CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"But Sandy -- I can’t work THERE!" Dale protested. "I’d just DIE if any of the guys recognized me, and th-then there’s th-the outfits!"
"They’re hiring, we need the money, and it’s a job you can handle," Dale’s spouse replied. "There’s nothing else in the ‘help wanted’ section you can handle, and believe me, none of your friends could possibly recognize you now -- not with that rack and those legs," she chuckled. Sandy was amused at the idea of her feminized little husband working as a waitress in the very bar where he once hung out with his other chauvinist friends, and she grinned as she checked out his growing breasts.
Dale blushed furiously and glanced down at his blossoming bustline. His boobs had expanded at least one full cup size since his trip to the mall, a mere three days ago, and were now at least a C cup. His new bras were full to overflowing, and they were becoming uncomfortably tight. Even worse, the larger they got the more his breasts bounced and jiggled when he moved, and the more he needed a bra. And there was no end in sight. Dale had no idea how big he might get.
I need to go shopping again," he mumbled as he tore his eyes away from his bust and looked up at his "wife."
Sandy was now a full 5 inches taller than him, and increasingly masculine in appearance. She was changing very fast and the pace seemed to be accelerating. She was sitting at the table, reading the morning paper and drinking coffee, wearing nothing but a pair of old tan slacks and a tee shirt. Her broad, muscular shoulders and powerful upper arms made Dale look puny by comparison, and her solid, well-developed masculine chest was in stark contrast to her husband’s soft, voluptuous bust. Thick hair now sprouted from her arms, and her newly-squared chin was covered with beard stubble.
She tossed the "Help Wanted" section aside and looked across the table at her husband with a condescending smile. "Of course. I’ll take you later today. I need to pick up a couple of things myself," she replied.
Two hours later they were on their way back into town, to the mall. Sandy was wearing a pair of Dale’s slacks, an oxford shirt open at the collar, and one of his sportcoats. Her feet were crammed into a pair of his black loafers. Dale sat quietly in the passenger seat, his legs canted to the side, wearing a navy skirt, pale pink, button down blouse, and navy pumps with 2 1/2 inch heels. A white sweater was draped over his shoulders, and his purse sat in his lap.
This was Sandy’s first extended outing in masculine clothes and she was a little nervous, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. She had purposely not shaved, and the beard stubble gave her a ruggedly masculine appearance and reassured her whenever she rubbed her hand across her cheek. It had been quite a struggle to make herself appear feminine the last few days and she knew it was a losing battle. Already she had begun to get strange looks from her co-workers.
She had already made the decision not to return to work, and had arranged to have her last check sent to a Post Office Box she had set up a week before. She had used her last few days of vacation and begged Pete Ellis to let her delegate her duties to her assistant, claiming a family emergency. Now there were only a few details to take care of before Sandy Morton disappeared and James Langdon took her place in the world.
Sandy parked the car and offered her arm to Dale, who hesitated just a moment before taking it. He felt odd being escorted, and was acutely aware that he was several inches shorter than his wife, even in high heels. Sandy held the door for him, and when Dale walked into the mall she took his arm and told him she would meet him there in an hour.
"I want you to find a couple of nice wonderbras," she told him, adding: "They will definitely help when you go for your job interview."
"You’re not coming with me?" Dale asked, surprised.
"No, I’ve got a few things to take care of," Sandy responded, adding: "I’ll meet you back here in one hour."
Dale wandered off by himself, wondering what Sandy was up to. His first thought was to return to Francine’s Foundations to purchase his new bras, then he decided that wouldn’t be such a good idea. If he ran into Sue again he’d have a rough time explaining how his breasts had grown in just a few days. In the end he went into a local department store and headed for the lingerie section of the women’s department.
The former man browsed through the lingerie, completely unaware that the nervousness he felt the first time he shopped for bras was completely absent. He examined the merchandise and held several bras up in front of himself as if choosing a boob basket was completely routine, and when he had picked several "interesting" items he made his way back to the changing rooms. Once inside he unbuttoned his blouse, removed his cramped, B cup bra, and breathed a sigh of relief. He glanced down at himself and saw red lines where his old bra had impressed its outline on his breasts. Dale slipped his arms through the straps of a pure white wonderbra that had a scalloped trim on the cups, then reached behind himself and easily hooked the band. He remembered his bra-fitting lesson from Sue and adjusted the straps until it was comfortable.
Dale turned towards a full-length mirror on the wall and gasped when he saw his reflection. The 36C wonderbra was strategically padded at the sides and bottoms of the cups, making his blossoming breasts appear even fuller and giving him a deep, alluring cleavage. His boobs appeared at least one size larger, about a D cup, and the sight evoked mixed feelings. Not too long ago Dale would have drooled at the vision he beheld, but now he was torn between pride and anxiety over what was happening to him.
At that moment Dale felt another episode of dizziness, accompanied by the familiar soft, woolly sensation. When his mind cleared there was a smile on his face and he began turning this way and that, posing with his chest thrust forward, admiring his enhanced bustline. All reservations and anxieties had simply faded from his consciousness. His only concern, his only desire, was to look as lovely as possible.
Meanwhile Sandy was busy too. Her first stop was a shoe store where she bought several pairs of men’s shoes. Her feet were now bigger than Dale’s had been, so she purchased one pair of dress shoes, a pair of loafers, and a pair of cross-trainers. Her next stop was a drugstore, where she purchased an armful of men’s grooming aids and hygiene products. Finally, she stopped in a barbershop and had her hair cut short and styled in the manner of a young professional man. For the first time in her life her hair did not reach her collar or swing when she turned her head, and the feeling was remarkable.
There was no going back now. Sandy looked every inch the young executive, and she took advantage of the few minutes left to walk the mall and gauge the reactions of those she met. She was gratified to see that several women looked at her with more than passing interest.
Dale almost walked right past Sandy when he made his way to the doors. He got within ten feet of the young man in the blue sport coat before he realized the handsome, well-groomed guy by the door was his wife. He stopped dead in his tracks and simply stared at her.
"Sandy! You look so different!"
"It’s ‘Jim’ now, Robin," his wife replied.
"Yeah, I guess you really are . . ."
"You’re looking pretty good yourself," Sandy told him as she stepped towards him and gazed at his enhanced bustline. "Nice tits," she remarked with a grin.
Dale blushed furiously and looked around nervously to see if anyone had overheard Sandy, but there was no one near. "Please don’t say things like that," he implored his masculine wife.
"Why not?" She retorted. "I seem to recall YOU commenting on women’s anatomy all the time. So, now it’s your turn. How does it feel?"
"It’s not the same," Dale protested. "I’m not -- I mean, I wasn’t --"
"A girl?" Sandy smirked. "So what? You are one now, aren’t you?"
Dale nodded, unable to meet her gaze.
"So, now the shoe is on the other foot. What’s the big deal?"
"I was wrong," Dale admitted softly. "It’s humiliating."
Sandy chuckled. "Nothing like a change of perspective to make you see the error of your ways," she remarked.
Two days later Sandy drove Dale to "Boomer’s Sports Bar," a watering hole popular with businessmen. Boomer’s featured a wide variety of good food, a large selection of drinks, and cute, college age waitresses wearing cropped tee shirts and hot pants. On the way into the city Sandy made it very clear she expected Dale to do his best to get the job, and to be "nice" to the owner. Dale blushed and looked out the window of the car. He was dressed in a short navy skirt, a tight, soft pink, short sleeve sweater, and navy pumps with 3 1/2 inch spiked heels. His new wonderbra lifted and enhanced his already sizable breasts, creating a soft, alluring bustline, and the high heels shaped and molded his sexy legs into perfect specimens of femininity. He would have much preferred to wear something a little more conservative, but Sandy had insisted he show off a little for his interview.
After leaving Sandy in the bar, Dale was ushered into the owner’s office for his interview. He was invited to sit down, and he tucked his skirt underneath him as he lowered himself gracefully. He sat his purse in his lap and endured the intense scrutiny of his prospective employer. Dale had known Sal Jacobs, the owner of Boomer’s, for years. Sal was a nice guy with the customers, but Dale had no idea how he treated his employees, most of whom were college babes. Dale’s main concern, though, was whether Sal would recognize him. Sandy had laughed at the thought, but Dale’s face still bore a passing resemblance to his old self, and Sal knew him very well.
Fortunately Sal didn’t give any indication he had ever seen Dale before, and he began the interview with the usual, routine questions. Sandy and Dale had worked out an imaginary work history for him, but since he knew absolutely nothing about waitressing they had intentionally left out any previous work experience in that area. Sandy felt that Dale would be hired because of his looks anyway.
"Have you ever waited tables before, Robin?" Sal asked, peering at Dale over his notes.
"No sir," Dale responded, "but I think I can handle the job. He nervously fingered the hem of his skirt as he tried to return Sal’s gaze.
Sal nodded thoughtfully. "Stand up and turn around slowly," he ordered. "I want to get a good look at you."
Dale felt the tension inside him growing as he set his purse on the floor and stood up.
Sal made a twirling motion with his finger, and Dale obediently turned around, trying to be as graceful as possible. His skirt flared slightly as he pirouetted on his spiked high heeled pumps. Fortunately he didn’t trip, and he actually pulled off the maneuver pretty well, but Dale felt very self-conscious being evaluated for his feminine charms. Sal got a good look at his legs, he noticed, and his experienced eyes appraised Dale’s figure with approval.
"Okay, that’s enough," Sal allowed, and he motioned Dale back to his chair. "You’re certainly a lovely young woman. Gorgeous, in fact. But it takes more than that to be a "Boomer’s Girl," he told Dale.
"At Boomer’s, our customers always come first. We cater to gentlemen who come here not only for the food, but also the ‘atmosphere.’ They like to flirt with our girls, and some of them have favorite waitresses that they always want, and we try to accommodate their wishes whenever possible.
"Now -- don’t get me wrong -- Our girls aren’t expected to put up with any unwanted advances or lewd suggestions, but a little harmless flirting is part of the job. The girls joke with the customers and string them along a little -- It’s good for tips -- But I’m not sure you can handle that. You seem to be the nervous type."
Dale had visions of guys hitting on him while he paraded around in a skimpy outfit, and he too had doubts that he could handle that type of action, but then he thought of having to face Sandy and tell her he didn’t get the job, a simple waitress position, and that scared him more than being hit on by guys.
"I can do it, Mr. Jacobs!" He replied with a hint of desperation in his voice. "It might take me a day or two to get used to the job, but I can handle it. I promise you won’t be disappointed."
Sal leaned back, his chair creaking as he did, and he looked at the young girl across the desk. She was a real babe, and her looks alone would be a real drawing card for the bar, so after a few moments he nodded.
"Okay, we’ll give it a try. Go find Gail -- She’s the red head -- and tell her I said to get you a couple of uniforms."
Dale found Gail just outside Sal’s office. Gail was tall and thin, perhaps three inches taller than Dale, with a cute face, average bustline, but great legs and flaming red hair. She was wearing the usual Boomer’s uniform -- a tight cropped tee shirt with "BOOMER’S" across the chest, a pair of painted-on hot pants that were short enough to expose some of her buns, and pumps with 4 inch high heels. She looked sexy as hell to Dale, who waited until Gail finished talking with another girl before telling her what Sal wanted.
Gail looked Dale over, giving him a quick appraisal. "Okay honey, come with me," she motioned, and Dale followed her back to a small locker room that contained eight or ten battered gray lockers, a few folding chairs, and a long bench-like table set near a long, lighted mirror.
"Here we are -- Home Sweet Home," she announced with a smirk as she walked over to a locker and opened the door.
"This one’s free. Consider it yours."
While Dale explored his new locker Gail handed him a hanger with a ridiculously small tee shirt and a pair of hot pants attached to the skirt clips. "Put these on and we’ll see how they fit," she ordered. "Oh, what is your shoe size?"
"Umm -- eight," Dale responded absently as he stared at the minuscule outfit.
"Here’s the stockings." Gail tapped Dale on the shoulder and he turned to see her holding out two packages of tan, sheer-to-waist pantyhose. "Sal provides the first two pairs, but after that you buy your own," she informed him.
"Oh, okay," Dale acknowledged as he accepted the nylons and put them on the shelf in his locker. He was distracted by the outfit he was supposed to wear, and he doubted whether he actually had the nerve to appear in public wearing the minuscule tee shirt and hot pants, but he was determined to try.
Dale stripped off his sweater and hung it in his locker, then he reached behind his back, unbuttoned the safety catch of his skirt, and eased the zipper down. He stepped out of the skirt and removed his shoes and pantyhose and carefully stored them with his sweater. Then, with an audible sigh, he opened one of the packages of pantyhose and eased them up his legs, unconsciously smoothing them over his newly-sensitized legs. He took the skimpy, forest green hot pants from the hanger and stepped into them, easing them up over his thighs. The hot pants were really tight and low cut, and not much more substantial than his pantyhose. A small notch in the front plunged well below his waist, and the legs were so short that an inch or so of his fanny was exposed. The tight, zippered crotch followed the gentle curve of his feminine mound, leaving little to the imagination.
Dale consciously avoided looking at his own reflection, deciding that if he saw himself he would surely lose his nerve. Instead, he concentrated on the rest of his outfit, and he slipped his arms through the sleeves of the white, cropped tee shirt and pulled it down over his head and, with some difficulty, over his growing breasts. The shirt molded itself to his voluptuous curves and clung to his form as if it was shrink-wrapped. The plunging neckline exposed an alarming amount of cleavage, and the short "tail" left Dale’s entire midriff bare.
"Here you go, sweetie. Try these on for size," Gail directed as she walked over with a pair of dark green, high heel pumps. Dale took the shoes from her and sat on one of the folding chairs and slipped them on his feet. The heels were higher than anything he’d worn, and the pencil-thin, spikes made him very nervous. It would be incredibly easy to fall off the heels and break his neck, or at least his ankle, and he wasn’t at all sure he could serve food and drinks while perched on them. After a few experimental steps he found they weren’t as bad as he imagined, though he knew his feet would be sore after several hours in the pumps.
"Okay, here’s the deal," Gail announced as she dragged another folding chair over and sat down. "I run the floor -- period. You got any problems, you come to me. I hand out the table assignments and make up the work schedule. You show up on time or you’re gone, unless you got one great excuse. Also, the girls all got their own regulars -- Don’t mess with them. You keep all tips, except for ten percent for the kitchen staff and cleaning crew. Any questions?"
Dale shook his head.
"Good -- Oh, one other thing. You can flirt all you want, but I don’t want to see you lap-dancing out there, and no exposing yourself. An’ I don’t even wanna hear you made a ‘business deal’ out there. If I do, you’re history, got it?"
"Don’t worry," Dale assured her. "I’m not even sure I have the nerve to go out there like this."
Gail laughed. "Don’t worry, honey, you’ll get used to it. After a couple a shifts you won’t even think about it."
Gail had Dale accompany her out on the floor to show him the ropes, and she got him a cute little apron, an order pad and pen, then had him follow her around to her tables as she took orders. Dale felt absolutely naked under the stares of the businessmen, and he kept glancing over to Sandy, who was sitting in a corner with a big grin on her face, nursing a beer. Dale blushed when one guy in a suit asked Gail about "the new blonde with the big tits." Dale was cleaning off a table, only a few feet away, and he clearly heard the guy remark, "she’s got a great ass."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dale was silent on the way home. He was completely humiliated by his first experience as a Boomer’s Girl, and he reflected on the drastic change in his status since he became female. Before his transformation he had been to Boomer’s hundreds of times, and he had never once considered how the girls who waited on him felt. They were simply there, for his "viewing pleasure," a part of the scenery. But, now he knew exactly how they felt. In just 60 minutes he’d been called a chick, babe, "Blondie," girl, honey, doll, foxy -- and several other names he didn’t care to remember. He’d been pinched in the ass, groped, whistled at, and propositioned. And the worst part of it was he had to smile and pretend he LIKED it!
Sandy was no help either. She had sat there at her corner table and smirked at him the whole time, and Dale was outraged that she had actually pinched his ass when he freshened her beer. That was just too much! He resolved to give her the silent treatment the rest of the night.
But Sandy had other ideas. When she got Dale home she grabbed his shoulder, turned him towards her, then pulled him close for a deep, probing kiss. Dale tried to pull away, still angry with her. He was determined she would not have her way with him, but Sandy held him easily -- he was no match for her strength -- and after several seconds of protesting and trying to push her away Dale felt himself succumbing to her will. His own body betrayed him, and he felt himself becoming aroused as she forced a kiss on him. His nipples hardened and he felt a warmth in his crotch that quickly spread throughout his entire body. His knees felt weak, and in less than 30 seconds Dale was clinging to Sandy for support, pressing against her, his anger completely forgotten.
Dale’s wife scooped him up in her arms and carried him up the stairs to their bedroom. One of Dale’s high heeled shoes hung from his toes precariously as she swung him on to the bed and removed her sport coat. Dale lay still for a moment, his long hair splayed around his head like a golden halo, and gazed up at his spouse as he chewed on one manicured fingernail, contemplating what she was about to do to him. Suddenly, Dale wanted her to take him, he wanted her to make love to him, and he couldn’t help the way he felt.
Sandy tossed her coat over a chair and turned to face him while she unbuttoned her shirt. In response to her unspoken command Dale rose from the bed and pulled his sweater off and quickly stepped out of his skirt. He removed his pantyhose and panties, and reached behind his back to free the clasp of his bra. When he was completely naked Sandy approached him and Dale craned his neck upwards, his eyes fixed to hers by some unseen force she commanded. She seemed even taller than she had that morning, and Dale had to stand on tip toes to kiss her. He threw his arms around her shoulders and rose on his toes to meet her lips. Sandy’s hands encircled his waist, pulling him close, then they roamed over his soft curves as if sculpting him to her specifications. Dale shivered at her touch, and gasped at the tingling sensation that raced through him.
She knew exactly what do, how to touch him, and she played him like a musical instrument, evoking exactly the right reaction, bringing him along at just the right pace. Sandy turned Dale around and cupped his breast gently, lifting them, kneading them softly, as she nibbled at his neck. Dale gasped at the electric shock that passed through his body, and pressed backwards into her erection. When her fingers moved to his nipples and concentrated on his sensitive, feminine points Dale simply melted against her. His will had vanished and he was hers for the taking.
In the back of his mind Dale was dimly aware that she had done it to him again, but it felt so wonderful he really didn’t care. He was overwhelmed by a kaleidoscope of sensations, and the next thing he knew he was flat on his back with his legs apart. In the distance he heard someone moaning, and it was several moments before he realized it was his own voice he was hearing. His hands reached out and found Sandy’s taught waist and muscular back, and he caressed her lovingly as she descended on him. He thrust his pelvis upwards to meet her -- His vagina felt hot, moist and ready -- But she teased him again, as she once had, and she held herself above him as he squirmed and panted. She continued to stimulate his nipples and push all the right buttons, and Dale heard himself begging her to take him.
Sandy grinned and continued to tease him. She could read Dale like a book, and she knew he had planned to put on a pout that night -- his way of protesting his new job -- and she was determined to stamp out any thoughts of resistance and to settle for once and for all WHO was in charge. She teased him unmercifully, keeping him just below the threshold of relief, and soon Dale was in tears. At that point she began to whisper in his ear. She told him she loved him, but he had to understand that there could be only one leader, one dominant party in any relation, and it was time for him to recognize her authority. She reminded him of his belief in male superiority and she used that against him to put him in his place. Dale’s mind was in a turmoil. He had long ago come to the same conclusion, yet something inside him had continued to fight it, resisting his demotion to second-class status. But now Sandy was forcing the issue, and she had him just where she wanted him. As she spoke to him gently and quietly, and stared down at him with her piercing blue eyes, Dale felt his resistance weaken and evaporate. He heard himself surrender completely, and with his capitulation came a surprising sense of peace and tranquillity.
Dale felt Sandy’s rigid phallus invaded his innermost recesses, driving inward, filling him completely -- and then some. He gasped as she drilled into him expanding his passage as she went. She was huge -- Much larger than before -- and Dale screamed and thrashed beneath her, overcome with delicious, wonderful sensations! His hips rose automatically to meet her, and he wrapped his legs around hers, desperate to keep her inside him. He exploded in a cataclysm of sensation, and he bounced and convulsed as a series of incredible tremors shook him unmercifully. In the midst of his frenzied responses he felt the milky softness and disorientation of the continuing transformation process, but he was unable to recognize it. Dale’s entire world was centered on Sandy, and his moans were loud and insistent as he shamelessly begged Sandy to keep going.
The next morning Dale awoke and sat up, covering himself with the sheet. Sandy lay beside him, still sleeping, and he smiled dreamily as he gazed at her masculine form. He still felt the tremors of the previous night, and after a few minutes he slipped out of the bed and walked into the bathroom. When he passed the mirror he glanced at himself, and froze. He’d changed again.
Dale touched his face tentatively with his thin delicate fingers. His features were more refined, even more feminine, and incredibly beautiful. His skin was absolutely flawless -- soft and smooth -- and without any blemish. His breasts looked a little larger too, and his nipples had definitely grown. His waist seemed to be narrower, and his hips and legs were a vision of feminine perfection. Suddenly, he was far more than merely pretty -- He was completely gorgeous! Dale stepped back for a better view, then turned and looked at himself from different angles, and for the first time since the transformation occurred he smiled.
During his shower Dale realized his skin seemed to be more sensitive. He had noticed an increased sensitivity before, but now it was magnified to an incredible degree, and the spray from the shower made his entire body tingle. The simple act of taking a shower had become a sensuous experience, and Dale luxuriated in the marvelous sensation. When he turned the water off and stepped from the shower he was breathing heavily and very aroused. He closed his eyes as he gently patted himself dry, savoring the touch of the soft towel. He felt the increased weight of his enlarged breasts, and he noticed more movement from both his breasts and his bottom when he turned and twisted to dry himself.
When he finished Dale tiptoed back into the bedroom and quietly went about gathering an outfit to wear. They hadn’t planned on going out today, but for some reason Dale felt like wearing something pretty, so he selected a soft, pastel blue skirt, a pink knit top, and his natural leather sandals. His new wonderbra felt a little tight as he fastened the band, and Dale saw the tops of his breasts curving above the bra’s cups, and he stifled a giggle as he thought of how Sandy would react when she noticed his enhanced bustline. After slipping into a pair of high-cut, silk panties Dale stepped into a short half slip then his skirt. The hem was a couple of inches above his knees, and the skirt swirled alluringly as he turned and reached for his top.
Dale realized he had a problem as soon as he pulled the soft, brushed cotton top down over his head. It took quite an effort to get it down past his boobs, and when he finally managed to straighten the top he saw that it was stretched very tightly over his bust. It was clearly a size too small, but then so was everything else he owned. All of it had belonged to Sandy, and her small bustline wasn’t in the same class as Dale’s voluptuous profile. Dale felt a surprising flush of pride when he compared his breasts to his wife’s former tits. Sandy’s breasts had been small and conical, mere pimples compared to his large, perfectly rounded boobs, and for some reason Dale felt smug.
The former man fixed his hair and added a touch of makeup, then slipped his sandals on his feet and quietly left the room. He went down to the kitchen, started a pot of coffee and then opened the drapes that covered the sliding glass doors. When he did he once again caught sight of his reflection, and it occurred to him that he was truly a different person. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table, contemplating the immense changes that had taken place in his life, and he thought back to his former life. Surprisingly, Dale found it difficult to recall exactly how things were prior to his change. When he tried to visualize himself as a male there was only a fuzzy, dim image, and unless he concentrated very hard the image seemed to morph into the beautiful girl he had become. Then, when he tried to recall how it had felt to be male he was shocked to discover that he could not remember.
Dale shook his head and stared at his lipstick-stained cup. He knew he’s been a guy, and he could remember almost everything about it -- growing up, playing sports, dating, even marrying Sandy -- but when it came to sex he could not recall what it had been like to be a male. In fact, he couldn’t even remember what it had been like to own a penis. The idea of having masculine equipment hanging between his legs seemed preposterous, completely ridiculous, and he almost laughed at the idea. Yet he HAD been a guy, as strange as the idea seemed now, and tried to imagine what it was like to have a tubular protrusion and a sac full of testes. How cumbersome that must be, Dale thought. Why would anyone want to have to put up with the inconvenience?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dale’s first full shift at Boomer’s was hectic and tiring, in addition to being a real education. He was accepted by the other girls without question, and most were friendly, though one or two were clearly jealous of his beauty. For some reason he did not feel nearly as self conscious as he had the first time he wore his skimpy uniform, and after an hour of waiting tables he didn’t even think about it. Of course, he was very aware the customers found him attractive from their looks and comments, but that didn’t seem to bother him either. In fact he learned quite quickly that a little wiggle or a sexy smile had a definite impact on his tips. He discovered that guys loved it when he leaned over slightly to take their orders or when he wiped off their tables, and he soon began to do it without thinking. Unconsciously, his mannerisms became more naturally feminine, more flirty, and the customers loved it.
Without realizing it, Dale began speaking in a softer, sultry tone that matched his new attitude. There was also a breathless quality about his voice that matched his blonde hair perfectly. After a few days the word began to spread about the absolute babe at Boomer’s, and Dale developed quite a following. His tables were almost always full, and many of the businessmen passed up other tables to sit in whatever section "Robin" was working.
Ironically, his best friend at work was Colleen, the girl who had once been his favorite waitress when he came with his friends. Colleen was 22, a part time student at a local college, and very pretty. She was a blonde too, though her hair was much longer than Dale’s, and she was just about his height. Colleen had helped Dale learn where everything was kept and had shown him a few "trade secrets" that helped him survive his first few days. Dale was grateful for her help and offered to help her with the closing chores, which were assigned on a rotating basis, to pay her back. One thing led to another and they were soon good friends. They covered for each other during brief breaks, gossiped about the customers, and even worked a private party together.
One day, as they were changing after work, Colleen came over to Dale’s locker.
"Robin, I’m having a few of my friends over for a wine and cheese party this Saturday. Would you and Jim like to come?"
Dale looked up as he was fastening his skirt and smiled. "Thanks for the invitation, but I’ll have to ask Jim and get back to you."
"No problem. Just let me know tomorrow, if you can, so I know how many to plan for," Colleen told her friend.
Dale ran out to the car when he saw Sandy pull up, and he hopped in before she could get out and open the door for him. Sandy reached over, pulled him close, and gave him a long, sensuous kiss. He melted against her, and when she finally broke the kiss Dale was breathing hard.
"Your face is scratchy. You need a shave," he told her as he looked up into her eyes.
"Yeah, I didn’t have anywhere to go today so I decided to skip shaving," she replied, adding: "It’s a real pain, having to shave every morning."
"Now you know what I went through," Dale laughed. "That’s definitely one thing about being a man that I don’t miss."
"Are you trying to tell me that there are some advantages to being a girl?" Sandy asked playfully as she pulled Dale close.
"One or two," he replied coyly, placing his hand on his wife’s thigh and inching it towards her manhood.
He was intrigued by the changes that had occurred in his spouse over the past few days. Sandy had grown even taller, and was now a real "hunk." Her square face had a strong jawline, piercing blue eyes that a girl could drown in, and the features of a male model. Her shoulders were broad, her waist taut, and her chest and arms displayed well-developed muscles that Dale found increasingly attractive. Her mannerisms and gestures were entirely masculine, and her voice was a sexy baritone. There was absolutely nothing in her appearance or behavior that hinted she had ever been anything but a handsome guy. But Sandy still remembered a few things from her previous life, and Dale loved the fact that she knew exactly how to push his buttons to turn him on.
"Colleen asked if we want to come over to her place Saturday night for a wine and cheese party," he announced as Sandy began driving.
"I don’t have anything planned," Sandy told her feminized spouse. "We can go if you’d like."
"Thanks," Dale replied, leaning over and kissing Sandy’s cheek before he settled into a comfortable position against her. "How did the job hunting go today?"
Sandy smiled down at her husband. "Really good," she replied. "I think I have a real hot prospect at Journeyman’s. They’re opening a new place just a few miles north of the cottage and they’re looking for a store manager."
"Store manager! That sounds really good!" Dale gushed, snuggling against Sandy.
"Yeah, but it’s not certain by any means. I have an interview scheduled for next Monday," Sandy told him.
"You’ll get the job," Dale said loyally.
"We’ll see . . ."
When Dale saw Sandy strip off her shirt in the bedroom, and got a look at her muscular torso and rippling abs, he found himself becoming aroused. It never occurred to him to ask himself why or when he began to find males interesting, but there was no denying he was very attracted to Sandy. Some of his customers had begun to look good too, but he was firmly convinced none of them could hold a candle to his spouse. Aside from her extremely handsome features and her athlete’s body, she was very well endowed, and she had a unique knowledge of what a girl wanted that no other man could possibly have.
Dale felt his nipples becoming erect just watching her change, and he made sure she was watching when he began to undress. He vamped her shamelessly. He slowly peeled his tight top off, raising it over his head with an exaggerated swing of his hips. Then, staring into Sandy’s eyes, he shimmied out of his skirt and stood facing her, wearing nothing but his panties, thigh-high stockings, and high heel sandals. Sandy rose to the occasion, and soon Dale was in ecstasy.
"Why no bra?" Sandy asked as they lay in each other’s arms after making love.
"They’re too small," Dale confided. "They feel so cramped they actually hurt."
"Well, then you’ll have to go shopping again," his wife replied, stating the obvious.
"It almost seems like a waste of time," he replied disgustedly. I outgrow my bras almost as fast as I buy ‘em. If this keeps up I’m gonna be in real trouble."
Sandy laughed, a deep, masculine laugh. "They’re not that big -- yet," she added. "You’re about a D cup, maybe a DD. You don’t have anything to worry about. Besides," she continued, "I seem to recall you were partial to big tits when you were a man."
Dale blushed deeply, recalling his preference for chicks with large boobs. "Don’t rub it in," he begged. "I had no idea how cumbersome and distracting they are. They’re always in the way. Everytime I turn or take a step they bounce or jiggle or shift -- It’s incredible how ‘active’ they are!"
"Yeah, well yours are a lot bigger than mine were," Sandy agreed with a wide grin, "but I’m starting to see things from your old point of view -- They’re a lot of fun to play with."
Dale blushed again and started to protest, but Sandy cut him off.
"Don’t tell me you don’t like it when I play with your boobies. You love it, and you know it!"
She reached over and began gently massaging one of Dale’s breasts, and her feminized husband inhaled sharply and sighed. He felt her fingers brushing across his nipple and he turned towards her, wanting more. Sandy obliged him, and soon he was moaning and gasping, savoring the wonderful sensations his wife was creating. As Sandy brought him to a fever pitch of arousal another wave of disorientation hit Dale, and when it was over he realized he loved having big boobs -- They were so sensitive! He realized that any inconvenience was minor compared to what he felt. Sandy was right. She was always right . . .
When Sandy awoke the next morning she pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and went downstairs to get a cup of coffee. She found Dale in the kitchen, wearing a lacy pink chemise Sandy had purchased for their honeymoon. His feet were strapped into a pair of white, high-heeled sandals, and he was dicing ham and vegetables for an omelet. The coffee was ready, and when Sandy walked over to pour herself a cup Dale turned and wrapped his arms around her neck. He kissed her cheek, rising up even further on his toes to reach her beard-stubbled face. Sandy wrapped her arms around her diminished spouse, realizing that she was now seven or eight inches taller than Dale. Somehow she knew the difference was mostly due to her own new growth. Everything looked a little smaller to her this morning, and she realized she had really sprouted overnight.
Dale’s hands reached up to her cheeks and Sandy held him by the waist and looked down at him. The bustline of the chemise was stretched to the breaking point, and Dale’s enormous, dark nipples were clearly visible. They pushed into the thin, lacy fabric of the chemise and created two unmistakably feminine points that Sandy found very erotic. His dark aureoles looked as large as silver dollars beneath the revealing chemise, and when he reached up to caress her face it was obvious he wasn’t wearing panties.
"Now you really need a shave," Dale remarked with a gleam in his eyes.
"Yeah, and you really need some new clothes," Sandy joked, staring down the top of the chemise at her husband’s voluptuous cleavage. "We’d better go shopping again today. I want you to look good at the party, Saturday night."
Dale smiled and laid his head against Sandy’s muscular chest. He felt so small and weak compared to his tall, handsome wife, but he loved it when she surrounded him with her strong arms and held him close. "I’ll get something really pretty, just for you," he promised as he played with her chest hair.
To be continued . . .
© 2000
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