Amanda's Little Woman             by: Anyport

 

You know women are the oddest creatures, if you accept that my wife is typical of the gender that is. Take what she’s done to me, would you believe she turned me into a woman, no don’t laugh, I’m serious, she turned me into a damned woman. But that’s not the best part, particularly not for me, though I must admit I’m adjusting to it. The best part is her reason for doing it, she decided she wanted to have sex with another woman, but because she wanted to remain faithful to me, yes, you’ve guessed it, she decided the only acceptable option would be to make me into a woman.

What really pisses me off is, she never bothered to discuss it with me. I’m fairly sure I’d have been able to add something to the debate given the opportunity, but no, she just went right ahead and changed me. And the way she did it was so incredibly devious. Now before I go any further, for anyone out there who happens to know my wife, let me give you a little advice, never and I mean never, prefix a statement to her with I wish I could help. I warn you now she’ll assume you’re making an offer and she’ll take you up on it.

At least, that’s what happened to me. There we were one winter’s night, cuddled together in front of a warm fire, when she made an off hand remark about wondering what it would be like to have sex with another woman. Now here’s another piece of advice for all the married men out there, never assume you know what your wife means when she says something. For example, take our conversation that night, it went something like this; "I wonder what it would feel like to make love to another woman?"

"Sorry love, I can’t help you, you know I was a virgin before we were married."

"That’s okay dear, you couldn’t help anyway, I don’t think describing it would be the same as doing it, so I suppose I’ll never know."

I should say at this point, none of my problems would have arisen if I’d simply suggested she try it, but I was so sure I knew her that I was positive she’d never actually want to do something like that, so instead I said. "I only wish I could help you in some way."

Amanda perked up immediately, "Do you really?"

I kissed her and smiled lovingly, "Of course I do, you know I’d do anything for you Mandy."

"Anything?"

"Yes of course, but I’m…. Oh I see" I grinned. This was where I got completely the wrong message, I thought she was asking me to, well you know, eat her, so I did, quite well, if I do say so myself.

Anyway, the upshot was, we made love on the couch, then went to bed and made love again. After which I fell into a deep sleep, little realising that would be the last time I’d sleep, with what I assume was the perfect balance of male and female hormones. At this juncture it might be an idea to give you a little background information about our relationship. I'm quite certain there will be many people reading this who will say the whole story is a load of bovine excrement, but perhaps a little additional information might help you accept my story.

I should start by saying I'm something of a philosopher, not as in one of the world's great thinkers or anything pretentious like that. More in that I have my own theories and beliefs and I consider them to quite unique. Foremost among these beliefs is the theory that every life is made up of certain crucial events, not necessarily earth shattering, in fact, in some cases quite miniscule, you know, a word here an action there. But I believe that each of these events has an irrevocable effect on the rest of our lives, the problem is, they are often so insignificant that there's no way to recognise them until long after they've happened. For example, one such momentous occasion in my life was when I uttered those few simple words, "I only wish I could help you in some way!" An innocent enough statement under normal circumstances, and not one you would imagine to be particularly important, and yet, I stand before you in all my female glory, as living proof that they were ten of the most important words I ever uttered.

Another such moment was when I was four and an half years old, I was playing ball with a few friends when Jimmy Graham hit the ball over the fence into the next door neighbours garden. Since it was my neighbour, it was decided I should be the one to go and fetch the ball. These particular neighbours had only moved in a few days earlier, so I'd never actually met them and I was a little nervous as I climbed over the fence and headed for the ball. As I bent to pick it up a tiny voice said, "Hello." I turned slowly, and there, behind a bush in the corner of the garden was where I saw Mandy for the first time. She was sitting at a small table pouring imaginary tea for her dolls, which were arranged in chairs around the table.

I stared at her in silence, I know it's hard to believe, but I am convinced that, even at the tender age of four, I fell head over heels in love, a love I might add, which has only grown stronger over the years. "My name's Amanda, what's yours?" I continued to stare silently as Amanda poured a cup of tea for one of her dolls, he long thick wavy blonde hair covering her face as she bent her head forward, intent on her hostess duties. Finally, as I continued to stare at her in open admiration, she raised her head to look at me. As she flicked a wayward curl from her forehead, a curl that has plagued her throughout her life, she fixed me with piercing violet eyes and smiled in the most disarming way. "Well, has the cat got your tongue?" I'd never heard the expression before, but understood what she meant and mumbled that it hadn't and my name was Michael Wadsworth.

"Oh no, that will never do will it Alice?" She spoke to the doll nearest to her and returned to pouring the tea. "I think I'll call him Mikey, what do you think?" Turning back to me she said, "There, Alice agrees, from now on we'll call you Mikey. Now, why don't you throw that silly ball back over the fence and sit down. You can take teddy's seat, he likes sitting on people's knees."

"Hey Wadsy, hurry up with the ball will ya'." Without a second thought I threw the ball back over the fence and joined Amanda at her tea party. That was possibly my first and most important life changing decision. Amanda, while physically three months my junior was mentally ten years my senior and has always remained so.

All through out formative years we were absolutely inseparable; in fact Mandy was responsible for almost all of my firsts. My first, and only, love, my first kiss, the first breast I ever saw and touched, the first girl I ever saw naked, the first girl to ever see me naked, and of course first with all my sexual experiences, up to and including loss of virginity. And finally my first, and definitely only, wife, much to my never-ending amazement. You see while I grew into a skinny -okay I'll admit it, almost effeminate- average looking guy, Amanda fulfilled all her early promise and turned into the most stunningly attractive woman you've ever seen. She has the body and looks of a movie star, as people are often at pains to point out, but despite that, she seems perfectly content to live with me.

When we were first married I used to set my mental clock to wake up fifteen minutes before I needed to, a fortunate ability I've had all my life. I would then simply sit and watch Mandy sleep, her hair spread out over the pillow with, as always, a curl hanging over her forehead. I'd examine her face in minute detail, the small beauty spot on her left cheekbone and the way her bottom lip sometimes quivers as she breathes. The tiny scar above her right eye, fortunately hidden by her eyebrow. I remember the terror I felt when she tripped at the age of seven and caught her head on the rock. It was only a glancing blow and there was actually very little blood. But there was enough for me to panic, I quickly pulled of my tee shirt and cut a strip with my pocketknife. Then I carefully and lovingly bound the makeshift bandage around her head and led her home.

My mother was furious when she saw what I'd done to my shirt, but oddly enough I have no idea what my punishment was. On the other hand I recall in detail the words and my reaction to them when Amanda's mother pronounced her daughter in no danger of permanent injury or scar. Well except for the tiny one I've already mentioned, and my subsequent relief and joy as I walked round to my own home clutching the bloodstained rag in my hand. I still have that rag somewhere, though these days the stain is hardly noticeable. Oh yes, and the waking up early thing, the truth is I still do it sometimes, and every morning I offer a silent prayer of thanks to any deity that may be listening and responsible for my life.

We've been married for eight years now and I can honestly say that in all that time, in fact, in all the time I've known Mandy, we've never once argued. The obvious reason being that I automatically give her anything she wants, and agree with all her decisions rather than risk upsetting her in any way. Luckily she's always been very intelligent and consequently her decisions are usually the correct ones. I know some of you might find it hard to believe, but she even decided which university we would go to and the subjects we would study. She chose marketing for her self and computer sciences for me because, as I learned later, she'd already decided we were going to open a computer store, which, thanks to her business acumen, is now extremely successful.

So as you can see dear reader, I'm totally besotted by my wife and I hope you'll have less trouble understanding my willingness to do anything she asked of me. Anyway, back to the story, I woke up the next morning and had a momentary panic attack. I looked across for my customary view of my perfect wife, to find the place beside me was empty. But then I breathed a sigh of relief as I heard the water running in the bathroom. Just then my wife appeared at the bedroom door, she was fully dressed and began pulling the clothing from her body. I had no idea where she'd been, but took the undressing to be a sign that she wanted to repeat last night's lovemaking, and threw the bedclothes aside to allow her to climb into bed. She leaned over and kissed me then laughed, "No time for that now darling, I've decided to help you shave your legs so come on, hurry, we have a lot to do before we go to work."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but as I've already explained, I never refuse her anything, so I accepted her hand and didn't resist as she pulled me out of bed. "Oh, I almost forgot," She picked up a glass of water and two tablets from the bedside table, "Take these, from now on you'll take two every morning and night." I swallowed the pills without comment, I assumed they were some sort of vitamins, though I often wonder if, had I known the truth that they were in fact extremely high doses of female hormones, it would have made any difference to my taking them. To this day I have no idea where Amanda acquired the pills, though I suspect it might have been from her doctor, who she could twist around her little finger, just as she can with any man she's ever met.

Anyway, she led me into the bathroom and had me climb into the hot bath, and then she began shaving the hair from my body. I asked her why and she simply replied that it would look better, and continued her work. The whole process must have taken longer than she'd expected because, as she finished removing the last of the hair from my body she said the rest would have to wait until this evening and we should hurry over to the store now as it was almost time to open.

The day passed quite normally, and Amanda never made any reference to my hairless condition, though, on one occasion, she did stroke my hairless arm and smile at me. I spent the whole day wondering exactly what 'the rest' would entail. Obviously I couldn't ask Amanda, in case it was a surprise, I had a few suspicions most of which revolved around some form of kinky sex. But I decided it might be best if I stopped thinking about it, since I was only getting horny at the prospect of sex with Mandy, and I would hate to be disappointed if she had other plans.

Right through dinner Amanda acted as if nothing was different. It wasn't until I was clearing away the dishes, that she handed me my pills and said, "You almost forgot these." Then, as she turned to leave the room she added, "When you've stacked the dishwasher I'll meet you in the bedroom." And she was gone. I rushed through the dishes and up the stairs taking them three at a time as I raced to meet my wife. She was sitting by the dressing table, and without turning to look at me, she said, "Take your clothes of sweetheart." I swear it took no more than five seconds for me to strip off my clothing and then I stood beside her waiting for the anticipated advances. Instead she handed me a bag of cotton balls and told me to sit on the bed and pack them between my toes. Confused, I did as she suggested then waited for her to make the next move. Eventually she came over and sat on the bed beside me. She produced a bottle of nail polish and without comment she began painting my toenails a bright red colour, applying no less than four coats before she was satisfied with the results.

As she finished the first coat she spoke, it was the first time either of us had since she'd handed me the cotton balls. "I can't believe how sexy you look Mikey, this is incredible, I'm getting turned on just doing your toes, imagine how I'm going to feel later." I misunderstood her meaning thinking she was referring to how she would feel when we made love after she'd finished my toes, and never in my wildest imaginings considering the possibility that she meant, when she'd turned me into her female lover.

There was one other reason why I didn't complain about what Amanda was doing to me. I mean, well I should think I've made it perfectly clear that I wouldn't have objected, openly at least though I may have secretly had a few qualms had I been aware of her final goal. But the thing was, each step was so gradual, it was almost as if it became the logical progression, and therefore it would have sounded ridiculous to complain about it. I actually asked Mandy about this recently, and whether it had been her plan to get me used to each stage of the transformation before she continued. She just laughed and said, "Not at all, I was just enjoying it so much, I wanted it to last."

And last it did, for the next couple of weeks I was treated to almost daily pedicures, foot massages or leg rubs, each one culminating in the painting of my toenails. Every two or three days Amanda treated me to an all over shaving, until, the fateful day when she decided shaving was no longer effective, on my legs at least. So from then on I had to endure weekly waxing. This I didn't, and still don’t enjoy. It was at least two weeks after the initial shaving that Mandy moved on to the next step. After finishing my feet she casually reached out for my hand and began painting my fingernails. I opened my mouth to object, after all, I could hardly appear in the shop with bright red nails. But Mandy anticipated my reticence and before I could speak she said, "Don't worry, you can take it off before you go to the store, it's just you have such sexy hands."

So that was it, for the next two weeks my fingernails were painted along with my toe nails every night. Once more I was given a couple of weeks to adjust to the changes, then one Saturday afternoon, we always closed the store at lunch time on Saturdays, for some reason business was quiet in the afternoon. Anyway, after we'd eaten lunch, and Mandy had once again put me through the torture of leg waxing, followed by the joy of a foot massage and the painting of my finger and toe nails, she walked over to the dressing table and opened a drawer. "I thought we'd see how you look in a pair of these Mikey." Smiling she unwrapped a pair of nylon stockings and approached me. I think she caught a glimpse of possible rebellion in my eyes because before I could open my mouth she added, "Of course if you'd rather not, it's just that I think you have such sexy legs and I've always wanted to see what they'd look like in stockings."

Any objection I might have had, melted into insignificance as her lower lip trembled slightly with apparent disappointment. I didn't speak, choosing instead to simply raise my foot toward her hand. She smiled her most devastating smile and kissed me before stepping back and rolling the stockings prior to pulling them up my legs. Oddly enough, despite the fact that she was dressing me in female attire, I felt the stirrings of sexual arousal as the soft material slid up my legs. By the time she'd pulled them both up and decided I needed a black lace suspender belt to hold them in place, I almost willingly stood up to help her pass the garment around my waist and secure the stockings to the straps.

For the rest of the weekend I wore the underwear, only removing the stockings briefly when Amanda painted my nails. If I'd needed any encouragement to continue wearing the stockings, I need look no further than Amanda's reaction during our lovemaking sessions that weekend. Obviously for me, every time we made love was pure joy, after all, I was making love to the nearest thing to an angel, I or anybody else was likely to see. But Amanda, while always seeming to enjoy out lovemaking, became more aroused than I've ever known her to before. These arousal's increased each time her hands slid down my body to touch the soft material of my stockings. So of course in my eyes the stockings became vital to my lover's welfare and I wore them constantly, just in case she ever wanted to make love.

It was around about that time that I noticed certain other changes, mostly physical, but also emotional. I found myself crying more easily at sad movies, and on more than one occasion I had tears in my eyes as I watched Amanda achieve orgasm, so deep was my love for her. It also seemed I needed to shave less often, my facial hair, never particularly heavy, now only needed removing every three to four days. And, while I couldn't swear to it, My chest appeared to be growing, as was my butt. I decided it couldn't be anything to do with my diet, because I was actually losing weight around my waist. When I mentioned it to Amanda, she suggested a visit to her doctor who declared it to be a slight hormonal imbalance and nothing to worry about. He didn't mention that it was his prescriptions, which were upsetting the balance, but then, I'm certain Amanda had had a word with him prior to my visit.

When I arrived home Mandy greeted me with a kiss. "Oh by the way darling, Doctor Fergusson rang, he suggested you might want to wear something to support your chest while your body corrects itself." I asked why he hadn't said anything while I was there, to which Amanda smiled, "He probably didn't want to embarrass you by telling you that you need to wear a bra. Anyway, you'll be pleased to know I went out and bought you a few outfits, to save you the embarrassment of having to go to a lingerie shop yourself. So it was that I found myself dressed full time in ladies underwear. Amanda pointed out, quite logically, that my male underpants looked ridiculous with all the pretty female clothing, so I began wearing matching panties and bra along with my stockings and suspenders.

Over the next few weeks I became accustomed to my new clothing, and to be honest, I couldn't tell you exactly when it was that Amanda threw out all my male underwear. I just happened to notice one day that the drawer was full of female clothing, I shrugged and picked up a pretty pink bra and matching panties. Although I was still blissfully unaware of the fact, I had now been taking the female hormones for several months and in fact, had developed quite pronounced breasts. Amanda remarked on them one day suggesting that maybe I was becoming a little round shouldered, and I, in an emotional state, assumed she was criticizing me and burst into tears before running into the bedroom and throwing myself on the bed. This was the closest I'd ever come to having an argument with Amanda and that only increased my depression. But within seconds Mandy was sitting beside me on the bed stroking my hair.

"Please don't be upset darling," She begged, "I wasn't complaining about your body, simply commenting on it. You know how sexy I think you are and believe me you've never looked sexier than you do right now. I'll tell you what, perhaps you'll feel better if you have some support for your back, until you get used to the extra weight." I brightened somewhat, not at her suggestion that I needed back support, but because her stroking had progressed down my back and over my behind and she was now unfastening my trousers. Although these days I seemed less easily aroused, Mandy's ministrations usually did the trick eventually. After we'd made love and rested for a while, Mandy had me try on several corsets before deciding on a particularly feminine black satin one.

In case you're wondering why my lovely wife owned corsets when, as I've mentioned, she has a perfect body, it's because she enjoys the feeling of wearing one sometimes and as she tightened the corset around my lower chest and waist, I could appreciate her pleasure. There was something exciting about having a sexy corset gradually pull in your body, controlling you almost against your will and holding you no matter how you try to resist. In fact, the whole experience was so exciting that, by the time Mandy had finished tightening the garment I was becoming aroused again, and as she finished attaching my stockings to the corset, her hand slid around to my erection and she pushed me gently back onto the bed.

Before long I was wearing the corsets, I now owned several of my own, under my clothes when I went to work, but then came another problem, very few of my clothes fitted me any more. The odd thing was, when I tried to buy male clothing, trousers and jeans in particular, they wouldn't fit. When I found a pair that fitted my waist, they were too small to get over my hips, and obviously, when they went over my hips they were far too big around the waist. Mandy suggested the obvious solution; I would have to wear women's slacks, which naturally fitted very well. She also suggested that, since I often complained about how tight they were around the crutch, that when I was at home I might prefer to wear wrap arounds. Since this wasn't actually a skirt, I agreed, clutching onto my last remaining vestige of masculinity, but then, as you would expect, before very long Amanda had me wearing skirts. I usually wore them with oversize sweaters, since I'd taken to wearing these to the store, to hide the fact that I was wearing a bra. But before long Amanda suggested that it was ridiculous for me to suffer in such hot clothing when I could just as easily wear light blouses at home. As always, Amanda won and I began wearing silk and satin blouses at home and yes, you've guessed it, In no time I was also wearing dresses.

Oddly enough, I can't really be sure when or indeed how Amanda persuaded me to wear high-heeled shoes. It was like all the other changes in my life, one day I was wearing sneakers, the next, 2" heels, and before long, 3" and on a few very rare occasions, 4". Though these were always for very short periods and always ended in intense lovemaking especially from Mandy who seemed to take particular delight in my breasts, which she fondled and sucked constantly as she became more and more aroused. When I complained that the nipples were sore she actually seemed to increase the fervour with which she attacked them, so I decided it might be best not to mention the soreness any more. As the hormones took even greater effect, my erections were no longer as frequent or sustained. This horrified me since I thought that perhaps Mandy might think I didn't love her any more. When I suggested this to her, she laughed it off admitting, for the first time, that she actually preferred oral sex anyway.

For the next month or more, we settled into a pattern. Apart from the waxing and nail polish, I now had the added burden of arriving home and stripping off my male style clothing to replace it with female. There were many nights when I would have preferred not to have to change, but I did, if only for Mandy's sake. Then one evening, after an especially busy day I broached the subject with Amanda, "You know sweetheart, there are times when I really don't feel like changing my clothes, would you mind very much if I didn't occasionally?"

Amanda smiled and hugged me tightly. "Of course not darling, I was hoping you'd suggest it. But there is a small problem, I mean, you really will have to learn to put make up on if you're going to dress as a female all the time. I'll tell you what, why don't I give you your first lesson right after dinner? And then…."

"No darling, you don't understand." I interrupted.

The expression on her face told me I would never be capable of disappointing her now, so I said, "Sorry darling, what were you saying?"

The excitement returned to her face and she continued, "Well I was thinking, I could do your make up for you each morning, you know, just until you learn to do it yourself."

And so it was decided, from that day onwards Michael left the store and was replaced by Michelle, and since we had very few friends, and the people who came to the shop regularly were all too polite to mention it, the transition went quite smoothly. Within a few weeks I was able to apply my own make up, though occasionally Amanda needed to give me a few pointers. She seemed to take real delight in making love to me in full make up, mine of course not hers, and then one night as we lay in each others arms, Mandy naked and me in corset, stockings and full make up, she said softly. "You know Mikey, I really love you for all you're doing for me, and I almost hate to ask this."

"Ask away darling, you know I'll do anything for you."

"I know you will, and don't think I don't appreciate the sacrifices you've made for me. But, well I was speaking to Doctor F this afternoon,"

I tensed, "You're okay aren't you sweetheart?" I asked, concerned.

"Of course I am, I was asking about you silly."

"About me, what about me?"

"Well I was wondering how much bigger your breasts will become and…"

I sat up, "Look sweetheart, I've tried everything I can, they just don't seem to get any smaller…"

Amanda laughed and kissed my face. "You really are sweet, I don't want them to get smaller, I want them bigger."

"Bigger? I don't understand, I thought…"

"No silly, now be quiet and let me have my say. Now I know that when you agreed to become a woman there was no mention of surgery." I stared at her unable to speak as I absorbed this latest piece of information. "But, well the truth is I would like you to have your breasts enlarged. Don't look so worried, Doctor F says it's an almost painless operation and only takes an overnight stay in hospital, and I was hoping…"

I finally managed to speak, "What exactly do you mean, when I agreed to become a woman?"

Amanda looked confused for a second, then smiled and said. "You remember sweetheart, I said to you I wonder what it would be like to make love to a woman and you said you wished you could help in some way." She kissed me on the lips. "And you have and don't think I don't appreciate it but, well anyway, just say you'll think about it, you don't have to answer right away." She reached up and pulled my head down onto her breasts, "And don't worry, I don't want you to have your thing cut off, not unless you want to of course."

That was almost three months ago, as you've probably guessed I had the breast enlargement, I now have a set of 36c breasts, and oddly enough, I'm quite proud of them. To date I've succeeded in avoiding the ultimate cut, though you and I both know, if Amanda ever decides she wants me to have it… Well, hopefully that day will never come, in the meantime I'm still blissfully happy being married to the most beautiful woman in the world, even though we now get some strange looks when we walk down the street together hand in hand. Well, you can't please everyone.

 

THE END.

 

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