By Patricia Marie Allen
Chapter 1
A crazy idea
It was the Friday before Thanksgiving. My wife had taken the day off as a personal day. She needed the morning to help her mother do the shopping for Thanksgiving dinner. The woman was in her 60s and still insisted that she host the family dinners. I kind of thought that after my father-in-law died a couple of years ago, that that chore would fall on Carrie and I, but no, she said she wanted to keep things as normal as she could, even with Frank gone. Charlotte and Ted, Carrie’s sister and brother-in-law, lived in Denver, so we did Thanksgiving and they got Christmas. With their two kids, it made sense to fly their mother to Denver rather than fly all of them into Portland. I have to admit that I was a bit jealous of Carrie. She’d be done by one and have the rest of the afternoon for herself while I would have to stay at the old nine-to-five for a full day’s work.
“Hi Hon,” Carrie said when I came in. “You just missed Lisa. She’s been here since I got home.”
“Oh? I thought she and Mike were taking a long weekend out of town for their anniversary.”
“They were, but she was too upset and canceled the plans.”
Now I was confused. “Dare I ask just what it was that upset her?”
“She’s a bit pissed at me as well.” I looked at her, wondering where she was going with this.
“Why is she pissed at you?”
“She spent a couple of hours just trying to control her emotions. She had just shown up at the door saying she needed someone to talk to. Then she just started crying and mumbling that her marriage was over. Something about never being able to trust Mike again. It took me over an hour to get her to calm down and tell me what happened.
“I thought Mike had been cheating on her, or something. It turns out she caught him wearing her clothes. She was ranting about him being gay and how his going out with the guys was obviously more than the typical male bonding.”
“She’s nuts,” I answered. “I’ve known Mike since high school. Trust me, if anything he’s homophobic. He refused to go out for football; he said he didn’t want any guy patting him on the butt.”
“Yeah well, whatever. I must have been about fourteen when I saw that show, I think, Phil Donahue did with the married cross-dressers. I kind of thought it was cool. I tried to tell her about it and that it wasn’t as bad as she imagined. It was then she spouted off about, ‘If it was your husband, you wouldn’t think it was so cool.’”
“Well, she does have a point there. I mean, when it doesn’t affect you personally, it’s pretty easy to look at it objectively. But when you have to deal with it in your own family …” I shrugged.
“OK, Mike’s your longtime friend. What do you think about him cross-dressing?”
“It’s not that much of a surprise, really. Mike’s never been that much of a jock or macho type anyway. So, I guess if he has a feminine side, it could be easily understood. That plus the fact I know he’s not gay… OK, so if he wants to dress up in women’s clothes in his spare time, then who’s it gonna hurt?
“You know, now that I know that, it kind of explains the times back in high school he took so long to answer the door when I came over unexpected and he was alone in the house. Sometimes it seemed like he’d take ten minutes to answer the door when I knew he was there. He must have been scrambling to get out of his sister’s clothes.”
“I’d like to find out,” she replied.
Now there was non sequitur. “Find out what?”
“If I’d think it was cool if it was my husband.”
I blinked at her. “…And how do you intend to do that? Divorce me and marry Mike? Granted, Lisa being pissed like she is, just might trade you straight across. However, I’m kind of partial to the wife I’ve got and I don’t think I want to take the time to break in another one.”
“No silly,” said Carrie, smiling as she snaked her arms around my neck. She gave me a light kiss that was more than a peck, but less than passionate and continued, “It wouldn’t be the same if I didn’t already have feelings for him… and I have feelings for you, not Mike.”
“Well, I’m not a cross-dresser, so how are you going to find out?”
“You could be, you know.”
“What!?” I asked in shock. “Just what do you mean by that?” I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or not.
“Look, it’s not like you’re not all man, especially where it counts,” she told me as she rubbed her hips into me. “However, you do have… fine features and it wouldn’t be that hard to make you passable as a woman.”
“You’re joking right? This is just some weird fantasy brought on by Lisa’s taunt about it not being your husband. You don’t really think you could make me look like a woman.”
“Well, maybe not a hot, sexy woman, but a woman. I know plenty of women who look more masculine than you do without you trying to look feminine.”
“Well that’s true enough. I’ve seen plenty of butch women, but I don’t think that I’m that fine featured. Those butch women still look like women because that’s what they are and no matter how you dress me, I’ll still look like a man, because that’s what I am.”
“What? You mean that you’ve never seen someone and couldn’t be sure whether it was a man or a woman, until you took a good look and considered all their features?”
“Well, OK, I guess I’ve seen a few of them. … Wait a minute! You’re not saying I’m like that? I definitely look male.”
“Well sure… now. But, if we were to blur the edges, we could make you look feminine enough to make people unsure and if they’re unsure, it won’t take too much to make them accept on face value what you’re presenting.”
“Whoa, wait just a minute. You’re not thinking of dressing me up as a woman and taking me out in public, are you?”
“Well, not really, at least not until you’re comfortable with it. That will probably take a while… but maybe I’d tell Lisa that I still think it’s cool… that is if I still do.”
“You know you’re crazy, don’t you?” I told her as I leaned in and kissed her. When I broke the kiss, she leaned back and nodded her head. “Now tell me. Is this just something you want to do to prove Lisa wrong or is this some deep-rooted thing coming out of your past because that TV show fascinated you so much?”
She looked thoughtful and said, “Mostly it’s to convince Lisa that I meant what I said. But I guess if I was honest, part of it’s because I was taken by that show and, though it’s not been an intense desire, I’ve always wanted to see and experience a cross-dresser in real life. Mind you, I hadn’t thought of that show since high school, until Lisa told me about Mike”
“We could always call Mike and invite him to introduce us to Michelle.”
“I guess that would satisfy the experience it ‘in real life’ part, it wouldn’t do anything toward proving to Lisa that it doesn’t make any difference if it’s my husband.”
“I’m not going to get out of this, am I?” She shook her head no. “So, OK, what do I do? Go in and find one of your dresses I can squeeze into and then call Lisa to come over or what?”
“No, I don’t think dressing you up and showing Lisa would prove anything. One time does not a cross-dresser make. I guess you’d need to change your lifestyle a bit.”
I could feel the dread building in me and I knew I should put a stop to this crazy idea. Then again, I’ve never been able to dissuade her when she gets some wild idea of what we should do in her head. I usually just end up going along. If I don’t, I have to put up with a pouty wife until I can come up with some really great thing to do that gets her mind off of whatever she’s dreamed up. Of course, if she really gets enamored with an idea it’ll just come back later in some disguised form.
‘OK, what the hell,’I thought. ‘It’s just clothes. No big deal, right?’
“So exactly how do I change my lifestyle? I mean just what’s involved?”
“Well, I guess you’d have to get used to wearing some different things on a regular or at least a semi-regular basis.” She was hedging. That couldn’t be good.
“I’ll have to do some research. I’ll get back to you on it. You’re not going to renege now are you? You’ve committed to do this haven’t you?”
“Maybe I should be committed, but yes, I’m committed. You wouldn’t let me change my mind now. Just don’t keep me in suspense too long, OK?”
“Promise.”
She busied herself in the kitchen getting dinner ready while I went to the computer to check my email. She served up liver and onions with fried potatoes and whole kernel corn; pretty nearly my favorite meal. If she’d topped it off with German chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream I’d have thought I’d died and gone to heaven. I know she didn’t plan that dinner, it was Friday night after all and the object of her taking the day off was to do all the Thanksgiving prep. So I’m pretty sure it was a reward for my agreeing to go along with her cross-dressing scheme.
After dinner I plopped myself in front of the TV. Next Thursday would be all about the bowl games and Friday would be the civil war. Tonight I’d just look for a movie. Something with action in it and not some sappy countdown to Christmas special. There wasn’t much to choose from, but TNT came through with a John Wayne movie,
It was Carrie’s turn to glue herself to the computer. Carrie waited until I paused the movie and stood to head for the kitchen and another cup of coffee. “Hold up a minute,” she said, tape measure in hand. She measured my chest, twice, my waist and then my butt and nodded. “Thought so,” she concluded and smiled at me. “Thanks,” was followed by a quick peck and off she went. She disappeared for a moment and then breezed in wearing her jacket. “I’ll be right back. I’ve got just enough time to get to the stores before they close,” she said and was gone before I could ask why she needed to go to the mall in the first place.
I was surfing the channels on TV when Carrie popped her head back in and asked, “Done with your movie?” I nodded my head and she came over and gave me a quick kiss. She was in a very good mood.
“OK, what’s with this?” I asked Carrie as I leaned into the bathroom, holding up a pair of panties I’d found in my dresser drawer. It was one of about a dozen in various pastel colors.
“Well, I think you need to ease in to the cross-dresser thing slowly. You can start by wearing panties on the weekends,” she smiled.
“Panties on the weekends?”
“Well, yeah. That’s where most cross-dressers start, with panties or lingerie of some sort. I just can’t see you wearing a slip just yet. I think you can get away with under-dressing, even at work, once you get used to them. Though after you get to liking the panties, you could start wearing camisoles instead of your wife beater under shirts.”
‘Liking the panties?’ I thought. ‘Yeah, sure.’
“Don’t you think, what, a dozen pairs are a bit much?”
“Oh no, that’s bare minimum for a woman and many cross-dressers have lots more than that. A dozen is just a good starting point. Once you get into it, you’ll probably have a dozen each in three or four different styles.”
“I’m going along with this, but just so you know, it’s only until we get Lisa to give Mike a little slack, OK.”
So I got dressed putting on the plain white pair that could almost pass a men’s underwear, except that the waistband was too thin and there was no Y-front opening. And then there was that little bow in the middle of the front. That bow was the only thing that made it easy to tell front from back. Oh yeah, thin nylon…soft, silky nylon.
I’d never worn anything like them. I never had on anything made of nylon before. Their feel was absolutely sensuous. I noticed my heart rate pick up and my breathing got a little shallow as well. I took several minutes to regain my composure and finish dressing. I can never remember being aware of my underwear before that day, but I was aware of the panties all day long. Every time I sat, stood, bent, twisted or just about any move I made, the panties let me know they were there. I’ve got to tell you it was really distracting.
Chapter2
New sensations
“You're wearing your panties?” Carrie wanted to know over breakfast.
“Ah… yeah.”
“So what do you think?”
“They’re different.”
“You like them?”
“It’s too early to tell. I’m still getting used to the different fabric and the fit.”
“They should fit you fine. I measured your hips and waist. I bought them to fit your hips, because the waist is forgiving. It has to be because women retain water during their time of the month.”
“Well, yeah, they fit fine, but they don’t fit like men’s underwear.” She looked at me like she was waiting for me to expand on that statement. “Men’s underwear doesn’t ride as high on the hip and there’s a bit more room up front for the equipment, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I could have bought you hip huggers, but I wanted to start you out on full briefs, as that’s what most cross-dressers started on. I’ll be glad to get you some others, if you don’t like these, only underwear can’t be exchanged, so you’ll get a head start on your panty collection.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’ll get used to these. It’s not as if they’re uncomfortable, or anything. They’re just different than I’m used to.”
She smiled a wicked smile and asked, “Did it turn you on a little to put them on?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. Yeah, I felt a little stirring down there, and the heart rate-breath thing I mentioned earlier, but I didn’t want her to think I was some kind of pervert who got off on wearing panties.
“Well, it’s not exactly a turn on, but it is a bit exciting… you know the forbidden fruit thing.”
Her smile got bigger. “So you do like it.” I blushed and she stood and came over to hug me. “It’s OK to like it. If you didn’t like it at least a little bit, I’m not sure the experiment would really give valid results.”
“I’m not sure that I’m really comfortable with liking cross-dressing.”
“Oh that’s just your macho upbringing. You’re afraid that it detracts from your masculinity. Trust me it doesn’t. There’s something masculine about every woman and something feminine about every man. I haven’t noticed your feminine thing yet. Maybe it’s clothes and you’ve never had the opportunity to discover it. But now you have. Give it a week or so and then we’ll step it up a bit.”
“Step it up?”
“Yeah, you know add the camis to your wardrobe.”
“You don’t expect me to wear the panties every day, do you?”
“Not to start with, but wear them as much as you can bring yourself to. I’m betting after you get used to them, you’ll feel funny when you’re not wearing them. You know, I got you a nightgown as well. Wait until you sleep in that. The way you seem to like the feel of mine, I’m sure you’ll love yours. I’m betting that regardless of what else happens, you’ll never go back to PJs again.”
Well that night I did find out what it was like to sleep in a nightgown. The nightgown was every bit as luxurious and silky feeling as the panties. It was made of a satin finish nylon in a pastel green. The neckline was square cut with lace and ruffles the sleeves were extremely short, cap sleeves, they almost stood straight out from the shoulders. The hemline hit me a little lower than mid-calf.
At Carrie’s insistence, I kept the panties on. Looking back, I somehow think that Carrie was conditioning me, because she was pretty amorous over the weekend. Two days and three nights of that and I have to admit that changing back to tighty-whities Monday morning was a bit of a come down.
Monday night when I got ready for bed, I looked for my PJs and found my nightgown hanging from the hook behind the closet door. My nightgown somehow I never thought I’d ever think about a nightgown like that. ‘Oh well it was pretty nice over the weekend, so why not?’
When I crawled in to bed, Carrie snuggled up and immediately noticed. “You’re not wearing panties. Don’t you remember, I told you that you should wear them with your nightgown?”
“Well yeah, but when I wear PJs, I don’t wear underwear.”
“That’s typical male thinking. Think like a cross-dresser. It’s all about the clothes. A cross-dresser wears whatever they can whenever they can. Put your panties on. You liked the feel of the combination over the weekend, so why not continue? You have enough panties that you can wear them every day. I made sure of that.”
I don’t remember that I said anything about liking the combo but I couldn’t deny that I did like it, so I got back out of bed and put on a pair of panties. I wasn’t sure just how amorous Carrie was going to be but she did have a point, with the two of us encased in sensuous nylon was a great feeling. Even if she just snuggled up close for a time that was encouragement enough for me to sign on to the idea. Let’s just say she gave me plenty of reason to enjoy the feeling.
That set the pattern. I simply put a pair of panties on when I got ready for bed. It didn’t take long for me to do it without thinking about it. It’s just what I do to get ready for bed. Take off my clothes, put on the panties and nightgown, drain the bladder, brush my teeth and climb in bed to a loving wife who was always grinning.
I have to admit that changing back to tighty-whities to go to work, seemed a bit silly, I mean, I was putting two pairs of underwear in the hamper every day. But come Thanksgiving that changed. No tighty-whities.
Well, I wore panties all four days of the long Thanksgiving weekend, day and night. Even over to her mother’s on Thanksgiving. I was a bit nervous. I was sure that somehow I’d be outed and have to explain to my mother-in-law why I was wearing panties, but the day went off without a hitch.
To my surprise, it did feel a bit strange when I first put on my jockey shorts on Monday. After wearing panties over the Thanksgiving weekend, I’ve got to admit that I was looking forward to it the next Friday just a little bit. I expected Carrie to make a big deal out of my wearing panties, or at least to ask me about them again, but she didn’t. It was like I was on my own. Here I was in panties for the third weekend in a row and she’s ignoring it. I’m sure that she was aware of it, at least after the fact when she did the wash on Saturdays when seven pairs of panties and five tighty-whities showed up in the hamper.
And of course every day I was reminded of the weekend when I got into my underwear drawer. Come the next Saturday I acquiesced and wore panties only over the weekend.
Carrie didn’t push me about the cross-dressing thing, but it was on my mind every waking hour and I’m sure in my dreams. On Friday night I had have more information.
“So just how do we progress with this cross-dressing thing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m sure that Lisa won’t be impressed with me wearing panties. To make the point, I’m going to have to wear more than underwear.”
“True. I’m thinking that we’ll pick up some outer clothes for you and some things that are women’s clothes that don’t necessarily look like women’s clothes. You know that there’s really only small differences in women’s and men’s jeans. There are other things as well.
Let me tell you about Saturday. That was the day that Carrie was in the bedroom when I got dressed. Just after I put on the panties I’d chosen for the day, she interrupted my routine.
“Let’s get a little adventurous.”
“How so?”
“As you observed, Lisa’s not going to be impressed with underdressing. So, I was thinking that maybe you could try on a few of my looser fitting things to get the idea of what it’s really like to cross-dress.”
I studied her for a moment. I could tell this was another time when I’d just as well acquiesce.
“OK, just what do you think I should wear?”
“Let’s try a top.”
She opened her closet and got out a blouse. It was certainly loose enough. I went to put it on, but Carrie stopped me.
“To look good, that top needs something.”
“What?”
She tapped my chest and said, “A bustline.”
“Well, as you can see I’ve got nothing to offer in that department.”
“Let’s see what we can do about that.”
She laid the top on the bed and dug through her drawers. After some time, she came up with a strapless bra and after some more digging in a smaller drawer, she came up with a small thing that looked like it fell off of a bra… like bra hooks on a piece of elastic. She clipped that to the bra and wrapped them around my chest. Then from my sock drawer, she got three pairs of wool socks that I used to wear when I went hunting. Using three socks in each side, she stuffed the bra.
“We’ll have to get you something better. This is pretty crude, but according to my web search a lot of cross-dressers use this kind of thing; at least to start.”
She helped me on with the top. Then she got out a pair of loose white pants that I always thought were just a little baggy on her, but, being a wise husband, I’d never said it to her. I put those on.
She studied me for a bit and said, “I think we can do better than that.”
Next came a yellow tunic that struck me just below the butt and she paired that with a pair of black pull up loose leg capris.
“That’s better,” she said and handed me a pair of knee-highs.
I took the hint and pulled them on, calling on the many times I’d seen Carrie do that to know how to manage the fragile material. When I pulled the last one up, she dropped my Crocs in front of me.
“Your Crocs will have to do. They’re not exactly winter shoes, but you’re not going outside. I’ll have to see about getting you some shoes to go along with your new lifestyle.”
‘My new lifestyle? Like this is going to persist. I’m going to have to find a way to tone down the money she’s thinking of spending.’ I had a feeling that if I let her run unchecked that we’d have to budget for three wardrobes rather than two.
I stood and looked at myself in her full-length mirror. Aside from my hair, which was already a little longer than I usually wore it, I did look a bit feminine; certainly not masculine.
“So, what do you think now? Don’t you think with some make up you could pass for a woman, at least from a distance?”
“My hair’s a bit short.”
“A little time and that will grow out. What do you think of the clothes?”
“Aside from the pants being a little high water and the top a bit on the long side they’re not really that much different than what I normally wear.”
“Let’s push the envelope a bit more.”
She went back to the closet and came back with what I took to be a long skirt.
“I don’t think I’m ready for a skirt, just yet.”
“It’s not a skirt, silly.” She held them in front of her and kicked out her leg and the skirt separated in two. “They’re palazzo pants. They’re more for summer, but they are delicious to wear. Cross-dressers don’t really care too much about the season clothes are meant for, at least until they start going out. And, they’ll go better with your sandals. Try them on.”
OK, so off came the black capris. The fabric of these new pants was indeed delicious. It was soft and silky and, while I couldn’t tell her, I loved the feel of them on.
“What do you think? Nice huh?”
“Yeah, kind of nice.”
“Why don’t you keep that outfit on?”
I couldn’t do that. The feeling from the pants were about to overwhelm me.
“The bra’s a bit tight. It kind of pinches.”
“It’s the most forgiving bra I have. It’s a bit stretched out; so much so that I can’t wear it any more. It tends to sag on me. We’ll have to see about getting something that really fits you.”
If I ignored my head, I didn’t look bad. Not the kind of thing that would catch a guy’s eye, but not exactly flat chested either.
I quickly changed back to what I was going to wear; jeans and a tee-shirt, but kept my Crocs on. Carrie called me a spoilsport in a good-natured way. I told her I needed to do a quick tune up on my car. I’ve always done my own mechanic work and with modern cars, it was super easy compared with what I learned from my dad. I just needed to replace the sparkplugs and ignition wires. I rotated the tires while I was in the garage. Carrie did allow that she was glad that I wasn’t wearing her clothes when I was working on the car when she left for some unplanned shopping trip.
To be continued…
By Patricia Marie Allen
Chapter 3
Blurring the edges
Sunday morning, I usually fix a nice breakfast for us, so I just slipped on a robe and whipped up some microwave omelets for us. Carrie hadn’t bothered to get dressed either and we kind of kicked back in the family room to watch a little TV. Carrie picked a romantic comedy to watch as we sipped our after-breakfast coffee. I did notice that she kept looking at me and I could tell the wheels were turning.
Once the movie was over, she stood and announced, “Let’s get dressed.”
I followed her into the bedroom. After I’d changed my panties, she intervened. “You don’t have any work to do today, do you?”
“No, I’m just planning on hanging around the house today.”
“Good, I want to take another shot at seeing just how feminine I can get you.” With that, she produced another bra that I’m sure was new because she doesn’t wear underwire bras, and had me in it before I knew what was happening. Then she pulled a plastic box out of her drawer and stuck some cold silicone things in the cups. Even after she tightened the straps, the cups weren’t as full as you’d expect.
“Not exactly what that bra needs, but we’ll try that for a while before we spring for something more in line with where a woman your size would be,” Carrie observed. “Let’s see if we can do something with your hair.”
With my robe back on, she led me to the bathroom where she got out a spray bottle and wet down my hair. After brushing it out, she attacked it with a curling iron, followed by some brushing and teasing, finally spraying it down with a cloud of hairspray.
“It’d be better if it was longer, but for now that’ll do. If you really keep this up on a regular basis, you’ll need to let it grow a bit or invest in a wig.” She eyed me a bit more and said, “I think I want to see just how much I can blur your masculine features.” She felt my chin. “Get a really close shave for me and I’ll be right back.”
I usually use a Norelco cordless razor, but given the close shave command. I broke out the blade that I keep for backup when we go camping, in case the Norelco battery goes dead. When I finished shaving Carrie spread some green goop on my face with instructions to let it dry.
While we waited she eyed my legs below the hem of my robe and glancing back to the razor on the counter making me uncomfortable as I tried not to think about what she was thinking. Seeing the look on my face she said, “You know of course when we get you into nylons, we’ll be shaving your legs.”
“My pits too, I suppose?”
“Oh most definitely,” she grinned.
She put me back into the black loose capris and a blouse while we were waiting.
It wasn’t long before the junk on my face dried and Carrie began pealing it off. When she was done, my face felt a bit tender and appeared just a touch on the pink side in the mirror. She then got out some moisturizer and rubbed it into my face, taking a tissue to blot up the excess. She then started spreading junk all over my face. She’d get some stuff on her fingers and daub it on me; on my forehead, each cheek, my nose and my chin. She even put a couple of spots just under my chin. She followed that up by spreading it around with a sponge.
This was followed with a generous dusting of some powder, which she immediately brushed off. I didn’t quite understand the purpose of putting the powder on and then removing it??? Some kind of woman thing, I guess. She made me close my eyes as she outlined them with a tiny black brush. Then the tricky part… mascara. She warned me not to move suddenly, or I might end up with the wand in my eye. My lashes seemed to put on weight. I’ve never really been aware of my lashes before, except when one got bent back in my eye, but now, I could feel the weight of them when I blinked, as I did a lot just after she got through.
This was followed by eye shadow. Not a simple process. Apparently, it takes three shades that have to be blended to get that sultry look that women seem to think they need. A touch of blush on my cheeks and lipstick. Again, lipstick seems to be a two-step process. She outlined my lips with some kind of colored pencil, one darker than the lipstick she’d picked, and then painted the lipstick on with a little brush. Don’t they just twirl it up out of the tube and apply it directly? What do I know, I’m a man. A thought I’d question shortly thereafter.
She messed with my hair a bit more and led me to our bedroom, produced a pair of wedge sandals I’d never seen before, in my size no less. The heel was only about an inch and a half. The cowboy boots I’d worn when I worked at Camp Baldwin as a wrangler when I was in high school were taller than that, so I didn’t have any trouble walking in them.
When she closed the closet door so I could see myself in the full-length mirror I indeed questioned that thought. The woman in the mirror was a bit skinny in the hips, thick in the middle and would have looked a little bit better with a longer hairstyle (I’ve never been fond of women with short hair) but there was no doubt in my mind that it was a woman… except… it was my reflection. I took a quick step and sat down on the bed still focused on the reflection. ‘Blur’my masculine features, hell, she erased them. Oh God can that really be me? I looked around to see if there was some way I was seeing someone else in the mirror. There was no one there except me and Carrie.
“Well, what do you think?” Carrie asked.
“I think that can’t be me,” I replied touching my face, marveling that the reflection copied my move.
“Well girlfriend, we’ve wasted the morning making you beautiful. Let’s get some lunch. I’m starved. It’s a lot of work making a silk purse out of sow’s ear.”
With that, she led the way to the kitchen where she maneuvered me into heating some soup at the stove while she made sandwiches.
“Smile,” she said. I looked up and the camera went, “click.”
“You didn’t smile.”
“You took a picture.”
“Well yes. I want a record of the first time you really went all out.”
“I didn’t exactly go ‘all out.’ This is all your work.”
“Semantics. This is the first time you actually are fully cross-dressed to the point that you could pass. I wanted a picture to remember it by. It’d be better if you smiled like you were enjoying it.”
“Who are you going to show that picture too?”
“Well, possibly Lisa, if we can get that far of course if I show it to her, I’ll likely show it to Mike as well. Now come on smile so I can get the one that looks nice.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. If she’s planning something dastardly she’s already got one picture, what’s another? I took a deep breath, turned and put on my best photogenic smile. “Click” went the camera and Carrie’s smile was more genuine than my own.
That wasn’t nearly enough for Carrie. She had me all around the house posing, looking like she’d caught me in candid shots doing ordinary things. It’s not that I never did the laundry, or vacuumed, but not usually on Sunday. I helped around the house but, if she was around, those two things were normally Carrie’s domain. I mean, she worked part time, not because we really needed the money, but because she wanted to, and had more time for such things than I did. OK, truth is, I don’t fold the laundry to suit her nor am I thorough enough when I vacuum. She always feels like she has to do touch up when she gets home. I did do more cooking, so that first picture wasn’t really out of line. She also got real candid photos of me doing more typical things. I watched the game and she caught me with the remote pointed at the TV. She also managed a picture of me at the computer checking my email.
Strangely enough, by dinner time I’d gotten used to the clothing. Long before that day it’d become common place to feel the panties. While I was aware of the panties, they were no longer a distraction and the wedge sandals only took an hour or so before I ignored them. It was the bra that was most distracting. Although, there were times through the day that I failed to notice it, but it seemed that if I moved my shoulder or my arms, I was immediately aware of it again.
Chapter 4
Santa Claus is coming to town
The following Monday I had an odd thought as I was getting dressed. As I was about to change my panties I thought, I wonder if I could get away with wearing them under my work clothes. In answer to that, I tried it. I had on a pastel yellow pair with some lace on the side. I was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. But to my knowledge, no one noticed. I was on a kind of adrenaline high all day; absolutely euphoric by the time I got home. Carrie noticed.
“What’s with you?” she asked. “You seem all… I don’t know, excited doesn’t seem right, but it’s something that got you keyed up a bit.”
I was torn. I wanted to deny everything, but I never was a good liar, not even as a kid, so I just ’fessed up. But I wanted to down play it a bit. “I decided that in keeping with your experiment, I should try the under-dressing thing you talked about. As a result, I’ve been on edge all day. I was scared to death that something would happen and someone would notice.”
“And did they?”
“No.”
She smiled. “…And you’ve been excited all day over it?”
“Excited? I… I… … I was just nervous… I’m just relieved to have gotten away with it without anyone noticing.”
“When you were at work was it an objectionable feeling or did you kind of enjoy it?”
She had me there. I’d decide about lunch time that it was kind of cool to have a secret like that. I mean I kept wondering, what would so and so think if he, or she, knew what kind of underwear I had on.
I looked down. “I kind of enjoyed it after I became convinced that no one was going to catch on.”
“So? You gonna do it again?”
I shrugged. “I… I don’t know. I’ll see in the morning.”
Well, I decided not to push it and went to the office in my regular underwear the next day. It was a bit of a downer, but I could concentrate easier. However, in the slack times, I kind of missed the thrill of the secret. Carrie was inquisitive when I got home.
“Well?”
“What?”
“Did you do it again?”
“No, I decided against it.”
“OK, just wondering. … You know, most cross-dressers start out only doing it at home and take a while to do the under-dressing thing full-time. You could change into your panties when you come home. The only thing missing for you is you don’t have to sneak around to do it, like Mike. It would make sense considering you’ll be putting them on when you go to bed anyway.”
I took that as a hint and went straight to our bedroom and changed my underwear while I changed into some casual clothes. That became the norm for that week. Of course over the weekend, I wore the panties day and night.
Saturday morning, I was getting dressed when Carrie interrupted. “Wear something nice. I want to take you out for a while today.”
That put me on high alert. “Just what would I wear that was ‘nice’?”
She went to my closet and came back with a lightweight pullover sweater with a V neck and handed it to me along with a black, turtle neck dickey. I didn’t own a dickey and I recognized it as one that Carrie wore on occasion. This was obviously a first go at wearing some women’s clothes out of the house. I hesitated while she went back to closet and began rummaging through it. At least she was looking on my side.
Finally, I decided to put it on and see if I could tolerate the combo. Once I had it on, I looked in the mirror over Carrie’s dresser. I ignored the fact that I was wearing nothing but panties below the waist and concentrated on the sweater and dickey. It wasn’t my usual kind of fashion, but I had to allow that I’d seen men wearing a turtle neck tee-shirt under sweaters, so I decided to go along with it. I wasn’t too sure just where she wanted to go “out” - but I supposed it couldn’t be too bad.
As I was looking at myself, she came over with a pair of cotton/polyester blend slacks that I didn’t wear much since the summer I bought them. They were a kind of throwback to the leisure suit era. I pulled them on and stepped to the full-length mirror on the closet door.
Yeah. The outfit screamed androgynous. It made me a little uneasy, but I couldn’t articulate just why. Maybe it was because I knew that the dickey was Carrie’s. Anyway, she upped the ante when she handed me some black socks. Not just any socks, but a pair of her trouser socks. Biting my tongue I put them on and slipped into my loafers. I did a quick mental calculation. I was wearing fifty percent women’s clothes. That meant I was half cross-dressed and she had plans to take me out in public.
Well, at least everything of hers was not outerwear and someone would have to be studying me pretty intently to notice, I thought. It turns out she just wanted to do some window shopping at the mall. I was nervous as hell the whole time. I could just see her hauling me into a store to try on something.
When I asked why we were at the mall, she said, “Cross-dressers often just go to malls and walk around when they’re all dressed up. Of course, that usually means a dress, but you’re not ready for that. I know that the pants are men’s, but I didn’t have any that would look right, except shorts and it’s the wrong season for you to be wearing shorts.
On Monday I seriously considered panties, but in the end, I opted for jockey shorts.
By the next weekend, if I could be honest with myself, I’d have to admit that the panty wearing was growing on me. I came to enjoy the soft slightly supportive fit of them. When I thought about it, how my tighty-whities felt restrictive and rough; how I felt just off when I was wearing them, it scared me a little. I mean, I’ve worn jockey shorts all my life since I was potty trained. Now a few weeks, part time, in women’s briefs and I actually looked forward to being able to wear them. And yes, I did more underdressing than not at work. I really was trying not to do it. After all, this is a temporary thing; just until Lisa lightened up. I vowed I’d go back to just wearing them when Carrie wanted me to; weekends and evenings.
Christmas fell on a Friday, so I had Thursday, Christmas Eve off as well. By Wednesday I was getting impatient for the weekend and wore panties to work again. I found it easier to ignore the panties and the fear that I’d get outed. I still got a bit of a thrill about having the secret and I found myself looking at the women in the office a little differently. Instead of the typical enjoyment of considering what parts of the body were their best features, I was taken with the fact that we shared something in common… i.e. underwear. I found myself wondering if any of them were wearing the style, or color I was.
As I got dressed Christmas Eve there was a small feeling of elation. I’d have four days straight to wear panties with no worries as to who might notice. As I got dressed, I picked out the most feminine pair there was. They were a pale purple with a slash of lace running from the middle of my belly to the leg band on my right hip and on the left, was an embroidered rose in high relief.
Christmas day found Carrie and I still in our nightgowns opening presents. (Did I mention that I started wearing the nightgown the same weekend that I first wore panties? When I went to panties in the evening, I wore the nightgown every night.) I got Carrie some nice jewelery, a cashmere sweater and a $50 dollar gift card from Barnes and Noble so she could load up her Nook with books. When she handed me my presents, there were two shoe box size gifts and an obvious shirt box. I opened one of the shoe boxes first. Inside was a pair of loafers. They were cordovan, one of my preferred colors. They seemed a bit lighter than the shoes I usually buy.
“Thanks, they’re very nice, but I’m not due a new pair of shoes for a while.”
“As I remember, I promised to get you some shoes that no one would notice were women’s.”
I gave her a wide eyed look. I looked at the shoes again with a critical eye. The vamp was a bit shorter than usual and the sides weren’t as wide, or is that as tall, as usual, but other than that, they looked pretty much like men’s. I checked the size and sure enough, size 12W.
“You really think that no one will notice? Now that I look at them, they do look like women’s flats.”
“They also look like what is known as Italian loafers; very continental.” I raised my eyebrows. “Be honest, when you first looked at them, you thought they were men’s shoes, didn’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but I was expecting them to be men’s shoes and didn’t look all that closely.”
“What kind of shoes did your boss wear on Wednesday?”
“I don’t know. I don’t pay any attention to his shoes.”
“Exactly. When you’re wearing them everyone will expect them to be men’s shoes. What’s more, they won’t really be paying attention to your shoes.”
I shrugged in aquesence and opened the second shoe box. Of course they were shoes again. But these were light tan with a narrow almost pointy toe and an inch and a half bock heel and a sling back strap.
“Well these are women’s. I can’t wear them without anyone noticing.”
“No, but you can when you’re around the house dressing femme like you were when I loaned you my pants.”
The third box was a dress. Not just any dress but a rather fancy cocktail dress. My heart stopped; well at least shuddered. It was a gorgous teal and shinny. I sat looking at it with my mouth open.
“I think that will be a good color on you.”
“Why did you get me a dress?”
“Well I talked to Lisa about New Year’s Eve. It was supposed to be our year to host. She told me that she and Mike would be staying home. I guess the waters are still a bit troubled over there. So I thought since it would be just you and me, we could dress up.”
Sunday, Carrie gave me a new pair of jeans and a pullover sweater.
“Here,” she said, “put these on. We need to do some shopping.”
“What’s with the new clothes? I’ve got plenty of jeans already and I’ve been shopping plenty of times in my flannel shirts.”
“Humor me. You’ll figure it out soon enough.”
After I was dressed, she hustled me out the door.
“What about breakfast?” I wanted to know as we climbed into her car.
“We’ll grab some coffee at Dutch Brothers and get something when we get to the mall.”
That meant The Cheese Cake Factory. Who knew they did breakfast? I was a tad bit nervous. I’d never been anywhere when I wasn’t in full male mode and in charge of the situation, well except for that trip to the mall, but we didn’t actually go in anywhere. Oh and I was convinced that the jeans I had on were women’s. There were subtle differeces. The fly was shorter and the pockets smaller, though the fly wasn’t on the distaff side.
Not wanting to call attention to myself, lest anyone examine my clothes too closely, I let Carrie do the talking. The hostess found us a nice table for two, it could have been for four, but it was set for two. Normally, for breakfast I’d have ordered a big omelet, or maybe the breakfast burrito, but that day I settled for two eggs, over easy with toast and potatoes. Carrie on the other hand did have an omelet.
Turns out that shopping doesn’t necessarily mean buying. At first, it was more like mall walking like we did last time. They advise seniors to do that for exercise. Window shopping, Carrie called it. We did go into a couple of stores, but mostly just browsed the racks in the women’s department. There I was pretty aprehensive. I was praying Carrie wasn’t thinking of having me try anything on, especially since she was looking at dresses.
I was worried for nothing. We didn’t even talk to a salesclerk. Back out in the mall, we wandered down the concourse and into another store that seemed to specialize in casual wear, albeit women’s casual wear. There were a lot of trousers and jeans. A selection of pullover shirts, or I suppose tops. It seems women don’t wear many shirts, only blouses and tops, or maybe sweaters but they can all be called tops. Carrie was really interested in the slacks, only the ones she was looking at, I knew would never fit over her curves. The styles didn’t seem to me to be the kind of thing she’d really wear. Just a little too androgynous, or perhaps butch. She was a girlie girl after all.
We wandered around a bit more. A little later, we stopped for an Orange Julius and sat at a small table as shoppers walked past in both directions. As aprehensive as I had been about this little adventure, I was pretty calm at this point. No one, and I mean no one seemed to notice or care what I was wearing. In fact they seemed to look right past me.
Sometime after one, Carrie said we should probably head out and get some lunch on the way home.
By Patricia Marie Allen
Chapter 5
Happy New Year
As I got dressed on Monday, after four days straight of wearing panties, I almost automatically put on panties. When I realized what I was doing, I thought, ‘I’ve lost it, totally lost it. I’m choosing to wear panties because I want to, not because Carrie wants to know if she’d still think it’s cool when her husband’s a cross-dresser. I hope she does, because if she doesn’t, I don’t know if I’ll ever really be able to go back to wearing jockey’s full time again.’ It had only taken a couple of weeks to get me hooked on panties and sleeping in a nightgown. ‘God help me, I’m a cross-dresser. How long ’til I’m prancing around in dresses? ... Oh yeah, New Year’s Eve.’
That thought sobered me and I changed back to my tighty-whities. It unnerved me to think that I was getting into this cross-dressing thing. I really needed to assert my masculinity before I lost that part of me. It was bad enough that I’d succumbed to sleeping in a nightgown. I wondered if Carrie was right; could I ever go back to flannel pajamas? But then the thought of just how good it felt snuggling up to Carrie in her nightgown jumped into my mind. ‘OK,’I allowed,‘I’ll give her that, but today I’m going manly.’
I fished out one of my wife beater undershirts and quickly dressed for work. I went totally men’s clothes from the skin out. By lunch time I was regretting my decision. After four days of wearing soft women’s clothing, everything I had on seemed rough and scratchy. That was ridiculous. The clothes I had on were the same kind of thing I’d been wearing before and it was never rough or scratchy.
Tuesday, I opted for panties. ‘God help me, I prefer women’s underwear to men’s.’
As I mentioned before, normally, we’d spend New Year’s Eve with Lisa and Mike, and the visiting couple would spend the night to avoid all the drunks on the highway. It was our turn to host, but when Carrie called Lisa to coordinate the refreshments, she was informed that they would be staying home for New Year’s Eve.
“Too bad, I was hoping we’d have a chance to let them see you completely cross-dressed. I kind of get a kick out of people not realizing you’re cross-dressed. Especially Lisa.
“Oh well, we can throw caution to the wind and you’ll have a chance to wear your heels and the dress I got you for Christmas.”
Nothing would do but that I totally cross-dressed starting with Thursday, which included the bra all stuffed out, all four days of the weekend. That bra really needed some help. Even with all my pecs pulled up and the straps as tight as possible it just didn’t quite look right.
Thursday morning, I was told that I really needed a good, close shave each day over the weekend. I’ve got to tell you, standing in front of the bathroom mirror in a nightgown watching a woman shaving her face presented a totally incongruent picture. Carrie was in the bedroom when I came back in.
“What would you like to wear today?” she asked.
“I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“How about one of my blouses and Capri pants or a skirt?”
“I don’t think I’m ready for a skirt.”
She laid out three blouses.
“Choose one,” she said and went back to the closet.
They were definitely from the feminine end of her wardrobe. One was pink, which I passed on immediately. I just couldn’t even consider pink. The second was a pastel yellow with three-quarter sleeves and an extra floppy collar. The third was white with a lace-trimmed collar and long flowing sleeves that had elastic at the cuffs which were lace trimmed. I’m not sure why, but I chose the white one. Based on color alone, I guess it was the least feminine.
Carrie came back with her white capris. She looked down at my legs. “You know, you’re going to have to shave your legs. You don’t have much, but you’ll want to wear knee highs and what you do have will be very visible.”
“But who’s going to see them? Just you and I, so no harm no foul.”
“I’ll let you get away with it today, but when we dress up for New Year’s Eve, you definitely want to have hairless legs.”
I let that part slide. I put on clean panties and pulled the carpi pants on before taking off the nightgown. I’m not sure why, but it seemed a bit unnerving to strip down and change panties while my wife was watching.
Carrie then supervised me putting on the bra and putting in the filling. She did a much better job of shaping them than I did. On went the white blouse and capris. I wore my Christmas sandals.
“There,” she said, “fully cross-dressed. Shall we see what we can do with your hair and some makeup?”
“You never wear makeup around the house.”
“That’s true, but I’m not trying to look like a genetic woman. I am one. Cross-dressers on the other hand really want to look the part.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“OK, let’s compromise. Less is more. Lipstick and mascara and you put them on yourself.”
So I found myself, mascara wand in hand, learning the fine art of darkening the eyelashes without poking my eye out. It only took me three tries to get it on the lashes and not all over the eyelid and I only poked myself in the eye once. Compared to that, lipstick was a breeze. I did have to negotiate with Carrie about the shade I put on. Somehow she had the idea that all cross-dressers would want dark red lipstick. I on the other hand would have happily gone without.
I spent the morning taking in the feeling of it all. The top was a polyester blend and much lighter, that is, thinner than any of my shirts. Every time I looked in a mirror, I was taken with the fact I could see the outline of the bra. And the way my hair was tousled along with the mascara and lipstick… I doubted I could pass, but it was far from the androgynous look that I sported when we were last at the mall.
Each day saw me fully cross-dressed. Of course you know she got lots of pictures. Most of them were candid. After the second day, I’d pretty much come to the point of being able to ignore the clothes and just do whatever I’d otherwise be doing.
Then came New Year’s Eve. By then, Carrie had me picking out my own girlie outfit and just left me to it while she made breakfast for us. So I stood in my robe perusing her side of the closet. I thought about this evening when I’d be wearing that dress. I wasn’t really sure about how that would feel. It was bound to be a culture shock. I thought I’d try to mitigate that as much as possible. I picked out a lavender blouse with hidden buttons trimmed in lace. The hemline came down to just below my crotch. It had a thin belt that was supported with some thread belt loops. I didn’t pull it really tight, but just enough to make my waist look a little smaller. For pants, I picked out a slinky pair of black pullups. I put on some nude knee highs and those sandals from Christmas.
In the bathroom for the second time; I put on some lipstick and mascara. I did much better this time. I got adventurous with the lipstick and tried the lipliner (I learned that’s what the colored pencil was called). I wasn’t really any good at doing my hair, so I just brushed it down over my ears and then fluffed it up with my fingers. Feminine? I don’t know.
When I went into the kitchen, Carrie was impressed with my efforts and gave me a light kiss. “Don’t want to muss your lipstick.”
We pretty much lounged around most of the day. Carrie got dinner a little early.
“Isn’t it a little early for dinner?”
“A little, but we’ve got to get ready for the evening. It’s a small party, just you and me, but I still want to make it festive. And remember, it takes women longer to get ready for dress-up events, and this year, we have two to get ready, and one of them,” she pointed at me, “doesn’t have a clue about how to do it, so it’ll take that much longer.”
Right after dinner, I found myself in the tub in a bubble bath; the first I’ve had since I was five years old. The bubble bath was scented with lavender. Carrie encouraged me to just lay back and relax. I have to admit that it did feel nice. I don’t remember the last time I actually had a bath. The water felt… I don’t know… slippery?
After a bit, Carrie came in decked out in some really fancy lingerie with a light robe over it. I was instructed to lift first one leg, then the other out of the tub as she shaved them to above the knees.
After the bath, I slipped on a robe and met Carrie in the bedroom. On the bed was some more fancy lingerie. It appeared to be a match for Carrie’s but in a different color and obviously in my size. There in the middle of it all was a package of sheer smokey black pantyhose, queen size. Carrie didn’t wear queen size. She had obviously been planning this for some time and had surreptitiously purchased the array.
On went the panties first. Then Carrie tutored me in the art of putting on pantyhose. There is quite an art to it. They don’t go on like socks or pants or even like knee highs. You have to coax them up each leg slowly. Once on, I was amazed at the feel. My freshly shaven legs were sensitive to the gentle caressing of the shear support fabric. The bra was new as well and matched the panties. Carry had made some falsies out of birdseed in knee highs to fill it out with. Then came the slip. I knew I was in deep trouble once it settled around my torso. The bubble bath really made my skin soft and the silky nylon of the slip slithered its way to just above my knees.
Carrie grinned as I looked down and smoothed my hands over the fabric. After a time, she took my hand and guided me back to the bathroom. Where she went to work on my hair, which I could see was getting way too long. Soon it was going to be a problem keeping it looking neat and tidy. Somehow, she managed to make it look really feminine. Then came that full makeup she’d done before. Soon the mirror showed that sister I never had.
Back in the bedroom, she helped me on with that dress and into some heels I’d never seen before; not the clunky heel, but not spikes either. But real honest-to-goodness high heels. She put on her own dress and had me zip it for her. Donning her heels, she anounced, “Time to party.” And we went to the living room.
The table was spread just as if we had company. Chips and homemade dip, little smokies in barbecue sauce and a bowl of home made eggnog. I got a few lessons in ladylike behavior. We sat on the couch and watched old-time movies in black and white. Feasted on the snacks and eggnog. Carrie introduced me to girl talk. We noted the style of dresses the women in the movie wore and compared them to modern movies. We discussed current fashions.
Come the witching hour, we tuned in to the Time Square ball drop, delayed for our timezone and counted down the New Year. She grabbed me and we kissed. Not the usual New Year’s kiss that we’d have done if Mike and Lisa were here. No, this one had some fire in it.
After some very vigorous bedtime activity, we slept in in the morning.
Chapter 6
Putting it to the test
A week from that Friday, Carrie and I had planned dinner out with Mike and Lisa that evening, and I hadn’t confirmed those plans. On the way home, I remembered and wondered if those plans were still on. And if they were, had Carrie said anything to Lisa about her experiment.
“Hi Hon,” I said as I came in. “Are we still on with Mike and Lisa tonight?”
“Yeah. She wanted to cancel, but I talked her into trying to maintain the normality in their marriage.”
“I was wondering if they were going to be OK. I haven’t had a chance to talk with Mike since this all started. Has she softened her stance on his cross-dressing?” I asked as we went to the bedroom to change.
“You haven’t had a chance to talk with him because he’s not allowed to be alone with any men. So, no, she made him promise to stop and even made him purge.”
“Purge?”
“That’s what CD’s call it when they throw out all their femme clothing. It’s usually an effort to ‘cure’ the cross-dressing thing. From what I’ve found out, it’s a waste of money. They always end up going back to it. I’ve tried to talk to Lisa about it, but she says until it’s my husband, I don’t have any room to talk.”
I noticed that she was putting on a cami that I’d not seen before and remembered that she said I’d be wearing camis next. She caught me looking.
“See something you like?” she smiled wickedly
“Sure do.”
“Me or my cami?”
“You in your cami.”
“Speaking of camis, I bought you some when I bought your panties. Wanna try them out? They really feel nice against your skin,” she said, rubbing the material against her stomach.
Somehow I was unable to speak. It was like all the saliva had been sucked out of my mouth. I mutely nodded. She smiled, walked to her closet and retrieved a shopping bag from a lingerie shop.
“I didn’t give them to you that first weekend, though I was tempted. I didn’t want to overload you at first. I think you’re ready now. You’ve already worn the panties under your work clothes, so this weekend you can add these.”
She dumped the bag on our bed.
“You didn’t tell Lisa about your experiment, did you?”
“No… I didn’t think you’d appreciate that. Besides, unless you really cross-dress because you like it, it wouldn’t mean much. Right now, you’re… we’re just experimenting with it.”
“Right now? Do you think I’m going to become a full-blown cross-dresser?” In truth, I was working real hard to convince myself that I was only experimenting with the cross-dressing.
“Well, so far, wouldn’t it be fair to say the experience has been pleasant?”
I didn’t know just how much I wanted to admit, so I tried to think of how to shade the truth without resorting to a lie. In the end, I had to allow it was. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Well then, people who do things that are pleasant tend to keep doing them.”
I was wearing pastel green panties, and I knew I had a green sport shirt that I could wear, so I picked up the matching cami. “I guess I’ll wear this one. I did the underdressing thing again today you know, just to keep with the spirit of your experiment, and I chose the green ones that match.”
Carrie grinned. “You just stick to that story. Don’t let anyone persuade you otherwise. But if you’re going to shower before we go out, you probably want to wear clean underwear… I know I did.”
“What story?”
“That you’re underdressing ‘just to keep with the spirit’ of my experiment. Just as you’re wearing them all weekend and changing into them in the evening was keeping with the spirit of my experiment. Underdressing was frosting on the cake and really wouldn’t have to come for maybe a year or more if you were the average cross-dresser. Most cross-dressers have been at it for years, even more than a decade or two by the time they reach your age. The only explanation for you underdressing without being prompted to would be that you got some kind of benefit out of it. That is the first time was ‘pleasant’ enough to repeat the act.” She had the most self-satisfied grin on her face as she explained her logic to me. “But put that all aside and stick to your story that it was ‘just to keep with the spirit’ of my experiment.”
I knew better than to pursue that… If it came to a debate, I was short of good logic to defend myself. I just shook my head and undressed to take the shower she mentioned.
When I came out of the shower, Carrie had laid out an outfit for me to wear. I wasn’t sure about it. Some of it was new things I’d never worn. The blue cami and panty set was to be expected, but there was a slightly darker blue shirt and light grey close-knit pullover sweater I’d never seen. The pants I recognized from some that she had looked at when I was with her. They looked a lot like my charcoal grey slacks. Also, there was a pair of black dress socks. Not that I don’t normally wear black dress socks, but these were a lighter weight than any I’d ever had before. She completed the outfit with my “Italian” loafers.
I figured that it was pointless to discuss what she’d laid out. I pulled on the panties. I was used to them enough that there wasn’t any kind of shock, though I still kind of liked the feel of them. When I slipped on the cami, I kind of felt a little naughty much like with the slip on New Year’s Eve. The feel of nylon draped across my naturally hairless chest was a thrill. ‘I can’t let Carrie know how great this feels,’I thought as I quickly donned the pants. I put the socks on and I was taken with how light they really were. Aside from the ribbed knit and opaque black color, they could have been women’s knee-highs. That was the first time I wore the “Italian” loafers and they felt good on my feet. Much lighter than my others and really comfortable.
I was good with it all until I put on the shirt. If possible, it felt more luxurious than the cami. It had the feel of silk. I took it off and checked the label. Sure enough. 100% silk, size 14. ‘What the hell kind of size is that? … Oh well, it feels great, especially over the cami.’
I slipped it back on and fumbled with the buttons. What the hell?
“Carrie,” I called out as I went in search of her.
“In the family room,” she called back.
“What’s with this?” I asked holding out the front of the shirt.
“They’re called ‘buttons’,” she told me as she walked up and took one in her hand and buttoned it. “They go into the button holes and keep the garment from gaping open.” She finished buttoning me up and grinned.
“I know they’re buttons but why are they on the wrong side?”
“They’re not on the wrong side. See? They’re the same as mine,” she said as she unbuttoned one of her buttons.
Suddenly I got it. I was wearing a blouse. “This isn’t a shirt, it’s a blouse!”
“Well, yes, cross-dressers often wear blouses.” She stroked my chest and rubbed the combined fabric of the cami and the blouse together against my skin. “Doesn’t it feel luscious?”
She had me there. It did feel great. “But a blouse… with the buttons on the wrong… other side. Isn’t that kind of noticeable? It’s not like the panties or the cami. They’re under other clothes.”
“The buttons will be ‘under other clothes’ when you put the sweater on.”
I went back and put the sweater on. I was doubtful that it would look alright, and was prepared to veto the whole idea. I stood before my wife’s full-length mirror and critically examined my look.
Personally, I thought the whole thing looked a bit femme.
“Ah, just the look I was going for,” Carrie said as she walked into the room.
“You don’t think it too femme?”
“Not femme, androgynous.”
“Androgynous?”
“Yeah, neither masculine nor feminine, but something in between. You see it as being on the femme side because you’re used to being definitely on the masculine side.”
“I’m not worried about how I see it; I’m worried about how others will see it.”
“I think it’s just enough to put questions in Lisa’s mind without shouting ‘Hey look, I’m cross-dressing’.”
I had that nervous thing going as Carrie and I walked into the restaurant to meet Mike and Lisa. The girls did the hug thing while Mike and I nodded. “Hey, long time no see,” I said.
“Ah… yeah, me and Lisa’s been a bit busy lately.”
Dinner was a bit stilted. I was on edge because I was wearing women’s clothes. On the way to the restaurant, I’d figured out that the socks were women’s trouser socks and the sweater was a woman’s sweater as well. It just felt too soft to be a man’s. When I confronted Carrie, she caved right away and seemed really pleased with herself that she’d got me to wear it. That left only my shoes and slacks. I knew for a fact that the shoes were women’s, and the slacks as I said, looked like some she’d been examining in that woman’s casual clothes shop, so I was sure they were women’s as well. That meant that I was wearing all women’s clothes… out in public.
Funny thing was, no one, not the hostess, the waitress, or the cashier at the restaurant, not Lisa, nor did Mike acted even a little bit like they even noticed. At the end of the evening that was kind of a thrill.
I asked Carrie, on the way home, “Do you think anyone had any idea what kind of clothes I was wearing?”
“Nah, they were all too caught up in their own personal thing to even give it a thought. Now if your top had had ruffles at the collar or the cuffs or maybe if the sweater had been pink instead of grey, then they would have at least done a double take. But so long as the clothes you wear are from the masculine end of women’s clothing, you can wear pretty much anything without anyone paying attention. I’ll have to see what I can do to get you some more pants that are really women’s but don’t necessarily look like it.”
Saturday morning, after a husband wife kind of cuddle, I went to take a shower. Carrie stuck her head in the door and called over the roar of the shower, “I put some things on the bed. Try them on and let me know what you think.”
Coming back into the bedroom, what I saw were some shorts and a polo shirt. The shorts were tan and knee-length; I hadn’t gotten around to getting any for myself. Carrie had some and had said I should get some so we could match, so I guessed she got tired of waiting for me and bought them herself. The polo shirt was black with no design. A while back, I’d bought some Crocs; their Prepair™ II Slides. Carrie had them out as well. OK, so it was a warm day out, well warm for January. We’ve always joked that when the temps got above 60, Oregonians broke out the shorts and sandals. Looks like it was a reality today. My matching navy blue panties and cami were there as well. As I got dressed, the only odd thing I noticed was the fly on the shorts was a little short. I’d have to lift things a little when I took a leak.
I found Carrie in the kitchen. She poured me a cup of coffee and asked, “What do you think about the outfit?”
“OK I guess. A little early in the year for shorts, but I guess it’s warm enough to get away with them. It’s supposed to be 72̊ today.”
She smiled as she flipped the hot cake she was cooking.
We ate breakfast as she outlined her plan for the day. “Today, I want to take you shopping. It’s time to buy you some things you can wear that no one would notice, but are women’s clothes.”
“You’re not going to have me trying on things in the women’s department are you?”
“No, but I do want you to see what I’m buying. We have to agree that you could get away with wearing them without comment.”
Off we went to the mall where we hit the women’s department in several major stores. I ended up with four shirts where the only giveaway was the buttons on the wrong… OK, other side. And four pairs of slacks, all with the fly going the other way. I was a bit hesitant about them, but Carrie assured me that no one would pay enough attention to pick up on the subtle differences. One of the stores we were in had unisex changing rooms where she did have me try on one outfit, just so I could see how it did look. To cover up my nervousness, I also took in a pair of men’s slacks and a shirt carefully placed over the women’s things as camouflage. I had to agree that with the shirt tail out, it would take an extraordinarily observant person to notice anything. Carrie wanted me to wear the outfit home, but I refused on the grounds that while no one looking at it was likely to notice, the cashier surely would realize she was ringing up women’s clothing that a man was going to wear out of the store.
We got home with our purchases and Carrie sprung another surprise on me.
“So how did you like your first time?”
“What do you mean, my ‘first time’?”
“Well, today you went clothes shopping fully cross-dressed… 100%.”
“What do you mean? Cross-dressed 100%?”
“Those are my shorts and polo shirt, and of course, your panties and cami.”
I was stunned and looked down at my clothes. It was then I could see the buttons on the polo shirt were on the wrong side marking it as a woman’s and that being the case what does the short fly on the shorts say about them?. “But what about my shoes? These are my Crocs.”
“The Crocs are unisex. Look on the bottom where the size is marked.”
I looked; there were two circles. One had a 9 in it, the other had an 11.
“The nine is the men’s size; the eleven is the women’s size. Those could be women’s as well as men’s.
“The only thing missing was that you weren’t wearing a bra. Maybe we’ll see about getting something that can be overlooked, and after you’ve worn it around the house for a while, you can wear it under that kind of outfit. But it’ll take a while before you feel natural in one.”
I sat dumbfounded staring at the bottom of my shoe. I guess I knew when I bought them they were unisex, but I never really gave it any thought. They were my sandals and therefore men’s sandals. I’d worn them maybe a hundred times and never gave a thought that women could be wearing the exact same shoe.
“Now that you’ve been out of the house shopping fully dressed in women’s clothes, it shouldn’t be that hard to do again. I think we should get you out at least once every weekend just for you to get the feel of it.”
“What? Are we on some kind of schedule? Is there a time limit for me to become a full-blown cross-dresser?”
“Ah… well, Lisa is kind of simmering while she tries to come to grips with Mike being a cross-dresser and she’s going about it all the wrong way. She’s in denial and making Mike miserable. I guess, since you’ve shown promise in the cross-dresser direction, I’d like to put you on a fast track. I mean, you don’t have the obstacle of a disapproving family or wife or whatever to hold you back. So why not push the envelope and progress as fast as you can stand the pace? In the end, it’ll really help Mike and he is your best friend.”
“Well, let’s not rush things too much OK? I may have the blessings of my wife to pursue my feminine side, but I’ve got twenty-eight years of 100% male thinking to overcome. If we jump ahead too fast, I think I might just freak out.”
“Don’t worry hon. We won’t take you out in dresses any time soon. For that part, we’ll wait for you to want it. I will, however, push you a little to experiment with the next level as soon as you’re comfortable where you’re at. Part of the object of this experiment is that at some point Lisa knows and can see that I’m cool with it. And so far, I love it.”
“I can’t believe we’re standing here discussing me becoming enamored with women’s clothes to the point that I’d want to wear a dress… outside the house even. At this point I’m not even sure that wearing one in the house is something I want to do.”
“Are you forgetting New Year’s Eve? You enjoyed your evening if I’m any judge.”
“Ok, ‘again’, but that was different. That was something special. I can’t see doing that again any time soon.”
“All in due time, my dear, all in due time,” Carrie grinned.
I kept Carrie’s clothes on the rest of the day.
By Patricia Marie Allen
Chapter 7
Exploring my feelings
On Sunday Carrie laid out some of her Capris and an honest-to-goodness button-up the front blouse and told me to get dressed while she made some oatmeal. The capris had an elastic waist and no pockets. The blouse was long-sleeved with a wide floppy collar. It was sheer enough to see the outline of my cami through it. I felt really kind of stupid. I mean, looking in the mirror I looked really dopey; a man wearing obvious women’s clothes.
“Carrie, you can’t be serious. I’d die if anyone saw me right now. I look ridiculous.”
She observed me with a critical eye. “That blouse hangs on you like a sack. You need some shape. I guess I didn’t think of everything. I didn’t get out your bra, but since it’s in your underwear drawer I thought you’d get it when you put on your panties and cami.” She indicated I should follow her to the bedroom. “Take off the blouse and cami, and let’s get you some feminine attributes,” she said as she opened the drawer.
I was a bit nervous as I stripped to the waist. Carrie waited grinning. As soon as I was bare-chested, she slipped the bra over my arms and fastened it behind me.
“I’d rather not do the big boobs from New Year’s,” I told her. She pulled a bit on my chest from inside the bra and tightened the straps. She frowned and as she put those silicone things in the cups. “If you were just a little pudgy it’d be easier.”
“She prodded and pulled up my pecs and the bra down.
“ “OK,” she said. “Put your cami and blouse back on.”
“When I did, I was amazed at the difference a couple of inches of silicone made.
“Monday was the start of a week like all the other recent weeks. By now, I was totally comfortable wearing panties and cami so I didn’t think about it anymore. However on Wednesday, I was in the restroom, which was the one place, I couldn’t ignore my underwear, and began thinking about just how comfortable I was. Strangely enough, I realized that I kind of missed the thrill that went along with the fear of discovery. That thought resurfaced several times the rest of the week.
“Saturday morning when I got dressed, I put on one of the sets of androgynous clothes that Carrie and I bought; only this time, I put on the bra. I wasn’t gutsy enough to put those blobs of silicone in it. I just let the cups hang. I told Carrie that I had some errands to run and headed out. Normally, I would have been going to the hardware store or some other manly thing when I went out on a weekend. This time, while I was willing to risk discovery, I wasn’t willing to risk men like those I might run into at the hardware store being the ones to discover my unusual attire.
“Instead, I simply went to the local Barnes and Noble, got myself a Mexican Mocha at the in-store Starbucks, and settled in with my Nook to read from their library for free. All told, I spent about an hour and a half in Barnes and Noble as people came and went. OK, so that wasn’t very brave. Most of the time I sat in an overstuffed chair with no likelihood that anyone could see anything. They never knew, but I knew I was wearing a bra.
“Back home, Carrie asked me where I’d been.
“ “I decided to try going out in my women’s clothes, complete with bra. I went to Barnes and Noble and read for a while.”
“She smiled and rubbed a hand up my back and paused as it crossed the bra straps. She kept smiling and looked at my chest. She cocked her head, narrowing her gaze. She put her hand on my chest to cover the bra cups. “No boobs,” she said. “Oh come on, you can do better than that!”
“With that, she hauled me into the bedroom and unbuttoning my top two buttons stuffed the blobs into the bra, sticking a hand inside to position and stick them to me. With some difficulty, she managed to hook the clasp. She smiled as she re-buttoned the shirt.
“ “Come on,” she said, “it’s about lunchtime. Let’s go get something to eat.”
“She had the bit in her teeth and I knew it was no use to resist.
“I soon found myself at one of our favorite restaurants ordering a soup and sandwich from the waitress we liked best. All the while, I was self-conscious; worrying that she would notice the subtle bumps on my chest. All for naught. She never blinked and gave us her usual good service while engaging us in pleasant conversation.
“ “See?” Carrie asked as we drove toward home. “Even with the bra and small boobs, she didn’t twig to the fact your clothes are women’s clothes. I bet you could wear those boobs to work and no one would notice.”
“ “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. If someone did notice, there could be some serious consequences.”
“ “Still, I think it’s time to step up the pace. You’re obviously feeling the need to do more, since you went out with a bra on. Hmmm,” she pondered a while.
“I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to fuel the fire any more than I had.
“After a time, she said, “I think two things are in order. One, we need to get you a bra that will more or less fit you without any additional padding. That could be a trick. The other is, it’s time to get you another nightgown. The question is what kind? Something feminine, that’s for sure. Waltz length, knee length, or baby doll… I’m not sure.”
“Abruptly, she turned a corner and in a few blocks we were in a strip mall parking in front of a business named, “Ann’s Lingerie and More.” As we walked in, Carrie said, “Ann went to the same high school as I did. We’ve kind of lost touch since then. I kind of ran into her when I was researching local lingerie shops.”
“ ‘Oh great, one of Carrie’s high school friends. I hope she doesn’t let on we’re shopping for me.’
“ “Hi Carrie,” a bit more than pleasingly plump blonde called out as the shop bell chimed. “I wondered when you’d be coming in.”
“ “Hi Ann,” Carrie replied. “This is my husband, Alex. Alex, this is Ann Murdock. I know her from high school.”
“ “So you’re Alex. So nice to meet you, Carrie’s told me all about you. What can I do for you guys today?”
“ “We’re looking for a nightgown. Something really feminine, but not necessarily sexy, if you know what I mean.”
“ “Well the sleepwear is over here,” she said turning to walk across the shop.
“ “What does she mean, ‘Carrie’s told me all about you’?” I hissed at Carrie as we followed.
“Carrie scowled at me. I grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her to a stop, raising my eyebrows.
“ “Don’t worry,” she said, “Ann’s shop is trans-friendly.”
“ “‘Trans-friendly?’ What’s that?”
“ “That means she’s happy to have business from the Trans community and is discrete in serving them.”
“ “You’re talking in riddles. When did you ‘tell her all about’ me?”
“Well, your panties and camis came from this shop.”
“So you told her about your ‘experiment’ when you bought them?”
“Not exactly. I did tell her about Mike and Lisa and how I wanted to find a way to help them.”
I looked up; horrified that Ann had walked back toward us. Carrie saw her too. “I’ll explain it to you later.”
“Is there something wrong?” Ann wanted to know.
“Oh, no. Alex is just a little intimidated with being in a lingerie store, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry Alex. I get lots of men in here. Some are buying for their wife or girlfriend, and some are buying for themselves. Some even come in dressed as women. I just treat them as customers. No one really pays them any mind,” Ann smiled.
I began to wonder what that was all about. Why did she feel the need to tell me about guys coming in dressed as women?
Just then, the shop bell chimed and a tall blonde walked in. Ann looked over. “Perfect timing,” she mused. “You two go on, I need to talk to this customer.”
“How did you find out about all this?”
Carrie began perusing the nightgowns. “One of the transvestite sites I discovered maintains a list of trans-friendly businesses and they rate them. She’s on the top of the list for our area. Really, I needed someone with an inside track on cross-dressing and what it was all about. When I saw the name, I realized I knew her and called her. She said if I could come right down, she was closing in half an hour and she’d be glad to talk to me over a cup of coffee and I just ran out to do just that. Well, it became hard to ask the questions without explaining why I wanted to know. So I told her that Mike, your high school friend, was a cross-dresser and his wife had just discovered it, and I was trying to make sense out of it so I could help his wife, who happened to be a good friend of mine.
“In the process, I told her how long we’d been married and that you were interested in helping Mike as well.”
“That’s all?” I questioned.
Just then, the blonde breezed over and started going through the nightgowns. “Doesn’t Ann stock the most gorgeous nighties?” she asked in a soft, husky voice.
Carrie smiled, glanced at me, and said, “I was just thinking the same thing.”
The blonde pulled one off the rack and held it up to herself. “This one’s lovely. Do you think it’d look good on me?”
“I think so. Alex, what do you think?”
I was more than uncomfortable. First, I wasn’t through interrogating Carrie about just what she told Ann, and second, I didn’t feel comfortable judging what some woman, other than my wife, would look like in a nightgown. “Ah… yeah, I guess.” The nightie in question was a pastel pink, a bit on the see-through side, and about knee length with ruffled flounces around the neck, arms, and hem.
“I think I’ll try it on, to see if it fits,” she smiled as she scurried off toward the opening marked, “Fitting rooms.”
Carried held up a long powder blue nightgown that was also see-through and had delicate ribbons woven into the lace over the bust line and said, “This one would be a nice one for you. What do you think?”
“Sure, that one’s great,” I agreed, just wanting to get out of the store.
“I’m not sure of the size. Maybe you better try it on.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. You can bring it back if it doesn’t fit. Even if I wanted to try it on, there’s a lady in the fitting rooms. She’d be a bit upset if a man went in to try on something while she was there, no matter how ‘trans friendly’ this shop is.”
“Oh, Drew wouldn’t mind,” Ann said startling me. “Drew’s a regular and whether she’s Drew or Andy at the time she wouldn’t care if a man was in the next cubical.”
I whirled to face Ann then looked back and shot daggers at Carrie. I was furious; Carrie must have seen Ann approaching and still talked about the nightgown being for me. Then it sank in what Ann had said. “Drew or Andy?”
“Sometimes, during the week, Andy comes in in drab to pick up something for Drew.”
My brain wasn’t quite wrapping itself around what she was saying. “Andy? Drab?”
“Drab (DRessed As a Boy) Andy. En femme or drag (DRessed As a Girl) Drew,” she smiled. “Drew is an officer in one of the local cross-dressing groups.”
“That’s… Drew is a guy?”
“Yeah, married with two kids. You couldn’t tell?”
“No, but now that you mention it, she, er he…”
“She when she’s en femme,” Ann interrupted.
“… She did have a rather husky voice and maybe not as much shape as she might, but not out of the ordinary for a woman. Maybe a bit on the tall side, but still not that unusual.” Then I remember why I’d shot daggers at Carrie. I turned three shades of red. “Oh God!” I looked angrily at Carrie again. “Carrie told you about our experiment, didn’t she?” I demanded. “That’s what you meant when you said she told you ‘all about me,’ isn’t it?”
Chapter 8
On the fast track
“Experiment? … Ah… OK, I think I know what’s going on now. You aren’t a cross-dresser, and Mike really is your friend and, ah … Liz, right?” she looked at Carrie.
“Lisa,” Carrie corrected.
“Lisa,” Ann continued, “really is a friend who really did discover her husband cross-dressed. God, I’m sorry Carrie. I thought your story was a thinly disguised ruse about you and Alex. I mean, you bought a dozen pairs of panties and camisoles to match. I thought you were trying to put up a brave front in an effort to accept your husband’s unusual hobby. But what’s this experiment?”
I looked at Carrie panic-stricken. “I think we’d better explain. She’ll piece it together now anyway.” I closed my eyes and nodded. “You see when I tried to console Lisa, she said, if it was my husband, I’d not be so ready to accept. So Alex has agreed to experiment with cross-dressing, so I can convince Lisa that cross-dressing can be accepted in a marriage.”
Ann smiled. “You’ve never entertained the idea of cross-dressing before?” she asked. I shook my head. “Well it’s very commendable of you Alex. Mike must be a true friend or, rather, you’re a true friend to him. You’re my kind of man. So how’s the experiment going? I take it the panties and camis were for you and you’re wearing them.”
I turned really red, so much so I could feel the heat in my scalp. I looked down and worked my mouth, but couldn’t make any words come out.
Ann put her hand on my shoulder. “No need to be embarrassed Alex. I take it you, kind of, like it? And this nightgown is the next step?” I nodded.
“Well,” Carrie said, trying to smooth out the conversation, “Alex, why don’t you slip in and try on the nightgown? Ann knows everything and obviously, Drew’s not going to object. I think you’ll just love sleeping in it tonight.” She handed me the nightgown.
I looked toward the fitting rooms just in time to see Drew come breezing out. “Good thing I tried it on, I’ll need a size larger and I think I’ll take in a couple more styles in as well,” she said with a smile, as she picked out three different nighties. “Are you going to try yours on?” she wanted to know.
I looked at Ann and Carrie who both nodded their head yes. I shrugged and followed Drew to the fitting rooms. “It’s great to be able to try on before you buy, isn’t it?” Drew observed. “I bought too many things hoping they’d fit. It was always harder to bring them back than it was to buy them in the first place. But with places like this, no need.”
In my own cubical, I stripped to my lingerie. Now there’s a phrase I’d never thought I’d use… “My lingerie,” not to mention, “My nightgown.” I slipped the nightgown over my head and luxuriated in the feel of the material. Carrie was right; it was going to feel great sleeping in this even more than the first one. Thinking about that, there was a question I needed to ask Carrie. ‘Just why do I need more than one nightgown?’
It took a few minutes to become objective about the fit. It was good across the shoulders and came nearly to my ankles but it seemed to just kind of hang down the front. It was obviously intended to have a bust line under it and the little things inside this bra weren’t cutting it. But I liked it just the same. Almost reluctantly, I took it off and redressed. I was amazed at how easily I managed the reverse buttons on the shirt, OK blouse or top or whatever.
“It fits fine for length and across the shoulders, but it kind of hangs on my chest,” I admitted to Carrie and Ann, who had obviously been talking while I was in the fitting rooms.
Ann smiled. “Well, we could fit you for a pair of forms, to improve the drape,” she offered.
I looked at Carrie. “That’s an option. You’d get a chance to find out what it’s like to sleep with boobs.”
I made a face. “I don’t think I’m ready for that. That’s a pretty big step. I bet those things aren’t cheap.”
“OK, soon though I think. But there is something else we need. Ann is there such a thing as a 38 double A or triple A bra? I think he’s ready to wear a bra full time, but he’s concerned about there being noticeable bumps under his shirt.”
“I can order them. I don’t get enough call for them to stock them. Let’s go back to the fitting room and I’ll measure you Alex. That way, I can be sure that the fit is right.”
With that, Ann turned and headed for the fitting rooms. “You can come too, Carrie,” she threw over her shoulder. Carrie stepped up behind me and with a hand on the small of my back gently urged me to follow. Ann led the way to an oversized fitting room.
“Alright,” Ann said, “take off your top.” I complied blushing as she would see I was indeed wearing a cami and bra. She took a measuring tape off a hook on the wall. “Arms up.” I lifted my arms and she wrapped the tape around just under the boob bumps. “OK, now strip to the waist.” At her insistence, I even peeled the enhancers off my chest. When I was bare, she prodded my chest, using the flat of her hand to lift the little bit of flab. Then she measured right across the nipples. “I’m going to recommend a 36,” she said. “You’re just barely a 38 and bra bands are forgiving. The 36 will make the most of your natural shape. It will give you a little cleavage without being noticeable when you’re in male mode.”
“OK, I guess.”
“Now while I’ve got you here, why don’t we experiment with something the majority of cross-dressers go for.”
“Ah, what’s that?”
She smiled and looked at Carrie. “Breast forms.”
“Yeah,” Carrie said enthusiastically. “Let’s, I really want to see what he’ll look like with a real bust line.”
Ann trotted out of the room leaving Carrie and I to ourselves.
“Breast forms?”
“They’re manufactured for post-mastectomy women, but cross-dressers use them to give a realistic bust line. They jiggle just like the real thing and pretty much have the feel as well.”
“I don’t know…” I started.
“Look, just try it, OK? We don’t have to buy them today. But I think you should see what there is to offer.
“I wonder what’s taking Ann so long,” she continued, stepping out of the fitting room.
I felt really stupid, standing there bare-chested in a fitting room in a women’s lingerie shop. There on the little bench lay my cami, bra, and booblettes. It seemed forever before Carrie returned carrying several boxes.
“She’s ringing up Drew’s purchases. She’ll be right in.”
“What’s all that?”
“Breast forms.”
“Why so many?”
“Got me. Ann had them on the counter and told me to bring them in here.”
Ann bustled in carrying three or four bras. “OK, sorry I took so long. Had to make a sale. Here, let’s get this bra on. It’s an ABC cup, so we can experiment with cup size to see what really suits you.”
She helped me on with a bra that had thin stretchy cups. Then she opened a pair of boxes and pulled out some really huge false boobs, complete with dark nipples, and dropped them one by one in the cups of the bra.
“We’ll start with the largest, just so you can get an idea what Dolly Parton works with.”
The boobs were so large that they really didn’t fit in the cups and the weight almost made me bend over. I had to tighten the muscles in my back to keep upright.
“Those would actually be a D cup on you. The bra isn’t really built for them, but I thought it would be fun to see what they looked like. Most CD’s want really big boobs. It’s a man thing, I guess.”
I looked in the mirror. They looked grotesque.
“I don’t think that’s what I want. I don’t have anything that would even go over that much boob,” I told her. Carrie just smirked.
“OK,” Ann grinned, “just thought I’d give you a look at the extreme. These are the largest I can get without special order.” She fished two ludicrous appendages out of the straining bra and replaced them with a slightly smaller version. “These are about a C cup on you.”
I really didn’t see that much difference other than they didn’t overload the bra. They were still quite heavy and not something I’d want to have hanging off my chest.
“Try your top over that.”
I obediently put my shirt on and found it hard to button and not just because of the buttons being on the left side. I shook my head no and said, “Look, let’s cut to the chase. If I’m going to wear these things, I want something that looks natural. I doubt I’ll ever go out of the house wearing them, but on the off chance that I do I don’t want them to call attention to me, OK?”
She smiled. “OK, we won’t go down to A cup size, because that would be noticeable enough for people to realize you have breasts, but not enough for your chest size and that would make you stand out as the underdeveloped woman. I assume you want to avoid undue scrutiny.”
She put another pair in the cups and while they were still on the heavy side, they didn’t look that much out of proportion and when I put my shirt on over them it hung naturally, though didn’t do anything to disguise them being there. I studied my reflection for a time. “OK,” I said finally, “if we get some, these are the ones I would take.” I took off my shirt and pulled the forms out of the bra.
Ann took them and set them in the box, but didn’t bother to put the lid on the box as she had the others. “The good thing about these is that they could be glued on, so that if you felt like it you could go braless. That would be a great asset if you wanted to wear a backless dress.”
“I’m not sure I’d want to wear a backless anything or go braless for any reason.”
“Well, there’s always the swimsuit issue.”
“Swimsuit?”
“Well, they do make swimsuits that have mastectomy pockets, but they tend to be pretty much granny style.”
“I’m not likely to go swimming in a women’s swimsuit anytime soon.”
“Perhaps, but the forms will last a long time. You may, sometime in the future.”
I unclipped the bra and Ann said, “Why don’t we get a look at them in a good bra?” She held up another bra that looked a bit more like something I’d like to see Carrie wearing. I looked at Carrie who was nodding vigorously and shrugged. Ann fastened the lacy bra around me and dropped forms in, one by one. Then she fussed with the straps a bit and turned me toward Carrie. “What do you think?”
“Nice,” she replied.
“Let’s try them under the camisole,” Ann suggested, picking it up and helping me on with it.
I looked in the mirror and, if I ignored my face, I thought they looked pretty good. I turned for a profile, first right then left.
“Looks like he likes them,” Carrie observed.
“Think so,” Ann agreed.
“What?! Why would you say that?” I wanted to know.
“The look on your face. That silly smile says it all. What was it the boys used to say in grade school? Your face says, ‘Hubba-hubba, ding-ding, baby you’ve got everything’,” Carrie giggled and Ann joined in, while I blushed. They were right, I was grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Put your top on,” Carrie continued.
I complied and again studied my reflection. While I was occupied with that, Carrie retrieved my old bra and booblettes. “They look great. We’ll take them,” she said as she exited the fitting room. Ann scooped up all the boxes and followed her.
It took me a moment to catch up with what was happening. “Hey,” I called out as I stepped out of the fitting room, “don’t I need a box to put these in?”
Carry and Ann just kept walking toward the register. I sprinted after them my ersatz boobs bouncing so heavily that I slowed to a quick walk. I caught up to them as Ann was starting to ring up our purchase.
“Don’t I need boxes to put these in?” I asked.
“Oh sure,” Ann said patting a bag with two boxes, and went back to ringing the nightgown.
As I reached for the bag with the boxes, Ann put the folded nightgown in with them. “Ah, why’d you put the nightgown in there? I was going to go back to the fitting room and put them in the box.”
“No need, dear,” Carrie said. “You can just wear them home.”
“I thought I was just trying them on and we’d buy them some other time.”
“Well, that was the idea, but you looked so good in them and seemed to like them so much, I thought it would be cruel if we didn’t get them tonight.”
As we were talking, Ann swiped Carrie’s card through the machine and tucked the receipt in the bag. Carrie put her card back in her purse and headed for the door. I started after her to protest, but Ann grabbed my arm and thrust the bag into my hand.
Totally confused, I hurried after Carrie. She was getting into the car. I opened the passenger door and demanded, “You need to wait while I go remove the boobs! I don’t want to wear them home.”
“Oh come on, Alex. Who’s going to see you? You’ll be in the car all the way home and we have a garage door opener that will allow me to close the door before you get out of the car.”
“But…” I then realized that it was useless to argue, she had already started the car. In a snit, I climbed in and slammed the door.
“Buckle up,” she said, putting the car into gear.
“There, was that so bad?”
“What’s with these? I didn't think we were going to buy them. You said we’d be getting a nightgown and a bra that fit without additional padding.”
“Look, we were going to buy them eventually anyway. And as I said, you seemed to like them, so we just bought them ahead of schedule.”
“We didn’t even buy a bra, well except for the one that’s holding these,” I said, indicating the lumps on my chest.
“Ann will have to order those. She said you can pick them up sometime next week. Meantime, you can experience breasts.”
“Yeah, well, these are not subtle little enhancements, like I was doing before; these are in your face boobs! I can’t go anywhere with these; everybody will notice.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think I could fix you up so no one would notice them particularly.”
“What do you mean, ‘fix me up’?”
“Come on I’ll show you.”
In a flash, we were in the bedroom and she got out her make-up. “Wait, I remember this.”
“Yeah, well this time, you’ll have the figure to go with it.”
“Now that we’ve got the make-up right, let’s get you into something that will complement it,” she said as she opened her closet. “Take off your shirt and put this on,” she continued handing me a blouse with a built-in lace-trimmed ascot.
The buttons were hidden behind a placket making it a bit hard to button, but I managed. When I looked up, I saw what looked to be a long, pale blue skirt in her hands. I recognized them from before. The palazzo pants. I remembered the sensual feeling of that gossamer fabric rubbing my legs.
With some misgivings, I removed my pants and took the dubious things from her. I was again taken with the fabric. The blouse I had on was silky, but this… this was… well chiffon. So light and so fine it might just have well been woven spider webs, only not sticky, but slippery instead. They were lined with silky polyester that made the blouse I was wearing seem like burlap. With shaking hands, I donned the gossamer garment. I trembled, hoping she didn’t notice, as I slid them up my legs. I don’t know why women don’t always wear these kinds of pants.
In a moment, I was lost. The feeling was like nothing I’d ever experienced wearing anything else. It was like being wrapped in a bit of heaven. My breathing instantly became shallow and my pulse rate raised by a magnitude of ten. I felt lightheaded, as if I might just float away.
“Earth to Alex! Come in Alex!”
So much for hoping she didn’t notice how the pants affected me. “What? Oh, I… I was noticing how soft and slick the fabric was. I’ve never worn anything like it.”
“Like I said, ‘scrumptious,’ huh?”
“Ah… yeah, scrumptious.”
“Put your sandals on and let me fix your hair.”
She had my Christmas sandals on the floor in front of me. I slipped my feet into the shoes and sat at her vanity while she fussed with my hair. The whole time, I lightly rubbed my legs with my hands, lost in the feel of the fabric.
By Patricia Marie Allen
Chapter 9
Gaining a better look
While I was preoccupied, she was looking ahead and making plans for me.
“You really need to let your hair grow out some more, but in the meantime, I think we should get it styled. You know different parts of your hair grow at different rates and for it to look right as it grows out, someone who knows about such things should take care of it. Just a little trim about every two weeks, to keep things growing even.”
I snapped back out of my wool-gathering. “What!? Are you suggesting we tell someone else about our experiment? …Or did you already talk to your hairdresser?”
“No, but I was thinking I could tell her that you wanted to recapture your youth and grow your hair out, but that I put my foot down on you looking scraggly like some kind of 70’s hippy. Then I could ask her if she’d oversee your journey into the past.”
“I just don’t want to deal with another of your cronies knowing that I’m letting you feminize me.”
“Oh Alex, I’m not feminizing you. I’m guiding you as you discover your feminine side. You know all men have a feminine side, just as all women have a masculine side.”
“Yeah, yeah, we went through that before. Call it what you will, but all I know is I’m discovering a lot more of my feminine side than I could have even imagined was there.”
“Ah… but the question is, do you like it?”
I opened my mouth to deny it, but just then, my hand told me about the exquisite feel of the fabric. She had me, I did like it. I’d gone to wearing women’s panties and camis fulltime and even dabbled in wearing a bra for no other reason than I wanted to. That didn’t even take into account that these pants sent me into orbit.
“Well? Do you?”
“OK, OK, I like it. It’s just that you’re ‘guiding’ me a bit faster than I’m comfortable with.”
“Look, I have an appointment with Janice on Monday. I’ll complain to her about you wanting to relive your long-haired student days. Then, at the end of the discussion, I’ll ask her if she’d mind overseeing your search for your lost youth.”
That was that. A statement of fact; no discussion; a fait accompli. It was a done deal.
“Come on, give me a hand with dinner,” Carrie told me.
I spent the rest of the evening in that outfit and eventually got to where it wasn’t constantly the only thing I thought about. But there were moments, like when we were watching TV and I crossed my legs. I kind of lost track of the show as I rubbed my calf against my knee. Then I was taken with the fact that I hadn’t simply laid my ankle across my knee as I usually did, but instead, I had knee over knee and I pulled my ankle close to my calf for maximum contact.
Then of course there were the trips to the bathroom. I couldn’t just go in and take a leak like before. I had to spend some time admiring my reflection. Carrie had done an excellent job of making me look like a woman. I don’t know if I could have admitted it to her at that time, but I doubted that anyone would have questioned me in any situation where I needed to be a woman. Not to mention, in keeping with the illusion, I sat. It just seemed the thing to do.
When it came time for bed, Carrie had another idea. After I cleaned my makeup off, I reluctantly took off the blouse and the heavenly pants. As I reached around and started to struggle with unclipping the bra, she said, “Why don’t you leave that on?” as she handed me my… ‘oh God,’ my nightgown; the new one. I shrugged and slipped the nightgown on without removing the bra. I was going to find out what sleeping with boobs was like.
Fortunately, I don’t sleep on my stomach, so lying on my chest wasn’t an issue; but still, the bra was a foreign feeling, especially when trying to get to sleep. That is, not to mention the nightgown. When I got in bed, it kind of swirled around me touching all parts of me at once. The feeling was surreal, something out of The Twilight Zone, like the show on the Sci-Fi channel. I could just hear the voice of Rod Serling saying, “...That's the signpost up ahead - your next stop, the Twilight Zone!”
It got even more unreal when Carrie snuggled up in her own silky nightie. ‘Oh… my… God…’ I’ve got to tell you, if you’ve never tried it, you should. I mean, even if you don’t approve of cross-dressing, the sensation of nylon nightie to nylon nightie is worth setting aside your prejudices to experience it. I don’t think I can even begin to describe the tactile sensation involved.
After a bit of snuggle time, Carrie kissed me and said, “Have a good night, I’ll see you in the morning. I can’t wait for the report of how you like your new nightgown.” With that, she just rolled over and dropped off to sleep. I, on the other hand, lay there taking inventory of where my life had gone in the last few months before I dropped into a fitful sleep.
In the morning, I awoke confused. There was a strange feeling on my body. My legs were bare and something… something soft and silky was wrapped around my middle. When I tried to discover what it was, my arm ran into some bumps on my chest. I immediately became aware of the bra strap. Then the night before came flooding back into my memory.
I struggled out of bed and quietly slipped into the bathroom. With the long nightgown, it was just too much trouble to hike it up and keep it out of the way, so I just dropped my panties, hauled it up behind and sat. I was a bit groggy anyway, so I’d have probably made a mess and Carrie wasn’t too happy when that happened. Splashes, you know. ‘Hum,’ I thought, ‘maybe I should just sit all the time. What the heck, I do it all the time at work to avoid using the urinal and risking someone getting a look at my underwear. … Yeah, Carrie would like that. The seat would be down all the time and cleaning the bathroom would be easier. … Besides, with the way she’s feminizing me, it just kind of fits. …’
‘You know, Alex, you’re flippin’ crazy! What the hell kind of man would be trussed up in a bra, with fake boobs, wearing a nightgown, sitting down to pee and thinking it would be good to do it all the time? Oh crap! I forgot to add that the crazy SOB likes it all…’
‘Yeah, what kind of man?’ … That really rattled me, I just realized I really did like what Carrie was doing to me, or to be more fair, with me. I mean, she was guiding, but I wasn’t resisting and I even struck out on my own a tiny little step. Problem was, I let her find out and she ran with it. That’s why I’m wearing the bra with the fake boobs.
Having finished my business, I stood and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess. ‘Yeah, time to do something with your hair.’ I picked up Carrie’s hair brush and ran it through the rat’s nest and somehow, though I brushed it every day, I was taken with just how long it was getting. It was well over my ears on the side and reached my collar in the back. I pulled it all back and discovered it was long enough to pull into a high ponytail. Not a very long ponytail, but it looked feminine enough. Especially when I tied it off with one of Carrie’s scrunchies.
I don’t have a very dark beard nor does it grow very fast, but it was just visible enough that it spoiled the image. So I lathered up and shaved. Now there’s a sight, a rather plain-looking woman in a nightgown with a face full of shaving cream, stroking a razor over her face. It brought to mind a scene from an old movie about the circus. The midway barker inviting people to see the bearded lady, only the bearded lady wouldn’t be shaving.
It was kind of a downer when I realized that it was Monday, a work day and I’d have to go all masculine again. ‘Where did that thought come from? Since when do I feel bad about being masculine?’ I studied my reflection in the mirror. Not as good as it was last night, but with the boobs and my hair pulled back it was feminine enough to call into question whether I was male or female.
I quickly took my hair down and stripped for a quick shower. In thirty minutes, I was ready to head out the door. I surveyed myself in the hall mirror and found myself wishing I could actually push the envelope a little for work. ‘Oh well, underdressing will have to do.’ As I realized I was disappointed, I quickly thought, ‘Alex, my boy, you’ve gone around the bend. You’re completely, stark raving mad.’
I took a break about ten and got myself some coffee in the breakroom. Alone, I brought my hand up to my chest and cupped my pectoral. I was sorry I wasn’t wearing the bra with at least the little stick-on boobs I started with. ‘Please tell me I’m not considering doing that… wearing the bra and booblettes to work,’ I thought, as if I was somehow talking to my own psyche.
I pondered that for a while and had to admit to myself that I kind of wished I had worn the bra. Upon further reflection, I decided that I was looking forward to the bra that Ann was ordering for me
It was Thursday afternoon when Carrie called. “I just got a call from Ann. You can stop by and pick up the bras tonight if you want. She’s open until seven.” Wouldn’t you know it; it was a day I was underdressing, but then that was pretty much full time these days.
My pulse picked up a bit. I was of two minds about it. On the one hand, going to a lingerie shop to pick up a bra for myself seemed a bit over the top. On the other hand, I couldn’t wait to see what a bra that was my size would feel like to wear. … ‘Wait, she said “bras,” just how many did she order?’ I couldn’t concentrate; after an hour, I made an excuse and headed out, only a little early.
“Hi Alex,” Ann said cheerily as I entered the shop.
I couldn’t believe it. I was going into a lingerie shop to pick up some special order bras for me… FOR ME!
“Ah, Carrie said our order was in.” I couldn’t bring myself to say “my bras” or “my order.”
“I’ve got them in the fitting room. You should try at least one of them on to make sure that it fits right. I’ll give you a little tutorial on adjusting the straps.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary? You did the measurements,” I said, wondering again just how many bras Carrie had ordered.
“It’s always a good idea. In fact, it’s my policy for special orders. I can send them back if there’s a screw-up, but only if they’ve not been worn.”
I felt really awkward being alone in the fitting room with Ann especially when she had me strip to the waist and would then be able to see what I was wearing underneath. I’ve got to give it to her, she was totally professional. She helped me on with it when it became apparent that I didn’t know the first thing about fastening a bra behind my back. She fussed with the bra, tugging at the flesh of my pecs and then adjusting the straps. The bra was amazing. The thing actually fit. It was in a pushup style so it wasn’t exactly without padding. The padding was in the bottom part of the cups to push up what was there naturally and once she got the straps adjusted, there was a modicum of cleavage showing. She went over what to look for when adjusting the straps. As she finished up, the bell on her door chimed and she left me to get dressed. I hesitated for a moment. I decided I wanted to see what it looked like under my work clothes. I wasn’t going back to the office anyway.
I slipped the cami on first and looked at my reflection for a bit. There was just enough padding under my pecs to push them up and out. Combined with the padding there was undeniably something under the cami. I put on my shirt and stood sideways to get an idea how it would look from the most obvious view. Yeah, I could see the difference, but I think that was only because I was looking. Facing the mirror, I didn’t look much different than a lot of men. I was fit enough that the enhancement might have been well-developed pecs; like I’d spent some time in the gym. I tucked in my shirt, picked up the bag with the other bras, and went back out to the main part of the shop. Ann was just finishing ringing up a woman’s purchase as I walked up.
As soon as she was out the door, Ann asked, “What do you think? Are they going to fit the bill?”
I just had to get smart-mouthed. “I don’t know about Bill but they fit Alex.”
She smiled. “Come back any time and tell your friends about the place. Word of mouth is my best advertising. Oh and when you’re ready for outerwear, here are some shops that offer the same kind of service I do.” She reached under the counter and produced a list. “The star next to the name indicates that you should call for an appointment. They prefer that cross-dressers come in before or after business hours.”
I took the paper and nodded. “I’m sure that Carrie will be in touch if she thinks of anything else I need.”
Chapter 10
More exposure
I’ve got to tell you, wearing a bra is a really different experience. Especially one that’s fitted to you and is a pushup bra. What I had worn before with the breast forms was different in a different way. That gave me a sense of what it might be like to have boobs. This one manipulated my pecs to make them look like I really did have boobs, albeit small, extremely small boobs, but boobs nonetheless. Looking down at myself, I could see the bumps, but I had seen other men with that kind of bumps under their shirts, so I hoped that so long as no one who knew me got interested in my chest they should go unnoticed.
“Hi hon, did you stop by Ann’s?” Carrie asked coming to greet me. “Oh, I see you did,” she continued, looking at the bag I was carrying. She gave me a hug and a kiss. She pulled back, and looked down at my chest dragging her hand over my shoulder, found the bra strap with her index finger.
She smiled and said, “Couldn’t wait to try one on, huh? What do you think?”
“Actually, Ann insisted that I try it on for fit. She said if it wasn’t right, she could send it back, but not if it had been worn. Since I was doing that, I decided to see how it looked with my cami and shirt on. By that time, it was just too much work to take it off.”
“Well, if that’s your story, just stick to it.” She grinned mischievously. “But you didn’t tell me what you thought.”
“It’s different.”
“Different, good, or different bad?”
“Neither actually, just different.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Do you like it?”
“Too soon to tell.”
“OK, keep it on and maybe wear it tomorrow as well. Maybe by the end of the day, you’ll have an opinion. I’m betting that given how you got used to the forms in the other bra, you’ll not find it an unpleasant experience.”
Getting ready for work on Friday was a struggle. While I had long since gotten used to underdressing and had really taken to wearing the nightgown after that first night, wearing a bra to work was a big step. I remembered how I’d fondled my pec and contemplated wearing a bra, even wishing I had.
In the end, I did it. I just wore the one that Ann had adjusted for me. I’d wasted enough time debating whether I’d wear it at all and didn’t want to take time to adjust another one. If I did that, I’d probably end up having Carrie help me with it and I wanted to do it on my own. I was afraid that if she knew, she’d make a big deal out of it and then prompt me to do it again. This was something that I had to do all on my own. I rationalize that it wouldn’t count if Carrie was the driving force behind it.
I was back to feeling nervous that someone would notice. To say I was distracted that morning would be an understatement. I fought the urge to hunch forward to hide my enhanced pecs. First of all, it would be out of character for me not to have good posture sitting at my desk. Secondly, since I was a suit coat kind of guy, but worked in my shirtsleeves, that maneuver would increase the chances of someone noticing the catch on the bra strap. I really didn’t get much work done until after lunch when I finally got into writing the report on the project that I’d finished on Thursday.
By the time I went home, I was pretty sure that no one had twigged to the idea that I was wearing a bra. I was a bit giddy as I drove home. When I got there, I feigned needing the bathroom and quickly changed into my casual clothes, which turned out to be those women’s jeans, a woman’s tee, and a woman’s flannel shirt, so that Carrie wouldn’t realize that I had worn the bra to work. To that end, I changed bras. I spent a long time adjusting the straps.
“I was about to organize a search party. What took you so long?” Carrie asked as she handed me my usual cup of coffee.
“Oh well, I was adjusting the bra. Ann adjusted the one I wore home, and she told me how to do it, but it’s not as easy as she made it look.”
“Did you get it adjusted OK?”
“I think so. It feels right.”
She stepped closer and hugged me, running her hand up my back so she could feel the bra strap. She smiled and kissed me softly.
“Dinner will be ready in about half an hour,” she told me.
I went to the office and checked my email. I also surfed some cross-dressing sites. If I was going to be joining the club I thought I should familiarize myself with what other cross-dressers thought.
I got lost on the computer; there was just too much information. Carrie came in and told me to get to the table because dinner was getting cold.
“Oh, I talked to Janet. She has an opening on Saturday, at 10. She’s penciled you in. If we don’t cancel, she’ll expect you then.”
“OK, just what did you tell her?”
She shrugged, “Just what I said. You’re feeling a bit old these days and longed to recapture your youth. That you had it in your head to let your hair grow out and it was working on becoming unkempt. I also told her I thought that it was because the company had hired some younger guys that were wearing their hair long.”
She was right, the company had hired in a couple of twenty-somethings that sported longer hair. The company dress code was nearly non-existent, so as long as it was neat and kept clean, they wouldn’t object. So if I was going to let it grow out, Carrie’s idea of keeping it trimmed up was good.
“OK, I don’t know about going to a salon to get my hair cut, though.”
“Not cut, dear, styled.”
“Hi, I’m Alex Douglas; I have a ten o’clock appointment.”
“Oh yes, Carrie’s husband. She told me you’d decided to let your hair grow. I can see,” she said, studying my hair, “that she’s right. You do need something done with it. Right this way.”
I was self-conscious. Not only was I in the quintessential women’s territory, but I was wearing those androgynous clothes that were really women’s but didn’t really look like it, complete with the “Italian” loafers and trouser socks. What’s more, I was underdressed to boot including one of my new bras.
She led me to a chair and draped a pink polyester cape over me. She started off by running her fingers through my hair. I was glad I’d washed it that morning. It can tend to be greasy. She hummed a bit and lifted first this part and then that part.
“You know, you’re not the first man I’ve had in here wanting to grow their hair out. Most of them are a little older and are fighting a receding hairline and some even male pattern baldness.”
“Yeah, well I’m hoping to avoid that baldness thing. My dad and my uncle both had a full head of hair into their eighties.”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky. We’ll start off with a quick wash and condition. What have you been using to wash your hair?”
I was a bit embarrassed to admit it, but the tone of her voice told me she’d figured out that it wasn’t a real shampoo.
“Ivory soap.”
“I thought so. You should use the Paul Mitchell products that Carrie uses. It’ll make your hair look a lot better. That’s important if you’re going to wear it long.”
She washed, conditioned, and combed it out. She then pulled up different sections of my hair and clipped it off with some big plastic clips. She did all the cutting with scissors whereas my barber used clippers almost exclusively. But then Joe, starts at the scalp in the back and clips up pulling away from the head as he goes and trims the hairline close on the sides. He does finish off with scissors on the top of the head.
Janet simply snipped the ends a bit in most places. The longest piece she cut off couldn’t have been more than a quarter of an inch or maybe a little more. Joe went at a haircut like it was a production line, whereas Janet was an artist, paying attention to detail. When she got through with all the sections she leaned the chair back again and washed and conditioned it again.
“Your hair is in pretty bad shape,” she told me as she was blow-drying it. “I’m going to recommend Paul Mitchell Super Skinny Hair Serum. You should use it for a while. That Ivory soap is good for washing hands, but it definitely did a number on your hair.”
She brushed my hair out and then hit it with some hair spray. I almost objected to the hairspray, but then I thought about the cross-dresser angle. I remembered some of the info I found on the internet some cross-dressers talked about the “salon experience” and hairspray played a part. So I just rolled with it.
I contemplated my visit as I drove home. All in all it wasn’t what I had feared when Carrie brought the idea up. Janet didn’t act like there was any more to my growing my hair longer than what Carrie had said she told her. ‘Seems like Carrie’s stuck to her word on this part of the adventure. I’m glad I didn’t just roll with it and let her repeat the scenario that happened with Ann.’
“How’d it go?” Carrie wanted to know.
“OK, I guess.”
“Your hair looks great. It’s a lot neater. What’s in the bag?”
“Oh, she sent me home with some kind of hair treatment. She said that my ‘Ivory soap really did a number on my hair’.”
Carrie took the bag and looked in it. She nodded.
“Well, I’d use it if I were you. Janet knows her stuff and if she said you needed it, then I’m sure you do. When your hair is short, it really doesn’t make much difference but when it’s longer, it needs to be healthy so it doesn’t break off. That’s what causes split ends.”
“She said that I should quit using Ivory soap and switch to your shampoo and conditioner.”
“I’m not surprised. I just replenished my supply. Did she say how often she wants to see you?”
“Yeah, every four weeks. My next appointment is March 20th. She said that she’ll just make it a standing appointment, so the next one will be the 17th of April.”
“With both of us using it, we’ll need more just after your appointment. Maybe we should buy it in the jumbo size. Usually, only salons buy that size. But in the long run we’d save money.”
‘In the long run? How long does she think it will be before I give this up and go back to … back to what? Can I even go back?’
“What is layering?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because Janet said that by April, she expected my hair would be long enough that we could do some layering.”
“Oh good. Layering is like my hair. The top and sides are cut shorter than the bottom and the back. It makes it easy to care for and style. The longer hair makes it look like long hair, while the shorter hair gives it volume when it’s teased a little, but it blends in with the longer hair and gives the illusion of it being all one length. You’ll love it.”
“I’m not sure about it on me, but your hair always looks great.”
The second time I went to see Janet, I wasn’t as nervous. That was for a couple of reasons. The most obvious was that Janet and the salon were known commodities. The second reason was by then cross-dressing had taken on a familiar air. It no longer felt foreign or strange. In fact, I looked forward to the weekends when I could get out of bed and have my outerwear match my underwear. That and I’d grown to like the feel of those special-order bras. Much to my surprise, I had thought how nice it would be to have a little more to put in the cups. I had experimented with the small gel boobs that I started with. I had to readjust the straps, but with the things stuck to my chest just below my pecs, they combined with the gel pushup pads to really show some cleavage. They did add to the size of the boobs as well, but all my shirts were loose enough that even Carrie didn’t notice that I’d added them to the mix.
“Hi Alex, come on in,” Janet said as I stepped through the door.
“Hi Janet.”
I walked in and sat in the chair. She repeated the process from my last visit.
“Your hair looks a lot better. You’ve obviously been using the products I recommended.”
“Yeah, the stuff does make a difference. I was concerned that my hair might be a little hard to manage, but the stuff seems to have made my hair thicker, and that repair stuff makes it kind of stay where I put it. Oh, before I forget, Carrie says with both of us using the shampoo and conditioner, we need some more.”
“Not a problem, I’ve got plenty in stock.”
We continued to chat as she washed, conditioned, and clipped little bits of hair. It wasn’t the kind of conversation I’d get at the barber shop. It was more along the lines of what techniques I could use to style my hair. When she was through snipping, she brushed it out and turned me toward the mirror and demonstrated some of them. Somehow this time my hair looked totally different than it had before. It was noticeably longer and fuller than ever before; even counting my student activist days. Then it was long, but it just lay flat on my head.
“Now, if you were a woman, at this point we’d be looking to give you some bangs.” She brushed the hair on top, forward and then off to one side.
I felt a cold chill go down my spine as I looked at my reflection. That simple move gave my androgynous look a solid push toward the feminine. If I had been wearing any woman’s top other than the nondescript polo shirt I had on, all I’d have needed was a little mascara and some light lipstick and it would have been complete.
Next she pulled the hair back and tied it off with a scrunchie. Not the low ponytail you’d expect on a man, but high at the crown. It was just long enough to support the idea of a ponytail without looking odd. That combined with the bangs she’d created turned that cold chill into a cold sweat.
“Too bad you’re not a woman. That look is totally you.”
She took out the ponytail and moussed my hair, and styled it with the hair that had made up the bangs brushed back and off to the side, giving my hair a more masculine cant. The sides were styled back, just over the top of my ears, concealing a little less than half of them.
By Patricia Marie Allen
Chapter 11
Outed times two
Carrie wasn’t home when I got there, so I changed clothes. I got out a top she’d all but given me. It was way too feminine for me to wear out of the house, but she said that she liked it on me. This was the first time I’d worn it without her suggesting it. It fit me a little tighter and was a little thin; thin enough that you could see my cami and bra straps through it in the right light. I went into the bathroom and recreated the look that Janet had demonstrated. Opening the drawer, I got out Carrie’s makeup bag and pulled out her spare lipstick and mascara. I had some experience with mascara, but this would be my first time solo. It took two tries before I got it passable.
When I was through I went to the long mirror in our bedroom. I stared at my reflection. With just that little bit of makeup, my masculine edges were totally blurred. I could have been the sister I never had. I shuddered to think what I would look like if I let Carrie have her way with all the tricks in that makeup bag.
I shook myself and hurried to the bathroom and made use of the wipes to remove the makeup. I was careful to be sure that it all came off and changed back into my polo shirt. I didn’t want Carrie to use it as an excuse to escalate things.
I reflected on what I’d done. It was so cross-dresser like. I borrowed my wife’s top while she was out, played with her makeup, and then destroyed the evidence that I’d done it so she wouldn’t know.
Life went on. I might just as well have thrown away my jockey shorts and wife beater undershirts for all I wore them. I was underdressing full time. And more times than not, I had the extra enhancements in my bra. Still, Carrie never seemed to notice; even at night on the weekends when I chose to leave my bra on under my nightgown. Oh, she did notice the bra and teased me a little about liking it so much that I couldn’t bear to take it off. What really motivated me to keep it on was that it hid those little extra additions.
Then in May, I had my third appointment with Janet. It went pretty much like the last one. Once again, she complimented me on the condition of my hair. When she got through this time and was experimenting with different styles I could achieve things got interesting. She got out a curling iron and put some wave in my hair, recreated the bangs, and stood behind me as she showed off her handy work in the mirror.
“You have lovely hair, now that you’re taking care of it. Any woman would be proud to look like this.”
This was a very feminine me. I’d worn a top that Carrie had found online from a site called “Woman Within.” I thought it would have been a cross-dresser’s website, but it was a plus-size woman’s clothing site. The top was called a “Big Shirt.” It looked like any other Oxford shirt, but of course the buttons were on the left side. Under it, I had worn a black cami that I had noticed and commented on as being sexy when Carrie was browsing the site. It had a lot of lace trim with the most being right across the bust… about a four-inch band. Carrie took that as a hint and included the black one and a matching white one in the order that fetched three of these Big Shirts. At home, I left the top three buttons undone so that the lace peeked out on occasion. I was sorely tempted to do that now to get the full effect.
When Janet was putting my hair back to the masculine look that I’d come in with she asked, “Does Carrie know the real reason you’re letting your hair grow out?”
“Real reason?”
She reached around and took a button in her fingers and gave a little tug.
“I noticed the shirt because I have one just like it. I’ll bet that if I were to take a look at the tag, it would say “Woman Within” wouldn’t it? Don’t get upset, I won’t say anything to her if you don’t want me to. You aren’t my first transgender client. Some of them just throw caution to the wind and let anybody and everybody know. Others keep it secret from their wives and family. I’m betting that you’re underdressed as well.” She slid her hand down my back and stopped as it crossed my bra strap.
I was dumbfounded. I didn’t know what to say. She just looked at me in the mirror. Finally I found my tongue. I decided to tell her everything. Well not the whole story. She didn’t need to know about Mike and Lisa.
“Yes, she knows. To be totally honest she’s been fascinated about cross-dressers since she was fourteen. She saw some talk show where there were married cross-dressers. Anyway, something sparked her interest and she decided that she’d like to walk in the shoes of those wives on the show. It took a little while (I didn’t tell her how little – less than twenty-four hours) but she talked me into trying it. So anyway, on weekends I don’t wear any men’s clothes. Is that sick or what?”
“Not sick. It’s sweet of you to give in to her curiosity. So, do you like the experience or do you just go along with what Carrie wants?”
“Strangely enough, I like it. I don’t know if I’ve become a real cross-dresser, but I can see the appeal it has to them.”
There was another of Carrie’s friends or associates that knew of what we’re doing.
Carrie had invited Lisa and Mike for a barbecue on Memorial Day. She hadn’t bothered to tell me until Friday evening. It had been nearly four months since I’d had a chance to talk with Mike, probably the longest time since I’d first met him, so I didn’t make a big deal about it. At least Carrie had gone shopping and bought everything we needed. By this time, I had a good selection of women’s clothes that would pass for men’s and I was in the habit of wearing them, most of the time. So I was in some denim shorts and a baggy t-shirt with a flannel “big shirt” over it unbuttoned and a new pair of Crocs that were only sized in women’s sizes. I was also in the habit of wearing one of those bras that fit me all the time including the extra that I’d become used to, so that was included in my underwear. I was a little nervous that Lisa would have her cross-dresser radar tuned in and spot it. But then that was kind of the idea behind Carrie’s experiment. An experiment that had taken on a life of its own.
I was outside getting the barbecue ready when they showed up. I greeted Mike as he came to the patio door.
“Hey, buddy, glad you could make it. Long time no see. Why don’t you grab a couple of beers out of the fridge and bring me one?”
He looked at Lisa and she nodded. I found that a bit unsettling. It was obvious that he needed her permission to come out on the patio, like I might be a bad influence on him. Thinking about Carrie’s experiment, if she knew, I’m sure she’d feel that was the case.
Mike joined me as I lit the barbecue and handed me the beer. He gave me a weak smile. He was a shadow of my old friend. It was clear to me that he was miserable. We sat down at the patio table while we waited for the barbecue to come up to heat and sipped our beers. I noticed that Carrie had poured some white wine for her and Lisa and they were leaning across the kitchen island. Mike glanced inside before he leaned in and said, “Lisa’s been in a snit for a while now. I’m surprised that she accepted the invitation to come.”
I took a long pull on my beer before I said anything.
“Look, Mike, I think you should know that Lisa came over the Friday before Thanksgiving looking for sympathy from Carrie and they kind of got into it. Lisa ended up leaving in a huff.”
Mike looked surprised.
“It was the day you guys were supposed to go away for that long weekend.”
Mike looked down. “I suppose she told Carrie all about what she found out.”
“Yeah, Carrie told me. Look, it doesn’t mean anything to me. What kind of clothes a man wears is his business and nobody else’s. You’re my oldest friend. We’ve been best buds since middle school. I know you probably better than anyone else in the world. This isn’t going to come between us.”
Mike looked inside again. “So you know all about my ‘perversion’?”
“I’d say that perversion is a matter of perception,” I told him as I got up to toss the baked potatoes on the upper rack of the barbecue and adjust the temp.
It was Mike’s turn to take a long pull on his beer. He closed his eyes. In a low voice, he said, “You know that wasn’t the first time I’d done that.”
“I suspected as much.”
“Oh God, I’ve never been able to talk to anyone about this, at least not a friend. Lisa’s got me going to a shrink. I have to talk to him about it. Thank God he doesn’t want Lisa in the room. He just asks a lot of questions and gets me talking about how I feel. I keep waiting for him to suggest shock therapy or send me off to one of those cure camps I’ve heard about.”
I looked him in the eye. “Do you want to be ‘cured’?”
He looked in the kitchen again and then back at me as if to study me. In the end, he looked down and shook his head no. “I’ve tried before to quit, but the longest I’ve made it before now was four months. I thought when I got married, I’d just lose interest. But it just got worse. The closet is full of Lisa’s clothes and a surprising number of them fit me. The only things of hers that I can’t fit into some of are her shoes. Up until she came home early that Friday, I had a pair of heels. No more. She broke the heel off of them and threw them in the garbage.”
“You know that she was pissed at Carrie just after she caught you.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t figure that out.”
“When she came crying to Carrie about you, Carrie told her about an old talk show host, Phil Donahue, who had married cross-dressers on the show and said it really wasn’t all that bad. Lisa didn’t take that well and told her that if it was her husband, she wouldn’t think it was cool, and stormed out. So Carrie took that as a challenge and came up with a plan to find out if that was true.”
I noticed that Carrie and Lisa were heading our way. I motioned with my head in that direction and said, “I’ll be glad to talk some more if we can get some time alone.”
Mike glanced toward the patio door and mumbled, “Not much chance of that. She’s got me on a pretty short leash.”
Carrie had the steaks on a plate covered with foil and Lisa carried the salad.
“I saw you put the potatoes in, and I think they should be done soon, so I brought the steaks out,” Carrie said.
They joined us at the picnic table. The first thing Lisa said was, “So Carrie tells me you’re feeling old.”
“Yeah, I made the mistake of thinking of twenty-five as being a quarter of a century. Now, here I am, rushing toward the big three-oh.” It was a practiced line that I used whenever anyone mentioned me letting my hair grow out. I knew that’s where she was heading. It was hard for people not to notice these days. For work I moussed it and kept it close to my head, only letting it loosely cover the top of my ears. It was getting too long to get away with that for much longer. On the weekends, I shampooed and conditioned it and fluffed it with a blow dryer. Today, I’d hit it lightly with some hair spray; I knew I’d be outside and subject to errant breezes. The layering Janet had done really made my hair look full of body. To my surprise, my hair had a bit of natural curl.
“Well, it does make you look younger. I’m a little surprised. You’ve always struck me as a conservative.”
“You didn’t know me in college. I was pretty much one of the radical left. You could say I was an idealist. Then I graduated and entered the real world. While I still consider myself a social liberal, I’ve become a political and fiscal conservative. It serves me well in business.”
“Come to think of it, some of Mike’s stories about you two in college make that seem plausible.”
At this point in the conversation, I’d have expected Mike to join in and point out that he and I share the same political and fiscal views. But he sat silently by. Another indication that Lisa had him cowed. My heart went out to him.
We spent the afternoon pretty much as we’d always spent it when Mike and Lisa were over. I got over my nervousness about Lisa noticing. Carrie had mentioned that people decided what to think about what you were wearing in the first thirty seconds of seeing it and then didn’t reevaluate that opinion and that they usually saw what they expected to see. That must have been true of Lisa that day because, aside from her comments on my hair, she never blinked when looking at me. She didn’t notice that my shorts had the fly being right over left, or that it was shorter. Nor did she notice the buttons on my flannel shirt being on the left.
After we ate, Carrie, according to plan, maneuvered Lisa into the kitchen, leaving Mike and me to clean up the grill.
“Mike, I don’t know if I should say anything, but you should know that I’ve been looking into just what cross-dressing is all about.”
“Unless you’re involved in it, you can only get an academic understanding. You’d have to try it and like it to get a true understanding of what I go through.”
“That was my conclusion too,” I said taking hold of one of the buttons on my shirt and pulling the shirt out an inch or so. I glanced down at what I was doing. Mike glanced down as well. He looked back up and then did a double-take.
“You’re kidding me.” He looked toward the kitchen and back at me. “You’re…”
I glanced at the kitchen to be sure that Carrie had Lisa occupied. I pulled the neck of my t-shirt aside to reveal the bra strap. “From the skin out.”
“You’re wearing a bra?” he hissed.
I nodded my head. “Yeah, they were special order. It seems that one of Carrie’s high school friends runs a lingerie shop and caters to the Trans community.”
“Which one?”
“Ann’s Lingerie and More.”
“I know the place. I’ve never had the courage to go in though.”
“Like I said, Ann is an old high school friend to Carrie. She had to order them special. I should wear a 38, but she put me in a 36A push up. With the little silicone pads at the bottom of the cups, it pushes my chest’s flab up and gives just a little cleavage. It’s kind of a thrill to look at in the mirror.”
“I can identify, only I had to use a lot of tape and some birdseed in a nylon to get that effect. God, I wish I could wear a bra that fits me.”
Mike looked at the kitchen again. “You wear all this stuff and Carrie knows?”
“It was her idea.”
“So, how did you start?”
“Carrie convinced me to give it a try so she could find out if it made a difference when it was her husband. I went along because I knew that when Carrie got an idea in her head, she’d not let it go. When I agreed to try it, I expected to not feel anything but uncomfortable or perhaps embarrassed. I didn’t see how me putting on women’s clothes would prove anything. I at least knew enough about cross-dressing to know that it was more than wearing the clothes. I figured I’d humor Carrie for a week or two and it would be over. But she went at it like a general on a battlefield campaign. She seemed to intuitively know just how to get me to admit to my feelings about it.
“To my surprise, I did like it, though I wouldn’t admit it to myself for weeks. By the time we got together for dinner after New Year’s, I was pretty much ensconced in underdressing. Not quite full time, but more often than not. And I was cross-dressed from the skin out at that dinner too.”
“So you’re telling me that you’re a cross-dresser too?”
“I’m afraid so. Trust me; I’d like to say that I’m not. But in all honesty, I’ve come to like it, and I doubt if I’d be able to just stop and never do it again.”
Mike gave me a rueful smile and chuckled a little.
“Welcome to the club, sister,” he said.
By that time, we’d finished cleaning the grill, and it would seem odd if we just stood around out there. With evening coming on, it was getting a little chilly. So we covered the grill and went inside.
Chapter 12
Admitting it out loud
About an hour later, the girls were watching a chick flick on TV while we were drinking coffee. I had a sudden urge to show Mike my newly acquired wardrobe.
“Hey Mike, you replaced your shower valves last year, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. You should know. When I was showing off my handiwork, you told me that it was the same one as you had in your master bath.”
He was right, I did know and I remember telling him that.
“That’s what I thought. Mine has begun leaking and I’m going to need to open it up to replace some of the guts, but I don’t want to shut the water off to the whole house.” Carrie looked up at me, and I gave her a little shake of my head, ‘no’. I continued talking to Mike. “I remember that you had the water shut off at the valve in the bathroom. I took a look, but I can’t seem to figure out how to do it. Would you mind taking a look and show me how?”
“Sure, we’ll need a big flat-blade screwdriver.”
I went to the laundry room where my household toolbox was, and grabbed the biggest screwdriver I had there. It wasn’t all that big, but I was counting on Lisa either not paying attention or not knowing how big a big screwdriver should be. Mike started to say something, but I shushed him and motioned him to follow me.
In the master bedroom I said, “There’s nothing wrong with the shower, I just wanted to get you in here where we could talk.”
“OK.”
“I just wanted you to know how much I’m into this. So I thought I would show you the clothes I’ve amassed since this started. Do you want to see?”
He took a deep breath as though it was hard to do so. He bit his lip and then said, “It’ll be like being a kid in a candy store without enough money to buy anything, but I guess I’d like to live vicariously through you, so yes.”
I pulled open my underwear drawer where alongside my currently unused tighty-whities there was nearly a dozen pair of panties and camis, two 36 A bras, and one 38 C. In one corner of the drawer were the boxed C-cup breast forms. Mike scanned the drawer and stared at the boxes. They were clearly labeled.
“Are those what I think they are?”
I nodded and pulled the lid off one and took the form out, rolling it over. It looked like a disembodied boob.
“God, I’m seriously jealous. I’ve always wanted a pair of those, but they’re a bit expensive and would be tough to hide.” He reached out and touched it tenderly as if he was afraid it would break.
I put it back in and closed the box, then opened my closet. I pointed out the now four pairs of women’s shoes and then the left side where my dress and other women’s clothes were hanging.
“That dress makes me think of the cross-dresser’s mantra, ‘all dressed up and no place to go.’ Where would you wear a dress like that?”
“Carrie and I rang in the New Year while I was wearing that. She did my hair and some makeup, and we watched the ball drop, and she kissed me. Lipstick on lipstick, that’s an experience I never thought I’d have.”
“Oh God, I’m so damned jealous I could spit.”
“I’m not sure just how Carrie will pull it off, but when she figures the time is right, I’m sure she’ll prove to Lisa that she still thinks cross-dressing is cool even if it is her husband with the idea being that since they’ll be on even ground, Lisa might listen to reason and lighten up on you.”
“I can’t tell you that right now is not that time. Frankly, I’m surprised that she agreed to come over here. You guys are the only ones we’ve had any social contact with since before Thanksgiving. You know she didn’t want to do that dinner with you guys. She said Carrie bullied her into it.”
“I thought as much, and I suspect that was the case for today as well. I can tell you first hand when Carrie puts her mind to it, she could talk a polar bear out of his pelt. I suspect that Carrie will engineer more of these get-togethers, and at each one, I’ll be fully cross-dressed.”
Mike nodded his head and looked wistfully at my closet.
“I think we’ve probably used up all the time we can claim for looking at the shutoff on the shower control. We’d better get back before they come looking for us, and Lisa finds out too soon that I’m cross-dressing.”
“About that, tell Carrie to wait quite a while and choose her time carefully. If Lisa isn’t ready, you’ll set back whatever progress I’ve made to that point. What’s worse, she’ll forbid me to have any contact with you.”
“I will buddy, I will.”
When they first arrived, Lisa had seemed a little uptight, but by the time they were ready to leave, she had loosened up quite a bit and seemed more like the Lisa of old.
As we were seeing them out the door, Lisa said, “Thanks for having us. It was good to get out. I nearly began to suffer cabin fever. Today it was almost like before…” she paused to shoot a stern look at Mike, “we’ll have to do this again.”
“I agree; the sooner the better,” Carrie agreed. “Why don’t we plan a dinner and a movie out next month, say for my birthday? It falls on a Saturday this year.”
“Sounds good, I’ll call you.”
“I know that our shower isn’t leaking, so what did you and Mike get up to when you were supposed to be learning how to shut off the water to the shower?”
“I could see that Mike was miserable when they came over, so while we were setting up the grill, I told him that we knew about his cross-dressing. One thing led to another, and I felt like I had to do something to let him know that it didn’t make any difference to us.
“We talked and I let him in on the experiment.”
Carrie raised her eyebrows. “When you say ‘let him in on the experiment,’ what did you say?”
“I made sure he noticed that the clothes I’m wearing are women’s. When he did, I let him know it was from the skin out. We talked about how that came to be and I told him the whole story. Though it had to be in bits and pieces because you and Lisa were around off and on. I used the shower as an excuse to get him away from Lisa. I showed him my wardrobe so he could see just where I was in this.”
“So, just where are you in this?”
“I think you know.”
“I think I do too, but I want to hear you say it.”
“I… I’m a cross-dresser. A real cross-dresser, not just experimenting to help a friend.”
Carrie smiled, and wrapped me in a hug. “I’ve known that since New Year’s. I’m happy to hear you admit it to yourself. It’ll make what we have to do for Mike easier. You won’t have to try to convince yourself that it’s all for show.
“So, now that your true feelings are out in the open, how do you want to proceed from here?”
Having admitted to Carrie and more importantly to myself that I was a cross-dresser, I had to come to grips with just what that meant in my life. I resorted to a lot of online research. I studied every professional paper I could stomach. The information was overwhelming. I also frequented cross-dress sites, the online community, so to speak. I was only a lurker. I didn’t register on any of the sites. That would have meant admitting to the world I was a cross-dresser. I later came to understand that the need for anonymity was quite common among cross-dressers. Here we were in the 21st century, and still cross-dressing was considered a perversion by most people, though Gender Dysphoria seemed to be finding a footing, at least in the legal and medical realms. Yet, only those with nothing to lose were willing to be open about it.
I read horror stories of marriages breaking up (Lisa’s attitude seemed prevalent among wives) and of jobs lost, of families disowning the transgender individual. I also discretely looked up my company’s policies. Fortunately, it was all contained in the employee handbook they gave new employees. Like most people, I had given mine a cursory thumb through and tossed it in a drawer.
The relevant passage:
It is the policy of the company, to treat all individuals the same in any aspect of employment practices without regard to race, religion, creed, color, national origin, disability, marital status, sex, age, veteran status, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression, genetic information, or any other protected class in accordance with applicable federal laws.
At last, I began to take this cross-dressing thing seriously, and so did Carrie. The very next Saturday when I went to get dressed, I was in for a surprise. I had thought that since I was an admitted cross-dresser that maybe I should experiment with a more feminine look and was thinking about just how to do that when I opened my closet. There, next to my assortment of women’s trousers and androgynous tops, were three skirts and two dresses. I recognized one of the dresses from when Carrie had taken me shopping. While in the women’s department, she insisted that we needed to look at more than just trousers and tops. She maintained that even if a woman wasn’t going to buy, she would at least look at dresses. The dress in question was one that I had commented on as being “nice.” I couldn’t be sure about the other one. It may have been there as well. As for the skirts, they all looked similar to ones I had admired on Carrie.
I took out the gray pleated one that would strike me at the knee. Carrie had one like it, but this one was definitely mine. It was fitted at the waist and over the hip where the pleats began. The waist closed with a zipper at the back and was not the right size for Carrie. All of her things I’d worn had elastic waists; any of the others were just too small for me.
Wearing my robe, which Carrie had exchanged for a quilted blue robe, I took the skirt out to the kitchen, where I knew Carrie would be putting together our usual weekend breakfast. The blue robe was definitely feminine. My old robe was tucked away up on a shelf in case I need a robe for someone else to see.
“Carrie, what’s with these skirts?”
“Well, as I remember, last year, you and Mike decided to go to the Highland Games and since you both have decidedly Scottish last names, you’d both be wearing kilts. The games are only six weeks or so away. If you’re going to spend the day in a kilt. I think it would behoove you to find out if you can actually do it without flashing your underwear to all and sundry. Kilts start at a hundred dollars and can be more than a thousand. So rather than spend all that money only to find out you’re not comfortable in a kilt, I thought a couple of skirts to practice in would be in order. Besides, since you’ve finally admitted to being a cross-dresser, you’ll want the skirts sooner or later.”
There was a certain amount of twisted logic in what she said. That and I’d just been thinking that maybe I should expand my feminine wardrobe to include more than pants and tops.
It took some effort, but I got it on. After fumbling with the catch behind me for a while, I turned it around, hooked and zipped it. It was quite an effort to turn it back around. The waist was tight, but the hips were loose. I had thought I’d wear a tucked in blouse with it, but there was no way I’d be able to get the hem of the blouse inside the waistband. I opted for a pullover that came to a few inches below the skirt’s waist. I put on my sandals and looked in the mirror. My hair really needed some help. I was in the bathroom brushing it out when Carrie called me for breakfast.
Carrie smiled when I came into the kitchen. She gestured toward the table and watched as I sat down. There was just a little hitch in my movement as I remembered what I’d read about smoothing your skirt as you sit down. Carrie’s smile switched to one of amusement, but she said nothing. She placed a cup of freshly poured coffee in front of me and leaned in for a quick kiss.
“You don’t have any makeup on.”
“No, I’ve only worn makeup that once on New Year’s, and you did that for me. I really don’t have a clue as to how to go about doing makeup.” I wasn’t about to admit that I’d experimented while she was out.
She sat, and we tucked into the French toast she’d prepared.
As she speared a couple of slices off the plate in the middle of the table, she said, “Well, for around the house, there’s no need for much. Just a little lipstick and mascara. You’ve done that much yourself… and maybe a touch of blush, but not much. You’re lucky; being an ash blonde you don’t have a five o’clock shadow to hide. What I did for New Year’s was for an evening out. You always go a little more dramatic for that. I’ll give you a quick refresher course after we eat.”
So with Carrie watching, I put on mascara. I got the right eye good on the first try, but the left eye was a bit more challenging. I’m decidedly right-handed, but try as I would, I couldn’t get my right hand twisted around to do the left side. I need to do it with my left hand. That hand is so uncoordinated that it took two tries, and then I had to carefully wipe some off my lower lid. As before, lipstick was a breeze. Then she handed me the blush and talked me through the application. What an eye opener. It seemed counterintuitive, but it involved putting it on and removing most of it with a large fluffy brush. It seemed to me that it all came off, but looking in the mirror, some of it must have remained because my cheekbones were quite noticeable.
“There,” she said, “now you can do that for yourself whenever you dress. Don’t you think it looks good? It certainly takes the edge off any residual man tell-tales in your appearance.”
I studied my reflection in the long mirror on the back of the door. She was right. With what Janet had done with my hair, the top and skirt, the makeup did do away with the masculine look that I always thought I had. And it wasn’t really that much. The cross-dressing makeover videos I’d watched on YouTube were way overkill.
Makeup became part of my routine after that. I never dressed without at least mascara and lipstick and on the weekends, I added the blush. The mascara became easier as my left hand learned the muscle memory to do it. The only drawback was I always spent some time admiring my handiwork.
I still went with pants of some kind after work, but on the weekend, I did wear the skirts and even the two dresses. That was definitely a new experience. I had become deft at doing up my bra behind my back, but doing a zipper on a dress was more of a challenge. I solved it with the use of a bobby pin. While the zipper pulls were tiny, they did have a small hole in the end and I found that I could fit a bobby pin through that hole and then, with a little contorting, I could pull the waist of the dress down as I pushed the zipper up, and then pulling the dress up at the shoulder I could get a hold on the bobby pin to pull it up while pulling the waist back down. Remove the bobby pin and set it aside for when I needed it to get out of the dress.
By Patricia Marie Allen
Chapter 13
Moving on
Time flew by. It was a blur of underdressing, changing outer wear and full femme weekends. My masculine interests didn’t completely lay fallow. There were still plenty of weekend baseball games on the tube. I did manage a little fishing. Carrie had seen to it that I had several pair of women’s jeans and flannel shirts as well as a woman’s coat that would pass for men’s wear at first glance. So I didn’t get out of cross-dressing that weekend. I only went once… it just wasn’t the same without Mike along. Lisa still didn’t want to let him out of her sight any more than she had to. That meant mostly work only.
Life at work took a real turn to make it total emersion. Carrie found several slacks and blazers all with buttons on the distaff side. Combine them with moleskin blouses cut in the Oxford style (Ralph Lauren knock offs) and an assortment of women’s ties from Esty and there I am totally cross-dressed at work. Some of the other guys in my department adopted a similar look, but to my practiced eye, none of them were wearing anything off the woman’s rack.
The Fourth of July showed up and that demonstrated that Lisa was loosening up a bit. She informed Carrie that since we did the Memorial Day barbeque, they were hosting the Fourth of July. We should come over around noon and stay for the fireworks. Their house was on the hill overlooking Oaks Park and their backyard had an excellent view of the fireworks there.
Carrie went into over drive to figure out what women’s clothes I could wear there that wouldn’t be too warm. As it turned out, the Fourth temps were in the mid-eighties, so I went with a polo shirt and some knee length shorts. Oh Carrie got me a new pair of Crocs. They were Classic Crocs Printed Camo Slides… in blue camo. While they were still unisex, the two shades of light blue that jumped out at you certainly, in my view, took the “manly” out of the camo and shoved it perilously close to feminine. But Carrie said that if questioned we could defend them as being a way to go along with my quest to recapture my youth and as I said, they were unisex.
“Hi guys,” Mike said, as he opened the door. He looked me up and down, with a practiced eye and grinned. He leaned in and said softly, “Like your outfit.” He then turned and called out, “Alex and Carrie are here.”
He ushered us to the kitchen where Lisa was putting the finishing touches on a condiment tray. Carrie went over and gave her a light hug.
“Thanks for inviting us,” Carrie told her.
“Totally self-serving, I promise you. I need some help in the kitchen. If you can’t cook it on a grill, then it’s women’s work.” She shot Mike a sour look.
I’ll have to admit that was his attitude. It had been mine too coming out of school. But it didn’t take Carrie long to dissuade me of that. I got to know her folks and it turned out that Frank, while totally self-taught, was pretty much a gourmet cook and what’s more, he cleaned up after himself. I bonded with him in the kitchen. As I mentioned before, they would host the family dinners and Frank was the chief architect of those meals. He was the baker of the family and did all the pies for Christmas and Thanksgiving as well as cakes for birthdays; all from scratch. That’s not to say that Marie, Carrie’s mother, couldn’t cook. While Frank did a lot of cooking, Marie cooked a fair bit and could turn out a fine meal on her own. But for holidays, Carrie and I didn’t let her take the entire burden. When it became clear that Frank’s health was declining, I took it upon myself to learn how to make pies. I never did learn the cakes from scratch, pies I mastered and now it was my turn to bake for family meals.
Carrie pitched in and set to work cutting up vegies for a vegetable tray. Carrie had told me that it was hot dogs and baked beans for lunch, and that we were to provide that and Lisa would have potato salad and the hamburgers for dinner.
Mike watch sheepishly as I pulled the Bush’s Baked Beans out of the grocery bag we’d brought and availed myself of their electric can opener. After I had them in a bowl, I turned to Mike. I wanted to draw him in without embarrassing him. Mike insisted on a genuine charcoal grill while I preferred gas.
“Let’s get the grill fired up. I got Hillshire Farms Kielbasa dogs and we’ll want to cook them over a low heat.”
I had been in the charcoal camp, until one year we went camping in the summer during a drought and there were no open fires allowed because of the fire danger. So a guy at work suggested I check out the camp gas grill at Lowe’s. That was years ago. You can’t even buy the one I got now. It’s a single burner, about the size of a small suitcase and can be powered by one of those small propane bottles. I could go on and on about the virtue of that barbeque. Suffice to say that was a turning point in my camping gear. Gone was the Coleman Fuel and pump up appliances I grew up with and I went totally propane.
Out on the patio Mike and I loaded up the Webber with genuine charcoal, no briquettes for Mike. A little starter fluid and a touch of a match; the usual “Whoosh” when the fluid caught. Now there’s a smell I don’t miss. The odor of that starting fluid as it burns off. That’s why it’s important that you start the grill well in advance of when you want to cook on it. If you’re dumb enough to throw something over the fire while it’s still burning off the starter fluid, whatever you cook will taste like the smell.
We each took a beer out of the cooler and watched the flames start to die down.
Mike grinned and said, “You’re kind of pushing it with those sandals, aren’t you?”
I looked down and pretended innocence.
“What? They’re unisex Crocs.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, “I love them. That light blue camo kind of grabs you. Kind of flamboyant don’t you think?”
I gave up the pretense.
“I know. Carrie thought it was a good time to push the envelope a little. They really are unisex, but my old male ego wouldn’t have let me wear them, but now… with a little nudge from Carrie and well… I am wearing them. Do you think Lisa will question them?”
“If she does, I hope you and Carrie are prepared to defend your choice.”
“I think the way to handle it is to take head on.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been reading up on Trans interaction with the public. It seems to be the consensus of opinion that if you act like you belong where you are, doing what you’re doing, then the people around you are far more likely to accept it. I think I’ll brag about my new sandals and ask Lisa what she thinks of them. That’ll put her on the spot. She’ll either have to accept them as OK or tell me what a bad mistake buying them was. Either way, it’s out in the open and the fear of her reaction is gone.”
Mike looked at me with just a bit of doubt.
“I’ll give Carrie a heads up,” I went on. “I’m sure that I can get her to admit that she bought them for me; which is the truth. She just called me into the office computer, showed me the picture of them and without asking me what I thought, she ordered them.”
“Ok, that’ll take the heat off of you and put it on Carrie. You think she’ll be OK with that?”
“Yeah, we talked about it when I questioned if the color wasn’t just a little over the top. Remember, she’s out to convince Lisa that she’s OK with me expressing a feminine side.”
We soon had the dogs ready to go and when we called, the girls brought out the side dishes and we all tucked in.
“Where has the year gone?” I offered as a conversation starter when we sat at their picnic table. “It seems like last week we were hosting Memorial Day’s Barbeque and here we are at the Fourth of July.”
“I guess we’ve all been busy,” Mike speculated.
“Well, I’ve been busy,” Carrie pointed out. “What with Alex trying to recapture his youth, we’ve had to do a lot of shopping. His wardrobe has been almost totally revamped.”
“It’s not easy for a guy my age to be young. I need all the help I can get. But you’ve been super about helping, Carrie.
“Why just last week, she found these sandals online and ordered them for me. Hey Lisa, you’ve got a keen eye for fashion. What do you think of these?” I held up a foot. “Pretty cool, huh? Not exactly something a conservative stick in the mud would wear.”
Lisa looked at them and arched her eyebrow.
“I’d say not. Carrie, you bought them for him?”
“Yeah, I decided to get some from Zappos online. With all the shopping we’ve done we still hadn’t seen anything that wasn’t a rerun of what he already had. Aside from a new pair of dress shoes I got him for Christmas, Alex hasn’t had new shoes in two years. His old sandals were from four years ago. I personally like them. It’s a whole new look for him.”
And that was it. Lisa couldn’t really say too much. She’d always pretty much thought that Carrie had good taste and they’d often collaborated on determining each other’s wardrobe to stay in fashion.
We pretty much wasted the afternoon, playing hearts and sipping beer. We talked about inconsequential things. Carrie and Lisa talked about what they’d heard about mutual friends while Mike and I talked sports. There were some really good games coming up.
Long about 6:30, we fired up the grill again while Carrie and Lisa went in to the kitchen to prep the burgers for the grill. At seven, we sat down to some really great burgers. Mike and I had been hunting last September and we each had bagged a dear. Mike had a way of turning dry ground venison into really tasty hamburger. It’s actually simple. You just mix in one part sweet pork sausage with two parts ground venison. That results in a really tasty burger. Top it with some extra sharp white cheddar and various condiments; it’s a meal fit for a king.
As we were watching the fireworks, conversation dragged a bit. Mostly the occasional comment on a particular display. When the grand finale was over, Carrie and I began packing up to leave. One good thing about going to Mike and Lisa’s is that we were a fair bit away from the crowds so there’d be no traffic jam to deal with.
As we were saying our goodbyes, Carrie brought up the next outing we wanted to do.
“You know, the Highland Games are in two weeks. We all planed on going this year. I’m looking into where to get kilts for us. You guys are still going, right?”
That caught Lisa off guard. She looked at Mike and it was evident that mixed emotions were playing in her head. She finally softened just a little.
“I know we all said, we’d go this year, but…”
Carrie interrupted, “Really, you guys have to go. We’ve talked about for years. What with the strong Scottish ancestry in both our families, it’s almost criminal that we haven’t been before.”
“Well I suppose we could go, but I don’t think that Mike should wear a kilt.”
I could sense that there was a bit of frost in the statement.
“Well, at least wear some sort of tartan clothes. I’ve looked up the clan tartan online for both of our families I’ll send you the link for the Stewart tartan.”
With that we left. I was a bit down because of Lisa’s point-blank declaration that Mike wouldn’t be in a kilt.
“I was afraid of that,” Carrie said. “I was hoping that because of the commitment last year she’d relent and do the kilt thing.”
“I know, I can’t say I’m surprised, but I am disappointed. Even before this cross-dressing issue came up I was looking forward to exploring my Scottish heritage.”
“Well, we still will, even if Mike won’t be able to join us.”
Chapter 14
Highland Games
A week later, there was a package on the porch when I came home from work. It was addressed to Carrie, from some clothing outlet online. I brought it in and left it on the table. In the bedroom, I began my nightly routine of ditching the butch women’s clothes I wore for work (yes, everything I wore to work these days was 100% women’s – slacks, oxford shirt [blouse], trouser socks and my “Italian” loafers. All women’s) and going total femme.
Carrie came in as I was sitting at her vanity, doing my mascara.
“Oh good, you’re wearing a skirt. You need to try this on,” she said as she laid a plaid skirt on the bed.
I glanced over at it. “What’s that?”
“It’s a kilt. OK, not a true Scottish kilt, but it will do.”
I finished up and quickly did my lipstick. I took off the pleated grey skirt that had been my favorite. The kilt on the bed was a wraparound affair. I fumbled with it a bit but got it on. There was a huge safety pin that held the flap back just above the knee. It fit pretty well, but it was a bit loose in the hips.
“That will require a little alteration. We’ll lose the safety pin and replace it with a leather buckle and maybe take in the hips a bit. Wait here a minute.”
She went to her craft room and came back with an odd sort of thing. It looked a bit like an over the shoulder purse but it was covered with some sort of fur on one side.
“What’s that?” I wanted to know.
“It’s a homemade sporran,” she said as she unhooked one end of the strap and looped it around my waist. She fiddled with it a bit and it ended up hanging in front of my groin, fur side out. “I made it from one of my old purses. I added some faux fur to the front and it looks pretty much like a real sporran.”
She showed me how to open it. It had a magnetic catch so it was easy.
“You’ll need something to carry your wallet and keys in. And in keeping with the women’s clothes only theme you’ve been doing, it’s apropos that it’s really a purse.
“All I need now is the right blouse and a waistcoat and your Highland Games outfit will be complete.”
Somehow, I felt a little uneasy about it all. Carrie was working toward me being out in public wearing a skirt, albeit a kind of kilt. But no doubt it was a woman’s kilt or maybe just a skirt that looks like a kilt.
“Is this really a Scottish kilt?”
“Well, no. I said it wasn’t. I couldn’t get a true Scottish kilt over here without paying as much in shipping as the kilt cost and the cheapest kilt was over a hundred dollars. I got yours and mine both for less than that. The tartan is a close match to the real Douglas tartan.”
“Yours and mine?”
“Yes, we’ll be in matching kilts. I’ll leave the safety pin in mine and take up the hem a little. You see yours hits you right at the knee; mine will end up about two inches above my knee. Oh don’t look so worried. Everyone at the games will be expecting you in a kilt and won’t think anything of it. For a husband and wife to wear matching tartan is expected. With yours being a traditional length and mine more of a mini, that’ll be enough to squelch the idea that they are both women’s kilts. Trust me, it’ll be fine.”
In her mind it was a done deal. That weekend, I got a look at the final product. My shoes were some odd woman’s flats in black. Along with that, I was wearing knee socks that folded over a garter that had a bit of matching tartan sticking down on the outside. My top was a cotton/polyester blend with a built-in ascot type collar and over that was a black vest with a red and green skinny striped plaid pattern in it. And I wore a Scottish tam for a hat. It looked a bit like a plaid beret. I’m sure it was a woman’s hat.
Carrie showed me a picture of a man in an outfit that looked much the same. I can’t say it made me feel a lot better. I’d still be out in public in a skirt and blouse, but there was no reasoning with Carrie.
We went by Mike and Lisa’s to pick them up. I sent Carrie up to the door while I waited in the car. I was afraid that my outfit was a bit over the top and if Lisa saw it she’d freak out and refuse to go.
When they came out, Mike was wearing plaid pants and a white short-sleeve shirt. Lisa had on a tartan vest that kind of matched Mike’s pants. I doubt that either of the plaids was the true Stewart tartan any more than ours was the Douglas tartan. Ours was close I think.
At the games, we found a parking spot only about six blocks away. To say I was nervous getting out of the car would be putting it mildly. Remembering my practice with my pleated skirt, I swiveled my knees out of the car and stood up without much fanfare. I did notice that Lisa kind of gave Carrie and me a hard look.
Carrie’s vest was navy blue with white piping. But her blouse was pretty much the same as mine and our shoes were similar not to mention the knee socks. The real difference was that she carried an obvious purse rather that a purse disguised as a sporran.
By the time we got to the games and through the gates I began to feel a bit better, as I’d seen a couple of guys with similar outfits, though I doubted that any of them were wearing the women’s version of any of it, much less panties and cami under, and surely none had a custom fitted push-up bra with a little extra on as well; but I did.
It was a long day. We made sure to take in the caber toss and the bag piper’s parade. We ate some traditional Scottish food. Can’t say I’m a fan of Haggis, but that may be because I asked what it was made of. But the salmon was great and the short bread was good, if a little plain. All in all, we spent about eight hours there and I thoroughly enjoyed the day. Mike seemed to enjoy himself as well. I know Carrie did and when Lisa lightened up a bit she seemed to enjoy herself. I did catch her eyeing some of the well-muscled guys at the caber toss and other athletic events. I think she had a few impure thoughts about them. It didn’t seem to bother her that they were wearing kilts and that certainly didn’t detract from their masculinity.
We’d planned to pick up some fish and chips on the way home and have dinner a Mike and Lisa’s, so we stopped and sent the girls in to get the food. It was the first time that Mike and I had been alone together not counting our trips to the toilets through the day.
“You doing it again?” Mike wanted to know.
“You mean the women’s clothes?”
“Yeah. I’m betting that everything you have on is off the women’s rack.”
“True. I was a bit nervous at first but after getting a look at the guys at the games, I don’t think what I have on was out of place.”
“That’s true, but that white top under your vest matches what Carrie is wearing pretty closely.”
“That’s not all,” I told him. “The kilts aren’t true kilts they are women faux kilt skirts. Matching skirts until Carrie altered them. Our underwear is matching as well.”
Mike just shook his head.
“Out in public in a skirt and blouse and your wife right there. You do know that you’re living the cross-dresser’s dream. Have you gone out totally en femme?”
“Ah, no, not exactly. I’ve always gone butch enough that anyone wouldn’t notice without close scrutiny.”
“You could, you know. With your long hair and a little make up you could trot around in a skirt or dress and no one would pay any attention.”
Just then the girls exited the shop with our dinner.
By Patricia Marie Allen
Chapter 15
Unveiling our plot
Inside at Mike and Lisa’s, we ate at their kitchen table. While eating, we talked about all the things we saw at the games. After, we retired to their family room with coffee. Lisa watched me as I sat down. Without thinking, I smoothed the skirt ah kilt under me with one hand and pulled my legs back and to the side, crossing them at the ankle. She sat opposite me.
“You know Alex, that you really have handling that kilt down. I’d say you were as adept at it as a woman with many years of experience. Not once today did you come close to flashing your underwear.”
“He’s been practicing,” Carrie put in.
“Practicing? How much practice could he have gotten? On the fourth you said you were looking into getting kilts. Even if you managed to get one the next day, that would only have given him two weeks, and he couldn’t practice the whole time. He does have a job.”
“True, but I thought it would be a good idea for him to gain some experience prior to spending the money on a kilt only to find out he was a complete dufus when it came to managing the thing.”
Lisa raised her eyebrows questioningly.
“I have a pleated skirt the same length as that kilt, so I had him wearing it or another of my skirts every night and all weekend for about a month. When I was sure he was adept at it, I ordered our kilts.”
“You had him in your skirts?”
“Sure, they’re just clothes. I even had him try on blouses because I knew that I’d have a hard time coming up with a traditional Scottish men’s top for the games.”
“You mean the top he has on now is a…a blouse?”
“Matching mine. I thought we should match as much as possible.”
Lisa eyed me up and down; then looked at Carrie the same way.
“Well, you certainly did a good job of that; the only way you could match more would be to wear matching underwear.” She speared Carrie with a challenging look.
Carrie just sat there with a smug look on her face. It was a stare down. Lisa blinked first.
“You didn’t. He’s not really… is he?”
Carrie looked at me as I glanced at Mike. His eyes were as big as saucers. He knew this was it. Carrie was ready to unveil our plot.
“What if we did? It’s just clothes. If he likes it, then there’s no harm, no foul. I’m good with it.”
“But really,” she paused to look me over again, “that would make him a cross-dresser.” She turned her hard gaze to me. “What were you and Mike, girlie boys back in middle school? He told me he’s been doing it since before you guys met.”
“I knew nothing about cross-dressing except that it existed before you came over to complain to Carrie about Mike. I certainly didn’t know that Mike was a cross-dresser before that.”
“So, how long have you been cross-dressing?”
I glanced at Carrie. “About eight months.”
“Eight months… you expect me to believe that? Why would you suddenly start cross-dressing?”
“I can answer that,” Carrie interjected. “I asked him to.”
“Why would you do that? I can’t imagine any woman asking her husband to do that.”
“Well I did. I did it because when I tried to convince you that a cross-dressing husband wasn’t really a bad thing, you claimed that if it was my husband, I wouldn’t think that way. Well I was sure that I would and I felt that I needed to prove that to you. So I explained to Alex what I wanted him to do and why. I told him that if he would try it and like it, then I could prove to you that my opinion about cross-dressing was valid and that maybe if you could see that I was really OK with it, you’d lighten up on Mike.”
Lisa sat there doing an imitation of a goldfish. She looked back and forth between Carrie and me.
“Lisa,” I said softly, “don’t you realize that Mike is miserable since you demanded that he give it up?” She just looked at me a moment and then looked at Mike. Mike nodded his head slowly. “If you’d take the time to do some online research, you’d see that asking Mike to quit would be like asking an eagle not to fly. Flying is at the core of what an eagle is. And Mike, as a cross-dresser is like that; cross-dressing is at the core of who Mike is. Again, if you looked online objectively, you’d find out that the incidence of homosexuality is slightly less, about four percent, amongst cross-dressers than it is in the general population, about four point seven percent.
“I’ll admit that before Carrie started me on this harebrained scheme of hers, I would have had no idea what a hold cross-dressing would have on him. Now that I’ve tasted the fruit, I don’t think I could ever go back.”
“Don’t you see that Mike loves you and wants to stay married to you?” Carrie asked.
“That’s why he’s going to the shrink, to be able to stay with you. Mike, would you be willing to share what the counselor’s views are about it?”
Mike looked at me panicked.
“He said he could cure you, didn’t he Mike?” Lisa wanted to know.
Mike stammered a bit, then said, “Actually no, he didn’t. He said we could explore my motivations and that he could help me understand myself better. He said that whether I’d stop or not would be a decision I’d have to make down the road after I had a better understanding of what cross-dressing meant to me.”
“But I wanted you to see him so he could cure you… help you to stop wanting to do it.”
Carrie offered softly, “Lisa, therapy doesn’t work that way. A therapist can only help a person to understand themselves and do what they themselves need to do to keep their sanity.”
“I looked it up. Among transgender people, cross-dressers are included in transgender, 98% of those who have experienced negativity from others have suicidal thoughts and 51% actually attempt suicide. Whereas only point five percent of the actual population have attempted suicide.”
“Mike, have you ever thought about suicide,” Lisa asked, obviously alarmed.
Mike hung his head.
“Yes, when you caught me and started screaming about how you couldn’t trust me, and then you talked about divorce, and then you stormed out of the house,” he said softly. “I went to my gun cabinet and opened it. I loaded my 270 and figured out how to reach the trigger with the barrel in my mouth. But I chickened out an ended up falling on the floor and crying.”
“You actually put the barrel in your mouth and were going to pull the trigger?”
Mike didn’t look up but nodded.
“Oh my God, Mike,” Lisa said as she enveloped him in a hug.
That confession from Mike took us all by surprise. I knew the statistics, but you know how it is, those kinds of things happen to other people, not you and not your friends. But looking at Mike with tears running down his cheeks put a face on those statistics.
Lisa was crying too.
“What can we do, honey? I don’t want you to die.”
Mike found his voice again. “The therapist is helping. I’ve come to understand that cross-dressing isn’t just a part of me and neither good nor bad; it just is. But thinking of you leaving me has had me in a funk that I couldn’t get out of.”
“Do we need to give your guns to Alex for safekeeping?”
Mike shook his head no. “If I did get suicidal, there are plenty of ways to do it that don’t involve guns.”
“You’re not still considering it. are you?”
“Not really, though I do think about it whenever you go all hardline and tell me how you won’t put up with...”
“How about if I promise not to leave you and to work with you to come to an understanding? Maybe I could talk to your therapist and find out what I could do to help you cope.”
Carrie stood and put her hand on Lisa’s shoulder.
“It looks like you guys need to talk. Alex and I will let ourselves out so you can work through this in private.”
Lisa looked as if she was surprised we were there.
“Thank you guys for caring enough to do this. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any grief.”
“No worries. We were glad to do what we could.”
As we walked out, I looked back at Mike, and gave him a thumbs-up. He nodded.
Chapter 16
A surprise visit
It was the third weekend in August. Carrie had yet to convince me that I could go out and about dressed and not cause a scene. Though it was on my mind a lot, I knew that one day I would, but I just couldn’t work up the cojones for it. Carrie had, a little at a time, picked up some things to augment my feminine wardrobe. As a matter-of-fact, she was out on this Saturday doing just that. I opted to stay home and practice walking in the two-and-a-half inch heels she’d ordered from an online store. These weren’t the wide-heeled thing that my sandals were; no, these were spikes. OK, not in the classic sense; the heel was only about half an inch wide and did take some effort to keep the wobble out of my step.
To that end, I was traversing the hallway from the front room to the kitchen and back. I was on my fourth lap and had just taken two or three steps toward the kitchen when behind me, I heard, “Knock, knock” and the front door open.
I spun around to see Mike standing in the doorway. It hadn’t been unusual for us to do that at each other’s houses. He came in grinning. I was in full makeup, Carrie insisted that I should become proficient at the art. I was wearing a lightweight summer dress with a halter top and a full knee-length skirt.
Mike stepped and closed the door. “Oh God, Alex, you look so perfect. I’m jealous.”
I was near panic.
“Is Lisa with you?”
“No, she called Carrie and found out she was at the mall and went off to have lunch with her. She said something about needing to talk to another cross-dresser’s wife.”
That put my mind at ease, though it would take some time for my heart rate to confirm that.
“Does she know you’re here? I mean, you’re not going to get in trouble for going off the reservation, are you?”
“Actually, she suggested that I come over here. I really want to thank you for going along with Carrie’s crazy scheme… it worked. Lisa followed through with the idea of talking to my therapist. Yesterday was her third visit with him. Her attitude has really softened.”
I had to sit. My body was tingling all over.
“Let’s go into the kitchen and get a cold one.”
Mike followed me in, and I got us each Coors, and we sat across the table from each other.
“I love that dress. Your makeup is great too. It’s not overdone. Did Carrie do it for you?”
“No, she says I need to learn to do it myself, so I practice every weekend. But tell me more about Lisa’s attitude change.”
“Well, it’s not a 180-degree change, but she’s softened. That suicide statistic you quoted got to her, especially since the therapist backed it up. Lisa says she now realizes that cross-dressing isn’t something I choose to do, but something that I need to do. She’s allowed me to tell her a little of the history. You know, I started when I was nine, and really, up until she caught me, I hadn’t gone more than a month or so without. The longest time was when I was in the service. Even then, on leave, I often headed to the nearest thrift shop to buy a dress and a nighty. Then, to a discount shop for bra and panties. I’d spend much of my leave time in drag. Never daring to go out of my hotel room. High and tight isn’t exactly a feminine hairstyle.”
“She really suggested you come over here, knowing that Carrie was at the mall?”
“Yeah, she told me that while she’s not ready to see me dressed up, she now realizes that I need to. Her idea is that maybe once or twice a month, since you’ve become a cross-dresser too, that maybe I could come over here and could have some girl time. She suggested that I could buy some things and maybe you and Carrie would let me store them here.”
“Subject to Carrie’s approval, I don’t think that would be a problem.”
Just then, my phone rang with Carrie’s ringtone.
“Hi hon,” I answered.
“Hi, Lisa called me and we met for lunch. I thought I should warn you that Mike is probably on his way over.”
“Too late. He’s already here.”
“Were you still wearing what you were when I left?”
“Yeah, just like old times, he let himself in and saw me in all my glory.”
“How’d he take it?”
“He likes the outfit, and he’s jealous.”
Carrie laughed and said, “I’ll bet; you’re looking pretty good today. Did you know I took a picture of you?”
“No, when did you do that?”
“When you were at the mirror in the bedroom. It’s a great picture. The reflection shows a full-frontal view, while it shows the full-back as well. I wanted it to be candid so I turned the flash off on my phone.”
Then I remembered that she had told me early on that the only people besides us who might see the pictures she had of me would be Lisa and maybe by extension, Mike.
“Look, with what Lisa’s been telling me, I was wondering how you would feel about them having dinner with us tonight. We’ve got that big pot of stew on. You have been keeping an eye on it haven’t you?”
“Yeah, it’s down on simmer, and I stir it every hour or so.”
“Good, well we always have a lot left over, so there’ll be plenty to go around.”
“It’s fine by me.”
I heard her away from the phone. “So what do you say Lisa; dinner at our house tonight?”
A muffled answer that sounded like, “Sure,” and something else I couldn’t make out.
“Great,” and the back on the phone to me. “Lisa just confirmed that she wants to come over.”
“Call me when you get ready to head home, I’ll change into something more androgynous.”
“No need. The first thing she asked me when we sat down to eat was if you were still cross-dressing. I told her that you were and showed her that picture I just told you about and told her that it was what you were wearing when I left the house. She surmised from my end of the conversation that Mike caught you wearing it, and just now she told me that you shouldn’t change, because she’d like to see it in person.”
I was stunned.
“But Mike just told me that while she’s softened her stance, that she wasn’t ready to see him dressed.”
“Not him, maybe, but apparently she’s OK with seeing you.”
“OK, but I’m not sure I’m ready for her to see me.”
“She saw you at the Highland Games. And you know that sooner or later, you’ll need to be seen. Besides, you need someone objective to offer an opinion of how you look.” Then I could hear some shuffling, and she said in a lowered voice, “It’s good for her as well. If she can be around you and learn to be comfortable, then perhaps she’ll come to be able to see Mike.”
“OK, I’ll suck it up. I’ll be uncomfortable though. I’ll do it as part of our plan to help Mike.”
We ended the call with me still unsure I liked the idea of Lisa seeing me. Mike had been sitting, listening the whole time.
“Sounds like Lisa’s coming over here.”
“Yeah, you guys are going to help us eat this stew,” I said, getting up to give the pot a stir.
“Good, I’ve been smelling it since we sat down. It smells delicious.”
I was feeling really uncomfortable about being fully en femme around Mike, but for the same reason that I started this, I resolved to stick it out. The way I was feeling now, I couldn’t fathom how much that would amplify when Lisa got here. At least Mike was a kindred spirit, while Lisa had, not so long ago, been hostile toward the idea of cross-dressing. On a small level, I regretted ever starting down this road, though I had to acknowledge that now that I was this far down the road, I wouldn’t turn back even if I could. My feminine side had grown too strong to let that happen.
Mike pulled me out of dismal thoughts when he asked, “That’s a new dress. What else do you have that’s new?”
I stuck a foot out beside the table.
“These shoes. I’ve had them about a week.”
“I thought they had to be new. I don’t remember seeing anything like them in your closet. You walk in them pretty well, considering you’ve only had them a week, or are they not your first pair of heels?”
“No, they’re my first pair of real heels. I’ve worn them every evening since I got them. I still have to think about how to put my foot down, but the muscle memory is getting there. I can walk in them and chew gum at the same time.” I grinned at my attempt at humor.
Mike and I were in the bedroom surveying the recent additions to my wardrobe when Carrie and Lisa showed up. I heard them talking as they came in. My heart stopped. I had finally managed to get used to being in a dress around Mike, but now Lisa was here. Trying hard to breathe normally, I turned to Mike.
“I’ve got to use the can,” I told him, and turned on my heel and went to the master bath. I shut the door and collapsed onto the commode. I was very near to having a panic attack. I don’t know how long I sat there. I was holding my head in my hands when I heard a soft tapping at the door.
“Alex?” Carrie said softly. “Can I come in?”
My voice was shaky, but I managed a weak, “Yes.”
“You gonna, … What’s wrong?”
“Lisa is out there.”
“Well yeah, you knew she was coming.”
“I know, I know. But … but I’m near panic thinking about her seeing me like this.”
“She and I had a long talk about cross-dressing. You’ll be surprised at how her mindset has changed. She’s trying really hard to do what’s best for Mike. We set out to help Mike, but it’s gone beyond what we thought it would. Now, to help Mike, we have to help Lisa come to grips with men in dresses. You’re the only one she knows besides Mike, and she’s still too fragile to see him. She’s prepared to see you, and if she can come to treat you as normal, then there’s hope that Mike will one day have the freedom to dress that you do.”
She took me by the hands and stood me up and wrapped me in a hug. It was a calming influence. It took a few minutes, but we soon went out to the living room hand in hand. Lisa’s gaze did nothing to ease my nerves. Carrie gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
“Alex, you… you look incredible. Your picture doesn’t do you justice. I’d have never guessed you… You could go anywhere and do anything, and no one would blink an eye.” She then looked at Carrie and said, “You were right Carrie, he, or should I say she, is perfect.”
I was dumbfounded by her statements.
“Do a little turn for her, Alex, so she can see all sides,” Carrie told me.
So I did the turn, not quite a pirouette, more shuffling in a circle, but she saw both sides and the back. I was feeling like a specimen on display. I think Carrie was attuned to my discomfort.
“I don’t know about you guys, but the smell of that stew is getting to me. What say we chow down? Alex, why don’t you set the table while I pour the drinks.”
Carrie and I busied ourselves in the kitchen, and in short order, we were seated around the dining room table. Feeling a bit awkward yet, I tucked right in and didn’t say much… or at least that’s what I wanted to do. The problem with eating while everyone else is talking is that you get done first. Then not having anything to do, but join in the conversation.
“Carrie tells me that you do a thing called underdressing at work,” Lisa said, looking at me.
“Ah… yeah. I find women’s underwear more comfortable than men’s.”
“The bra is comfortable?”
I threw a look at Carrie. ’God, she must have told Lisa every little detail.’ I don’t know if it was my look, or if Carrie was just joining into the conversation, but she came to my rescue.
“Well, Alex had them custom fitted.”
Lisa raised her eyebrows.
“One of my old high school friends owns a lingerie shop and is trans friendly. She has lots of male customers who buy for themselves. When Alex got to the point of wanting to wear a bra, but felt self-conscious about stuffing it, I contacted her, and we measured him and ordered some 36A pushup bras.”
“I haven’t had a bra fitting since we were married. The shop where I bought my gown also sold wedding lingerie. They insisted on fitting me rather than letting me just tell them what size I wanted. As I remember, my bras fit a lot better after that. But you know, not so much anymore. Maybe I should get fitted again.”
“Ann has lots of women customers as well. I’m sure she’d be glad to do a fitting for you. Come to think of it’s been years since I was fitted as well. Maybe the next time we’re out, we can stop by and get fitted at the same time.”
“So what was it like getting fitted for a bra, Alex?” Lisa pulled me back into the conversation.
“Definitely weird. I had no idea just how complicated it was to buy a bra. I’m betting very few cross-dressers have any idea until they get brave enough to be fitted themselves.”
Thankfully, she turned her attention to Mike.
“I’m sure you’re jealous Mike. I bet you’d like to go get fitted for a bra.”
Mike looked down at the table. I’m sure he wasn’t really used to talking with Lisa about this kind of thing.
“Well, if I’m going to be allowed to come over here and dress, I will need to pick up some underthings.”
“What do you say, Alex? Would you take Mike over to this place and introduce him to Carrie’s friend?”
’Augh… the ball is in my court again.’
“Yeah sure, anytime he wants.”
“Since everyone is in agreement that Mike can get his cross-dressing fix here, I’m sure he’d like to make it sooner than later,” Carrie observed. “Why don’t you guys head over there right now? Ann is open until eight on Saturdays.”
“OK, I’ll just go change my clothes.”
“No need for that, honey. Ann already knows all about you, and you know that the next step in your journey is to get out in public. What better place to do that than someplace where the owner of the shop knows you and you’re assured of being accepted?
“Mike, would you feel uncomfortable going with Alex dressed as he is?”
Mike was a little too quick to answer.
“Not at all. I’ve already told Alex that in that outfit he looks great.”
“Lisa, I bought Alex a dozen pairs of undies and matching camis. Ann’s prices are quite reasonable.”
“A dozen sounds about right to me. Mike, would that be enough for you too?”
Mike’s face showed utter amazement. I’m betting he never had more than two or three pairs before.
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
Nothing would do, but we leave right then.
By Patricia Marie Allen
Ann did a double take.
“Alex? Oh yes, it is you. My, you look great. I knew you would.
“It’s been some time since you’ve been in. What can I do for you this evening?”
“I’ve brought a new customer.”
Mike had stopped just inside the door. His eyes were roaming the shop. I suspect he’d never actually been in a lingerie shop.
Ann looked at Mike and smiled.
“Is this … your friend?”
“Yes, Ann, this is Mike; Mike, Ann Murdock, Carrie’s friend.”
Suddenly Mike looked nervous. Ann walked over to him and put out her hand.
“Any friend of Alex is a friend of mine.”
Mike looked at her hand numbly. After a noticeable pause, he shook her hand.
“So, you’re the customer today.”
“Ah, yeah.”
Ann picked up on Mike’s nervousness.
“Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,” she said as she put a hand on Mike’s back and guided him farther into the shop. “No need to be nervous. This shop is known for our Transgender friendly policy. As you can see, we carry every piece of lingerie imaginable.”
Mike swiveled his head around. Then he tried to make light of the situation.
“And, it seems a few that are unimaginable,” he said, looking at a complex back brace on a mannequin.
“Unless you have some back problems, I doubt you’ll need anything like that. However, if you think you’d like to try a corset, we do have a full line of them.”
“I think Mike would like to start off with just the basics. Panties, camisoles, slips and bras. I told him about my special-order bras that I wear to work and other times when I’m not totally en femme.”
“So, a bra fitting is in order. Let’s get that out of the way and then you can peruse the rest of the shop.”
With that she maneuvered him to the fitting rooms. He looked at me and I just nodded my head. When they had disappeared down the short hall, I looked around. In the times I’d been here, I never really got any idea of what her inventory actually consisted of. The first time, when I thought we were just going to slip in, buy a nightgown and slip out, Carrie and Ann kind of railroaded me into the bra I had on and the breast forms I’d come to love. The next time in was to pick up the special-order bras. I’d been in drab then and was self-conscious about being in such a feminine place so it was in and out as quickly as possible.
She had racks and racks of every kind of panties you could ever want. I was familiar with the full coverage briefs that Carrie had bought me, but they were only one of upwards of a dozen styles on display. Beyond them was a plethora of girdles, or as the sign indicated, “Shapewear.” I was wearing a padded panty girdle, but again, only a ripple in a large pond. That was the section I was drawn to. The padded panty girdle gave me a little more butt than I had naturally, but looking in the mirror, when I was wearing anything even remotely figure-hugging, my waist was too thick. Natural women worried about their butt and hips. I had the opposite problem. My stomach was too big and my hips were too small. I found the waist nipper section and began browsing. A lot of them were just stretchy spandex and I couldn’t see how that could even begin to trim my waist. The one that caught my eye was quite heavy. It would extend from the bottom of the ribcage to the top of the hip bone. Speaking of bone, there was some heavy boning. I’m sure it wasn’t real “bone” as in whalebone, which is, I’m told, what was originally used in such garments, but probably some sort of flexible metal or plastic. Down the front, was a row of hook and eye closures, like on a bra. I checked the back. There weren’t any laces, so I didn’t think it qualified as a corset, per se, but it looked like it would do the job. I doubted that it would be all that comfortable. I’d have to think about it before buying it. ‘Maybe I should ask Ann how to contact Drew’s cross-dressing group. I’m sure some of that group has tried this kind of thing.’
Just then, Ann and Mike came out of the fitting rooms.
“I’ll put in an order for three of them and call you when they come in,” Ann said.
“Ah, could you just hold on to the measurements? I think I need to talk to Lisa before I buy them. I promised no secrets and, well I don’t think she’ll be up for me underdressing, at least around her,” Mike said.
I turned and met them as they walked into the panty displays.
“Do you have any idea of what type of panty you would like?”
Mike scanned the displays and settled on some hip huggers.
“I think I’d like these. That stretch lace waistband calls to me.
“How many pairs did you say you have, Alex?”
“Twelve.”
Mike thought for a moment.
“Twelve… that’s a good number.”
“Lisa, left about a half an hour ago,” Carrie informed us as we came in carrying four bags from Ann’s Lingerie and More. “She said she was on overload and that it was better if she didn’t see what or how much Mike bought.”
“Did she seem upset?” Mike asked nervously.
“No, not really. She … well she was just overwhelmed by all of this. You know Mike, she’s really stepping outside off her comfort zone in the concessions she’s making for you.
“She and I talked for about half an hour and I told her about what kind of arrangement that Alex and I have. I showed her the pictures that I’ve taken and Alex’s wardrobe.
“I think that’s what put her over the top. She asked me why he had so much and I told her that Alex changes into something feminine when he comes home from work. She noticed that one pair of his slacks had a short zipper and that it was right over left, marking them as women’s slacks. After that, she looked over his shirts and asked if they were all really women’s shirts. I admitted that all of Alex’s clothes for work were women’s. She then said that right now Alex is a role model for you. Then she said, ‘I guess I will need to come to grips with Mike wanting to do the same.’ It was then she decided that she needed to go home before you got back.”
I put my hand on Mike’s shoulder.
“Take the small victories and tread lightly. Don’t push her; let her come around on her own at her own speed.”
“God, I hope we didn’t blow this whole thing out of the water,” Mike said.
“My advice is to put your stuff away and go home. When you get there don’t bring this up. If she wants to talk about it, let her bring it up. If and when she does, just take what little she’ll give you. If she rescinds her offer to come over and dress sometimes, take it stoically. Remind her that you love her and that you are really trying to keep this in check for her sake,” I told him.
It was about fifteen minutes later that Mike bid us farewell and headed home.
Things went back to normal for Carrie and me. We just kept on exploring just what would work for us as a cross-dressing couple. I have to admit that going with Mike to buy his lingerie while fully en femme whet my appetite. I worked really hard at trying to work up the courage to go out of the house in a dress or skirt and blouse with full make-up and all.
I went to the site where the authors post fiction about cross-dressing and trans stories. I managed to work up the courage to open an account. They did want an email; I balked at the idea of having my email account stored on a cross-dressing website. After a few moments of consideration, I opened a new window and opened a Gmail account and used it as the email. I could attach that account to my actual email and that way I could see if there was email there.
I had poked around on the site before and knew that one of the features was blog posting and that when you posted a blog, a teaser of it appeared in a column on the front page and many of the site’s users read and commented on other people’s blog entries. I had read a few of those myself.
I figured out how to make a blog entry and did an introduction. I gave a thumbnail sketch of how I came to be a cross-dresser. The next day, there were several comments welcoming me to the site, or as a lot of them referred to it, the community. It took several days of poking around the site to discover the forum. I hoped to find some discussion of clothing there, but nothing. So it was back to the blog. I posted my question about the heavily boned waist nipper.
Coming back the next day I found some comments. More than I expected. Some of them were relevant, but a lot kind of went off topic. In the end, it devolved into a discussion about passing and whether it was even desirable to pass. So no real help there.
It was two weeks after Mike and I bought his things at Ann’s when I came home from work on a Friday and saw Lisa’s car parked out front. Since Carrie doesn’t work on Friday, I wasn’t too surprised about that, though it was a bit early for Lisa, since she works on Friday. To be there at that time, she’d have had to come right from work. She only gets off about a half an hour earlier than I do and if she’d gone home first I’d have beat her here.
“Hi Hon,” I told Carrie, giving her a quick kiss. “Lisa, how you doing?”
“Fine, thank you.” There was pregnant pause; each of us expecting the other to continue or maybe for Carrie to say something. Finally, Lisa continued, “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”
“Not really, though I did notice that it’s a bit early for you.”
“Well there is that. I’m early because I arranged to take off work a bit early. I needed to talk to Carrie and I wanted to get through the bulk of the subject before you got home.”
I smiled as I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Girl talk, huh?”
“Actually, it’s more like ‘cross-dresser’s wife’ talk. Now that I’m trying to deal with Mike’s compulsion I need some guidance. I’m fairly sure that he hasn’t been over here since you two went shopping for his feminine side.”
“No, he hasn’t.”
“He’s been a bit moody of late. Not rude or anything; just in a funk. I suspected that it probably had to do with the fact he hasn’t taken advantage of his newly acquired items. What do you think?”
“That very well could be. If I were to hazard a guess, it may be that he hasn’t come over because all he has is underwear. If he had a dress or two, he might have come over. Then again, it might be that while you are making an effort to allow him a little freedom, he may be making an effort to curb his desires so as not to appear to be running rampant with the newly granted freedom.”
“Carrie and I have been discussing the underdressing thing. As you’ve pointed out, he only has underwear. I suppose I should call it ‘lingerie’, but somehow discussing my husband’s lingerie, seems a bit much.”
I smiled a bit broader as I sipped my coffee.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I wanted Carrie’s take on the underdressing thing. She tells me that you underdress 100% of the time. Is that right?”
“Well, yeah. Having the freedom to indulge as much as I want, I simply have come to prefer the feel and fit of the lingerie over men’s underwear.”
“That brings us to the second reason I’m here. I wanted to see just how that worked out in real life. That is, what you really looked like when you went to work. Would mind if I gave you a critical look over?”
“Critical?”
“I mean a serious examination. I’d like to judge the chances that people might notice that your choice of underwear is unconventional.”
“You mean what’s the likelihood that I might get some flack about wearing women’s underwear?” She nodded. I stepped away from the counter and held my arms out. “Look away. It’s not like I’ve got to hide anything from you.”
She stood and walked around me looking me up and down.
“Would you mind taking off your jacket?”
I complied and she did another circuit around me.
“What all are you wearing today? Ah, if you don’t mind telling me.”
“Not at all. Starting from the bottom; the shoes, they’re women’s flats, trouser socks, panties, cami and my special-order bra with some small inserts.”
Lisa blinked. “Small inserts?”
“Yes, something like a ‘tween girl might use to enhance her bust line.”
She studied my chest.
“I’m not sure, there seems to be something there, but it doesn’t seem to be any more than usual.”
“That may be because every time you’ve seen me since January, I’ve been wearing some breast enhancement. Either these booblettes or the full-sized ones.”
She looked a little shocked. “Really? I… I never noticed.”
“That’s because you didn’t expect there to be anything to notice,” Carrie put in. “You already knew Alex and what he looked like and you expected him to look like he always did so that’s what you saw when you looked at him.”
“People do that you know. In the first thirty seconds of meeting you, they decide if you’re male or female, and if they’re going to like you. After that, whatever their preconceived notion of what and who you are, is what they see from then on.”
Lisa looked thoughtful. “Well, I guess I’m a little taken aback. I came to catch you off guard so I could see you as you present yourself to work, assuming I’d find some evidence of what you had on underneath, but even though I know, I find it difficult to say what you’re wearing for underwear isn’t what every other man is wearing.”
“It’s nice to have an objective opinion.”
“Now comes the hard part.”
“Hard part?”
“Yeah, where I have to step a little farther outside my comfort zone. Carrie seems to think that it’s crucial that cross-dressers at least underdress on a regular basis. … Could you put together enough of Mike’s under… lingerie for him to underdress for say four or five days before he needs to wash them?”
I blinked at her.
“I’m going to take them home and set aside a place in his dresser for them and tell him he can wear them even if I’m there. I hope that he’s as adept at not letting it show as you are. He and I did finally talk and I know he has ordered those custom fit bras like you have. It’ll be a stretch for me, but I guess I’ll just have to suck it up and see if I can deal with Mike wearing a bra.”
I went to Mike’s stash and got together five sets of panties and camis for him. I found a grocery bag to put them in. I hoped that Lisa could really handle the idea of Mike underdressing.
I’d just joined Lisa and Carrie in the kitchen when my phone rang. I checked the caller ID.
“It’s Mike,” I informed them.
“Hey buddy, what’s up?”
“I’m at Ann’s Lingerie and More. My bras came in today. She tells me that you have some silicone inserts that you wear. I think I want to get some as well. Anyway, I want to stop by and drop off the bras and possibly the pads. Are you going to be home for a while?”
“Yeah, I just got home a little bit ago. Lisa’s here.”
“Oh, ah, I guess I’ll just hide them in with the spare tire and come by another time to drop them off.”
“Doesn’t Lisa know about them already?”
“Ah, yeah, she asked me what all I bought and I told her about them as well as all the lingerie."
“There’s a new development. It looks like Lisa is going to loosen up a bit more. Hang on.” I muted my phone. “Mike; he’s picking up his bras from Ann’s. He was going to bring them over and put them with his stash. If I’m reading this right, shouldn’t he just take them home?”
“He might as well. If his are as imperceptible as yours, then there’s no reason not to.”
I unmuted my phone.
“Lisa came over today to talk about underdressing and since you only have lingerie, that’s about all you can do at the moment. She had me pick out some things from your stash and… well, look, why don’t I let her tell you?” Before he could object, I handed my phone to Lisa.
“Hi Mike. I’ve been talking with Carrie and Alex and well, it’s kind of a consensus that you need a regular outlet for this … thing. So you might just as well bring your new … purchases home; I’ll be bringing some of your other things. I’m willing to let you underdress around the house even if I’m there. I’ve seen how Alex looks when he’s at work and if you can do it as stealthfully, then I think I can handle it. The only thing is you will need to work out a way that I don’t have to include them in the wash. I’m envisioning our own version of ‘don’t ask; don’t tell,’ … Oh! Thanks for telling me. Yes, go ahead and get them and bring them home as well. I’ve seen what Alex looks like with his in place; so again, if you look as natural as he does it’ll be OK. We’ll clean out that junk drawer in your dresser and you can keep all this stuff in there. … See you at home then.”
Chapter 18
Helping Mike
Lisa made her goodbyes. After she left, I looked at Carrie.
“What do you think? The way I see it, this can be the start of some good things for Mike, or it can all go south because Lisa’s overstepped her tolerance level.”
“She admits she’s still uncomfortable with this all, but she seems determined to get over her prejudice. She really does love Mike and wants the best for him. This funk he seems to be in really has her concerned.”
“Maybe you and Lisa could find something to do for a day so I could invite Mike over for some girl time. I’m sure some of my clothes would fit him.”
“His hair is pretty short. Too bad he doesn’t have a wig.”
“I’m not sure that Mike buying a wig wouldn’t push Lisa over the edge.”
“Hmm, I’ll have to see what I can do. Let’s give it a few weeks and see if Lisa is really OK with the underdressing. If she’s all copacetic, I’ll talk to her about that day trip thing to give you guys some girl time. But I’d better tread softly there, given her initial thought about Mike being gay. If I caught innuendo correctly, I think she wondered if Mike was gay; what did that say about you as his lifelong friend.”
I took her in my arms, gave her a real kiss and said, “I think I’ve proven to you I’m not gay,” and I wiggled my hips against her.
“Bad boy,” she said. “Get changed while I get dinner. If you’re lucky, I may allow you to prove again tonight.”
I got a call from Mike Saturday morning about ten.
“Hey Mike, how’s it going?”
“To tell the truth, I’m a little scared.”
“Scared? Scared of what?”
“Well, you know that Lisa brought some panties and camis home for me and about my bras and all. Well, I took a chance and wore the bra and inserts home. My shirt was heavy enough that you couldn’t see it.
“When I got home, I cleaned out the junk drawer that Lisa talked about and put the other bras in there. When Lisa came in she handed me the sack and went into the kitchen to start dinner without saying anything. I tried to act normal, but I’m not sure that I managed it. Lisa just acted as if everything was just as always.”
“Have you gone full Monty with the underdressing yet?”
“Yeah, Lisa was up ahead of me today, so I decided that I’d go for it. That’s what has me scared. I’ve got everything on. I’m hyper-aware of my underwear and that there’s more to my chest than normal. I’m waiting for her to tell me it was a mistake to allow this. I don’t even know if she’s noticed. I’m torn about that. Part of me is wishing she did notice, just to get it over with and the other part of me is dreading the reaction. I’m nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
“Why don’t you find someplace to go? Worrying about some stranger noticing is bound to be a lot less stressful than worrying about Lisa.”
“I don’t know how Lisa will feel about me heading out. It’s been a long time since I’ve been allowed out without a keeper.”
I chuckled a little at his turn of phrase. Then an idea hit me. “Do you have anything on the honey-do list that you might like to have some help with?”
“Well, not really, why do you ask?”
“I was thinking if I had an excuse, I could come over and act as a buffer to your feelings.”
“I have been meaning to clear out the shed. Most of what’s in there really should be hauled to Goodwill or the dump, and what little there is that’s worth keeping could easily go up in the loft in the garage. I’ve really wanted to turn the shed into a woodworking shop. I’ve got that table saw and have never really done anything with it since we put that loft in the garage. With the saw out of there, there should be enough room.”
“OK. There you have it. Ask me to come help you. I’ll see if Carrie wants to come along.”
“But isn’t the weekend your girl time?”
“I get so much of it I can stand to miss a day now and then. Besides, all my clothes are really women’s clothes anyway. So I won’t really be missing out on girl time, just on the girlie-girl aspect of it. I’ll bring my utility trailer and we can load it up with the junk and swing by Home Depot on the way back and pick up some stuff to upgrade the electrical in the shed.”
Leaving Carrie in the house with Lisa, Mike and I tackled the shed. It wasn’t as bad as it might have been, but when we finally sorted what should be hauled away it filled my trailer about halfway. The shed already had a 110 circuit to it with a single light fixture. But we decided that it would need more to it if he was going to run any power tools out there. The shed had been built by the previous owner, who had run a ¾ inch underground conduit out there. My uncle had been an electrician and had moved several times; each time he remodeled a little and in his last move, he had the house built from the ground up. He had done his own wiring. My dad had volunteered with each job to help his brother and when I got old enough to help with the grunt work, he volunteered me as well. This, as it turned out, was a godsend. I learned something about framing walls and electrical circuitry. As a result, I was a pretty good handyman and the only time I really needed to hire a professional was when we replaced the roof. It was just too big a job for me to handle by myself in a timely manner so the pros got the job.
Anyway, after the trailer was loaded, we kind of worked out just where he would need outlets and light fixtures. We spent some time on YouTube and decided we’d need a subpanel in the shed. After working out a list of things we needed from Home Depot we headed out.
When we got back, the girls had a late lunch ready and insisted we take a break and eat.
“From the look of the stuff you guys brought back from the big box store, it looks like you really did some male bonding,” Lisa observed.
I had to suppress my urge to chuckle out loud. I was fully dressed in women’s clothes and Mike was fully underdressed. I’d seen plenty of women dressed exactly as he was, given his underwear.
“Well, a big box store full of building material and tools is a place where men do just that.” That was true, but any male bonding that Mike and I had done was done while we were in school. We were actually doing something akin to that now. Is there such a thing as feminine bonding? …for men?
After lunch, Mike and I started to work in the shed. The first order of business was to mount the subpanel and the outlets. Then the boxes for the lighting, followed by the fixtures. Once all the wiring in the shed was complete, it was time to bring in the service to the subpanel. One of the things we got at the big box store was a fifty-foot length of paracord. We turned off the breaker and disconnected the wire from the light switch. Tying and then taping one end of the paracord to it, I had Mike feed it back into the conduit while I pulled the wire back from the main panel in the house. Once that was done, I tied and taped the paracord to the three wires that would bring power to the subpanel. With the spools of wire on a length of pipe and Mike holding it, I went to the shed and pulled the wire out there. It was a lot harder to pull the new wire than the old. I guess the extra conductor plus the step up in wire gauge made a big difference but we did it. We left the wire uncut on the floor by the main panel and hooked up the subpanel. After checking everything was done as we wanted it, we installed the 220 breaker in the main panel and switched it on. Back at the subpanel, we turned on the two breakers the one for the outlets and one for the lights. Flipping the light switch gave cause for a high five when the lights came on. A quick check of the outlets confirmed that they were all hot.
As we came in to clean up the mess by the main breaker panel, Carrie poked her head into the room.
“It’s getting late. Finish up here and get washed up. You’re taking us out to dinner.
Dinner was at a little Italian place not far from their house. We’d all been there many times. The atmosphere at the table during dinner was anything but remarkable. Conversation flowed; everything from the latest television offering to the project that Mike and I had just completed. It devolved into two separate topics: with the women debating which of the new shows were worth watching and Mike and I speculating about what else would be needed for him to get a functional woodworking shop going.
As the meal drew to a close, we ordered dessert and Carrie and Lisa did the herd instinct thing that women have for going to the restroom.
“Ah, Alex? What do you do about draining the bladder? It’s a bit obvious that you’re not wearing anything with a fly. That must make it difficult standing to cut loose.”
“I’ve gotten into the habit of sitting for everything. Carrie likes it because there’s less mess around the commode and I think the bladder drains better. In a public restroom, it blocks anyone from seeing your underwear providing you don’t drop your pants to your ankles. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I’m trying to decide if I can hold it until I get home or if I’m going to have to brave the restroom here.”
The ladies returned about then.
“About time,” I told them. “Mike and I are both about to burst. Come on Mike; if women can make the restroom a group event so can we.”
Luckily, there were two stalls and both were empty. We found ourselves alone in the restroom as we were washing our hands.
“I want to thank you for coming over today. Getting involved with that project allowed me to forget about my underwear. I really hadn’t thought about it until I needed the restroom.”
“When you do it as often as I do, the feel of the underwear becomes natural and you don’t think about it all that much. How often do you think you’ll do it?”
“Well, that will depend on how well I’m able get ready for bed without Lisa noticing my underwear.”
“Ummm, I see. That’s one thing I never had to worry about. I don’t know your bedroom routine. I know you have a dual-sink vanity. Do you both do your nightly bathroom routine together or separately?”
“No, the only time we really use the dual sink is when we are getting ready to go out. She does her make up while I comb my hair and determine if my shave is holding up OK.”
“Well then, you have two options. Let her go first and while she’s in the bathroom, you get into your night clothes; or, you go first and take your jammies in with you and change in the bathroom.
“What are you doing about the laundry situation? I remember one of the conditions was that you do your own laundry so she doesn’t have to deal with what kind of underwear you wear.”
“That’s another problem.”
“Here’s a suggestion. Get a tall kitchen bag and keep it in your lingerie drawer. Put your worn things in there. If you need to, you can bring it by our place and we’ll just put them in with our wash and you can rotate some of your unused stuff.”
“I hate to burden you with my laundry, but thanks for the offer. I’ll keep it in mind if I can’t work anything else out. Maybe I could wash it by hand while I’m there and devise some sort of drying rack in that closet, that Carrie’s letting me use.”
Back at Mike and Lisa’s, we were sitting out on the patio after Mike and I moved his table saw out to the shed and gave it a little tryout. The women were drinking white wine coolers while Mike and I were having a beer.
Lisa lifted her drink and said, “Here’s to you guys. Thanks to your efforts Mike and I have restored a sense of normality to our marriage.”
“We didn’t do all that much. Our part was easy compared to the effort you had to go through in order to make our effort pay off,” Carrie insisted.
“Your part may have been easy, Carrie, but I’ve done my homework. Alex had to totally change his lifestyle to make me see that what I was dealing with was trivial. I still have to remind myself that it’s just clothes.
“Yes, I did change my lifestyle. But here’s one thing I’ve learned from my research. You can’t make someone become transgender. They either are or they’re not. What Carrie did unlocked something inside of me. Something I buried when I was about eight or nine… the big boys don’t cry thing. I’ve always been a sensitive guy. Carrie tells me that’s one of the big reasons she was attracted to me.”
“Be that as it may, Alex. I only noticed your clothes because I know, but your manner of dress and the time we’ve spent in public, like tonight, has gone a long way in relieving my concerns about how people will accept it. I watched everybody at the restaurant tonight and no one, and I mean no one, even blinked at what you’re wearing.” She turned to Mike. “I suppose that you would like to expand your wardrobe to include something like Alex is wearing?”
Mike looked me over as if he were noticing for the first time that I was wearing women’s things.
“Alex tells me that what he’s wearing does a lot toward relieving the stress of needing to wear something. But I understand that even accepting as much as you have is a great effort on your part and I don’t want to make waves.”
“I thank you for that. Maybe if we keep socializing with Carrie and Alex, I’ll come around to accepting masculine-looking women’s clothes on you. But I think you may be right to think that it would be pushing it right now. But I’ll make this concession. When you get a chance, buy some outerwear so you can go over to Alex’s on a weekend and get your feminine fix. Include some of the kind of things that Alex has on. That way, when I get brave enough for the next step, you’ll have it at the ready.”
Lisa told Carrie that she wanted to go shopping on Sunday and invited her to come along. “Mike, why don’t you go over to hang out with Alex? Maybe he has a project you could help him with.”
Carrie liked the idea. “I know,” she said, “why don’t you give Mike a ride over to our house and then we can go shopping. I’m sure Mike and Alex can find something to do.”
“Ah…, I don’t want to infringe on Alex’s weekend any more than I already have.”
“No problem, Mike. You know you’ve been invited to expand your wardrobe so why don’t we go shopping as well. I’ve got a list of places that have the kind of things you need.”
Lisa looked a little alarmed.
“If the ladies will be kind enough to tell us what mall they are going to, we can be sure to not run into them. It’s not likely anyway. These shops are all small shops not in any malls.”
“Ah…, Lisa, is that OK with you? I mean you’ve already made a lot of concessions and I’m willing to let you set limits on how much and when I indulge.”
Lisa looked a little flustered.
“Well, Alex is right. I did invite you to expand your wardrobe. If you can be sure to not be anywhere near where Carrie and I go… I mean I know that it’s been decided that you can do the thing at Alex’s place, and to do that you need something to wear. Oh God, I can’t believe that I’m having this conversation. Less than a year ago, I was debating throwing you out of the house over this and now I’m sitting on my inhibitions and making concessions to allow you to do the very thing that upset me.”
Mike put his beer down and went over to Lisa. Taking her hands, he stood her up and wrapped her in a hug. I couldn’t hear it, but I saw his lips move. I know he said, “I love you.”
Then out loud, he said. “We don’t have to go shopping. I can just hang out.”
Lisa pulled him close for a long time. I began to feel like we were intruding on a private moment.
“Maybe we should be heading home, Carrie.”
“No, that’s OK,” Lisa said. “You guys are part of this. Carrie keeps me grounded regarding this thing. I hope we aren’t making you uncomfortable.”
They were still holding each other tightly. Mike looked at me and gave a slight shrug. Carrie walked over to them and put her hand on Lisa’s shoulder. They looked each other in the eye for a time.
“Look,” Carrie said, “Let’s change the subject. You two hash it out after we leave. I’m sure with what just transpired; you don’t need us to referee your conversation. It’s evident that you still love each other. I’m proud of you two for how well you are taking each other’s needs and feelings into account. When you guys get to our place tomorrow, you can let us know what you’ve decided.”
Lisa turned loose of Mike and hugged Carrie. As she turned, I could see tears in her eyes, but her expression said she was touched by either what Mike did, or by Carrie, or even both. Mike turned and looked at me and I gave him a thumbs up.
By Patricia Marie Allen
Chapter 19
Outerwear
Carrie was just putting her phone down when I came out of the shower Sunday morning.
“That was Lisa. She was concerned because she remembered that I told her that you always liked to wear dresses or skirts on the weekend, and she wanted me to tell you that you don’t have to change that on her account. She says that seeing you in a dress or a skirt is a kind of baptism by fire to drive home the fact that I really am good with you cross-dressing. She feels that seeing you will hasten her acceptance that Mike needs to do the same thing.”
“Good,” I said. “I was just mulling over just what to wear. I really don’t know if Mike and I are going anywhere or not. And if we do go, do I go in all my feminine glory or do I go butch?”
“Which would you rather do?”
“I’m torn. Going to Ann’s all dressed was exciting and I’ve been thinking of doing it again. But I’m a little nervous. I mean, Ann knows all about me and she’s definitely Trans friendly.”
“Well, unless you want to greet Lisa and Mike in a bathrobe, you really should put something on. After we leave, if you have second thoughts about what you’re wearing you can change.”
I opted for butch. Women’s skinny jeans, a V-neck tee-shirt and a lightweight plaid Big Shirt left unbuttoned. The tee-shirt was tight enough to make it plain I had enhanced my bust. Anyone who didn’t know me would assume that I was just one of those unlucky guys whose hormones had given him some man boobs. I wore trouser socks and my “Italian” loafers. I styled my hair in such a way that it could have gone either way.
Lisa and Mike showed just as I poured myself a cup of coffee. Coming in, Lisa looked at me and got a strange look for a moment that softened quickly.
“Didn’t Carrie tell you that you didn’t have to alter your weekend plans because of me?”
“I didn’t choose my outfit because of you. There were two factors that swayed my decision. I’ve only been out in a dress the one time when Mike and I went to pick up his lingerie. So I’m not all that comfortable with flaunting my feminine side that blatantly and if I was uncomfortable, I reasoned that it might make Mike uncomfortable to go out with me.”
“OK, so long as I’m not putting a damper on your choices.”
“After we get back, I’ll probably slip into something more comfortable, but today is about expanding Mike’s wardrobe.”
The girls headed out and Mike and I looked over the list of stores. We ruled out the ones that wanted us to have an appointment. That left three women’s wear stores and a shoe store.
“I assume you’re underdressed. What do you have on for socks?”
“Crew socks.”
“That won’t do for trying on shoes.” I went to my drawer and got a pair of white trouser socks that I had only worn once. They weren’t suitable for work and I didn’t need them around the house. “Here, change into these. They are the same thickness as nylons, so you’ll get a good fit.”
We made the shoe store our first stop. It was a small shop in a strip mall. I was a little leery of going in. I wasn’t sure just how to explain why we were there. I felt better as soon as we stepped inside. There was a poster for the upcoming pride event in the window by the door.
We were greeted by a woman with short hair. Not a businessman’s cut, but close. She was wearing an Oxford shirt, slacks, and lace-up shoes. But more telling than that was almost no makeup. If she wasn’t a lesbian, she should have a button made to wear that said, “No, I’m not lesbian.”
“Hi, you were recommended to us by Ann at Ann’s Lingerie and More.”
“Yes, we get a lot of referrals from Ann. What can we do for you today?”
The knowing look she gave us said plainly that she pegged us as cross-dressers. Just to be sure to remove any doubt, I nervously (well I acted as if I was nervous) played with a button on my shirt to make sure she noticed that it was a woman’s shirt.
“Well, this is a shoe store, so shoes? We’d like to see something like I’m wearing, for my friend, and then perhaps something a little…” I couldn’t quite get myself to say it.
She looked down at my shoes and smiled. “… more feminine?” she finished the sentence.
“Ah, yeah.”
The whole while, Mike had a dear in the headlights look. The woman led the way over to some women’s shoe displays. I glanced around the shop and was mildly surprised that they carried both women’s and men’s shoes. But given what she was wearing, I supposed that some lesbians would want masculine shoes… but what do I know? Up until Thanksgiving last year, I had been totally vanilla straight, so I had no frame of reference.
She looked at Mike and asked. “Do you know what size you wear?”
Mike licked his lips and managed a “No.”
“Sit here,” she indicated a chair, “and I’ll measure you.”
Mike sat and she produced a Brannock Device like I’d never seen before. There were two scales on it. One in pink and another in blue; clearly intended to measure both women and men on the same device. ‘Clever,’ I thought.
She helped him off with his shoe. She smiled when she had her hand on his heel. No doubt that she could tell he wasn’t wearing men’s socks. Placing his foot in the device, she had him stand.
She fiddled with it some and said, “It says 10 ½, but we’ll have to go with an 11 since not many shoe companies make women’s shoes in half sizes above 9 ½. I’ll bring a selection of colors and styles for you.”
She headed into the backroom. Mike looked at me with a silly grin.
“I’ve never been fitted for women’s shoes before. The ones I had, I got off Amazon and really didn’t fit that well. They were size ten and when I first got them, they were really tight. I’d just about got them broken in when Lisa caught me and broke the heel off before throwing them away.”
The clerk returned with a stack of boxes. Sitting on the ubiquitous shoe-fitting stool, she opened the first box.
“These are a close match for what your friend is wearing.”
They were indeed. Just a rich brown shade as opposed to my cordovan and a very similar style. She slipped the right one on his foot; then removed his left shoe and put that one on as well.
“Walk around a little,” she advised.
Mike complied
“How do they feel?”
“Pretty good.”
“I’m usually pretty good at getting the right size first try. Sit down and I’ll show you the rest. There may be some that you like better.”
The next pair were about the same cut but had tassels. Just a shade more feminine but still close enough so that he could wear them anywhere. I’d seen men’s shoes with tassels before. They too, fit well. She had six in all. One of them we ruled out because they were two-tone black and white. Another was patent leather and they were ruled out as well. In the end, we were divided between the first one, a penny loafer and the second with the tassels. Mike got brave and went with the tassels.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to bring myself to wear them anywhere but at home, but I want the tassels. They speak to me.”
Mike had obviously relaxed. He was smiling like a kid who just got a new bike.
We both ended up buying some shoes. I don’t know why I bothered, but I kind of got swept up in the moment. I bought some patent leather flats that would go with my most recent purse and a pair of blue heels that I thought would go with the last dress that Carrie had brought home for me. Mike got a total of three pairs. The loafers and two more, both decidedly feminine. The last pair, he later told me, were similar to the ones that Lisa had caught him wearing.
“Why don’t you wear your new loafers while we finish up our shopping?” He blinked at me. “You know you want to.” He nodded and put them on.
A few minutes at the register, where our plastic took a hit, and we were on our way.
“I can’t believe that I’m really wearing women’s shoes out in public. You don’t know how many times when I was dressed that I wanted to go out. I only did it once in high school. It was late at night, after midnight, I snuck out and did a two-block lap. I was scared to death. It was such a stupid thing to do.”
“Yeah, well that trip to Ann’s was my first, and I was just like you are now. But the butch clothes I’ve got on today; I’ve done that so often, I hardly think about it.”
At the next stop, we were greeted by an older woman who welcomed us with a smile. When I explained that we had been referred by Ann, she took us to another part of the store and through a set of doors marked, “Plus Sizes.”
“We serve the transgender community here. It makes them feel a bit more comfortable to be away from the windows and gives us a chance to let the plus-size women know that we have a transgender customer in the store.
“Now, what can I show you?”
I didn’t buy anything, but Mike bought two dresses. He was beaming as he tried them on. He actually tried on seven dresses. Some were too tight and some hung like a potato sack. Another new experience for him. I should talk. Carrie had bought all my dresses for me and it was her expertise that managed to get things that fit me. I decided that one day, I’d be back and try on a few things.
We went to the last store where Mike bought two skirts and three tops. I got carried away and bought a top myself. That store had more casual wear, so Mike also bought three pairs of women’s jeans and two pairs of slacks that would go with his sports coat that he sometimes wore to work. I talked him into an Oxford shirt with the buttons on the distaff side. And a couple of polo shirts, similar to what he had on. As a matter-of-fact, one was nearly an exact match in color. Only the buttons and the fact that the sleeves were a half an inch shorter would give it away.
Back at home, we put his new clothes away and after much cajoling, I got him to wear a pair of his new jeans and the polo shirt that was such a close match and, of course, his new tasseled loafers.
“I think you owe it to yourself to see how it looks all together.” We laid out the outfit and I left him to change. We may have both been cross-dressers and maybe we’d be OK fully dressed around each other, but to see the other guy in his lingerie wasn’t something I was comfortable with.
When he’d finished, he came out to let me have a look. Honestly, aside from the shoes, he didn’t really look that different. Of course, to my discerning eye, the buttons on the shirt and the fact that the jeans fit close were easy to see.
All of a sudden, the front door burst open and Lisa and Carrie came in, shopping bags rustling and they were laughing at something.
“Hi guys,” Carrie said. “You beat us home.”
“Yeah well we didn’t have that many places we could go.”
I could see Mike was about to panic.
“Mike and I were about to have a beer. Would you guys like something?”
“There should be a fresh four-pack of Seagram's Strawberry Daiquiri in the fridge. Why don’t you get us a couple?”
“Come on Mike; we’ve been assigned a mission.”
I spun him by his elbow and gave a little nudge. He took the hint and nearly ran to the kitchen. By the time I got there and opened the fridge, he was starting to hyperventilate.
“I’ve got to change. How can I get back to my clothes without Lisa seeing me.”
“You can’t, and you don’t need to,” I told him as I opened the bottles.
“But Lisa…”
“Has already seen you. Anything you do, like go back and change, will only draw attention to you, and then she’ll notice. Why do you think that I wanted you to get that particular color polo shirt?” He looked at me totally lacking comprehension. “Because, it looks so much like the one you had on when you came over. She was expecting you to be wearing that one, and so that’s what her mind registered when she saw you. Don’t make waves. Allow her to roll with it. As far as the shoes are concerned, you could be proactive and call her attention to them. You did say that you’d promised no secrets. All you need to tell her is that the shoe store we went to sold both men’s and women’s shoes and that you bought them. Then ask her if she likes them. You won’t be lying. The store did sell both and you did buy them. If I were you, if she doesn’t twig to the idea that they are women’s shoes, then I’d wear them home.”
“But what if she figures it out later?”
“Then you point out that you showed them to her tonight, and she thought they were men’s, and so will everyone else. Then, offer to bring them back over here if it bothers her.
While I was talking, I’d put some ice in two glasses and poured the daiquiris in them. I handed a beer and one of the daiquiris to Mike and motioned with my head back toward the living room. When we got there, Lisa wasn’t in the room.
“Thanks hon,” Carrie said as I handed her, her drink.
I sat next to Carrie on the couch and Mike sat in one of the Queen Anne chairs at the end of the table.
“Where’s Lisa?”
“She needed to tinkle.”
I nodded to Mike and lifted my bottle.
“To being proactive.”
Mike sucked his lips between his teeth for a long moment, then lifted his beer and nodded.
“To being proactive,” he repeated.
“Is this a private toast or can anybody join in?”
I lowered my voice.
“Mike needs to be proactive to tell Lisa what he bought. All part of no more secrets.”
Carrie lifted her drink.
“To being proactive.”
We all took a drink. Shortly thereafter, Lisa reappeared.
“So, are you gals going to divulge just how badly you bruised the credit cards?” I asked.
“Not really badly, I don’t think,” Carrie offered.
“We had lunch and, well, you saw what Carrie brought in, just three bags. Less than two hundred dollars, wouldn’t you think Carrie?”
“Yeah, it was more about the outing for me than the buying.”
“So what about you Lisa?” I carried the ball for Mike again.
He was having a hard time coming up with the words to say what needed to be said.
“I’ve probably got just a little over two hundred dollars’ worth in the car.”
Just as I’d hoped, she turned the question to Mike.
“So what about you?”
Mike smiled; at ease at last.
“Not quite as much as you, I don’t think. Remember, we only went to three stores. I’m willing to bet you visited more than a dozen.”
I felt the need to offer something in support.
“We kept it to the basics. The big purchase was at the last store.”
Mike looked down at his shoes.
“I’m not so sure about that Alex. We didn’t buy much at the first store, but they were high ticket items.”
“That’s right. They had some nice stuff. I even bought something there.”
Carrie had been paying close attention to where this conversation was going and caught Mike looking at his shoes. By the grin on her face, I knew the penny dropped.
“What kind of store and just how big a ticket?” Carrie asked me
“Not too bad, they were between thirty and fifty dollars each.”
Mike plucked up his courage.
“It was a shoe store. I intended to buy only one pair, but I ended up with three. They had both men’s and women’s shoes.” He stood, and put out a foot displaying one of his shoes to Lisa. “I bought these there; do you like them?”
The moment of truth. Just how observant was Lisa?
“They’re nice, but they’re a little out of your usual fare.”
“I know, but when I saw them, they just kind of called out to me. Sorry, I should have just stuck to the original plan.”
“No, no, if you like them, you should have bought them,” Lisa said. She looked at Carrie and continued, “Happens to us all the time, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, like me and that purse today. God knows I don’t need another purse. I’ll have to give one to Alex. He only has one.”
Lisa showed no sign of realizing that Mike hadn’t said he bought men’s shoes, but only that the store sold men’s shoes as well as women’s.
Lisa got quiet for a moment and then forced a smile on her face. She looked at Mike.
“Did you get everything you need?”
“For now. I’m sure that I’ll want more later.”
“What about the things like Alex is wearing? Did you get some of those?”
I noticed Mike take a sharp breath.
“The last store we went to had a lot of casual clothes, so I bought those…” he paused again “…these things there.”
He did a little twirl.
“I know you didn’t want to see me dressed in what Alex calls ‘butch.’ I just tried them on to see how good they looked. I really thought you guys were going to take longer. I was planning on putting my other clothes back on before you got here.”
Lisa looked at him and blinked.
“Turn around again, slowly,” she told him and he did.
When he was facing me, I gave him a wink and a nod.
“You know, aside from the shoes, I thought you were still wearing what you left the house in. You could have just worn that home and I would never have known.”
“I suppose,” Mike said, “but I promised no more secrets.”
“I know you did. I’m proud of you.” She studied his chest for a moment. “Are… are you underdressed as well?” she patted her chest.
Mike swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, both today and yesterday.”
“I suspected that you would today, given what the mission was today, but yesterday, what you were doing was so ‘manly’ I’d have never, I didn’t guess.”
“Regardless of what clothes, under or outer, I’m wearing, I’m still your husband. The man you married.”
Lisa put down her drink and stood to hug Mike.
“Help me Mike. I really want to be an understanding wife.”
“I know, I know, but it’s hard. Look, why don’t I go change? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“No, please don’t. Baptism by fire. I’ve seen it, so I can’t unsee it. As a matter-of-fact, why don’t you just bring all the ‘butch’ clothes home? Now that I’ve seen it, I know that I can live with it. It’ll be a while yet before I’m ready to see you in a dress though, so leave all that stuff here.”
“OK,” Mike said.
“You did buy some of that, didn’t you?”
“Yes, hon I did.”
“Good, maybe next weekend, you can come over and get your cross-dressing fix.”
Mike looked at me.
“You know me Mike; I’m dressed every weekend, so anytime.”
Chapter 20
Happy New Year Mike
The following weekend Mike did come over before lunch and Carrie helped him get some basic makeup skills. She also picked up a wig from somewhere, since his hair was just too short to style. After a time for us to get comfortable with interacting with both of us in dresses, she had to have some pictures of the two of us.
“Lisa might want to see pictures before she sees you face to face,” she told Mike.
But I just think it was just a perverse twist of her personality from watching the Phil Donahue show.
While Carrie was helping Mike, I fixed us some lunch. We settled in and played some cut-throat pinochle. Before dinner, Carrie called Lisa and invited her to come eat with us. Mike changed back to his butch clothes. But Lisa had asked straight out if we were dressed and Carrie confirmed to her we were and assured her that Mike was going back to what he came over in. Lisa had told her that she appreciated that but also said that I didn’t have to.
“Mike, in a move for solidarity, I’m willing to change as well,” I told him.
“No, if Lisa is willing to see you in a dress, then let her. I think the more she sees you, the sooner she’ll be able to see me. I doubt that I’ll ever have carte blanch to wear whatever, whenever like you do, but I hope that there’ll come a time when I can have my dresses in the closet like you do and when I dress that I won’t have to make the mad scramble to change when she comes home unexpectedly.”
“I’m hoping that there will come a time when she can spend time with you while you’re dressed.”
Mike smiled weakly.
“Dream on buddy, dream on. But maybe, if I live that long.”
That set the standard. We didn’t do girly time every weekend, but about once a month. We went back to visiting each other like before. Mike and I, of course, were in butch for those visits. On the girly weekends, Lisa always came for dinner. Mike was sure to have changed and scrubbed off his makeup before she showed up, but I continued to wear my dresses or skirts.
Of course, you know that Carrie, who was the engineer of my cross-dressing, pushed me to get out in public. And Mike aided and abetted her. While my foray out to Ann’s shop was exciting, I was still too concerned that someone would clock me. But Mike felt the need to get out and about.
To that end, the three of us, Mike, Carrie and I, started out just going to a mall, a good distance from home, just to do a “mall walk,” you know, like they recommend for seniors. The first time, it was just enter the mall at one end and walk to the other and back. That was a real eye-opener. There wasn’t a person who seemed to take notice of us.
The excursions progressed from that to doing some window shopping and on to stopping for an Orange Julius, then later, lunch in the food court. That created a problem. Liquid in means that, at some point, the liquid must exit. The first time, Carrie went in and confirmed that there was no one in there before Mike and I ventured in.
By the time summer rolled around again, it was commonplace for Mike and I to find someplace to go for our girlie time. Eventually, that included shopping for clothes and not just at the trans-friendly shops. We became quite comfortable in our feminine skins.
It was the second week in October, two years later, Lisa showed up at the house unannounced. Like we often do, she just waltzed right in through the door.
Mike nearly had a heart attack.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I wasn’t even sure I was coming over here when I left the house. I mean, I knew I had to sooner or later. Carrie has been showing me pictures and I thought it was time I faced my fears, so here I am.”
I couldn’t believe she got that all out in one breath. She turned to look at Mike.
“That’s a nice dress. It looks like something I might wear.”
Mike just looked at her. The dress he was wearing had a peasant neckline and was loose over the bust with cap sleeves and an elastic waist.
“It’s a very forgiving fit,” I told her. “So you probably could. Maybe, if you treat him real nice, he might lend it to you.”
There was an awkward silence for a moment while Lisa acclimated herself to her husband wearing a dress. Finally, she smiled again, a little genuine smile. Meanwhile, Mike was still standing where he was when she came in with a deer-in-the-headlights expression.
“Well not right now, Mike, it’s obviously what you wanted to wear today. Don’t let me put a damper on this party. What were you guys doing when I so rudely interrupted?”
“We were talking about watching a movie. I was just about to see what Vudu had to offer. But I think I know what we should watch. I managed to find ‘Just Like a Woman’ on YouTube, and I downloaded it. I burned it to a CD. It’s the 1992 British one with Julie Walters, Adrian Pasdar, and Paul Freeman,” Carrie said.
She went to the entertainment center and fished out a clear CD jewel case with that title handwritten with a sharpie on it.
I’d heard about a movie by that title, but I was sure it had a later release date, sometime after 2000. I don’t remember who starred in it, but I think it was two women, not a woman and two guys.
This one turned out to be about a yuppie-like transvestite in his thirties. His wife arrives home earlier than expected from a trip and discovers female attire spread over their apartment. She misinterprets this and throws him out. Later, he hooks up with a slightly older divorcee who encourages him.
I really liked it. From what I’d been able to understand about cross-dressers, it showed every fear that they have to deal with and the hero/heroine triumphs over them all in the end. We were all smiling at the end of the movie and quietly contemplating what it meant to us. Then Lisa’s mood darkened.
“I was like her, wasn’t I?”
“Like who?”
“The wife. Gerald’s wife at the start.” She looked at Mike with a tear forming in the corner of her eye. “Had she taken time to actually listen to him, she may not have been happy that he was a cross-dresser, but she could have found some middle ground and saved her marriage. I almost did what she did.
“When I stormed out after I caught you, I needed to get away from you, or it was going to get physically ugly. I came here looking for Carrie to confirm my justification for throwing you out. When I left her, some of my anger was directed her way for even suggesting that cross-dressing was no big deal.” She looked at Carrie. “Do you remember what I said when I stormed out of here?”
Carrie smiled. “You said, ‘If it was your husband, you wouldn’t think it was so cool.’”
“Yes, that’s it exactly. You didn’t know it and neither did I, but your response saved my marriage that day. You telling me about Donahue and the cross-dressers on his show… that kind of planted a seed of doubt in my mind. I didn’t really want to be a divorced woman, but I married a man and I wanted that man to be a man.” She chuckled a little. “How’s that for circular reasoning, wanting a man to be a man?
“Anyway, I figured that what clothes a person wore was a choice they make every time they get dressed and a man, my man, was going to make a choice to be a man or … well, we all know what the alternative would be.
“I’m sorry Mike. I tried to force you to be something you aren’t. Fortunately for us, Alex and Carrie took some bold actions to prove to me that I might be able to compromise, but it wasn’t until the suicide rate for transgender men was mentioned, and I confirmed it, that I saw the need to compromise.” Mike started to say something, but Lisa held up her hand and went on,
“I’m determined to make this part of your life a part of our lives. I may falter a time or two, but with Carrie as my model, I’m going to be an understanding wife.”
I was the one who asked for clarification.
“Does that mean you’ll be coming over here with Mike for our girlie time then?”
“I don’t want to intrude, but yes, sometimes. And eventually, I’ll become enough OK that Mike can have some feminine outerwear at the house, so he doesn’t have to limit his time to when he can come over here.”
She stayed for dinner and when it came time for them to leave, she hugged Carrie and I thanking us. Mike left just after her.
“Well that was a surprise,” I said when they had gone.
“Not as much as you might think. What do you think I’ve been doing when you and Mike go out shopping?” I shrugged. “I’ve been going over to see Lisa. I’ve shown her some of the pictures I’ve been taking. She, in turn, asked questions about how you becoming a cross-dresser affected our marriage. She also asked about how many dresses Mike bought and if they looked good on him. If you remember, last year, she decided that if Mike wanted, he could grow his hair out like you did.
“And that movie we watched today. I saw it mentioned online and looked for it. It’s not available here in the States. Well I guess it was at one time, back in the VCR days, but it’s not been released on CD. Anyway, I found it on YouTube and watched it there. Then I saw it was downloadable. I’ve been waiting for a time when I could show it to Lisa. I figured that it would be best if she and Mike saw it together.
“She seemed more and more interested in seeing pictures of Mike in a dress and asked me specifically if I would take pictures of him in anything new he bought. I mentioned in a throwaway remark that she could always stop by sometime and see it firsthand.”
“Planting a seed, huh? How long ago was that?”
“The first part of July. Last time I was over there, she wanted to see the latest pictures and I told her that the batteries had died and I didn’t get any pictures, but I promised that I would this week. I again said she should just stop by sometime.”
“The batteries died? And she bought it? We all know that you’re such a photo nut that you pack extra batteries whenever you take the camera out of the drawer.”
“She didn’t question me, and she showed up here.”
A couple of weeks later, when Mike came over, Lisa came with him. Carrie, being her pushy little self, insisted that we all go out somewhere. It took a little convincing, but the four of us did a mall walk. Lisa was as amazed as I had been that first time that Mike, Carrie and I had done that.
Only this time, we all stopped for an Orange Julius. Carrie insisted, and to mollify Lisa’s concerns, we let the girls go order first, and then Mike and I went up to the counter after they had found a table nearby to enjoy their drinks. When Mike and I got ours, we then joined them at the table. That was a real eye-opener for Lisa.
Christmas fell on a Monday that year, and Mike and I did a last-minute gift run on Saturday. En femme, of course, and we each bought our wives a really nice gift from our feminine side and made sure that they would know it was our alter ego that gave it to them. Mike called late on Christmas day.
“Oh my God, Alex. You’ll never believe what Lisa got me for Christmas.”
“Oh? What?”
“A dress. Not just a dress, but the kind of thing you’d wear for a formal occasion. And guess why she got it?”
“I’ll bite; why?”
“This year is our turn to host New Year’s Eve. Carrie told her about the New Year’s that you guys spent the year that Lisa caught me. She wants to recreate it with you coming over in a dress as well.”
When Mike hung up, Carrie wanted to know, “What was that all about?”
“I think I need another new dress.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to wear that old dress to ring in a new year.”
“We’re going to Mike and Lisa’s this year.”
“Yes we are, and she bought him a dress to wear.”
Epilogue
Looking Back
Our New Year’s party was both amazing and surreal. Instead of two guys and two gals, there were four women. (Two cis and two trans) We were all dressed to the nines. Other than that, it was like old times. A party buffet, some adult beverages, taken with some restraint. As always, Carrie’s eggnog was a big hit.
It seemed a bit surreal in that the movie choices were all chick flicks and the conversation was mostly about what the characters, women that is, were wearing and how the period clothing compared to modern day clothing. I spent some time watching how Lisa interacted with Mike. It was evident to me that she was just a little out of her comfort zone, but I’ve got to give it to her; considering where she had come from three years ago. This was a far cry from the divorce that had been foremost in her mind.
I waited with some anticipation as well as some foreboding for midnight. Lisa came through again. I don’t know if it was just the prolonged time seeing Mike dressed or if the little bit of alcohol she’s imbibed in, but she seemed at ease when she initiated the midnight kiss.
Of course, Carrie and I kissed. After; we all took up our glasses of champagne and toasted the new year. In the morning, I dressed androgynously and after a light breakfast we made our goodbyes.
“Thanks for coming over,” Lisa said as we were at the door. “And thanks again for saving our marriage.”
Carrie started to say something; I’m sure it was to belittle our efforts, but Lisa cut her off.
“I know you’re going to tell me that I should take the credit for the change in attitude, but I’d never have considered that change if you two hadn’t intervened. So thank you for caring enough to take action.”
That was a real turning point for Mike a Lisa. Mike and I got together for some girl time. Mostly shopping trips. The thing that made it different and showed Lisa’s real change of heart was that Mike no longer needed the closet space that we allotted him. His femme clothing occupied the closet in their spare room.
Mike and I learned the art of shopping without buying. Just to be out for the day and do something women would do. One afternoon we broke off shopping a little early, mostly because we had come to the conclusion that we needed to cut back our spending. We had each bought a pair of shoes and some accessories and it was just too tempting to buy just one more dress.
We pulled up at Mike’s place thoroughly expecting the wives to be out for the afternoon. They were going to attend some function that was sponsored by Lisa’s company. Mike invited me inside. We were sitting in the family room drinking a Seagram’s Black Cherry Fizz. We’d both become fond of these “frou-frou drinks” as we used to call them when our wives would prefer them over a beer or even a glass of wine. As we embrace our feminine side it seemed like the thing to do.
To our surprise, Lisa and Carrie came in unannounced. Mike blinked a couple of times and then chuckled a little.
“After all this time I still have to fight the urge to jump up and hide,” he said.
“No need for that anymore,” Lisa told him. “But I know what you mean. You know it wasn’t that long ago that I’d have blown a gasket finding you here all girlied up. But when I saw Alex’s car was here, the first thing I thought was, ‘I bet they’re still en femme,’ and I was right.”
That shows you just how far they’d come.
We decided to get together for St. Paddy’s day, the four of us girls. So some time was spent deciding what we would do for dinner. We ended up with Irish Coddle, with Guinness Brownies for desert served with Irish Coffee. Of course we were all decked out in green.
We decided that after dinner, we’d like to watch a movie. We were going to let the girls pick the movie while Mike and I cleaned up but Carrie had other plans.
“Now, now, none of that. Every time we get together with you guys en femme, the two of you let us pick the movies and you do the ‘women’s work.’ That’s a bunch of horsepucky. If you’re going to be feminine, don’t be misogynistic. You two pick out the movie, Lisa and I’ll do the cleanup.”
I thought it would take at least a half an hour for them to bring things up to their standards. I already knew what movie I thought we should watch: “Romancing the Stone.” It was perfect; a romantic/comedy/adventure movie. Something for everyone. Mike didn’t have any suggestions; when I called up Vudu and found it we sat down to wait for the girls.
“I wouldn’t call it a sacrifice exactly.”
“I would. Carrie told Lisa the whole story of how she talked you into the experiment. After hearing the gory details from her, I’m impressed with how you took it and didn’t crack as she forced you to become a cross-dresser.”
“I would say that ‘forced’ might be just a little strong. I mean, had I not shared her goal of helping you guys, I could have put my foot down and told her that I couldn’t do it. But…”
I found that I needed to share just what I really went through. I hadn’t said anything to Carrie. At the time I was afraid to, and later, there seemed to be no time without bring it up out of the blue.
“I did some deep thinking when I finally admitted to myself that I was a cross-dresser and wasn’t just experimenting. I dredged up some repressed memories. It was my dad’s brother, my uncle who laid a number on me.
“When I was eight, he took my cousin and me on a fishing trip down to the Tualatin River. We were catching crappie. I was horrified when he took his knife and cut the first one up for bait to catch more fish. I started crying. My cousin was ten and said, ‘What a crybaby. It’s only a fish.’ Then my uncle chimed in and said, ‘Big boys don’t cry. Only sissies cry. You don’t want to be a sissy do you?’ My cousin didn’t let it go for the rest of the time we were on the river. Every time one of them baited a hook with the flesh of that dead fish my lip quivered. I never rebaited my hook. I had repressed that memory and with it any and all things that might label me a sissy.
“My appreciation for the softer things in life suffered. It wasn’t until I met Carrie that I got any approval for being touched by some of the ‘dreaded’ chick flicks that I seemed to like and would watch on television when no one was around. Somehow, she unlocked my softer side and then when we started this cross-dressing experiment all those feelings surfaced. I just didn’t know the source at the time.
“I was honestly surprised by how quickly I enjoyed what was going on. I really felt there must be something wrong with me. It wasn’t until I began to visit cross-dressing websites and got a feel for what cross-dressers felt about themselves that I began to be at peace.
“The site that really did it for me was called “The Gender Dysphoria Bible.” I’d heard of gender dysphoria, but I really didn’t know anything about it. So I decided to take a look at it to see what it had to say. I don’t know who the author is but they deserve a medal. There are twenty-two sections, each one cross-referenced with real documented studies and professional explanations of what they are talking about. It took me two days of extended computer time in the evening to read it all. It was the things on that site that allowed me to identify and come to terms with what was happening here.” I tapped my head. “As the memories surfaced, I realized that there was a whole part of me that I’d been stuffing in a box labeled, ‘Sissy Stuff: Beware!’ That site helped me sift through it and accept that I really wasn’t who I thought, no make that, I pretended to be.”
“So you don’t have any regrets then?”
“None. In fact, I’m indebted to Carrie for uncovering all this. I think I’m a happier, more whole person than I was before. Oh for sure, Carrie did move things along at a faster pace than I was comfortable with. It did get a little bumpy along the way, so while the journey wasn’t as enjoyable as it might have been, I’m happy with the destination.”
“I’m glad for you,” Mike told me.
We fell silent for a time. I don’t know what Mike was thinking about, but I was considering my life as it had been compared to how it is now. I hadn’t been really unhappy, just unfulfilled.
“You guys want me to bring the rest of the brownies when I come in?” Carrie called from the kitchen door.
“That would be nice. I think we could use some non-Irish coffee to wash them down. Two of those and I can feel a buzz coming on. Not good for whoever is going to drive home.”
We all enjoyed the movie. Plenty of adventure to satisfy the masculine side; plenty of romance to satisfy the feminine side and plenty of comedy to temper both of the other parts.
As Carrie and I lay in bed that night, she cuddled up and was unusually quiet. I was just enjoying the closeness. We had been close before all this, but now it was enhanced by a factor of ten.
“I have a confession to make,” she said quietly.
That took me by surprise.
“Oh, what kind of confession?”
“I’m guilty of eavesdropping. Lisa had gone in to tinkle and we were through cleaning up. I stepped to the door to ask you guys about the brownies when I heard Mike ask you about being forced. I wanted to hear what you had to say, because Lisa had talked to me along the same vein. I had tried to defend myself as best I could, but it nagged at me. I never saw it that way.
“But did I … if not force you, did I push you into something you would never have done?”
I had to think about it. How to answer? The fact remained that if she hadn’t come up with the crazy idea, the likelihood of me thinking of it was virtually nil. I decided honesty was the best policy.
“The truth is that I seriously doubt that I’d have come up with the idea myself. But once we started… I was along for the ride. You know, with your guidance and … ok … pushing, we compressed about ten years of cross-dressing progress into about eight months’ time.
“Ah… yeah… that’s about the way I see it looking back. But at the time… I guess I had tunnel vision.
“Look, if you want to ash can all this and go back to being plain old Alex, I’ll understand. I mean, I loved you, the old you, for six years before this all started, so I’m sure that I can still love you that way.”
I smiled. It was my time to put the bug on her.
“But I think, if you’ll be honest, you would miss me all dressed up… wouldn’t you? Be honest.”
She looked down and was silent for a long time.
“I’m pretty kinky, aren’t I? You’re right I would miss our times like this when you just relax into your feminine side and we enjoy something like that movie together. But just because you gave up cross-dressing it doesn’t mean that you’d have to totally give up that kind of thing. I mean I can enjoy a good John Wayne shoot ‘em up cowboy movie, why can’t a manly man enjoy a chick flick?”
“That’s true, and I did allow myself to enjoy them. But that’s not really the question is it? Isn’t the question really do I give up wearing all the luscious clothes that I’ve accumulated over the last three years? When you and Lisa came home from shopping the day that we bought Mike the androgynous clothes and she realized that Mike was wearing them he offered to change and she said, ‘no, I’ve seen it and I can’t unsee it.’ Well, I’ve lived it and can’t un-live it.
“No my dear, the genie is out of the bottle and there’s no putting her back in. I may not have always enjoyed the ride, but we’re at the destination now and I enjoy where I am.
“If anything I should thank you for pushing and whatever else there was to it, because it got me something I’d have missed altogether even if I’d never have known it.
“Let’s face it; we both get off on me in a dress and lingerie.”
“So you forgive me?”
“If there’s anything to forgive, I forgive you and I love you.”
I pulled her into a kiss; a long lingering kiss. I really enjoyed the lipstick to lipstick feel of our lips touching.
Author’s Note:
The character, Ann Murdock, of Ann’s Lingerie and More, is or was a real person and the shop was a real shop that was trans friendly. What’s more, she really was my wife’s high school friend.
Also, the website I mentioned, “The Gender Dysphoria Bible” is a real website and it’s pretty much as I described it. If you want an insight to things going on in your head, or know someone who has doubts about themselves or someone they know look up the sight. Just do an internet search on “The Gender Dysphoria Bible.”