She was right. Stark Industries and the Ironman armore were like anchors around his neck, keeping him from really enjoying life. Tony saw his future as a long tunnel of limited options and crushing responsibilities. He felt a sudden urge to drop to his knees
and weap, more so when he say Simon walking towards Wanda. He looked...like he was in a trance, and Tony could imagine all the fun he was about to have. The casual sex with zero consequences. The easy life of blissful servitude that utterly revolved around
the simple goal of making Wanda happy. The vision of perfect happiness that floated before him...
Tony Stark cried out in miserable need as Simone was fitted with his personal tuxedo and stood beside Wanda. She and her boys were such a perfect image of proper and normal existance. Simon exchanged a smile with Vision, and Wanda stroked her boys full and
turgid groins. Tony lowered his head, feelings of regret and loss pulling him apart, If only he had someone! If only he had a perfect a beautiful mistress...a lovely coworker...a simple and rewarding duty.
When Petra touched the miserable man on the arm, Tony gasped in shock. Was Petra coming to his rescue. He looked over and saw Robert and Clara Morris smiling knowingly at him...Charlies and Magneto giggling...Petra was...undressing him. His armor was removed
piece by piece (how did he do that) exposing that he wasn't a big, tall and strong man after all...but a tiny, girlish sissy. Tony felt ashamed to be exposed like this, but Petra just smiled...shook out the srmor, and helped him fit himself back into it. The
armore...no, it wasn't armor...it was all whalebone corsets, bloomers, petticoats and lace. Layer after later was fitted into place, and with each piece...Tony felt more complete. More perfect. His hair was unbound from the severe bun it had been in (to fit
inside his helmet) and allowed to tumble down and about...then it was again rebound, but this time into a fashionable collection of swoops, waves and curls set with jeweled combs and anointed with perfumed oils. His skin so dark (dark?) and fetching...his
botom under the layers a proud, full bubble of feminine glory. His chest smooth and hairless (just like the rest of his body, save for the area around his tiny, boyish cock) and his face a gloriously girlish sculpture of plump lips, high cheekbones and cute,
snub of a nose.
"Antoinette? Are you happy, boi?"
Antoinette smiled, the mincing little boi-toy of Robert and Clara Morris. Rescure from his crushing burdens and horrible life, he'd been remade into a perfect angel of feminine splendor. His skin was the color of fine carmel and his hair as black as coal.
His eyes flashed with wit and intelligence, but now directed only at service and servitude. He smlied...fluttered his fan before his pretty face, then sang out in near orgasmic joy "Oh, Master...Mistress...Antoinette is so very happy! Does Antoinette please
you?"
Robert and Clara went to him and hugged the tiny boi-toy to them, and Antoinette blinked back tears of joy. Instead he blushed, lowered his head, and said "I'm so very happy. All I wish to do...is please you both."
And he would. Antoinette was such a tiny, girlish thing...and since he was black male, Clara couldn't feel jealousy towards him. Sweet little Antoinette would work all day for them with no breaks or freetime, his life utterly revolving around making them
both happy. He would wake them, dress them, open every door and smooth every bump along their daily path. He would laugh at the jokes, sympathize with their problems and die for them if he must. And at night...his tiny black body would fit neatly between them
in bed. Robert would take his tight, round ass and Antoinette would moan and gasp in perfect bliss, while his talented tongue saught the treasure burried deep inside Claras perfectly trimmed (he did the trimming himself) vagina. When they were done, he'd fall
asleep at the foor of the bed, always waking first...ready for another glorious day of total subserviance to the Master and Mistress.
Wanda needed something in exchange for this perfect life, and when Antoinette was told what it was...he laughed. A few papers signed and witnessed...and it was done. Antoinette officially signed over every trace of Tony Starks personal fortune, as well as
Stark (or rather 'Leveau') Industries. When he was done, the weight...was gone. Robert tweaked his bottom and Clara kissed his cheek, and Antoinette fell against them, weaping like a lost little girl who had finally found her way home. They made such a happy
threesome...and soon it was Antoinette who hovered about Robert and Clara, fetching things before they could ask for them and beaming in happiness. Life was bliss...perfect bliss.