Frank #3 (He stands up for himself)

Frank was starting to cry a bit, his tiny tits juggling slightly. He was acutely aware of his bra, the black straps hugging his chest under his top. It was humiliating when Catherine took him shopping the first time. She didn't even pretend the underwear was for their daughter, but made it clear to the clerk they were fitting him.

"You can't blame me for this!" He shouted, trying to put on a brave front. "I've done everything you asked! If anything, it's been your influence which drove her to this. You're always so domineering. Clearly Christina felt like she couldn't share her struggles with us, so instead she ended up on the pole!"

Frank's resistance was endearing. I decided to alter his changes a bit. I wouldn't subject him to my original plan for him. Yet.

"Catherine, Frank does have a point. Maybe it would be helpful if the children had a parent a bit more willing to open up to them, emotionally. Frank seems to be shouldering the maternal burden here by himself." I said, trying to keep the smile off my face. All these years of guiding families into total degeneracy, and I still haven't mastered the art of a straight face.

Frank looked at me in horror, first that I would characterize him as the maternal one, and then because deep down, he knew it he secretly enjoyed it, just a little. His mouth hung open in shock, a cherry red lipstick appearing on them.

"I never asked for any of this!" He whined.

"Why don't you leave then, Frank?" I cooed. "Why would you let Catherine make you wear all this," I gestured to his clothes, "and why would you take hormones and get implants? No real man would do that."

Frank deflated. The feelings he'd 'had all this time' were coming to the surface, but he still wouldn't admit it. "Because I love my spouse, and I have to take care of my family."

Interesting choice of words, Frank.

I tut-tutted at Catherine. "You're leaving all the mothering up to Frank here, Catherine."

Catherine frowned. "I did not." She turned, her anger receding a bit. "Frank, did you forget something?"

Frank's clothes shifted with his adjusted mentality. His pants turned bright red, and the waist ran up to his navel under his v-neck blouse. His sneakers became sensible black women's flats with the smallest bit of heel.

He shrunk down to 5'5", and scooted to the front of his chair so he could still touch the floor. His hair grew longer and blacker, poofing a bit around his face. His jawline was noticeably weaker. Well, noticeable to me.

"Oh silly me!" Frank exclaimed. "I forgot to take the tarts out of the oven. Just one second everyone." Frank ran into the kitchen, the smell of cherries permeating the air.