The Club

We were heading to a meeting of the Super Perfect Husband Club and my wife, Vivian, seemed nervous.

By way of background, I am one of 12 founding members of the Club. We formed it three months ago after Carl, who was and is friends with all of us, reached out to each of us and asked us to participate in an intervention. He had learned, from an unimpeachable source, that his wife was cheating with multiple partners. He didn't want a divorce. He wanted an apology and an iron-clad promise of fidelity. He confessed to us that he hoped for some grovelling on her part and maybe a permanent shift in the power structure of their marriage. Carl, to be honest, was a little whipped. In his defense, Anita, his wife, is pretty scary. She's a successful trial lawyer who seems to know everything. When she made fun of someone, they often didn't know it until the next day. I say this from experience, and my experience was shared with several of the other husbands with whom Carl planned the intervention. We all rooted him on when he talked of keeping her on a short leash. In truth, I was looking forward to the event that Carl was meticulously staging. Carl worked in theatre and planned to confront Anita on the set of the production currently employing him.

On the night of the big event, we got to the theatre at 6, an hour before Anita was to join Carl for a special private tour. We all took our seats on the long side of a large table that faced the audience. Our role was not to say anything specific, but only to provide emotional support to Carl - especially if Anita started to bully him.

The curtain was shut and only Carl was visible to Anita as she walked down the central aisle of the auditorium. "I'm a little excited by all this.", she opened in a pleasant tone.

He came back strong, "I think you'd better be quiet and listen to what I have to say." I was feeling good about his prospects. I'd never heard him speak to her with such *****.

She seemed unphased. "And what do you have to say?", she intoned in the same way. He seemed a little put off by her demeanour, and he decided to unveil his surprise. He pressed a button which opened the curtain, revealing us all. "Is this meant to be the Last Supper?", she asked with a smile.

Her nonchalance flustered Carl, whose voice lost its prior *****. "I know it all." He spoke to her but he could not hold her gaze. "We...", he furtively scanned us for support. "We know it all". "That's right.", Roger joined in. Roger was a work mate of Carl's that I had never met. "We know!" We and he were surprised at how loud his voice was.

Anita's demeanour flipped on a dime. She strode toward the stage with ferocity. "How dare you shout at me?"; her rage was palpable. "I'm sorry", he said, "but ". She cut him off, "You don't get to speak again tonight." His eyes widened. She continued, "If I don't get a better apology, you might never get to speak with me again." His mouth continued to move but emitted no sound. "That's better", she said, and was smiling again.

She looked at me. "What do you know?", she asked. I kept my voice level, but I was no longer confident that Carl would get a good result, "I know that you cheated on Carl." Her voice was pleasant again as she interrogated me, "Oh, you know that do you?" Her full attention was on me, "Where did this happen? When was the first time? When was the most recent time? When was any time?" Now it was my turn to move my mouth silently. She scanned our group, "Any of you?"

"Carl", Anita fixed her eyes on her husband. "I knew you weren't going to be a perfect husband. I did think you'd be a good husband, though. You were an Eagle Scout, for God's sake. I expected you to have some virtues. Most of all, I needed you to have the one crucial virtue that could make our marriage work. I needed you to be loyal." For a moment, she paused with genuine sadness. "You couldn't even do that. You chose to believe some jerk who doesn't like either of us rather than just be loyal to your wife. I guess I have to rethink our relationship."

"Please don't do that", Carl pleaded. "I made a mistake. I should just have been loyal. I'll never not trust you again."

"I don't know", mused Anita. She seemed to be having an argument with herself.

Tall Mike, who was sitting next to me, weighed in, "He really loves you."

That broke her reveries. "I almost forgot about all of you. I guess I should reveal my surprise."

Without her doing anything, two entrance doors pushed open and the wives of every man on stage streamed into the auditorium and walked deliberately toward the stage. When they stopped, they stared at us for what felt like minutes but was only, I found out later, six seconds.

I tried to break the tension. "I think this is a misunderstanding. Maybe we should all just go home and let Anita and Carl handle this.

Vivian glared at me, "Oh, because your little witch trial didn't work out, you'd like a do-over? I've never been so ashamed in my life. You've made disloyalty, which destroys marriages, into a group activity."

I was scared at this point. I'd never seen her this angry.

"All of you are disloyal. None of you is a good husband.", added a woman who I'd never met but who turned out to be married to other Mike.

Carl was in tears at this point. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it. I'll be a good husband, a loyal husband for the rest of my life."

Anita looked thoughtful. "I don't think that's enough anymore. Being a good husband was enough, but it just isn't anymore. You have to be a perfect husband, a super perfect husband."

"I will!", sobbed Carl.

Other Mike's wife, who I later found out was named Martha, chimed in. "You all do."

I was about to protest. It seemed to me that Carl should face greater repercussions than the rest of us. "I...", I began, before Vivian's withering glance gave me pause.

"I think that's a good idea." For the first time, Vivian's face softened. I guess others were having similar interactions, because everyone agreed with at least some enthusiasm.

"Since it is time for the soon to be super perfect husbands to listen, we should have those chairs." Anita did not make that sound like a question, so we filed off stage and into the front row seats. Our wives took our places at the table. Anita assumed the role of Chairperson and asked if any of the wives wanted to make any opening remarks. Roger's wife, Natalie, eagerly asked if she could talk.

She began, "Something Anita said resonated with me. She talked about the virtues of a Boy Scout. Maybe we can start with those?"

That suggestion met instant acclaim. Anita leaned forward and asked Carl, "What are the Boy Scout virtues again?"

"The Law", answered Carl. "It's called the Law."

Vivian weighed in, "I like that even better, but wait a second before you tell us." She fished something out of her handbag. "Come here honey", she said sweetly to me. I approached the stage where my face was at the level of her knees. She tossed a notebook to where I could reach it. "I've just promoted you to Secretary of the Super Perfect Husbands Club". A few of the other wives chuckled. "Go ahead, Carl"

Carl recited from rote. "A scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent."

"I like that. I think that a husband who was all of those things would be pretty super perfect. Ladies?", offered Anita. A cheer broke out. "Do any of the boys disagree?" A much more muted assent came from the audience.

The rest of what was the first meeting of the Club covered two topics. The first was the set of organisational details that I was charged to put into by-laws. Husbands are required to attend all semi-weekly meetings. One wife per month would act as the Chair and sole voting member for that month. She would attend the first and third meetings of the month. At the first meeting, she would choose the Law for the month and review progress and performance on past months' laws. She would make clear what problems needed to be solved to improve adherence to the law she had chosen. When she returned for the third meeting, the club was expected to present her with an action plan that she could either endorse or replace. The rest of the meetings would be led by the husband of that month's chair as her proxy. They would be focused on putting the plan into effect so that tangible progress could be demonstrated by the end of the month.

The other topic for that first meeting was loyalty, unsurprisingly chosen as the law of the club's first month. It was fascinating just being a spectator. Vivian, a doctor, is significantly smarter than me. I've already discussed Anita's smarts. As the conversation continued; dipping into history, philosophy, biochemistry, and religion; I came to believe that the least intelligent woman on the stage was smarter than the most intelligent of their husbands. What they concluded is that loyalty must be blind to be loyalty. A perfect husband may not ask a wife anything about any negative comment made about her. He furthermore was required to make clear his blind loyalty to anyone speaking ill of his wife.

As a side note, I did not believe that this law would have any impact on my life. Less than two weeks later, a delivery guy visiting the print shop where I work asked me if he could tell me something about my wife. I told him that, if there was anything that was not glowingly positive, no he couldn't tell me. He gave me a funny look and left.

As we were driving home from the first meeting, I asked Vivian if she would be OK losing me so many nights. She said it would be hard, but she would find things to do. Moreover, the rewards of having a perfect husband certainly justified a few sacrifices.

Tonight was the first meeting of March. As we drove, I tried to get some clues as to what she was going to address. In addition to loyalty, we had also handled friendliness, cleanliness, and helpfulness. Helpfulness was and is hard. We committed to all husbands doing more than half the chores with our wives handling the assignments. I noticed that I seem to constantly be doing chores and she seems to be mostly relaxing. She pointed out that she could handle her chores when I was at my meetings. Cleanliness, also takes time. We adopted a pretty serious commitment to hygiene. Vivian loves it. She says I look better and smell much better. I was grateful for the work we did on Friendliness. Natalie led it and opened with a story of how Roger was almost belligerent with one of her male friends and embarrassed her terribly. We concluded that month that a perfect husband is friendly to all of his wife's friends and may not ask questions about any of them. After I wheedled her for the half hour drive, she finally let me know that she was going to address kindness.

We settled in for the start of the meeting. We now had access through Martha's real estate company to an auditorium to which we had unlimited access and which served as our clubhouse. The Chair's husband was responsible for snacks for the whole month, so my free time was going to be further reduced in March. I had made finger sandwiches and was eating one when Vivian put me on the spot. "I'm going to need Greg to come up here and take off his pants and underwear. I think it would be cuter if he also took off his shoes and socks, so I want him to do that also.

Her request was not unprecedented. We had all been naked together during our discussions on cleanliness; a big part of that month's project was the laser removal of all pubic hair and armpit hair. It was different that I would be the only one naked. She asked me to get myself hard, and that was not difficult. She pulled out a soft measuring tape and measured the top of my erection. She asked the group how large they thought the average penis is. Answers centred around six inches. Vivian said, "Boys, that is simply not accurate." She had spent some time reading up on the topic and concluded that size is overestimated for two reasons: The first is that porn movies use giant fake penises to create an effect. The second is that most men, when they measure themselves, measure from their sphincter to their penis tip. The correct method is to measure the top (or dorsal) from stomach to tip. Measuring correctly yielded a size of 4.25". She said that was actually a large penis - in fact, too large. This is where kindness comes in. Is it kind to insert a 4+ inch cylinder into a hole that is designed for a 3.75" average length object. What's more, I used to be even larger. When we married, I was a freakishly large 5.75". She had had conversations with all of the wives about this and all wished that their husbands could be a little smaller. It would, she said, be the kind thing to do. Other Mike interrupted, "I don't think that is even possible." She said, "Oh Mike, I spoke to Martha. She told me that she thinks you might be 6 inches long. I assured her that I could help. I never told Greg this, but I took matters into my own hands. It really just took two compounds, and one of them, surprisingly, was testosterone. If you all begin to take testosterone shots, eventually your testicles will stop producing it. That will cause your balls to shrink. You can take spironalactone as well. It will counteract the testosterone and cause your penis to shrink. You will have a nice steady and balanced diminution to a size that is not just cuter but that will also be kinder to insert into her. I'm going to stop now. I know I've given you a lot to think about. We have gone over time and, if you are like Greg, you have a lot of chores to do. I can't wait to come back next week and hear your plan.

Vivian and I shared a quiet ride home. When we got there, she asked me to add laundry to my chore list.

good story

Nice. Thanks. I'll post another chapter soon.

I was in a hurry, but that seemed to be my constant state of being these days. While I didn't want to be late for the meeting, I knew that Vivian's delicates wouldn't be appropriately dry for the morning if I didn't get them started before I left. Damp panties was not something she ever wanted to associate with me. She had made that clear during my laundry lesson. While she had an amused smile while she explained that, I did not want to let her down on something she had so pointedly specified.

My heart sank a little when I made it upstairs to leave. Vivian was entertaining. I knew I had to make a friendly appearance; I only hoped that it might be brief and that traffic wasn't bad.

I approached them in the living room where Vivian was laughing at something I hadn't heard and distractedly playing with her hair.

"Good evening", I said, with as warm a smile as I could pull together. "How is everyone doing tonight?"

"We are doing just fine tonight, sweetie. This is Mr. Murtaugh.", Vivian offered.

Vivian's guest arose. He towered over me; I reached out to shake his hand. Vivian's formal introduction furthered my inclination to demonstrate my best behaviour. I assumed this must be a work meeting. "It is very nice to meet you, Mr. Murtaugh."

He looked down at me expectantly. "It is nice to meet you too..."

"Steven, this is my husband. I mentioned Greg to you", Vivian started to giggle.

"Greg, of course, yes." His hand enveloped mine and clasped with crushing strength. Vivian continued to giggle.

"I'm sorry, Greg. Steven was just telling me the funniest story.", Vivian gasped through her giggles.

"Can I hear it? I'd love a laugh", My smile became friendlier as the ***** returned to my hand.

"Oh, sweetie", she chided. "You don't want to be late. It would disappoint the rest of the boys. You will have more opportunities to speak to Mr. Murtaugh."

He looked at me. "If I have my way, I'll be here a lot."

I smiled. "That's great. I look forward to seeing you again. Vivian's right, though. I need to run. "

Everyone else had beaten me to the clubhouse, but everyone understood the obligations of friendliness. I really had no choice but to extend a warm welcome to Vivian's guest. I got the sense that more than one of my compatriots had faced similar challenges since we began the club. A sense of camaraderie washed over me like a warm wave. All of my fellow members were struggling with extra chores, more time consuming ablutions, and a growing list of rules that needed to be constantly remembered.

I walked to the head of the table and sat where I would act as Vivian's proxy. "I call this meeting to order. Since I am acting as Chair, I have asked Lenny to serve as Secretary in my stead. Mr Secretary, do we have a quorum?"

Lenny replied sardonically, "Since we are all here, I think that's a 'duh". A few members chortled.

We spent the next 90 minutes discussing the difficulties of the first three laws. Roger noted that there were plenty of tips on the internet for both personal care and household chores. Though he was an avid sports fan, he found himself reading through the latest issue of Good Housekeeping while he watched games. "I can sort of keep up with the action, but I missed a goal when I found a trick for storing potatoes and onions in panty hose that was past its useful life." We had a full agenda, but we all had to admit the utility of the panty hose idea.

We came finally to the main topic of the meeting. I tried to cut to the chase: "We all measured last week, and we all know how much we have to reduce to meet our goals. Vivian has put together the compounds and dosages for each of us, and I emailed out a link to ReliableRX where the meds can be ordered online. Unless someone has a problem or a better idea, we can present this as our plan at our next meeting."

"I have some issues", rejoined Other Mike. "I'm not sure Vivian has our facts straight. I don't feel huge; I'm pretty sure I'm average, maybe even smaller than average. Natalie was not the first woman I had sex with, and those before her did not seem intimidated by my equipment. Some of them did not want to repeat the experience with me. Half the time I'm penetrating Natalie she'll look bored. The other half, she's using her phone to shop or text."

Chuck weighed in, "I agree with Mike. This is a big decision, and we need to think it through. I'm pretty sure I've seen dicks a lot bigger than my 4 inches. I can't believe that porn movies are all fakes. Those guys are huge and they look real."

"Do you believe in blue giants because you've seen Avatar?", I retorted. I thought those special effects were a lot more realistic than porn dicks are."

"I guess", said Mike. "But what about the penises we've seen in person?"

"Well, I think if you really look back, you'll realise that you haven't seen that many erect penises in your life. I think that all of those I have seen belonged to you guys, and I only saw them last week", I responded. "What I saw pretty much supported what Vivian said. She very seldom gets her facts wrong."

"In the locker room, I regularly see guys who are much bigger", Chuck threw out. I think I'm one of the smaller guys there."

"Those guys aren't erect, though. You are a grower; they are showers. When I'm flaccid, I'm less than an inch long. Even the kids look bigger than I do."

"I guess that's true", Chuck conceded.

Mike concurred, "I guess we should thank Vivian. Most of my life I felt barely adequate. I fell victim to fake news."

At the meeting the following week, Vivian seemed impressed with our plan (actually her plan). Her one amendment was that I should take a leadership role in the kindness law and work towards a length of 3.25 inches rather than the 3.75 inches that everyone else was targeting.

On the way home she apologised for not telling me about my special treatment within the group. I told her that I understood she was just doing what she could to encourage group success and that I would start the new dosage the following day. She pointed out that I had already been taking the new dosage for a week.

Any interest in this continuing?

Yes please dougie13 go on!

I agree. And I like the pic you posted
.
Submissive Cuckold - lives for many years in a female-led marriage with a cuckold lifestyle.

dougie13
Let me read how things go on!

so very good. excellent writing.

Cool. Thanks. I'll post the next chapter in the next few days.

hard to wait for the sequel dougie13!

On my way home from work on a Wednesday three weeks later, I was taking some joy in planning my week. To start with, Wednesday was the night that Vivian and I usually had sex. More than once, Vivian had commented that my chores seemed to get done better and faster on hump day (pun intended). She was right. Anticipation put a skip in my step. Thursday was the last club meeting of the month. We usually had a slim agenda and filled out the meeting with self-congratulatory musings and lighthearted banter. Friday we were hosting Vivian's medical school friend, Miriam, and her husband, Ben, for dinner. I was looking forward to grilling some steaks for Ben and me. Because Vivian is pescatarian, I am usually pescatarian too. Ben had made it clear before our first time hosting that he can't abide fish and was certainly not going to eat rabbit food. We had settled into a pattern of grilled steak for Ben and me and sous vide salmon for Vivian and Miriam. I was looking forward to buying the ingredients and some wine to accompany them. I was thinking to be a little bold in the wine choices - a cotes-du-rhone for the guys and a gruner-vetliner for the ladies. Outside of the sex, Friday would be the highlight of my week. Ben is a cool guy's guy and I felt cooler and a little macho even, just laughing at his off-color jokes. That brought my mind to Saturday. At the prior night's meeting Carl had asked us all to come to his house on Saturday to help put up a gazebo. I was hoping that Vivian would not support this idea. I told her about it and noted that it would cut into my ability to enjoy some wine on Friday as well as further reduce our time together. She promised to discuss it with Anita and others.

When I got home, I noticed that the massage table was set up. Putting that away was a chore that I didn't mind. It was I who had recommended that she move her weekly massage appointment to Wednesdays. Having her in a relaxed mood was good for everyone. Normally, I would come to find her in one of her silk robes and nothing else. I realise that I've never described her. To start with, she is tiny - 4'11" on her tippy toes. Her face is gorgeous and she combines sexy with cute in any proportions she chooses. Depending on how she dresses, she can look as old as 25 or as young as a teenager. She credits her youthful look to a vigorous skin regimen and a passionate aversion to sunlight. In her words, "Neotony blocks monotony". Her body is amazing: gravity defying breasts with mouthful sized areolas surrounding pencil eraser nipples. After years of self-criticality concerning her butt, even she had to admit that it had become a work of art. I had asked her for years to shave her own pubic hair, and she had recently started to wax of her own volition. She had smiled when I pointed out that I wished I had known that all I had to do was get rid of my own bush. When she wears my favourite robe, it looks as though her nipples are the only bulwark against the silk garment sliding off her smooth body.

I was surprised when I saw her. She was not only dressed, she was DRESSED. In a black leather miniskirt and a form-fitted top, she looked ready for a night of clubbing. Her favourite Laboutins completed the look.

"Afraid there's been a change in plans", she said in a resigned voice. "I have to go out tonight. I'm probably going to be out pretty late."

"OK, honey", I don't have much of a poker face, but I didn't want my disappointment to be too palpable.

"That doesn't mean I forgot about you, though", she offered consolingly.

"Should we go into the bedroom?", I asked hopefully.

"I don't want to mess up my outfit, but, if you're willing to try something a little kinky, I think we both might enjoy it.", her voice was soft and she looked up at me through half closed eyelids.

"You had me at kinky.", I grinned. She instructed me to put another towel on the massage table and to climb onto it naked.

"I'd instruct you to lie supine, but I'm pretty sure that will be your instinct. Your dick is still too big for you to comfortably lie on your stomach." She left the room. By the time she returned, I was lying on the massage table. I was fully erect. She had a small basket out of which she pulled a small bottle of oil and a soft measuring tape. "I want to measure Hugh G Rection, and I don't want you taking undeserved credit for shrinkage if you are just not fully hard."

I was pretty sure I was fully erect, because I was able to use my favourite self-pleasure grip: 2 fingers and my thumb. I like it because my pinky can tickle my scrotum and my thumb can sneak up and rub the pre-seminal fluid on the head of my member. After I assured her that I was fully turgid, she stretched the measuring tape from root to tip. "Take a look", she said triumphantly.

Sure enough, I no longer reached the 4 inch mark. "I'm so proud of you", she smiled serenely as she gently, almost distractedly, tickled my balls. "You will be a reasonable size in a month and a perfect size within a year". She then pulled an ice bag out and pressed it against my balls.

"What the!", I exhorted and I stopped touching myself.

"Keep going", she admonished. "This is something I only have to do because your balls are oversized. Soon we won't need to ice you smaller." I returned to gently stroking myself. "Please just use one finger and your thumb.", she requested. I complied, and she removed the ice pack.

My scrotum had shrunk and held my balls tight against my body. Vivian pressed her fingers against my balls until she pushed them into my abdomen. "Even six months ago, I wouldn't have been able to do this", she observed. First one of my balls and then the other popped back into my scrotum. "And in six more months your balls won't be able to do that. They'll stay in your tummy like good little pets. Until then..." She pushed them back into my abdomen and pulled my legs closer together. That ****** them to stay retracted. "Keep using those two fingers until you squirt", she instructed.

"Would you maybe let me see your boobs?" She looked disappointed. "I want you to shut your eyes", she responded. "Looking at you is my turn-on from this. I love how beautiful your dick is getting, and I love stroking your empty scrotum. I want your face to look totally innocent in repose. You don't want to deny me, do you?"

Of course I didn't. I was the one getting an orgasm, after all. I shut my eyes and tried to look as innocent as possible. As I stroked, I could feel the pressure building.

And then I erupted. Something about what she had done to my balls made me feel like they exploded in the ejaculation. My whole body shook. I felt like I was losing consciousness.

When I recovered and opened my eyes, she was giving me her quizzical look. "Was that nice?", she asked.

"That was more than nice", I exhaled. "That was amazing!"

"Spread your legs again so that your balls can pop out again", she said. I did, but my balls stayed retracted. "Oh, that's delightful", she offered. "That's how you should look all the time." My penis had shrunk to a wet little nub still pointing up over my smooth crotch.

"I have more news for you before I leave, and I also got you a present." She headed to the living room. I used tissues to wipe the ejaculate and started to head towards our room.

"Where are you going?", she asked.

"I'm just going to put some clothes on", I responded.

"You look fine", she retorted. "Just bring the towel with you and sit on that." I was somewhat surprised; we are not what anyone would call habitual nudists. In the aftermath of an earth shaking orgasm, however, I was not about to question her suggestions. "Don't be a prude; you look adorable. Besides, I'm excited to give you your present."

I spread out the towel and sat down; she handed me a good sized box wrapped in brightly coloured paper emblazoned with the phrase "Just because". I tore the paper open and looked at her dumbfounded.

"Well?", she asked expectantly.

"It's a Lego set", I responded.

"It's not just any Lego set. It's the deluxe Star Wars Millennium Falcon", she retorted.

"I've never done Lego", I offered.

"Well, now's your chance to make up for that", she said enthusiastically.

"Isn't it a little juvenile?", I asked quietly. I didn't want to upset her.

"No", she replied. A bunch of the male doctors at the hospital do them. They say it relaxes them but keeps them sharp. Look at the box. It says 13+. There's no upper limit."

I realised that I could tread no further. "Thank you, Honey. I love it."

"Really?", she asked. "I can take it back if you don't really like it."

"I really love it. I can't wait to build it. What's your other news?" I wanted to change the topic.

"Miriam and Ben aren't coming on Friday." She waited for my reaction.

"That's a shame", I said. "I was looking forward to it. What happened?"

"Well, I had lunch with Miriam yesterday, and...Greg, can I be totally honest with you?", she looked faintly anxious.

"Of course, Honey. I'm here for you", I tried to comfort her.

"It's all me, and it's totally irrational", she started.

"This is a safe place." Were I not naked, I would have tried to hug her.

"Since you started this program of self-improvement, I find myself increasingly intolerant of men who are not making the efforts you are. The only males I can stomach are you and the other members of the Club. I explained it all to Miriam and she is super impressed with you. She totally understands that Ben would throw off my vibe. She was a little jealous, frankly. Even before you started the Club, you were a lot nicer than Ben."

"I guess I can understand that", I said.

She continued, "I've invited Anita and Carl to come instead. Carl is eating vegetarian, so I said that we would all join him in that. I mentioned to Anita your concern about ******** before your Saturday project. She told me that she suggested to Carl that, since you aren't ********, he shouldn't ***** either."

I interrupted, "That's not exactly what I meant..."

She continued, "Carl said you were really smart. It's a bad idea to ***** the night before you use power tools. Once I heard that, I said that neither of you would *****, definitely."

I could not think of any way to challenge this.

She went on, "You also didn't tell me the whole story about Saturday. I thought it was a one-time thing. I think it's a great idea for you all to get together every Saturday and do projects at all of our houses. I can finally get those flower beds you promised me."

"I don't think I knew that it would be an every Saturday thing", I sat back down on the couch.

She hopped up and clapped her hands. "If I don't get going now, I'll be late." She walked toward me. "And I know that you have a lot to do..." She paused, as if trying to figure out the best thing to say. "...my studly man", she finished and patted my head for emphasis. With that, she headed toward the door and was gone.

I was a***** when she got home. Because she had no early meetings, I let her ***** and only saw her after the Thursday meeting. I told her that she was right and that my Saturdays were now going to be devoted to Club activities. She seemed happy with that - I guess because of the flower beds. She suggested I make one of the Indian dishes she had been sending me. She asked me to pick up two bottles of Sancerre for her and Anita and offered that Root Beer might be a nice treat for Carl and me.

After finishing the meal on Friday, Vivian wanted some time to enjoy wine and conversation with Anita. "Greg, maybe Carl would enjoy helping you with your project."

I was genuinely confused. "Project?"

"She smiled at Anita, "The Millennium Falcon is not just going to build itself."

I was about to object but Anita weighed in, "That's a great idea. It will be fun for both of you."

Vivian added, "Use the guest room, so the pieces don't get messed up between sessions."

I grabbed the box and headed for the guest room. Carl followed. When we got there, he said "You being so perfect is making it hard for the rest of us."

He wasn't harsh, but I was concerned. "I'm the farthest thing from perfect. What do you mean?"

"You know how competitive our wives are. Ever since she heard that you were going to shrink from one of the biggest dicks in the Club to one of the smallest, all I've heard is Greg, Greg, Greg. I thought I would impress her by moving to all vegetarian. What finally got me back on top was my idea for the Saturday Help Crew. Even then, I had to agree not to ***** to match you. Now, I'll need to come up with a hosting idea that can match your Lego set.", he responded.

After assuring him that I would be more sensitive to these issues, we settled in to Lego. It turned out to be surprisingly fun. Two hours passed without us noticing before a buzzed Anita showed up at the door. "Sorry to interrupt the fun, but I've got to take this one home. You'll get to have more fun tomorrow."

She was right. The Saturday project was fun, and it was good to hang with the gang outside of the Clubhouse. It felt weird, actually, to not see them for the three days until Tuesday.

Scott's wife, Claire, led the group. "This is a tough one", she said. "We are going to cover Courtesy today, but it means we have to revisit Friendliness." We all watched her with rapt attention. "Recently, I had a friend visiting. Scott, from the kitchen, overheard me call him Vincent. He yelled, from the kitchen, 'Hey, Vincent, you need anything?' Scott then came into the living room and started asking Vincent about his car. What makes this hard is that I know that Scott was just being friendly. It got me thinking about how Friendliness always needs to be preceded by Courtesy. I have a few suggested steps, but I'm sure that you can come up with more. We've all been impressed by your creativity and commitment. Here are my thoughts on what might have made Scott's interaction go more smoothly. He might have waited until he was invited into the conversation. Had he waited within our line of sight, but a respectful distance away, we could have invited him to join us without the awkwardness. Once he joined the conversation, Scott should not have presumed a first name basis with Vincent. He should have been addressed as Mr Sanders until he offered the privilege of that familiarity. The third mistake was shouting from the kitchen. His voice should have stayed soft and measured throughout the interaction."

We promised to give her comments great weight as we set out to create a law of courtesy that would make us better husbands.

It's amusing to read how these weak and limp men make themselves submit to their wives who enslave and 4ce them to reduce the size of their penis so that they can then, I bet, be free to enjoy sexual favors with other men. I wouldn't hesitate to kick them and ask for a divorce, unless they apologize and make an iron-clad promise of fidelity. But husbands love their wives, someone might argue, but wives too need to show love and respect for their husbands without putting them down sexually and emotionally. One thing that the husband must absolutely safeguard is his dignity as a man since sooner or later his weakness will be known to his circle of acquaintances (family members, friends, colleagues, etc.).
This is my bull's-eye thinking.

Many thanks for the new chapters of the really awesome story. Please continue ...
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Submissive Cuckold - lives for many years in a female-led marriage with a cuckold lifestyle.

I was scrubbing the kitchen floor when Vivian came in and sat quietly at the table.

I looked up at her and asked, "Do you need something?"

She replied, "I'd like to speak with you, but it can wait until you take a break."

I stood up and walked toward the table. "I'm happy to take a break now. You shouldn't have to wait until I'm done." We had agreed that neither of us would sit on household furniture while wearing our housecleaning clothes. I assumed she abided by that also; although, I couldn't remember the last time I had seen her in hers. I stood in front of her which felt a little awkward. Putting my hands in my pockets helped a little.

"You're so considerate, Greggy." She had adopted Gregg as a nickname for me in recent weeks. I didn't mind it so much so long as it stayed between us at home. "That's why I'm so surprised at what happened this morning."

"What happened?", I gasped. I'd been cleaning all day and did not recall any problems.

She seemed surprised at my surprise. "Mr Murtaugh was with me in the living room for an hour. You broke the law of Courtesy. "

"I didn't even speak to him. I just kept up my cleaning." I was starting to feel upset. My voice broke as I spoke, and I held back tears. This was something else that had recently started. When I was younger, I would start to cry whenever someone else was upset. That ended in college, but it had recently resumed whenever I felt that Vivian was not happy.

"That's the point, Greggy. The law is pretty clear on what you are supposed to do. You are supposed to put yourself in our line of sight but at a distance respectfully out of earshot."

I could not hold back the tears, "I...I thought that was only if I wanted to talk to him."

She spoke tenderly, "Come here, Sweetie." I walked gingerly toward her. She wiped the tears from my cheeks, "You poor puppy. You're trying so hard and it's so complicated for you. Let me tell you why what you thought couldn't be right. The law of Friendliness means that you always want to talk to my guests. The law of Courtesy tells you how to do it."

She was right, and I started crying again. "It's OK, Greggy", she comforted me. "I know you didn't mean to be rude, and I know you'll do better next time."

"I will", I promised.

She continued, "You'll get another chance soon. He just had to head out for a meeting. Then he's coming back. I know you'll make me proud. I want you to cheer up. I love you, and you have a fun night coming tonight. Why don't you finish the floor and then relax and think happy thoughts."

I composed myself. Vivian was right. I'd made an honest mistake and I could make it right. The fun night she mentioned was another new development. My Lego session with Carl had so impressed Anita and Vivian that they pushed for us to add Friday night ********** to our Club activities. These were mandatory, but they were meant to be fun only. We could not really argue against an idea that was designed specifically to make us happy. Each of us got to pick our own activity that we would share with our guest when it was our turn to host. Vivian had told me that she was so sure I'd want Lego that she picked that for me before anyone else tried to grab it. Tonight I was ******** over at Carter's house, which because his wife, Brenda, is the Mayor, is a mansion downtown. Moreover, Carter had chosen video games as his activity. Brenda had chosen his games, so the titles were rated "E" for everyone. I was excited, nonetheless.

I finished the floor and took my shower. I had just finished dressing and packing my away bag when I heard the door. I hurried downstairs and positioned myself at the doorway between the living room and the dining room. They could see me, but I couldn't hear them when they spoke at normal volumes.

Vivian spoke up. "Come talk to us, Greggy." I walked nervously toward them. They both calmly made eye contact with me. My own focus shifted first to her, then to him, then to the floor. "Hello, Mr Murtaugh. How are you today?"

He looked at me. "I'm doing fine, and I'm very glad you came to say hi. Let me ask you: do you prefer Greggy or Greg?"

I felt a wave a gratitude toward him. "I prefer Greg, Sir." Calling him Sir just slipped out, but it seemed appropriate since he seemed to be taking my side on the diminutive nickname.

"Well, Greg it is then", he continued magnanimously. "Vivian and I need to continue our conversation, so you can get back to your day. I look forward to our next meeting."

"So do I, Mr Murtaugh."

Chuck's wife, Jennifer, is the best accountant in town. She does our taxes and those of almost everyone I know. Since the Club by this time had absorbed my entire social life, she handled the affairs of everyone I spent time with. While she's not my type, it is hard to look at anyone else when she's in the room. She has literally no boobs - training bra flat, and her hips aren't much more developed. Her face, though, is that of an Angel. Moreover, her voice reinforces that effect. With a slight Scots brogue, her soft vocal timbre creates beatific (but oddly sexy) feelings. It's hard not to believe what she says.

"...that there are three types of people when it comes to thrift:" I always miss the start of her remarks because of the mesmerising quality of her face. "Some people are just born thrifty. They watch their pennies even if they have billions of them. This group constitutes 10% of the population. Another 25% of the population is thrifty so long as they don't have money. They match their spending to their incomes. When they have money, though, it will burn a hole in their pocket. They need to spend it. What that means is that nearly two thirds of the population can't be thrifty even if they have no money. They spend on things they don't need and run up credit card debt which they 'handle' by not opening their bills. Does anyone have any questions so far?" As I surveyed the room, I couldn't glean who was tracking what she said. I could see, though, that every guy was as smitten as I was.

"I think you will all remember that I asked you and your wives to complete a financial goals and tactics questionnaire. Your wives have all consented to have the results shared with you tonight, but I won't if any of you has objections." She paused to allow us to speak. We all sat quietly with goofy smiles.

"Your wives, gentlemen, defy statistics. Eight out of the eleven who completed the questionnaire registered as naturally thrifty. The other three fell into the second category which is neither thrifty bore spendthrifts. I am proud to associate with these women. You all, on the other hand, performed significantly worse than your wives and worse even than the general populace. Nine of you are full on spendthrifts with the other three making it to the second category. The least financially responsible wife demonstrates more maturity with money than the most responsible husband in our group." She paused again, this time for effect.

"Your wives and I are not mad at you. We feel bad for you. The kind of behaviour you demonstrate borders on pathological, and it doesn't make you happy. Does anyone here have trouble ******** because of the debt you've run up?" A few of us were now looking at the floor. She continued, "Has anyone here ever made a large purchase that you thought was going to change and fix your life only to find that it left you feeling empty and sad instead?" At this point, all of us were looking down.

"What you are experiencing is totally normal. It turns out that the only people made happy by money are the thrifty. Only they and the top half of the second category enjoy their spending. To reiterate, none of you are in that top half and all of your wives are at least in the top half. Does anyone have any questions or comments?" Nobody had anything to say. I had tears welling, and I think I wasn't alone.

She looked us over and then spoke. "I am recommending some draconian changes to your lives. This is not the first time I've made such recommendations, but this is the first time I have believed they might work. Most of the time people who are financial disasters marry other financial disasters. You all had the wisdom or luck to wed someone who can help you. Additionally, you have each other. As a group, you've shown the ability to stick by hard decisions to help yourselves and your wives. This may be the most important law yet."

With a note of resignation, Roger asked, So what are you suggesting?

Jennifer handed Chuck a set of envelopes. Each husband received two envelopes. After they were distributed, Jennifer spoke again. "We are going to go through the thinner envelope first. Those will require you to do some work tonight. When you complete them, those will go to your wives. You will hold onto them until you decide to execute the plan, so don't worry about what I'm asking you to do tonight. In fact, you'll be taking both envelopes home. I expect you to discuss them with your wives and then to discuss them amongst yourselves on Thursday. I feel strongly that these envelopes will provide tremendous benefits for you, but it has to be your decision."

She seemed to be waiting for something, so I finally spoke, "Please go on."

"I want each of you to take all cash, credit cards, and debit cards that you have on your persons and put them in this envelope. I want you to use your phone to find the login IDs and passwords of all financial accounts that allow online access. Please wire those down on the paper that is in the envelope. This is a hard process; I appreciate that. For most people, this takes an hour. I'm going to step to the side and pour myself some coffee, but I'll check back in 30 minutes to see if we get lucky."

I pulled the form out of the envelope. It asked for the institution, the website, the login ID, the password, and the secondary authentication method. I didn't know what that last was, so I ignored it. The institutions and websites were easy. I only had three and they were household names. I use the same ID/password combination for all of them (and for everything else). I finished in four minutes. I did not like the direction this seemed to be going, but I took comfort in the fact that I wasn't giving the envelope to anyone. We had a lot of time to make the substantial changes that I was confident we all would agree were necessary. I noticed that nobody was writing.

"Jennifer, I think we are done.", I called over to her. She returned to the table with her coffee.

She seemed surprised, "It's only been six minutes. Well, this seems to be an area of finance where you guys excel. Let's move to the next envelope."

My wallet felt strange in my pants. I pulled it out. All that was left was my driver's license, my library card, and a bus pass. My right buttock liked the change, even if I didn't.

Jennifer launched into the documents. "The first page is a direct deposit slip that will cause your pay checks to be directed into your wives' accounts. They know that they have to open these accounts. I think most of them will have done so. The second is an application for a FamZoo visa. This is what you will use for most spending. Initially, these will be funded with $500. After that, funds can only be added or removed by your wives. In a separate conversation, we discussed how to handle that. Right now, we are thinking a weekly allowance and additional funds to reward you for being helpful. The next document is an irrevocable financial power of attorney which empowers each of your wives to conduct business on your behalf without bothering you. The similar document after that is an irrevocable health power of attorney. It lets your wife make medical decisions for you. It's important if, for instance, you are *********** and someone needs to make a fast decision for you. The next document puts all of your assets in a trust for which you are the beneficiary. This protects those assets from fraud, lawsuits, and other bad things. The final document makes a number of appointments. You all appoint me as a financial advisor and tax representative. Everyone except Greg appoints Vivian as their personal physician. Greg appoints Laura as his physician and also as his psychiatrist. Lenny's psychiatrist is and will remain Laura's friend, Dr Allred. The rest of you will work with Laura in that capacity. Scott's attorney will be Anita, and Carl's will be Claire. The rest of you will appoint both. We've put a lot of thought into this, but please weigh in if you have questions."

Other Mike raised his hand and was called on. "I don't think I need a psychiatrist.", he said.

Jennifer replied, "That's a great point, Mike. In order to complete the documents, everyone needs to have a few sessions. After that, I'm certain that you and Laura will see that you don't need more. The important thing is that you will have established a baseline that you will be able to lean on if you need it."

We thanked Jennifer for her tremendous efforts on our behalf. She told us she hoped it was helpful and that she looked forward to seeing what we came up with.

When I got home, Vivian was still out. I was pretty exhausted from, well, everything. I wanted to just collapse in bed but I had a full nightly ritual that took at least 30 minutes. Vivian had gotten me a book on tape, ONE YEAR TO AN ORGANIZED LIFE, that I listened to while I went through the steps. When I finished, I put on the pajamas she'd bought me. Like my Lego project (which we'd finally finished during the Friday stay over), the pajamas also had a Star Wars theme. I'm not really a pajama guy, but Vivian pointed out that boxers and a T-shirt was not such a clean look. Perhaps to reinforce that, she had been replacing my boxers with briefs. She really didn't need to. She gets so sad if I don't use what she gets me that I would have adopted the pajamas regardless.

Not only did she not wake me when she got home, but she had already gotten up and left when my alarm rang.

When I got home that night, I got a nice visual treat. Vivian was sitting on the massage table in the the green silk robe I love so much. She practically purred, "I still have to go out tonight, but I told them I'd be late."

Since the first massage table orgasm, we had settled on that as our primary (only, actually) form of intimacy. She had admitted to me that she was really hoping for some significant shrinkage that would make it easier for her to handle me inside her as a condition of our return to intercourse. We kept some of my towels at the ready for these engagements. A more recent change was extending the time between them from seven to fourteen days. She said she liked the effects that had on me. From what I could tell, the two biggest changes were that my brain felt like a crumbling cookie and that my time from start to finish had gone from 10 minutes to two minutes. I was very quickly naked and lying on the table. She stroked and tickled the seam of my scrotum with her fingernails.

"I want you to see my body", she let the robe slip to her feet. Any remaining pieces of cookie in my brain were now smashed to crumbs and the crumbs were turning to powder.

"Oh my god", I gasped. My breathing was laboured.

"I love you like this", she was measuring. "Oh", she said.

"What is it", I pleaded.

"I was expecting you to be three and three quarter inches. I was sure tonight is the night. This messes everything up!", she pouted.

"It doesn't", I offered. "It doesn't have to."

"I had it all planned out. I was going to let you inside me this week for making it to average. Then, I was going to let you do it again next week for signing Jennifer's documents. Even if you didn't shrink anymore. I am so proud of your maturity. You deserve it. But now, it's ruined."

"Well, we can do what we normally do this week and I'll still have two big rewards coming" I offered.

"I don't want to", she pouted some more. "Don't you think it is tough for me not to have a man inside me. It's not my fault you are the wrong size. I'd rather wait until we have something to celebrate."

"I think I'll go crazy if I have to wait", I was in a state of befuddlement.

"Well you do", she concluded sadly. "Unless..."

"Unless what?", I asked hopefully.

She looked thoughtful. "You could sign the documents tonight, and then we wouldn't have to wait."

"There's a lot to that, though", I countered.

"No there isn't. You just have to sign six pages and give me two envelopes. I guess that might mess up the Club schedule, though. Probably better that we wait. It might help some of the other guys if you signed first. They look at you as a leader. It's your decision." Throughout this, she ticked my scrotum with her left index finger and used my fluid to make clockwise circles on my tip with her right index finger.

I sat up, "What the heck. I know I'm going to sign them. I'll meet you in the bedroom. I brought the envelopes in and signed the documents while she watched. I climbed on top of her and slowly slided in. How's that. I noticed that I could only feel her on one side of my shaft at a time. She was grimacing less than usual. In fact, she had a look of satisfaction on her face. She must have anticipated that this would be better for her; she had that look even before I penetrated her.

"You're so good", she said dreamily. "And you keep getting better.

The next meeting of the Club was the shortest I remember. It turns out all of us had already signed Jennifer's documents.

I switched sl33pover to stayover but forgot to fix sl33p itself. I have to watch out for d-rink. It's a good thing I didn't write about misterambulism. Some of the others were on me. I fatfingered "nor" into "bor" which Apple kindly changed to bore. I should at least read through these drafts before I post. I hope it remains coherent. Thank you for sticking with it. I have a pretty good idea of where I'll take it if people remain interested, but I'm happy for any suggestions people have. Please give even obvious suggestions, like don't ***** before *****.

dougie13

Please di-vide (as I did) the words hidden to let us readers to under-stand better.

leone55
Thank you. Good suggestion.

I can only repeat myself: Please continue ...
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Submissive Cuckold - lives for many years in a female-led marriage with a cuckold lifestyle.

Ten weeks later, I was sitting in Dr Garmin's office. At our first meeting, she had made it clear that calling her Laura was not appropriate in a professional setting. She pointed out that I now had professional relationships with most of the wives of the Club. It would be easier and less problematic if I, and the other husbands, addressed them all professionally all of the time. Laura would always be Dr Garmin; Jennifer would always be Ms Clark; and Brenda would always be Mayor Johnson. My own wife, of course, would be excluded from this. I should address her however she wanted to be addressed.

I started, "Dr Garmin, you asked me to spend this session talking about the things that are the hardest and that bother me the most about my efforts to become a better husband?"

"That's right", she responded. "Given what happened with Mike and some of what you told me, about your crying, for example, I'm worried about you. We are all worried about all of you. I am thinking that might be some medication that might help you and some of the others deal better with your issues."

"Is what I tell you just between us?", I queried.

"With most patients, sessions with me are entirely confidential. Because your appointments were arranged by Vivian through her power of attorney, I am required to share with her anything we discuss." She watched my face for clues. "Is that a problem?"

"No, it's probably for the best.", I answered resignedly. "Whenever I try to talk to her about anything, I lose track of what I'm trying to say and start to cry. Maybe you can help her understand the things I'm having difficulty with."

"That is such a grown-up attitude. I'm proud of you, and I'm sure she will be also", she smiled at me.

"I'm not so sure that's true. I don't think I'm the only one who's changed. She seems different since we passed the Thrift law." I gathered my thoughts.

"Go on, please."

"The whole thing was different than we thought it was going to be. Jennifer, I mean Ms Clark, had mentioned $500 per week. We were all certain that we were going to be fine with that constraint. Of course you know that it wasn't $500 a week. It was $480, and that $480 was not per husband - it was split across all of us. Just when we had gotten used to $500 per week going to $40 per week, we learned that only half of that was guaranteed. We get $20 per week and our wives hold onto the other $20 to reward us for chores. I was sure that I would do enough chores to get the full $40 every week, and I developed a plan to live on that amount. It was a tough plan, but I thought we could do it.

That got us to the next feature that we hadn't fully appreciated at the time. Ms Clark was adamant that all of the wives had to pay the same price per chore. When we started, that was $4 per chore. I maxed out in two days. It went to $2 and I still made it comfortably. The following week, we earned a dollar per chore. I got the $20, but not everyone did. It went to 50 cents a chore, and none of us got the full amount. Vivian came home from cocktails with the other wives. She giggled when she told me her bad news/good news. The wives had decided that each chore would be worth twenty-five cents, but, and she thought this was hilarious, they had decided that was as low as it would go. That meant that doing 100% of all chores in our household, and doing them perfectly, gave me $27.25 of spending money per week."

"We know how tough it is", Dr Garmin sympathised. "We hope you see how important it is."

"That's not the tough part, Doctor. That's just the stuff you already know. My own stuff made it much worse. After my total allowance had settled to about $25 a week, I got roped into going to a bar with my workmates. They had specifically scheduled them for Monday because I had told them that was my only consistent free night. I really couldn't get out of it. Well, one Manhattan became three, and we had to try the chef's blinis and crème fraiche, which meant we needed caviar... In the end, my damage was nearly $200. It was a reasonable number relative to prior nights out, but my total wealth, as measured by FamZoo was only 10% of that.

My best judgment at the time, impaired by inebriation, was that some physical affection would help me get some extra money from Vivian. I don't know what I was thinking. This was one day before we were going to pass a law pledging Reverence to our wives' physical bodies. In advance of a commitment to never initiate intimacy, which included averting my eyes if Vivian was ever naked, I thought that ********* pawing her and asking her to get naked would help my case. After she had angrily relegated me to the guest room, I knocked on her door. I apologised for being forward, but told her that we had a problem. After hearing it, she told me that only I had a problem. We would go to ***** now, and get up early to discuss my problem.

I was hungover when she woke me at 6am. She was calm and had made coffee. She didn't speak long, and the upshot is that she was disappointed with my irresponsible behaviour. She would give me the money to pay off my coworker, but she had to make sure that this would never happen again. She asked if I remembered the loan provisions of the Thrift law. I didn't, but they were there in excruciating detail. Loans have to be approved by the wife. To discourage loans, interest is charged at a rate of 10% per week and had to be deducted from allowance or paid in cash in advance. I don't know if you've read it through, Dr Garmin, but Ms. Clark really did consider everything."

"I've read it through", she said flatly. "Please continue."

"Vivian then handed me a new Lego set. This one was an R2D2. She told me that she had planned to cover 90% of all Lego costs when she still believed that I was on a path to financial responsibility. Given what had happened, though, that had changed. Her new plan was to cover none of it. She would give me a loan for $194 to pay my bar bill as well as the $104 cost of the Lego set. She knew I had $22.73 in my FamZoo account and she hoped I had $7.07 cash to cover the first week's interest. Of course I didn't, and I was sobbing - more from her disappointment than from my financial ruin. Even if I did have it, the weekly interest on my loan was going to be more than my total allowance.

She threw me a lifeline by suggesting that she sell my car. This would present severe but survivable consequences. If I did so, she would make some concessions to help me transition to this new life more gracefully. She would cover the cost of an unlimited bus pass. She would absorb all interest costs on all loans for the first year as well as forgive the current loan completely. She would cover all Lego costs and provide a $10 snack budget for any stayovers I would host. Finally, she would give me $20 per week for the next five weeks to help smooth my landing.

I told her that I was grateful for this deal. It seemed very generous to me and I told her so. She pointed out that the cost of car ownership was out of my reach, so this step was inevitable. Given that, she argued that her deal amounted to a reward for bad behaviour. She would honour it though because I seemed particularly contrite for my lapses and grateful for her largesse.

By the time that the extra $20 per week ended, I had managed to save nearly $20. At Vivian's suggestion, I spread it out so I'd have an extra $5 for each of the next four weeks and then I'd be fully acclimated to what Vivian calls my new 'Lifestyle'. On the final week of the extra funds, I used $4 to buy a bouquet of multi-coloured daisies at the local deli. She seemed more touched by that than she had been by multiple thousands of dollars worth of jewellery that I had bought in the past to assuage a guilty conscience."

Dr Garmin interjected. "That all sounds like a problem that you two solved together beautifully. It sounds like you both are comfortable with your new lifestyle. "

I demurred, "I don't think comfort is the right word. It is very hard to survive on $27 per week. You probably noticed that Vivian set my appointments with you for Monday. That gave me a reasonable excuse to opt out of socialising that day. I bring lunch every day and I ***** the pretty terrible free coffee at work. I launder and iron my own shirts, steam my own suits, and polish my own shoes."

She countered, "That sounds like what a lot of people do every day."

"That's true", I acknowledged. "My issue is the time it all takes. Part of the reason Vivian woke me at six to deal with our issues is that she knew that would probably become my new wake up time. My office is a 15 minute drive. It takes 45 minutes by bus. Making my bag lunch takes 15 minutes, but I can usually skip that and bring Vivian's doggie bags from her increasingly frequent dinners out. I forgot to mention that I have to buy my own lunch groceries. That entails 40 minutes of bus and walking - half of it carrying shopping bags.

When you add it up, I get up at 6 every morning and work and run around nonstop until 9 at night. I then have a couple of hours to maybe earn an extra 50 cents from Vivian or get a little time to read or play Legos before I collapsed into bed."

Dr Garmin chimed in again, "Is that every night?"

"Not every night", I admitted. Wednesday and Friday nights are different.

"So you don't have issues with those two nights?", she wanted to infuse some positivity.

"Wednesday night is our sex night. In a funny coincidence, it seems to be the sex night of every Club member. Before we launch into the specifics of Vivian's and my sex life, I want to recap what I think I understand about the CCPP situation. Maybe you can tell me if I got anything wrong.", I asked hopefully.

"This is a grey area", she offered. "Because I was a participant, I have to be very careful to draw a line on this topic. I can't talk about what I did or what I observed that night. I can only talk about what you heard others say and how you feel about it. Is that OK?"

"That sounds fair", I agreed. "From what I heard, all 12 wives went to a Mexican restaurant where you sat at a long table and shared pitchers of margaritas before ordering food. Someone noticed that there were 12 Hispanic guys sitting at a matching long table *****ing matching pitchers. Before any food was ordered, the two groups had pushed their tables together. When asked why they were there, the guys stated that they were members of CCPP. One of the wives jokingly retorted that they were WoSPH. While the Wives of Super Perfect Husbands were willing to clarify their acronym, the CCPP did not want to divulge. The wives deemed this a challenge they could overcome by pouring tequila on it. Many pitchers later, it came out that CCPP stood for Chicos con penes pequenos. They were proud Latin men, none of whom had an erection longer than 3 inches. The combination of our sex starved wives, guys perfectly proportioned to accommodate them, and the beautiful mansion which the CCPP had air bnb'd for the month needed only margaritas to fuel the inevitable result. All of our wives had sex that Thursday. Wives who weren't hosting stayovers also had sex on Friday night. Most of the wives also had sex on Saturday. On average, each wife had three different sex partners over those three days.

To their credit, they did not hide these events from us. On the following Tuesday, we were meeting to vote on the Trustworthiness law. Chairing the meeting was Ms. Moore, Al's wife, who is the Chief Technology Officer of a large European surveillance company with a global reach. On the Thursday that our wives were canoodling at the CCPP mansion, we were basically rubber stamping Ms Moore's suggestions. We were going to create new online accounts providing birthdates that aged us less than 18. Ms Moore suggested that 13 was an age that would allow us to have accounts and that would not require us to update or change anything for as much as five years. We would all install a variety of apps on all of our devices. These included Norton Family, Apple Family, Microsoft Family Safety, AT&T Secure Family, and Google Family Link. All devices would be administered by our wives. Our accounts would be standard accounts, preferably under control of a family leader. Needless to say, any purchases would have to be approved. Our wives would have 24/7 knowledge of our whereabouts, our browser activity, any phone calls, any videos we watched. Anything that might be considered porn (including lingerie sites) would be blocked. Searches for 'naked boobs' would return the internet's biggest lie, 'Unable to find content that matches your search term'. If at any time they found our phone use objectionable, they could absolutely freeze the device by pressing a single button in their choice of apps.

When Ms Moore arrived for the Tuesday meeting, all of the wives arrived with her. They told us about the CCPP. They did not seem as sorry about the infidelity as they were about the circumstances that had driven them to cheat. We are all still too large, they repeatedly pointed out. One said that she finally had a chance to have sex with a two inch penis, and she finally had learned what she'd been missing. They finished in a surprising way. They wanted our permission to continue to have sex at the mansion until either the CCPP left or we had shrunk to at least our target sizes.

We asked to have an opportunity to discuss this among ourselves. They suggested we do so outside, and report back when we were done. We filed out and they took our seats at the table.

I'm not going to tell you who said what because you are one of the wives and I don't want to betray confidences. "

She nodded, "I'm impressed by how well you are separating me the doctor from me the participant."

I continued, "Outside, we had a spirited discussion. Someone pointed out the irony of imposing surveillance of our activities when our wives were the ones stepping out. After that, we got serious. Our wives had made good points. Moreover, they were focused on our self-improvement to the point that they were neglecting their own needs. We all knew that we were going to let them continue, but we needed to add some conditions. We decided to have Carl act as our spokesperson.

Before Carl could start, Ms Moore directed each of us to stand behind our respective wives with our hands on their shoulders. She said it would help our bonds. All of the wives listened to Carl with great seriousness. He told them that we were OK with their request to continue the affairs, but that we wanted to revisit our compounds and dosages to accelerate our shrinkage. Our wives agreed to our demands, and we started to leave. Vivian stopped us and pointed out that we weren't done. We still had to vote on the new law. Actually, we weren't sure what would happen. Would all of the wives get to vote. Ms Moore saved the day by pointing out that she had read through what we'd done and was OK with it. She declared the law of trustworthiness in ***** and promised to have all of our devices in compliance within a week by assigning consultants to work with our wives.

At this point, Other Mike just started freaking out. He was shaking and yelling about how it was all a lie. You tried to calm him, Dr Garmin, by asking what was a lie. He was saying that it was all a lie, that our dicks are already small, that the PP probably stands for penes prodigios. That he wanted to be treated like a man. Anita, Ms Simmons, asked him if he thought that there was a conspiracy among the wives to pretend to like small dicks when they actually want big dicks but were shrinking their husbands to give them small dicks which they don't like. Other Mike told Ms Simmons that she was trying to confuse him. He ran out of the building. Arthur's wife, who we now call Police Chief Felix, was on her walkie talkie. She said that he'd be fine - that they would find him. We haven't seen him since, though. I am worried." I knew I had started to babble, so I stopped talking and looked down.

Dr Garmin looked at me compassionately. "You've been through a lot. I think you are holding up very well, all things considered. Vivian tells me that you are compliant with her attempts to help you. You are, however, taking fairly large doses of hormone suppressants. Those are what is causing the tears. I'm going to start you on Lexapro, which is an SSRI, and Klonapin, which is a Benzodiazepine. These will help you stay calm as all these changes occur to your body and mind. I don't think you will be on them, especially the Klonapin, too long. You can think of them as the psychological equivalent of the $20 per week that Vivian gave you. It's just something to help you ease more smoothly into your new lifestyle."

I'm sure that PP means "Penes Prodigios" and not "Penes Pequenos" 😈😈. I can't understand how husbands can be so easily influenced by so bad behavior of their wifes.
Would you allow them to act in this manner?
Answer please. 🙂🙂

Sir,

I very much appreciate your dismay.

Please read this as a cautionary tale.

Best,

D

please continue
.
Submissive Cuckold - lives for many years in a female-led marriage with a cuckold lifestyle.

I expect the next chapter in a day or two. Thank you.

On a Wednesday, several weeks later, I returned from work to an uncharacteristically empty house. I noted from the missing table that Vivian must have canceled her massage. I wasn't worried. I knew that she was engaged in a pretty big project outside of her practice - something entrepreneurial. I figured to look to see if she'd left a note, nonetheless. There was nothing in the kitchen or dining room. I decided to look in our bedroom. We shared a desk and a computer, but she generally has first call on both because she uses it for work. We both had come to call it her desk. I wasn't using it as much since she our passwords had changed and I didn't know hers. My prior ability to just quickly check something on her browser had been cut off. I now need to log in as me and wait for all of the messages letting me know how my computer privileges are being monitored for my protection. It also turned out that porn is not the only blocked topic. I can no longer look at search results that touch on guns, *******, suicide, bullying or gambling. Most of the images that come up for any topic are cartoons. More than half the YouTube videos I watch are now smudged out.

I looked at the desk next to the computer and saw that she had printed out a photo she'd taken of me. In it, I was holding a mug of hot chocolate and wearing only the tops of my Chewbaca pajamas. The ***** had left me with a chocolate moustache. At the bottom of the printout, Vivian had written "#Adorable" and "#Almost_done". Next to the printout, there were notes that she had scrawled in handwriting I was one of few who can decipher:
"Prophylaxis for Oppositional Defiance Disorder (ODD). Regimen compliance rein*****s lifestyle compliance. No ODD behaviour from G. Group dynamic stabilising. Introduction of Billy to group OK any time."

I wasn't sure what she was saying, but I assumed that "G" referred to me. It seemed to be saying that Dr Garmin's medication choices are good. I focused more on the final sentence. It sounded like they were planning to introduce a new member to the group. I knew I couldn't ask Vivian about it. In fact, I felt bad about going through her private papers. I began some general straightening up and was able to get the dusting done before she arrived.

During my chores, I wondered what was going to happen that night. Relatively soon after the Trustworthiness law vote, Vivian told me that she was changing the name of Wednesday night from "sex night" (which she'd always found a little crass) to "Greggy treat night". She explained her logic to me; as always, it was hard to fault.

Since we had stopped having penetrative intercourse, she had forgotten how good sex was - how much she needed it. What we were doing was fun and exciting for her, and certainly for me. However, she didn't need that kind of satisfaction every week. She realised that I wanted it weekly (or more frequently if possible), but we both knew that wasn't good for me. My orgasms were better and my mood and behaviour were better when we put more time in between them. We had moved from weekly to biweekly and then to once a month. I was nervous, at that point, that she was going to move us to a quarterly schedule. That fear was unfounded; she ********** the status quo. She also pointed out that, now that she was having sex again, we both had to admit that what she and I were doing was not sex.

Her second point is that she didn't think it was fair that cutting down the sexual treats should mean that I would have to enjoy fewer treats. One benefit of my new thrifty lifestyle is that it is easier for her to cherish, reward, and celebrate me. One Wednesday she took me to a movie. On another, she took me for ice cream and told me to order whatever I wanted. My choice of the "Extreme Banana Split" was the sort of judgment call that supported, she later told me, our mutual decision to leave more decision making with her.

Some of the treats were sexual even if Vivian no longer thought of it as sex. She let me lick her one Wednesday which is something I've always enjoyed and she's been less enthusiastic about. It had been a while and she had a taste that was saltier than I'd remembered with a metallic, almost bitter, finish. She made me fully undress and wear a blindfold. Afterwords, she wanted me neither to get dressed nor wash my face and brush my teeth. She kissed me on my sticky lips and even pushed her tongue past my teeth. This was unprecedented; she claimed that she was tasting better lately.

I heard the door and put down my duster. "Hi, Greggy", she was smiling. "Are you excited?"

"I'm always excited for you", I responded truthfully.

"That's sweet, honey." She handed me the blindfold. "Put this on."

I complied, and she took my hand. "Tonight you get two treats", she said. I felt my pudendum start to engorge. She started to walk. I was confused but kept pace. I thought we must be near the guest room. The sound of the door opening confirmed that suspicion. "You can take the blindfold off", she said in an excited voice.

I did so, and I was amazed by what I saw. The guest room had been transformed. It had been repainted navy blue with a star pattern accent in phosphorescent paint. The air mattress had been replaced with a solid twin bunk bed set. Next to the matching bureau was a snack fridge. The attached half bathroom had also been totally refurbished and even included a small shower. Decorating the room was every Lego project I'd finished - some on furniture, some on dedicated shelves. "I'm speechless", I admitted.

"It's for your stayovers. Now they don't have to end at bedtime", she explained.

"How did you do this", I asked, "without me noticing?"

"I got lucky", she replied. "If you had come in here, I would have tried to make something up. You probably would have figured it out though. I knew this room was on next week's cleaning schedule, so I had a chance."

"What's the second treat?", I asked greedily.

She replied, "Put your pajamas on and I'll tell you. I started to leave. "You don't have to go anywhere. That bureau's just for you." Sure enough, all of my pajamas were there as well as some underwear and casual clothes. I was going to put on a plain slate grey pair. "I want to pick what you wear", she demanded jovially, and handed me some brightly coloured cotton pjs with elastic cuffs and a picture of an Ewok on the shirt.

I felt oddly awkward changing in front of her. I wanted to jokingly ask her to wear the blindfold, but I thought better of it. She seemed to sense my discomfort, and it caused her to intensify her gaze - to study my disrobing and redressing. When I was done, she handed me a box and said, "For tonight's second treat, I'm going to do Lego with you."

I explained to her my process of dividing and organising the pieces. She listened thoughtfully, but she started looking at her phone while I began the actual process. She seemed to be texting someone about something urgent. "Should we hold off?", I asked.

"No, honey", she replied. "I really enjoy watching you." I finished the organisation and was about halfway through Step 1 when I realised she was still fully engaged with her correspondence. I sulked a little, "I thought you were going to do this with me."

She smiled, "I'm sorry, sweetie. I thought that would be faster. I have an idea how you can really hold my attention."

I looked at her to continue. "Why don't you take your pants off?"

"Would you like that?", I asked seductively.

"I would", she responded. "Even though it's not good for sex, it's good to look at."

I would have liked to just have my pants slip off, but the elastic cuffs blocked that. I had to pull them off inside out and pull the cuffs over my feet.

"Oh, baby", she exclaimed. "That's super hot. Now go back to the Lego. I did so and heard a snap.

"Did you take a picture", I asked.

"I did", she replied. "I might have to touch myself later."

I think she sent a few texts after that, but she mostly stayed focus on what we, me actually, were doing. The doorbell rang. Given my state of dress, she went to answer. A few minutes later, she poked her head in. "Pizza's here!"

"We're having pizza", I asked.

"The pizza's for you", she responded. "I have another dinner. I'd much rather eat pizza with you, but I'll try to get you a good doggie bag. If you can eat without putting your pants back on, I'll keep you company and watch you eat." That seemed a good deal to me.

"Did you have a good treat night?", she asked hopefully.

"I did", I replied. I can't believe all that you did without me even noticing.

"You have no idea", she mused.

"What was that?", I asked.

"Oh nothing", she replied. "I'm just thinking how much fun it is to surprise you." She changed gears. "You know? Seeing how sexy you looked earlier gave me a thought."

"What?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, and slow down, Greggy. Your pizza isn't going anywhere", she chided me.

She was right. I finished my bite, and then spoke, "What was your thought, Vivian?"

"I was thinking that you getting to your target would change our sex life, but...", she trailed off in thought.

"But what?", I queried.

"If you could get smaller than 3 inches, you won't be able to believe what our sex life will become. I know it's a big ask, but do you think you could do that for us, for me?"

At that point, she reached her hand under my shirt and started to tickle my ribs. Dr Garmin had attributed my recent increased ticklishness to the same hormonal changes that had brought about my crying. I started laughing, and asked her to stop. "Please..", I begged. I couldn't control my muscles.

"Did you say please?", she laughed, and tickled higher until she was in my armpit. Perhaps because the hair was gone, that was the place where tickling literally paralysed me.

"Yes", I shouted. In spite of weighing twice what she did, she had me physically subdued.

"Yes, you'll shrink to less than 3 inches?", she nearly shouted back.

"Yes. Yes, anything", I gasped for breath.

She stopped tickling me, and her hand moved down to my genitalia. My balls were fully retracted into my abdomen where they now spent most of their time. She started stroking my tumescent member with her thumb and index finger. I could no longer accommodate two fingers, but I was happy with the new grip. In addition to being smaller, my penis weighed less than it used to. It was easier to control. I was again having trouble breathing, but with a very different experience.

"I don't want to physically ***** you to make this decision; although, it's nice to know that I can", she spoke in a soft, girlish voice. "I want you to do it because it's good for us - good for you. Will you promise to shrink below 3 inches..."

"Yes" I said through laboured breaths.

"...before we start having sex?"

"Yes", I said. "Yes, YES! YESSS!" I exploded in orgasm.

"Oh, Greggy", she sighed. "You make me so happy."

After I recovered, she smiled at me. "I think that was a record. It was closer to 30 seconds than to a minute. I have to go now or I'll be late. You should try out the bunk bed to see if you want the top or bottom bunk. That way, I won't wake you when I get back late."

The day after an orgasm, Vivian finds me argumentative. In the first few minutes following, though, I am putty in her hands. Of course I said yes.

At the meeting the next night, we all got a surprise. Other Mike showed up with a stern looking older woman. To our surprise, she sat down next to him at the table. He asked Al, our acting chair, if he could make some comments before the meeting. Al, of course, had no problem with that.

He started, "First of all, I want to apologise to all of you for my behaviour the last time you saw me. It was rude and unacceptable, and it will never happen again." He looked at his companion. She nodded, and he continued. "I'm doing much better now. The papers we signed with Ms Clark allowed my wife to establish adult guardianship over me within an hour of my tantrum. I spent the next three nights in a hospital upstate having anti-psychotic ***** administered. After that, I was moved into a halfway house in Carmel run by Nurse Lauren who is sitting beside me." She waved to the group. "I live there and have daily therapy with Nurse Lauren. She's helped me a lot. She feels that this group, and you guys, can help my recovery. I've asked for the most accelerated penis reduction plan they can give me, and I've been on extra good behaviour to earn the right to come back to these meetings. Nurse Lauren says that any or all of you can come visit me whenever you want and that there are enough beds to accommodate everyone for as long a stayover as you'd like.

Al weighed in, "Mike, I speak for everyone in saying that we will visit you. You are welcome to visit any of us any time you want to make the drive."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Al, but now that I'm my wife's ward I no longer have a driver's license (or a passport or a voting card, for that matter). Also, it's better that I stay with Nurse Lauren or Nurse Grace. I also have to point out one other thing I'll need your help on."

We all nodded assent.

He continued. "While my beliefs that our wives were conspiring against us were delusional, I did (and still do) have legitimate problems. One of the ones that Nurse Lauren helped me to uncover is that my identity as "Other Mike" was problematic. I have been working on rebuilding a new and stronger identity. My middle name is William, so I'd like you all to call me Billy. Now Tall Mike can just be Mike and I'm the one and only Billy."

Al then ran the meeting. There were no more surprises.

My stayover the following night was with Mike (formerly Tall Mike). I was trepidatious going in. To start, I didn't know Mike that well. I didn't have a problem with him, nor, I think, did he with me. We just hadn't talked much. His activity, also, was costumes. There's nothing wrong with that per-se, but I've never enjoyed getting dressed up. I don't even like Halloween. I decided to make the best of it and keep a positive attitude. I was sure that Dr Garmin would be proud of me if I worked to make it a fun night for Mike.

He was alone when I arrived. He got me some apple juice which is what he was having. We had continued with a prohibition on ******* on Fridays. Some of our Saturday projects were pretty significant. When he sat down, he clearly wanted to talk. "What did you think of Other Mike, or I guess we call him Billy now?"

"He seemed happier", I observed.

Mike countered, "I thought he seemed like an entirely different person. He seemed a little afraid of his nurse."

"When people have a breakdown, it can be hard for them to get a touchpoint on reality. He may need to make frequent checks with her to keep his bearings." I knew I was over my skis, but I watch a lot of medical dramas on tv.

"That's my point though", he interrupted. "Other Mike didn't seem like he was having a breakdown. He was agitated, and he expressed concern that his wife, helped by our wives, was trying to take an unreasonable level of control over his life. Within hours of expressing that concern, he was in a hospital and all of his human rights and personal autonomy had been permanently stripped away."

"I don't think it's permanent", I replied.

"It's not supposed to be. In fact, the guardianship process is designed to be difficult to implement and easy to reverse. In practice, there is a lot of *****. There are shady organisations that use guardianship to strip away people's assets. When I signed this, it never dawned on me that my own wife might want to do anything like that. One of the big problems victims face is that they don't have access to money to hire lawyers. The reversals that do succeed are usually initiated by other family members", he concluded.

I asked, "Are you saying we are as bad off as those fraud victims?"

He looked at me archly. "We are worse off. Martha made the initial petition which gives it the imprimatur of family support. Like the rest of us, Mike signed a Confession of Judgement that gave her the specific power to do this. The petition has the independent medical support of two doctors, Vivian and Laura, one of them a board certified psychiatrist. It has the legal support of Mike's only attorneys on retainer, Anita and Claire. To top it off, the Judge who heard the case and signed the order is Roger's wife, Natalie. If Mike wants to reverse this, he needs to find attorneys who will cap their legal fees at $20 per week. That's assuming Martha hasn't already cut off his allowance completely. Any petition that is prepared will be heard by, get this, the most Honorable Justice Natalie Porter. If he doesn't like her decision, he can appeal it at the state level. Historically, the likelihood of an appeal of a guardianship decision succeeding is 0.00%. In this case, there is not even a motive for a fraudulent petition. Mike, like all of us, already had no assets when guardianship was awarded. By the way, losing the appeal still leaves one option: the US Supreme Court can overrule them."

i was flabbergasted by what Mike had said. "What should we do?"

He gave me that arch look again. "What we do", he said, "is don't piss off our wives. Not unless you want to end up with Nurse Lauren feeding you gruel and wiping your butt. Maybe they'll let you keep your name though which makes you better off than Billy."

I heard the door close. He looked at me. "You are about to hear some pretty serious sucking up."

"Hi Veronica", he greeted cheerily as his wife walked in the room. She looked at me.

I stood up. "Hi Ms. Sutcliff."

"Hi Greggy. So nice to see you. Are you looking forward to spending the night?" I nodded enthusiastically. I could tell that she had ingested a large quantity of *******, but she made her way to the bar and poured a glass of red wine. She looked at Mike. "You", she said, "ahm mad at."

"Let me ask you, Greggy", she has a Southern drawl and somehow made my despised nickname sound sexy. "If Vivian asked you to change your last name to her maiden name, would you do it?"

I answered, "If she had a good reason, I would"

She plopped into an armchair, somehow without spilling and looked at me again. She looks like Doja Cat and everything about her was exciting me. "Ahh have a very good reason. So I guess that settles it. Ah should be mad. Where are mah dogs? Only they and this", she held up her glass, "kin calm me"

"They are at the groomer", Mike answered, "until tomorrow."

"That's bad for you", she glared at him, "they were your last hope to git me in a good mood."

"How about this?", asked Mike, "I changed my mind. Does that make your mood better?"

"Well, you shoulda just said yes immediately. Plus, you're acting like I should be grateful that you stopped acting like a bad dog. You should have been good to start. Why'd ya change?"

"I was wrong", he said. "I should have just supported you and trusted your judgment. You have a lot of pressure on you. I'll be better going forward."

"Those are good answers", she said, "but they're a little late. Ah need you to sweeten the pot for me. How about you take over all the grooming chores?"

"OK", he said.

"...and the morning walks?"

"Yes", he said.

"...and the evening walks?"

"OK", he said.

"And if they are away for the night, you'll walk on all fours, eat of their bowls, and bark instead of talk?"

"Even that", he replied.

"Whaa are you answerin me in a human voice and sitting on the furniture?", she questioned.

He got on his hands and knees and said "Ruff ruff"

"That's a terrible dog. You sound like Scooby Doo. I bet Greggy can do better", she smiled at me.

I was flummoxed, "I don't think..."

She said, "Shhhhh. Let me tell you more. Ah'll give $20 cash to whichever of you does a better job of being mah dog tonight."

That was a game changer. I was supposed to go to lunch with my office the following week. If I w

dougie13

"If I w""???

I think the chapter is not complete.

That was a game changer. I was supposed to go to lunch with my office the following week. If I won that money, I could do it. I got on my hands and knees and started barking, "Urrr rifrifrif. Rif rifrifrif rif. "

"You sound like a cartoon dog too, but ahh like your enthusiasm. But dogs don't wear clothes." Mike and I raced to get naked.

For the next two hours, she put us through more and more extreme competition. She said I was better at rolling over, but her husband was better at begging. She was going to put human food in the dog bowls, but she decided that would be inadequate. She split a can of Kennel Ration between the two bowls and watched us scarf it down. After we both peed in the back yard, she brought us in for the final test. She put her dogs' training collars on us and said the game would end when one of us caught a treat. She sat in a chair, and we assumed begging position about six feet away. After each miss, that dog got a shock. It really hurt, but I knew not to talk.

"Rewrrr", I'd groan.

"Now you really sound like a dog. Unless Mike catches a treat, you are going to go to bed ahead." On her very next throw, it landed in my mouth. I crunched it with gusto and barked excitedly, "Rowrorow."

Fortunately her dogs were Bernese and not terriers. Each bed accommodated one of us. I felt more elated than uncomfortable and managed to get to *****.

She woke me up the next morning by skipping a $20 in my hand telling me it was time for good boys to get up. I started to bark and she said, "You don't need to. You're not a dog anymore. You can take a shower upstairs."

We were waiting in her car for her to take us to Al's for helpday. Mike looked at me and said, "That. That is what we should do."

The following Tuesday, Councilwoman Dowling addressed our group.

"This month's law", she said, "is Cheerfulness. A lot of people mix this up with happiness, but the two are different. Unhappy people can be cheerful. The only people who can't be cheerful are those who are miserable. So my goal here tonight is to make sure you are not miserable. The good news is that you have done the hard part. The most common source of misery is shared by people who have no purpose. You all have purposeful lives, so, as I said, your hard part is done. Even if some of you don't know what your purpose is, you can rest assured that your wives know. Since you don't have psychic misery, all you have to avoid is physical misery. You all are eating well and hydrating. Across the board, your only sources of misery are not enough rest and too much **********

As the night wore on, it became clear that she was offering a few specific solutions: We would eliminate all consumption of *******, and we would each get a bedroom separated from the master bedroom. The master bedrooms would become our wives' exclusive spaces. Each of us would move to a 9pm bedtime in a room that would be free of all electronic distractions. She pointed out that this would also provide an important benefit for our wives. Having us in the same room made it difficult for them to avoid showing us their naked bodies. At the same time we were increasing Cheerfulness, we were also supporting Reverence.

leone55
Correct and thanks. I exceeded someone's max size, I guess.