Introduction
A married man with a secret addiction is found out by his first wife who divorces and socially slams him. He sets and obtains a goal of put his shattered life back together, then risks it all with a second wife, who unexpectedly brings with her a goal of her own, and the enticements to reach it.

Authors note: This work contains an unmentioned enticement of its own. It is the reader's choice as to if they will yield to it, or perhaps they will yield without even knowing it. In any event, may the reader find enjoyment within.

Enticements

By: Zylux

Hi, I'm a guy who's like any other middle class, hard working, overweight man and just like the vast majority of men of my stature, I have a couple of addictions. Nothing serious, just the usual junk food, beer, sports, plus one that, well, sets me apart from the majority: crossdressing.

I don't know why I can't resist dressing and making up as a woman whenever I'm alone for a few hours or more. Maybe it's because my mother took estrogen during pregnancy (the expert's advice of that time) or maybe I'm just wired differently. Whatever the reason, my addiction has caused me more than a gender confused state of mind. It has cost me a marriage to what I thought was a good, loving, woman. It was well into our marriage when my wife discovered my secret addiction. She couldn't cope with it, and things between us rapidly unraveled, resulting in her kicking me out of her life with a divorce. But that wasn't enough for her. She wanted to cause me emotional pain and shame and proceeded to slander me on social media to anyone who would read her rants. Ironically, it was the best favor she could ever have done for me, although it certainly didn't seem like it at the time.

My wife's exposing me and constant ridicule on social media was indeed as emotionally and socially devastating for me as she had wanted. But I wasn't totally destroyed, for a desire to rebuild my life and salvage my self esteem grew within me with each of her one sided posts. It soon became obvious that the best way to get back what I once had, was to wipe the slate clean and start over. That would entail having to move to another part of the city, finding a new job, and severing old social ties. That in itself was highly traumatic and caused me to wonder if I could, but the thought of actually getting my life back to the way it was before I met my now ex wife was all the enticement I needed to do it.

Moving far enough away from my ex wife to where nobody knew me or my ex was indeed the right solution and should have been the start to rebuilding my social life, but the memory of the injustice heaped upon me by my ex stifled any desire to seek out any companionship, especially female. I just kept to myself, trying to find some measure of joy in the occasional dress up session. It wasn't a bad life style by any measure, a bit lonely at times, but pleasurable enough to keep any depression that would pay me a visit manageable. It was a life I would have continued to the end of my days if not for the actions of a mildly attractive woman who was on the hunt, looking for a particular quarry. She would become my next life altering event and we were destined to meet at my place of employment.

The day when the woman on the hunt would finally come across her quarry was a Friday, the last day of a laborious work week. I was with my coworkers working on the latest project when our foreman burst in and halted work. With him was a plump, but attractive, woman pulling a high sided wagon. I couldn't help but give her a good looking over given my lack of a social life. She appeared to be around my height and age, and while she didn't try to hide her age, she certainly cared about how she looked. She presented a clean and well kept look, from the business suit she was wearing, to having her hair up and neatly tucked under a hard hat. It all added up to a definite business like and in-charge bearing about her with hints of an underlying sexuality that would be impossible for any man to resist. But oddly enough, she didn't use her sexuality to advantage like a slim saleswoman would in an effort to increase the chance of a sale. Perhaps it was due to her being overweight, although she wasn't packing nearly as many extra pounds as I was. Big boned would be a kinder way of putting it. Still, it was a look that commanded attention. She certainly had mine.

Our foreman introduced the saleswoman to us and explained that she represented a company that had power hand tools designed to make our daily efforts of earning a paycheck easier. Our foreman instructed us to give her our full attention before turning things over to her. The saleswoman started with an overview of the tools and what they were designed to do using an authoritative voice. As her presentation worked its way through a well rehearsed script, she scanned over her audience, not looking at anyone in particular until she came to me. There was a slight pause in her spiel as her eyes locked on to me. Her face lit up with pleasure, inspiring pleasures within me as well. But spotting me wasn't part of her sales pitch and she was momentarily thrown off her game plan. The saleswoman quickly recovered by a slight clearing of her throat before finishing the presentation. I on the other hand, tuned out to what she was saying and just stared at her, totally smitten.

The completion of the sales pitch signaled the start of a hands on demonstration of the tools. Without any hesitation, the saleswoman extended her hand out towards me with a look that was designed to entice me to come join her. I didn't need any further prompting and quickly came to stand beside her accompanied by cheers from my coworkers. The saleswoman reached into the wagon to pull out the largest of the tools and presented it to me. I quickly reached out with both hands, seizing the tool from underneath. The saleswoman let go of the tool and proceeded to instruct me on how to grip and use the tool but with a change in her voice. It was softer and hinted of being more than just friendly. She intentionally touched and stroked my fingers, hands, and forearms with both of her hands. Her touch was electrifying, and by her design, a turn on. Combined with her now soft voice and good looks, my thoughts naturally turned to speculating on what she could do in bed with that magic touch. My attention was no longer on the tool and my eyes shifted to her. Her eyes were already fixed on me and eye contact was quickly established. The saleswoman pulled back from me but maintained eye contact. She guided me to the current project and put me back to work using the new tool. I used it just long enough to show what it could do before she called a halt and led me back to the wagon for the next tool. It went the same way with each tool she had brought with her.

It was some time before the demonstration was over and we were ordered back to work, although I sort of volunteered to help put the tools back in the wagon, hoping to get a chance to ask out to diner the most captivating woman I had met in a long time. She and I were in full view of my coworkers but out of ear shot, and it was she who seized the moment to come on to me first. She asked me if I would join her for drinks at a sports bar directly after work. The look in her eyes was one of pure sexual enticement and I instantly said yes. We finished packing up the tools and she headed off to join up with our foreman, leaving me to go back to work, with thoughts of her and our coming date filling my mind. The rest of my shift dragged on tortuously slow.

My work day finally came to an end and I raced to clock out and get to my car. I blasted out of the parking area ahead of everyone else and headed for the sports bar. Parking in front of the sports bar was just starting to fill up and I was able to grab a spot and head into the sports bar without wasting a second. My date was there and easy to spot sitting at a table just off the entrance. She greeted me with a beer in hand and I joined her, ordering a beer from a passing waitress. My date took the initiative and got the conversation rolling. From that point on, it was as if we had known each other for a long time. We talked openly on many a personal level as we dined on a couple of the house specials. We played many of the sports themed games where she proved to be very competitive and a worthy opponent. Our time together progressed into the night and I found myself not wanting it to end. My date didn't either. We were finishing up one last table game with me on the losing end. She was more than all smiles in victory and suddenly approached me with lust in her eyes. She slipped her hands around my waist and drew our bodies tightly together. As she locked her eyes with mine, she asked me if I would like to come back to her place with a look of pure sexual enticement. I don't think I need to say what my reply was.

My date gave me instructions on finding her place before we separated to retrieve our cars. Traffic was almost non existent, and I was able to follow her car to a home in a mid range housing suburb. My date pulled into the short driveway in front of the garage while I parked on the street in front of her house. We both made for the front door. She unlocked the door and turned her head towards me as she opened the door. Words weren't needed as her look was designed to entice me to follow her through the door. I followed her in like an obedient puppy. My date led me into the heart of her living room where she turned to face me. I figured she would offer me a drink, and have me take a set on the couch, but she didn't. Instead she surprised me by reaching out to take both of my hands. She gave me a sly look and tried to pull me towards her bedroom. I had not expected her to be so forward or so casual about sex, that scared me and I started to physically resisted her. My date in turn stared deep into my eyes with a sweet reassuring look. My resistance eased and she was able to lead me to her bedroom with some effort.

Once we were in the bedroom, her look morphed into one of triumph. In victory, she embraced me and kissed me hard. I was put off by her aggressiveness, but soon returned the kiss. She pulled her head back, and smiled at me sporting a look that was enticing me into doing much more. All in all, my dates actions from the end of our time at the sports bar, to being in her bedroom, were a clear indication that she considered sex to be a sport, to be engaged in with whom ever she considered to be a worthy team mate, and on that night, I was the one she wanted to pair up with. That put a lot of pressure on me to preform to whatever level she was expecting. All I could do was pleasure her as I best knew how. I would find out how well I had performed come morning.

The nights activities in bed were given a good scrutinizing over a simple morning breakfast. I came off as having done fairly well, although my date seemed to be a little less than totally pleased. She hinted at there being room for improvement on my part but would elaborate only if I was open to letting her guide me during sex. The implied promise of there being more nights with this captivating woman was enticement enough for me to agree to her being the coach and me being the quarterback carrying out her game plan.

With the promise of there being more evenings and nights with such a captivating woman in the works, I shifted our conversation to how my date came to be a saleswoman for a tool company. She confessed that she had taken the job because she was looking for someone in particular ... me! I had become of interest to her after she had come across my ex wife's online rants, but didn't elaborate as to why. Not knowing where I then lived or my social habits, she figured the only sure way to meet me was at my employers. Thanks to my ex's online postings, she knew my profession and former employer. A check with that employer reveled that I was no longer with the company. She quickly worked out that the best way to find my new employer was to become a saleswoman with a tool company, giving her a legitimate reason to pay companies most likely to hire me a visit until she found me. That surprised me to no end. To think that the most desirable woman I had ever met wanted me in spite of knowing of my ex wife exposing me as a crossdresser swelled my head. I instantly had the desire to spend the rest of my life with her. We quickly became more than friends having a good time.

My new girlfriend and I dated many more times with each date becoming more intimate and emotionally bonding. She was always smartly dressed and didn't repeat a single outfit. I subconsciously became envious of her implied vast wardrobe, giving fuel to my crossdressing desires. But I fought back hard against these new enticements to dress or even just to imagine wearing clothes that matched my girlfriends attire, but in my size. I so did not want to screw up my relationship with the most enchanting woman I had ever come across. It was a task made easier by the possibility of my being a crossdresser not even being hinted at during our dating. That however, changed when I asked the love of my life to merry me. She delayed answering by flat out asking me if I was a crossdresser as my ex claimed. She stared at me intently, but without malice or some underlying dark plot. I didn't know if I would lose her if I confessed to my addiction, but knew I certainly would if I lied and was found out at some later time. Reluctantly, I lowered my head and quietly said yes. She placed her fingers under my chin, gently enticed me to lift my head to look her in the eyes, and said yes as well.

The love of my life and I were married in a simple civil ceremony after we each had secured a two week vacation from our respective employers for the same period of time. There was no one outside of us in attendance and understandably so, given that what little family life I had, had been destroyed by my ex's rants, and my bride also having a lack of family ties due to not having any close living relatives. Our honeymoon was planed around activities of mutual interest and really served to further bond us emotionally and physically together. It was a non stop private party and we returned home with both of us tired but feeling like we were on top of the world.

Our return home was two days before the end of our vacations. That was so I could move out of my apartment and into my wife's house. It was the logical move, and I lugged everything of value to my new home, including my female wardrobe and makeup. I had tried to throw out everything connected with my crossdressing, but couldn't bring myself to actually do it. Each outfit had stimulated special pleasures within me during my period of social isolation. Those pleasures were a sanity saving friend that I couldn't bare to part with. It was a hard fought battle, but in the end, I yielded to bringing my friend along. My wife had said that there was a spare bedroom she didn't really use and said I could make it mine, like a hobby room or a man cave. After stowing my stuff and my friend, I vowed that it would be a long time before I would pay my friend a visit, but even then, only for nostalgic reasons, not to intermingle with. My wife had plans of her own for my friend.

It was soon after I had settled into a new married life style when my wife initiated an in-depth conversation about my crossdressing at the end of an intimate diner at home. Given what had happened with my ex, it was, understandably, a subject I wanted to avoid and bury forever. I tried to give her the impression that the desire to dress no longer burned within me, for I had a new desire that overwhelmed all else … her. My wife was flattered and pleased, but didn't totally buy it, all though she didn't say anything to that effect. Instead, she acted kinda disappointed, paused, and then confessed a desire of her own. She said that early in her adult life she had met a woman who was bisexual, and had been beguiled with tales of that woman's sexual exploits with women. At the time, she had no interest in any relationship outside of a normal man and woman relationship, and pursued finding a husband. But none of the men she would come to date were deemed suitable for marriage for reasons she was not really able to pin down. It was more of a vague feeling than anything tangible. In time, the vague feeling grew and expanded into a desire, one that started to manifest itself in a recurring dream. It was during a version of the dream that included hidden desires, that she suddenly awoke to the realization that the bisexual seed had unknowingly been planted by the bisexual woman's tales, and it had taking root.

In the days following that particular dream, it became clear to her that she wanted both a loving husband and an intimate girlfriend. But there was a problem, an intimate girlfriend on the side would be cheating on her husband and if discovered, would most likely destroy her marriage. And a man who would be willing to share his wife with another woman would be virtually nonexistent. How to have both a husband and an intimate girlfriend seamed to be an unsolvable problem that tore at her emotional and mental states. Then one day while searching the internet for a solution, she happened across an interview of a bisexual man who often crossdressed. Suddenly she realized that she could have both of her desires in one man, that is if that one man was a crossdresser. A new search was begun, one that eventually led to my ex wife's online rants. After seeing my picture, reading counter comments to my ex's character assassinations, and my possibly still being local, she initiated an all out search to find me and start a relationship. Our dating confirmed her suspicions that my ex was just being vindictive and that I was a good man who would be there for her as a man and possibly be open to fulfilling her desires for an intimate girlfriend.

My wife's confession of her motives for seeking me out and marrying me gave me a huge reason to sit back and rethink my relationship with her. My wife gave me all the time I needed to resolve what ever internal conflicts I had. When it became apparent that I wasn't going anywhere, she again brought up my crossdressing. With a sigh, I came clean and gave her all that she desired to know, along with my suspicions of my mother having taken estrogen during pregnancy as a possible cause. She in turn reassured me that it was all right with her and then leaned across the table to kiss me hard and long. The kiss was soon broken and my wife sat back in her chair and smiled at me. She brought her elbows up on the table, overlapped her fingers, and rested her chin on top of them. With a coy look, my wife asked me to go change into my alternate persona, as she put it. I thought about it, but my crossdressing had always been in private and I just couldn't bring myself to do it in front of my wife even with her claiming to be supportive.

Not being able to dress for my very supportive wife due to issues of personal privacy was just part of the reason. My ex's rants were still strong in my memory and caused me to question my new wife's motives in spite of her claiming to be supportive. Fearing that I could come off as being confrontational, which could quickly escalate into a heated argument, that question and others, went unasked. Instead, I proclaimed that even with full makeup, I didn't look much like a woman and she would find me disappointing at best and laughable at worst. My wife leaned in and intently looked over my face. She completed her survey and straightened back up. The sparkle in her eyes told me that she had discovered something in my face, something that I was not aware of, but didn't say what. Instead, with a smug look, she said that perhaps a more experienced hand with makeup would make enough of a difference for me to pass as a woman, at least in appearance, and she welcomed the challenge. I wasn't convinced I could look any different and continued to decline. My wife wasn't to be denied and changed tactics. She reached across the table and started to stroke my face with her fingers as if she were outlining my facial features. Her magic touch seemed to be enticing me to yield to her wishes … and I did.

Having yielded to letting my wife make me up as a woman, she and I headed for the master bathroom, although I did make a quick detour to my hobby room to retrieve a couple items from a large box buried deep in the closet. It took a bit of time to gain access to the box where I kept my friend, but I was soon pulling out of the large box, my favorite wig and a small box containing my makeup items. I met up with my wife in the master bathroom and handed over my treasures. My wife set the box and wig on top of her side of the vanity, then briefly searched through my makeup box. She then got to work transforming my face using items from both my box and her side of the vanity. She took a lot more time than I ever did during any of my prior dress up sessions. I knew she had finished when she picked up the wig and set it in place upon my head. With a slight wave of her hand, she invited me to examine her efforts in the bathroom mirror.

The extra work my wife did in applying my makeup clearly showed in the finished product, but it still wasn't good enough for me to pass as my wife's girlfriend. I was clearly disappointed and had no desire to complete the transformation by changing into a favorite outfit. With no small amount of disappointment, I asked my wife to remove my makeup. My wife seemed to be even more disappointed than me and knew she couldn't entice me into doing anything more. She reluctantly started to remove the makeup with an intense look of puzzlement on her face. She was about half way finished when her face suddenly lit up as if she had solved whatever puzzle had dominated her thoughts.

My wife stopped removing my makeup to let me in on what she had thought of after scrutinizing my face at the end of dinner. She had formulated the theory that the estrogen my mother took during pregnancy had lessened my developing male facial features, forcing them to be somewhere between male and female. She was sure that she could make the female aspect prominent with makeup, but it didn't work and she couldn't figured out why. It was while she was removing my makeup that a thought suddenly came to her. Her failure to coax the female aspect of my facial features into prominence was because my facial features were too far lost in my overweight influenced face (my wife's way of saying, I had a fat face … which I did.) to be noticed to begin with. My wife went on to propose that losing weight would allow my facial features to emerge and define who I was. She could then bring the female aspect to the forefront with makeup. In a sure of herself manner, my wife proclaimed that I should begin dieting at once. I was anything but open to my wife's hypothesis and even less so to a diet.

A diet, just what I didn't need. I have never been able to stick with one long enough for said diet to do what I wanted it to do when I started it in the first place. It was a weakness I duly informed my loving wife of. She countered by saying that she would join me, adding that she was dying to get into a smaller dress size, and we would take it slow so that our bodies could adjust to the loss and not try to entice us to gain back the lost weight. Hating just the thought of having to go through the motions of yet another failed diet, I pointed out that having a team mate and a new game plan really wasn't going to change anything for me, and any “encouragement” on her part would most likely cause resentment towards her. Heck, if she were persistent, it could build up enough to be a threat to our marriage. My wife just smiled back at me. That's when I finally realized that she had also formulated a surefire enticement that would bend me to her will. Waiting for her to lay it on me was almost painful, and started to build with each passing second.

My wife continued to stand in front of me, smiling, a little while longer, just savoring the moment before hitting me with an enticement she knew I couldn't shy away from. She reached up with one hand to touch and caress my cheek as she pointed out that if she did lose weight, then her current wardrobe would be too big for her and would have to be disposed of it to make room for a new wardrobe. She paused momentarily to let her words sink in before saying that “disposed of” meant giving it away, most likely to charity, OR ... to ME, that is if I slimmed down to her old dress size. Wow, the mere thought of my getting to wear the very outfits she had beguiled me with back when we were dating and now on our evenings out, sent a thrill through me that is hard to describe. Needless to say, we started dieting that very evening.

Starting a diet can be viewed as easy if compared to actually sticking to a diet, which is arguably the most difficult challenge anyone could face. My wife was very supportive but she knew that wouldn't be enough, so she came up with another enticement, one designed to keep me on the diet through to the end. She sprang the new enticement on me as we entered the hard to shed phase. Anyone who has dieted knows what I'm talking about. It's the point in the diet where the last pounds one needs to lose stubbornly hang on no mater how much one starves and exercises. My wife's new enticement consisted of hanging a dress by its hanger on a hook attached to the top of my closet door. It was a stunningly beautiful dress that I had lavishly, and repeatedly complimented her on whenever she wore it. I had secretly desired that dress and had wished I had one just like it in my size. My wife must have seen the desire in my eyes and knew that I wouldn't be able to resist trying it on if given the chance. She also knew that it wouldn't come close to fitting me at first, but could serve as an enticement for me to stick with the diet until it would fit me. My clever wife was right on both counts.

The chance to try on my favorite dress in my wife's wardrobe was an irresistible desire within me, but was not something I could do in front of my wife. With my not being able to look much like a woman, even with makeup and a wig, I was reluctant about my wife seeing me in any dress, let alone one of hers. I would have to wait for a day when I was home alone, but being home alone was a rare occasion for me, as my wife and I usually did things together both at and away from home. That needed to change, so I started to create urgent work for me to do around home when my wife wanted to go out shopping. I knew I couldn't do it often or my wife would get suspicious and call me on it, but that worked in my favor for we were taking weight off slowly so our bodies could adjust and changes in our figures would be equally slow, eliminating the need for frequent checks. Still, I seized every opportunity to try on the dress I so desired no matter how little time had passed from the last time I had attempted to wear it.

Now, trying on my favorite dress in my wife's wardrobe and actually wearing it were two different things. Even though I had lost considerable weight, it was at first a struggle to just get into the dress, forget about the zipper. But as the diet wore on, it became easier to slip into and I could zip it up to my waist. My progress, as slow as it was, was the perfect enticement for me to continue on to my goal, and I did. I never will forget the day I was finally able to work the zipper past my waist and partway up my back. And of course, there was the day when I was able to work the zipper all the way to the top of the dress (with the aid of a string tied to the zipper pull). It should have been a cause for celebration, but the dress was so tight that I feared it would burst into shreds if I so much as moved or even breathed. Reluctantly I pulled the zipper down using the string. The day I could comfortably wear my wife's dress was still a ways off.

The day when I was sure that I could finally wear the dress my wife had hung up on the door of my closet, had arrived. I just needed the opportunity, but my supposedly loving wife wasn't giving it to me. She did need to go shopping, but insisted I go with her for she had met her weight loss goal and needed a new wardrobe, and needed my opinion. The lack of a chance to verify my being able to fit into my wife's old wardrobe wore on me to no end until I could wait no longer. I stopped waiting for a chance to be home alone and started to look for any chance of being separated from my wife long enough for me to try on the dress hanging on my closet door. I figured I only needed five to ten minutes, just enough time to switch my outer clothes for the dress, check the fit, and then switch back. Past experience said that should have a reasonable chance of happening.

The opportunity to confirm that I could fit into my wife's dress came on a day when my wife was occupied with a task in the garden that would keep her busy for at least an hour and didn't really need me around to help her. I had been working nearby bringing out some planting containers from the garage and prepping them for planting. I soon finished that job and then made like I was rearranging things in the garage. Instead, I snuck back into the house and made for the master bedroom. I began taking off my shirt in the hallway leading to the bedroom. It was tossed onto the bed as I sat down on the bed to take off my shoes. My pants were unbuttoned, unzipped, and pushed down my legs as I stood up off the bed. I stepped out of my pants, leaving them on the floor, and headed for my closet door. I paused for a moment to calm and relax myself before taking the dress off of its hanger. The zipper on the dress was pulled down and then I lowered the dress for me to step into. The dress was pulled up, and fitted to my upper body. Reaching behind me, I seized the zipper and started to pull it up. This time there was no resistance at all and the fit was snug but not tight. When the zipper got close to the top, I had to stop to change hand position. I reached over my shoulder from in front and had started to search for the zipper pull with my fingers when the zipper was seized and quickly pulled up. Startled, I quickly turned around to find my wife standing close to me with a look of triumph spread across her face. She had seen me sneak off and knew what I was up to. She had covertly followed me and had waited in the shadows, so to speak, hoping for a chance to join in on my successfully reaching my dieting goal.

Standing before my wife wearing one of her old dresses caused me no end of embarrassment and dread of what she might say, but she said nothing. Instead, she explored the way the dress fit me with her hands, sliding them up, down, and around my upper body as she looked me over. Her touch was as magical as always and combined with the feel of the fabric of the dress, sent waves of pleasure through me. My wife soon completed her exploration and moved one of her hands to my face. She explored the newly emerged contours of my face with her fingers. She suddenly withdrew her fingers, and with a knowing smile, took hold of my hand, and gave me a slight nod of her head in the direction of the master bathroom. I knew what she was up to, she was enticing me into letting her again attempt to transform me into a woman with makeup and a wig. The thought that my new physical appearance in body and face might allow me to finally appear to be a woman, forced upon me the desire to follow my wife into the bathroom.

My wife and I entered the master bathroom where upon I took the same position as the first time I had allowed her to apply makeup to my face. My wife had long ago placed my makeup supplies next to where she kept her own inventory and was able to quickly assemble the same items she had used the first time. She proceeded as before, taking the same amount of time, and ending the same way with the placing of the same wig on my head. The end result was anything but the same.

The setting of the wig on my head signaled that I was free to have a look in the bathroom mirror, and I didn't need any enticements to do so. I turned to stare into the bathroom mirror at my wife's handiwork, not believing what I saw. While I was no beauty, I didn't see a man in makeup and wig either. I was thrilled beyond words and explored my new look from all angles until a counter thought entered my mind: what about my “big boned” body, was it aiding the illusion or shattering it? That was something I really couldn't perceive given the limitation of the bathroom mirror. A different perspective was needed, and I knew where to find it. Without saying a word, I suddenly dashed out of the bathroom and headed for my wife's full length mirror in our bedroom. My wife didn't follow, but chose instead to watch me from the bathroom doorway.

I began to turn this way and that, trying to determine if my body shape added or subtracted from my appearing to be a woman. My final assessment was that my diet had made the needed difference in face and body. I appeared to be overall a female. My attention then turned to my dress. I was really taken by how well the dress fit me and complimented my overall look. It was just as stunning on me as it had been on my wife. I was thrilled to no end, and so was my wife who gave me a round of applause. I turned to proudly accept her praise for it had taken far more than a year to reach my goal. My wife was all smiles as she came up to me. As she slipped her hands around my waist, she surprised me by unexpectedly asking me my name. I was momentarily confused then suddenly caught on. My wife wasn't addressing her husband, but was addressing a woman of interest. Without any further hesitation, I recalled a girl's name that had been my favorite since childhood and gave voice to it. My wife repeated it back to me adding that it was a pleasure to make my acquaintance at long last.

My wife's addressing me by a woman's name and treating me as someone new, served to validate my appearing to be a woman. That was a huge boost to my confidence level which showed in the smile on my face and in my posture. My wife took note of the pleasures I was enjoying and invited me to be her girlfriend for the rest of the day, to which I quickly accepted. Pleased, my wife began my transition from husband to girlfriend by looking me over and complimenting me on my taste in fashion. She went on to say that my outfit would be perfect for an intimate dinner with that special man in my life. She let her words work on my mind before adding that she would very much like to enjoy a similar diner with me that very night. I was thrilled almost beyond words, but managed to calmly say I would love to have a special diner with her. Diner was a long ways off, so my wife suggested that I change into day wear attire, along with appropriate undergarments as she pointed to the lower drawers of her dresser. She then invited me to join her in the living room for some girl time. My wife then left me to choose what to wear from my new wardrobe. I was in crossdresser heaven.

It was some time before I completed an inventory of my new wardrobe. There were so many outfits I wanted to try on, but I also desired to rejoin my wife and immerse myself in being her girlfriend. I finally selected a casual skirt and shirt and laid them out on the bed. I stripped off my dress and laid it on the bed where it would remain until time to dress for diner. The last vestiges of male clothing were also stripped off and stashed in the laundry hamper in the bathroom. A bra and panty set was selected from my new lingerie drawer that was filled with items that were to large for my newly slimmed down wife. The drawer also had a pair of silicone breast forms which were quickly seized. I examined them as I fondled them in my hands and noticed that they had a back designed for use by a woman who had undergone a mastectomy … or by a man who desired a woman's chest. My wife's breasts were natural and intact, which meant that she had gotten the forms specifically for me, perhaps as an enticement for me to be as much of a woman as I could be while dressed as one. I worked out how to apply the forms to my chest and then turned to the mirror to see what kind of a difference they made. The look, the weight, and the way the forms moved as I posed in front of the full length mirror was magical, and forced upon my mind a feeling of my really being female. Thrilled beyond words, I marveled at how I looked until a desire to dress in the selected underwear, shirt, and skirt took over my mind. Shoes were the last item needed to complete my outfit and that was going to be a problem. My feet were definitely bigger than my wife's feet and by enough that trying to squeeze my feet into my wife's shoes wasn't an option. I would have to retrieve a pair of low heel pumps from my hobby room, and did. It was then time to join my wife in the living room as her girlfriend.

Upon entering the living room, my wife greeted me as her best girlfriend and laid out the game plan for the rest of the day. On the surface, it seemed like we would be doing things women did when they got together, but there was more to it. The activities were actually hands on lessons in how to move, pose, and act as a woman. My wife would monitor how I did and would pause what we were engaged in to show me what I should have done whenever my actions were not right or needed to be expanded on. The lessons would turn out to be the biggest factor in my ability to pass as a women in action and mind set, and I immersed myself fully in each and every one. The lessons lasted right up to our bed time.

After a day of girl training, my wife and I retired to the master suite. My wife said she would remove my makeup after I undressed. I didn't want to end my girl time, and so hinted to my wife that I would be open to being her girlfriend for the rest of the night. My wife smiled favorably at the idea before voicing that while she was grateful to have a girlfriend, she also needed a husband, one who would express his thanks and gratitude for the days lessons in bed. Reluctantly, I peeled off my female persona and reset my mind to being male. Soon thereafter, my wife and I were in bed and I got down to pleasuring her in the manner she loved best.

My day as my wife's girlfriend with the night as my wife's husband was the most wonderful time I had spent with the love of my life up to that point in our overall relationship. To say that I wanted more, would be the understatement of all time. My wife loved it just as much and reassured me that there would be much more and better, but didn't elaborate as to what or when. For the time being, my lessons would continue whenever there was an opportunity for some girls only time. It was always a lot of fun, but with little change in what we did, until one evening. That evening started off with a formal but still intimate at home dinner, requiring both of us to dress up in our best evening wear. That was followed by a movie in the living room, during which we engaged in some girl on girl heavy petting. After the movie, we enjoyed a nightcap with some slow dancing. All went as our girl time usually went with one notable difference. There were no lessons, suggestions, or critiques. It suddenly dawned on me that I was no longer my wife's student, but had graduated to being her intimate girlfriend.

My becoming my wife's intimate girlfriend was the most liberating moment for me in our alternate relationship. I let go of my inhibitions and let my female feelings take command of me. As we danced, I became more romantic and affectionate. My wife responded in kind and it wasn't long before we were entwined in a passionate kiss with our hands quickly exploring the others body. It was incredible and different from our usual lovemaking prelude for my wife was caressing my body the same as the way I normally caressed any woman I would be sleeping with. It was her way of saying that she wanted me as her girlfriend and not her husband. I was totally onboard as we silently agreed to take the evenings festivities to the bedroom.

My wife led me by hand into the master bedroom. At the foot of the bed, she turned to face me, put her arms up around my neck, and drew us together in a hard and lengthy kiss. She soon broke our kiss and slid her hands down my chest. She gave me a little push, indicating I was to take a couple of steps backward as she did the same. I knew what was coming, it was something we occasionally did to start our love making. My wife started to strip in a very teasing manner for my enjoyment. I watched her until she stood naked before me, then I stripped for her enjoyment. This too was different due to my having to remove women's clothing and I loved every moment.

I had no sooner peeled off my panties, when my wife backed away to her dresser. She quickly opened the top drawer and drew out two lacy bundles. She quickly came back towards me and extended towards me with one hand one of the bundles. I took hold of what look like a couple of lacy straps with just the fingertips of both hands. As I dragged the bundle off my wife's hand, it unfolded into a short, and very feminine, negligee. The bundle my wife kept proved to be a negligee as well, and she quickly slipped it on, inspiring me to do the same. It was an incredible sensation as the flimsy garment floated down my arms and onto my body. I would have loved to have explored the feel of something that so reeked of feminine sexuality against my body, but my wife was eager to get me into bed. I yielded to her desires.

That night in bed, my wife was more aggressive in our lovemaking and with a difference. She did to me most of what I usually did to her in our foreplay. Her actions told me that I was still her girlfriend, and her husband was going to have to wait for his turn a while longer. As our love making progressed, my wife's behavior towards me remained the same. It definitely wasn't how our prior girl times had ended up, but I continued to accept my being her girlfriend even though we were in bed. My wife was also using some new techniques on me that she had never used before on me as her husband. I responded in kind, pleasuring her in the same manner. She was thrilled, and treated me even more like a woman right up to the moment when we were both ready for intercourse, where upon she abruptly stopped. Turning away from me, she leaned over to pull open the top drawer of her night stand next to her side of the bed. She took out a bundle of leather straps and closed the drawer. My wife plopped the bundle between us and started to separate it into two strapon harnesses. One had a front plate which had an attachment that simulated the average male, if you know what I mean. The other harness had a front plate with a vertically elongated hole at its center. It was easy to guess who was going to wear which harness. It was also apparent that my wife's husband wasn't going to get a turn at all for that night. I will leave what followed to the imagination.

My first night as my wife's intimate girlfriend was emotionally and physically a mixed bag. There was much I liked, and a thing or two I found disturbing. It was the latter that had me questioning myself as to who and what I was. That question was partially answered in nights that followed with my being my wife's husband. The rest was answered when I looked at the experience as a whole and concluded that my first night as a woman, sexually, was the ultimate validation of my passing as a woman both socially and in the bedroom. I then realized that I was living the ultimate crossdressers dream, and willingly embraced all aspects of occasionally being my wife's intimate girlfriend.

My wife and I continued to explore my being both a husband and an intimate girlfriend. Changes were made to both of my personas as we incorporated things we both liked, and made adjustments to address things one of us didn't. During that time, we continued to go out in public on our husband and wife date nights, while our wife and girlfriend date nights were always at home. But it wasn't long before my wife desired to take our girlfriend date nights public. At first she just hinted at going out, but when I didn't take the hint, she flat out asked the female me out to dinner and dancing. I was struck dumbfounded and was only able to stare back at her.

My wife wanting me to go out in public as her girlfriend wasn't something I wanted to do. While I felt that I passed as a woman when dressed with makeup and wig, I didn't feel that I compared well when next to my slimmed down wife. I had a fear that people would see me for what I really was: a crossdressed husband, and I gave voice to my fears. But my wife, who still was never one to be denied, put forth a new theory that all my fears would vanish if I continued to diet until I too was her size. It was something to be considered, but getting down to my wife's old dress size had been physically and mentally exhausting, and I did not want any more. That's when my clever wife presented an enticement similar to the one she employed to get me to start the diet in the first place. She started by pointing out that if I did get down to her size, I would be the one who would need to get a new wardrobe, with clothes that would not be hand me downs, but would be brand new and would reflect my tastes in fashion. That was almost enough to bend me to her will, but she wasn't finished. She then hinted that with us being the same dress size we could borrow clothes from each other. The thought of assembling the perfect outfit from not one, but from two wardrobes, was all the enticement needed to get me to continue the diet.

The enticement of my wife and I having wardrobes we could share with each other, was a strong one, but my wife knew that the chance of it being enough to see me to the end, was slim at best. She figured that it wouldn't hurt to have a reinforcement, an enticement along the lines of the one she used to get me to reach the first goal and which she could surprise me with when it would be needed the most. But this enticement would have to come from a different source. This time she wouldn't be able to pull something from her old wardrobe as that was already mine. As for something from her new wardrobe, she had hinted that I could borrow items from her, so that wouldn't work either. The right enticement would have to come from a new source, and the only thing new was the promise of my own personalized wardrobe, if I got down to her dress size. And the key word in that, was personalized, as in a selection of clothing that would reflect my tastes in women's fashion. But what fashions did the woman within me want to wear? Outside of several pieces in her old wardrobe I showed interest in, my wife really didn't have a complete picture of my inner woman's preferences.

My wife knew that discovering my preferences in women's fashion, then obtaining the perfect outfit, and keep it all secret so as to surprise me at the right moment, was going to take a lot of cleverness on her part. She was up to the task and started to covertly ask me questions pertaining to women's fashion and what I did and didn't like over a lengthy period, usually during an at home dinner date on our girls only nights. Her questions were designed to get me to describe the dress of my dreams without my realizing it. My wife had been successful on all fronts and was able to surprise me with a new enticement on a day when I was so frustrated with the slow progress of my diet, that I loudly gave voice to my readiness to call a halt. That's when my wife calmed me with the magical touch of her fingers on my cheek, and then had me follow her to our bedroom.

My wife enticed me into our bedroom. At the foot of the bed, she turned around to face me and kissed me full on the mouth. I translated her actions as wanting sex and leaned toward the bed. But my wife broke away from me and backed towards her closet. From the back of her closet, came a large, flat, gift wrapped box. She quickly returned to me sporting a big smile and presented the box to me. My disappointment of there not being sex in the works, was instantly replaced with a different kind of pleasure, for I had a suspicion of what kind of box it was and I eagerly sized it. I quickly tore off the wrapping paper with one hand while holding the box to my body with the other, and was pleasantly surprised to find my suspicions were correct. It was an upscale clothing stores box. I supported the box from below with one hand as I pried the lid off with the other. Inside the box was a folded up dress of a color and suggested style that looked very familiar. I unconsciously let go of the lid to take hold of the top of the dress at one edge. I let the box slip off my other hand and watched the dress unfold before me as the box dropped to the floor. My then free hand took hold of the dress at the other top edge and I held the dress out in front of me. It was a perfect match to my dream dress, from the color and style to the hem length. There was just one problem, it was my wife's size, and I wasn't … yet. That was the moment when I knew what I really held, and I knew what to do with it. I quickly headed for my closet with my wife watching, sporting a triumphant smile. I opened the closet door and quickly searched for an empty hanger. I grabbed the first one, and the dress was mounted onto the hanger. I held the hanger up in front of me to again look the dress over before setting the hanger on the hook at the top of my closet door. I stepped back and stared at my dream dress. My wonderful, loving, wife came up to me and slipped her hands around me from behind. I slowly turned around, embraced her, and kissed her long and hard. Our love making that night was intensely passionate and filled with my thanks and gratitude.

My dream dress hanging on my bedroom closet door, was an even greater enticement than my favorite dress in my wife's old “big boned” wardrobe. Of course, as before, I periodically tried it on to check on my progress to my new goal. But this time there was a difference; I didn't wait until I was alone to try it on. My wife often joined me and would make encouraging comments. She was also ready to help me with the zipper as I got closer to my goal. It was a long struggle, but I finally accomplished what I had thought was impossible so long ago.

The proof of my having slimmed down to my wife's dress size came after an afternoon of hard exercise. I was tired and smelly, and all I wanted to do was get a shower and a change of clothes before dinner. The hard spray of hot water against my body was most relaxing and I lingered in the shower longer than usual. I eventually had enough, turned off the water, and dried off with my towel. The towel was wrapped around my hips and I emerged from the bathroom to find my wife sitting on the bed holding a bag. She offered up the bag to me and I took it from her. Inside the bag I found a new set of women's undergarments. Surprised, I looked at my wife. She smiled at me then made a quick nod of her head towards the dress hanging on my closet door. A thrill shot through me as I realized what it all meant.

The thought that at long last my dream dress would fit me lit up my face with anticipated joy. My breast forms were retrieved from my lingerie drawer and fitted to my chest. My towel was quickly replaced with the women's undergarments. The dress was then stripped off the hanger and unzipped. I quickly stepped into the dress and brought it up into place, but I was nervous and scared about trying to zip up my dress, fearing crushing disappointment if the zipper got stuck at some point. My wife could see it in my face. She smiled at me, then motioned for me to turn around. She got up off the bed and seized the zipper pull. I sucked in my tummy and put my shoulders back. My wife quickly yanked the zipper up to the top of the dress with no resistance. That was it, the final proof. I was the same dress size as my wife. My wife took my hand with hers and gave a slight nod of her head in the direction of the master bathroom. I knew what she wanted to do and I willingly yielded.

My wife leading me to the bathroom while I was dressed in woman's clothing told me that she was going to take me the rest of the way, and that was indeed the case. I took my usual position and my wife got to work applying my makeup with a well practiced hand, selecting makeup keyed to my dream dress. She then selected a wig that paired well with the style of my dress and secured it to my head. The last thing needed to complete my look was shoes, which I could pick up from my closet on the way to the full length mirror in our bedroom. In short order, I was standing in front of the mirror dressed from head to toe as a woman. I was by no means a great beauty, but was just an average looking woman, and pleased as all get out. My wife came to stand beside me and I couldn't help but compare myself to her. My wife was better looking, but that didn't reflect poorly on me. Instead, I came off as her girlfriend and not her crossdressed husband.

My appearing to be a girlfriend and not a crossdressed husband wasn't wasted on my wife, and she quickly brought up dinner. I was eager to sit down to an intimate dinner at home as my wife's female lover and said so. My wife was all in favor of my being her female lover, but wanted dinner at a restaurant followed by dancing at a night club. I was quick to loudly say no. My wife just smiled at me. She took hold of my chin and turned my head toward the mirror. She asked me, what did I see. I had already answered my wife's question in my mind when she had joined me at the mirror, but I gave her no answer. I didn't have to, for she already knew the answer. She then said that I owed her for all the help, and girl lessons need to get me to where I was, a passable woman. My wife was right, I was at long last passable as a woman, and it was due to her efforts and enticements over a lengthy time. I owed her a lot, and I could start paying her back by agreeing to go out in public as my wife's lesbian lover … and I did. I came to love it, but will hold off relating the adventures that followed, for it's something that needs to be experienced for one's self, and what I experienced will be different from what anyone else will experience. That sort of makes it special, and in turn, private. Be it far from me to change that.