Imitation Wife          by: Farah Daye

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Carrie, a male nursing student with a talent for female impersonation, is coerced into helping a teacher out by masquerading as his wife. When she discovers his deceit and the part she is really playing, will she struggle to escape his mysterious house? Alternatively, will she willingly succumb to a life that just might be her wildest fantasy?

--FarahD

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Imitation Wife, Part 1

I tried my best to look calm but it wasn't working at all. The hard- eyed man across the desk from kept staring at me, looking up and down, and boring his gaze right into me. I looked down at my legs to avoid unnecessary eye contact. I wore my off-white pantyhose and clunky white nurse's shoes. I had a thin bracelet just above my left ankle. I played nervously with the buttons on my cardigan and made little adjustments to my uniform. We nurses rarely wear dresses for uniforms now. We all wear pants, even the students. But tonight was special and wearing our white dresses was part of the tradition. The school administrator droned on. He had me skewered and he was savoring it.

I knew that I might be caught and that what I had done was reckless. But it was irresistible! Two of the other nursing students and I planned it for two weeks. When the time came for our prank, it was perfect. Nobody in the audience realized what we had done. Nursing schools have their honored traditions and this night had been the night that one of those traditions was enacted. It was capping night. All the women students, and that is nearly the entire student body, walked onto the stage, one by one, to receive their nurse's caps and their school pins.

The capping ceremony resembles a graduation. It's a special part of a female nursing student's junior year. The male students have to sit in the audience with the beaming parents and spouses. Only the female students, resplendent in their starched white dresses, receive their caps.

As I walked on to the stage, shook the School Administrator's hand, and then waited to accept a cap. He faltered for just a second. My name wasn't on the list. He was a cool head and barely missed a step. He handed me a cap and whispered, "Young lady, I'll see you in my office after the ceremony."

So there I was. He showed controlled fury. Did I realize how embarrassing this would have been for the school if anyone found out? Who helped me with this? What were their names? How often had I been doing this? Why had I done it? He went on and on. I tugged gently on an earring and crossed my legs again.

I was not one of the women students. I was one of a handful of male students. The girls who helped me had a wonderful time keeping the secret, preparing me for the ceremony, and helping me look like one of the women students. They provided everything that I needed. I was very thin, midway between a woman's size 8 and size 10. And luckily, I had small feet for a guy, women's size 9-M fit me easily. The girls thought it was a cute practical joke and some sort of protest. It was more than that to me but I couldn't share it with them.

I wanted to be a woman. It's both that simple and that complex. It's simple because in my heart, I knew that I had the soul of a woman. I dressed as a woman at every possible opportunity. I learned how to pass in public, how to talk like a woman, and smoothly adjusted the pitch and timbre of my voice to the appropriate range, I knew how to move as a woman. I used their gestures and their speech mannerisms.

The girls noticed that my eyebrows were thinned but they didn't say anything. It wasn't an unusual feature nowadays nor were my pierced ears. Everyone has pierced ears now. I had my eyebrows waxed last year. I can partially disguise it with eyebrow pencil and large tinted glasses. Of course, as a male student, I didn't have to live in the dorm. The school hadn't arrived in the 90's yet. It required all the unmarried women students to live in the dorms. So they didn't know that I was transgendered outside of school. Many of my neighbors must have thought that I lived with my girlfriend because they saw 'her' coming and going so often. She was the one who did the shopping while he was the one who left for school each morning.

The truth is that I didn't have a girlfriend. Sometimes I went out with a group of other transgendered folks whom I knew really well. We went clubbing and often ended up at the gay clubs to go dancing. Those clubs were safe for people like us. Some of my friends were just not as passable as I was. As I began to present myself as a woman more often in public, I wanted to be seen with men to validate my gender identity. The more feminine I became the more I was attracted to men. I compulsively role-played handsome men making love to me in endless daydreams. I had two platonic boyfriends so far. A simple goodnight kiss was as close as I had ever been to real interaction with a man.

I suppose it was the traditionally feminine image of nursing that attracted me to it. Every aspect of the feminine called to me.

The School Administrator jarred me out of my reverie by saying "I can expel you for this stunt," you know.

"Yes, sir, I know."

"You did quite a job of camouflage on yourself. Quite a job," he said with obvious admiration. Your voice is good, the way you carry yourself, quite a job. You look very natural."

"Thank you." I grinned but immediately suppressed it, feeling a little sheepish.

"Your little situation presents me with an opportunity. I'm in a major bind. I need a little help. You might be able to help me and help yourself in the process."

"Would I avoid being thrown out of school? Is that where this is leading?" I asked, not thinking to ask what kind of help he wanted.

"Yes, I think so. I think we might forget about this. Let me tell you what my problem is and give you a little time to think about it."

"Yes, please," I said and smiled a tiny smile.

"You pass just about anywhere you go, I'd guess. Is that true?" he said.

"Yes, I've been doing it for awhile."

"You're not gay, are you?" he asked. "It doesn't matter. I'm just curious. You don't have to answer."

"No, I'm not. I do female impersonations at a trannie lounge on Tuesday nights. It's amateur night Lots of fun!." I half lied because I knew that I wanted a man to make love to me. But I reasoned that if I were really a woman then I couldn't be gay.

"I didn't think so. I can usually spot it. Because I am."

I was a little stunned but tried not to let it show. Just what did he have in mind anyway? I was getting very nervous.

"Oh no!" he laughed, "Don't even worry about it. It's not what you think. I just need someone to stand in for a fictitious woman for a couple of days. Nobody is going to touch you or do anything you don't want. It's really very mundane."

"What do you mean by stand in?" I asked.

"I have friends who are drag queens or dress up for their own reasons. They're a little over the top. But you are as good as I've ever seen. Ordinary people can read my friends. Does anyone ever read you?"

"Hasn't happened yet!" I said. I blushed. "I don't try to look unusual, just to blend in."

"Your blush makes you look very pretty," he said, smiling at me.

Then I really blushed. We both laughed, finally breaking the ice.

"Look," he said, "As I said, I have a nasty problem. My uptight old aunt is coming out to visit me for three days. She's a fundy, you know, moral majority, religious right, old bag fanatic. You get the drift. She thinks I'm married. I had to let her think that. If she knew the truth, she'd cut me out of her will so fast that your head would spin. I need somebody who is very passable to impersonate my wife. Somebody like you. I had a friend who said she would help me out but she backed out at the last minute and stranded me."

My mind raced. It was almost a dream come true to see what it would be like to be someone's wife. But how could I sleep in the same bed with a guy? Was I ready for that yet? How would something like this work and what else would I have to do to make it convincing? "I'll do it," I blurted out. My whole body went taut with fear for a second. Then it relaxed. Somehow I knew this would be fun and that there was nothing to worry about. I kept wondering why he didn't find a real girl for the job or just hire someone.

"When is your aunt coming out here?"

"She'll be here in four days. It might be a good idea to come over to my home before that. You'll need to learn your way around it to look like you've lived there. And you'll have to bring plenty of clothing, makeup, whatever you need."

"I can come over tomorrow if that's not too early." I was excited. I didn't want to look it but it was like a daydream coming true. Even if only for a week, I could play the wife. What fun!

"Wonderful! I'm looking forward to it. You're a doll to help me out on this. One more thing, hon', before you go. I need you to drop a few snapshots of yourself by my office tomorrow morning, okay?"

Imagine that. He called me a doll! It gave me the chills. I liked it. In the bars, the guys called me doll, honey or sweetie. But it really didn't mean anything. They called each other by the same endearments. This was my one-week pretend husband and he thought that I was a doll. That meant something. It was delicious.

I drove home quickly and began to pack. I packed a huge load of clothing, not knowing if we'd go out or what might be expected of me. I even packed a black party dress and dressy sandals just in case. There was no need to pack a wig. My own hair while not very long was layered and very easy to style in a feminine way. I was expert at that. I combed it into bangs, and teased the rest of it to give it more body. I thought that I might put some highlights in it and packed my friend, Miss Clairol. It would be fun to highlight my hair again.

I intended to go over to his house en femme, of course, but casual in jeans and a tee. Instead, I changed my mind and put on a short black jumper with a beige tee and matching tights. I wore maryjane shoes with casual 1-1/2-inch heels. A few touchups to my makeup and some fussing with my hair and I was all set! I would blend in anywhere.

 

 

The First Day

Tim was young for a school administrator, this side of 35 I guessed. I think if I was a real girl, I'd have called him cute. He was clean- shaven, about six feet tall, with short, light brown hair and green eyes. He would definitely do for a pretend husband.

"You really cannot call me Sir any more! Just call me Tim. That's my name. And I'll call you Carrie instead of Gary. Okay?"

"Okay," and I flashed him a big smile.

"Carrie, just have fun with this. You're an actress here and you're helping me so much. I'm sorry that I used a little unfair pressure on you."

"Weren't you going to expel me for the prank?" I asked.

"Truthfully, no. I liked your spunk. I didn't want to ruin your nursing career. So now that you know, do you want to back out?"

"No. Tim, I don't. I think you sensed that anyway, didn't you?"

Then it was Tim's turn to grin.

"Honey, let's have some dinner and then relax for awhile. Then I can show you around the house. You're the Lady of The House you know. You don't mind being called Honey, right? I mean we're supposed to be husband and wife. Would you rather I call you Sweetie? Babe? We won't be convincing as a couple without a few endearments like that."

We were both laughing by then! I felt confident that my brief masquerade would be nothing but fun.

"Okay, Honey it is. I forgot to mention that you should bring something formal. Aunt Catherine will want to go out for an elegant dinner at least once."

I assured him that I had packed a lovely black dress and then set about familiarizing myself with the kitchen and making dinner. He hadn't said anything but there was a role to play, a traditional role, a role I was dying to play.

After dinner we sipped creamy lattes and I asked him the little question that was troubling me. "What sort of sleeping arrangements will there be? I imagine that your Aunt would think it odd if I slept downstairs on the couch. The alternative makes me a little nervous though."

Tim smiled at me. "There's a king-sized bed in the master bedroom. Until she arrives, you can sleep in the guestroom and after, well, the bed is so big we'll be miles apart! And I won't touch you. I already promised. I know you're an actress playing a part and I'm grateful that you agreed to it. How does this all sound to you?"

"Tim, I can sleep in the same bed as you tonight. I need to get used to it to be able to appear at ease. I'll be fine. So, do you snore? I don't!"

"Honey", I said, with a lot of emphasis on the word, "can I ask you a little question?"

"Sure, anything," he answered.

"I noticed when I unpacked my bags that there was already half a closet full of women's clothing in the bedroom. Is that, umm, yours? I mean, do you dress?"

"No, doll, I don't dress. Besides, I'm a big guy with broad shoulders, not a skinny kid like you. Don't worry about the clothes, okay."

"I was just curious", I said.

He snapped "Well, don't be!" so I just dropped it. But I worried about it.

The first night, I climbed into the huge bed in a silky nightie.

"Pretty seductive sleepwear, sweetie," he said.

"I know. But you're not attracted to girls! Sweet dreams, dear." And I dozed off.

 

The Second Day

I had a lovely sleep and awoke refreshed. By the time I had finished showering and dressing, Tim was already up. I offered to make us breakfast. Soon we were enjoying a pair of lattes again in the living room. Despite the caffeine, drinking lattes always put me in a languid mood. I wore a pair of tight jeans and a peasant blouse. I had been sitting in the bay window while Tim sat on the couch. Tim motioned for me to join him. I walked over and he then reached over and took the coffee cup from my hand. He placed it on the table and turned toward me. I wasn't prepared for what happened next. Tim put his arm around me. I wondered how he defined "And I won't touch you" when he said it yesterday. I pulled back slightly.

Tim looked annoyed. "Look, honey", he said, "I'm just not into being close to women, okay? So I asked you to help me. I know that you can pull this charade off easily. But, you know, nobody's going to buy it if we don't act friendly. Make sense to you?"

"You're right, Tim, I'm sorry. I'll get used to it." I said.

"Okay, Hon, cause we don't have very much time to learn our parts." he said.

Then I kissed his cheek. He was surprised at that. "You're a quick study, Carrie!"

Tim made the next move by kissing me right on the lips. I didn't pull back that time. I just went with my instincts and returned his kiss with all the feeling that I could manage. All my lovely daydreams suddenly became real. Our tongues sought each other and we embraced tightly. A thousand memories of fantasy role-playing flashed through my mind. I was an actress. I kept repeating it to myself. Actress. Just an actress. Nevertheless, at that moment I was a very vulnerable and suggestible actress.

I knew that we would be touching, kissing, and hugging for his Aunt's benefit. Also, I had my own agenda. I was so eager to experience life as a married woman. I did not want to decide yet about my future path. I might live transgendered and always present myself to the world outwardly as female or as transsexual and go for surgery. I was attracted to both sexes but I fantasized only male sex partners when I was acting as a woman. You don't take decisions like that lightly.

There I was kissing a man and relishing it. It was intoxicating me. We kissed again and embraced each other gently. Tim ran his hands through my hair. He gently squeezed my breasts. He was surprised to discover than I had feminine breasts. Under the loose clothing and sweatshirts that I wore to school, nobody would have noticed the implants. They were modest in size but very real. I was impatient with the hormones and testosterone blockers that I was taking. I wanted them to do their work more quickly. The implants made me feel more confident.

I moaned softly and stroked his leg. I began to feel more and more attraction to him. I wanted him so much. That was frightening and unfamiliar territory. I seemed to be in the mindset of a woman just as I had dreamed of it for years. And it was happening. Why did I have a twinge of fright? Never mind that, I decided to seduce him openly. I almost felt compelled to continue as if the latte had been drugged. Ridiculous, of course. I didn't care any more. "Sweetheart, I want you to feel closer to me. I want so much to make you happy. Show me; teach me what to do. Teach me how to make love to you."

Tim guided my hand to his crotch where I undid his zipper and moved closer to him with my waiting lips. "Are you sure?" he said. "Yes, oh heaven, yes" I sighed. He felt the passion too. He pulled my hand against him. All my restraint was gone. I wanted my husband. I wanted him sexually. I wanted to feel my husband moving inside of me. I wanted to wrap my legs around him and kiss him deeply. I wanted him to overwhelm me with masculine power. I wanted him to make me his real wife.

As he began to undress me I caressed him with more intensity. I reached for him slowly. This is your husband, I kept thinking. I am your wife and I want you. He rolled on top of me and put his arms around me. It was an incredible sensation for me. A few minutes later, he was throbbing between my legs. We felt like husband and wife. I forgot ever having been a boy. We stayed there for a long time, gently caressing and kissing.

That night Tim taught me the basics about how to make love to him. We fell asleep in each others arms. I had a lot to think about. My head was so cloudy that volition was impossible that night. I just did whatever he suggested and everything that he wished me to do.

The second day went by quickly. That night we slept naked in each other's arms again. In just one more day his aunt would arrive and he'd show off his lovely new wife. I planned to wear a silky tee with cap sleeves and a brown broomstick skirt with my brown tights. I wanted to look sweet and feminine. I already knew how hard it would be to end our masquerade. "Honey, make love to me again," I whispered. I told him how much I loved him. It was quite real and I loved to say it. Then our tongues met in a long delicious kiss and I started to pull his pants down. At least I think it was real. I enjoyed the sound of it. Maybe it was just play-acting, but I was so excited to feel like a complete woman.

My taboos came crashing down yet again. I had let a man hold me and kiss me. At first, he had been reluctant to make love to me, sensing my nervousness and total lack of experience. I was glad of that because I was a little frightened. I just held him throbbing between my legs. It made me feel so gloriously feminine. His sensitivity and caring was so dear to me. Then I gave in to the moment and urged him to penetrate me. I needed fulfillment. I needed a joining. Last night I let a man enter me and make love to me. I did all the sensual things that he asked of me and surrendered to him completely.

The next morning I teased him often, a caress here, a soft kiss there. It felt very natural and made us both smile. I knew that he'd be picking up his aunt soon. The real act was about to begin. I was doing the little affectionate things than any new bride would do.

I finally saw why he had wanted snapshots of me. One of his friends fudged some wedding pictures by blending our faces into existing images with software. It was a cute touch. I kept staring at one of the pictures that showed me as a bride. I would be thinking of them every time that we smooched for his Aunt. We were newlyweds. Let the show begin!

 

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Imitation Wife, Part 2

The Third Day

I heard a car in the driveway. That had to be Tim bringing his Aunt Catherine back from the airport. Tim carried all her heavy luggage into the house. I was thinking "I'm a girl. I don't have to do that!" Advantage: Carrie. I saw her standing beside the car. She hardly looked intimidating. She looked like an ordinary, quiet lady in her mid-50's. She had probably been very pretty at one time. Even now she was striking. She did look a little repressed though or possibly just uncomfortable. I'd do my best to be a lovely hostess.

Aunt Catherine's voice seemed strangely masculine. I heard them talking but it seemed like I was in another world. They were meaningless fragments, soft voices that were very far away, whispering that had no meaning to me. I was strangely tired. All I could think about was my new husband and how I yearned to please him. So far away… those fragments… those whispers…

. "She's a lovely one, dear. Where did you ever find her? …And so easy to persuade you say? How delicious. I'd love to have at her myself, honey. Too bad it's your turn. …Yes, yes, we're getting it all on video. We haven't missed one tasty minute of it. …Why don't you keep her when we wrap it? We could even do her up a little differently and use her again in other videos. Of course, you could always give her to me. I wouldn't let this little honey get away. Are you honestly telling me the other night was her first time? I do think she has a gift. An absolute doll. We must convince her to stay. …Well, of course, we can keep on doing that! She reacted so predictably to our little mind drugs so far. She'll continue to have no willpower whatsoever. Its just so much yummier if they stay on their own."

What might happen next, my dear readers? Our heroine, sweet Carrie, is so languid and suggestible after drinking the drugged lattes. The poor girl is unaware of the part that she really plays. Perhaps if she were aware, she'd be thrilled to live her dearest fantasy at last.

Carrie might discover a scrapbook full of pictures of earlier wives, news articles, videotapes, and storyboard sketches. They may all be girlish male students who dropped out of school and disappeared forever. But whatever happened to them? Moreover, what might happen to our pretty little heroine now?

(c) 1997 Farah Daye

 

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