Copyright Anne Browning 1999. The following story may be copied for private reading , but not sold or distributed for profit

 

The Three Year Itch                  by: Anne Browning

 

It was my own stubbornness and insensitivity that lead me into situation I’m in now, that and the deviousness of my wife and her friend. I married Julie four years ago. She is slim and very attractive. Beneath the dark blonde hair is a wide good humored mouth, sparkling green eyes and an upturned nose. Julia is tall for a woman, 5’8" and that was one of the problems we faced. We were both at college, I was attracted to her but was told by my college so called friends that I had no chance, there was no way she would put it out to me. To everyone’s surprise, not the least my own we are now married.

I am not very large, slim and about 5’8"dark , with dark blonde hair, green eyes, a wide mouth; and have very fine features for a male. Sounds familiar doesn’t it. I’m or at least was, very aggressive. I’m sure it was not genetic, but the result of my background. Throughout my childhood, I was constantly referred to as being "far too pretty for a boy" , "he really should have been born a girl." it never stopped. By the time I was in high school I was referred to as girlish. The constant teasing and the unfortunate choice of Cornel as my name, which was shortened to Nell or Nellie created a large chip on my shoulder. The nicest description my friends used was feisty, but really they meant aggressive and a bully All the time I was on the look out for some way to prove that I was not effeminate but really a tough guy.

It is said that opposites attract , that’s not true as far as my wife Julia is concerned, as you can see from the two descriptions she is almost ways a mirror image of myself. Unlike me she is quiet, almost shy, but beneath that is a strong will and as I was to find out a very devious mind. Julia did not like my character and was determined to change it to one more acceptable to her own nature. With the help of her friend it took Julia a year to bring her plans to fruition. I found out to my loss, that not it is not only males that set out to gain a trophy, women also do it Her friend Sylvia gave her a challenge, to change one of the most aggressive guys at college into a feminized wimp, Julia accepted and that is how I find myself in a position that I’d have never believed possible.

By profession I’m an economist, and as my personality is not client friendly,-I don’t suffer fools- my main success has been in research. After several incidents with employers I now work for a small investment company specializing in Real Estate owned by a woman whom I’ve helped made quite rich.

The problems started after three years of marriage, we’d moved away from Boston to Portland Oregon. Julie had lost her friends, through distance and now wanted to work. She’d just completed a Diploma in real estate management and now wanted to put it into practice. I had not minded her going to college, but her wanting to work was something else. Julia wanted me to approach Ms Roth, the owner about joining Aurora Investments. Ms Roth I knew was seeking someone with Julia’s skills, but I was not prepared to help my wife.

It was quite selfish, I was the provider and the thought of Julia having independent means though a job, I considered as a snide attack upon my manhood. It was all in my own mind of course, but that did nothing to diminish the feeling. I wanted my wife to stay at home so I would be the centre of her world, and receive her total attention. She seemed very much in love with me and would not openly go against my wishes. She at realised the futility of trying to change my mind, it was then Julia used more subtle means However it was nearly a year later before I discovered how devious she had been.

One night, after having fought over her working that morning, I came home to find her dressed or ‘undressed’ in her sexiest lingerie, with soft music playing, and a candle light dinner. I thought, foolishly, as I was to learn later, that at last I had won the battle against her taking up a career. As you may have guessed since the start of our arguments, my sex life had been rather sparse, and this was a heaven send. We danced, we ate, and then we made love all night.

After this my wife seemed to become a glutton for sex: every night, every morning, and all day on weekends. She even started waking me up, in the middle of the night to make love. Needless to say, after several weeks the constant pressure made it difficult to perform. After my third attempt at five in the morning and another failure Julia decided I should see her doctor. It was Sylvia, her former high school girl friend who had issued the challenge to Julia, not something I was aware of at the time.

Sylvia Bruce had gone onto to medical school and had begun a practice in Portland. I had thought it quite a coincidence at the time, not having any idea of the relationship that existed between the two. Sylvia and I had always been uncomfortable in each others presence, and it was quite traumatic appearing undressed before her.

Despite the titters from Doctor Sylvia on the shape of my body there turned out to be nothing wrong with me. However I was run down and she gave Julie a prescription for vitamins. These I later found out were it was female hormone tablets. It was the beginning of my feminization, a carefully prepared plot hatched by the two of them to change my character. Julie picked up the medicine, and I accepted it as a means of recovering my health.

I started my therapy the next morning. It didn’t take long for my temperament to change, over the next few weeks I began to lose my aggression, nothing that I really noticed, but the people about me, began to realise I was less argumentative and was prepared to agree with their point of view. Julie maintained she was not active enough, and was turning to fat and it was time to diet. Since it was mainly my fault in stopping her from working it was my duty to diet also. Very soon I was down from a thirty-four to a twenty eight inch waist, and from the lack of protein had also lost muscle tone.

As a result my clothes were oversized and my wife began buying me a new wardrobe. Before this I had never allowed my wife to purchase my clothes. However, I believe, due to my constantly being drained by sexual activity, I was finding myself a much less aggressive male than before. I had become less tense and more willing to conform to other’s wishes. My boss had even mentioned my new spirit of cooperation, which she said was surprising to find in a male.

I went from one pill a day to two, they did seem to work. It was in a strange way, but I did feel an uplift after taking them, one with breakfast and one with dinner. My hair took on a new life, I was beginning to thin on the top, but after a month on the medication it thickened and became more luxuriant. So much so that Julie insisted I must get it cut, my character had not changed that much, and I reverted to normal. No-one was going to tell me when to cut my hair! Over the months the more she insisted I cut the longer it became. Until at last I was forced to pull it back into a pony tail, now quite fashionable.

Still the changes continued. As I said, none of my clothes fitted properly any more. My wife continued her campaign by buying me new underwear. One day I returned home to find her cutting up all my cotton underwear.

"What are you doing?"

"I needed rags, and since none of your underwear fits I bought you a new supply and am making good use of your old stuff for the only thing cotton underwear is good for anyway."

I did not like the emphasis on the word cotton but I was in a sexy mood anyway so I stripped giving her my underwear and getting ready for my after work massage and bath. My wife had started to complain about my body odor and was making me take hot baths when I got home. These she scented with her own bath salts! After the bath she would massage my entire body with scented lotion, concentrating on my rough hands, my hairless chest, and privates!

It didn’t take long for my masculinity to harden and throb under her talented caresses. It had became a nightly ritual followed by our regular love making. At this point in my secret hormone treatment it was the only way I could really get off (did I notice that my emissions were less copious than "before^"?). In this manner, being the controlled of our sexual activity, my wife had gained much control over her husband.

That night, as usual, after sex I showered and then went into the bedroom to get dressed. I found my underwear drawer full of men’s silky feeling nylon briefs and tee shirts. Upon checking the socks I found only silken ones.

"Honey, where is my underwear?" I asked.

"It s in your bureau drawer, where it always is dear"

"But it’s all nylon!"

‘So?"

"But I like cotton underwear, that’s what I always wear."

She walked into the room with a smile.

"Darling its’ far easier to wash and dry, and you’ll like wearing it dear. It won’t scratch your skin like cotton will. Come on honey, try it, I’m sure you will learn to love wearing it. After all I don’t wear cotton underwear and you^’ve never complained and I find the slippery nylon very sexy."

"I don’t know dear, it quite a change."

"Oh come on darling perhaps it’ll help your little problem! Or you big problem! Please give it a try. After all, that’s all that is in the house. Unless you want to try mine? They’re a little fancier than yours, but it’s all right with me, you might even look pretty cute in my panties, want to try?"

"No! I don’t okay, I’ll wear my own nylon underwear."

And with that I put the briefs on, but it seemed I was no longer in charge. I could not win an argument with my wife for I was frightened of her revealing to our friends my sexual problems. My inability to obtain an instant erection was becoming a never ending source of torment to me. Up till now any sense of effeminising that I may have felt was banished by my sexual prowess. Now it took some time to stimulate me with hot baths and cool lotions and for a man like me it was the ultimate insult. I hoped she didn’t gossip about it at the beauty salon or with her friends over coffee when I was at work.

It was obvious that she had tasted power and realised that I was losing the battle to prevent her become a working girl. I didn’t know that this was only the first stage of the domination she and Sylvia had planned. Winning the right to work was only the first stage, it had wetted Sylvia’s appetite, and she would not be satisfied until she had gained complete dominance. From the moment I donned the nylon tricot briefs she knew she had won.

"Now that’s much better she ejaculated. I’m definitely going to keep you in nylon and silk from now on!"

"And I have no choice?"

"Not unless you start seeing a sex therapist about you little problem, a young man like you having trouble with your ....... isn’t that just the sorriest story you ever heard? .I was talking to Sylvia last Tuesday and..."

"No, please, you didn’t tell anyone, please. Oh darling how could you. I’m sorry, listen, it won’t happen again, tonight or any night I promise, I’ll be able to do anything just don^’t tell anyone..."

"Why honey, don’t get yourself all upset, just ask me nicely, and say darling, please don’t tell anyone about my little problem, please."

"Please, darling, please don’t tell anyone about my ‘little’ problem, please. And I’ll wear this stuff to, OK? It’s not as if it didn’t have a fly," I laughed weakly. " And besides, the smoothness seems to turn me on."

It was settled and I stayed in nylon socks and white nylon tricot under wear. This didn’t last long as my wife ‘accidentally’ dropped a red towel in with the whites and both my underwear was changed to pink. At that point I refused to wear them, but again was forced to back down. We had agreed that Julie was better suited to control our finances, and my allowance would nod not stretch to completely throwing them out.

"I’m sorry about your underwear honey, but we

really cannot afford to throw out good clothing just because of some silly sexist notions. I think you look wonderful in pink! If you really cannot stand them I’ll make you a trade.. since we’ve been dieting we’re about the same waist size so you can have some of my white panties and dance pants for your pink ones! Isn’t that just the answer.. .and you’ve lost so much weight that I’m sure you’d fit into my white camisoles and teddies. I’ve always wanted to try your tee shirts anyway, besides I think you look very becoming, quite pretty in lace! Yes I have some white panties with ruffles and french lace that should look divine."

"Oh, ... thanks but no thanks. I mean, pink is okay, I guess, as long as no one sees them, but I’ll get a couple of white ones a week out of my allowance and wash them myself. "

"Maybe honey if I was working we could afford more."

I no longer had the ability to resist her and agreed that this might solve a number of problems.

I told Julia my investment company was advertising for a real estate consultant, and working together sounded to such fun. She had all the qualities they had advertised for and I would sound out my boss. I didn’t like the idea, but at least I could keep a check on her win back some form of control.

Ms Roth, my boss and the owner of Aurora Investments found Julie the ideal candidate and she was employed immediately. Despite the energy she put into her own work, it did little to diminish her sexual appetite and my little problems continued unabated

I’d suggested doing my own washing , and I thought Julie had forgotten all about it, but a week after starting work she brought the subject up. "Seeing you suggested it, why don’t you begin this weekend. As well as giving me more time to rest, I’ll be able to get you some clothes that fit you. Yours are just hanging on you now."

That weekend I learned more than just how to use a washer. I learned how to wash and try dry, and to press. Not only own my clothes, but hers as well, Julie showed how to wash, iron and care for her lingerie, bras, and girdles. She wanted us to share the house keeping now she was a working woman, it seemed a fair compromise, although I was well paid, the additional; money would allow further investment for the future.

At the same time I felt I was falling further and further under her control. I felt uncomfortable handling her intimate apparel, it made me more aware of my own ‘lingerie’, even if they were only simple white panties.

Sunday afternoon was spent ironing, Julia was set me up in the living room with the clothes, mine and hers. Before the day was over I could do pleats with the best, it was tiring hot work, I was not helped by Julia, parading around dressed only in a red silk slip, garterbelt and black stockings. She delighted in brushing against me, blowing in my ear, even caressing my nylon clad genitals (which by now were as hard as ever), and gently nibbling my behind. Although I knew she was manipulating me, it such a turn-on that I began not to mind in the least.

My reward was a scented bath and full body massage which was finished by her silken clad body on top of mine and her making love to me like never before. This continued over the weeks, the more enthusiasm I put her laundry, the better was our Sunday night of sex.

At this point I had been taking the pills and dieting for about six months. Over the period my body had changed drastically, much of my muscle tone was gone, my voice was somewhat higher, my hair was less coarse, and my body hair was beginning to thin. My skin, now almost hairless, and continuously bathed, spiced, massaged, had a feminine sheen. The process had been so gradual and well managed by Doctor Sylvia and Julie had been so gradual that I was not really conscious of how drastic the changes were.

I could no longer maintain the same sexual appetite, now it required my wife’s initiation and control to bring me to full erection. It was now at her pleasure and now followed the family washing and ironing, in order to receive my wife’s sexual favors. These were dispensed to reinforce my sexual behavior and now I was actually looking forward to doing the weekend washes. She continued to reinforce these feminising activities by making our entire sex contingent upon her happiness with the quality of my work. Weekday sex was practically eliminated it was used only as a tool to reinforce some wish of hers. I latter learned it was called petticoat control

Next she bought me new outerwear, while I was out, sending all my clothes to a charity, to ensure I had no choice but follow her dictates. The remainder, the clothes I was wearing were destroyed while I was bathing. Her excuse was my boss, Ms Roth had insisted that my current wardrobe was too awful to be seen by any clients, and must be replaced. I was very upset that it had been done without my consent. But Julie said, "don’t be silly, you know you’d have got into one of your stubborn moods and refused to do it."

The clothing she bought was contemporary bordering on the artistic, but it all had a unisexual look to it, if not being outright feminine. All the pants were tight at the ankles and tight in the behind. My jeans sported fancy back pockets and all had a feminine cut. The dress pants were either linen or doeskin, where I had always worn cotton or corduroy. All the shirts were of batiste or silky challis; the ties were all silk. The shoes were all patent leather.

The night this change occurred we made love after my nightly massage and I knew something was up. After my post sex shower my wife dried me and handed me my new robe of satin. The argument that ensued was nothing compared to the one over my new wardrobe. Nevertheless, in the end victory was hers. Especially since I had nothing else to wear and not the will to purchase anything new.

In these new clothes I spent most of my time at home or work. I was to embarrassed to be any-where else. My wife was quite pleased because now I spent all my non-working at home. By default I took over much of the household duties, as she took the opportunity to become a full time career. Strangely Ms Roth not only accepted my change of attire, but also helped protect me against my colleagues whose attitude to my new clothes was to ridicule and tease me when she was not present. They were macho to say the least, they drank, gambled, and womanized, and only months ago I had lead them in this behavior, now I was the outsider. They neither understood or accepted my new character, now I was some one different, a black sheep. Someone to be reviled and picked upon by the rest of the flock.

No longer accepted by my work colleagues and to embarrassed

to socialize I spent more and more time researching and the results proved very profitable. My wife quickly learned to make use of my efforts, and quickly became a key player in the real estate sales. To Ms Roth results were everything, up till now our relationship had been strained. She had accepted I had unique talents and my work was excellent but our personalities clashed. She was the dominating type, and I did not follow orders well. Now I had lost most, if not all, of my male aggressiveness and the new behavior pleased her.

Her own views on sexuality were not known but it was possible to surmise. She dressed in very expensive severely tailored suits, elegant but not very feminine; they were masculine than feminine. All the men she had been seen with were effeminate. My current style of apparel pleased her. In fact she had commented on the improvement in my taste in clothes several times and suggested my wife continue in her role as my wardrobe mistress.

Next came the rash. My wife commented on the red blotch on my thighs while drying me one night. Two days later after it had spread she sent me to her doctor again. It was diagnosed as a rare rash brought on by a certain sensitivity of the skin. The doctor prescribed a cream for the rash and a change in wardrobe.

"Usually this type of rash is much more extensive," said the doctor to my wife, ignoring me. However your husband’s choice of underwear has given him some protection. Nevertheless silk or satin would be preferable; they’ll cause less irritation to his skin. He must use the cream, wear silk pants in addition to the underwear he already prefers."

"I won’t", I started to interject, but a glare from my wife silenced me.

"At home I see no problem, I have several pairs of both silk and satin pants he can wear."

Doctor Sylvia raised her eyebrows. "Really Julie? You must let me see him. I’m sure he’ll look so pretty."

I tried to think of a reply, but I was too humiliated, and dropped my eyes unable to face the superior smile on her lips. My cheeks were hot, and I knew my whole face had turned crimson with embarrassment. Worst of all my organ was swelling erect in its slippery nylon confines.

Julie did not come to my rescue, instead agreed with her friend; she’d make sure I was dressed for her next time we visited. My humiliation however was just beginning, how would I cope at work?

"It’s hardly practical for to wear them at the present time. Would silk stockings work? They’re higher than his socks, and would protect the thigh area."

"Yes, but the rash is that bad he needs more. Silk bloomers would work; they’d reach below his knees and protect the most badly effected area. At home though, it should be silk or satin; they’re the fabrics which will give the most protection. After treatments with the cream, his skin will gradually return to normal and he maybe able to return to normal, though I won’t guarantee it.

With a laugh my wife replied, it might be the way he prefers.

"By that time it may be the way he prefers. Once a body gets use to silk and satin it’s hard to change."

"Excuse me," I said, almost shouting to break into the conversation. "I’m not wearing nylon or silk stockings, I feel stupid enough already with these new clothes."

Sylvia Bryce said snidely, "Maybe that not entirely the fault of the clothes Nellie. Whoops I mean Cornel."

I reddened; there was nothing I hated more than the contraction of my name.

"You really are being silly, the changes Julie made to your wardrobe, and her care of your skin saved you from some very uncomfortable skin problems that are quite difficult to cure. I suggest you do as you are told or you may become quite debilitated."

Well, I did not do as I was told. I stayed in the underwear I had been using because I had no choice. I remained unwavering in my refusal to don stockings and bloomers or whatever they were called. As if to mock me the rash did get worse and so did Julia’s attitude.

The rash was debilitating, which further worsened my sexual ability. By now I had become much more dependent on her, no longer the strong egotistical man of eight months ago. Sexually I could only to her bizarre methods. When I failed, she verbally humiliated me verbally while pointing at my flaccid organ "look at it, dear, it’s so soft and tiny, like a little boy. Is that what you are, a little boy?"

Her taunts, often left me in tears had the effect of arousing me. The greater the humiliation, the harder I would become. Leaving me to wonder what on earth would happen to me. I persisted with my attitude for a week at last the rash had become so bad I could no longer stand it.

"Please Julie help me, I can’t stand it any more, I promise do whatever is necessary."

"Promise to do as I say, and to be a good little boy."

"I do."

"You promise what?"

"I promise to be a good boy and do what you and Sylvia tell me

please. I’ll never disobey again, I’ll always be a good little boy."

With that she took a damp cloth and cleaned my thighs, now bloody from all the itching.

"I’m sorry but I going to have to shave you. You have let this rash go to far." She then shaved my entire body and applied what she said was the doctor’ s salve. It deadened the pain and the itch almost vanished. After all the salve had been smoothed into my body, she handed me a pair of her rayon pajamas. They were silky and peach colored with frothy cream lace I began to protest, but one look at the anger on her face stayed any further words. For the next three days I stayed in bed enjoying the sensual feel of the satin pajamas as they slithered against satin sheets.

I had to endure the contemptuous look of Dr. Sylvia Bryce as she examined me. "My you do look pretty, love those pajamas. They really suit you." It wasn’t the words that hurt, but the way they were said.

"Well for the moment the rash is gone, thanks to Julia and her choice of pajamas. Now are you going to listen to your wife and wear what you are told."

I felt so foolish, there was little I could do but say I was sorry and it wouldn’t happen again.

Next day I was ready to return to work and my wife was ready to dress me. Before I could put on my nylon panties my wife placed a pink lace garter belt around my waist!

"What’s that?" I exclaimed.

"A pretty garter belt, of course, looks quite nice around you honey."

"I know what it is, I mean what are you doing?"

"Why you silly goose, I’m putting it around your waist. What did it look like?"

"I mean why, I won’t wear it!’ ¹

"Honey, you must we don’t want your silk stockings falling around your ankles. Do we? You would look awfully funny running around the office like that. Now you’ve already promised to do what you are told as far as dress is concerned. I don’t want to go through another week like the last two.

Now you didn’t start crying when I shaved you. Besides the rash, those smooth legs of yours are crying for stockings, just think how nice and pretty they’ll look and how cool and sexy they’ll feel! Just forget that stupid male vanity of yours."

With that and over my muted objectives she fastened me into the garter belt and then sat me down on the edge of the bed. I felt so vulnerable and powerless...

"Point your toes honey."

She rolled one black silk stocking then the other up my legs. Fastening the suspenders to the top of the stockings, explaining to me how to do the same in the future. I looked down at my thighs, scarcely believing that the gartered, silk-stockinged legs were mine, they did feel cool and sexy.

"You will definitely need a pedicure, not to snag these stockings." she commented in passing. "But we will take care of that later."

Then she stood me up and handed me a silken confection; I shook them opened, horrified at what I saw.

"I can’t wear these." In my hands were a pair of pink satin bloomers, they were knee length, with a frill of white lace around the elastic at the knees. "I can’t wear those Julia, please don’t make me." I felt so ashamed that she expected me to wear such a feminine garment, I could feel my eyes filling with tears. "Please Julia, don’t make me."

Her hand cupped my chin, "Nellie, its’ all right, no one will see them. I’m afraid they’re rather old fashioned but there was nothing else. Now come on, be brave."

I drew the bloomers up my legs, the frilled elastic fitted just below my knees and an elastic band fitted securely about my waist. The material was soft and slithered about my groin. The combination of appearing before my wife in such an effeminate garment and slither of the satin against my most intimate parts started an erection that was impossible to hide."

"Well honey I’ve enjoyed dressing you, and you look as though you do too." As she lightly touched my excited member.

I tried to explain that I just couldn’t help it, but she brushed my words aside.

"You will have to learn to do this yourself, it’s not that hard we girls do it every day! Mmm, honey; stand back, now turn around. I must admit those shaved legs of yours look pretty good in silk. I never realised how feminine your legs are. You know, I bet you would get plenty of wolf whistles on Main Street in a mini- skirt, black stockings, and with the proper padding of course!"

"Oh, please, don’t Julia, its’..".

"Hush up! Not that you would need it all over, either. You are getting pretty full in the behind and hips. I mean your waist is nothing but the bottom is getting a bit much, I think all this lying in bed has taken it’s toll, perhaps a nice pantie girdle..."

By this time my face was scarlet with shame, and tears were flowing freely. Julia told me not to be so silly and hush; after all it was my own fault that these changes were necessary. Then came a white satin camisole, thankfully it was plain with only two simple straps over the shoulders and it would not show beneath my shirt.

Julia drew from the wardrobe new trousers, they were obviously not male, but by this time I was beyond argument and just accepted my fate. They were in a soft smooth fabric with a distinct luster. "It’s French crepe, honey, doesn’t it feel lovely. You can thank Sylvia for them she knew that they would be just right for your skin condition."

Julia was right, they were very soft to wear, but I cringed at the way the fabric clung to my body, looking in the mirror I was certain I could see the outline of the bloomers, and suspenders.

"Oh darling you are becoming paranoid, of course you can’t, its’ all in your imagination."

I had become used to the challis shirts, although they were male the fabric was too feminine for my liking, but now even they had been replaced. Julia held up a pale blue shirt. To my horror I realised that it was a blouse she had worn only last week, the lustrous satin gleamed softly in the light.

"No Julia I won’t. Definitely not."

"Nellie, you are trying my patience. Will you stop this male ego nonsense; it is what lead to the rash. No one will realise it is a woman’s blouse, your tie will hide the way the buttons fasten on the other side, now please hurry."

The patterned blue silk tie did hide the buttons, but I still felt it was going to be obvious that I was wearing a woman’s blouse not a male shirt. Julia rubbished the idea, "honey you’re just too conservative. Besides you’ll have to get used to them, La Femme had a sale yesterday and I managed to get six of them in white blue and cream."

Julia saw the anger in my eyes, "there’s no point in arguing Nellie, all this is your own fault. If you had taken the advice of Sylvia and I there would never have been a problem. However you and your precious male ego knew better, now we have got rid of the rash, all you do is complain. I’ve just about had enough. Except what I’m doing for you or leave."

I was that shocked, Julia was right of course it had been my own stupidity that had bought it all about. "Please Julia, I’m sorry. I’ll do what you want." My voice betrayed the emotion I felt, I was almost sobbing.

"Honey, don’t cry, I’ll look after you, just remember its’ for your own good."

She slid patent leather loafer on my feet and helped me into the jacket. It was the same soft French crepe and fitted perfectly. Julia dabbed my eyes with her silk handkerchief, "come along dear, its time for work."

As I walked towards the car, I could feel the gently restraining garter belt. Moreover, the movement of the silk bloomers against my silk stockings.

At that moment my resentment collapsed, I responded to the association of rustling silk on silk that had been built upon Julia’s sexual games. The feeling was so pleasurable all the fight was taken out of me, I could even feel a faint stirring in my groin as the soft silk garments began caressing my masculinity.

There were also changes to come at work. I had been sick for three days, and Aurora Investments were now undertaking an important new project. A colleague had been assigned to my normal research and I was too work closely with Ms Roth on the "Paris Project" as it was called. I found myself in her office as her assistant, her secretary had left I also found myself doing much of her confidential work as well. She raised her eyebrows at my appearance, when I walked in, then said I looked very nice. My colleagues, a very macho lot was surprisingly subdued, there was a wolf whistle or two, but they were quickly silenced.

I realised I had been rather paranoid, Julia was quite correct, nobody realised my new outfit was really female clothing. It was weeks before I found out the truth. Ms Roth had spoken to the staff while I was out collecting the post. It had been made very clear, that any harassment in any form what so ever would lead to instant dismissal of the person concerned.

I left at the end of the day, with a very pleased Ms Roth. She was pleased with the cooperation I had shown, and had confidence that we would be able to work together in the future. She would hire a junior secretary for the general work, but I would be responsible to completing the confidential typing and the new investment portfolio. The extra responsibility meant a hefty increase in salary.

I went straight home after work. dressed as I was I couldn’t afford my accidents or drinks in the bar. It was a surprise find her home already preparing dinner.

"You have time to shower before dinner honey. When you are finished I’ll apply the rash cream." She called. The cream was massaged into my body, and continued further onto my organ. I had become highly aroused by the bloomers and silk stockings during the day and soon it was semi-rigid, we moved to the bed and she opened the crotch of her sleek satin jumpsuit. Julia manipulated my partly erect organ between her legs, the feel of the slithery material against my body was most sexy feeling I had ever experienced, and my organ entered her moist cleft. Our lovemaking continued until I was sexually dry and could ejaculate no more, but still she kept my softening organ in her until her caresses began to hurt the delicate flesh.

I began to dress voluntarily put on my own silk stockings and garterbelt. A fresh pair of bloomers were on the bed, tighter fitting than the ones I had worn this morning. Julia handed me a pair of satin pants, the thought of refusal entered my mind but sexually sated I no longer had the will to fight, and began to put them on.

"Honey, you’re putting them on backwards."

"I’ve got the zipper in the front."

"I know," she laughed, ‘but those some more from the ‘La Femme’ sale, the zipper goes in the back. I couldn’t find a pair in a male shop that could fit your new figure. They were all cut for slim guys, and your hips and fanny are anything but thin."

She then turned them around and helped me in-to them, closing the zipper and the hook. They were quite snug and form revealing, I felt odd, standing there aware of the satin fabric’s tightness, especially around my hips, behind, and between my legs. Because of the absence of a fly, my male equipment was clearly visible beneath the shimmery material, I would not be able wear this around anyone but my wife.

"Wow, it feels funny closing your back zipper after having such troubles getting you to do mine. But I guess you won’t object to that anymore."

Next she pulled out a matching blouse and started to pull it over my head.

"I’ll wear a shirt." I cried.

"The blouse came with the pants, its part of an outfit; we can’t let it go to waste."

With that she finished pulling it over my head and then zipped me up for the second time that night. The feel of satin over satin over silk stockings against my softened skin, was very sensual, my hairless chest tingled beneath the sleek satin blouse. In addition, my organ was reacting to the tightly zippered satin pants, to avoid embarrassing myself, I tried calming thoughts, but walking downstairs the layers of soft materials almost made me lose control.

As my wife served dinner, she placed the loop of a lace apron over my head.

"Stand up honey, so I can tie the straps."

"Why the apron?"

"When one eats lobster one wears a bib, and when you wear a satin outfit for the first time you must wear an apron. Now you stand up before I get angry."

Despite attired, I had dinner and discussed my new position at work. My wife showed no surprise, and was quite pleased with my raise. In fact she said if the raise came as a permanent part of the job I should stay where I was better off, she did have a point there, financially at least. The next surprise came after dinner, when she decided that as long as I had an apron on I might as well do the dishes.

"But I already do all the laundry on weekends.

"I know honey, but I cook on weekends, and during the week and massage you, and I could become too tired for love-making....."

I thought of the pleasure of a few minutes ago and the possibility of that being denied, I cried, "I’ll do the dishes..." From then on I did the dishes, and shortly after I started cleaning the kitchen also.

That moment was a seminal one, thinking back on her remarks several hours later I realised for the first time how manipulative she could be. Weeks later I figured out how I had arrived in my predicament, but by that time it was too late to change. I had had no real chance to avoid the role that she and Doctor Sylvia Bryce had planned for me.

That night at bedtime I was given a pink satin pajamas, I didn’t even begin to protest knowing it was pointless.

My body was become very feminized. Besides my rather large hips and bottom, my chest was also changing. The nipples had become enlarged and little breasts were developing. At the moment they weren’t large enough to attract attention when wearing a shirt, but they were large enough to prevent me from running around bare- chested without drawing stares from anyone I knew.

My wife had talked with Doctor Sylvia. She explained it was a minor side effect of the cream and would go away shortly after I stopped using the medicine, probably in about two month. Julia said she would have a silk brassiere made to my specifications by a custom corsetiere. At the suggestion of a silk brassiere in the form of a teen training bra, shiver of excitement went through me, at the thought of a tight silken garment caressing my newly sensitive nipples. I wondered why wife smiled at my change of voice, telling - not to worry, that she would take care of it, just like she would take care of everything. I tried to tried to mount a half-hearted objection which she quickly squashed... soon I would have my own custom made silk bra!

This explains why I wouldn’t sleep in the raw, and had donned her pajamas. Since this morning and the wearing of satin pants I had become obsessed with touch of the slithery material against my skin, it didn’t matter that it was abnormal. My wife had clothed the bed in nylon satin sheets and was wearing a silk nightgown: the combination of my wife nestling against me, together with the satin bed sheets kept me in a state of arousal all night. Several times she caressed my erect manhood through the satin, almost bringing causing me to wet my nightclothes.

As my chest continued to assume feminine proportions it also became more sensitive. Any manipulations of this area gave me pleasure and Julia added them to her love making efforts. Where once I caressed her breasts and sucked her hard nipples, she now used these techniques to me. At first it was her hands through the satin of the gown, then one night she started to use her tongue on my swollen nipples while her hand massaged my groin.

I was aroused like never before, my maleness erect and throbbing in my satiny ladies pajamas and now my nipples erect and tingling. Aroused as perhaps only a woman could be, I began to cry and whimper softly as my wife brought me to the edge of climax, then slid down to softly caress the area around my aching nipples, or barely touch my throbbing maleness through the straining satin. "Please, dear, take me, make - Come, ... ohhh, I want to come, please. Then she brought me to full orgasm as I broke down and began to cry, my gasping mouth pressed against her perfumed hair. My feelings were completely submissive; I accepted her control and would never be an aggressor again, in bed or anywhere else

After I cleaned up my wife approached me with one of her nighties.

"Darling I have no more pajamas and this pair is ruined, look at the rip you made in the crotch, you bad, bad boy! Anyway I think you should wear something that leaves your breasts more open to my attention, you did like that didn’t you honey? So it will be nighties for you, unless you want to sleep in the buff."

At that point I was so well trained I couldn’t imagine not sleeping in satin or silk. I’d never be able to fall asleep without them. Therefore, I allowed my wife to slip the satin nightgown over my head. It was a short gown that came to just below my hips, allowing her roving hands easy access to my privates. Spaghetti straps supported it’s silken gathered bodice which was cut low exposing the rounded top of my breasts and allowing more than visual access. We made love again and I ~ I’d never wear anything out gowns to bed. As she quietly drew the flounced panties up around my waist I began dreaming of new through baby dolls and long sleek satin dressing gowns, and.

After that I was at my wife’ s command. So when I put a run in my stockings and she said it was about time I had a pedicure I didn’t object, how could I, after all silk stockings are anything but cheap. She didn’t stop there, though. After doing my toes she gave me a manicure. She painted my fingernails with a clear polish out did my toenails in a vibrant red. She explained it would keep me from fooling around at the office. With the underwear, or rather with the lingerie, I was now wearing that was hardly possible, but I was unwilling to argue with my wife about anything. Next she turned her attention to my hair. She hadn’t permitted me to stop anywhere on the way from work. That included the barber and my hair was fairly long.

"Doing your nails reminds me I am getting out of practice. With that raise and Harriet, so happy with your work."

"Harriet?"

"Ms Roth, silly. She told me, how cooperative you are! She is going to make your current job permanent with a large increase. Really you should go a stylist, but today I’ll do it."

How did Julia know what Ms Roth thought and why had she been told I was getting a raise? Julia had been staying back later at the office over the last few weeks, due to showing clients through the new project.

"Ms Roth never mentioned it to me Julia."

"Well its true honey believe me."

It was obvious that she was far closer to Harriet Roth than I’d ever imagined. Ms Roth never let anyone call her by her first name, but Julia used it with ease. It was said that Harriet Roth was fond of women, could she and Julia, no I didn’t even want to think of it.

She draped a satin cloth around my and began cutting my hair. When the trimming was done and everything was even she started putting on the rollers, I started to object but in a very sharp tone she told me not to move. I attempted to protest when she began with the drier. It turned out to be pointless, as it was made quite plain I’d be deprived of further sexual activity if I persisted.

I came out from under the drier and the curlers were removed she let me admire my first permanent. It was astonishing what the softly curled hair did to my features. Even without makeup I was a very pretty girl, not for the first time did conflicting emotions rush through my body. It was exciting to see my feminine side, but to know that it was a facade, and beneath the curls I was male. The excitement I felt made it even worse, that my mind was accepting even welcoming the image in the mirror, when I should have been feeling disgust and fighting to return to my normal world.

From then on she insisted my hair was done weekly. I refused to go to work in this form, it was the worst argument we had ever had, but for once I refused to give in. It was most traumatic and I wept and cried throughout it, in the end Julia allowed me a concession, to cover my curls I was allowed to wear a male stretch wig. Once home, however, I bad to remove it immediately and give my hair a quick brush-out, or face my wife’s displeasure.

At this point, with some padding in my silk bra I would have made a convincing young woman. I looked quite a woman in my long hair, satin pants and blouse, even more a woman in my seductive bedroom attire.

The treatment continued, at least another month was required said Doctor Sylvia, by now my body had become quite feminine. In fact I was so well curved I could hardly get into my male pants. Julia noticed my difficulty in fastening the zip. "Well, I guess it’s a stricter diet for you now darling, we must reduce that bottom of yours."

"I really need larger pants."

"Look honey, the waist is fine. It’s that behind of yours, but I think I’ve got the answer, come upstairs with me."

I followed her up thinking all the while what was next, did I even care? Once inside the bedroom she opened a drawer, the one filled with her bras and girdles. "Here, honey, try this pretty pantie girdle, we girls wear them all the time, they are great beneath those sexy designer jeans, which are supposed to be nice and tight!"

No matter how I struggled, Julia would not accept a refusal. I clumsily pulled on the tight, stretchy long leg panti-girdle. Despite the chagrin of having my maleness further eroded, there was a feeling of pride when I saw what it did for my figure. My pants fitted me just fine.

"At home you do not have to worry. Your feminine pants are cut to fit, but at work you will have to wear the girdle, well I guess I better buy you several of your own, I’m sure pink would be just fine wouldn’t it dear? In addition, you’ll soon get used to the control. It really does wonders for your figure, honey."

"How long is this going to keep up? Pretty soon I won’t look like a man any more."

"Don’t worry honey, just do as you’re told! The doctor knows what is best; I know what is best. Wear that nice pretty girdle to work, it won’t kill you, girls wear them all day, you know."

"But, I’m not a..." I stopped in mid-sentence I had finally learned not even to attempt an argument. I did wear the girdle but then one day I couldn’t bear it any longer. It wasn’t just the tightness of it, but it was difficult to put on, some-times my wife had to help me, often she offered quite embarrassing remarks during the process, and when I got home the first thing I did was pull the damn thing off. "Just like a woman." she would always add.

A week later I complained about the girdle after returning from work and my wife tried to convince me to try on one of her dresses.

"You would look quite cute in a dress. Your legs are gorgeous." This sort of knocked the wind out of me. After that I learned to keep my complaints to myself.

Julia was very involved in her work; it seemed she was on a roll. Despite her inexperience she had succeeded where the so-called professionals had failed. Ms Roth considered her, the star player in the company and I was seeing less and less of her. Late night business dinners and two interstate seminars that she had attended with Ms Roth. Julia returned from the overnight stay, quite exhausted but elated. Surprisingly her sexual energy was no longer the problem for me that it had been, she was quite content to go to bed and to sleep. Where previously it had taken all my energy to satisfy her.

Work was becoming quite pleasant, and Ms Roth seemed to have

Grown quite fond of me. She considered me very cooperative which I suppose was shorthand for submissive. My career was going well I never wasted time flirting with the other workers or gossiping on the phone. Ms Roth said I was the most competent assistant she had ever employed, and she was very pleased that I had taken over the confidential secretarial duties.

"You are far the best girl I’ve ever had." Suddenly she saw my crimson

face and realised what she had said. "I mean the best assistant, Nellie. I don’t know what made me say that."

I did though, struggling to contain the tears threatening to course down my cheeks. It was impossible to disguise the way my body had changed, or the feminine clothes Julia had forced me to wear. Despite Ms Roth’s threats of dismissal to anyone who harassed or teased me, it had not stopped two of the more macho salesman catching me in the toilet and calling me all sorts of awful names.

Charlie Duggan was continually pinching my bottom, and yesterday had tried to feel my tiny breasts when I burst into tears, he let me go but threatened to hurt me if I told Ms Roth. Julia was late returning that night and she was too tired to listen to my complaint. From then on I made sure the men had left the building before I used the toilet

By now my hips and bottom had become even more rounded and my pants were becoming tighter in the seat. They had reached the point where they could no longer even be buttoned without the aid of the long leg, high-waist pantie girdle I used to control my new figure. Finally the inevitable happened, when I bent over to file some papers the back seam of my trousers split wide open. Sitting at her desk my boss had a clear view; I quickly turned red with embarrassment, as she could see everything.

"My goodness! My word!^" she exclaimed with a sharp laugh as she walked over. "I had no idea you were so fond of nylon or is it satin? I mean pink is a nice cute color and all that; but most men short of shy away from it, at least in underwear."

Then she got a better look as she got closer, I was frozen in shock trying to think of something to do, anything, my hands went behind me to try to hide my embarrassment.

"Well, well pink satin bloomers. Nellie dear, they are rather cute but I had no idea. Julia mentioned you were having trouble sexually and your pants did slide a bit much. I never realised that you’d gone this far."

I was scarlet and could hardly breathe much less talk. Julia had been talking to her about our most intimate details. Oh how could she discuss this with Ms Roth of all people? I just wanted to curl up into a little ball and cry.

"I, I’m, so embarrassed, Ms Roth, "I sobbed, " I have this skin condition and Julia and our doctor said I had to wear…."

"Oh Nellie stop it, there is no need to cry. What your doctor said doesn’t matter, don’t make excuses. What underwear, or in your case ‘lingerie’, you wear is your business. Just as long as your dress preferences don’t interfere with your work. I like wool pants suits, tailored a bit on the masculine side. You like satin, even though they are a bit kinky, who care as long as you are a good employee. Now the problem is to fix your pants.

"But.. can’t I go home to fix them?"

"And now are you going to even get out of this office showing off your pink undies like you’re doing right now? Come on, give me those pants and I’ll get them fixed." I was hesitant. "Don’t be shy, in this business I’ve seen plenty of people in their underwear, men and women. Besides at this point what secrets could you have from me anyway?"

With that she helped remove my pants and left the room. What could I do, standing in the executive’s office without any trousers, my stockinged legs and bloomered bottom visible for anyone to see? When she returned I was standing in the corner, hoping that a potted palm would cover my embarrassment. She started to say some-thing about the pants then my legs caught her eye.

"Oh, now darling! They’re not socks, they’re stockings.. .and, why they’re silk stockings, very nice, very classy. I wonder now you keep them up? Not with a..., let’s just see!" With three steps she walked over and before I knew her intentions she pulled down my bloomers to reveal a lace garter belt and suspenders. I was ready to die on the spot as I stood my maleness revealed. What could I do? With a smile as broad as I had ever seen she said, " what beautiful taste you have in lingerie?"

My hands feebly tried to hide my embarrassment as I tightly clasped my thighs together, as if that would help at all.

"And shaved legs... let me feel them, ahhh, they’re not bad, not bad at all. Why from the waist down you’ve got a lovely figure, but your panties are a little old fashioned. Turn around, mm very nice, a quite attractive ..... No wonder these pants don’t fit, you’ve got a twenty-five waist and thirty-five inch hips! You should be wearing Misses pants, in fact, with those legs you should be wearing Misses Skirts!"

"Oh, please, Ms Roth stop it! Stop it!"

"Don’t take that tone of voice with me! I’ll have you out the door this minute, then see you get tough with, standing there like a naked girl in your cute panties. Just a minute, remove your tie. Well well, it’s a blouse, and a very pretty one."

"Wait on, open the blouse."

I hesitated I couldn’t my worst secret would be revealed.

"Come on, well my goodness. Right under my eyes you’ve been wearing a bra and a silk one to boot. What other secrets do you have? I thought I knew my staff well but I didn’t have the faintest idea it went this deep. Julia didn’t drop a hint of your strange tastes.

"I’m begging you, please don’t tell anyone."

"Why, honey, this is too interesting to share with the world. Just be a good little boy and do what you’re told and you may not be too embarrassed by the time I let you go home." With that she went to her closet and took out a skirt. "We’re close enough in size, so put this on. And don’t tell me no, put it on or else... the zipper goes on the left. Yes, very interesting.. .a little bizarre, but very interesting...

I had no choice. I stepped into it, pulled it up and zippered it closed. I was mortified, what had happened to me? My underwear was being called lingerie, feminine, silky, pink lingerie. In addition, I wore women’s satin pants at home, and now a skirt, I had no fight left in me.

"Walk away, I want to see how it hangs. Now swing your hips a little." I did as she instructed. "Perfect, perfect, it’s yours, a little present from me to you. The shoes and shirt are perfect, patent leather penny loafers and the blouse is fine. Now all you need is a little padding for cleavage, some make-up, and a wig! Sounds like fun?"

. She then filled the cups with crumpled tissue to complete fullness.

"Just like the girls used to do in high school." Then she had me replace my shirt.

"Hmm, not bad, actually you should have your own padded bra, but this will do for today. Now sit down so I can do your face. It’s as smooth as a baby’s behind so I don’t think we’ll have any problem."

She began to pluck my eyebrows. "Ouch" I complained. She replied, "You know we’ve all got to suffer for beauty, so hush up, I’ll be done in a flash."

She thinned the brows so they arched femininely above my eyes, and removed the hair on the bridge of my nose. Next she colored then with eyebrow pencil and mascaraed my eyelashes, arching them up with the brush.

"Your eye lashes are so long and lovely it’s hard to believe your hair doesn’t follow suit. If I was of a suspicious nature I’d think you’d have to be wearing a wig. Not that I think a fellow wears nylons and panties would wear a wig, but ..." With that she grabbed my hair and yanked, letting my permed cascade of luscious hair fall to my shoulders.

"My, my, ... and I always thought you were going bald. Well, well, well, you do have lovely hair. Now shake it out dearie so I can comb it."

I moved my head as she instructed. She then combed and fluffed it out till she was satisfied with the way it set.

"Why you would want to hide all this lovely hair I’ll never understand, most women would die to have hair this healthy and shiny. I wish mine was as pretty."

She then returned to my face. A make-up base was applied, then some face powder and rouge. The lipstick came last. This she made me apply myself while she explained how it was done. It seemed to give her a strange thrill to have such power over a man and make him apply lipstick. It was a cherry red and gave ~ lips a wet look. After I applied it she bad me blot try lips on a tissue. She then stared at - for several minutes while trying to catch her breath. Finally she was able to speak.

"Why, I can’t believe it, you are just lovely! If I were a man, I’d love to grab that body and ravage and rape ... I’d love to see .... huh, excuse me, I’m getting a little carried away. But the job must be finished first; we can’t leave your nails bare. I can tell you are taking good care of them, and your hands are feminine enough. However, for a finishing touch they do need polish. A nice bright red would do fine."

She explained bow to apply it and made me do it myself, all the while looking at me with the strangest expression. Luckily I had had practice under my wife’ s careful tutelage and did not paint my skin red as I had when I was first learning to give manicures.

She watched, with a slightly glazed look over her eyes, while I applied the polish. She gave herself away by the movements of her hands in her lap, the rotation of her elbows and the slow suggestive rocking of her hips. She was obviously erotically stimulated by my servitude; a femininely dressed male on his knees attending to her manicure was her fantasy of a male dominated. I knew why she never married and had always dated such effeminate men. I wondered what other personal "tasks" she would have me, no force me, to perform in the future.

After I had blown the nails dry she made me walk around the office instructing me how to move in a feminine manner.

"Now, now little lady, be sure to swing your hips as you walk, nothing is quite as sexy as the view from here, let’s see you turn on your heels, that’s it, now faster.. Oh my, one can see a sexy flash of your lacy panti-slip." Later I practiced sitting on a high backless stool, care-fully arranging the folds of my skirt so only my knees and a enticing expanse of stockinged thigh was visible. I began to learn how to sit like a lady. When she was satisfied she said I was to finish the day’s work dressed as I was, and under her personal supervision.

She sat there for the rest of the day watching me work. Any movement that was not to her satisfaction she would make me do again and again. She spoke in a husky bedroom voice and her hand never stopped moving. At times I would glance to see her hand slowly moving beneath her skirt... I had become her sex toy. Finally at five o’clock she called me over to her desk and had me bend over her. Her freshly manicured hands fluttered before my face.

"Yes, dear, you did a professional job on these hands don’t you think. And I shall have to reward you for your efforts."

As she spoke her right hand descended to my bosom and deftly unbuttoned the luxurious silk blouse to my waist. I began to blush quite uncontrollably at being so exposed and wearing her bra! Her left hand quickly swept up underneath try skirt and began to caress my silken fanny. Being so close to her, enveloped in her perfume, I felt my manhood become erect within its satin confines. Yet before I could react she slipped a hundred dollar bill in try bra and told me to go home.

"Like this?" I stuttered.

She seemed to find it difficult to speak but replied, "You’ll pass. It would be too much work to change you back. If I did a quick job you would look like a girl trying to pass as a boy! Your wife seems to like you in stockings, panties, and curled hair anyway. It is a pity she was working from home today; otherwise she could have helped me.

Before I could break away I felt her hand, still beneath my skirt, grasp and caress my swollen organ. I finally broke away and left, closing the door behind me. I was about to go back and try once again to have her transform me back into a male when her orgasmic groans stopped me. I could hear her climax through the door

I could not go back there now. Luckily the outer office was deserted as it was by now after six and I hoped I wasn’t so obvious, but the nervousness must have shown as I walked to the company parking lot. I fumbled with my keys, and finally managed to get in, start up my car, and slowly drive home. The last thing I could avoid was being stopped by the police for speeding.

I pulled the car into the drive way and checking to make sure that no one was watching, dashed up the sidewalk and stairs into the house. I was late and found my wife waiting at the head of the stairs waiting for me, a bemused look on her face, "I ask you to wear a dress and no, you refuse. Now look at you, just the perfect little secretary. For your sexy lesbian boss you do it, why I should make you...

"I told you a thousands times I had no choice. I was forced by circumstances you created to do it, and you know how forceful she can be, she threatened me, what could I do?"

This went on for sometime when all of a sudden my wife began to smile. "0h, well you look so cute in that skirt, I just cannot stay mad at you. Come over here and sit besides me, my little kitten."

I sat down next to try wife; it was like a young girl’s first date in her parent’s parlor. Her hands were quickly on my knees, then slipped beneath try skirt and began to caress try silken thighs, once again I began to get quite excited, even my breathing began to quicken. Then her hands closed in on my hardening manhood and quickly began to caress its hardness beneath the satin bloomers. Before I knew it she had drawn the lingerie dawn around my knees, ‘imprisoning my thighs in a silken grip. She was on top of me quickly and forced ~ to surrender to her overpowering passions I had no choice in the matter at all, my only path was submission. Later we recovered to find ourselves sprawled on the sofa; my clothes were half off, my panties and stockings bunched around my knees...

"Let’s go up and clean up." she said. We took our first bath together. She bathed and shaved me and then I did her.

"Since you wore a bra at your boss’s request I don’t think I have to save this anymore."

She pulled out a pair of black silk panties, sided with ribbons and surrounded with lace, such wonderfully luxurious feminine panties. This time I really baulked, or at least I tried to. Silk I did love and had become addicted to, but it was because of the rash on my legs I was wearing the bloomers. These were feminine confections which would offer no protection at all.

"I’m sure these will be fine, the ointment will protect you my love, besides these are so sexy, look at the lace and ribbons."

Still I hesitated; they were so feminine through the haze of my addiction I was beginning to realise how far my wife had gone with me. Before I could answer she patted my behind and then planted a wet kiss on my lips. "I think your pink undies have got to go, after all you look so much sexier in black." Without waiting for a reply she fastened a new garter belt around my hips. It was black satin, to match my new panties. Then she had me put on my silk stockings. I went to get my satin pants but she stopped me once more.

"Honey, it’s shame to hide those beautiful legs of your in pants, put this on, not those pants."

"A slip? "

It was not only a satin petticoat but also a skirt in the same material. My wife then put her arms around me and we danced. She led of course, often holding me to tight that our bosoms caressed each other through our dresses and bras, only increasing our mutual excitement. She kissed me full on the lips and did not ask but stated, "You love it."

I replied in a resigned and submissive tone, "Yes dear I love it."

From that time on my clothes changed. Ms Roth rang quite early in the morning. After the call, Julia went to the wardrobe and removed all my male clothing; even the feminine sharkskin trousers I had been wearing my wife took control before I could answer. She fastened me into a black satin and whales bone corset that comes with the outfit. It didn’t pinch my waist which was already very feminine proportioned but was so designed and padded that it pushed up my small breasts and gave me a fine natural looking cleavage. The sleek satin corset felt both exciting and restrictive to wear besides giving me perfect posture, thrusting my bosom forward. The stockings, panties, and slip she had me put on by myself, commenting on my various embarrassed expressions.

My entrance into Aurora Investments, the following morning dressed completely as a woman evoked little comment. Charlie Duggan just raised his eyes and nudged the two salesmen who were with him. It was a told you so approach. Ms Roth didn’t say anything to them in front of me, but later the two salesman emerged white faced after a talk with her. Charlie was given the sack on the spot, so no one in the company harasses me now.

In fact it was Julia who became Sales Manager taking over Charlie Duggan’s job. She spends more time at work and entertaining customers, and I suppose it was natural I became more responsible for running the home. More and more of her work resulted in her staying out all night. At first I didn’t understand the implications involved and thought her dedication to work was really wonderful.

One night she arrived home at two in the morning. While she was undressing one look at her stained underwear was enough to make me understand that customer relations meant more than having dinner with them. It was the last time I became really annoyed, if I’d been man enough I would most likely hit her, but that time was long past. We sat and talked out our new relationship and a great deal emerged.

Over the past months even before she took over as Sales Manager, Julia had been seeing a number of Aurora’s important clients and if it had been necessary to clinch a sale, she had had no hesitation in having sex with them. Her sales success had dramatically increased and Harriet Roth had been very impressed. This was why she had no hesitation in removing Charlie Duggan .

The discussion lead to another confession by Julia. She and Harriet were also very close, over the last three-month they had become casual lovers. All of their encounters had taken place at the out of state seminars, while both enjoyed the sexual play; it would not go beyond that.

To say the least I was staggered by her revelations, but strangely enough I felt no anger. Really there was little enough male within me now to act out the wronged husband. When Julia said that she still loved me and wanted to continue our marriage, I agreed. Really it was with a sense of relief that I wanted to live with her, I loved her and I didn’t think there was any way I could return to normal, or any way I could. What was left for me, Harriet Roth was unlikely to let me to return to being Cornel and outside Aurora Investments there was the problem of establishing a new career as well paying as the one I had. Besides in a perverse way I had begun to like being Nellie.

There was only one thing that almost destroyed us, and it occurred about a week after Julia’s revelations. We had Sylvia over for dinner; even she had become easier to accept these days. It was during the meal that Julia said to Sylvia she had told me everything. There was a look of surprise on Sylvia’s face, "everything? I’m so glad you weren’t mad about the rash Nellie. I’m sorry we went to such lengths but really I didn’t like you then."

"What do mean Sylvia. What about the rash?"

It was clear that Sylvia had made a dreadful mistake, Julia had been talking about her extramural activities at Aurora Investment, but obviously there was more to it than that. So it turned out, and that was when I learned about the harmless itching powder that was used to start the rash. Julia had merely dusted it into my underwear and then Sylvia had provided the hormones and salve that had gradually stripped away my masculinity. It was a joke that had gone too far.

I broke down at that stage and began to cry. A very embarrassed Sylvia made her excuse and departed apologizing to both Julia and I. Even now I’m not sure whether the apology was for the act, or because she told me about it.

I didn’t speak to Julia for two days I was so upset, then I began to stop feeling sorry for myself and realised just what a terrible man I’d been. We made up after that and we’ve really been happy. I’ve enjoyed a number of nights out with the girls, Julia, Sylvia, and Harriet, really they turned out to be fun. Harriet once away from work is great fun, a real surprise to me.

All that has lead to this evening, it is early Saturday evening, and I’m walking into the leading Portland hotel to meet Monsieur Paul Cartier. He is the important client; it was for his company that I completed all the research for in the "Paris Project." Monsieur Cartier arrived two days ago to discuss the multi million dollar project. He is happily married with a wife and two children in France, but he also has an eye for pretty young men who dress as girls. Somehow he found out my true sex and suggested to Harriet, that I entertain him on his last night in Portland.

It was Julia who first suggested it; it came as a complete shock that she could even think I’d do it. When Harriet talked further about it and discussed the bonus I’d receive if Cartier invested the money into the project, the objection I’d felt began to disappear. Besides he was so good looking.

As he opened the door he looked even dreamier, tall with broad shoulders and an upright carriage. He was wearing a well-tailored tuxedo, and a silk evening shirt with a plain hand tied bow tie. "Mademoiselle Nellie, you look charming." He took my left hand and running his fingers along the satin glove drew it to his lips and kissed the tips of my fingers. It is impossible not to feel the sexual implications of such an act. Monsieur Cartier had a European charm not normally encountered in Portland.

"Please Mlle Nellie let me take your case, and my name is Paul."

I handed him the slim case that held my nightwear, underwear makeup, and some casual clothing for the morning. I stood looking out the window of the 20^th Floor as twilight settled over the city. Paul returned moments later, "a glass of champagne for a beautiful lady."

I began to say no, I was too nervous. He took my hand, "nervous Mlle Nellie, how can anyone so beautiful be nervous. Come this will settle your nerves."

It tasted delicious, and soon I was feeling more confident. Paul insisted my gown was the most elegant he’d seen.

It had been Julia’s choice, I’d never dreamed of wearing something so daring, it was very simple, an ankle length cream wrap round satin skirt, very slim. I had to be careful to avoid long strides otherwise my stockinged legs would be exposed as far as my thighs by the wrap round. Over it I wore a matching jacket and beneath this a camisole in ice blue colored satin. Julia insisted that a bra would spoil the line, so beneath the slinky material there was nothing to protect my breasts. I noticed several heads turn and look at us as we entered. I could tell what the women were thinking. You could almost see the jealousy in their eyes as I held onto Michael’s strong arm. But the reaction that surprised me was the one from the men. Being a man, I could almost read their minds as their eyes riveted on me and undressed me The dinner seemed to go quickly as I sat there and listened to Paul talk.

Paul asked if I would care to dance. I used to love dancing

I wasn’t sure I would be able to adjust following instead of leading, he

said not to worry, he would take it slow. As he led me by my hand to the

dance floor, I could feel my heart starting to race. He gently put one arm

around me with his hand on the small of my back. I put my hand on his shoulder it seemed so natural, even the high heels didn’t seem to bother me. As the tempo of the music slowed, I found myself pulling closer to Paul and I laid my head against his shoulder.

As our bodies started to melt together, I could feel his swollen manhood pressing against me, to my further surprise; I could feel my own penis strain against the silky fabric that confined it. Up to now I had tried to ignore what was likely to take place during the rest of the evening? I was not that naive to believe the rest of the evening would involve a nights sleep. It was that I preferred not to think of it. I am sure that I never had any homosexual feelings or tendencies as I was growing up, and the thought of kissing another man would never had entered my mind. However what I was feeling with Paul was more intense than anything that I had felt with any women (including my wife).

. We simply stood there looking into each other’s eyes, possibly

looking for some answers. Paul finally broke the silence and asked if I

wanted to go back to the hotel. I took his arm aware that our episode on the dance floor had not gone unnoticed and many envious eyes from both men and women followed our departure.

In the limousine I laid my hand on Michael’s leg. As we talked, I started rubbing my hand up and down his thigh, going a little higher with each stroke quickly finding his hardness then gave him a quick soft kiss. Paul gently opened my jacket and found my small breasts. With his lips on mine, his fingers caressed my nipples through the soft material, before we reached the hotel they were rock hard.

No sooner were we in the door than Paul had me in his arms again and was passionately kissing me. His cool french approach, apparently been lost on the dance floor. My jacket was slid from my shoulders to the floor, quickly followed by my skirt. I stood there as he slipped the camisole over my head leaving me only in my satin and lace garter belt, silk butterfly panties and silk stockings.

Paul stepped back, "Oh so lovely, you are gorgeous Nellie, your little extra, it is beautiful. He was looking down, and following his eyes realised he was referring to my organ, swollen and erect emerging from the centre of my satin butterfly panties.

"I blushed, how could this happen after all the hormones I had taken any erection away from Julia’s hands just did not occur. Now in front of this beautiful man I felt somehow betrayed. I started to remove my stockings.

"No Nellie, please leave them on, it will add to the excitement." He pulled the tie from about his neck.

"No let me." I moved to him and began to unbutton his silk shirt. The kneeling I slid first his shoes off and then a pair of silk socks. I raised my head; I saw the swelling behind, the silk and mohair of his trousers. My hands boldly reached towards his fly, they were stopped part way there.

"No you little vixen, not yet."

His hands raised me from my me knees. I slid the shirt from his shoulders and unfastened his zip, in one motion I pushed his trousers and silk boxers to his ankles. I was standing next to an incredibly handsome man whose own organ was much longer than my own. Paul drew me to the leather settee, seating himself he drew me onto his lap. I was facing him, my legs either side of his, his hard-ridged flesh pressing against my own.

We kissed his mouth opening wide and Paul’s tongue reaching deep inside mine our tongues playing their sexual games. Paul’s hands were caressing my breasts teasing the nipples until the were standing out from my breasts like miniature figureheads. I had never felt such pleasure; all this was beyond my imagination, playing like this with a male.

His mouth moved to my breasts and the sensuous gliding of his tongue across the nipple brought a sob of pleasure from my lips. Paul drew a small packet from the pocket of his jacket. Expertly he released a condom, I knew what must be done, taking it from his hands I slid the sheath over the quivering appendage. This was the first time I had been in intimate contact with another man’ penis. As hard as Paul was, the outer skin was silky to touch and his penis felt warm. He squeezed some gel from the tube and started to lubricate my puckered, virgin rosette then ran a finger up inside of me. I couldn’t avoid out a small squeal of delight and reached for the lubricant, to coat his member so that it was slick and ready. Paul could sense my nervousness, I was trembling.

"Please Nellie relax, "touching his tongue against my lips. Whispering, "my darling I’ll be gentle." Paul drew me closer to him, I

could feel the rigid shaft slide beneath my legs until it was touching my rosette. It nestled against my bottom; I waited as Paul continued to kiss my breasts. Then lowered myself on to the monster feeling the pressure as it waited to enter me. It was so exciting, acting out this womanly, submissive role that I wriggled about, pushing my dainty hole onto him, just begging to be entered

He was warm against the ridges of my rosette, but gradually my weight forced the ring apart and the shaft began to enter my hole. I gasped as it stretched me, but gradually my sphincter muscles relaxed, adjusting to his probing penis. Inch by inch, he began moving slowly in and out of the entrance. When Paul was convinced I was completely relaxed, he slowly and carefully pushed his way in.

"Oh, Paul, I feel you, the head is going in so far."

I continued to lower myself as he worked himself deeper and deeper into me, at last I knew he had penetrated me to the hilt, as I felt the soft hair around his member against my bottom. It was so delicious to feel him deep inside me. I couldn’t believe I was doing such a thing. I was being loved by a man and enjoying it!

"Your bottom is so soft and you’re so tight Nellie." Then holding my

hips, he worked his organ smoothly in and out, telling me to push my bottom down to meet each thrust. I closed my eyes in a state of dreamy passion, and my perfumed hair brushed against my cheek as my whole body rocked to meet his every stroke.

I had my legs wide open. I gasped backing my exposed bottom to meet his thrusts. My own organ was rigid as steel, as Paul took hold of it in his hand and masturbated me, calling it my beautiful clitty. I was almost beyond control: the stimulation of my prostate and my penis was so exquisite.

Paul was nearing his moment of ecstasy; I heard his deep drawn sighs and noticed his body making little trembling motions. Overcome with pleasure he was nearing his orgasm, Paul pushed, and I pushed and squeezed to hold his prick in my bottom. Then I could feel a throbbing, as he began to spasm. The juices were flooding me, filling the condom with ejaculate. My own penis, totally aroused by the touch of Paul’s smooth hands began to spurt and fill his hands with my hot seed.

It was another twenty minutes before either of us wanted to move. In the end it was the cramp in my leg that made us head for the bed. I had a quick wash before donning a short ivory colored nightgown. It was so comforting to snuggle against his muscular body for the night. Not that there was a lot of sleep involved. We made love twice during the night, the first was what Paul called "doggie" style. With me kneeling on the bed, two large pillows beneath my stomach and Paul taking me from behind, it produced all sorts of new sensations, but it was certainly not as intimate.

The second time we were face to face, with my legs up over his shoulders, my goodness its’ lucky the hotel rooms are soundproof, otherwise I’m certain security would have broken in. The orgasm was so intense and prolonged I just could not screaming with pleasure. I felt so embarrassed afterwards, but Paul was so pleased with himself, feeling he was really a demon lover. We did manage a last "quickie" in the shower; he again took me from behind. By this time I was really sore, but once he was inside me any pain vanished with the wonderful sensations his member produced.

Paul was flying out at eleven that morning, just enough time for a marvelous champagne breakfast. He insisted that I dress in front of him, by that time all the reservation I had of dressing in front of another man had vanished. I thought about this for a moment and realised that I was no longer thinking as a man, even that revelation vanished a few moments later as my member reacted to Paul’s kissing me on the neck. After that I gave up, and just accepted myself as I was.

Julia had packed a pink satin garter belt, grey silk stockings, satin tap panties, and pale grey silk camisole. Paul watched me, groaning went the panties finally covered my member. My outerwear was a simple mushroom colored silky crepe trouser suit, which I wore with medium heels. We held hands all through the trip to the airport and I was very sorry when at last he had to board the aircraft. There were tears in Paul’s eyes as he reached for a last kiss. I held him to me and gave one long lingering kiss, he probably thought I was clinging to him because he was leaving. That was only partly true, it was a thank you kiss. Paul would never know what he had done last night, he had released me from a prison of my own making. Now at last I had become Nellie. I was no longer in the fragile shell that sheltered the last masculine remnants of Cornel.

"I’ll see you in a months time Mlle Nellie, this was the most wonderful night of my life."

"Bye Paul, and thank you so much." I said as he disappeared though the door. We would meet again, and I hoped it would be just as marvelous as last night.

It was strange returning home to Julia, like returning to reality after a wonderful dream.

"You’ve changed Nellie," she said as I helped her prepare the house for the dinner we were having with Harriet and Sylvia later that night.

"I know." There was a questioning look in her eyes, I knew she wanted me to explain, but this was something I couldn’t put into words. She would just have to accept, their were some things that remain private.

 

© 1999
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