The Real Stepford Wives
Brown Sugar
by  Sarah Barndt

	I was once a normal, heterosexual male. That is, I was until I happened
upon the town of Stepford. I was spending a few weeks there, installing some
equipment at Stepford Pharmaceutical Labs, for the company I worked for. I had
recently broken up with my fiancee and was glad to be back on the road as a
working engineer. I enjoyed it, but Stepford was odd. All of the men wanted to
ask me about my sex life when I visited 'the club.' All of the women were
beautiful and intelligent, yet they were very old-fashioned in the way they
behaved. They were totally subservient and attentive to their men. They alone
cooked, cleaned, took care of the kids, etc. They also looked and dressed like
models, and apparently, were sensational lovers. All of the men belonged to the
MEN'S CLUB, and all of the women belonged to the LADY'S CULTURAL
SOCIETY, a building on the far side of the MEN'S CLUB grounds. What was
odd? It was too perfect. My curiosity was piqued. I decided to investigate the
building of the MEN'S CLUB. THAT was first my mistake.

	I slipped in after hours, using my pass key. Since the machines I was
installing were automated, I had access to the central computer network. I found
lots of information. All of it was astounding, but chilled me to the bone. It
turned out that all of the women in Stepford had once been men! The real men of
Stepford captured young men with the right physical characteristics and sexual
experience, then transformed them somehow into females. As former males,
they had an intimate knowledge of what pleased a man and how to satisfy his
fantasies and desires. The sudden shock of losing of their penises caused them
to become submissive and docile. You ended up with every man's fantasy; a
lady in the parlor, a chef in the kitchen, and a whore in the bedroom. I fell back
in my chair, too stunned to move at this shocking revelation, when a cloth
covered my mouth and nose. Chloroform! I struggled only briefly before losing
consciousness. When I awoke, I was strapped to a lab table - naked. I felt OK,
though there was a bandage on my abdomen. I turned at the sound of the door
opening. A doctor and two nurses came in. My voice was cracking as I told
them they couldn't turn me into a woman. The doctor only smiled and said that
he already had.

	I thought he was bluffing, but as he explained the process I knew he
wasn't lying. The bandage was from where they had implanted a female zygote
into my abdominal cavity. It would attach to my seminal vescicle, the part of a
male analogous to a uterus. There it would alter my RNA to that of the woman
who provided the egg. Over a short period of time, it would turn my male sex
organs into a uterus, ovaries and Fallopian tubes, while my new RNA would
alter every cell in my body until I had become - a female, a PREGNANT female.
I didn't feel right and realized it was already too late for me to escape this fate. I
asked how long I had left. He said I was already past the first stage. To
illustrate, he tugged on my chest hair. It came out easily. They wheeled a mirror
over. I could see now that I was slimmer and less muscular than before, with
almost no body hair and I had never seen my dick so pink, or limp, before. He
came over to me holding a very large syringe. "This is the second serum. It is
the final stage of your transformation," the doctor said too calmly. Nothing
happened at first, though I felt rather warm. Suddenly I screamed. My guts were
in agony! It felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing me from the inside. I
looked down and saw my stomach and abdomen rippling, then swelling and
contracting, as if something were crawling around inside me. The pain built until
I couldn't stand it anymore. A cry of pain and terror filled the room. As I
shrieked I could hear my voice getting higher. The pain lessened for a time, then
started to rip me apart, again. I writhed and moaned, alternating between a dull
throb and soul-searing agony, for several hours. From time to time I felt a
burning sensation on my chest. Mercifully it passed before my wish for a quick
death was granted. It was over; but what had I become. I looked in the mirror
and began to cry. My dick was gone, replaced by a - a cunt. I had even grown
tits! On my once flat chest were two small cones of flesh, like a young girls
budding breasts. I was still sobbing as they put my feet in stirrups and gave me
my first vaginal exam. I wanted to die as I felt my clitoris respond to his probe
by making my nipples hard. My new vagina made me feel vulnerable, and I
could see I now had a feminine triangle sprouting between softer, fleshier
thighs. While the doctor was probing my new plumbing the nurse tried to
comfort me. "Relax, sweety," she whispered. "You'll get used to it. We all did."
I thanked her in my new alto voice. They helped me up. I felt so - different. It
wasn't just my dick being gone, either. In spite of the fact that I had lost over 50
pounds, I felt plumper, and somewhat bottom-heavy. Yet, I was thinner, less
muscular, and shorter than ever. I must have lost 6 inches in height, and my feet
were almost tiny. I clenched my arms. My strength was gone. I now had the
scrawny biceps and shoulders of a woman. I had withered away to almost
nothing. The face was mine, but different. A woman's face; softer, rounder with
added fullness in the cheeks and lips. My hair was longer. I was pretty. Just as I
was regaining some composure the doctor said, "Take MISS Evans to the Ladies
Club and get her a room. Give her the usual training. Her wedding is in a
month." As I heard those words, I began to vomit. They  cleaned me up, then
gave me a robe, pink of course, to wear as we walked to the clubhouse. I
sobbed uncontrollably. They reminded me that I was not only female now, but
pregnant. "When you're knocked-up, there's nothing like having a man take care
of you," they said knowingly. "You may not think so now, but in a few months,
when you're big as a house, you'll appreciate the attention. Besides, the first one
is always the hardest." First? As in 'first of several', or - or m-many. Oh, dear. I
was getting queasy again. They assured me that I would actually be happy about
all this someday - while I was gagging. I chuckled sardonically. Isn't that what
they always say after something terrible has happened. But I had to be logical.
My dick was gone - forever. I had to face that. I was a woman, at least
physically, and in 9 months I was going to be somebody's mother. All of that
was unchangeable. The best thing I could do for my own sake was to not fight it
anymore. I decided to give in; to shave my legs and put on a dress. I didn't have
to like it, but I was determined to survive this. They could make me look like a
woman, but they could never make me think like a woman. Or so I thought.

	At the club, I was taken to the beauty salon. There, I was given a perm,
manicure, pedicure, facial and make-up instruction. They had me shave my own
legs and underarms - and bikini line. I watched all this detached from myself, as
if I were an observer as, little by little, I was turned into an attractive young
woman, Laura, my new name. Lastly, they gave me some diamond earrings,
pierced, a gift from Carl Jennings, my fiancee. I yelped as the studs entered my
lobes, though it really didn't hurt. Next, it was time to dress me.

	The room looked like a 'Victoria's Secret' catalog. They selected a white
lace bikini panty for me. It felt so odd as it slid up my now smooth legs and over
my - empty - crotch. The tape went around my sunken chest before I knew what
was happening. 32AA. My hands were trembling as I slid the bra up my arms. I
was putting this on because I needed one. And would need one for the rest of
my life. sss I sucked in a breath as my girlish boobs settled into the cups and the
clasp was fastened. uuu It felt like a harness. I didn't like it at all. I heard the
nurses gossiping. "Remember when we were that size?" one said, enviously.
"Yes, I do. Let her enjoy it while she can. By the time she's through nursing her
first kid, she'll be as big as the rest of us." I looked at them carefully. Oh, my! I
hadn't really noticed before, I was so worried about my mutation, but they were
quite full-figured! I looked down at my chest. I could feel the slight sensation of
weight that was still so unfamiliar. I tried to imagine what they would look like
in a few months when I was - like them, a buxom housewife. I couldn't.

	I spent the next weeks learning how to be a lady. Classes were run by
various women of the town. As I looked at these thoroughly feminine creatures,
all of them mothers, some several times, I couldn't believe that they had once
been men - like me. Or rather, like I used to be. Each night as I put on my lacy,
babydoll nighty I saw that I had become more like them. I hardly knew myself
anymore, I was becoming so emotional. I could laugh or cry at the drop of a hat.
I wore high heels all the time.  My ankles hurt. I spent hours with books on my
head, learning how to walk gracefully. They taught me how to cook, knit and
sew. I studied fashion magazines like they were text books. The 'hygiene' class
was disgusting, but I did find it useful. I had an exercise class every day where
we would do the 'bust cheer'; 'we must! we must! we must increase our bust!'
You know the one. It must work. My bumps were like mosquito bites compared
to the melons on these women. In my snug leotard the full extent of my
transformation was apparent; slim waist, rounded butt and totally smooth crotch,
but I was getting morning sickness. Some of the women in the class were
pregnant, too, but I was the only 'newgirl'.  I watched their swollen bellies with
fascination as we did our pelvic thrusts. "Do it, ladies," the instructor said. "It
will keep you tight as a virgin." The other women laughed at that. I felt ill, as all
the implications of that statement sunk in. The hardest part for me was seeing
nude women. I didn't, or couldn't, get aroused  and I was finding it easier and
easier to undress in front them. Before I knew it, I just didn't care anymore.
Now, I started to compare their figures to mine. Which, by the way, was
improving daily.

	My new hormones were causing me to 'fill out'. My breasts grew fuller
and rounder, as did my hips and buttocks. My legs added flesh and were
becoming quite shapely. My skin felt like a baby's behind. I ran my slender
hands over my widening hips, then down my still flat stomach. This new body
was burying the old me under girlish layers of fat. Each added ounce or inch
seemed to bring more straps and elastic into my wardrobe. The fine growth on
my pussy had thickened into a furry bush. I had to start trimming it or it would
show through the leg holes of my panties. I couldn't believe how vain I was
getting. In two weeks, I was up to a 34A bra. My breasts steadily increasing
weight was making me more aware of them. I could now feel them whenever I
moved. It was a bit disquieting. In spite of my small size, I was feeling busty,
though the most interesting change was the way my nipples were growing. The
little pink nipples of two weeks ago were now doubled in size and scarlet red. I
placed the palms of my hands on them and made slow circles. oooo That felt
nice. I could feel my pussy tingling. I put one hand between my legs. oooo
OOOO UUUUUU. I had my first orgasm - as a woman.

	I'll never forget my first 'Wednesday Afternoon Tea.' It is a ritual at the
Ladies Club. Each Wednesday, from 1pm to 4pm, the doors are locked and the
curtains are drawn. Tables of food and drink are arranged throughout the
building. All of the ladies of Stepford gather to mingle and gossip - stark naked
except for make-up and high heels. I wandered around the rooms myself, naked
as well, surprised, and definitely aroused, by all the sex that was going on. My
slim figure made me easy to identify as the 'newgirl', as the other women's
figures ranged from voluptuous to matronly. Pregnant women were also
involved and they gathered around me, telling me how 'great it will be',
'fulfilling' or my favorite, 'It's true. We really are happiest this way.' This was
from a 32 year old mother of 4, who used to play quarterback for Purdue, (her
husband loved football and wanted a wife who could share his enthusiasm) and
now appeared to be in her 4th month. She was so round and - RIPE - it was
getting me hot. She, Ailleen, noticed and took me aside. I had never kissed a
pregnant woman before, and certainly not AS a woman. Our bare breasts
rubbing together was new and exciting. I could feel myself getting wet as I
rubbed her big belly and fondled her bloated tits. "oops. I'm leaking," she said
as a drop of milk dribbled from her breast. " darn. I'm starting sooner with each
kid." she said to herself. I took her swollen teat into my mouth. "Careful, Laura.
I love what you're doing, but you're pregnant, too. This could start YOUR milk
if you take too much." I paused momentarily, but continued to suckle. It tasted
sooo good.

	By the end of the month I had a woman's figure; 36B-24-38. In a few
days I would become Mrs. Carl Jennings. I found myself staring at my
engagement ring for hours. I would use a mirror to examine my new pussy lips.
It was hard to believe that a baby could squirt out of there. But it WOULD. I
was really a woman and soon I would be a wife. The idea of spreading my legs
for a man still made my skin crawl, but everyone said it was wonderful.
Besides, I wasn't equipped to fuck anymore. All I could do was lay back and be
fucked. They were giving me a bridal shower during 'afternoon tea'. Ailleen
was their, of course, as we had become close this past month. I adored sucking
her fat, leaking tits, even though it seemed to be putting a few pounds on me.
When I was shopping the other day, I found I had gone up a dress size, from a 6
to an 8. Besides the sex, we really got along well, so I asked her to be matron-
of-honor. In fact, my future husband had bought the house next to her's. We
were going to be neighbors! It was somewhat Felliniesque, 30 or so naked
women, drinking too much wine, and making all of the usual pre-honeymoon
jokes. I had thought only men did that. I was learning a lot.

	The wedding was a simple affair on the club grounds. I had met Carl
weeks before, when I was still a man. I hadn't noticed how good looking he
was - then. I wondered why such a handsome black man would want a white
wife. Now, I was seeing him as my life-mate, the father of my child (children?)
and the man who was going to deflower me. I was frightened and excited about
what was to come. That night, for the first time, I felt the weight of a man upon
me. I was so scared! I parted my legs, so he could mount me. His hard, thick
cock was pressed against my wet, willing cunt. What they say about black men
is true! He was huge! He moved his hips forward. SSSSSSSS My hymen tore!
I was no longer a virgin. UUU He was FILLING me. Deeper and deeper it slid
in. AAAAA He was splitting me like a melon! I was swooning; drifting in and
out of reality as my brain was flooded by new - by new - ooooo Wonderful
sensations! I could feel his cock taming. Each thrust fucking the last of my
maleness, my independence, away. I was turning into a helpless, docile female
and loving every minute of it. "OOO I love it. uuuu I love you. SSSS I want to
be your wife," I breathed out as he was pumping into me. I wrapped my legs
around him, kissed his neck and told how good he felt. He liked that. I knew he
would. We erupted together. OOO The girls were right. It was so much
BETTER now. That night, I must have caught a bad case of hot pants because
after a few days of this - well - I couldn't stop spreading my legs! I returned
home with that 'glow'.

	My life changed so much. I would arise early so I could shower and
pamper myself. I'd always wear a dress and high heels (and my personal touch,
June Cleaver pearls) no matter what I was planning that day. I'ld cook my man a
hearty breakfast then do the housework.  I actually enjoyed cooking and
cleaning! The simplicity of this life was a welcome change for me after the 'cut
throat' corporate life. I would shop or go out to lunch with Ailleen, or one of the
other women. We would gossip like hens at the hair dressers. As the months
passed I progressed through a series of hair styles as my locks grew longer and
longer. Carl wanted me to let my hair grow out completely. I was looking
forward to becoming a modern Lady Godiva for him. I joined a community
service club. I really worked at being a good wife and a credit to my man.
Nothing made me prouder than to be called MRS. Jennings. We would go to
dinner at the club and dance later. I had some trouble at first because I wouldn't
follow his lead, but quickly adapted. I enjoyed walking down the street in a
smart outfit and feeling men's eyes roving all over me, especially my legs,
which were very shapely. Like the other women of Stepford, I would wear a hat
and gloves. Regular visits to my gynecologist were, of course, necessary. I
could tell I was becoming more of a female because the stirrups no longer
bothered me, but the scale did. Each week I winced as the nurse recorded my
expanding figure. I went to 'the club' daily, for my exercise classes, as well as
LaMaze and LeLeche Society meetings. Naturally, I NEVER missed 'afternoon
tea', but I would always meet Carl at the door, when he came home from the
office, in sexy lingerie, and we would make love all over the house. Carl would
bring flowers or candy. Once he brought me a bracelet. I had never been
interested in flowers or other stuff like that, but now it made me feel so - so
special when he brought me presents. I ALWAYS wept happily. In only a few
weeks, his kind attentions, and his cock, had turned me into a contented
housewife. Then, the 'titty fairy' came.

	I had been feeling some tightness around my waist lately. In fact, I
occasionally had to undo a button after eating. I would examine my figure after
my morning  shower. My waist was definitely thickening. I found I tired easily,
so I napped more. Then one morning I awoke to find my body changed. My
breasts had grown considerably. I found out later, a whole cup size to 38C. My
nipples had turned brown and small bumps ringed my aureole. I dark line ran
from my pubis to my navel, and when I turned sideways, a noticeable bulge was
visible. I hefted my heavier (and slightly sagging) boobs. I ran my slim hands
over my new roundness. I LOOKED pregnant! I had a belly! I immediately got
into maternity clothes, though they hid my new bulges. I was so proud. That
afternoon, Ailleen and I were sunning by the pool. I had decided to wear a two
piece suit to show off my new belly. She rubbed my roundness then asked, "So
tell me. How do you like having big tits." I looked down. My boobs had spilled
out of the cups! We both giggled.

	However, in the weeks that followed I began to notice other changes
which did not seem related to my pregnancy. My nipples grew larger and much
darker, almost black and some of the surrounding skin was darker, too. My
panties had gotten unbearably tight lately. As a man I had had a small butt. Now
I was turning into a 'wide load'. I took them off and examined my widening
figure. I seemed to be getting a tan and there was a definite darkening around my
vulva. One day I noticed black, very curly hair on my pubis. Suddenly I
understood! The baby had a black father - and mother! I was turning into a black
woman! After becoming a woman, turning black wasn't hard to handle. It was
actually a relief. I had wondered how I would handle a mixed marriage. Now I
wouldn't have to. My only worry was that each step of my transformation, from
male to female, to pregnant, to black was making my ass bigger. I showed Carl
the new hair when he came home. He was pleased with my attitude. The next
day I shaved my cunt bald then went to the beauty parlor and had my hair dyed
black and given a very tight perm. The new Afro hairdo changed my looks. I
already seemed, at least, partly black. I had changed more than I realized and
could now see that my lips were fuller, my nose broader and my eyes were more
almond-shaped. On the way home, I had the radio on a black station. Carl came
home that night to find me in a leopard print bikini and adorned in African
jewelry, doing a fertility dance to Swahili drum music. I had never seen his cock
so big - or hard. We screwed all over the house. At his suggestion, I began to
sunbath nude so as to accelerate the darkening of my skin. The sun felt good as I
laid on a chaise lounge reading EBONY. It worked. We both rejoiced as I grew
browner and browner by the day. Less than a month later I had darkened to a
lovely mocha complexion. Now I used cosmetics for African women. I loved
my ever more exotic looks and was really looking forward to becoming a dark,
sultry Nubian beauty. I liked wearing traditional African dresses around the
house because they showed off my nice, round belly - and my big booty. Over
the last few weeks my ass had grown incredibly full and round and protruding.
Carl loved it, of course.

	My pregnancy progressed smoothly and I began to fill out my maternity
dresses. My belly pushed out farther and farther as did my buttocks and hips. I
got a few stretch marks but I didn't care.  They were badges of honor to me; a
symbol of my fruitfulness, and impending motherhood, and I loved the way
Carl would rub soothing lotions on my belly. When I first felt the baby kick, I
cried for joy. Ailleen and I continued our sex play, even though both of our
bellies were getting so big that some positions were now uncomfortable. My
suckling continued as well. It seemed to nourish me, ripening my figure into a
true female form. Carl loved my now large butt and pendulous breasts. He called
me 'his little mammy'. I liked that. However, as Ailleen had warned, nursing
effected me. I awoke on night because my boobs were throbbing. I staggered to
the bathroom. As the light came on I gasped. My breasts had grown some more,
maybe a D cup. They looked - fat, and bloated. And .... a wet strain was
radiating from each engorged nipple. I pulled down the bodice of my nighty.
Oh! I was only in my 6th month, but I was already lactating! Hands shaking, I
removed my nighty and applied the breast pump. SSSSS It hurt as my milk
began to flow, but soon, it felt kind of nice. In fact, I got wet. Just as I was
finishing, I noticed Carl's reflection in the mirror. "Well," he said appreciatively
as his hands hefted my boobs, making them and most of my upper body jiggle,
"You're really my little heifer, now. Come to bed, woman. You need some
lovin'." I followed willingly. With my hands bracing my back, I waddled back
to bed. He was right. I was a heifer; a cow; little more than a farm animal, ruled
by my hormones and consumed by the demands of sex and breeding. I had
changed so much. I thought of myself as a female now. A breeder. Which I
was. My fattened bosom swayed gently as I got on my hands and knees and
placed a pillow under my belly. I sighed lustily as his hard prick slid into me.
OOO I wanted it so bad. His hands roamed all over my ripe curves as he fucked
me, my big, fat ass and thighs jiggling as my boobs slapped together. "You like
being knocked up, don't you," he grunted between thrusts. I panted that all I
wanted anymore was to be his wife and have his kids. "That's good. Because I
intend to keep you this way for a while." My cunt gripped him like a fist as I
orgasmed and two wet stains marked the sheets under my tits.

	Carl pampered me even more during my last trimester. As the ladies
predicted, I was now as big as a house and I did appreciate his sweet attention. I
had continued to darken and was now a light chocolate with very full lips and
black woman's butt. I often cradled my belly as I waddled around the house. My
nursing bra gave welcome support to my sore boobs. I had to drain myself 2 or
3 times a day. Fortunately, I had Carl and Ailleen to assist. At exercise class, I
had to do a more limited work out. In my leotard it was obvious that the slim
bride of 8 months ago had become a pear-shaped, bosomy matron. My hips
stick way out to the sides and my butt looked like I had two basketballs in my
panties. Though I was happy that my hair had grown enough to get it braided
into dredlocks. Ailleen was in the class, too. She had delivered almost 3 months
ago and nearly had her figure back already. I had hoped I would be as lucky, but
I was so hugely pregnant I would have settled for being able to see my feet. Our
love making was still nice, though I was too big to do much more than lay back
and let her lick my thickly haired pussy or suck my fat, brown tits.

	I hadn't slept well in several days, my belly was just too large for me to
find a comfortable position. I was staring at the ceiling when I felt - it. It was
just a slight twinge that seemed to come from inside me. Twenty minutes later, I
felt it again, then 20 minutes after that! It was happening! I was going into labor!
A few hours later I was in the delivery room, my feet in stirrups, my fat breasts
splayed out and pressing against my fleshy upper arm. My hair was soaked in
sweat, my face grimaced in pain. It felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing me
from the inside. AAAAAAA I bore down. I could feel my - baby being pushed
out! It wouldn't be too much longer. The contraction passed and I rested up for
the next one. Carl was there, holding my hand. I loved him so much. In
Stepford, all first deliveries were by natural method, no drugs. I could
understand why now. Labor was a fire that was burning away my old memories
and refining me into a pure WOMAN! One last push UUU UUUUUUUU She
was out! I had a daughter! Tears of joy mixed with the sweat as she was bathed,
swaddled then given to me to hold. I looked adoringly at my husband. "Do you
like her?" I asked plaintively. "Of course," He replied. "I love her nearly as
much as I love her mother." I felt - complete.

	The first time Kaneesha took my breast I was so happy and excited! I
was nourishing my baby from my own body. Since I was nursing, I had to do
all the feedings, of course. It was tiring, but I had never been happier. In a few
weeks, I was back at my exercise class trying to get my belly down to a more
normal size, though my ass stayed really big. I was definitely a black woman
now. The best I could do was to firm it up. I had once hoped to end up looking
like Iman. My face looks a bit like her, but I seem to resemble a younger, darker
version of Jayne Kennedy. Hours on the lifecycle and hundreds of sit ups were
starting to get positive results, but pregnancy changes a woman. I would never
be slim and girlish again, and I didn't mind at all. I was now chocolate skinned
and was planning to take drugs to get even darker now that I had given birth.

	Tonight is our first wedding anniversary and the second time I have left
Kaneesha alone. Carl has been teasing about how many times I have called
Ailleen already. I can't help it. I'm a mother. "You look great, honey,"Carl
complimented. "you look like you've lost all the baby weight." I felt so proud. I
had lost all but 6 pounds, and frankly, it felt like all of those last 6 were in my
tits - or my ass! , but I was still nursing. My stomach was firm again, though it
had a slight roundness now that I would keep for the rest of my life, and my
waist was a bit thicker than before. But I was a shapely size 10 and I was getting
'those looks' from men. I am, at last, a true Nubian beauty. I like that. My
complexion is a very dark chocolate, my lips are full, my eyes are almond-
shaped and very exotic. My  nappy Afro is shorter now, but it is all my own
natural hair. No more dyes or perms. My white cocktail dress is snug around my
full, heavy bosom and big, firm ass. I am a lot of woman and I've learned how
to keep my man happy. In bed I am a lioness; wild, strong and lusty. We were
having a night of dinner and dancing in the "CITY ROOM" at the men's club. It
was the only room in the place where women were allowed. I saw men, men
who looked a lot like I used to look only one year ago, going past the oaken
doors into the 'members only' rooms. Occasionally I was tired of cooking and
cleaning and taking care of the baby, and I envied them their freedom, but then I
would think about how it felt when Kaneesha suckled, and I would forget my
envy and look forward to having another baby. Carl and I were 'trying', as
married people say. Tonight as I was in the ladies room, changing my tampon,
(yes, I menstruated now) I became curious as to what went on behind those
doors, and thought about sneaking a peek. As I looked past my dark brown 40D
milk swollen, bosom, at my hands inserting a tampon into my wooly vaginal
lips, I giggled and thought to myself "No way! I'm not going through that
again!"