The morning of my 37th birthday, I woke up early. It was Saturday, but by 6:30 AM, I couldn't sleep anymore in the little twin bed jammed into the tiny guest bedroom. I got out of bed, made some coffee, paced around the house, then went to the store.
I needed to stock up. I was almost out of the craft soft drinks that Taelyn likes. I didn't dare run out. I also needed some of the IPAs that her boyfriend drinks. And of course, I needed food. I needed everything to make anything she might want. Satisfied with my purchases, I bought myself another coffee - a birthday treat - then headed home.
Back at the house, I set down everything - all the groceries, all the supplies - just inside the door. Closing it behind me, I stripped. Every shred of clothing came off, one step into the house. Naked, I let my clothes fall into a pile on the floor. I paused and stretched, arms over my head. This still felt so bizarre. I looked down at my naked body, cock enclosed in its solid metal sheath, and closed my eyes. It still seemed beyond bizarre how I'd ended up like this.
Opening the droor in the little stand by the door, I pulled out the pair of blue jeans that were always there, ready for me. Unless I was sleeping, at home, this was what I wore. The jeans, and only the jeans. Taelyn liked it that way. Stepping into them, I pulled them on, then up and over my bare ass. They were tight. God, they were tight. I pushed down on my cock cage to tuck it in, then zipped and buttoned the jeans. Ready for the day.
I spent the morning cleaning, straightening, and organizing, hoping everything would be satisfactory for her. I allowed myself a few breaks to read, or watch TV, but I tried to be prepared. She'd probably be here today. She usually came on Saturday.
The morning gave me plenty of time to reminisce. This year had been eventful. One year ago, I'd been married. Not necessarily happily, but I'd been married. A few months later, I was moving into this house, not far from campus, not far from where I'd met my now ex-wife.
The first week of our separation had been uneventful. But the very next weekend, everything changed. Late Sunday afternoon, picking up Indian takeout, just trying to get in and out quickly, I'd run into Taelyn. I was surprised she recognized me. It had been years, after all, years since her family lived on our street, years since she'd run through the sprinklers in our yard. Taelyn was full of questions.
"Why are you living down here?"
Little Taelyn wasn't so little anymore. She'd grown up.
"So what happened to split you two up?"
It had been so strange, talking with her about it, about THAT.
"Seriously, you were sneaking around going to BDSM clubs? Why didn't you just do that stuff with your wife?"
It was a reasonable question.
"You never told her!"
Taelyn had gasped, amazed.
"How could you not tell her? You can't keep these things secret, Chris!"
I'd been embarrassed that Taelyn knew, even though I'd volunteered the information. Taelyn, who I could still picture as the kid cutting across our back yard to her friend's house, now amazingly a college student, a sophomore to be precise. Almost twenty. A self-assured, confident young woman.
But I was embarrassed. Taelyn was smart, and curious, and so heartbreakingly cute, her light brown hair and lighter brown eyes, tiny nose and funny little lips. She looked amazing, and the fact that she knew this embarrassing little detail about me, well, it rattled me.
It never rattled Taelyn. Within the week, she'd shown up at my house, unannounced. Invited herself to sit down on the couch and turn on the TV.
"Chris, you're going to wash my flip-flops," she'd said, sliding them off.
I remember just looking at her, stunned.
"Well do it, do it now!" she'd said. "Run some hot water and soap in the sink. You can scrub them with your hands, then rinse them and let them dry."
I was almost as shocked that I found myself doing it, found myself inexplicably obeying her, than I was that she'd strutted right into my house in full bossy mode.
"Well kneel down there and put them on my feet."
She'd said it assertively and casually, but she'd said it. I still thought I was dreaming. It had come out in her effortlessly bossy voice when I had tried to hand the flip flops back to Taelyn, apparently a mistake.
"I mean it. Get down there where you belong."
With that, I knew something serious was happening here. Within a week, I was doing her laundry while she commandeered my house, using it as a resting place, a haven, a study retreat. Within two weeks, I was buying everything she expected to be stocked in the house. I found myself cooking her meals. It was so bizarre how she just bossed me around, just gave orders, fully expecting to be obeyed. It was just as strange, not to mention embarrassing, how I never once questioned her. I couldn't help it. I just obeyed.
By the end of the month, I was kissing Taelyn's bare feet.
Things had progressed steadily over the past ten months, though looking back over them, it all seemed so sudden. It was only two weeks ago that I was moving all my clothes, all my things, out of the master bedroom, and setting myself up in the tiny guest room. The big bedroom, and the bed, they belonged to Taelyn. She needed them for occasional naps whenever she stopped by. I was only allowed in the master bedroom anymore to clean and change the sheets.
It was Taelyn's house now.
I sighed as I contemplated how fast my life had changed. I'd never expected to actually live this way. I never thought all these perverted dreams would come true. It wasn't as easy in real life as it had been in my constant fantasies. Making my little bed in my tiny crowded room, the reality of my new situation hit hard, making me wince in embarrassment. Just as it did, I heard the front door open.
Two voices. Taelyn, giggling and flirty. And a male voice, of course. Zak was here too. His presence always sent my humiliation into the stratosphere. Damn it. I'd better get downstairs quickly, I thought.
Taelyn and Zak were half-sitting, half lying on the couch, tangled in each other. Silently, walking carefully, unobtrusively, with soft steps and graceful movements, I approached the couch and knelt. Pressing my face to the floor, and my palms to the floor beside my face, on the hardwood facing Taelyn, I waited.
She didn't acknowledge me, not at first. Taelyn was preoccupied, kissing Zak, teasing him, laughing. I took a deep breath. Finally, after several minutes, my presence was noted.
"Hello, Chris!"
"Hello, Miss Taelyn."
I waited several more minutes. Eventually, I was given an order.
"I want a birch soda, Chris. Zak, want anything?"
"Yeah. A beer. You know the one."
"Yes, Miss Taelyn. Yes, sir."
Rising gracefully, slowly, I paused, turned 90 degrees, paused again, then soft-stepped my way to the kitchen. I found Taelyn's soda, opened it, wrapped it in a cloth napkin, and, with exaggerated good posture, made my way back to the living room, to the couch, where I again knelt. Holding the bottle, in the napkin, up toward the couch, I lowered my gaze.
