Mark Thompson had been married to his wife, Jessica, for eight years. On paper they were the perfect suburban couple — nice house in New York, good jobs, weekend barbecues. But Mark had a secret that burned hotter every single day.
He was a pantyboy.
It started innocently enough years ago — sneaking a pair of Jessica’s silky pink panties from the laundry hamper and stroking himself while pressing them against his face. The soft lace, the delicate scent of her pussy… it drove him wild. Over time it escalated. He began wearing them under his work suits. Then he started buying his own pairs — tiny thongs, cheeky boyshorts, sheer g-strings in every pastel color. He hid them in a locked toolbox in the garage like a dirty addict.
Tonight was supposed to be safe. Jessica had told him she was working late on a big project. Mark came home, stripped down to nothing but a pair of her favorite stolen black lace panties, the ones with the little red bow on the front. His cock was already rock-hard, straining against the delicate fabric, making a very obvious bulge.
He stood in front of the full-length mirror in their bedroom, admiring how feminine and slutty he looked. He turned around, admiring the way the lace disappeared between his ass cheeks. His hand slipped inside the panties, slowly stroking.
“Fuck… I’m such a pathetic pantyboy,” he whispered to his reflection.
He didn’t hear the garage door open.
Jessica stepped into the bedroom doorway and froze. Her husband — her big, masculine husband — was standing there wearing nothing but her black lace panties, cock leaking into them, eyes half-closed in pleasure.
Mark’s eyes snapped open. The color drained from his face.
“J-Jess… I can explain—”
Jessica slowly smiled. A wicked, knowing smile that made Mark’s stomach flip and his cock twitch harder in the stolen panties.
“Oh honey,” she purred, stepping closer. “I’ve known for months. You’re not nearly as sneaky as you think you are.”
She walked right up to him, running one manicured finger along the waistband of the panties. Mark shivered.
“Look at you… my big strong husband wearing my slutty little panties. Does it make your cock hard, baby?”
Mark could barely speak. “Yes…”
Jessica’s hand cupped his bulge through the lace. “Say it properly.”
“Yes… it makes my cock hard wearing your panties.”
Jessica laughed softly. “Good boy. From now on, you’re my pantyboy. And pantyboys don’t get to wear boring boy underwear anymore. Strip.”
Mark obeyed instantly, sliding the black lace down his legs. His cock sprang free, throbbing and dripping.
Jessica opened her lingerie drawer and pulled out a tiny pink satin thong — the smallest, most feminine pair she owned.
“Put these on.”
Mark’s hands trembled as he stepped into the pink thong and pulled it up. The thin string nestled deep between his ass cheeks. The front pouch barely contained his erection. A wet spot was already forming.
Jessica took out her phone and snapped several pictures. “Smile for the camera, pantyboy.”
Mark’s face burned with humiliation… and insane arousal.
Over the next few weeks, Jessica took complete control.
Every morning she would choose which panties he wore to work. Some days it was a innocent-looking white cotton boyshorts with little hearts. Other days it was a sheer red g-string that left nothing to the imagination. She started making him send her pictures throughout the day — proof that he was still wearing them.
One Friday night she came home with shopping bags.
“Strip,” she ordered.
Mark stood naked in the living room while Jessica unpacked her new purchases. She held up a hot pink chastity cage with a little heart-shaped lock.
“Pantyboys don’t need their cocks free,” she said sweetly. “They need to stay locked and desperate.”
Mark’s cock betrayed him, twitching excitedly.
Jessica spent twenty teasing minutes edging him before finally locking the small pink cage around his throbbing dick. The click of the lock made him moan.
She then dressed him herself: a matching hot pink lace bra (stuffed with silicone inserts), the tiniest sheer pink thong, garter belt, and sheer black stockings. She finished with a short pink babydoll nightie that barely covered his caged cock.
Jessica stepped back and admired her work.
“Look at my pretty little pantyboy. Turn around and bend over.”
Mark obeyed. Jessica ran her hands over his smooth ass, spanking him lightly.
“You’re going to be my good girl from now on, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She made him practice walking in heels. Made him learn how to curtsey. Made him thank her every time she changed his panties.
The real turning point came on a Saturday afternoon.
Jessica had invited her best friend, Lauren, over for wine. Mark was upstairs changing into the outfit Jessica had laid out: a baby blue satin thong, matching bra, white thigh-high stockings with little blue bows, and a sheer blue babydoll.
When he came downstairs, Lauren was sitting on the couch.
Lauren’s eyes went wide, then she burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Jess… you weren’t kidding!”
Mark wanted to die of embarrassment, but his caged cock strained painfully against the pink cage.
Jessica pulled him into the room by his collar (she had added a delicate pink leather collar that week).
“Say hello to Aunt Lauren, pantyboy.”
Mark’s voice was small. “Hello, Aunt Lauren.”
Lauren grinned. “He’s adorable. Can I see the cage?”
Jessica made Mark lift the babydoll. Lauren leaned forward and flicked the cage with her finger, making Mark whimper.
For the next three hours the two women teased him mercilessly. They made him serve them wine while on his knees. They made him model every new pair of panties Jessica had bought. They took turns spanking his ass until it glowed bright red.
By the end of the night, Mark was a dripping, desperate mess.
Jessica finally took pity on him.
“On your knees, pantyboy.”
Mark dropped instantly. Jessica pulled her skirt up, revealing she wasn’t wearing any panties. She grabbed his hair and pulled his face into her wet pussy.
“Lick. Show Lauren what a good pantyboy you are.”
Mark devoured her, licking and sucking like a man possessed while Lauren watched and touched herself.
When Jessica came, she soaked his face.
Lauren clapped. “My turn?”
Jessica smiled. “Of course. He’s a shared pantyboy now.”
That night changed everything.
Jessica started taking Mark further. She bought a realistic dildo and made him practice sucking it while wearing full makeup. She introduced plugs — starting small and working up until he could comfortably wear a medium one under his work clothes all day.
The ultimate humiliation came on their anniversary.
Jessica booked a private cabin in the mountains. When they arrived, she dressed Mark in the sluttiest outfit yet: a baby pink micro skirt, white crop top that said “Pantyboy” in glitter, thigh-high white stockings, pink heels, full makeup, and a blonde wig.
She locked him in the pink chastity cage and inserted a vibrating plug.
Then she took him out to a quiet trail for a “walk.”
Every time a car passed in the distance, Mark’s heart nearly stopped. The thrill was intoxicating.
Back at the cabin, Jessica finally unlocked him.
But there was a condition.
“You only get to cum if you beg like the pantyboy slut you are.”
Mark broke completely.
“Please… please let your pathetic pantyboy cum. I’m just a sissy who wears panties. I don’t deserve your pussy. I just want to be your little slut. Please let me cum in my pretty panties.”
Jessica stroked him while he wore a fresh pair of lavender lace panties.
When he finally exploded, he filled the front of the panties with rope after rope of thick cum.
Jessica made him lick every drop clean.
From that night forward, Mark was fully hers.
He wore panties every single day. He stayed locked most of the time. He served her, pleasured her, and thanked her for every humiliation.
And he had never been happier.
