From Macho to Pink Pork – A Transformative Roleplay
Roleplay is my favorite session frame. I love to slip into a role and fill it with details and character.
This time, the setting was the following:
An old friend of my husband's had asked to see me about business. I was the CEO of a company with good public relations, and he needed a contract that would allow him to profit from these contacts.
I had known him and his family for years, but always just as a rather distant acquaintance of my husband Tom.
There he was now, asking for a professional favor, but at the same time looking at me in a strange way.
„How is Tom doing these days?“ he asked me.
I told him Tom was fine.
„You know, I always thought you were too good for him“, he suddenly uttered.
„Excuse me, what?“ I was genuinely surprised.
„You deserve a real man, not such a sissy. I don't think Tom can live up to your standards. But you know… Look at me! I've always liked you… and your fine body...“ he said, as he moved closer. I couldn't believe what I heard, and when he reached out to touch my leg, I was definitely unprepared.
„Don't you think we would make a truly amazing pair?“ he whispered, close enough for me to feel his breath on my neck, his hand now stroking my thigh.
And then he reached out with his other hand, turned my face towards him and kissed me.
Next thing, he is down on the floor on his knees, his right arm bent behind his back, his forehead pressed into the ground by my left high heeled foot. He didn't see that coming.
„Would you like to repeat what you just said?“ I ask him.
He shakes his head no and mumbles something, but his current position doesn't really allow for more elaborate speech.
So I pull his head up by the hair, squat down in front of him and spit right into his face.
„I thought so. Where is the „real man“ now? And answer me properly!“
All that comes out is an intimidated stutter, which is followed by a hard slap in his face.
Tears start filling his eyes.
„Aww, a crybaby! How very cute! You're the goddamn sissy in this scenario, is what you are!“ I am laughing uncontrollably now.
„You think a crybaby would be a good match for me, is that what you were saying earlier?“ - The tip of my shoe is pushing into his balls.
This time, he manages to bring out a faint „no“.
„But then – here you are, and it seems like I have to deal with you. Since your behavior towards me was beyond inappropriate, I now have the freedom to punish you.
In less than 30 seconds you already changed from super macho to crybaby sissy, so let's start here.
I think a little pink skirt is perfectly appropriate in this specific case. Even better: a tutu!“
Making him wait in a very uncomfortable position, tied up like a hog, I return with the announced piece of clothing, humming to myself. After all, what started off as a rather boring business meeting has turned into a scenario I am enjoying thoroughly. I just love when over-confident macho dudes practically force themselves to their knees by acting so out of line that nothing could hold me back from showing them their place. They usually even thank me afterwards. It must be exhausting, being an inflated douchebag! And it's so much easier playing along – even if it is just because that's the only thing he can do right now. So he strips out of his own clothes under my strict commands, then stands in front of me, covering his nudity.
„Take your hands away there and put them behind your neck! Oh, you're feeling embarrassed now? Poor baby!“ I look at every little inch of him, which is now twitching, and, smirkingly, I notice that he is dripping excitement onto the ground. So I get up and step very close behind him, whispering into his ear: „You dirty fucking pig, get down and lick the floor clean of the mess you just made!“
He obeys. They all do.
When he comes back up I make him slip into the pink tutu and have him dance around like a ballerina. He is failing the role thoroughly. He looks like a hog hobbling around in its pen, so I decide to pull a pig's mask over his head and make him grunt. He is actually really good at it.
The pig then undergoes a number of embarrassing examinations of its rear end, which lead to loud whingeing and, unexpectedly, sobbing.
„You are a disgrace for your own family“, I hiss. And then, relishing every word as it leaves my mouth, I add: „Your sweet daughter did not put up such a pathetic show when Tom and I had her the other night.“
I can almost see him blush behind his mask as he gasps, and he nearly faints when I show him our precious little video from that wonderful night a few weeks back.
That's it. This pig is done. Cooked.
Medium rare, but that's no good for pork, so I dump it out the door, his clothes follow a while later. Well, most of them.