Clothes make the ?

It hadn’t worked the way it was supposed to.

She’d read the stories, learned to use her body and her charms to get her man into women’s clothes.

But something had gone wrong.

First, he didn’t look like a beautiful girl, no guy wolf-whistled at him or asked for a dance. But neither did he look like a man in a dress.

Somehow, in women’s clothes, he managed to become ... average.

Unremarkable, all but invisible.

Then there was his attitude about it.

He was clearly not really turned on by wearing the clothes, but neither was he embarrassed or humiliated to go out wearing them.

It just didn’t seem to matter to him, one way or the other.

Plus, the more she thought about it, she found herself wondering about why she had wanted to be like the women in those stories.

Many of them seemed lost to a need for vengeance for a wrong done, hurting a man because he had hurt them, or other women.

But some were even worse, transforming a man simply because they could, with no thought or care for another human being.

Was she really like that?

She looked into the darkness in her soul, and loathed it.

But one small flicker of hope still burned. This man had loved her enough to do something few men would do, just for her.

If that love wasnt dead yet ...

“Honey? I ... I need help ...”

End.