’ I calmly returned to my weaving, ignoring you. Now I’m not the only one pissed: you grunted again, determined to get my attention, but your ange... had escalated. I didn’t even look up, just carried on weaving as if nothing else mattered. You were so distracted by trying to communicate with me that you didn’t notice my little fabric I had woven slip over your balls – but, fuck!, you did notice as I pulled it tight and squeezed until your balls tried to burst through the holes in my woven. " That thought made it very easy for him to appear upset. Itreminded him just how much he had been feminized and what it would feellike to have someone else from outside the house see him. As his facewas made over by worry, the artist's hand began to move, to bring theimage to life. She liked the way his shoulders sloped down a bit withdefeat. He was in that perfect state of being girled up against hiswill, partly resigned to it but still desperate to return to his maleidentity. She. More

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