Joseph's first month in prison proved one of the great universal truths about human nature--that people can adapt to almost anything if they really have to. By the end of the four weeks, Joseph had grown used to a life that once would have seemed not only monstrous, but utterly inconceivable.

Smitty and his buddies continued to harass him every day during their work detail in the laundry. Their favorite stunt was to gang up on Joseph, grab his arms and legs, pull down his pants and push up his shirt to expose his frilly lingerie to the rest of the inmates. They all took bets on what color his panties would be, and the winner could count on walking away with a good handful of cigarettes.

The first time it happened, Joseph had flailed and struggled, bit and scratched. He'd fought as if his life were at stake. He had been terrified that maybe they had gone insane or had developed some kind of death wish, and intended to rape him. When they exposed his pink satin panties and sheer, peekaboo bra to the twenty or so other men standing around gawking, he didn't know how he would ever live down the humiliation.

After a while, though, it became rather-- well, tired. Smitty would grab him by the arm, and Joseph would roll his eyes and let him pull down his pants without any resistance.

"Are we done now?" he would ask in a bored voice after they'd all gotten an eyeful of his undies.

His one small revenge was that Smitty was completely predictable in his guesses, and Joseph made sure never to wear the color panties he knew he was going to pick. So Smitty never won the pot, not even once.

Joseph also eventually grew more used to his husband's demands. Gradually, Gus' rules filtered into his subconscious and became second nature, as Carlos had said they would. Now, Joseph routinely went around thinking things like "I hope my mascara doesn't smear" and "This bustier really is binding." Even the phrase "my pussy" had become part of his mental landscape. If he didn't exactly think of himself as a woman, he had at least learned to answer to "JoAnne."

At times, it startled--even appalled him--to realize how easily he'd knuckled under to Gus' demented role-playing. Mostly, he was just glad to avoid being bent over Gus' knee.

The sex, not surprisingly, had taken the most adjustment. In his heart of hearts, Joseph had hoped that Gus might forget about fucking him if he learned to give head well enough. By the end of the first two weeks, he was going down on his husband with more skill than the average hooker. But Gus tended to be traditional in his views on matrimony, and he wasn't about to forego intercourse with his wife. He declared Joseph's pussy healed on the ten-day anniversary of his deflowering, and they had been having sex regularly since then.

It had hardly become Joseph's favorite part of the day, but he had accepted it as a simple fact of his new existence. Carlos taught him to finger himself before sex, to help loosen his pussy and make taking Gus' horse dick less painful. This was fortunate since Joseph's pussy had become Gus' new favorite toy. He played with it most every night, and often enough, in the mornings, too.

Although getting fucked had become less physically uncomfortable, Joseph doubted anything could ever make it less humiliating. Gus liked a responsive woman, and he had a penchant for the kind of dirty talk favored in amateur porn. During sex, he would say things like "whose pussy it is?" And Joseph was expected to moan and pant and promise in a breathy voice: "It's your pussy. All yours, sir."

The one thing that kept Joseph going that first month was the promise of visiting privileges. Inmates earned the right to weekly visits once they had served a month of time with good behavior. Whenever Joseph wanted to jerk off in the shower and or tell Gus to go fuck himself, he thought about the consequences, about getting the crap beaten out of him or ending up in solitary, all the many things that could mess up his chance to see Madeleine. His rebellion drained away. Whenever Gus came up with one of his insane new demands, Joseph would just smile prettily and say "yes, sir"--daydreaming all the while of Madeleine.

On the day of her greatly anticipated visit, Joseph awoke with a heavy weight pressing down on his chest and the familiar sensation of fullness in his pussy. It was his husband, on top of him, having sex. Gus often went ahead and got started while Joseph was still asleep, much to Joseph's dismay. It made him feel incredibly vulnerable, as if Gus could do anything to him at any time, because, well-- that was pretty much the case.

Joseph kept his eyes closed and tried to breathe evenly, as if he were still asleep. If he had to wake up to a dick in his ass, maybe he could at least get through it without having to fake orgasm.

As Gus pounded into him, Joseph regretfully had to admit to himself that he hadn't always waited for Madeleine to be fully awake, either. He would wake up horny and erect, and there she would be, lying beside him, so soft and lovely and inviting. And he would want to be inside her so much that-- well, he often went right ahead.

Now, Joseph had to wonder if Madeleine had hated that as much as he did, if she had felt just as violated. The possibility pained him. He had never meant for it to be that way, but maybe that's how it had been for her?

Gus abruptly changed angles, and Joseph couldn't help gasping aloud at the discomfort. He opened his eyes, and Gus leered down at him, like a sex-crazed lunatic.

"Oh, yeah, baby," he said. "You feel so good."

He thrust harder into Joseph's pussy, and gave him a long, wet, sloppy kiss on the mouth. Joseph had always thought of kissing as romantic and flirty, but Gus had a way of making it surprisingly filthy. He kissed his way down Joseph's neck toward his nipples. Gus really liked to suck and play with them, as if Joseph were an actual woman and these were his breasts. Joseph's nipples stayed sore most of the time, and even more disturbingly, the area around them had started to look swollen and puffy.

"Show me how much you want it, baby," Gus said.

Joseph cringed. God, he hated this part the most. Sometimes, he would hear other men in the halls whispering about what a fuck slut he was, as if he had any choice in the matter. If he didn't buck and grind and beg like a nymphomaniac, Gus gave him a spanking after the sex was over, adding injury to insult.

So Joseph just always went along. He dutifully screwed up his face in an exaggerated caricature of ecstasy and started to moan. He could feel Gus get harder inside him.

"Oh yeah, baby. Tell me how much you like it!" he commanded.

"So good, so good," Joseph said, obediently.

"Oh, yeah!" Gus thrust more vigorously. "Say it. Say it!"

This part always filled him with shame, but there was just no avoiding it.

"Fuck me," he said, in a breathy imitation of lust. "God, please, fuck me!"

Whenever Joseph was faking orgasm, it always made him wonder a little about Madeleine. She seemed to come every time they had sex, but was that actually possible? There were so many times when she hadn't really been in the mood, and Joseph had kept pressing her until she finally just gave in. Could she possibly have had an orgasm when her heart wasn't really in it? Or had she been faking it the way Joseph was right now? If so, did it make her feel like a whore the way it did Joseph?

"Do it to me, do it to me," Joseph chanted, following his usual script.

Gus reared back and then plunged deep inside him. Joseph could tell that Gus was approaching orgasm, and he escalated his own noises to match. When Gus called out in climax, Joseph pretended to do the same, feeling the waves of semen spurt hotly inside him. There was enough early morning light coming in the windows to give everyone a clear view of Gus fucking him. From all the huffing and puffing and fleshy slapping noises going on around them, it seemed their neighbors enjoyed the free peep show quite a great deal.

Gus pulled out of a Joseph with a soft, squelchy plop. No matter how many times Joseph heard that sound, it never failed to humiliate him. Gus got up and tucked his dick back into his pants.

"That was real nice, Sunshine," he said.

"I really enjoyed it, sir," Joseph said, on cue. "You make me feel so good."

Gus smiled and stroked his cheek. "That's what a husband's for."

Gus went to throw some water on his face. The lights came on. When Gus finished at the sink, Joseph got up. Come streamed out of his pussy and ran down his legs. Other inmates pointed and laughed. It was like Gus planned it this way, to make Joseph's life as unbearable as possible. He was so tired of starting the day with a sloppy pussy. No wonder Madeleine had never seemed particularly thrilled about his need for morning sex.

It's going to be different when I get home , Joseph silently promised. I swear to God, Maddy. I'll never take you for granted again.

Joseph ran warm water in the basin, soaked a washcloth, and cleaned himself as thoroughly as he could. No matter how careful he was, though, he still tended to end up with the [uncomfortable] sensation of wetness slowly oozing out of his pussy. By the end of the day, there was usually a moist spot on his panties. Gus never failed to notice it as he was undressing Joseph for their nightly round of sex. And he always said the same thing: that Joseph must have been fantasizing about him and gotten wet. If he never heard that again, it would be too soon.

At least, Gus didn't seem to feel the need to humiliate him in front of Madeleine. He had magnanimously allowed Joseph to forego his usual makeup routine for her visit. Joseph washed his face, brushed his teeth, and applied his moisturizer and under-eye cream. It actually felt a little strange not to follow up by dabbing on his liquid foundation. He squinted at his reflection in the mirror and examined several small blemishes that he'd never really noticed before. His makeup usually covered all that up, and it actually made him feel a little naked to go out into the world with a bare face.

Snap out of it , he chastised himself. You ought to be happy he's not making you wear all that junk today.

Unfortunately, Gus had not given him permission to dispense with the tuck or the slutty uniform or the lingerie. He slipped on a pair of black lace panties and pulled out the matching bra. He put his arms through the straps and fumbled behind his back with the closure. He still had trouble with the finicky snaps. When he finally got it done up, he maneuvered it into place in the front.

Joseph stared at himself in the mirror. He had been trying to convince himself that the swelling around his nipples was just a figment of his imagination. But as he examined himself, it was impossible to deny. His bras had once lain flat against his chest, but now soft swells filled the tiny cups. Could Gus' rough pawing have caused that? Did he have some kind of freakish illness? Or was it a mental condition? Like those men who came down with morning sickness when their wives got pregnant. Was this swelling in his chest some grotesque psychosomatic reaction to his playacting as a woman?

Joseph's eyes became hot with tears, and he had to blink hard to keep from crying. He really didn't know what was wrong with him lately. Before prison, the last time he could remember crying was back in the third grade when his dog Skippy had died. Now, he got teary at the drop of a hat.

He sighed heavily. It's probably just stress, he told himself. Once I get out of here, everything will go back to normal.

He zipped his pants, pulled on his shirt, and buttoned it up.

"Hey, Sunshine," Gus said. "Don't forget your vitamin."

He held out the little pill in his hand. Joseph took it with some water.

Gus beamed at him. "That's my good girl."

Joseph returned the smile, brightly, just the way Gus liked it. The last thing he needed was to see Madeleine while he was still smarting from one of Gus' spankings.

The next few hours trickled by, the slowest passage of time in recorded history. Joseph was completely distracted. He didn't even notice when Gus took half his breakfast. He couldn't have cared less when Smitty pulled down his pants, and all the cons in the laundry room wolf-whistled at his black lacy panties. All he could think about was seeing Madeleine.

When the guard finally came to get him and escorted him into the visiting room, Madeleine was already seated on the other side of the plexi-glass divider. Madeleine was looking down and didn't notice him at first. It gave Joseph a moment to watch her. She had left her long silky hair down, just the way he liked it. She was even wearing his favorite red dress, even though she always said it was too low-cut and made her feel self-conscious. Joseph's throat constricted with emotion. She was just too good to him.

Madeleine glanced up, and her face brightened when she saw him. He smiled, and she pressed her hand against the glass. He quickly sat down and put his hand over hers. It felt so good to be connected again, even if there was a divider standing between them.

She picked up the phone, and he did the same.

"Joseph," she said. "I'm so glad to see you. I've been so worried."

"I'm okay, Maddy. Really. Haven't you been getting my letters?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, I have been," she said. "And I know you said everything was fine, but I--" She shook her head. "I don't know. I guess I just needed to see for myself." She studied him carefully and frowned. "You look like you've lost weight. Aren't you eating?"

Joseph thought of Gus and colored a little.

"Of course, I am," he told her. "It's just that it's so hard to find anything healthy to eat in here. You know how I always like to watch my diet. Besides, I've put on some weight since we got married. You know how much I love your cooking. I can stand to lose a few pounds Really."

She pursed her lips. "Well, just don't get too thin, Joseph. You know I like you just the way you are."

"I won't," he promised. "Now, tell me how you're doing. Is everything okay with the apartment?"

"Well--"

"Tell me, Maddy. I want to know everything."

"There was just this little matter about the plumbing. But it's all taken care of now. Mr. Gillespie helped me out with it. He's been calling every now and then to check up on me, to see if I need anything. I think he feels bad about this whole thing."

Joseph frowned. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about Mr. Gillespie. On the one hand, the fucking snitch of a bastard deserved to feel very guilty indeed. But on the other hand, he was grateful to the man for looking out for Madeleine.

"I did manage to find a job," Madeleine said. "Just part-time. But, still, it's a job. Right?"

"I thought we'd planned the finances so you wouldn't have to go back to work."

"I know. But with you gone--" She suddenly looked so sad and lonely that Joseph couldn't bear it. "Well, it just helps to pass the time."

"I'm sorry, Maddy. God. I really, really am. I wish to God I'd never gotten us into this whole mess."

"No, Joseph. No. I didn't mean it like that. I just miss you. That's all. And you're being so brave about everything. Really. So incredibly strong. And you know how much I admire that. I just want to be brave, too. For you. And make you as proud of me as I am of you."

Joseph flushed guiltily. He lowered his eyes, too ashamed to meet her gaze. When he looked down, he noticed his bra peeking out through a gap in his shirt. He hurriedly slumped over to keep Madeleine from seeing it.

"Joseph? Are you all right?" Madeleine watched him with concern.

He forced himself to smile. "Of course. I'm just-- Well, I guess I'm kind of emotional. You know, now that I'm finally getting to see you again."

She smiled at him tenderly, and Joseph felt like a lying shit.

All the shameful things he'd done since he'd gotten to prison paraded through his imagination. He suddenly couldn't get his mind off the fact that he was wearing a bra and panties under his uniform. He was acutely aware of the straps digging into his shoulders, the silky cups rubbing against his nipples. His bound cock ached between his legs. His sore, leaking ass reminded him that just hours before another man had fucked the daylights out of him and Joseph had panted for it like a whore. If Madeleine knew, she'd never be able to look at him again. He had to make sure she never found out about any of it.

"I know it's hard, darling," she told him. "But a whole month has already gone by. Before we know it, you'll be released and can come back home again."

He nodded. "You're right. I just have to keep focused on that."

"And I'll manage while you're gone. Don't you worry about that. And everything will work out fine."

"God, I hope so."

"Of course, it will. You'll see."

He nodded. "Maddy-- Just-- Thank you. Really. You're being so great about all of this."

"I'm your wife, Joseph. I'll always be here for you."

She smiled as she said it, and Joseph felt so incredibly grateful, but also rather guilty. This was not the life he'd promised her. She'd always done so much for him, always been the perfect wife. All she'd asked in exchange was that he provide for her, that he be a man. And he'd failed so dismally on that score.

Maybe that's why he didn't feel the same jolt of desire that usually went through him whenever he saw her. Oh, of course, he was glad to see her. He'd probably never been so glad to see anyone in his entire life, and he'd certainly never loved her more. It's just that Madeleine had always had this incredible power to excite him. She would call him at work to ask what he wanted for dinner, and he'd throw a boner right there at his desk, just hearing her voice. Now, he looked at her, and he still thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. But nothing stirred between his legs.

It's got to be the guilt , he told himself. On some level, I probably feel that I don't deserve a wonderful woman like her.

He really wanted to believe that this was the explanation, but the truth was that he'd been noticing a decline in his libido for some time now. At first, he had gotten hard any time he took the tuck off, pretty much the instant his dick was free, all his pent up sexual urges springing suddenly to life. But lately, he'd been having fewer and fewer erections, and when he did get hard, it didn't last very long. He had this terrible fear that by the time he finally got out of prison he wouldn't be able to get it up at all. His dead dick would just dangle limply between his legs for the rest of his life.

You're being ridiculous , he told himself. I'm sure it's the guilt. Or the stress. Or something. Everything will fine once you get out, just like Madeleine said.

"Joseph?"

"Uh-- Yeah?"

"You seemed kind of lost there for a minute. Are you sure you're all right?"

He smiled weakly. "Yeah. I'm just-- You know, thinking about how things will be when I get out."

She smiled and nodded. "I think about that a lot, too."

"I love you, Maddy."

"I love you, too."

"And I really appreciate your waiting for me," he said earnestly. "You're more than I deserve."

She turned a delicate pink. Madeleine was the most modest woman Joseph had ever met. It was one of the things that really endeared her to him.

The guard motioned to them to start winding it down.

"Well," she said, clearing her throat. "It looks like our time is up."

"Thank you for coming," he said. "Seeing you-- It's just made everything so much easier to take, you know?"

Some expression crossed her face that he couldn't quite decipher. But then she smiled, and he drank that in, trying to store away a mental image of her beautiful face to get him through the long hours ahead.

"I'll come again soon," she said. "Bye, Joseph."

He swallowed hard. "Bye."

He watched her walk away down the hall, her slim, womanly hips swaying gracefully, her elegant legs so shapely in her high heels. He stood there staring after her until the guard finally came over and grabbed him roughly by the arm.

"I said time's up, Carlton," the officer said, obviously annoyed.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay," Joseph said.

The guard pushed him toward the door. Joseph hesitated a moment, filled with dread, before he opened the door and stepped back into the twisted world where he was the little woman.

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