Repositioning

by Emily Ross

 

"I'm not wearing stockings," I protested.

"Honey, let's not argue about this," Louise said calmly.

"I don't want to argue, Lou. I'm just not wearing stockings." I tried to be firm.

"But, Robbie, remember what we both agreed," she countered.

"Maybe but I'm not wearing stockings," I said.

"Well there's the front door," she said pointing. "It's either the door or the stockings. Make your mind up."

I chose the stockings. And suspenders. Maybe Louise was bluffing but I just couldn't take the risk. You see six months ago Louise had found out about Carol and me. It was only a fling; a short fling at that. Carol meant nothing to me. God only knows why I let myself get drawn into it and I still don't know how Louise found out.

Anyway it doesn't matter now.

Louise told me that if I wanted to save our marriage I had to do exactly as she said. What was the alternative? I knew that if we split up she'd get half the house, half the car, half my bank account and half of my future earnings. But I wouldn't get half of her salary (which is more than mine) or half of possessions. Divorce? I couldn't afford divorce.

So I agreed to her suggestion. All this because of a slut like Carol.

Back to the stockings. For the third time I gave in and ten minutes later I was wearing black opaque stockings and a black suspender belt with my back on over the top.

The third time?

Yes I'd already given in twice before. The first time Louise said that I had to wear panties. Yes, women's panties and she bought me panties in a variety of colours and styles. For the past six months I'd worn panties all the time, even to work.

All my male underpants were thrown away.

The second time she said that I had to wear a bra. Yes, a women's brassiere and she bought me all sorts of bras. I had to wear one all the time.

So on the day in question, as well as the afore-mentioned stockings and suspender belt, I was wearing a black bra and matching black satin panties – all underneath my T-shirt and jeans of course. Fortunately the T-shirt was a navy blue colour so you couldn't see the bra through it and only if you looked very closely at my shoulders could you make out the line of my bra straps.

I'd soon got used to wearing a bra, of course. And now I would have to get used to the tug of the suspender belt.

Nobody at wok had a clue about my underwear. Although normal attire in the office is a smart shirt and smart trousers, I always made sure that I wore shirts that completely hid my bra.

It might have stopped at the panties, bra, suspenders and stockings if it hadn't been for Janice. Janice was a new colleague at the office. She sat at the desk next to mine and we worked closely together. Soon she was flirting with me – little did she know I was secretly wearing a bra, panties, stockings and suspenders.

I flirted back. My confidence had been shattered by Louise finding out about Carol and her unusual demands. It was nice to be flattered. Janice and I went to lunch together a few times. Honestly it was nothing more than that.

Then somebody told Louise.

She was waiting for me one evening when I got in from work. She called me all the names under the sun and then said that she'd bought me some new trousers. She said they were upstairs on the bed and I should go and put them on.

I went upstairs and there on the bed was a pair of black trousers. I believe they are sometimes called slacks. Women's slacks. With a zip at the side. Reluctantly I took off my work trousers and put on the slacks, pulling them up over my stockings. I did up the zip, put my shoes back on and went downstairs to show Louise.

"They look great," she said.

I didn't quite know how to take this compliment.

"You'll be wearing trousers like that from now on."

"What?" I asked incredulously. "Even to work?"

"Yes, Robbie, even to work," she said firmly.

"But, but, but …" I stammered.

"No buts, Robbie, you look fine."

"But you're feminising me," I complained.

"No. I'm just 'repositioning' you so that you're not unfaithful to me again. I'd hoped that the panties, bra and stockings would be enough. But obviously I need to go on to phase two."

Louise bought me some more slacks and some women's jeans. I wore the slacks to work. Nobody said anything. Perhaps they didn't notice. But as the slacks didn't have pockets I had to put my things in a men's shoulder bag that Louise had bought me. It seemed little different from a woman's handbag.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Phase two was over, I thought. I was wrong of course.

My hair was getting quite long. Louise had said that I couldn't get it cut. It was over my ears, nearly down to my ear lobes. It looked quite a mess and I was glad when Louise said that it needed to be cut.

"I've made an appointment for you at Suzette's," she announced. Suzette was Louise's hairdresser. I knew this wasn't good news. Then she added, "I think blonde highlights would really suit you."

I didn't dare complain. I knew the choice. Have the highlights done or financial penury. For life.

So the following Monday I went in to work wearing women's slacks over panties, stockings and suspenders. Under my shirt I wore a lacy white bra and my hair had been styled and highlighted.

Only Janice seemed to notice. "I love the new look," she said.

I was tempted to say it was all her fault but I kept my own counsel on the matter.

But this wasn't the end of phase two. Far from it. It now felt normal to me to wear a bra, suspenders and stockings. On the rare occasions that I wasn't wearing them, it felt strange. Not that I wasn't wearing them for long. The only time I didn't wear them was when I was getting ready for bed and I'd put my nightie on.

I didn't tell you about the nightie did I? That was the next step and again I gave in.

From now on I slept in diaphanous or satin nightwear. Nobody else could see me so it didn't matter. Did it?

Of course, it didn't. I was just as much a man as when I wasn't wearing women's clothes.

It seemed that almost every other day Louise was suggesting something new as part of my 'repositioning.' Within a month I was wearing clear nail varnish; my nails were longer and neatly manicured, I'd started wearing a little perfume and just a brush of mascara.

Then I wore a little more make-up. It was under-stated and I went for the natural look. I started wearing flat women's shoes all the time. They looked a little like men's shoes but they were definitely women's. I wore a delicate bracelet on my right wrist that couldn't be mistaken for a man's.

Louise bought me a woman's watch and insisted that I wear it. I started wearing plain stockings rather than black ones but I had to shave my legs first. Soon my whole body was hairless as I executed a regime of shaving all over. Then Louise bought me some women's blouses. They were plain and either cream, white or pale blue. They could almost be mistaken for a man's shirt but I now realised that I was no longer wearing anything masculine.

Looking in the mirror I saw a flat-chested androgynous figure. Was my 'repositioning' complete?

Louise now began to calling me Bobbi. Janice even started calling me Bobbi at work and then it caught on with all my colleagues. Louise even started referring to me as a female saying things like, "Good girl," to compliment me.

The next time we went to Suzette's salon, I sat in the chair and Suzette put the cape over me. Louise said, "Just a little trim and touch up her highlights, please, Suzette. Can you pluck her eyebrows too?"

I was now a 'she.' Once more I didn't get a say and my 'repositioning' was continuing.

Next I had my ears pierced and from then on I wore big hoop earrings. Louise gave me a cute necklace for my birthday which I wore regularly after that.

My hair was now down to my shoulders. The reflection in the mirror was still androgynous and flat-chested but she looked more feminine than masculine. There,

you see. I was now thinking of myself as a she.

One evening I returned from work and Louise said she had another present for me.

She gave me a box in which were two breastforms. I guess they were a size C or D.

I gasped.

"I don't want you to wear them now but sometime soon, you'll want to wear them," she said.

I smiled to myself. No way would I want to wear these breast forms.

The following weekend we went to the shopping mall together. We visited several clothes shops just browsing until Louise asked me, "Do you think you're ready for skirts yet?"

"Skirts? No. I'm a guy not a girl," I protested.

"Honey, look at yourself. You're wearing make-up, perfume, jewellery, nail varnish, a bra, panties, suspenders, stockings, court shoes, a blouse and slacks. You're carrying a handbag, your ears are pierced and you're wearing a girl's watch. Are you a guy or a girl?"

A tear slid down my cheek. I knew it. I could no longer pretend that I was Robbie. I was Bobbi.

"Look, Bobbi," my wife said. "I know you'd look good in a skirt. And heels too. Not for work. Only around the house of course. And you'll need to if you are to complete your 'repositioning.' But I agree that you're not ready quite yet."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"What I suggest is that we buy a few skirts for you today. I know your size. You needn't try them on. I'll put them away in your wardrobe until you feel ready to wear them. Is that fair?"

I nodded.

"Then we'll get you a couple of pairs of shoes. OK?"

I nodded again. I didn't mind about the shoes. It was the skirts I objected to. I was relieved that Louise wasn't forcing me to wear skirts.

I watched as Louise gathered up a few skirts in my size; a knee length black one, another was calf length and a couple of short minis. Then she chose a few tops for me before picking up a pink cotton summer dress. I daren't think how much it all cost but Louise has a well paid job.

Then we went across to a shoe shop where I tried on a pair of white strappy sandals with a three inch heel and a pair of black patent leather pumps with a four inch spike.

Both fitted me very well but I found it hard to stand up in either pair let alone walk.

"We'll take both pairs," Louise told the assistant.

All the new clothes were hung up in my wardrobe. The two pairs of shoes were hidden on the wardrobe floor. I told myself that I'd never wear a skirt or stilettos.

After that Louise rarely put me under any pressure about my 'repositioning.'

Occasionally she asked me to wear some bright red lipstick or maybe some pink nail varnish. Once or twice she lent me a pair of her dangly ear-rings. Suzette kept my hair at shoulder length.

But that was it. I was still Bobbi, the flat-chested androgyne. Louise even bought me some tights; she said that they were more practical than suspenders and I guess she was right. I still worked in the same office. Nobody seemed to treat me any differently except they called me Bobbi and once Janice asked me if I wanted to come out on a hen night with the other girls in the office. I tried to soften my voice and make it a little more androgynous.

Life was good. Amazingly our sex lives were better than ever. Louise seems to like her husband sleeping in a satin nightie and often we slept in matching outfits.

One Saturday in summer, Louise had been called into work for an emergency meeting. The house was hot and stuffy and I was uncomfortable in my shoes, slacks, top, tights and bra. Air-conditioning is rare in England and we don't have any. It was so hot that my make-up was running.

I was fixing myself a cool drink in the kitchen when I remembered the summer dress that Louise had bought me and I had kept in my wardrobe. 'Would it be more comfortable on a day like today?' I wondered.

Perhaps I could try it on. Louise would never know. I went upstairs and stripped to my bra and panties. I opened the wardrobe and took out the pale pink summer dress. Then I spotted the white sandals. Five minutes later I was admiring the dress and heels in the mirror. They felt good – much cooler than trousers. I tied my hair in two bunches so that it didn't hang over my shoulders. This was cooler too. I tied each of the bunches in a pink ribbon in a bow.

I decided to keep the dress and sandals on and to keep my hair in the bunches.

When Louise got back from work she was fulsome in her praise of my new look.

"You are a pretty girl," she said to me and urged me to keep the dress on all day.

I needed no persuasion. I had already decided that the dress was the right thing to wear on a hot day.

Of course now that I had voluntarily worn a dress, the last taboo was broken. Louise suggested that I start wearing skirts in the house instead of the slacks. She said my legs were great. I was happy to oblige. As the hot weather continued I had three favourite skirts that I wore around the house. They were a mid-thigh blue denim miniskirt, a black mid thigh mini – tight with a slit at the back – and a pink pleated mini that was the shortest of the lot.

Louise taught me how to sit down without creasing the skirt, how to sit so that the rest of the room couldn't see my panties, how to walk in high heels and how to swing my hips as I did so.

One day I looked in the mirror and decided that something else was required to complete my look – the breast forms. I found them in a drawer and stuffed them into the cups of my bra. I'd been wearing a bra for nearly a year for no reason at all. I pulled down my top and admired myself in the mirror.

I was now all girl and a pretty one at that. Louise loved my breasts. She wanted to stroke them saying that my 'repositioning' was nearly complete.

She said it was time to quit my job. Suzette was looking for a trainee who wanted to learn about hairdressing. The pay wouldn't be much for two years but after that would be very good. It would be a good career for Bobbi.

She asked me if I'd be interested.

"Yes," I replied.

"That's good, because I've already told Suzette that you'd like the job and you start at 9 o'clock on Monday morning." She smiled at me. "Oh, by the way, you will be expected to wear a short skirt and high heels. Is that OK?"

I was suddenly anxious. I'd never been out in a skirt.

"Don't worry. You'll be fine. You've got great legs."

I smiled. "Thanks. Monday morning it is then."

So now I work at the hairdressers. I'm nearly qualified as a bona fide stylist. Working at the hairdressers is great because I can get my hair done, have a facial or a manicure any time I like. At the moment my hair is red with blonde streaks. It looks so cool. And what am I wearing? A really short skirt, of course. It's a good job I won't get time to sit down today; it's so short my panties would show. And I've got a brand new pair of stiletto heeled boots that I'm wearing.

And how are things with Louise? Great. She loves me looking pretty. Sometimes she even borrows one of my short skirts. Only round the house of course. She looks so sexy. She knows I wouldn't get involved with any other women – what chance have I got dressed like this?

Louise says that my 'repositioning' is not quite complete. She says that won't happen until the two of us go on a double date with Charlie and Harry, two guys from her office. Apparently Charlie is always flirting with her and asking if she's got a friend for Harry. She says he's a hunk but the shy, silent type.

Will it happen? I don't know. Never say never but I'm not ready for that sort of thing yet. Now if you'll excuse I've got a client…

  

  

  

*********************************************
© 2004 by Emily Ross. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.