Stepford Project Reimagined – ebook



The Stepford Project Reimagined by W. R. Maxwell

Stepford Connecticut is the larger and more infamous cousin of Stepford New Hampshire. In the
1960s, a successful, real-life, phycological experiment was carried out on the female inhabitants of Stepford CT. This experiment was known as ‘The Stepford Project’ and it subjugated the
women of the village in every aspect of their life, especially their sexuality. Stepford NH is the
other side of the same coin. In Stepford NH, women are in control and have been for over

After the worldwide financial meltdown of 2008, Alvin Redding, a down on his luck Wall Street
junior financial analysist, is lured to Stepford NH by the promise of a brokerage job. Like many
displaced white-collar workers, he’ll take any job he can find. Little does he realize, Stepford NH, is not the sort of place where a free male is welcome.

A riveting account of Female domination and male subjugation, with Mistress/slave, male bisexuality, forced blowjobs, genital modification, CBT, piercing, cock rings and cages, strap-on sex, double penetration, pussy feeding, cameras, filming, whipping, horse whips and so much more!

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Artist Credit

Cover Art © Scott Schroers



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The night of September 14th, 2008 was special. My roommates, Neil and Frank, and I went to Vic’s Sports Bar for pitcher beer night and Monday night football – New York Giants verses New York Jets. Either way, New York would be a winner. The place was packed, so I had to ‘buy’ a table from a couple who liked the cash more than football.

Neil got us our first picture while Frank eyed the girls.

“You had to buy the table?” asked Neil. “Alvin, I remember that last year we didn’t have to buy the table.”

“Well, I guess Vic’s is more popular this year, or do you think they are serving better beer?” I asked. “It can’t be because the girls are prettier. Heck, they’re one year older.”

Frank corrected me, “one year more experienced. They’re not rookies anymore.”

“From the looks of some of them, they haven’t been rookies for decades,” I said.

Neil found this incredibly amusing. Since he was gay, he didn’t care how old the women were.

We sat and waited for the game to start. Sure, we could have watched the game at the apartment, but Vic’s has the feel of being at the game. The waitresses were wearing black and white zebra strips. They had venders going between the tables, kind of like in the stands. And there were cheer leaders, so spending $20 was almost like buying a ticket to the game, but $100 cheaper, and without the wind chill factor.

“Besides, it was an easy sell – not like pushing stocks to hedge fund managers at Gouldmann Brokerage,” I thought. “Hey, $20 is small potatoes compared to the $3,500 monthly rent, but at least that was split three ways.”

$3,500 was a good rate for a two-bedroom, non-rent controlled, apartment in SoHo with 1 1/2 bath. Sure, the reserved parking space was extra, but that only mattered to me, since Neil didn’t own a car, and Frank always rode to the job in the company pickup.

Neil was an actor, but preferred to be known as a ‘performance artist’. He was fond of saying, “actors are a shady lot. They spend all their time trying to be someone they are not. John Wilkes Booth was an actor, but I am not anything like him; I can dance; I can sing; I don’t own a gun; and I’m gay.”

That line got him a lot of laughs. Actually, it was only part true – his singing was terrible. Neil spent more time at auditions, and preparing for auditions, than he did acting on stage.

Frank was a painter and apartment remodeler. He worked for several different renovation companies – whoever needed help, paid cash, and provided transportation. Working with his body all day long meant he was a well-muscled hunk – the proverbial ‘chick magnet’. But magnets can work both ways. Not all the girls are attracted to his rugged charm – some are repelled. There are a significant number of girls in New York who are attracted to a good stable provider, which Frank was not. He drank a lot and bet even more. Football was his Achilles heel and he had $100 on the Giants, in spite of the 7 1/2 points handicap given to the Jets. He was also bi-sexual. If he couldn’t get a girl in bed, he wouldn’t mind a blowjob from a ‘limp wrist’ fag, or a Twinkie boi, or a sissy cross dresser, like Neil, for instance.

Not that I have anything against trans-people. Whatever it takes to pay your share of the rent. Truth be known, Neil got as many female parts, as male parts, just as long as he didn’t have to sing. You can disguise your face, but not your voice.

The three of us had a mutual agreement; whoever scored first would get the big fold-out sofa bed in the living room and the others would get the bedrooms. Usually, Frank would pick up a babe for a one-night stand, unless he was too drunk. Neil got his fair share of men, but I – well. I didn’t project masculinity the way Frank did, and I didn’t project a high earning potential, even though I wore a Rolex and drove a BMW. The Rolex wasn’t gold and I can’t park the beamer in a nightclub.

That night, the giants scored and so did Frank, although he wouldn’t get the winnings from his bookie until the next day, he did get a girl, and didn’t have to wait until Tuesday. I made a sketch of what I thought Frank and his new bestie were doing in the living room. I’m not usually a peeping tom, so the sketch is more based on the sounds I heard through the closed door. I know that Frank can be a little rough on the babes he fucks, so that is what I drew.

The week before, Fanny Mae and Freddy Mac had declared bankruptcy and it would take an act of Congress, literally, to fix their problems. However, being an election year, no one in Congress wanted to do anything controversial – like adhere to sound fiscal policy. The closure of Fanny and Freddy would eventually cost the U.S. Treasury nearly $200B. It is widely believed that Fanny folded due to losses in the sub-prime lending market, and Freddy because of the GM and Daimler bankruptcies.


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