the shower.

Melissa got out of bed, smiling to herself. She was double-checking the instructions and making sure of the time frame. By now, Carrie should be well along, and probably insane with fear. She had to be nearby before Carrie could run to a hospital or do some other air-headed thing to screw up her plans. No, she would be there when she awoke. Walking across the bumpy rug, she looked down and smiled crookedly at Bob, underfoot.

"Oh, hi dear. Comfy?" she said as she twisted her black toenails into his chest. "I'm going to visit your girlfriend...or should I now call her your boyfriend? Well, you'll see her...or him...soon enough! Be a good boy, now," she chided as she headed out, dressed no longer in a baggy letter-carrier uniform, but the tight, leather outfit of a Domme out for a day with her slave.

She sauntered over the couple of houses to Carrie's place, found the key that she had left herself on that first day, and entered silently. Walking to the bedroom, she was in time to observe Carrie get out of bed, noticing with a supressed giggle the hard-on protruding from her lacy panties. As Carrie got into the shower, Melissa slipped into the bathroom to watch.

Carrie awoke on the floor of the shower, but the water was off. She heard, in the back of her mind, someone speaking. It was a very calming voice and she kept her eyes close while she listened to it. She could have listened to it for hours, and perhaps she did.

When she finally rose and left the shower, it was mid-afternoon, and she felt good. Looking through her closets, she saw all the girlish clothes and knew, somehow, that they just weren't right. She put on panties--yes, that was fine, she thought to herself as she pulled the lace over the 8" penis standing up from between her legs--but the clothes had to go. As she turned out her drawers, looking from one annoying micro-mini to another, her eyes feel on a mailman's uniform sitting on the bed. Without even pausing to wonder how it got there, she seized it and put it on. It fit perfectly, although it seemed a bit stretched in the chest. Something inside of her told her that that would not be that way for long. She finished getting dressed, putting on her loafers over feet that appeared to be more blocky, squatter, a bit wider. The loafers pinched and barely fit. "Ah, well," she thought, "time to do some shopping anyway. But first, the mail must go out!"

With that, Carrie headed out the door, mail in hand, and calmly, patiently, and throughly delivered it all. The route was long and she realized that Bob had amassed quite a following for no less than four times during that 3 hour stretch did she find the door answered by attractive women in very little clothing. They jumped when they noticed that it wasn't Bob, and something in their eyes told her that she was partially recognized, but she smiled and her attractive face was no less attractive now than it was as a woman. Her slim, pretty features looked good on her as a "him." The last house was a house she'd never been to before, and it took awhile for her to register the last name on the mailbox.

Ringing the doorbell, she held the special delivery package in her hands and waited for the owner, whom she assumed was Bob, himself. When the door opened, and the stern, Domineering countenance of Melissa answered the door with a greeting of, "Hello, Mailgirl. Come in and join us."

Shock. Fear. Anger. Within moments, a rapid succession of emotions filled her mind. Images of herself as she was before, an attractive WOMAN, seducing, loving, dominating, whipped through her now overheated mind. Her mind burned as she realized, in a full, overwhelming arc, what this woman had done to her. Her eyes cleared, narrowed, and with almost demonic possession, she croaked, "You...You did this to ME. I'm going to KILL you for it." She started forwards, raising her sleeve over her now burly, hairy arm, forming a huge fist.

Melissa smiled calmly and said, "oh, but this is just the beginning Mr. Postman." As if in a dream, Carrie felt her perceptions change. She stopped charging, slowed to a crawl, then fell to her knees and began a crawl in earnest. She couldn't help herself. Realizing how piteous she was, and nearing tears, she wailed softly, "Oh, God, please...Don't do this to me...I'm sorry."

Still smiling, Melissa turned and walked purposefully into the room, walking around her husband, who was dressed in a short skirt and a leather bra, and tied spread eagle over a chair. She sat in front of him and looked at him with fury in her eyes and said, "Dear, you girlfriend is here to see you."

Carrie was on her knees behind Bob, trembling, when Melissa looked over to her and said, "Remember the talk we had the other day, Mr. Postman? Well, it's time to deliver the Male."

Carrie's eyes glazed over for a moment, and then she stood. She unzipped her pants and pulled aside her panties to release her "clit", now looking for all the world like a large cock, a full 9" long and pulsing. Walking over to Bob, she looked at Melissa, nodded with a "Yes, Sir. I will deliver as promised", and, grabbing the poor, philandering man by the hips, quickly shoved herself home into his tight ass. His screams could be heard down the block, and it is said that day that postmen all over the county flinched inwardly at the same moment, although none of them could have told you what made them do it.

Melissa watch the anal rape with mute interest, offering her obsidian nails to her husbands surprised mouth. As Bob clamped his lips around them and sucked her greedily like the girl she knew he was, she considered the idea of what to do with two slaves. Her experience had shown that women tended to be better at licking her pussy then men were. However, she reflected, looking over at the remaining magic powder, she wondered if that would be true about Bobbi as well.

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