Editing and inspiration from Chrissy B, a true BFF
The first email I received was a shock. It was addressed to Christy. I looked at what email account I had signed on to, then took a deep breath. Someone knew about Christy and had sent an email to my male email account.
Don’t you just love the new spring fashions? The sundresses are to just die for! Hope to see you in one soon.
I re-read it five times, trying to believe that it was just a mistake. Someone getting the wrong email address… yeah, that was what had happened. I quickly deleted it and made sure my cache was empty. If my wife Michelle stumbled upon that, I might have some serious explaining to do, something I desperately wanted to avoid at all costs. I knew Michelle was very open minded, but I doubted that it would extend to her husband dressing as a woman; often times in some of her clothes.
Two days later, I found out it was not a mistake.
Another email to Christy, to the same email account. The details in this one proving that they knew that Christy and Calvin were the same person. This one demanded that I take a selfie dressed as Christy and send it to the email address listed above. It was a Gmail address, so that was no help in determining who my potential stalker was. Although they didn’t exactly fit the description of a stalker yet, I was afraid they might just become one. There was a deadline: five o’clock tomorrow afternoon. No threat as to what would be done if I didn’t comply, just a few words stating that it would not be wise to fail to send the selfie.
I wrote down the address and deleted the email. This was getting serious and I didn’t have a clue how to resolve it. I worried all afternoon as to how I was going to handle this.
I usually dressed when Michelle was away on business, something she did about every other week. She was a consultant for small businesses, specializing in business licenses, insurance and other legal matters. She was very good at her job, recommended by lots of her previous customers. In most instances, she was able to save them a lot of money or time. She knew the shortcuts to get around all of the red tape; licenses that usually took weeks were obtained in days. Consequently, there seemed to be no lack of new customers or referrals for her.
This time luck was with me: she would be over in a nearby town all afternoon tomorrow, not getting back until late. The town was about seventy miles away, so I was sure that I would have enough time to get dressed, take the selfie, and then quickly put everything away.
The next day I was a bundle of nerves. Finally, Michele left a little after one PM. I received a goodbye kiss, filled with passion and watched as she left with a smirk on her face.
I waited to make sure she had not forgotten anything, not wanting to get caught when she came back to pick up something she had left behind. I removed my stash from its hiding spot and quickly got dressed. I had my own underwear, obtained off the internet, and a few items that I had found in some local charity shops. The rest, I borrowed from my wife, being careful to note how they were placed in her drawer or closet before I actually wore them. I made sure they were replaced exactly the same way, for fear of her finding out I had been in her things.
I toned it down, not wanting a picture of me all dolled up available to be spread around. A little black dress, conservative in nature, was my choice, a favorite of my wife’s. I donned my wig then added mascara and lipstick. A pair of clip on earrings and a pair of ladies’ flats completed the look. I took the picture; in fact, three of them to make sure I had one that would satisfy the request. I wasn’t even sure what exactly that entailed, though.
I uploaded the one I thought best to my computer, then attached it to an email. Nothing else said. I hoped this would not escalate, thinking that if I said very little maybe, this would not get out of control. I hit send, then rushed to get my clothes off and cleaned up. It was at this point I remembered the dress that I had chosen. One of my wife’s favorites; one that she would instantly recognize. It was too late now. Gawd, how could I be so dumb? Don’t answer that.
As I was putting my things away I heard the front door close – oh, shit, Michelle was back already. I hurriedly put my box of goodies on the top shelf in the closet and ran for the bathroom, my makeup now the problem. I managed to get it removed, took a look in the mirror, then discovered my earrings were still on my ears. I grabbed them, jerking them off just as the bathroom door opened. I winced as jerking them off like that hurt like hell. Typical for clip-on earrings. I held them in my hand, looking at my clenched fist to make sure they were not visible.
I got a kiss, something she always did when she got home. She licked her lips and I quickly glanced at the mirror trying to see if I had missed some lipstick. I sighed; they looked alright. My stomach was churning wildly, my nerves were on edge and beads of perspiration were beginning to form on my forehead. I got another quick kiss on the lips; she licked her lips again, then trotted off to fix something to eat. I took another look in the mirror, worried why she was licking her lips after kissing me. I was just about ready to puke, the churning in my stomach was almost to the eruption stage, my nerves strung oh so tight. I lay down on the bed for a few minutes, taking deep breaths and hoping things would settle down.
Twenty minutes later, I heard Michelle call me, so I got up and headed for the hallway. I was almost to the door when I dropped the earrings I was holding in my hand, forgetting they were there. I scooped them up, then buried them in the bottom of my underwear drawer. Another deep breath, then I headed to the kitchen.
We had already decided on just sandwiches tonight, neither of us feeling like cooking. She asked what I had been up to that afternoon, pausing and waiting for me to respond. I told her I’d just been reading a couple of trade magazines and doing a little walking. I was trying to lose some weight, the walking being a part of that scenario for a while. I had been doing the walking for a whole three weeks now: no weight loss yet, but I had high hopes.
I got a couple of funny looks from her, but nothing more was said. We finished our sandwiches and I volunteered to clean up, something I seldom did. She put her hand on my forehead to make sure I was not sick, checking to see if I was running a fever, then kissed me on the lips again. Right afterwards, she licked her lips again, then leaned forward to partake of the treat once more. Again the licking of the lips, then she headed off to the bedroom. I headed to the sink, quickly disposing of the few dirty dishes there. I cleared the counter, making sure the kitchen looked neat and then turned off the light.
I then retreated to the living room, the more distance between us the better for now. I rubbed my lips with my finger then tasted it to see why she was licking her lips after every kiss. There was a softness that was not usually there, my lips also felt a little plumper than normal. Then it dawned on me – the lipstick I’d used was a lip plumper blend. Even though the color was gone, I imagined my lips were softer and thicker. A mistake on my part, seemingly at the worst time for sure. Gawd, could anything more go wrong today? I hoped she didn’t ask any more questions since I hadn’t an answer to explain my plumper and softer lips. I don’t think telling her it was my new lipstick would fly.
I escaped any further angst that evening, but her assault on my lips carried on well into the night once we were in bed. No comments, but almost constant lip lock until she wore herself down and fell asleep holding me tight to her body. The next morning as she went off to work, I checked my email to see if there were any more surprises. I let out a breath I was holding when there were no emails for Christy.
While Michelle went to an office most days, I worked from home. I built custom sensors for security installations. These were special sensors to handle blind spots and other hard to reach areas. I got a pretty penny for them and usually had way more business than I could keep up with.
The next two days were uneventful. I got caught up on my work and luckily had no more emails to show up. Then, bright and early Friday, there were two emails waiting for me, all from the same person. Up to now, they had not signed their name to the emails, but today that changed. The emails were signed Christy’s BFF. I laughed at the signature, yeah, some friend.
The first email thanked me for sending the picture as per their request. The second one showed that same picture photo shopped. I took in a big breath. The dress was cut lower, the hem way above the knee, and my fingernails had extensions and were painted a bright red. The shoes I was wearing had high heels and matched the polish on my fingernails. My hair style was longer, curly and sported several red ribbons to keep it out of my face.
The disturbing part of that email was a list of friends, relatives and work colleagues that this picture would be sent to if I didn’t do exactly as I was told. I looked again at the picture and the name Christy that was below it; right next to that name was ‘AKA Calvin’. That was done in my own handwriting, like I had signed the bottom of the picture.
I put my face in my hands and cried, something I hadn’t done in years. I deleted both emails, even reformatted my hard drive trying to somehow stop these emails. Yeah, I knew it wouldn’t stop the emails, but it did occupy a little of my time doing it, a diversion of sorts. I worried all afternoon about everything. I did not get any of my work done, even though I started on it several times. I couldn’t concentrate, hell, I doubt I could have told you my name at that moment.
I was nervous that evening when Michelle showed up. I think she could sense the change in me, but never brought it up, a small mercy for which I was very thankful. I was quiet all evening; every moment, my mind was trying to figure out what to do. I got a lot of attention from Michelle, some kissing, but no licking of the lips. In bed, I was held tightly again, all night long, having to struggle to get out of her grasp when I had to go to the bathroom. We cuddled a lot, but she had never held on to me as tightly as she was doing last night.
The next morning, after she had left for work, I cautiously opened my emails and sank back in the chair. Another damn email, this one quite long with specific instructions. I read it many times, shaking my head at its contents, but eventually writing down what I had to do.
I had considered ignoring the emails, not doing as they requested, but the look that I visualized on Michelle’s face when all of this came to light quickly had me figuring out how I could do as requested. We had been married for four years now, four very happy years as far as I knew. I had bought us a house, one that she had customized to make it her ideal home. Just last month, I had managed to pay off what little we owed on it, so we were pretty much set for life. Children had been postponed for our later years; since we were both in our early twenties, there was plenty of time for them later.
I think she felt the same about me, although figuring out exactly what a woman is thinking is risky at best. At least her actions said she loved me unequivocally. I wasn’t sure that would hold up once she found out I was dressing in female clothes and portraying a woman every chance I got. My failure to tell her about this raised the stakes past the normal interaction of two lovers. Now I was lying to her, doing something behind her back. I knew of several relationships where the husband had been caught lying to the wife; those marriages were no longer intact.
The instructions were for me to go to a particular salon in town and ask for every hair on my body to be removed below the hair on top of my head. My ‘stalker’ had conveniently arranged an appointment for me; all I had to do was show up and let them do their job. The appointment was for ten AM the next day, so I had very little time to worry about it.
Sleep that night was sporadic, waking up several times shaking from a bad case of nerves. On each occasion I had to head off to the bathroom to settle my nerves. I was afraid if Michelle woke, I would have many more questions to answer to. I did make it through the night; several close calls, but she stayed asleep and I was able to return to bed, my nerves calmed down somewhat.
The next day, I gave Michelle an extra hug and long sensuous kiss, fearing that when she saw me later, our loving relationship would crumble away.
The trek to the salon was pure agony; nerves and a very upset stomach, very hard to deal with. I was met at reception and taken back to a private room at the back of the salon. Calvin was the name on the appointment list and I was expected. I tried to find out who had arranged my appointment; maybe I could determine who was making my life miserable and put an end to this. All the tech could tell me was that the appointment was paid for in advance and what was to be done.
Nora, the tech who would be doing my hair removal, was courteous and after explaining what she was going to do, quickly got to work. She used a cream that would dissolve the hair and its root, so further hair removal would not be necessary. My back was handled first, with even my rear end receiving attention, much to my embarrassment. Then I was flipped over and the cream was applied to my front side. Even ‘junior’ was bathed in the cream, by the time I realized it had been done, it was too late.
That small fact might be kind of hard to explain to Michelle, the hair around my male organ a favourite spot for her to play with. When we were engaged in bedroom activities late at night she would wrap a tuft of hair around her finger and then pull it taut. Now there was nothing there for her to play with and according to Nora, there never would be any there in the future. I closed my eyes trying to think of an explanation that she might believe. Nope, nothing I could think of would be believed, laughed at maybe, but not believed.
After Nora had finished, she spread a moisturising cream all over my body. Her massaging it in put me into a restful slumber. I did stir a little when the massage ended. It had felt so good, the feelings causing little pimples to sprout all over my body. My skin seemed so soft now, almost super sensitive.
I awoke to her wiping my eyebrows with a towel, then the same cream to moisturise. My eyes opened wide and I stared at the mirror in front of me. Too late: I now had no eyebrows; worse yet was that I would never have any in the future. Nora had mentioned that the cream she was instructed to use on my body would not require a follow up. Hair free for the rest of my life. I was not sure how I felt about that, but it was too late to do anything about it now. With me focused on my lack of eyebrows, I didn’t notice her slathering the cream all over my beard area. I never had much in the way of a beard, but no matter now, I would have a smooth clean face from now on.
Being hair free changed my appearance. A lot of my masculinity left with the eyebrows, but not having any hair on my arms and legs made me look dainty and feminine. Even though my beard never was very noticeable on my face, the lack of anything there now spoke volumes about my feminine looks. Now what Michelle would think of me took priority. I could see my marriage ending, she married a male not a half male half female individual. Looking at my image in the mirror even the half male part was now seriously in doubt.
Nora did pencil in some definitely feminine brows; I just sat and watched, not sure what to do to make it any better. I must have stared at the mirror in front of me for an eternity, finally Nora asked if I was alright. I muttered something, thanking her for her help. I wasn’t sure why I thanked her; her help likely to be nothing but trouble for me, lots of trouble.
In a daze, I went to the front to pay, but I found out that my bill had already been handled. A ‘duh’ moment; Nora had already told me that today’s appointment had been paid in advance. I guess when things start to go bad, normal thought processes cease to exist. I made my way to the front door, then my mind caught up with the feelings that my skin was transmitting to my mind. My whole body was tingling as my clothes slid over my now hairless skin. More goose pimples sprouted on my body, causing me to lose focus on what I was doing. I ended up walking right past my car in the parking lot the first time, since everything was so sensual and mind numbing. It was like I couldn’t concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds, the feelings coming from my now hairless body overriding everything else.
I did make it home eventually after I found my car in the salon parking lot. I was out of it mentally, even regular thoughts seemed fuzzy. I entered the house, deposited the mail that I had picked up as I came in and made my way to the kitchen. Picking up the mail from the mailbox was just something done automatically, not a conscious action. If I had to think about it, it would still be in the mailbox.
I debated making myself a stiff drink, but since I was already acting like I had too many, that idea was shelved. I settled for a diet drink, taking a sip and wishing I hadn’t. How can people drink that stuff? Michelle loved the stuff, drinking one every chance she got. It took three glasses of water to get the taste out of my mouth. So much for drowning my worries in drink.
I debated on what to do next, then figured I’d better make sure the house was picked up. I had no clue why that thought entered my mind, I had never been concerned about how the house looked up to now. Any brownie points that I might get would probably come in handy.
An hour later the house was cleaner than it had been in months, visibly cleaner. While I was picking up things, any mirror I passed was used to check my appearance. Most of the time, I focused on my lack of eyebrows, but then on one of the passes, I noticed that my arms looked more slender, the lack of hair made them look smaller and more feminine. Like I had thought before, they seemed almost dainty. I was not a male with any kind of a muscular body; in fact, the opposite would be closer to the truth. Making sensors and a lifetime of no sporting activity does not lend itself to developing anything that resembles a muscle. I made my way to our bedroom, finding a long sleeve sweat shirt to cover up my bare arms. The fact that it was warm in the house made the sweatshirt idea kind of ridiculous.
Other than her female secondary sexual characteristics, Michelle and I had bodies that were quite similar. Thin arms and legs, narrow shoulders, a thin waist and very little in the hip department were common to both of us. Of course, Michelle was happy for the lack of development in the hips, her C cup breasts more than making up for any supposed lacking in the hip department.
I decided to start dinner. A roast was what we had planned and it was already defrosted, waiting to be put in the slow cooker. That handled plus the necessary vegetables, I turned the cooker on high, cutting the cooking time to less than three hours. I went to work on a few orders that had come in last night. I was still not focused; a project that would usually take a half hour was barely completed an hour later. It wasn’t just taking longer, I had made several mistakes and had to redo several of the sensors. I purposefully avoided checking my emails, my heart couldn’t handle any more stress right now.
Michelle came in a few minutes after five, bubbly and obviously excited. I got kissed as she parked her fanny on my lap, her hands looking for my equipment in my pants. I had just got back from the kitchen where I had turned off the slow cooker. Then she noticed my lack of eyebrows. Nothing was said right away, though she did evaluate the situation very carefully. She did run her finger over where they used to be, giving me a quizzical look while doing so.
About that time, one of her hands snaked its way under my shirt, her fingers rubbing my now smooth stomach. I was jerked to my feet and dragged to our bedroom. She undressed me, rather quickly and forcefully. I tried to delay the inevitable, but my hands were swatted and I was told to stand still.
With my clothes strewn all over the floor, I was carefully appraised. Several times I tried to cover myself some, my face already bright red and getting redder by the minute. Each time my hands were put back at my sides and she moved closer to inspect the merchandise. Then she pushed me back onto the bed and attacked me. I was kissed by her mouth while my breasts were squeezed by one hand, the other grabbing my penis and quickly pumping it up and down. I arched my back, my whole body suddenly convulsing as she manipulated me. When I eventually became aware of where I was and what had happened she was riding me, my male organ deep in her female sex. Both of her hands were on my breasts, squeezing and pulling on the nipples.
We collapsed in each other’s arms, her holding on to me with a death grip. I awoke later still being held tightly, with her face just inches from my face her smirk large and devious. Realizing what time it was I was stunned. Shit, we had played all night long. Well, Michelle played and I tried to stay conscious. I have never in my life came so many times, losing count after the first hour.
She looked at the clock as the alarm went off, then groaned and went to get her shower. She returned partially dressed, gave me an earth shattering kiss and then went to her closet and finished dressing. Another kiss just as stimulating and she was out the door. Her last words were, “We need to talk tonight, I’ll be home early.” I was still setting on the edge of the bed, naked as the day I was born, and savouring the kisses that I just received.
As I made my way to the kitchen, I saw last night’s meal still in the slow cooker. I was glad that I had turned it off when she got home. Well, at least I would not have to cook anything for tonight. I checked to make sure it was alright, the food still warm and the meat just melting in the mouth. I decided to leave it for later, although I did clean up the kitchen some from last night’s dinner preparation.
I checked to see if I had received any new orders, then hesitatingly checked my emails. Damn, another blasted email. This one specified another task I had to accomplish. This time, I had to make my own appointment, the email giving me three days to get the task taken care of. All afternoon I worried; this was escalating faster than I thought it would. I was not sure where and if it would end. I couldn’t see Michelle ignoring this latest task I was asked to do; I guess Lady Luck was with me last night, as the sex we shared was mind numbing. She was so turned on, I doubted that she had time to realize just how far my lack of body hair extended. The fact that I would be this way for the rest of my life was not even taken into consideration.
I called the salon, sure that they would be able to help me. Sure enough, they indeed performed the treatment; it would require a three hour appointment and they could work me in tomorrow at four PM. I asked if they didn’t have any earlier appointments, but she said they were booked up, this particular treatment being quite popular. Starting this late, I would not be done till seven PM. I accepted the appointment, not sure how I was going to attend and not let Michelle know what I was doing. Of course, if she saw me she would instantly know what I had done anyway.
I reread the email for the fifth time. Now that everything was setup, all I had to do was gather up enough nerve to actually have it done. I looked at the email one more time and let the words sink in.
Make an appointment to have you hair highlighted, blonde highlights for your brunette hair. Also get a permanent so that your new curls will be easy to fashion into a girly style. Have all of this done by Friday at five PM, a selfie as you are leaving the salon to prove it was accomplished is necessary sent to the usual email address.
I knew that my marriage would be over: this was too visible and definitely girly for anyone to just ignore what was happening. I shed quite a few tears later, my whole life was coming apart and there was nothing I could do without making things a lot worse. I was in a daze the rest of the day, not aware of what was happening around me, just staring out of our window and feeling sorry for myself. I did get last night’s meal warmed up before she came home. The meal was eaten in silence; I was so wrapped in my own troubles that conversation was impossible. Michelle sensed something was wrong, but did not ask what.
The talk for this evening was postponed. I am not sure who made that decision, but I was grateful. She just spent the time holding me and comforting me. There was no sex that evening, not even any foreplay. I got hugs and some kisses and that was it. Maybe she had thought things through; a husband with no body hair was surely not what she envisioned when she married me. Now I was this half female, half male person that seemed lost in life. I was sure our marriage was soon to be over, a hair free body and a girly feminine hairstyle most likely ending four very happy years. I shed a tear or two, but went to sleep exhausted and worn out. Not physically, but mentally.
I debated telling her the truth, getting it all out front, thus nullifying the threat in the email. I debated it over and over; I was sure it was the right thing to do, but how did I tell her I liked to dress in her clothes, and that I had been doing it for years while never confiding in her? That last part was the problem; if I had only told her at the start of our relationship, this would not be a concern now.
I never did come up with the words to tell her, so I showed up for the appointment. I had often thought of how I would look with my hair in curls and highlighted, but both options were never to be experienced due to my marriage to Michelle, so it was only a fleeting thought. I got Nora as my stylist again; she presumed me being back was because I was so happy at being hair free that I wanted the next step. Over the next three hours, my hair was highlighted, then a curly permanent was applied. When that was finished, she surprised me by setting my hair in curlers, then placed me under a dryer. I was going to protest, but figured I was toast already. Might as well go out in a flourish of femininity.
The hairstyle was definitely feminine, no doubt now about my gender. Soft curls framed my face and tickled my shoulders. The highlights made the hair shades lighter, the decision to let my hair grow longer after we married now seemed to be a bad one. As my head moved, the curly tendrils bounced around my face, that and the lack of eyebrows only making my face look even more feminine.
As a reward, Nora pierced my ears, a diamond stud in each. I sat there watching her do it, a smile on my face. I should have been screaming – now there would no hope of a reconciliation. I had already decided on a motel for the night, I was sure I would be thrown out as soon as I get home. I drove slowly on the way home; I even took a longer route there, hoping for some reason to surface to keep me married and with my love. As I pulled into the garage, her car was not there. A sudden intake of breath that I was holding escaped. I quickly entered the house and went directly to our bedroom. I looked around to see if she might have come home and then went back out somewhere. On my dresser was a note. I made my way there, hoping for some type of reprieve.
Sure enough, Michelle had been home, after getting a frantic call from her sister to pack a suitcase and head for the airport. Her sister was about to have a baby, and since it was her first she was very tense about everything. She had a few labor pains, then they stopped. She called her doctor then my wife, in that order. Michelle was going to stay with her until she had the baby, allowing her sister’s husband a chance to decompress and return to a semi-normal life.
I sat down in a wing back chair we had in the corner of the bedroom and let out another long sigh. I looked up and thanked the guardian angel that was watching over me, then closed my eyes and tried to relax a little. I sat there for the longest time, immersed in thought. I really needed to put an end to this; maybe just confessing everything to Michelle was the way to proceed. Then again, the likely look on her face when I admit to dressing in her clothes was sure to signal the death of our marriage. The hard part would be admitting that I had lied to her about all of this for as long as we had been married. I had had many chances over the years to confess, but I never took any of those chances, preferring to continue to deceive her.
The best time would have been on the second Halloween we shared together. She dressed me in one of her business suits and applied some makeup to my face. It was done haphazardly, mainly as a lark to get some laughs. She dressed in some of my clothes and pretended to be my boss. Looking back, it would have been an excellent time to divulge my secret, my desire to wear these clothes other than on Halloween. But I didn’t and now that secret was about to destroy our marriage.
I finally got up, made my way to the kitchen and dug up some leftovers to eat. I wasn’t really very hungry, all of this drama making me nervous, thus killing off most of any appetite I might have had. I picked through the contents of the refrigerator, maybe eating ten bites of food. I did my dishes then went back to my office, checking my business email account for any orders. Two new orders, and a mysterious email from a customer. I opened it and found a picture of me with my new hairstyle, it was only of me from the neck up, but that was bad enough. Again the signature in the bottom right corner of the picture AKA Calvin. At the bottom of the email was a list of all of my customers, both past and present with a short note on whether they would approve of the new look and signed ‘A concerned customer’.
Now I was in a panic, quickly heading to the bathroom to throw up my recent meal. I came back holding a wet wash cloth to my forehead, trying to keep from retching again, although I doubted if there was anything left in my stomach. How did they get my picture? I just left the salon less than an hour ago.
Once I managed to calm down some, I checked my regular email account, to find another long request of things I needed to do to appease my blackmailer.
The hairstyle looks nice, the earrings a nice touch to your appearance, but you have still not embraced your inner female. So, before two days have passed, you need to correct your figure deficiencies, mainly a lack of breasts and a too small derrière. Again a picture sent to this email showing that the problems have been corrected and the blanket emails to all of your friends, relatives and business contacts will be delayed. The deficiencies need to be corrected permanently, and professionally not just something glued on for the short term. I know you will rest easier once you have done this, your inner female now able to show herself in public.
One additional matter needs to be corrected – you need to go and buy a pair of shoes with a five inch heel. By the time of your appointment for your figure enhancements, you need to be able to walk in them without any problem. In fact, you need to wear them when you go to the salon. A lot is riding on this big step, so plan well and enjoy the appointment.
I laid my head on my desk and wept. I banged my hand on the desk, too, frustration getting the best of me. Nothing changed, though; the email still remained on my computer and the implied threat still there. Again, the internal debate on whether I should just confess all and take my licks surfaced. For the next hour, I considered doing just that, but too many unknowns were still there and now that my business customers were involved, there was just too much at risk.
If Michelle were here, I might have confessed right then, but then, if she were here, she would have been looking at her husband looking quite feminine with his new hairstyle and highlights. Gawd, what was I going to do now?
I was super frustrated, ending up taking a sleeping pill to calm me down and allow me to get some rest, otherwise I feared I would be up all night trying to figure a way out of this damn mess. It didn’t take long, as I lost consciousness, the frustration finally abated for a little while.
I woke up groggy, made my way to the bathroom to empty my bladder, then stood in front of the mirror looking at my feminine hairdo with the diamond studs peeking through the tendrils at my ears.
I called and made an appointment to get my figure fixed. Again, it would be Nora and they could take me in a couple of hours. That would leave time for me to purchase my heels. I guessed that would be the best; it left less time to debate whether this was the right thing to do. I decided to try the mall; when shopping with Michelle, I had noticed a lot of shoe stores with exotic looking heels. I knew Michele normally wore three inch heels, anything more making her feet ache for hours. I could just imagine what five inch heels would do to my feet.
I was already red in the face when I entered the second shoe store I tried. The first one was an utter disaster: after telling them what I wanted, I was literally laughed out of the store. At the next store, a nice young lady greeted me as I made my way to the women’s area of the shop. I was looking at a pair of heels that just might meet my needs. I asked her if I could try on a pair, then was surprised as she pointed to a chair so she could measure my feet. That completed she went to the back returning with several boxes of heels. She slid a nylon footsie on my right foot, then slipped on the heel and buckled the ankle strap. She had me stand to see how it fit, then suggested I take a step or two. Other than the severe angle of my arch the shoe was comfortable. Back to my seat, she put on the matching heel and had me walk around the store.
I felt all of the other customers’ eyes on me; it’s not not every day that you find a male with a feminine hairdo walking around a shoe store in towering heels. There were several colors to choose from; I decided in a weak moment to buy a black, a red, and a white pair, remembering that Michelle often matched her shoe color to her outfit. I have no idea why I bought three pairs; maybe I could wear them when in my apartment after I was kicked out of our home. That thought caused another few tears to surface, so I used the back of my hand to wipe them away.
That accomplished, I headed to the salon – in the heels, I might add. I never did know what happened to my male shoes, ugly brown loafers that I had had for ages. It was a little awkward driving in the heels, but I took my time and made it safely. I was nervous as I parked in the salon’s parking lot. So much so that my stomach was doing flip flops again. If I had eaten anything, it would not have stayed down. I was that upset and worried. Once in the salon, I just closed my eyes and let Nora do her job.
Nora was finishing up later, some six hours after she started, when I came to the realization that I had not told her what size I wanted my breasts. I was so worried about having it done, I forgot about the details. I looked down at my chest and took in a huge amount of air. They were huge, almost blocking my view of anything further down my body. My mind shut down, it was too much visual imaging to process.
I quickly stood up, my new appendages swaying back and forth. The full length mirror’s image seemed even worse, with the breasts sagging gently and seeming even bigger than when I was sitting on the salon chair. Then I looked lower down the image in the mirror and promptly fainted.
Nora helped me up and back into the salon chair, holding a wet wash cloth over my eyes, asking repeatedly if I was alright. No, I wasn’t alright… my hips were huge, easily in proportion to my new set of hooters. It felt like I was sitting on pillows, huge fluffy pillows. Yes, junior was still there, now looking like a little lost boy situated between my very womanly hips. I was given a blouse to wear after the bra was slipped over my new breasts. For the lower half, a pair of panties and a skirt. I looked longingly at my pants on a chair nearby, but Nora nixed that immediately since they would not fit over my new hips.
Now, if I could get home without looking at my new figure again, there might be hope. My mind had thought it, home. I wondered how much longer it would be my home. I hugged Nora, paid the bill and walked out to my car with tears streaming down my face. All of the figure enhancement was only six hundred dollars. I paid it not even thinking of the amount, too concerned about how Michelle would react to me having tits and a huge ass. The beginning of the end?
I sat in my car for an eternity, working up the nerve to do anything. I wanted to go home, but was afraid of facing my new image. The view from the rear view mirror was bad enough. I couldn’t stay in the car all day, but there was no other place to go. I finally started the car and headed home. I must have just driven around listlessly; the half hour trip was almost an hour now and I was still not any closer to my home. Somehow, I made it there, parked in the garage and entered the house.
There were lights on and wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. Oh, gawd, Michelle was home. I promptly fainted, catching the edge of a table before I lost consciousness, pulling the table over with me.
I awoke much later when she wiped my forehead with a damp rag. I looked up and she smiled at me. I looked down at my body then panic set in. She had unbuttoned the blouse that I had worn – which, incidentally, barely covered my new assets – my breasts proudly on display, the nipples hard and pointy underneath the lace covering. I was trying to figure out something to say, but no complete words were escaping my lips.
She just leaned down and kissed me on the lips tenderly. It was a passionate kiss, lasting forever. I was short of breath, my heart was beating so hard I thought the floor was vibrating underneath me. She paused, then started kissing my face, ears, eyes, my cheeks, everywhere she could. Then again back to my lips. I was savoring the kisses, no other activity in my brain at all.
She was uncomfortable on the floor next to me, so she got up, helped me to my feet then dragged me to the living room. Of course, my mind decided to start processing what had happened and all the worry and fear came back instantly. I was told to stand by the sofa and remove all of my clothes. I stared at her, but she snapped at me.
“Right now I want you naked and for your own sake, you better hurry in doing it.”
I turned and worked the blouse off my shoulders.
She stood up grabbed my shoulders and turned me around to where I was facing her.
“I want your eyes focused on me, thinking of how you’re going to explain all of this to your wife of four years. Naked now, or I’ll get my hairbrush and paddle your cute fanny.”
I undid the button and zipper on the skirt and let it fall to the floor. I fought with the catch on the bra, but eventually I managed to get it undone. I let it fall to the floor alongside of the skirt, then slid the panties down my legs, shivering some as the silky fabric caressed my skin on the way down.
I now was naked, Michelle carefully scrutinizing my body. I was now shaking from fear, tears only a few moments away. I was told to get down on my knees facing her and look directly at her. To emphasize her point, she placed a hand on each side of my face and held my head tightly making me look directly at her.
“Now, I want you to answer my questions quickly and honestly. Nod your head if you understand.”
I did and she continued.
“Why is my husband looking more like a woman than a man?”
I swallowed hard, then started telling her of everything that had happened in the last few days. When I stopped, I let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Why, pray tell, did you not confess all of this to me earlier? In fact, why was I not told of your inclinations before we married?”
Another swallow, then I pleaded with her to not leave me. She squeezed my face harder between her hands, then reminded me to answer quickly and honestly. I mentioned that I was afraid if I told her everything I would lose her, something I wanted to avoid at all costs. Before she could say anything I spat out that I loved her with all of my heart and begged her to forgive me. I added a long and stretched out pleeeeeease at the end.
“Good save, but I’m still upset at how you thought so little of me that you lied to me, keeping a part of you hidden from me for four fucking years. Since you’ve acted so immaturely recently, I want you to go to our bedroom, stand in the corner, putting your nose directly in the corner, the tip to be touching both walls and stay there until I call you. Your hands are to be at your side, touching the sides of your cute butt… well, cute and impressive. I doubt you will be squeezing that butt into any of my panties in the future.
“No diversion to the bathroom – straight to the corner near the window. I’ll think everything you’ve told me over before deciding whether I’m going to divorce you or keep you. If I do decide to keep you, and that’s a big if, at the moment, there’ll be some changes made… changes that you’ll agree to without any debate. I’m so disgusted at your behavior, I don’t really know what to do. Now get out of my sight.”
I jumped up and almost ran to the bedroom. I stood in the corner she mentioned and tried to get my nose directly in the corner. Due to my cheeks hitting the side walls, it was a real effort. I heard a giggle behind me; I presumed she was checking to see if I had obeyed her. What else could I do? I loved her and would do anything to keep her in my life. The position was hard to hold, it was like forcing my face into the corner so that the tip of my nose was touching.
It felt like hours before I heard another giggle behind me and her voice telling me that I could back away from the corner. As I stepped away, I let out a breath that I was apparently holding, then became aware that I was sporting a raging boner. I felt dizzy as all of my blood tried to reach my face as my embarrassment took hold; all of the blood except what was keeping my erection rock hard and pointing straight out.
She walked over, grabbed my erection and squeezed fairly hard. I almost came, the only thing delaying it was the thought of what she would say if I did. She led me back to the living room by my male appendage, her hand securely holding on to it. I felt so humiliated by her actions, but for some reason, my erection remained excited and content to be handled this way. I never once thought of disobeying her, everything now riding on whether she was going to keep me or divorce me.
When we got to the living room, there were now pieces of clothing lying on the coffee table next to the sofa and that was where she had me stand. I was handed one piece of clothing after another while she watched me put them on. I knew they were all frilly and dainty, but tried to ignore the delicious feelings, my main concern was to make her happy so she would keep me. Every once in a while, my mind would focus on what would happen if she divorced me. I just shook my head harder, trying to make those thoughts go away. I needed her in my life and nothing that she desired was to be denied her.
Finally, a gorgeous dress was held in front of me. I stepped into it and she eased it up and on to my shoulders. She fussed with it for a minute, getting it to lay right, while I was trying to keep from coming all over it. As she zipped up the dress, it felt heavenly, the soft fabric hugging my new curves and moving some as I turned this way and that, trying to see my image in the mirror.
Finally, Michelle felt sorry for me and led me to the hall mirror.
As I stepped in front of it, my legs almost collapsed. There was a table nearby, where purses and keys were laid when coming and going from the house. I had to steady myself by hanging on to the edge of that table.
I must have stood there for an eternity, Michelle asking me if I liked what I saw. I started to say yes, but thought better of it. That would be admitting that I liked to dress, making the possibility of losing her all the more probable. Instead, I remained silent.
Her next words surprised me: “You still haven’t got it.”
I was yanked out the front door and led to her car. She opened the passenger door for me and told me to sit. I did so as gracefully as possible as she moved around to the other side so she could drive. I could tell she was upset again, so me not saying anything was part of the problem. I tried a few words trying to explain how I felt. I was told to shut up.
“What comes next is what I was trying to avoid for your sake. So we’ll do things the hard way.”
She drove to her friend’s house, about twenty minutes away. Now I was shaking. Her friend was a divorce attorney, one of the best in town.
She parked in her driveway, coming around to my side of the car and yanked me out of the passenger seat.
I was crying, saying I was sorry and trying to keep her from going to the door. I hung back, not wanting to go anywhere near her friend. Well, that didn’t work, as she came back, reached under my skirt and grabbed my crotch again. Guess what, I went into the house while her friend Wanda was holding the door open and giggling. Right into her office and then I was stood right in front of her desk. Wanda came in and removed a pile of papers from her top right hand desk drawer and placed them in the center of her desk.
She looked at me and then read from the top paper.
“This is a simple divorce agreement: if signed, it’ll dissolve your marriage, leaving all assets to Michelle your former wife.
She stopped and looked at me.
I really couldn’t see the expression on her face for all the tears. The only words I could get out were, “No, please, anything but that.”
She reached a couple of papers further down in her stack and pulled one to the top.
“This is an agreement that, if you sign, will let the marriage continue, but at a price to you. From now on, you will be forbidden to wear any masculine clothing at any time. This will include any type of pants, whether intended for a male or female. Cooking, shopping, maintain the home and, of course, raising any children that might come along later in life will now be your responsibility.
“Then there comes the key part of this agreement. Since we both believe that your reluctance to be your true self is due to your masculine ego, your male apparatus is to be covered with a vagina. Before that’s done, you will be milked for your sperm at a local facility for that purpose and the resulting sample frozen until needed. No part of this agreement is negotiable. I reached for the pen and grabbed hold of the paper she had just showed me. Through a river of tears, I signed it and dated it.
Her friend notarized it and told me in would be filed in court tomorrow morning. Then she pushed another paper in front of me. I looked at the heading: application for a name change. She didn’t have to say anything, I picked up the pen and signed it too. Then one more paper was put in front of me. I read the heading and just about broke down in tears. It was an application for a change of gender. I swallowed hard, a new burst of tears was leaving my eyes as I signed it too. Her friend hugged me, then Michelle dragged me from the house.
Considering how I had behaved, how I had lied to Michelle for four years maybe this is the right way to proceed. The important thing is that I still had Michelle in my life. Hopefully she will be able to still love me, I sure hope so, my life would be so empty without her.
When we pulled up in front of a sperm bank, I just hung my head in shame and meekly followed her into the facility. Michelle told the receptionist that I was here to give a sperm donation that was to be frozen for future use. I got a funny look, but she filled out the paperwork and soon I was in a small private room. The lady showed Michelle how to hook up the machine and then left. I started to plead with her, apologizing to her for all the things I had done wrong. Meanwhile, she had my penis in the suction device and then flipped the switch. My last words were slurred, as I started ejaculating almost immediately.
I must have fainted, because when I came around, Michelle was smiling at me holding a container in her hands filled to the brim with my male seed. As feelings started to surface, I realized my penis was sore and had shrunk to almost nothing. Michelle pulled a ring out of her purse and fastened it round my ball sack. It was hard to get clasped together, but she somehow managed. Then my panties were pulled up again, stopping at the top of my thighs.
“Are you going to cooperate, or do I need to lead you by your penis to your next appointment?”
I lowered my head and, in a whisper, told her I would behave. Then I had to repeat it, this time saying ‘cooperate’ instead of ‘behave’.
Back in the car, this time I remained silent, all of this leaving me lost and afraid. We pulled up in front of her salon and I let out another pitiful sigh. It was getting late, but they were still open. I could understand the sperm bank being open in the evenings to handle people that had to work, but couldn’t see the salon being open at ten o’clock in the evening.
Straight inside and back to a private room. I was given a paper to sign by one of their techs; I grabbed the pen she offered and signed without reading it. What was one more step down the rabbit hole after what I had been through today? Besides, I still wanted to do anything I could to please Michelle.
The tech removed the piece of paper and helped me get undressed. Next, I was up in a chair, my feet spread wide and cuffed to make sure I couldn’t move them. An ice pack was laid on my member, the cold shrinking him even further. I swear I could feel the cold up my middle of my back. She removed the ring that Michelle had put on me at the sperm bank. The ice had done the trick, shrinking my little guy to only a minute nubbin. She made sure blood circulation could still be had, then coated my male organ in a clear liquid. It felt even colder than the ice, then everything down there tightened. I didn’t even look down there, my male life now over with. I could feel her pulling the smaller package back between my legs, then placing the end of it in a clamp that was wedged between my thighs. She applied another liquid to the underside and then waited. After a few minutes, she checked to see if the glue had set, then removed the clamp between my legs.
My legs were then spread even further apart as she held up a silicone piece that would cover up what was left of my male apparatus. It felt just like skin as she laid it in place finding the best spot for to be fastened down. I was trying to not think of what was happening, this whole day had been an utter disaster. Hopefully, this would be the last task for the day; I doubted I could handle any more.
She got it positioned where she wanted it, then applied the adhesive to hold it in place. Again a drying period, then she inserted a finger into the slit and pulled up to make sure it was securely glued down.
“Give the glue another twenty-four hours and it’ll become semi-permanent. The silicone breathes just like real skin and I disinfected the area thoroughly before I applied the piece, so there should be no risk of infection.
It can be penetrated, just like your wife’s, and you can have a release of clear liquid, although no sperm will be produced any more due to the hormone implant I placed in your scrotum.”
She released the cuffs and I was helped with my clothes. Michelle had been watching all of this a smile slowly spreading over her face. I brought my legs together mainly to prevent anything more being done down there. It felt funny as there was nothing getting in the way any more, my thighs now able to touch from my groin all the way to my knees.
Michelle took my hand and led me from the salon. I did walk decidedly differently, finding it hard to keep up with Michelle. As I lowered my derrière into the seat, I had to wiggle a little trying to find a comfortable way to sit. A little prayer was voiced that we hopefully were headed home. As soon as I saw our street I let out a breath that I was apparently holding, fearing that this day would continue on and on.
Into the house and straight to the guest bedroom. I sighed, figuring I would be denied the chance to sleep with Michelle. I was suddenly hugged tightly to her as she was undoing the buttons on my dress. She was hurrying trying desperately to get me naked and in her arms. The rest of my clothes were soon on the floor, as her arms encircled my body and pulled me tightly into her embrace. I was kissed repeatedly, often times her tongue making inroads into my mouth. I just leaned in harder, not wanting any of this to end; I even tried to snuggle in a little closer, my arms wrapped tightly around her, our poor tits smashed against each other. I could feel my nipples getting harder, and hers poking into my soft flesh.
Then in the midst of all of this, I felt a warmth spread from my groin to all parts of my body. My body was now tingling all over, each kiss and wiggle of either of our bodies causing even more pleasure to my troubled mind. It was like building up to this high point, then even higher, and then even higher again. I had had my eyes closed since I was taken into her embrace, letting all the sensations and feelings wash over my body. She pushed me back against the bed and we fell on it, still twisted together arms and legs trying to pull each other even tighter. Then her mouth found my nipple, my right nipple now totally engulfed in her mouth, her tongue circling my nipple causing moans of distress from my mouth. Then when she inserted a finger into my female slit, I thought I was going to hit the ceiling. Every nerve in my body exploded all at once – surely the whole neighborhood could feel the vibrations from the explosion.
She apparently enjoyed the same thing happening to her.
We lay side by side on the bed, panting hard, trying to get enough air into our lungs to maintain life. I opened my eyes and saw my breasts rising and falling with my attempts to suck in some air. A glance at Michelle saw her breasts doing the same. We never did get up off the bed; once we had recovered physically, we slipped into a cuddle and soon were asleep.
I woke later having to go to the bathroom. I pried myself loose from her, making my way to the toilet. I sat down and felt my urine splatter out of my new opening, then a thicker fluid glop out in clumps. I panicked, calling for Michelle. She appeared with something in her hand, telling me to spread my legs wide. She reached down and inserted what she was holding in her hand into my new orifice and pushed the plunger. She removed the applicator; only then did I realize she had inserted a tampon into my vagina.
Nothing more was said, other than that I needed to change the tampon every four hours and remove it before any penetrative sex. That was said with a smirk on her face that turned into a fit of giggling. I went back to bed my head hung down staring at the floor. That was soon rectified as she nestled in close to me and started the whole thing all over again. We never did eat anything that day, I was content filled up with love and in the arms of my beloved. We did nibble on some food late before we took showers and went back to bed. Again in the guest bedroom, I never thought to ask why we were not sleeping in our own bed, having Michelle near me was enough. We did sleep that night, the body can only tolerate sex at times, not 24/7 like we had been indulging in.
The next morning she was bouncy and energetic while I just wanted to sleep some more. I was laying on top of the covers on my stomach, when she laid one on my right ass cheek. That got my attention and soon the other cheek received the same attention. I scurried from the bed, stood and looked at her, my stare intense and meant to be threatening. She just laughed at me, hoisting the nightie I was wearing over my head, Then she focused on my breasts, more specifically my nipples her licking her lips sent me into self-preservation mode, my hands trying to prevent her from getting a hold on them. I was chased to our bedroom with me giggling and trying to keep my breasts out of sight, something I was not succeeding at.
I stopped when I got to the bed where two sets of clothing were laid out for the day.
“Since it’s our anniversary, our parents are coming over and unless you want your Mom and Dad to see your new body in all its glory, I suggest you put on the clothes quickly.”
I stood there knowing I had screwed up things real bad forgetting our own wedding anniversary. Another slap to my ass and I was starting to put on the clothes. I heard the doorbell than a minute later, both sets of parents yelling they were here. Oh gawd, and I thought yesterday was bad, today might be the worst yet. How would I face them, especially with this figure and dressed in a slinky LBD? I had managed to just get it on, needing some help to get the zipper up. Then our Moms walked into the room, going to their respective daughters, giving them a hug and in my case helping me with the zipper.
Once everybody was dressed, we headed to the living room. Apparently, Mom approved of her new daughter, or at least would tolerate her, but Dad was going to be another thing altogether. I guess we were close, closer than friends, but not like a true father/son relationship. As I entered, I prepared myself to be shunned; how could a father put up with a son that dresses and now looks like his daughter.
I decided to be the daughter I was meant to be and walked up to Daddy and gave him a kiss on the cheek. I was suddenly enveloped in a bear hug as he lifted me off the floor. He swung me around as I squealed in delight. Mom made him put me down, but I was still captured in a fierce hug. We eventually found a seat as he assumed his favorite chair when he was visiting. I was pulled down on his lap his hands still keeping me close. It felt so good, like something in my life was now complete.
Her parents were just as enthusiastic in their comments about me, her dad leaning in and kissing me on the cheek whispering that his daughter loved me so much, she had been trying to make this come about for years.
“Now that she has succeeded, I wholeheartedly agree with her decision to allow the female in you to come out. One look at you is all the proof anyone needs to see that you are female through and through.”
The sound of the doorbell stopped any further discussion as Michelle grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. We were soon walking toward the front door. As we arrived, she placed one of my hands on the doorknob, telling me that I was in charge of greeting our guests and she would take care of the coats and purses.
I was shaking like a leaf when I opened the door to our first guests. I received hugs and kisses from almost everybody, complimenting me on my looks and mannerisms. Even several of the husbands told me it was about time I embraced the obvious. After the last guest arrived, I wondered if I was the only one hanging on to the lie that I was living, me as a male.
For some reason, I thought back to receiving my first ‘disastrous’ email. It was suddenly like the clouds cleared and the sun broke through bathing the landscape in bright light.
Michelle had sent me the emails, trying to get me to emerge from my cocoon, each email forcing me to be more feminine and lose the masculinity that had made my life miserable for years. Yes, I had been miserable, everything but my love for Michelle was fake. I had let it control my life, while I wallowed in my self-inflicted purgatory. A small smile appeared on my face; time to let out the real person inside me. I stood up straight, my new breasts now proudly displayed.
I heard Michelle call out to me: time for some much needed action. I fluffed my hair and minced into the room. I ran to my true love and kissed her passionately, trying to get my tongue all the way down her throat. Fifteen minutes later I was still hugging and kissing her refusing to let go. It felt so good, a feeling I wanted to savor forever.
When I finally released her, we got a round of applause from our guests. They had been watching the kissing going on, two people so much in love. We mingled, being told Happy Anniversary many times over. I was hugged so much, but so enjoyed every hug I was given. After three hours, the party broke up, a table in the dining room full of anniversary presents. I felt so bad that I had not gotten Michelle anything, so wound up in pleasing my blackmailer that I totally forgot our anniversary.
Michelle grabbed a hold of my arm and I was dragged to our bedroom. She placed her hand over my eyes and steered me into the center of the room. When she removed her hand, I squealed. Our closet door was open and where my male clothes once hung was now filled with dresses. I ran to our dresser and checked my drawers: yep, now filled with frilly lingerie. I turned and attacked Michelle, knocking her and me both onto the bed. Our parents had been watching; Mom cleared her throat and dragged Dad and Michelle’s parents out of the room.
“They’ll soon get tired of it,” I heard her say, “but until then, we have to let them play.”
Not a fat chance in hell of that happening: now that I was a housewife, Michelle was going to be taken care of – and I don’t just mean food and looking after the house.
I apologized again for forgetting our anniversary.
She moved me in front of our mirror.
“I have the best gift in the world: my spouse as she should be and where she will stay till death do us part.”
No more words were spoken; our lips met and the kiss seemed to last forever.
Story Complete For Now
© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker