Patricia; Doing It For Love

I was out with my wife shopping, an ordeal that I was not really comfortable with, but one that I thought necessary. My wife of five years is drop dead gorgeous, but dresses like a librarian sometimes. She has C cup breasts, a 38/28/38 figure and a face that belongs on the cover of fashion magazines. She was a cosmetologist for a while when we first married and knows how to make the most of what she has been born with. Now she is an executive secretary for a prominent lawyer in town.

With the name of Tiffany, she will always be the focus of my attention, the name just fits her to a tee. She is very confident of herself, a trait that was obvious when she applied for her present job. She runs the lawyer’s office where she works with ease, keeping everything scheduled and right on time. She has been on that job for seven months now and has received three pay raises in that time span. Mr. Lawrence, the lawyer, considers her invaluable and has her sit in on all of his client meetings and depositions.

If I could just get her to dress more sexy and daring when we are out I would be ecstatic. I am proud of her and her beauty, extremely lucky that she chose to be my wife. When I point out a sexy dress and ask if I can purchase it for her, she retreats into her librarian mode, ignoring my requests. I have booked her spa days at salons that are noted for making good looking females utterly gorgeous, but she comes back home pretty much with the same look.

I feel so lucky to have been able to marry her, but wish I could show her off a little, someone so beautiful that dresses more like plain Jane than a sexy female that she is. My wish to show her off, maybe more a desire to compensate for my lack of anything that a female might find appealing. I am five foot nine inches tall, weigh one hundred fifty-five pounds, but from there it goes all downhill. I don’t have a male physique, my shoulders are narrow and the amount of facial hair below my ears would not fill a thimble. The two hairs on my upper lip, a representation of the follicular development on my body. The two individual hairs is not a joke that is all the hair that resides where my beard should be.

My hair on my head is the exception, so thick that it requires constant thinning, an ash blond color, and reaching my shoulder blades. I keep it in a low ponytail all the time to minimize the times that I am referred to in the feminine gender. Yet only a few inches away from all of that hair my two sparsely populated eyebrows scream female. I have been asked by more than a female or two if I pluck my eyebrows, an embarrassing question that brings on the red cheeks and tears to my eyes. To be asked that question by a female kind of tells you what my eyebrows look like.

So yes, the desire to be able to show off my sexy wife, is an effort to over compensate for my lack of masculinity. I just wish she would bend a little to at least meet me half way. Lately I have been encouraging her a little harder to push the envelope, to use a recent expression, but the only concession she has made to me was to buy some sexy panties at Victoria’s Secret. She does wear them quite often, but no one sees them but me. I do appreciate them, all parts of my body standing tall when I get a glimpse as she dresses in the morning.

We had just come out of a bookstore at the mall, leisurely strolling and window shopping as we went. We passed Taylor’s, a local boutique that handled fashions similar to Fredrick’s of Hollywood. I stopped and stared at the window. I knew better than to say anything, too many conversations in the past all ending up the same.

Tiffany comes up to the window to see what I am looking at. “Do you see something that you like, I would be glad to buy you something if you want it?” I turned quickly to see if she was joking, she has never offered anything like this before. I started to say something, but the words failed me. I didn’t want to start an argument again, but I would love to see her in any of the garments in the window.

She grabbed my hand and led me into the shop, walking up to a display of corsets like what was in the window. She looked through the pile picking out a couple of colors, then a couple of panties in the display next to the corsets. As she was picking out colors she would cast a glance at me, to see my expression. At least that was what I presumed she was doing. A sales associate came up to us asking if she could help us. In a normal voice Tiffany told the sales associate that I needed to be measured then I wanted to try on the proper size corset and panties in these colors.

I looked at her, my mouth open and a shortness of breath threatening to make me faint. The sales associate was not bothered in the least by my wife asking for her husband to be measured for ladies undergarments. She smiled at me, then grabbed my hand and led me off to a changing room, while I looked back at Tiffany for some help. There was no help coming from her, although she smiled at me all the way to the changing room. I just plodded along, not willing by any means, but in a daze I soon found myself in the changing room.

The clerk had me remove my clothes except for my briefs, measured my chest, waist and hips. All the time I just stood there confused and lost, but a bright red color displayed from my hair to my groin. She left for a while, then came back with the appropriate sized items. I tried to get her attention but to no avail. I didn’t want to try on the corset, but before any words came out she had it around my waist and was hooking the busk in the front. I really tried hard to convey my jumbled thoughts to her, but she was on a mission. I was spun around and she started tightening the laces, with me still stuttering and trying to form a few words. My mind had absolutely melted, the words did not make sense and for some reason most never made it out of my mouth. It almost felt like my mouth was full of cotton, dry and parched to the extreme.

I was still stunned, when she handed me the matching panties, and then pulled my briefs down my legs. I was facing away from her luckily, but was still highly embarrassed. I quickly tried to pull the panties up my legs trying to maintain some modesty, trying desperately not to trip over my briefs caught around my one ankle and a shoe. I kicked off my shoes, my briefs flying with them over to the corner of the room, allowing me to get the panties up my legs. But before I completed all of this Tiffany came through the dressing room door admiring my new underwear. The red on my face went up another notch, now I feared not having enough blood in my lower extremities to maintain an upright stance. I started to stagger a little, Tiffany grabbing an arm as she was examining my new underwear.

She started touching me all over, feeling the corset and the skin that it pushed up above the top of the corset. Then a hand rubbed over my panties, my erection rising to the attention, my face getting redder. I collapsed on the chair in the dressing room, tears starting to flow. Too much, half naked, dressed in a corset and panties, my wife admiring my feminine underwear, and groping everything she can get hold of.

She kissed me handing me a blouse to put on then a skirt that was way too short. She calmly picked up my clothes, including my briefs and left the room. I tried to follow her until I realized how I was dressed, then retreated to the safety of the room. I tried to call to her but either she was not able to hear me or was ignoring me. I looked at the clothes she handed me, not wanting to put them on, but my options seemed to be severally limited. Tiffany briefly stuck her head in the door, either wait here or get dressed in the skirt and blouse so you can browse the store. I am going next door to get you some shoes, don’t run off dear.

She was giggling as she headed out of the dressing room area, I was so confused. Was this because of me pushing her to try more provocative clothes, if so I am speechless from now on? I was getting chilly, the red from my embarrassment was not keeping my body warm. I pulled on the skirt, fastening the zipper and then swiveling it around till the zipper was in the back. Tiffany had done this quite often, it seemed to be the only way for me to get in the skirt without help from someone, help that I didn’t want to see me dressed this way. I put my arms into the blouse, then pulled them out again, the blouse buttoned up the back, damn Tiffany, I must have stepped way over the line about my wanting her to dress sexier, and this is obviously my punishment for doing so.

I got my arms in the blouse the top button done up and then had to wait for someone to do up the remaining buttons. I was shaking from fear, nothing like this has ever happened, I presumed I had pushed things too far, but was not sure that was the reason for me dressed as a sexy lady. When you are uncomfortable and scared time seems to crawl, I was thinking that Tiffany might leave me here in the store to make her point. My money was in my pants and they were God knows where by now. It seemed to be forever before I heard her voice back in the store. Finally my wife came into the dressing room holding a shoe bag with several pair of shoes in it.

Surely they are not both for me, now something else to worry about. I swear I will never say another word to her about anything that I might desire her to do, if I can just get home and out of these clothes. I was made to try on both pair of shoes, of course she liked the taller heels and they were buckled on to my feet. She did button up my blouse, now I was trapped in the blouse until she could undo it for me, presumably when we get home. I never did see my clothes, my wallet, or keys.

While I was getting used to the heels she paid for my purchases and led me down the mall to a beauty salon. My head swiveling wildly as I looked to see if anybody was staring at me. The sign said Turnabout Gurl, where a male can become a ravishing female. I tried to put on my brakes, definitely not where I want to go, no matter the reason. Surely she wouldn’t take me in there, maybe she was just scaring me some more, I am sure she could smell the anxiety that I was exhibiting. My mind was fried, no rational thoughts possible and I doubt if any blood was circulating as red and hot as my face felt.

Have you tried to resist going somewhere in heels, I could barely walk in them much less try to maneuver in them. I had no traction whatsoever and soon I was set at a manicure table getting my nails done. Not just polish but extensions, long ones. I set there nervous as hell, my fear getting more desperate by the minute. I tried to plead with her, I begged, I promised her anything she wanted, but all I got was a big smile and no comment from her. So I gave in, my nerves were shot, my stomach was doing flip flops, I just knew I was permanently red from embarrassment since more than a few people heard me beg her for some mercy or forgiveness, or anything. The beautician was trying her best to keep from outright laughter listening to my pleas. By the time my manicure was dry the mall was closing up, probably the only thing saving me from more humiliation.

When we got back to the car, I briefly looked for my clothes in the back seat. Nothing, her purse was not big enough for them to fit inside, so in a wimpy little voice asked what happened to my clothes. “Since you are going to be wearing the provocative clothes now, you have no need for them so I threw them out. We will talk more when we get home, I suggest you prepare yourself for some difficult times ahead.” I kept quiet, now something else to try and figure out. I had no idea what she is talking about, but I doubted it was something I would embrace.

We got home and she got the car door for me, then held the front door as I entered. Her actions were not lost on me, she is treating me exactly like a female. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut the last few months, now I will be paying for those remarks forever. She had me sit in the living room on the couch, made me get up and sit down again after I had smoothed my skirt to make sure all the wrinkles were out. She got us some canned pop and came and set right across from me, mine a diet variety to help with my figure.

“I have listened to you for months, about how I dress, that I could do more to please you. Tonight at the mall I had an epiphany, I can buy you the items you want me to wear and you can show me how easy it is, to be dressed as you want me to dress for you. By doing it this way I will be able to see the errors in my thinking and you will succeed in your wishes. So a simple way to settle things amicably, you being the more fashion conscious person of the group can teach me how it is done and relish in your ability to turn heads in your performance of these tasks at the same time.

Now I have made another appointment at the salon in the morning, for them to finish their conversion of you to the fairer sex. Since all of this is about wearing sexier, up to date fashionable clothes you have to have the perfect figure before you can show me the errors of my ways. Nothing to it, they will do all the work, you just have to let them mold you to your ideal of the perfect female. I know at times you suffer from temporary memory loss so I have already filled them in on what you desire, the same things that you have asked me to do for you. I think that is somewhat fitting don’t you.

I am locking your closets and dresser up, no male clothes at all. I am sure you wouldn’t want to slip back into old habits or fashions that are not current and sexy. I have also informed your Mother of your temporary gender change so she will be available if you suddenly need some advice on makeup or hair. You do not have to thank me, it is the least a loving spouse can do for their significant other.

I tried to process all that she had told me, another appointment to finish the job, telling my mother about all of this. Those were the two points that wedged in my mind preventing any further rational thought. It wasn’t haphazard, she had apparently been planning this for some time or she had ideas on what might show me the errors of my way, I simply provided the situation to get it all started.

In the chest of drawers is your new underwear, top drawer and in my closet are two outfits you can wear until we go shopping for you. Under your pillow is your negligee for tonight, so if you want to change now, let me help you get your buttons undone on the blouse. I stood there as she released me from the blouse, a most unsatisfactory feeling for a male. I did receive a kiss on the lips, something that I used to do to her after helping her with her clothes. Again something I recognized from times past. I have really stepped into it big time, I doubt there will be a satisfactory conclusion anytime soon, at least one that I might be able to live with.

While I was removing the feminine clothes, then slipping on the nightie I doubted I could feel more ashamed or embarrassed. The nightie made my body betray me, the shivers of delight as it slid down my body almost causing me to lose my balance in the heels. I tried to get the buckles undone on the heels but with my new nails that was totally impossible. Tiffany did help get them unbuckled but her rubbing of my smooth legs was not needed or desired. I shivered at the feelings as she ran her hand up and down on my calves. I brushed my teeth and brushed my hair, putting it back in a ponytail. I was half way to the bed when I realized I never even tried to get out of the corset.

Unfortunately Tiffany noticed this too, a huge smile appearing in her face. “I see you love your corset, we will make sure that we get you more tomorrow. The salon appointment will be finished by three, I will be there to see the new you, than we can go shopping to get your dream wardrobe. Don’t worry, I have set aside plenty of money to get you a complete wardrobe, nothing to be spared for my lover and wife. First thing in the morning we will pack up all your male clothes then after lunch I will get them to Goodwill, something you can be proud of, your old clothes helping some male to look his best.

As soon as I sat down on the bed I was leaned back and embraced, her tongue more than making itself known as to intent and purpose. Within seconds I lost all train of thought, my sensations of being kissed so erotically, overcame any thought that I might have been able to put together. I did manage to get my arms around her pulling her closer to me, the feeling as her pointy nipples came up against my chest just about sent me over the edge. As I got more excited I had to slow down, the corset restricting my air intake some, my mind had me wishing for more touching, but not able to handle what I was receiving now.

Things finally calmed down some, I found myself staring at the ceiling wondering how I ended up in this predicament. After mulling it over I realized I had done this to myself. Constantly reminding her of what I desired of her, she had just applied the same thing I desired of her to me. There problem solved, I will be the sexy more beautiful wife, and she can be who she wants to be. If only I had used a little restraint, I might have found myself other than restrained in a corset, decked out like a beautiful woman, scheduled to be made fully female tomorrow morning.

I guess I could put a stop to it now, put my foot down and stop all this silliness, but to what good would that do. She had side stepped my requests, if I stopped all of this I would never be able to bring up my requests again. If I went through with all of this I might be able to coerce her into some of my requests later, as she wouldn’t want to look less feminine than me. Yeah, what a pipe dream that is. A normal aggressive macho male I am not, in fact I doubted I was anything normal. I was still trying to put two thoughts together, so much to think about and the sensations affecting my body almost impossible to ignore.

Sleep that night was not fast coming or very long lasting. I was awake, then dozed off to be woken again by someone’s hands on my member. A few rubs and I was wide wake as she rolled over to go back to sleep. I indeed remembered doing that to her breasts many nights, now all of these paybacks were delivered in one huge package, one that I seemed to not have any choice in accepting. Staring at the ceiling I decided to reason with her in the morning, I would apologize, even beg if necessary to get this to stop. Then the fact that my male clothes would be hauled off tomorrow, re-entered my mind. I sure hope I can convince her that I am sorry.

It was after two in the morning before she quit reminding me of her presence. I did get some sleep, the dream I had very disturbing, but hard to remember much about it. I was in dresses in the dream that much I did recall. Tiffany was already up and dressed, applying her makeup in the bathroom. When she was done she came to the edge of the bed and threw back the sheets. I was hauled out of the bed and the negligee hoisted over my head. A sweat suit top was lowered over my head, my hair brushed into a ponytail and the matching pants were handed to me. I slipped them up my legs trying to apologize to Tiffany. She handed me her flip flops and started dragging me to the front door. I did my best to resist, but in the sandals I couldn’t get her to stop.

Out the door and towards her car. As we passed the back porch I saw boxes of my male clothes stacked waiting to be picked up. Tiffany can be a force to be reckoned with, I presume I have met my match, and she has accomplished what she wanted. I tried to apologize again, but she wasn’t even interested in my mumblings.

She opened the passenger door, got me inside and the seat belt buckled then came around to the driver side. She leaned over and shut me up with her kiss, then backed out and headed to town. Back to the salon, this time I had no choice. She reminded me that she had my wallet, keys, and that I had no transportation since she had brought me to the salon. Do as they say or I will carry this further than you might want to go. She came around, opened my door as I was trying to get the seat belt unbuckled, leaned in and gave me the most erotic toe curling kiss I have ever experienced. In shock, I was helped out of the car and into the salon. One more kiss, this one more mundane and she was gone.

So much for my apologies this morning, Tiffany is having way too much fun at my expense to stop or even slow things down. The receptionist asked my name I told her Pat, she looked down her list of appointments, until she found Patricia. Come this way and I was led to a treatment room. Another one of their techs assisted me in removing my clothes, then laid me on a table. A cream was slathered over my front side, groin included. After thirty minutes it was wiped off along with all my hair. I never had much body hair to start with, now I was to have none. It was particularly noticeable around my male organ. Without his camouflage he looked shrunken and utterly pathetic. I was helped onto my stomach and the back side was handled the same way. It suddenly became drafty, the air from the overhead fan doing a job on my new sensitive skin.

Feet up in stirrups, and soon they were spread wide apart. My male organ was tucked away, and then a silicone vulva was glued over it making my male sex now lost to me. How was I going to have sex with Tiffany, did she want this, was what I did so bad that this is my punishment? Essentially I had been castrated, my male organ now no longer able to function. Too many unanswered questions remained, Tiffany unavailable to fill me in on why. I was quiet for some time, way too much to think about, maybe a simple apology not enough for this situation anymore.

The day proceeded in the same manner. Each new treatment making me that much more feminine. After the fake vagina, my breasts were next, or to be more correct my lack of breasts was next to be handled. Two formidable sized cups were glued to my chest, hoses were attached and soon extra skin on my chest was being sucked into those cups. Some fatty tissue was introduced into the cups by a syringe, when the cups started heating up the fatty substance was absorbed into my body. I had a bad feeling about where it might end up at.

While the pump was doing its thing, my ears were pierced, my eyebrows eliminated or nearly so, and my fingers now sported longer nail extensions than was applied last night. These were glued on with an adhesive that bonded the nail to my own nail until they grew out. A bright coral red polish was applied after they were sealed with a base coat, then after the three layers of colored polish a clear topcoat made them shine ridiculously. Of course, my toes to match my fingers, thankfully no extensions there.

Once my breasts were nearing the appropriate size the pump was shut off, after nearly five hours of sucking. The hoses disconnected and I was moved to a stylist’s chair. There my hair was shampooed and conditioned then cut into a feminine style. Curlers were next, some liquid spayed on the hair before the curler was wound tight. The number of curlers was way more than I thought possible, followed by a stint under a hot hair dryer. The hairstyle turned out to be an ultra-feminine one, apparently I am only to receive treatments to make me over the top girly.

Some mild heat was applied to the breast cups, causing them to soften some and I was handed a very lacy bra. The color surprised me, a light green the lace trimming the bra a green and cream combo that looked so feminine. I had to have help to get it on, no way would my arms bend far enough to hook the back of the bra, then my long fingernails would be of no help if I did get my hands back there to start with.

The bra was comforting, cupping my new breasts and easing the strain on my shoulders. The breasts were heavier than I thought, once in the cups of the bra, the straps of the bra became taught. The forms would dissolve themselves after a few days leaving me with soft luscious breasts, not something I have ever wished for or wanted. Well I had hopes of Tiffany sporting some this size, now the opposite is true.

Since what I wanted didn’t seem to matter, the panties, lacy and very minimal, but not quite a thong were slid up my legs and a garter belt in a matching apple green was buckled behind me, the stockings, almost totally sheer were attached to the garters making the lingerie portion of my clothing complete. I did smile a little, the corset was apparently forgotten, something I was quite happy about. But alas, a new frillier one was brought out, again in a light green color, delicate and lacy, but after it was cinched up grabbing my mid-section like a vice. I was now back to struggling to get a breath to my lungs, only small gasps possible.

The clothes laid out for me made me step back. A short Ivory mini-skirt with an almost see through lace blouse to match. My lacy bra showing quite clearly through the lace. A pair of four inch pumps completed the outfit, making my legs look slender and dainty, but almost impossible to stand and walk in.

I was beat, Tiffany had won, now she had systemically turned everything I had suggested to her over the years against me. I was now the epitome of my desires for her. Everything I had wanted for her I now possessed, no sign of anything masculine left in my image. Ginny, my stylist was making some adjustments to my makeup as Tiffany entered the salon, some seven hours after she had dropped me off. She walked right up to me, took me in her arms and kissed me hard. The kiss lasted much longer than any previous kiss between us, I am not sure why. I am not complaining though.

Ginny handed me a compact and the lipstick suggesting that I fix my lips. Tiffany paid at the front returning to lead me away. I was taken to her car, and helped in. She drove us to a restaurant that we quite often dined at, her friend Melissa the hostess there. I was going to beg to not be displayed this way, but realized my chances of her relenting were nil, so I meekly followed Tiffany into the restaurant. I had forgotten Melissa worked there until I saw her behind the small check in desk. They greeted each other, exchanging hugs, with Melissa giving me a careful appraisal. She showed us to a table, out of the main stream, for that I was thankful. She pulled my chair for me, grinning from ear to ear. No comments were made, she had other guests appear so she made her way back to handle them. Meanwhile, I was beet red from embarrassment.

Tiffany ordered for me, for which I was appreciative. I am not sure how feminine my voice sounded, definitely not wanting any more attention shed on me. The day’s activities with the corset cinched so tight had pretty much diminished my appetite, now I was just moving my food around on my plate, something Tiffany often did when we ate out. Tiffany’s eyes often focused on me, I was not sure whether she liked me this way, or was relishing her new control over me. We eventually finished our meals, well she did, I still had half of mine on my plate. She paid the check, getting what I didn’t eat in a takeout container.

I was led to the car, as she got my door for me, then helped buckle my seat belt with a searing kiss as she finished. It felt kind of nice to be cared for, a feeling I have never experienced before. Even as a child my parents, didn’t do anything other than the basics. Food, clothes and a roof over my head, were all furnished but the emotional caring never materialized. I guessed they loved me in some way, but it was never shown in any physical way. No hugs, kisses, not even a pat on the head when I excelled in school.

Tiffany’s actions toward me since I was feminized really affected me deep inside. A warm gooey feeling that spread to all parts of my body. She pulled into the garage, turned off the car and leaned over to hug me. She managed to get my seat belt undone, dragging me closer to her. Her arms around me holding me tight and her lips leaving little kisses all over my face. It felt so good, I could sit with her all night like this. She released me, walked around to get my door, then grabbed one of my wrists to help me out of the car. I don’t know why I just sat there waiting for her to come around and get my door. I usually just get out on my own, never needing help before. Maybe it is the breasts that I now have on my body, can something that is sucked from my body affect my thinking so much that I just revert to the feminine choices by default?

Who knows? I was led inside and right to our bedroom. We have a love seat at one end of the bedroom in an alcove with windows looking out into our back yard. I was seated there and told to relax. She headed off to the kitchen, in pursuit of something. A short time later she returned with two glasses of iced tea. She set them on the coffee table in front of the love seat and sat right next to me. She took one of my hands holding it with both of hers.

“I did this originally to try and get you to see what your requests of me meant in my life. I knew you never considered how I might feel decked out like you wanted me to look act and dress. It was an effort to get you to see that your wishes when applied to someone you love take on different meanings. The larger breasts the main concern. Yes it would add to my looks, making me sexier, but also bringing unwanted attention to me when you are not around.”

“A female with prominent breasts gets a lot of looks, sometimes even a grope or two, especially if her husband or boyfriend is not around. Some females desire that kind of attention, but to me it is degrading. I am fairly intelligent, and can handle business affairs with ease. Dressing provocatively makes everyone think that I have no business skills, just tits and ass to entertain some male fantasy. After we left the salon you were ogled several times. Nobody thought you looked intelligent or capable, just that you had a great set of hooters, and would probably make a good lay.”

“Now that you are decked out as you wanted me to be, do you still think it is such a wise idea. Let’s try your way for a month or two, maybe you are right only time will tell. Since I have you dressed so provocatively I do like you better this way, maybe we can make this a permanent arrangement, I will earn the big bucks and you can be the sexy wife and lover. Just thinking about this makes me wet, I will make a point to be home early knowing that my sexy lover is waiting for me. I will need to buy a special little toy for my beloved, maybe you can go with me to pick it out. I definitely do not want to get the wrong size.”

Well that caused me to go instant red, but surprisingly my feeble mind did see some interesting possibilities in that idea. Oh gawd, will I be able to live like this, my little man twitching below my new female sex was trying his best to communicate his approval of all of this. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, dressed to the nines every day and doing it for love.

Speaking of love, Tiffany was really getting into the idea of me being the female that I had wanted for her. That love surfaced quickly in shopping for clothes, the same clothes that I wanted to get for her before all of this got started. I quickly found out she has an excellent memory, every request I had brought up to her had been memorized and cataloged along with the exact store that offered it for sale. Over the next few days, my wardrobe expanded exponentially as all the items were purchased in my size and in the most feminine colors imaginable.

While at the salon again for some needed touch up Tiffany and some helpers moved the boxes of clothes to her car. When she came to pick me up she had made a stop, my male clothes now dropped off to Goodwill. She showed me the donation slip, the items would be sold to provide employment for the disadvantaged and I now had a tax deduction for this year’s income tax. Yeah at a time like this, who in the hell is concerned about taxes.

I did the best that I could to keep her satisfied, dressing in the clothes she had bought me and being the sexy wife for her. I would work all afternoon on making a dinner for her that she might appreciate, then after cleaning up spent most of the evening trying to please her in bed.

I quickly assumed all the household chores, the least I can do for my lover. It took me a few days to get the hang of it, several mistakes made that I learned from. Putting light and dark clothes together in the washing machine one of my first lessons. The resulting pink garments not necessarily what one might wear. I burned several dishes I was trying to prepare, but eventually I was able to put a nice dinner on the table that she eagerly consumed. The fact that she did not have to shop for the ingredients or cook it that much better.

Tonight when she got home she had three more bags of clothes for me, I tried to hide my smile, wondering what she got me this time. Maybe being the wife and lover won’t be that bad, so far the clothes are scrumptious and so sexy. I did learn my lesson, a couple of weeks out and about as Patricia proved that all she had mentioned as reasons she did not want to experience my desires were driven home dramatically. An example would be grocery shopping. On a weekend I dreaded it with a passion, since a lot of males used that time to shop. I was ogled, stared at and made quite uncomfortable by the attention my larger than average breasts brought to me. Her point proven in spades.

I did enjoy taking care of her, it was satisfying and made me feel wanted and loved. I knew I never did express my thanks for all she did for me enough, once in her shoes I realized my shortcomings. Doing it for love became my mantra, I so loved her and tried to show it in my actions every day.

We did try it for the full month, then another living room talk. Tiffany started the discussion while I just set there trying to put some words to my thoughts. Well Patricia you have succeeded in proving me wrong. You handled yourself well considering that I pretty much just dropped you in this without any forewarning or notice. Even though you have suffered a little at the attention from the males you have handled it easily and without making a big deal out of it. You have learned from your mistakes and made a wonderful wife for your loving spouse. I admit defeat, I will do quite a few of the things you have desired of me, maybe not everything but I can see where some of the things would enhance your enjoyment of my appearance.

Now we come to you, I know I have been unfair to you, pushing a lot of things on you that were not really necessary to prove my point. My problem is that I now desire you all frilly and feminine, being able to come home to you and share my work day with you. Having a nice meal waiting and knowing that I can have my way with you afterward is pure heaven. I have always enjoyed my job, but now I watch the clock, waiting for quitting time so that I can head home, spending time with you now the most important part of my day. I hope you will consider staying as Patricia for me, I love you so much, often I spend the afternoon dreaming of you and what I can do to you when I get home.

I sat there looking into her eyes. All I see is the female I fell in love with, whether I am dressed as a male or female makes no difference to me. I love the clothes, the pampering and being able to show my love to my spouse every day whether it is in how I look, or the meal I prepare, or the house I keep clean and comfy for her. I swallowed hard, yes Patricia is here to stay, she is doing it for love, a love that will last forever. We kissed, a deep meaningful kiss that seemed to go on and on.

Story Complete For Now

© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker

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