The wife found out her husband is a hidden cross-dresser. How far is she going to accept this and what conditions is she going to ask him?
Two weeks passed since I found my husband, Aslan, wearing my clothes and my make-up. For a while I was strongly repulsed of this, but slowly, I accepted. I want to draw a line in his life, how far should he go with this. The reason behind this is that in this part of the world gay people are killed. Cross-dressing might not end-up with death, but if it is associated with gay behavior... it could.
since then, I started to read about cross-dressing, about transgender people and sexual minorities. Two weeks ago, such subjects would be unacceptable for me. But now, I am really interested into such things. I start to understand such people.
Two friends helped me. One is Astana, the librarian, a woman that is a perfect asexual. The purpose of her life is to read and help others. She helped me, giving me links to articles that made me understand very much. The other one is Dmitry, a former KGB agent that hides in our town dressed as a widow Muslim woman. He convinced me that killing is a far greater sin then belonging to a sexual minority. Well, not long time ago I would never had accepted such thing. 12 years ago, a man, accused of being gay, was killed in this town. I accepted this and considered those who did it as servants of the gods. But now, it is like I am a different person.
**********
Today I return from work later then Aslan. Before going home, I stop in the bazaar and buy some items for cleaning the house. Also, I find a blouse that would fit me well and one for him. I will continue to support his cross-dressing, but on the other hand I want to make him feel how painful it is to be a woman. I hope this will limit his desire to a secure point. As I walk home, I continue making my plan. It should work. If it does, I will laugh today with tears.
I enter home. I hear the TV running. He is there, watching TV, dressed like a man and smoking a cigarette. He stands up, comes and hugs me.
"Welcome home, Abida", he says. "Hope you had a fine day at work".
"Yes, I did", I say. "But now, I am hungry".
"There still is enough food in the kitchen", he says.
I look at him, analyzing from hair to toes.
"Are you not dressed like a woman?" I ask.
"I would never dare to do that without your permission", he answers.
"Then", I say, with a big smile, "when you come home, first thing you dress as a woman. After that, you do anything else. Change, I will wait you in the kitchen".
I give him the new blouse and go to the kitchen, waiting. I might be hungry, but I don't eat. If he wants to be a woman, he has to learn what being a woman means. Instead of eating, I smoke a cigarette. Somehow, smoking kills the sensation of hunger, but it is only an illusion. Many teen girls do this to lose weight. As I am getting close to 40, for me, this is no longer important. Well, he comes right when I finish the cigarette.
He has his demi-opaque white pantyhose. Without hair, since I epilated him, his feet look like those of a woman. The painted toenails are hardly visible through the pantyhose texture. He wears plastic sandals. It is better to do so in the house, to avoid ripping them. He has a short white skirt and the white blouse I both him today. The blouse is short and exposes his belly, with the ring I pierced him yesterday. And with the help of a bra, he creates the illusion of small breasts. He applied some make-up and a lipstick on his face. This is the way a woman should do, little, not in excess. The earrings, the necklace, bracelets and sunglasses really give the image of a woman. He looks close to how a woman should look like. The only thing that needs to be done now is his hair. A longer, painted hair, should do the trick. But, if I do that, he will no longer resemble a man when he goes outdoors.
I examine him for 3 minutes, thinking how could he pass as a woman if one day he will be walking on the street. Then, I feel my stomach, asking for food.
"In most families", I say, " the husband comes from work and fixes his ass in the coach, watching TV. He never does anything else. For the woman, life is really harsh. She comes from work and has no time. She has to cook, to serve her husband, to clean the whole house, to wash clothes, while her man sits and does nothing".
He listens carefully. He is not that kind of guy, instead he helped me many times in the house.
"Then," I continue, "what comes? The wife would like to watch TV, to see soaps and whatever she likes. But the husband never lets her do this. He watches that boring football. What do men find so interesting, watching some guys who run after a ball for hours? The wife has no other option but to watch what she doesn't like. And then comes the most horrible part".
He continues to listen. He never did that. Yes, once or twice he wanted to watch an action movie, but usually I rule the TV.
"There are two options for the horrible part. First: he gets drunk. It all starts with a little glass, then another one and so on. In the end, he gets drunk. He starts behaving badly, beats his wife or even... worse. When they go to bed, he intoxicates her with his alcohol-flavored breath. Fucking infidels! The second option is like this: He rests while the wife cooks, washes and cleans the house. After all that, she is tired, while he is fresh. He wants sex, she wants to sleep. Many times, this is like a rape. This is how it is to be a woman".
"But I never treated you like that", he says.
"True", I answer. "But, if you look at not majority but ALL our neighbor families, you will see this. So, I want today to play a game. You want to see how it is to be a woman? Well, today you are going to serve me food, to stay with me, to serve me. And then, you are going to cleanup all the house and wash clothes. I don't ask you to cook, because there are many things you don't know about making food. So, do you want to start this?"
He looks at me a bit puzzled, then says:
"Ok. I will".
"Fine!" I say, with a big smile. "Then, you must acknowledge that I am hungry".
Without hesitating, he prepares me food. We have a soup made of vegetables. I am served. I eat, he stays near me, bringing me a glass of tea and bread. Then, he serves me with fresh cheese and an egg. And then, he brings me cookies with a glass of milk. Very good!
I am amazed how he listens and executes everything I say. So, a sissy is submissive. Is this what he wants? Is this how I should go along with him? It is not something I like. Still, there is a part of him that doesn't like this too. Then, we finish eating and I ask him to bring cigarettes and a lighter. He does this, just like a maid and not like a husband. We smoke. I correct him a few times. He must smoke like a woman if he wants to be like one.
I also notice that all this causes a sexual pleasure to him. He moves his feet, trying to hide an erection. That is strange, maybe even funny. At least for me, this comes with no sexual feeling. I was always amazed how fast men are turned on. It is like turning a switch. For us, women, things are far more different. We are like an engine. First, the engine needs to be started, then heated, then it works completely different.
After this, I say:
"Now I go to the TV and you wash the dishes. Then, you clean the whole house".
This is just what happens. I go to the TV and look at the news. Things are like always. People refuse to pay taxes. Everyone is accused of corruption, but nothing ever happens. Like always, the government has no option but to print money, to pay all its functionaries. Inflation must remain at 40%, otherwise a destabilization will cause again hyperinflation. We know well what that means: chaos and famine. Roads are damaged, railways are damaged, electricity networks are damaged; government has no money for that, ever. Industrial groups are repairing the infrastructure on their own, so that they can transport their goods. Industrial groups? That is the mafia. It is the mafia that keeps the economy alive. Many counterfeited products sold in the Civilized World come from here. Cigarettes, alcohol, all come from here. Also, we produce coal and wood, silk and a few other goods, all sold on the black market. There are drugs too, but they always are a secondary part of the picture. Each mafia leader says that "the coal must flow", that "the grass (tobacco) must flow" or "the drink must flow". they don't want conflicts and keep a level of peace, keeping drug dealers out of the picture. They are the only ones that bring money in here.
Sick of these ever repeating news, I go to watch a movie. In this time, Aslan comes in the room and starts cleaning the dust. Then, he does this in other rooms. I see him again, with a broom, cleaning dust from the carpets.
I light a cigarette and he leaves the broom, coming to smoke with me.
"No, not like this", I say. "You've seen many times how women clean and cook. If they want to smoke, they keep the cigarette in the mouth and don't stop what they are doing".
Aslan does exactly this. He lights the cigarette and keeps it in the mouth, cleaning the carpets with a broom. Smoke gets in his eyes. He doesn't like this, but I smile. He is trying the best to do this like a woman. And he is very close to how a woman would do such a thing. Only on rare occasions he takes the cigarette out of his mouth. Well, may I say her mouth? Because dressed like this, it looks like I no longer have a husband, but a maid... and she tries the best to really be one.
After two hours, he is done and comes to sit near me, to watch TV. We both sit on the coach. We take off our sandals and take our feet up on the coach. There is no way but to touch both our feet. We smoke a cigarette. Then, in the middle of maybe the most interesting part of that movie, electricity turns off. A blackout.
"It looks like there is no more TV for tonight", he says.
I look again at him. At a first look, anyone would say he is a woman. But, at a closer look, one would realize that he is not. He has no real breasts. Just push on the bra and you will notice it. also, his face is a bit different then that of a woman. No matter how much he tries to shave, there is a difference. And even more, the bones of his face are a bit different. I don't know what, but there is something that tells me this. However, the biggest difference is his voice. He clearly has the voice of a man. How can we make that change? There are women with a more bass voice. Long term smoking does that. But, still, the voice of a heavy smoking woman is not like the voice of a man. Is there any way this can be changed? And is there any way that, when he goes to work he can change it back? It is like the problem with his hair. I could paint it, to resemble a woman, but when he is at work, he will have major problems.
"Aslan, tell me the truth", I say. "Have you ever wished to be a woman?"
"Abida..." he says, hesitating to answer.
"I want the truth", I say, short. "No lie, no long talking. Did you ever whished to cross gender barrier and become a woman?"
"Yes, I did", he answers. "And not only once. But I long stopped wishing that".
"You still wish it somehow... or at least a part of you", I say, pinching him by one foot and showing the pantyhose layer.
"True", he says. "But you know that is impossible".
"So, you did wish that", I say, thinking what to do. "Even after I showed you what is to be a woman?"
"I don't know", he says. "Yesterday and today experiences made me confused".
"Well, there are many other things you don't know", I say. "To be a woman, it is very painful. Today, I want to explain it all to you. Everything you seen these two days is nothing compared to all the rest. Do you have any idea how painful is to have menstrual bleeding? You don't know. As a man, I don't think you can understand this at all but theoretical. It is so painful and lasts for long, that... It is... It hurts you from the inside. What you experienced when I epilated you, is almost nothing compared to it. Sometimes, it gets so intense, that you hardly see where you're walking. To make it all even worse, you have to hide it from everyone else. This is because people will make fun of you. And even if it is that painful, you've probably never seen a woman complaining about this pain. Men have no idea and they want their wives to cook, to work, to have sex, no matter what".
"I never knew just how hard it is..." he says, looking at me.
Everything is harder as a woman", I continue. "I've never seen a man with a penis infection, but believe me there are many women with genital infections. We have to wash inside. Many times, it is your semen that causes an infection. For a man, there is no big deal. He empties his balls inside a woman and lets it all go. For a woman, she needs to wash herself carefully each time. Even without having sex, this can happen. And believe me, it is painful. The infection can then move up to the kidneys, which is even worse. You will never get it out from there. You will need medication and there is no hospital around. And even if it were, we don't have the money for that".
I light a cigarette, watching him, to make sure he understands this all.
"You know why I cannot have children?"
"I do", he says.
"Because of an infection", I continue. "Not treated in time, it could had killed me. But I managed to go to the Land Of Dictators and purchase some pills. Sometimes, I regret that I didn't die. The pain I carry, unable to have children, is far worse then the pain of menstrual bleeding. A man can understand this only theoretical, but I tell you, this is far worse".
He looks at me, trying to find his words to caress me. I suffered many times because I cannot have children.
"And this is not all", I continue. "You know Gazelle? She died of cancer, from her genital organs. The same happened with Kitty. I've never seen a man to suffer from penis cancer or balls cancer. Not at all. But us, women, many of us lost our lives because of this".
"I know", he says.
"Still, you do not know enough", I continue. "Being a woman, comes with great risks. What do you know about rapes? Sexual abuses? How many women endured this? Many lost their minds, because it is a horrible experience. You know Tatiana and Adrastea? They both went insane because of this. Other women end-up as whores after a rape. I don't know what is happening, probably it is a result of hormonal damage. Finally, there are many women who ended-up as sfenists".
"I know sfenists", he says.
"They are at the border between normal and insane", I answer. "After years of pain and suffering, they manage to live a normal life. However, sex will never be something pleasant for them, if they will be able to do such thing at all".
"They suffer even more when parents and society force them to get married", he says.
"The same happens with women, when they are sold or married against their wish", I say. "Many times, this ends-up in a never-ending pain".
He looks at me. This time, he is no longer confused, but sad of what he heard. I bet he never knew that women's life is so harsh.
"How is it to be a woman?" I say, in a conclusion. "Pain. Men have no idea how it is. It starts with the most easy and simple things. For example, the way you piss. Men solve this problem very easy. They turn their back and piss in front of a tree or a wall. But women? Do you have any ideas how many times I had to hold on, sometimes desperate to take a piss? It is harder for a woman. It is like for a man to find a place to poop, that's how hard it is".
"Sorry", he says.
I take the last dose of smoke from my cigarette, put the filter in the ashtray, blow a thick cloud of smoke in the room and say:
"Now, after you know all this, do you still want to be a woman?"
"No, not like this", he answers. "I must confess that I like cross-dressing. I am probably addicted to this. But, I am not willing to transform myself into a woman, even if it were possible. When I was a teen, I dreamed that, but not now. I never had any idea how painful it is".
I have a feeling of relief. Cross-dressing in the house is something we can handle, that does not cross a limit beyond which everything changes dramatically. Maybe I played the game as it should be played... or maybe not. Only time will tell. If he wants to go further, he will risk his life anyway. He will never go that far.
"Abida", he says suddenly.
"Yes", I answer.
"Did you ever wanted to become a man?"
Wow! This question strikes me like the pawns in a bowling alley. I never expected him to ask me such a thing, ever. I decided to hide this subject from him. The reason I allowed and even helped him to practice cross-dressing in the house is not only that I love him, but that many times in past I wished I were a boy. Well, not quite a boy, actually a shemale.
"I think you did", he answers, thinking of my silence.
"Please, I am too tired now", I find a fast excuse. "I will answer you tomorrow".
I will have to tell him the secret one day. May it be a shame, may it be a sin, honesty and sincerity are basic things that must exist in a family. So, I will have to tell him all at some point.
TO BE CONTINUED
