Darrin is Bewitched - Conclusion

Samantha had been censured by the Witches Council and ordered to make things right Task is in compliance with current policies and guidance ‘or else.’ Or else’s were never good in the world of witchcraft.

Sam returned to the scene of her crime to try to make things right. The first thing she did was wipe clean everyone’s memory of the slut Jessica. Now all they remembered now was a poor young girl who got herself in the family way and sought refuge with her big sister. Tabitha was viewed as a saint, being abandoned by her husband and still taking in her sister during her pregnancy. Samantha tracked down Jessica and using her powers arranged for her to get a well-paying job as a travel agent in the next town over. A job that would bring her into contact with a lot of people that she might be attracted to.

Getting Tabitha’s life back on track was a hard nut to crack. With her husband out of the picture, Tabitha was set for life financially. Samantha worked on Tabitha to get her to see the necessity of finding a new man in her life. It took a while but Samantha the matchmaker finally found a suitable beau. It took three months of courting before he finally proposed to Tabby.

She had been watching Texass' situation at the same time she was trying to fix the damage she had done to Tabitha.
She watched from the side yard as Texass arrived home from a hard day at work stumbling in the front door. She dropped her purse on the floor and walked into the living room where she collapsed onto the couch and massaged his jaws, tired from a hard day at work. Texass kicked off her heels and wiggled her toes in relief.

His wife, Kelly, came into the room and saw her former husband resting. Standing over him, she said threateningly, “Aren’t you forgetting something? You aren’t trying to hold out on me are you? Remember what happened last time you did that. It wasn’t pretty and you couldn’t sit for a week. Now hand over your tips!”

Before his transformation from Tex into Texass, he was larger than his wife and would have laughed in her face before knocking her across the room. Now Texass only lifted her skirt to reach into the top of her pantyhose and retrieved a wad of greenbacks. She unfolded them and sheepishly handed them to his wife.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway drew their attention and interrupted any additional intimidation Kelly might have subjected Texass to. Samantha smiled as she watched two police officers step out of the patrol car, her anonymous tip was producing results. They moved cautiously to the front door, each with a hand resting on their holstered service revolver.

Seeing the police car in the driveway and then having the officers knocking on the door scared Kelly. She stuffed the money into her bra until she could count it and went to answer the door. She was calm enough when she opened the door.

“Yes? How may I help you?”

“We're looking for your husband," one of the officers said. "We have a warrant for his arrest.”

Kelly was not really surprised to hear them say that. She frowned though and asked, “What did he do?”

"Ma'am, he's a suspect is at least three cases of rape, one of which was a minor. The DA has DNA evidence."

Seeing the woman fidgeting on the couch, the lead officer asked, “Who is that young lady and is there anyone else in the house?”

“She is my husband’s fraternal twin sister; she lives with me. We are the only ones here.”

Texass shifted nervously in his seat. He wasn’t sure if his DNA had been altered to equal his new sex, but he sure hoped so.

The officer turned his attention back to Kelly. “Do you know your husband’s whereabouts?”

“I’m sorry officer all I can tell you is he doesn’t live here anymore. The last I saw of him was when he left on a cross country trip in his rig. He never came back.”

“We found his truck cab abandoned at a truck stop not too far from here. In fact, it is within walking distance. Now you need to tell us what you know. He is in big time trouble and his life could be in danger. The minor he raped is the local mafia Don’s daughter. You know what they do to people that cross them. We found the last guy that screwed with one of their woman. All I can tell you is that they tortured him before they put him in a steel shipping container on a ship headed to South Africa. They were nice enough to leave him with plenty of food and water.”

Tex shivered at the image of dying at the hands of the Mafia. Kelly looked the officers in the eye and said, “You're free to search the place if you want. I assure you the man is not here.”

The officers took Kelly's invitation and conducted a detailed search of the house but could not find anyone matching their suspect’s description. One even checked the bathrooms looking for toilet seats being up, but didn’t find any.

As the officers drove away, Texass jumped up and hugged his wife.

“You know Kelly, maybe being turned into a whore isn’t so bad after all. It just saved me from a life sentence and a horrible death. Plus, my current profession pays really well and it's tax free.”

Samantha smiled, the Council certainly couldn’t complain if her victim was happy with his new life. She snapped her fingers to return to Tabitha, satisfied that she did not need to do anything more here.

@ @ @ @

Tabitha had accepted Dick's proposal of marriage more out of loneliness than love. Dick wanted to move in with her and start partaking of what he felt were his conjugal rights. Tabitha insisted that they wait for their honeymoon to partake of sex. That didn’t mean they weren’t spending all of their spare time together.

All the wedding plans had been formalized and on a sunny Saturday morning the couple went for a drive. Seeing an open travel agency, they pulled in to see what kind of deals that they might have for a honeymoon.

Dick, a tall trim, handsome man with a longish chin, held the door open to allow Tabby to enter first. Two steps in, Tabitha stopped dead in her tracks. Jessica was seated at an agent's desk and Tabitha immediately saw that she had kept her fem name as her nametag read Jessica. Dick stopped cold when he saw her as well; but for an entirely different reason.

Jessica barely registered their presence as she scanned the travel brochure before her. She mechanically inquired how she might help them before she actually looked up at them. As she actually focused on who was before her, Jessica's manner changed radically.

Dick spoke into the sudden silence. “This is my fiancée and we are looking for a romantic location for our honeymoon. What would you recommend? Money is no issue.”

Jessica came around her desk in a state of shock. Tabitha rushed to her and threw her arms around her as she covered Jessica's face with a series of kisses and commenced to squeeze the breath out of her estranged husband/baby sister.

Dick was taken back at the emotional response from his fiancée. “I take it you two have met before.”

Tabitha was lost for words and merely said, “Dick meet Jessica.”

"How do you know each other?" he asked.

Jessica spoke up, “Tabitha was my landlady for a while. I rented a room in her home while I was expecting my baby. Tabby helped get me through some really tough times. I am eternally grateful for what she did for me.”

Dick said, “Oh, you must have known her ex-husband then.”

“Why yes, we were quite close for a while. But I don’t miss having him around.”

Tabitha asked, “Really? You aren’t upset with the way things worked out?”

Jessica smiled wryly. “Oh heavens no. My time with you was what made me the woman I am today. I am happy with my life. I have a beautiful healthy daughter and a fun, well-paying job.”

Tabitha noticed there was no mention of a man in her life and couldn’t hold back her emotions, as a wave of guilt washed over her and a torrent of tears flowed from her eyes.

She finally managed to pull herself together and asked, “How are you doing? It's been a long time since you moved out.”

“I am doing alright; I have a good job." Then she pointed to a picture frame on her desk and said, “Darlene is growing like a weed. She is the joy of my life.”

“I am glad to hear that. Have you found anyone to share your life with?”

“No, it looks like it will always just be the two of us girls.”

Jessica could see the way Dick was looking at her chest so, out of jealousy and a tad of meanness, she faced Dick and confessed, “I tried men for a while and there were a number of one night stands but they just aren’t my thing. I hope to never see another dick again in my life. I'm a confirmed lesbian.”

Jessica diverted their attention back to the reason they had entered the travel agency in the first place. She led them to the conference room and laid out a number of brochures. As she sat across from Tabitha discussing the advantages of each, Jessica mischievously played footsie with Tabby under the table. Dick made the decision without consulting his future wife, settling on a weeks’ vacation to Fiji. As the couple got up to leave, Jessica handed her business card to Tabitha and held her hand up like a mock phone and mouthed the words to Tabitha, ‘Call me.’

Jessica thought Dick had a somewhat weasel-like appearance. She wasn’t sure if it was jealously or an accurate observation. In any case, if that is what made Tabitha happy she would accept it, she just didn’t have to like it.

Dick stopped by a week later to pick up his tickets and itinerary. The creep spent the entire time talking to Jessica’s chest. His whole manner just felt slimy to her. When he asked for one of her business cards, she told him she was all out. So he asked for her home number. Knowing better than to hand out her own number, she made up one on the spur of the moment.

@ @ @ @

It was almost a year later when Jessica answered her phone to find Tabitha on the other end. They exchanged pleasantries for a while before Tabby asked if Jessica and her daughter would like to come over for a bar-b-que and a swim in the pool she had put into the back yard. It sounded like fun so Jessica quickly accepted the invitation and asked if she could bring anything mentioning she makes a killer potato salad. They agreed on a time and Jessica went back to work.

As the days passed, she wasn’t sure how she was going to handle Tabitha being with another man. She decided to make the best of it, as a swim party would be good fun for her daughter. She spent the night before making her culinary contribution and had a debate with herself on which suit she would wear, her scandalously tiny bikini or her more conservative one piece. She ultimately threw caution to the wind and packed her bikini deciding to let the chips fall where they might. If the dick Dick was there and made a pass at her, maybe it would open Tabitha’s eye on the kind of man he was.

As Jessica drove up her old street, a wave of nostalgia threatened to overwhelm her. She parked her SUV in the driveway and began the process of unloading. She arrived at the front door, her beach bag at her feet, balancing the large bowl of potato salad, and her daughter hiding behind her legs. Her first impulse was to just walk into like he had done so many times before. With her hand in the doorknob, she stopped herself and lightly rapped on the door. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

The door opened and there stood Tabitha barefoot and wearing a multi colored beach cover-up, her makeup perfectly accentuating her girl next door looks.

Jessica wasn’t sure what kind of reception she would receive. Much to her astonishment, she got none. Instead, Tabitha brushed passed her and went to Darlene who was trying to hide behind her mother’s skort. Tabitha picked up the child in her arms and covered her face with a series of butterfly kisses, which had the child giggling wildly.

Inviting Jessica into the house, Tabitha took the bowl of potato salad and set it on an end table. She sat down on the couch and placed Darlene on her lap. Eventually turning her attention to Jessica she asked “How have you been?

“Fine, looking around I see you have made a few changes.”

“Yes, I used your money to redecorate our house. In addition to the pool, I added an extra bedroom. It was to be a nursery.”

At that, Jessica’s heat skipped a beat. She half sat, half fell into her old lounge chair. She recovered enough to ask, “Is there a little one around? Darlene loves to play with other children.”

Tabitha shook her head. “No, sadly that wasn’t to be."

Remembering her duties as a hostess, Tabitha said, “Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?”

Jessica smiled and replied, “An ice tea with no sugar would be nice, thank you.”

Tabby stood up and looked over at Darlene, “I have some Kool Aid in the frig would you like some?”

Looking to her mother for permission, Jessica nodded yes and the little lady answered, “Yes please. What flavor is it?”

“I think it is cherry, is that alright?”

That got a squeal of delight followed by a leg hug from the tiny tike. Tabitha reached down and took her by the hand and said “Come on, you can help.” The two disappeared into the kitchen. Jessica relaxed and wondered where Dick was. As she sat, she heard a series of giggles emanating from the kitchen. Jessica was delighted that Tabitha appeared to be bonding with her daughter.

When they returned, Darlene was carefully holding a sippy cup with both hands. Tabby had a red stained mustache around her lips as did Darlene. Tabby smiled at Jessica and explained, "We had to test taste it to make sure it was up to little girl standards." She handed a tall glass of iced tea to her ex-husband, placing her own on the coffee table. Taking a seat on the couch, Tabitha helped Darlene up so she was sitting next to her.

Jessica watched the happy domestic scene and saw for the first time the strong family resemblance between Darlene and her ex.

Jessica enjoyed the cool drink and finally asked, “Is Dick going to be joining us?”

Tabitha sighed and said, “No, I threw him out. It only took me a few months to realize he only saw me as a meal ticket. He wanted my money more than he did me. I am a two time loser when it comes to husbands."

Her words were like a dagger into the Jessica's heart. She started to apologize, “Tabby I am so sorry….I”

Tabitha dismissed her comments with a wave of her hand. She faced her guests and said, “With a show of hands, who wants hamburgers or hotdogs I have lots of each.”

Not surprisingly, Darlene voted for both. With the menu set, the girls all went to change into their swimwear.

Jessica was glad she opted for the bikini as that was Tabitha’s choice also. The two woman lounged around the pool and enjoyed the sun. Looking at his ex’s body tanning in the warm sun, Jessica could kick himself for wanting to change anything all those months ago. From his current position, he realized that Tabitha's breasts were a much better size than the large melons she herself had to deal with every day.

Tabitha, trying to be the perfect hostess, produced a bottle of waterproof sunscreen and smeared it all over the toddler, which set off another round of chuckles. After securing arm floaties on Darlene, they let her splash around in the shallow end of the pool. Tabitha came over to Jessica and offered to do her back.

Jessica rolled over on her stomach which was no easy task, her damned milk jugs were a persistent reminder that reality has no correlation with fantasy. Tabby quickly untied the strings of her straining top. The application of sunscreen soon turned into a backrub. Jessica was totally relaxed until Tabby got to the small of her back, where her hands found their way under her bottoms and she began massaging her gluteus maximus. When Jessica looked over her shoulder in a quizzical look, she just answered, “What? I’m Just trying to be thorough. I’ll stop if you want.” Jessica just responded with a purr.

After a few minutes, Tabby rolled Jessica over onto her back. Doing so caused her top to fall aside. Tabitha couldn’t help but notice that Jessica's nipples were firm and protruding from her chest. Tabitha filled her hands with more lotion and dove right in applying it to Jessica’s front, paying special attention to her gorgeous boobs. Jessica was only human and couldn’t resist the urge to wrap her hands around Tabitha’s neck and pull her down on top of her. In a matter of minutes, the two were necking like a pair of hormonal teenagers. Jessica was moaning like she approaching a climax.

They quickly rolled away from each other as Darlene rushed over to the two and asking, “Mommy, are you alright?”

Jessica blushed deep red as she raised her head and said, “Yes dear, mommy is wonderful, I haven’t felt this good in years.”

All three took a dip in the pool to cool off. They climbed out and Tabitha decided it was time to eat. While she fired up the grill, Jessica made runs into the house to retrieve plates, condiments, salads, and cool drinks. Every time she was out of sight Tabitha would slip Darlene a few chips, which she would stuff in her mouth. With cheeks bulging, she wasn’t fooling anyone.

Jessica’s only comment was directed to the two miscreants, “Just don’t ruin your appetite.”

Both answered simultaneously, “Yes mother.” Which got a belly laugh out of all three of the girls.

After eating, all three helped clean up. Tabitha washing, and Jessica and Darlene drying. As they put that last of the silverware away Jessica told Darlene that it was time to go.

Darlene threw a temper tantrum. “But mommy I don’t want to go. Why can’t we live with Aunt Tabitha, I love her and don’t want to go back to our crummy apartment.”

Tabitha said, “The child has a good point. I have plenty of room with two extra bedrooms. I do get lonely here by myself and you would be doing me a favor staying over. It would save you having to pay rent.”

“Thanks, but I would have to pay my own way.”

“Jessica, let’s compromise. I don’t have a need for your money. I have always hated keeping house and cooking. How about you pick up those chores and we’ll call it even.”

Darlene was pulling on her mother skirt, “Say yes mommy. Say yes. Pretty please?”

“Okay, I know when I’m out numbered. We will move our stuff tomorrow after church, now we really should be going, I am sure aunt Tabby has things she wants to do.”

Tabitha stood in the doorway as a roadblock. “Darn right I do. I want to get a big bowl of ice-cream and watch a movie with my new roommates.”

Jessica knew where the DVDs were kept and, with her daughter’s help, picked out a G-rated chick flick. They had just situated themselves in front of the Samsung 55 inch HD TV as Tabitha returned with a large bowl of Neapolitan ice cream and three spoons. A small squabble arose when all three claimed chocolate as their favourite. To prevent duelling spoons, it was agreed each girl would get one spoonful then pass the bowl to the next. Darlene insisted the bowl remain in her lap. Whenever the adults weren’t looking she would sneak an extra spoonful. No one objected and all three had a great evening. Come bed time, Jessica was tucking her daughter in bed. She looked up at her mother and asked “Mommy, is Tabitha really my aunt?”

“Yes dear and much more. Now go to sleep, tomorrow's Sunday and we need to get up early to get you ready for Sunday school.”

“Okay mommy, I think I am going to like living here.”

“Yes dear, so am I.”

Samantha was watching from the bushes outside the living room and was extremely pleased with herself. She only had one more thing to accomplish. Tonight would be the night that got her back into the good graces of the Witches Council.

@ @ @ @

Jessica hadn’t brought any night clothes and nothing of Tabitha’s would fit her voluminous figure, so she slept in the nude. Around midnight, the weather turned and the sky filled with black, ominous thunder clouds. The wind howled, the windows rattled as loud thunder claps shook the house.

Jessica was in that nether world between sleep and wakefulness when she felt the bed creak. In her dreamy state, she thought that her daughter had crawled into bed with her. Her eyes shot open when she felt someone spoon into her back. Unless her daughter had magically developed womanly boobs, she knew this someone was not Darlene. She rolled over and was face to face with Tabitha who was likewise without bedclothes.

With one hand holding Jessica’s boob, Tabby nonchalantly said, “Hi sweetheart. I've missed you. I didn’t realize how much until we shared that kiss his afternoon. I don’t like thunder storms and I really don’t want to alone tonight. May I spend the night here with you?”

Neither woman had been with another person for a long time. The day had been like Shangri-La for both of them. The night was spent renewing old forgotten passions. The morning found both woman exhausted and sexually sated.

Samantha still perched in the oak tree was grinning from ear-to-ear, she loved it when a plan came together.

The three of them did their hair and, since Jessica did not have any appropriate church attire, they decided to just let Darlene go to Sunday school. While she was in class, the two adults sat in the fellowship hall and shared a cup of coffee. Jessica had never been happier and it showed. Tabitha on the other hand was more subdued. She sat staring off into space with a frown on her face.

Jessica asked, “Tabby, what’s the matter?”

Tabitha's response was slow in coming. “I loved being with you again last night.” From her body language, Jessica knew there was a ‘BUT’ coming

“Go on.”

The flood gates opened and tears ran down Tabitha’s cheeks, “I tried! I really tried! But I am just not cut out to be a lesbian. I am so sorry. Last night was a onetime thing.”

Jessica was taken by surprise. “Was it something I did or didn’t do? I can change.”

“No, it’s me. I do love you, but I just can’t make love to you. As good as it feels, there is something inside me that says it’s all wrong.”

There was a long moment of silence, neither woman knowing what to say. The tension was broken when the room began to fill with a gaggle of small pre-schoolers looking for their juice and donuts. Darlene hopped up on Tabitha’s lap and asked her mother, “Can we go home now?”

Jessica managed to get out a sobbing reply, “I don’t know dear you need to ask Tabitha.”

Tabitha wrapped Darlene in a hug to distract her from her mother's sadness. “Of course we can. Let’s go home and you can help make breakfast for me and my sister. How does pancakes and sausage sound?"

“I love pancakes. Can I have extra syrup?

Jessica said, "Yes dear, if you wear a bib.”

Darlene's frown at her mother's statement was typical of a child. “Oh, Mommy bibs are for little girls. I’m a big one now.”

Stepping into the bright sunshine Jessica brought her hand ostentatiously to shield her eyes from the bright sunlight, but in reality it was to clandestinely wipe the tears from her cheeks. On the way to the car, a heartbroken Jessica looked at Tabitha and said, “Sisters?”

“Yes, I think that will be the best for now. I love both of you two girls and want nothing more than to share my life with you.”

Jessica stared off into space for the longest time before resuming their conversation. “Tabby, based upon what happened last night, it's obvious that you still have womanly needs and desires. What happens to us when those urges become overwhelming?”

Ignoring the fact that she had been the one to enter Jessica's bed, Tabitha attempted to deflect some of the responsibility. “Don’t lay that all at my doorstep. You were a wild woman yourself last night. If those urges become too strong, we will go pick up a pair of brothers and double date."

Jessica made a scrunchy face and answered, “I would prefer a brother and his sister?”

At that moment, Samantha was enveloped in a cloud of dark smoke and a thunderous voice said “Come home now”

Within seconds Samantha found herself in a clearing in the Black Forest. The Witches Council had been convened.

Samantha found herself on trial for maliciously interfering with mortals. Her defense of trying to right wrongs was considered and rejected. After a brief recess, the Council reconvened and pronounced sentence. Samantha was to lose all of her powers and would have to live out her life as a mortal male. Samantha was stoic at losing her powers but collapsed and pleaded that her banishment as a male was cruel and unusual punishment. When her words fell on deaf ears, his wails of anguish could be heard for miles.

Sam found himself on a transatlantic flight in tourist class sitting behind a mother with two wailing infants that never stopped crying for the entire flight.

@ @ @ @

Sam made his way via taxi to Tabitha’s front door. He knocked and waited for it to open, unsure of his reception.

Tabitha opened the door and took in the stranger on her doorstep, she gave him the once-over and said, “Yes, can I help you?”

“Tabby, it’s me Samantha, your old roommate.”

“I'm sorry. I don’t know what kind of joke you’re trying to pull but you’re not Samantha."

He asked, "Can’t I come just for a minute and explain?”

Tabitha started to close the door and stopped, “You do remind me of someone. Is there any chance you are related to my ex-husband Darrin? You do have his eyes and his chin.”

She showed him to their family room and went to make coffee and secured a kitchen knife in the folds of her skirt just in case. Jessica walked in having just put her daughter down for a nap. Sam jumped up and exclaimed, "Jessica! It's me! Please tell me you remember.”

Jessica stopped at the doorway, not wanting to get any closed to the man than she had to. “Oh I remember you. You made me do terrible, revolting things to your manhood.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it. I saw the passion in your eyes.” Sam's approach to the conversation immediately took it in the worst possible direction.

Sam's response was typical of most chauvinist pigs she had dealt with. “I’ll concede that, of all the pricks I’ve had the misfortune of meeting, yours was the most magnificent. Or maybe it seemed that way because you were my first. So Mister Magnificent prick, what do you call yourself?”

"Tabitha thinks I look like Darrin so that is as good a name as any. I'm really glad that you remember me. Please tell Tabitha who I am.”

Jessica frowned at the man in front her. “Why would I do that Darrin? You’re a disgusting pig, just as the original version was. And I should know.”

“Oh, come on. You sure seemed to enjoy it at the time. I am in this form for good. I can show you a real good time if you will let me. I know things that will drive you wild.”

“I’m sorry buster, but that boat has sailed. I am a lipstick lesbian and loving it. I find guys and their junk nauseating.”

Tabitha returned with three mugs of steaming coffee. They all sat and drank as the stranger told his tale of witchcraft.

When he was through Tabitha showed him out and said, "Don’t ever come back here. I think you need professional help with that fairy tale. It is none of my business but with that story ABC might be interested in making it a television series."

Life on the Run in Skirts

CHAPTER 1 - A married man when dealing with his wife can be right or happy, not both

At the moment, Ellen was sprawled across her bed in a plain white ankle length flannel nightdress that was buttoned up to her neck. It was her standard weekday suburban housewife regalia. It wasn’t very racy. Her sexy negligees and lingerie were packed away, reserved for Saturdays.

To her husband, the flannel nightgown reminded him of something his grandmother used to wear. It was an opinion he prudently kept to himself.

Ellen was a mature woman with an above average figure, topped by an attractive face, adorned with long brown hair that framed her fine porcelain features.

Unlike in her youth, her comfort now took priority over her skimpy seductress outfits. Something in her psychological makeup had her equate Saturdays with sex. She wasn’t against a little horizontal entertainment at other times, it’s just there’s something special about a Saturday nooner that gets her juices running. Daytime sex was her preference, with Saturday night a poor second choice yet still acceptable.

In college, among other things she had been known for the provocative way she dressed: High heels, short skirts, tight tops and thongs were her trademark. She gave up comfort and practical for clothes that were calculated to stimulate. She kept the local Victoria Secrets outlet store’s profits in the black. The best Christmas present she ever got was when her parents gave her a Victoria's Secret credit card.

She was a player in the social scene and earned more than one varsity letter. During this party phase she never wanted for suitors. The lucky ones that got themselves into her bedroom found that it took more to get Ellen going, but once her engine was running, she was like a runaway freight train. None of those partners ever left unsatisfied nor had any complaints about her performance in the boudoir.

She sampled the entire Smorgasbord of sexual partners; white, black, brown, red, yellow, short, and tall men. There was even a woman sandwiched in there. No matter her occasional sexual deviation, she always found her way back to her penchant of musclebound bed partners. That had more between their legs than between their ears.

Her sexual attitude was imprinted in her DNA from her parents who had been charter members of the hippie-free love movement. The philosophy that they engrained in their only child was; being sexually active is the normal state for homo sapiens, while abstinence was an abomination and contrary to nature. Since they were agnostics, premarital sex had no moral repercussions. There were only two rules, both parties had to be consenting and it should feel good.

They didn’t exactly encourage her promiscuity but they weren’t upset by it either. Whenever Ellen reminisced about those good old days, she had only one regret.

Once she met down to earth George she exchanged her swingers’ card for a socially restrictive wedding ring. She half-heartedly settled into a more conventional lifestyle. Nowadays it was more common to find her in slacks and loafers. Her current eight-year marriage had settled into a routine comfortableness. One area Ellen refused to compromise in was her relationship in the marriage. No way in hell was she going to be a meek subservient wife.

Over the years, she had been called a lot of things, you can bet your sweet bippy, deferential was not one of them. When Ellen wanted something, she just did it. Thinking if her husband objected, he would have to speak up, which he smartly never did. She was in charge in the bedroom. They had sex only when she said so. She accepted that the lack of sexual excitement was the price to be paid as a regular married couple. She went along to get along, if nothing else her husband was a good provider.

George was not, by nature, a romantic type. He tried to make Saturday nights special to please his wife. It was their 'date' night. It held the possibility for romance. But alas, to Ellen it was not spontaneous and everything but romantic. It primarily meant she didn’t have to cook, a chore she hated. They would go to their favorite restaurant. Dependable George would order the same thing he always did, 'Shepard's Pie' and unsweet ice tea. Ellen made it a point to try anything new when it showed up on the menu and to have a different cocktail or two each time.

After they got home, George disappeared into their bedroom and changed into his pajamas while Ellen traded her cocktail dress for a sexy nightgown and peignoir. They would settle down in front of the TV cuddle and enjoy a glass of wine. After the late show, they moved to the bedroom for love making. Ellen picked the when, George decided the how. Therefore, it was always done with George on top in the missionary position. He always went for what he knew. Anything out of the ordinary terrified him. He was comfortable with the known while what she wanted was Circus Olay. Sex, like everything else he did, was task oriented.

Ellen got the impression that at times he just wanted to get it over with. As long as he had an orgasm, he felt his job was done, she very seldom came as a result of their love making. It wasn’t exactly the steamy adventurous sex she was accustomed to as a young girl. She was no longer hyperfeminine but was still a handsome woman with a perfect complexion, a smile that revealed pearl white teeth, round cheeks and the cutest dimples. It was her eyes that melted most men. They were clear deep brown pools.

She had never been the voluptuous dream girl of adolescent fantasies, yet she had a better than average body and still looked great in a bathing suit. Her bikini days seemed to be behind her. Once upon a time, she had been voted prom queen, she would love to have that body back. If only there was some way to turn the hands of time back. Sadly, she had let her appearance slip a tad bit recently, only making things worse. Her saving grace was her positive bubbling positive personality. Unquestionably, she was a glass half full personality. She lay in bed and thought back to how she had met her stodgy husband.

He was the very definition of a nerdy introvert. He was an accountant for heaven sake, as far away from her liberal arts major as you can get.

If she hadn't taken the initiative, they never would have gotten involved. She had ducked into the library on a Friday night on her way to a frat party to get out of the cold and grab a cup of coffee in the snack bar to warm up.

She passed a table with an androgynous looking lad lost in his studies. He was so unlike her normal dating material that her first inclination was to move on and ignore him. However, she felt a melancholiness about him that Ellen found fascinating. There was an air of something about this young man with the dark complexion that called to her like a sailor’s siren song. He was not muscular or ruggedly handsome like her current boyfriend. Rather he could be best described as being cute in a way that Ellen had never considered a man could be before. She sat uninvited at his table, unbuckled her overcoat. He felt rather than saw his private space was being invaded. Looked up he saw a woman that was way out of his league so he decided not to get his hopes up. She had a dazzling smile and dark brown eyes that brimmed with mischief and promise. She introduced herself. He merely smiled at her before going back to his text book.

She thought he was obviously a loner. As a well-known party girl, she had heard every pickup line out there. Being ignored was a first for her. Most men she met tended to be grateful she would condescend to acknowledge their presence. To be ignored was a challenge to her.

They sat in an uneasy silence for several minutes as she batted her eyes at him. He seemed oblivious to her advances. Ellen, as was her want, decided to take charge of the situation. Since he wouldn't do it, she reached over and pushed the book he was reading down to the table. He looked up in astonishment. She asked him if he would be so kind as to show her the way to the cafeteria, adding she would be happy to buy him a cup of coffee for his inconvenience. George never got back to his studies, they chatted until closing. Ellen found that George was a delight to be around. He was truly a social recluse, being the only person Ellen had ever met with no social media accounts. Despite this he was upbeat, charming, and he listened to her. Ellen found that George did not make the conversation all about himself, but more about her. George would talk with her, not at her. A real friendship blossomed as a result. Ellen was just coming off of a relationship with a man who was very dominating and self-centered. George, was just the opposite. Whenever they went anywhere or did anything, George always made sure that it was something that Ellen wanted to do. He was a perfect gentleman, again unlike her normal suitors. Which she found charming, because from her experiences she was convinced if chivalry wasn’t dead it was on its last legs.

Ellen’s friends were baffled at her choice of a boyfriend. She was unable to articulate why she was attracted to this nerd. It was a conundrum that mystified even Ellen.

That chance meeting led to a whirlwind romance. Over the course of several months, they became a serious item. It took some prodding but she eventually managed to bring him out of his shell socially. He kept insisting he wasn't good enough for her. He chased her until she caught him. In the end, she had to propose to him. They were married shortly after graduation, George getting an entry level job as an accountant at a local financial firm called Carlson Inc. They were able to buy a small two-bedroom, one bath house in the suburbs of San Diego.

Against her better judgement, Ellen became a stay at home wife. With only one income money was tight. The short-term plan was they would quickly start a family. Alas, after years of trying it never managed to happen. There was an emptiness in their marriage as a result. George turned his energies to his work. Ellen tried volunteering and she tried the wife’s club scene. Both were unrewarding for her. There was just something lacking in her life. He wasn’t the manliest guy around; Ellen knew that from the beginning. In the passion department, he left a lot to be desired which was hard for Ellen to come to terms with. George was a member of an endangered species, a virgin on his wedding night. However, it wasn't until their honeymoon that she found that he was truly a two-minute wonder. He had read the sex manuals and felt love could be best accomplished by the numbers, insert tab A into slot B and shake it all about.

It was a major change from her previous life style where sex was always an adventure. She accepted that, because she truly loved him. She was willing to put her needs aside because he was the kindest most genteel man she had ever met.

@ @ @ @

She could hear the water running in the shower that brought her out of her reverie. She was waiting patiently for him to finish his customary bathing ablutions. Like most other anal-retentive personalities, George was a slave to routine. Emptying his bladder first, then a shower wetting his hair, soaping it with dander shampoo, lathering the rest of his body working down from his face to his toes. Then and only then did he rinse off. After toweling off, he went to the sink and shaved.

He made a big production out of it, more as a sign of machismo than necessity. Being half native American he seldom needed to shave. Ellen had often thought she could accomplish the same thing with a pair of tweezers and do it in half the time. The same part of the gene pool that prevented whiskers also gifted him with his mother's full head of gorgeous dark hair. Not only did he have her hair, he also had some of his deceased mother's softer features instead of the traditional sharpness that his dead father's face displayed.

He was more a crewcut guy; Ellen had a bit of thing for men with long hair. She insisted that he let it grow out. Marriages are a series of compromises. She persuaded him to compromised and do it her way. She remembers her father often. He had really bought into the whole hippie lifestyle. Whenever she saw a man with long hair in a ponytail, she flashed back to him. He was the epitome of manhood, in her mind. She wanted George to be more like her father so she strongly encouraged him to let his hair grow. It now touched his ears. In her mind it was a start, but only a start.

Their current three-bedroom townhouse only had one bath so she had to wait her turn. The builders had gone for a den/family room in lieu of an extra bath. They were currently saving to add a half bath off the den.

Her long brown hair was a fright of frazzled tangled ends. Something that was going to take some time and effort to correct before she went off to her new office. She had let herself go recently, something she was regretting. With her starting her own business, she decided to try and recapture her lost looks. The objective was to be appear more like the sorority party animal Ellen Newman and less like the housewife Mrs. Ellen Trousdale.

The phone rang, she rolled over on her left side and picked up the receiver. It was George's asshole boss. She listened to the message and promised to pass it along to her husband.

She yelled out trying to hurry up Ducky, his pet name. A moniker hung on him by his older sister Beth; when he wore a yellow onesie with baby ducks on it as a child. Now much to his embarrassment that nickname had hung on and was used only by Beth and his wife.

Watching her seminude husband enter their bedroom, Ellen thought back to their wedding night. How Ducky had so struggled to carry her across the threshold. They were the same height; however, she would die before she told anyone; but he actually weighed less than her on that night.

The fond memories of their wedding night still produced a tingle between her legs. He was so cute. He had tried so hard to please her. It was obvious he put her pleasure ahead of his own. A truly endearing trait. From the very start, he had been self-conscious about the size of his manhood, a result she suspected from him watching too many porno films, where the women were always 38 DDs and the men all had fat 10-inch dongs. In reality, his was about average. She knew because while the president of her college sorority she had done considerable field research on the subject. In retrospect she realized her social life in college revolved around sex. As a child of the 70’s she felt free to experiment, as long as it was safe sex. Anything was open for investigation as long as it felt good.

He fumbled his way through their first time. She had to resist the temptation to just take charge at first and show him how it was done. Thus, revealing her expertise on the subject. To ensure her own gratification she took pity on him and little by little took the lead for the rest of the honeymoon. The first few years of married life had been exciting as Ellen assumed the role of bedroom sensei. Like in everything else in his life, experimenting was scary. He was more comfortable with the normal. Once he learned something, he was determined to do it to the best of his ability.

Recently, the enthusiasm and creativity had gone completely out of their love making. He was always tender and sweet, but Ellen longed for the day when it could be just raw sex. Oh well she had made her bed and would have to lay in it. It would take an extraordinary event before she could justify cheating on her husband, no matter how much her body needed a bout of wild no holds barred manly sex. Many a night she had laid in bed trying to figure out a way to fill that need without destroying her marriage. With George home every night, there was no way she could risk having a dalliance no matter how tempting it seemed. In the middle of the night, she subconsciously questioned if her faithfulness was more a lack of opportunity than moral conviction.

Today, he walked out with a towel around his waist ensuring he kept his back to her while he slipped on his tightie-whities. George was so conservative in every facet of his life that he made Rush Limbaugh look like a flaming liberal.

She critically examined his body. He had always been slim, almost diminutive, in size for a man, narrow shoulders and small boned. Now eight years of sitting at the same desk doing nothing more than corporate taxes had taken their toll. Middle age sprawl had hit him hard. The expression ‘too big for his britches’ was so apropos. He had a good start of a paunch and the slightest signs of love handles.

Ellen couldn’t be too critical, like her husband, she had also let herself go. She was up two dress sizes in the last year alone. That was going to change. She had tired of being nothing more than a childless housewife. Cooking and cleaning had long ago lost its appeal. She was going to put her degree in Interior Design to use. She had just gotten a loan and signed a lease so she could open her own consulting firm.

Being the typical man, he never listened to her suggestions that it was time for a new wardrobe. As a result, the floor of his closet was littered with rejected dress slacks, each too tight in the waist and butt.

As he stood there contemplating his choices, Ellen spoke up, “Honey, I have some bad and some good news. What do you want to hear first?"”

Exasperated, George looked over his shoulder, “Alright, give me the bad news.”

“While you were in your shower, your boss, Leon, called. I took the message. Tomorrow you need to take a bag with a change of clothes, enough for three days with you to work. Rather than coming home he is sending you on the night flight to Mexico City to do some work for a new client.”

“But I don’t speak any Spanish!”

Ellen laughed sarcastically, “That’s funny, here all this time I thought you were an accountant. I didn’t realize numbers were written different in Spanish than English.”

George gave Ellen what he hoped was an exasperated look, “I don’t understand! Mr. Brown usually takes this kind of trips himself or recently sends Josh. There have been a lot of these out of country trips recently. Leon seems to be expanding the company internationally.

"I still don’t want to go. It will mean we will be apart, that's four days. We have never been separated for that long since before our wedding."

"Grow up George business travel is the norm these days. It could turn out to be a blessing, with me just starting up my consulting firm, it will give me time to concentrate on it and get it off the ground. With you being gone I won't have to worry about neglecting you."

George sighed, "Alright, now give me the good news I could use some."

"I've lost 5 pounds. Isn't that fantastic!"

"Yeah just great." He said with less than real gusto.

@ @ @ @

That night George was restless. He was uncomfortable with new things. He much preferred known schedules. He dreaded traveling and just the thought of flying to a foreign country by himself terrorized him. It had taken him hours to decide what to pack and to find his passport.

On the way home from work, he stopped for a large flask of hand sanitizer and a bottle of Imodium AD just in case he got the runs.

Once home he was packing. As he closed and locked his bag, he noticed his gold wedding band. For the first time since Ellen slipped it on his finger, he took it off. He handed it to his wife.

She looked on puzzled. She knew he was not taking it off to be able to fool around so she had to ask, "What's going on Ducky?"

George grimaced as he said, "Today I did some research on the internet. Mexico City is a lawless, dangerous place. Crime is widespread because of the rampant poverty and the drug trafficking. I don't want to take a chance on losing this. So, hold it for me. Please! I will feel better."

Her eyebrows were raised in surprise as she replied, "Of course, I will but I think you are being a neurotic paranoid."

He shrugged. If he had to go into such a risky place, he wanted to make sure that he had done everything he could to take care of his wife.

"I prefer to think of it as being cautious. Also, today before I left work, I had a full power of attorney drawn up for you. It will be in our safety deposit box along with my will. Just in case something bad happens."

"Stop it, you are scaring me. Now come to bed. You will need your rest." Ellen was sure that her husband was being a bit of a drama queen, but she had to agree that bad things did happen to people who were not careful. She had to trust that George would be okay. Right now, the start of her business was on the top of her anxiety list.

That night they slept next to each other, after a quick goodnight kiss. Things might have been different if they had known this would be their last night sharing this bed as husband and wife.

Ellen drove George to work, dropping him off at the curb. He hauled his suitcase out of the trunk, Ellen waved goodbye and drove off with him standing on the curb with a sad puppy dog expression on his face. At lunch, George found a bookstore and bought a Spanish-English dictionary. He put in his normal 9-hour day and called a cab to take him to the airport, getting there two hours early.

CHAPTER 2 - Into the Lion’s Den

He wore a blazer with their company emblem embroidered on the breast pocket that his boss Mr. Brown insisted he wear while traveling as a company rep. He caught the Aero Mexico 10:15 flight to Mexico City, seated in a middle seat in economy at the rear of the plane. He was met at baggage claim by a Hispanic man holding up a handwritten sign with ‘Trousdale’ on it. He was driven to his hotel. Nothing fancy, it was clean and had WIFI. He checked in and was immediately taken by his driver to the corporate offices. The company he was working with was a U.S. firm that had been outsourced to Mexico. Their books were in shambles and George had to put in three very long days to get them into shape. He returned to his room at night and only had time to email Ellen. His cell phone didn't have service to the states. Ellen's daily replies were curt, simply outlining the progress she was making in getting her new company up and running.

Finally, it was time to go home. He emailed his flight information to his wife hoping she would meet him at the airport. He got an immediate response. Her reply merely said that she was busy with a late-night meeting and he should Uber his way home.

He insisted on getting to the airport several hours early. The airport in Mexico City was at a high altitude so there was a chill in the air. He was glad he was wearing the coat with the company logo. He wandered through the duty-free shops, just browsing. He picked up a couple of souvenirs for Ellen and his sister. His carry-on was full with his dirty clothes so he carried the trinkets in a shopping bag and found his gate and sat down to wait.

A man took a seat next to him and struck up a conversation with him. George was naturally an introvert, but he was glad for the company as it helped to pass the time. His flight was called, so he and his new friend standing right behind him joined the line for the final security check. He opened his carryon for inspection then handed his souvenir bag to the guard, who after a cursory inspection spoke briefly into a hand-held microphone. Suddenly, George found himself gripped by two policemen and dragged to a small locked room. He was questioned about a small religious ceramic statue of 'The Lady of Guadalupe' they found in his carryon bag, which as was explained to him was actually molded cocaine. He tried to tell them he had never seen it before. For Pete's sake he wasn't even Catholic, why would he buy a religious statue? They didn't believe him and he was cuffed and transported to a jail, where George Trousdale was booked and charged with attempted smuggling. His pleas to talk with someone from the American Embassy fell upon deaf ears.

@ @ @ @

That night Ellen didn't get home until nearly midnight. She was exhausted and was surprised to find the house empty. She just assumed her husband had flight issues, but there was no message on the answering machine. Knowing George, he probably got on the wrong flight and ended up in San Francisco instead of San Diego. She had an early appointment with a woman she was interviewing for the position as her assistant and that had priority in her mind. She went to bed thinking that he was a big boy and could take care of himself. She would worry about his whereabouts in the morning, after her meeting.

After a successful meeting followed by a delightful lunch with Nancy, Ellen thought about George. She called home first and got no answer. She then called his office extension and got an out of office recording. She shrugged it off and figured he probably left a message on the home phone. So many things could happen on international flights. She still wasn't concerned. She was sure everything would be alright.

It was another long day for Ellen and she didn't pull into her driveway until nearly seven that night. She hoped George was home and he had dinner waiting for her.

She was surprised to see a black Mercedes Bend parked at her curb. After pulling into the garage, she had just gotten inside when there was a knock on her front door. To her utter surprise, it was George's boss. In the past, when they had interacted, Leon made a point of doing some harmless flirtatious banter. The look on his face this time was way different.

Opening the door, Ellen said "Mr. Brown, what a surprise."

"May I come in? We need to talk."

"George isn't here. What do you want to talk about?"

"That fucked up husband of yours. He got arrested in Mexico for being a drug mule."

A flabbergasted Ellen screamed, "That can't be right!"

"Oh, it is, he is locked up in a Mexican jail as we speak."

"Oh, my lord, is he alright?"

"Who the fuck cares! He has ruined my company's reputation and could bring the law down on me. I don’t need that kind of scrutiny. He’s incompetent and couldn’t do the simplest thing without getting caught. I hope he rots in hell!"

Ellen did something that shocked both her and Leon she slapped him across the face with all her might, leaving a large red mark.

Give Leon credit: He recovered quickly and said, "I guess that means you won't be accepting my invitation to dinner. I have reservations at a romantic French restaurant."

"Damn it Leon! What's going to happen to my husband?"

"I heard from the embassy; they have arranged a public defender for him."

"Can I talk to him?"

"From what I hear he is being held incommunicado until his trial. Only his lawyer can talk to him. Our relationship with Mexico has been a little rocky recently and the embassy says they think the government is going to make an example of him. When you do talk to him, tell him he's fired."

@ @ @ @

Ellen tried daily to get some kind of information about George, but she heard nothing for almost two months, until she got a call from Estelle Johnson, an official in the state department.

Her message shook Ellen to the core. He had already had his trial; George's public defender had pleaded him guilty and he got 10 years in prison. She went on to explain that this was actually a good thing, if he had fought the charges and lost, George could have gotten 25 years.

After she got over the shock, Ellen asked "What happens now?" Estelle said, "The good news is that your husband is in a minimum-security prison. He can have visitors every Saturday. If he keeps out of trouble, after six months he can have conjugal visits."

She then gave Ellen the location and directions to the prison and told her it was located about two hours' train ride south from Tijuana. Due to the location, Ellen was strongly advised to take the train down and return the same day. Spending nights in that area was not advisable. Even the drug dealers slept elsewhere.

Estelle went on to explain to Ellen that, since George had pled guilty to attempted drug smuggling, the State Department was washing their hands of his case, he was persona non-grata as far as the U.S. government was concerned. She was sorry, but Ellen was now on her own.

Ellen was at first angry at her husband for getting involved in this thing. It took Ellen several weeks to decide there had to be a logical explanation and work up the nerve to make the trip to find out for herself. Many of her friends had abandoned her once word got out that George was a drug smuggler. Just a few close friends stuck by her.

She missed going out and having fun. On the one hand, she loved being independent and in charge of her own life. Yet she missed having George around. She was going to have to do something about it. Starting with visiting her husband.

She had two years of high school Spanish, 14 long years ago, she only remembered a few words. Feeling like the intrepid Henry Morton Stanley, she, went off in search of her Livingston.

She took the San Diego trolley to the border, crossed on foot and took a taxi to the train station. She found an open seat to herself and sat with a death grip on her purse. Anticipating to be robbed at any moment. Surprisingly, the train was clean and the trip was uneventful. She got off at her stop and took a cab to just outside the prison gates about 10:30 AM. That first morning arriving at the prison was a rude awakening. The gates opened at noon and a large crowd of woman had gathered at the gate by 11. She stood at the rear of the throng. She had been told all the woman were required to be out by 2 PM unless they had a numbered conjugal pass which permitted them to stay until 5 PM.

When the gates opened, it was like the start of the Indy 500, half of the woman rushed off to a guard house where they were logged in and they identified the prisoner they were to see. They were randomly searched by female guards and then ushered into a central courtyard where their men were waiting for them. The other half rushed an elevated guard station. After a brief frisk, each woman was given a wooden tag with a number on it. Those lucky few headed for the cellblocks.

Entering the dusty courtyard, Ellen took up a position off to the side where she could survey the mass of humanity spread out before her. She didn't recognize her husband at first, he was standing off to the side under the shade of a guard tower. Ellen hurried over to him, shocked by his appearance. He had lost a lot of weight, obviously hadn't had a haircut, and wore dirty prison clothes that hung on his emaciated body. He looked rather frail.

Ellen was afraid to embrace him; she might hurt him. She gave him a peck on the lips and said, "George, aren't you eating? You don't look healthy."

George shrugged lethargically, he had little energy these days.

"I eat what they give me. We get nothing but refried beans and tortillas, if we are lucky, they throw in a little chicken at evening meals."

A scandalized Ellen said, "Maybe I can bring you something next time."

It had been months since he had even heard from Ellen. He knew that it was very challenging to get communications in prison. Even when the State Department had been trying to help him, it had been difficult. But the lack of communication from her, except early on for an occasional message relayed to him through his lawyer, made him feel like she had abandoned him.

He smiled, thinking fondly of the fast food that was available on every street corner on the other side of the border.

"I would love a cheeseburger. But visitors are not allowed to bring food into this place."

Ellen thought about alternatives, "If nothing else I will smuggle in some vitamins to keep you healthy."

He smiled at her again. "That would be nice. So, you are coming back?" His voice was hopeful.

"Of course! You silly goose. You are my Ducky and I will be here every chance I get. I'm sorry that I couldn't be here for you sooner. The State Department advised me to let them handle everything, which was a major mistake. Promise me to take care of yourself."

They wandered off to a nearby bench and sat facing each other and just talked. George needed little prompting to relate the events that led up to his incarceration. He described the guy in the airport who he was sure had set him up. They both agreed that it was unlikely they would ever see him again. Ellen promised she would look into getting a local lawyer to see if there was anything that could be done about his case. At 2 o’clock a bell sounded. All the women headed for the gate. She hated to leave him but had no choice. Her trip home was depressing. Once there, she called Beth and filled her in on all the details.

@ @ @ @

Ellen returned the next weekend feeling more self-assured now that she had the routine down. She made a point of bringing a bottle of vitamins in her purse. Her search uncovered them; they were immediately confiscated. Her name was taken down and she was warned not to try it again.

She learned her lesson, from then on out, she made a point of bringing women's Ultra Mega Multivitamins only, which were explained away by claiming that they were her medicine. That and a friendly smile at the guard ensured safe passage.

It was a long six months of weekly visits limited to the prison yard. Fortunately, she had her thriving business to take her mind off things, that a new-found fervor for working out at the local gym. Finally, the day arrived where they could be alone in his cell. She took the Friday before off and spent it at a spa. She wanted this to be special. She was more excited than on her wedding day. Since she had lost her virginity on prom night. Sex had been the one constant in her life. This was the longest period she had gone without sex with her husband, since their wedding.

@ @ @ @

After checking in, she was told his cell number. It took a little while; but eventually she found his cell. She paused outside, trying to get her nerves under control and took several deep breaths. On the other side of the door she heard movement. She knocked and was rewarded with a familiar voice, "Come in."

She stepped through the door and closed it behind her. Then waited until her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light. Ellen wasn't prepared for what she found. Rather than a stark cell with bars on the windows and a straw mattress. She found a neat little cubicle. It had a worn wooden floor and bars on the window; but inexplicitly it had a cot with a mattress, a toilet, wash basin and a metal mirror, that was so high it must have been installed by a giant. She looked at her husband for an explanation.

"What do you think Ellen? I have been a model prisoner and volunteered to do the prison books. To tell the truth I am kind of the warden’s prize prisoner."

Ellen thought wryly, 'I bet he was always the teacher's pet growing up.'

"Because of my work for the warden, I have earned upgraded living conditions. I moved in about ten days ago."

"I have been cleaning for days. I hope it is alright and doesn’t disgust you."

In response, she ripped off her clothes as fast as she could. George was in awe at what he saw. Her deep colored areolas and their taught nipples seized his attention. Ellen had always been a beautiful woman in his eyes and way out of his league. But the creature that stood before him now looked more like a statue of Aphrodite. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her. All he could do was stare as she literally took his breath away. He finally got out the words out, "Oh my gawd Ellen I have never seen you looking better."

Ellen smiled at the compliment and felt all gooey inside then posed briefly for him before replying, "I take it you like what you see. It has been a lot of hard work to sculpt my body. I have a private trainer that has been taking me through all manner of exercises."

She watched as George’s manhood began to come to life and tented out the front of his prison chinos. Pointing to his crotch she asked, "Before we get started let me ask you. How have you been handling your sexual urges?"

Flustered George answered, "I masturbate at night before going to bed thinking about you."

Her lips curled as she grinned mischievously. Ellen took two steps in his direction and glibly said, "I've got something a bit different in mind for you this afternoon, love.

"Enough with the chit chat. Now it's your turn. I showed you mine now I want to see yours. Strip and let me see my husband."

George was embarrassed by his appearance. He shrugged off his clothes and reflexively a forearm and a hand were strategically placed to provide him with a minimum of modesty. He waited for Ellen’s rejection.

Ellen fought to keep the shock out of her face. He had lost so much weight that Ellen was sure she could count his ribs. What stood before her was a vulnerable, self-doubting man. She was going to show him he was still a he-man to her.

She rushed to him, tackling him and knocking him to the bed, intending to make mad passionate love to him.

After the briefest of foreplay George was ready to go. There was not going to be any missionary position this time. It was going to be the way she wanted it. Ellen straddled him and impaled herself on him. She rode him delighting in the pleasure of making love to the man she loved. She could feel that George was about to burst, so she tightened around his shaft as forcefully as she could, so when, at last, he came with a fury, she was able to squeeze and feel the full impact of his orgasm. She didn't have an orgasm herself, but felt a sense of power and release she'd never felt before with this man.

Understandably after months of celibacy, poor George hadn’t lasted very long, he was disappointed. His penis quickly deflated and slipped out of her. Once he had recovered sufficiently to catch his breath, he immediately started to apologize. Ellen wasn't having any of it and held him tight. He eventually wrestled free and did something he had never done before. He slithered off the cot and got on his knees at the foot of the bed, and started to lick his way up her legs and thighs. He was tentative at first, kissing his way closer and closer to her opening while Ellen shivered with anticipation. When, at last, his tongue eventually slipped through the folds of her vaginal lips, Ellen's moans were encouraging. He became more aggressive, sliding his tongue in deeper and deeper, till she gripped his head with both of her hands, and kept his mouth at her honey pot. He had never performed oral sex on his wife before. He was determined to make up for lost time. He worked his magic on her and listened for verbal clues to determine what he was doing right. Ultimately, Ellen had an orgasm.

Suddenly, she didn't care if George's atrophied babymaker didn't do anything for her. This new technique produced a grander orgasm than 90% of her previous sexual encounters. She thought to herself ‘she could become accustomed to this.’

When he came up for air she had to ask, "Where did you learn to do that? I have had guys perform oral sex on me, but never with that kind of enthusiasm."

"I've had six months to think of nothing else. I wanted to find a way to repay you for sticking with me. I hope I did alright. Since it was my first time, I'm open to constructive criticism. Just tell me what you want I’ll be better next time, I promise."

She hugged him tightly and said, "Honey, that was fantastic. If it gets any better, I’ll never be able to walk again. Right now, my legs are like rubber. Let me ask do you enjoy doing that or are you just doing it for me?"

George looked down somewhat shyly and replied, "Ellen, this isn't a very manly thing to say, I truly loved it. Giving you pleasure gives me pleasure."

Ellen said with a fond smile, "How about next time I reciprocate while you do me. There isn't much room on this cot but we can make it work."

George remained firm. He answered with a shake of his head, "That is sweet of you to offer, but I think not."

Ellen was flabbergasted, no man had ever turned down her offer of oral sex. She had always thought 69 was every man’s fantasy, right up there with a threesome.

He held up his hand to forestall any argument. "Let me explain, I now view your pleasure as more important than mine. If we did 69, it might distract me from giving you my best effort."

Ellen's smile could not get any larger. "George, you are truly one of a kind. I love you so very much. Now get into bed so we can cuddle."

@ @ @ @

Before leaving, Ellen gave George one mandate. If he wanted her to return for more conjugal visits, he had to exercise. Explaining it would improve his stamina and general heath. George quickly agreed with her. He promised to do what he could.

He was the only American in the prison. He wasn't put into solitary confinement, but the authorities strongly recommended that he limit his exposure with the general population. He voluntarily stayed in his cell except for meals when there were extra guards on duty. He avoided the communal showers electing to bath from his sink. His cell wasn't very large so he was restricted to a workout consisting mostly of pacing the cell in addition to squats and lunges, he had never had much upper body strength after one failed attempt where he couldn’t get his chest off the floor, he skipped doing pushups. Other than taking care of the books a few times a month, he had nothing else to do during the day so he would work out until he was exhausted. Over time doing the exercises he could tell his stamina was improving.

Within weeks, Ellen saw the results of his exercises, which were spectacular. He continued to lose body fat and muscle tone in everywhere but his legs and buttocks. After a couple of months, his general manly physique appeared to be morphing into a softer more feminine form. Thankfully she rationalized that anyone studying his arms would know there was enough definition for them to belong to a male. On close inspection, there were other clues like his Adams apple that could gave him away but without too much scrutiny most people would think they were looking at an emaciated woman when they saw him. He was now so light Ellen could easily lift him in her arms. His thighs were more defined and slimmer than Ellen’s, surprisingly, his chest appeared to retain its original dimensions. He hadn’t mentioned it; but she assumed he must be doing push-ups, to build up his pectoral muscles. His butt became cute, high, tight, and firm. His booty made Ellen jealous.

Each visit was similar after their initial bout of coitus, he put the time to good use while he was recuperating. He would pleasure Ellen with his mouth and fingers. He made it a point to stay there long enough where he could get it up again. It wasn’t always that firm the second time but it was good enough to get the job done. During his second go around, he would mount Ellen and could last long enough to bring both to satisfaction. To Ellen’s surprise after conventional sex, Ducky insisted he be allowed to worship at Ellen’s womanly altar and bring her to several more orgasms. That was a first for her. None of her previous lovers had done anything like that. It made her love him even more.

Ironically, their sex life was once again a weekly Saturday event. Yet, it was more gratifying then anything she ever experienced in her married life.

@ @ @ @

During their weekly visits, they both avoided discussions about the future. They were just living in the moment.

During the weeks and months, Ellen's business had really taken off and the money was rolling in. Nancy was doing a fantastic job and took charge when Ellen was away. Nancy had become more than an employee, she was now a friend, almost a sister.

Ellen had exhausted every legal avenue to get her husband home. Out of desperation, during her time at home Ellen spent a lot of time on internet searches looking for someone who could break her husband out of jail. She even went so far as to interview a number of 'soldiers of fortune' but determined they were all blowhards. If anyone was going to get George out, she would have to do it herself. She spent every spare moment working on a plan.

After a great deal of thought and observation she ascertained the jail's weakness was the mujer's mad dash at 5 PM. The guards appeared to be overwhelmed as dozens of women rushed to get out of the main gate all at the same time. As long as the total numbers agreed, and everyone was accounted for, no one seemed to care. A plan was beginning to come to Ellen. The hard part would be to get George to agree. If they were caught, the consequences would be disastrous for them both. Ellen knew one thing about herself. If she put her mind to something, nothing could stop her from making it happen. George was in for a wild ride. It was going to be exhilarating, breaking him out of jail. She talked to her personal trainer an ex-Navy Seal for suggestions. After their work outs the two spent many an hour in hushed discussions.

Ellen planted the seed on her next visit when she effortlessly picked George up in her arms and carried him across the cell to the bed. She laid him down and began to remove his shirt, pants and sandals. George began to protest and sit up, but his wife simply pressed on his chest to lay him back down and carefully touched his lips with her finger. "Shhhh. Just let me, OK?" Ellen resumed her activities and George lay back and closed his eyes, and enjoyed the feeling of being taken advantage of.

George was a bit awestruck and emasculated by how easily Ellen had been able to pick him up like a ragdoll. All he could ask was, "How can you do that?"

Ellen shrugged and smiled. She was rather proud of her new buff physique. She had worked hard at increasing her core strength.

"Oh, that's nothing. With you not being around, I wanted to get my old body back. I have most evenings free so I have become a gym rat, I go almost every day." Ellen got this starry-eyed look on her face and said, "There is this hunky guy Derrick, an ex-Navy Seal, who volunteered to be my personal trainer. After putting me through a daily strenuous aerobic workout, he has me doing some serious weight training."

George wasn’t happy about his wife spending time with a musclebound ex-Seal, but he had to trust his wife. After all what choice did he have? So, he swallowed his jealousy and devoted himself to pleasing his wife.

During their weekly trysts, they had some of the best sex of their married lives. It was routinely common for both to come with a heat and passion that neither had experienced before in their married life. For George, absence did more than make the heart grow fonder.

Finally, Ellen decided it was time to bring up the idea of breaking George out of jail. As they both sat on the cot, she held his hands and cautiously broached the subject. "Honey, these weekly interludes are nice. But they aren’t enough for me. We need to find a way to get you out of here."

The issues of crossdressing or basically anything that could be thought of as kinky or out of the mainstream was definitely taboo in their house. Since the concept was so alien to her husband, she knew she might have a fight on her hands. She proceeded cautiously to lay out the basics of her plan. What she had to say shook George to his very core.

Ellen’s plan called for George to dress as a woman and simply walk out the front gate with the other ladies. Then, together, they would go to the train station and ride it to the border.

Before he could object, she pointed out that the way his body was withering away, that there was no chance he would survive to serve out his sentence. George was aghast at the idea, he sighed and looked heavenward. "Ellen, let’s get real. There is no way, anyone would mistake me for a woman!"

"That is where I can help. Wait till I finish before you pass judgment on yourself. Postpone your decision until you see the finished product. There is no way I will let you be a mockery. You will be 100% believable or we will call it off. If, at the last minute, you have any doubts all bets will be off. Is that fair?"

Ellen explained her plan in detail. He had to grudgingly admit it had the possibility of success if Ellen could come through with her promise to make him presentable as a woman.

George looked for weak points, but Ellen had an answer for every objection. Like how would he get across the border. Ellen explained how she would borrow his twin sister's passport to get him through immigration. "We won't bring any luggage; we have enough clothes at home. As two women, we'll only carry our purses and tell the guards we had been on a one-day shopping spree. We should breeze through customs. Once in the States, we will simply drive home and resume our lives. I can’t believe our local cops would be concerned about you."

The eloquence of her argument rang true, despite the gut wrenching fear it entailed. George knew when he was losing the battle, so he just acquiesced knowing the outcome was inevitable.

"Alright you win. I'll put on a stupid dress and join the evening exodus and we can go home. Easy peasy."

@ @ @ @

Ellen bolted upright, "Not so fast buster," Ellen said, holding up a hand. "There is a lot more to it than that. Now I don't care how much you look like a woman. If you don't walk, sit, move or speak like a woman people might be able to see right through your disguise. At the very least they will think that something is wrong."

"You have to walk the length of the prison yard in a feminine gait, your appearance has to be convincing enough to fool the guard into thinking you are a woman. Then you will have to find me, and together we will go to the train station. Where a convincing woman and I will have a two-hour train ride. Then you will have to get past an alert U.S. immigration agent. All the while conducting yourself as an authentic female. That is going to take a lot of hard work."

"I can get you into the disguise but that is only a façade. We have to assume that the police officers watching for escapees are not dumb or blind. Their perceptions of you will be professional and will determine our ultimate success. Your movements, mannerisms, body language, and physical appearance, must be perfect and will decide if this plan works or not."

"The first thing we have to do is to find you a new feminine name. How about I pick one for you?"

George shrugged his shoulders in indifference and replied, "Whatever."

"Super, from now on I am only going to call you Heather. That way it will be second nature and you will learn to respond to it. The last thing we want is someone to call out George and have you responded. Don’t you agree, Heather?"

"I see your logic, but why Heather?"

"Two reasons, it's a common girl's name, and is nothing like your masculine name. So, anyone trying to track you down using your name won't be given any help. More importantly, I think it is pretty. Is that enough reason for you?"

What Ellen wasn’t going to reveal was Heather was the name of an old roommate. Her only girl on girl sex was with her. She felt that using Heather’s name was a bit of a tribute to her friend.

"Yes dear, whatever you say," George replied meekly.

@ @ @ @

"Ducky, it won’t matter how attractive you look. If you move like a man, you'll give yourself away. Let's start with your walk. That will be the most important characteristic to help get you out the front gate."

Ellen knew her husband was not a transvestite and that teaching her husband to move like a woman would be a challenge as he would probably fight her at every turn, but she was willing to work as hard as necessary to save him. After all, the clock was ticking.

She took off her sandals with their wedge heels and her dress and had Heather put them on. She helped him into her dress and marveled at how well it fit him. She felt defeminized realizing her husband and her wore the same shoe and dress size. Ellen sighed and reassured herself with the thought ‘At least he can’t fit into my bra.’ Then she tried to explain to him the differences between how a man and a woman walk. It immediately became apparent that teaching something that needed to be instinctive to a novice was a real challenge. She watched him struggle with her shoes, she was concerned that Heather was not comfortable in those low heels. Why they are only the training model for novices how will he handle grown up shoes?

She wanted to encourage him so she lied, "For your first time in heels that is very good." He found myself unexpectedly pleased with this little compliment.

She tried. "Heather, from this point on, after our booty call, the rest of every visit will have to be spent on deportment training. From the way, you are physically deteriorating I have only a short time to teach you what every woman learns at her mother's knee growing up."

"Now you are dressed like one, Heather, walk like a woman for me."

George tried to visualize how a woman would walk. He searched his memory for how a woman walked that was different from his normal gate. The only distinctive walk he managed to recall was how the stripper strutted on the stage one time he was in a gentleman’s club. He sashayed across the small cell, flouncing as best as he could. His efforts reminded him of the first time he tried riding a bike without training wheels and was just as successful except this time he didn’t skin his knee. Ellen sat on the bed Indian style with her ankles crossed and watched. She tried her hardest not to laugh but failed miserably.

Confused, George looked at her, "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing, if you want to come across as a gay vaquero who had just been fucked in the ass by his male lover," she replied with one of her infectious giggles. "George honey, I could slather on enough makeup on you to where you wouldn’t be recognizable. Then decorate you with enough cheap garish jewelry to embarrasses a campy female impersonator. That is not what we are going for. You want to blend in as one of the local women. A wife or girlfriend, not stand out as a flaming Mexican drag queen. This is going to be harder than I thought. A dress and wig will be a good start. I am not sure what can be done about your face. It is a little square and your nose a smidgen too large for a woman. I will see what I can do with makeup." She sighed heavily, "We have a lot of work to get you ready. I pray you are willing to make the commitment needed to get you out of here."

She surreptitiously crossed her fingers and finished her thought. "We will get there. I promise."

Ellen thought for a few minutes trying to decide how to proceed. Resorting to teacher mode she opined, "Heather, women have wider hips. So, their hips tend to sway. Try placing one foot in front of the other as this will tend to exaggerate the movement of your hips. Walking for men is utilitarian. Their purpose is to get from place to place. Women tend to move more gracefully, swinging their hips and taking shorter graceful steps. Try to imagine you are gliding and not walking. Their legs rarely go very far apart, even when walking swiftly. Now try again with that in mind."

George took in everything Ellen told him. On his next try, he eliminated the exaggerated campy walk and tried to just concentrate on his stride and hip movements and made some progress.

This time in earnest. She clapped in encouragement and had him make several more laps around his cell.

Finally, she stopped him and with pride said, "That’s a lot better, but listen to me. Walk with your chin up, shoulders back, chest out, abs tight, pelvis forward, and buttocks tight. It will make a world of difference."

Ellen wearing just her underwear because he had her clothes on, stood next to him and demonstrated how she wanted him to walk. Together they crossed his cell several times.

George tried to take it all in wishing he could be taking notes.

After an hour of non-stop practice, he was starting to get it. He was rewarded by Ellen pulling him onto the bed and they made love one more time. Ellen mounted him and road him like a stallion. It was an exhilarating ride. The timing was perfect as they managed to cross the finish line in a dead heat. She started to get off him, "Did you like that?" she asked, leaning over to kiss his sweaty mouth.

"What do you think?" He smiled.

Ellen had a huge grin on her face. "I know that was different, I thought you'd like it with me being on top and more dominant. I had fun, it’s something we should add to our bedroom repertoire. Don’t you agree?"

His response was in the form of slithering down to where he could gain access to her love canal with his mouth. She didn’t resist when she realized what he had in mind. She sat on his face and got lost in the nirvana of his love. Fifteen minutes and two more climaxes later she was too sensitive down there. She rolled off and announced, "That was great now we have to get back to work. We only have a few more minutes, let’s put it to good use."

After the love session, the tutorial continued for the remainder of their allotted time. "Now when you stride, place each foot directly in front of the other leg, the way a cat does. The majority of weight shifts should occur near your center of gravity, which is between your thighs and belly button. Aim for your footprints to form a single line as if you are walking on tightrope. This motion dictates the extent to which your hips and arms swing. Keep your head and shoulders relatively still as your body moves and try to appear as though you are walking into the wind to push your shoulders back and force your pelvis to lead you forward."

"I never realized there was so much involved in just walking," said a dejected George.

Ellen again took him in her arms and held him whispering encouragements into his ear.

George took in everything like a sponge and after another 30 minutes of non-stop practice was starting to get it. He was rewarded by Ellen pulling him onto the bed and hugging him so tight George had trouble breathing.

The time arrived for Ellen to be going. She went to her purse and handed Ducky his next bottle of vitamins, after taking one, he hid the rest in his mattress. At the door, she left him with more advice, "I’ve had some time to think about it. I once took a modeling class. I can visualize how I was taught to walk. Women tend to take shorter strides then men, with less shoulder movement and keep their legs closer together. This results in less side to side movement and more up and down bobbing. At first, you may feel that you are leaning back a little and you should be able to feel pressure and length in the small of your back."

George frowned, "What are you trying to tell me?"

"Nothing comes easy. We succeed only through hard work and repetition. I have given you the basics, now you need to convert that knowledge into muscle memory, so you don't have to think about it. Next week I expect to see a very different walk from you. Perhaps I'll bring some high heels as a teaching aid."

The thought of wearing high heels frightened George. The last thing he needed was to explain to the prison authorities how he broke an ankle. He spoke up and said with some trepidation, "Ellen, I don't think that is necessary. I’ll work on what you've told me."

"We'll see lover, who knows what the future has in store for us."

@ @ @ @

Over the next week, waiting for Ellen’s return was hell. Every night he had nightmares about being caught in a feminine disguise and being gang raped by the population of inmates while the guards looked on with total indifference. Aside from his daily exercises, George spent every waking moment trying to replicate the walk his wife wanted of him.

Ellen was always a joker, so just for fun and trying to loosen up George that Saturday she came prepared, she handed him a pair of pink high cut leg panties made of slinky nylon and with a wide lace waistband and small rows of lace around the leg openings. "Here! See how this fits lover boy," she teased.

Ellen handed him the panties. "Err....Ellen. You can’t be serious!" Then he asked. "Don't you have any that aren’t so....so....so sexy looking? I mean for Pete’s sake, pink lace!"

"Golly George. I'm sorry that the style doesn't suit you," she mocked. "I didn't realize you were so picky about the panties you wore."

He hesitated for a second but as she gave him the ‘Look’ and he quickly pulled the little panties up his legs and into place!

Needless to say, the panties did little to reduce the womanly look of his legs, but any sexual arousals that he might have experienced were more than compensated for by the pure terror that coursed through him as his wife watched him put on the most feminine item of clothing he had seen in months. Rather than get hard, his penis seemed to withdraw into his body.

There was no way out other than this. He knew it. If he was discovered, there was no question he was dead meat. He took a deep breath and had to trust Ellen and endure. For a man, who had always struggled to establish his masculinity, this was the ultimate humiliation.

"These or something like them are what you will wear whenever I am here."

"Why?"

"They will make you feel more feminine."

George protested to Ellen, saying that the changes she was making to his appearance were too drastic.

She explained that this was exactly what she wanted; it was crucial that no one in the prison during the breakout perceive him as a male, so he had to not only look the part but must act as feminine as possible.

She sat him down and lectured him. "Heather, femininity is all about subtlety. To pull this off without us getting caught, you must completely immerse yourself in the feminine mindset! If you can teach yourself to believe you are actually a woman; appropriate ladylike reactions, gestures and posture will become second nature. That way, if some crisis arises your reactions will be instinctive rather than unnaturally thought out. Like what would you do if someone grabbed your purse on the way out. George’s instinct would be to fight. Heather’s should be to cry out for help. Can you see what I am getting at?"

The implications to what she was saying threatened his very manhood. But the logic of it all made sense and he promised he would try.

@ @ @ @
Ellen went home and tried to develop lesson plans to turn her husband's mannerisms into those of a believable woman. Aside from his walk, how he carried himself would be the surest way to carry off this caper.

Surprisingly, she found the best advice on such matters on transvestite sites and blogs. She went back the next week armed with this new insight.

She knocked on the door and pushed it open and stepped inside.

Once the cell door was closed, Ellen paused at the door and then did a sexy striptease for her husband.

George was speechless at what he saw. Ellen noticed his appreciation and quipped, "Like what you see honey, is there any question I am all woman? Maybe exotic dancing should be incorporated into your training."

She then demanded he strip for her. She leaned against the wall and watched while she hummed a little Gypsy Rose Lee ditty to encourage his performance. When he had disrobed, Ellen was again taken back by his lack of body mass. She even suspected his standard size male package was a little smaller, but no matter that was no longer his best sexual attribute. She had come to realize that good sex is less about genitalia and more about the way you feel when you're together.

Their love making that day was a repeat of the previous weeks. Intercourse was nice but to her it was just the overture for the main event. As far as Ellen was concerned George's oral performances kept getting better. Surprisingly over the past several weeks when she was home and masturbating it was now cunnilingus that filled her fantasies and not a big fat cock as had been her want.

Once she had recovered from her post orgasmic bliss, they got back to work teaching George to present as a believable woman.

Ellen assumed her school teacher persona, "Let's see what you have mastered. Walk for me. In your head pretend you are a woman on the prowl for a mate. Think of yourself as a tease. Make it as sexy as you can, remember you want any guy watching to be aroused by your grace."

"Now wait a minute Ellen, I have no intention of ever attracting a man!"

Ellen gave a little lopsided grin then went on, "I understand George is a straight as an arrow and has no sexual interest in men. I am not talking to George. This message is for Heather. If you think as a woman it will translate into your overall performance. There is so much I want her to experience."

"Ellen, you are scaring me."

Ellen responded with a teasing smile. "Enough of that let's get back to work, Heather strut your stuff for me."

He did as he was asked and Ellen continued to critique him.

George listened like his life depended on it. He spent an hour parading around his cell under the watchful eye of Ellen. After a short rest break, they were back at it.

Every week, Ellen would introduce shoes with a little higher heel. It was so gradual that poor George never realized it. She stopped when he became comfortable in three-inch heels. Ellen noticed the added height improved his walk. There and then she decided he would walk out the gate wearing high heels.

She felt smug about her little deception but had to get back to work as she harangued, "There are a hundred different ways a female acts and re-acts differently than a male. The way she carries herself; the way she stands; the way she talks and gestures. Everything about a woman is 'different' from a man."

George responded, "Well Da!"

She explained that he couldn't carry off such a masquerade without more practice. Most of every visit was spent with George in Ellen's dress and shoes pacing back and forth in his small cell. She worked heavily on his feminine mannerisms such things as his hand’s placement and movement. His walks were now accompanied by him carrying a purse.

A flood of do's and don'ts poured from her mouth. George was getting discouraged. "My lord Ellen, that is a lot to get my head around!"

Ellen, gave him one of her world class smiles, "I know that is why we are working on this almost nonstop. When you are here by yourself, I expect you to do homework. So, every week we can move on to something new."

"Of course, dear, I understand the importance of all this."

@ @ @ @

It had only been a few extra weeks; Ellen was now confident his walk would pass all but the closest scrutiny.

After another work session, Ellen took a break and was stretched out on the cot with nothing on, having Heather wearing even her underwear. She watched her hubby and thought, 'With his longer hair, all it will take is a little padding in the right places and some makeup, he will be believable, we are almost there!'

She didn't know what it was about Heather. Perhaps it was the week-long forced celibacy or the eating of the forbidden fruit of lesbianism. But the fact that her hubby was prancing around dressed like a woman generated a lust in her that she hadn't felt in years. That was an issue she would have to take up with a shrink later. All she knew now was that oral sex relieved George of the pressure of having to perform as a man and provided her with multiple orgasms, something conventional sex with him never did.

Heather was worshiping her body one more time, he was currently feasting the nectar between her legs. She maneuvered around and took him into her mouth where she remained for a long time. This was her preferred method of lovemaking, both parties getting pleasure. After another glorious sexual encounter, Ellen announced they were moving on.

George groaned. Ellen smiled encouragingly and said, "Relax sweetheart, this will be a piece of cake, I am going to teach you how to sit."

"Great! I've been sitting since I was a toddler."

"WRONG!" screeched Ellen. "George has been sitting for years, not Heather. We have to break you of all those nasty boy mannerisms. Heather is going to learn to sit gracefully like a lady, not plop down like a drunk-on a bar stool."

George with Ellen’s juices still on his lips smiled and responded, "That's fine with me as long as she is a lady with lesbian tendencies."

Ellen tittered at the little repartee and came back with, "That issue was never in doubt. I don’t think I can survive without Heather, my lezzie paramour."

Ellen thought, ‘Heather is a welcome respite from those manly types with their monster merrymakers I have been involved with my entire life. They are only interested in their pleasure. Compared to Heather that puts my needs first.’

Ellen spread her legs and said, "Now come over here and remind me why I keep my lesbian lover around."

After a not so brief interlude, school was back in session.

She stood and started, "Sitting 101 darling. We shall begin with the basics. I will demonstrate."

"Heather, a lady starts by standing as close to the chair as she can with her calves touching the chair. She keeps her knees together, and eases down gently. Never flopping. She does not bend forward as she keeps her torso straight. George, you need to learn that sitting and crouching are both art-forms that have to be learned and constantly practiced.”

Ellen demonstrated and sat on the bed. She patted the space next to her on the cot inviting him to sit there. “Got that Heather? By keeping your knees together and sitting down smoothly by bending your knees. You can smooth your skirt under you as you reach the chair. Sit up straight. Do not lean back into your chair. Now give that a go."

George tried and almost succeeded. Ellen commented, "Alright not too bad at all. Try it again. Only this time, try to not to use your hands for balance. Keep your arms either straight down or slightly bent at the elbow."

Ellen demonstrated, "Once seated, maintain a firm posture, cross your feet at the ankles. Place your hands in your lap, palms down. Rest them just above your thigh. When crossing your ankles, be sure to do so with your knees still together. There should be no space between your ankles. We will work up to the more provocative crossing your legs one over the other at the knee. Let's keep it simple for now."

She kept up a running commentary about the way he sat. His posture, and the position of his knees. She lectured, "Keep your knees together or cross your legs so that people - or more specifically men - don't look up your skirt to see what underwear you have on!"

He tried to cross his legs the way he had seen his wife do a thousand times. He complained that it was difficult and uncomfortable to cross his legs whilst his balls were crushed up in my groin.

Ellen ignored that comment and decided to kick that can down the street to be dealt with later.

George tried again and commented, "It feels awkward."

"I understand. In time, it will become second nature. Work on this during the week. I bet by my next visit it will be ingrained into your subconscious."

"My lord Ellen this is so different!"

"Nobody said it would be easy. When you are here alone. I expect you to do the assignments I give you. That way, every week we can move on to something new."

George bent over to pick up his shoes as the session ended. Ellen suddenly became agitated. "That is not how a young lady bends over, your skirt rides up and your panties show!" she barked.

"Have you ever seen any woman bend over at the waist. No of course not. You need to bend with your knees and squat. Like this." She stood and demonstrated. After she showed him, he was made to do it over and over again. George cataloged it as another trait he was required to add to his feminine repertoire and solemnly promised to practice it till it became second nature.

This he picked up easily.

@ @ @ @

The next week they tried to work on him talking like a woman. This proved to be a sticking point.

They first tried George with a falsetto he merely managed to sound like Minnie Mouse. All that did was give Ellen the giggles. "Oh, dear me," she said. "We don't have the time or expertise for elocution lessons."

They tried everything they could think of. When he tried to imitate the voice of a woman, he raised his voices to a higher pitch. In the end, he only sounded like a man trying to imitate a woman. He just couldn't seem to get it to an acceptable level.

"I’m sorry Ellen I can’t do this. Have any ideas?"

With an enigmatic smile on her lips, Ellen slipped up next to her husband and lightly placed her hand on his privates as she purred into his ear, "Dear, this is critical if you are stopped and questioned. If you can’t sound more convincing, we may have to resort to gelding you!"

George flinched and snapped, "That’s not funny!"

"I wasn’t trying to be comical; this is deadly serious. Now let’s run it one more time. This time try to focus your voice up in your throat instead of deep down. Put your hand on your upper chest, when you speak normally, as a man you will feel a slight vibration. Find a range where there is no tremor."

Eventually, Ellen decided it was a hopeless situation. Even if he could sound like a convincing woman, he could never carry on a normal conversation as he knew almost no Spanish. If he got the tenor of his voice in the womanly range, his gringo accent would be a dead giveaway. The best bet was to make Heather a mute.

Their only success came when George talked more slowly and used a soft breathy voice. Ellen rationalized that, by sticking to a few Spanish words and phrases, he could possibly get by. She mentally created a checklist. She came up with a short list of phrases that might do. Like ‘my: name is’, ‘hello’, ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘please’, ‘thank you’, and the two most important ones a woman must know in every language. ‘where is the bathroom?’ And lastly, ‘how much is it?’ They worked on those phrases every visit until Ellen was confident, he could get by in an emergency. She taught him to understand a little Spanish, such as; "This way please, show me your papers, and what is your name?"

Ellen’s Spanish had improved with her frequent trips south of the border. She wasn't fluent by any stretch of the imagination, but could navigate and even order from a menu when needed.

CHAPTER 3 - The Plan is Exposed

Each day at home, Ellen continued to refine her plan. She would bounce her plan off her Navy Seal Special Op boyfriend. Together they went over every contingency. As George’s one-year anniversary of incarceration neared, his physical and mental health continued to deteriorate. The urgency to break him out became critical. She had made it a point to develop a relationship with the U.S. border guards and took notes on who worked when. In Mexico, she kept a notebook on which prison guards were conscientious, which ones flirted with the ladies, and which ones just went through the motions.

She had noticed that the guards checking the wives in for the day were seldom the same as the ones at night. Thus, an individual woman was just another number on their board. Unless they stood out for some reason. As the time for George's escape neared, Ellen thought about smuggling some basic makeup supplies into the prison and George could hide them in the end of his mattress with his vitamins. She discarded that thought when George mentioned that his cell had recently been searched, even if it was a cursory one. He had just enough advance notice to hide his pills down his shorts.

It wasn’t a critical issue. She found that when she brought cosmetics in her purse during her visits they were never questioned. She decided to wait to carry them with her the day of the escape. After all, a woman always wants to look her best, coming and going. Getting an extra set of clothes into jail was an issue she was still working on.

She had the train schedules memorized and noted the almost total lack of security at the station. She was convinced that, once they were out of the jail, it would be smooth sailing all the way home. If everything worked as planned, they would be home in their bed before anyone even knew George was missing. The simple thought of having George home in their marital bed brought a smile to her face.

As part of her planning, no small detail was overlooked. She paid a lot of attention to the other visiting wives. How they dressed, their makeup or lack of, what jewelry they used, even the typical hair styles for their Saturday visits. She shopped locally for similar items, so Heather would fade into the background on D-Day. She realized Heather’s makeup would, out of necessity, be heavier than the local peasant girls. But that couldn't be helped if he was to pass successfully.

Again, the transvestite web sites were an excellent source of information on transforming a man’s face into a close facsimile of a women. Things such as contouring to make a nose appear smaller were enlightening. During her time on YouTube she came across men that were astonishing. They not only looked passable but some were down right gorgeous. This experience reminded her of English class and a Shakespearian quote that always stood out to her. ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio. Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’

During her next visit, Ellen looked at her husband objectively. His body had lost his masculine muscle mass and generally softened all over to a more effeminate stature. His face was an entirely different issue. At first glance, his face was too angular to look like anything but a homely woman. Ellen realized that might not be a bad thing. She would have to work on her makeup skills to turn George into a believable woman. He didn’t have to look pretty. In fact, if he came out attractive it might bring unwanted scrutiny. She realized that his legs and derrière were his best feminine characteristics. She would have to find a way to emphasize those assets to distract attention away from his face. He would need a little help with his hair and up top to pass convincingly.

A wig was the obvious answer for his hair. His lack of a feminine curves is what really concerned her. In her research, she had seen where crossdressers sometimes created faux breasts by filling balloons with water. She mulled over that idea before discarding it. If searched there was no logical reason, she could devise to explain why she would be carrying balloons. Then the brilliant idea occurred to her. Having condoms in her purse would go unnoticed. They were similar to balloons – sort of. In the sense they could be filled with water.

During her next Saturday visit, after a quick romp in the hay. She picked up her discarded underwear off the floor and had Heather put on her bra. While he was struggling with that she went to the sink and filled the rubbers with water. She jammed them into the bra cups, spent some time trying to adjust them properly. She stood back to observe and told him to walk for her. Heather gave his best feminine promenade and Ellen evaluated their effectiveness. Sadly, they proved to be a poor substitute for the real thing, the bra cups were lumpy and uneven. Their movement was less than convincing too. On the spot, she determined the only logical solution were silicon breast forms. Luckily, she had the funds to get the best ones out there. She would go first class and purchase the most realistic forms she could get her hands on. The forms would stretch his bra into a realistic shape. According to the manufacturer’s brochure, they would move with his body like the genuine article. The challenge will be getting them into his cell. A problem she would work on.

Two weeks later after a session of frenzied sex, which had become solely oral, Ellen realized that her husband's cock had not gotten hard enough for penetration in weeks. She wondered why, having no other information she eventually attributed it to stress.

Watching her naked husband recovering, she got the impression that other than suffering from erectile dysfunction his body had undergone some other changes, lying next to him she couldn’t put her finger on what seemed different. His stamina had drastically improved and he was in better overall physical shape, even on the food the prison fed him. Ellen spent some time and energy pondering about her husband's changing physique. "George, stand up over by the door for a minute, with your hands by your sides please." Ellen requested.

Ellen scrutinized George closely for the changes she suspected. Ellen had him stand facing her then turn slowly to display his profile. She examined his body from head to toe and could see that his contour had changed over the last few months. The body before her almost was unrecognizable from the one she slept with those long months ago. His hair was now long enough to reach his shoulders. It was longer than she had ever seen on him. Obviously, he had lost weight. His abs were trim, there wasn’t an ounce of fat to be found anywhere on his stomach. Her eyes drifted to the swell of his hips, and past the soft curves of his ass to his toned legs. As disturbing as that was, what concerned her the most was the George appeared to have gained fat in his upper torso. The muscles in his arms are smaller; but what was of greater concern to her they appeared to have lost definition as well, which only emphasized the excess flab on his chest.

"George have you really looked at yourself in silhouette?"

"Why no, my mirror is too tall for me. Standing in front of it all I can see is from my chin up. Which is good enough to shave and comb my hair. I have never seen my profile, why is there something wrong?"

A disturbing thought occurred to her. She might be the one responsible for his mutation. Even a cursory glance revealed that her man was sprouting prepubescent breasts. She pulled the vitamin bottle she had brought along out of her purse. A detailed examination of the ingredients told her what she suspected. Her heart raced as she did a quick Google search on her phone. The results terrified her. Now she had to break the news to her husband.

"Honey, come over here and sit down," she said, holding a hand out to him. Once he was seated, she turned to him and looked him in the eye. "Have you been feeling okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine dear," he replied. "The food hasn't been outstanding, but it isn't garbage, just repetitious. I'm just glad for the vitamins because I am sure they are giving me the supplements that are missing from my diet. Some of the other prisoners have gotten sick because they are not eating properly."

"Sick how?" She asked.

"From what I hear from the guards, they are nauseous, have to pee all the time and a general feeling of fatigue. Does that mean anything to you?"

Ellen smiled and thought it couldn’t be that – not in a men’s prison.

She picked up her phone and did a couple of additional searches. The results were not encouraging.

She returned her attention to her husband.

Ellen nodded. "George, I have to tell you something. You may not like what I have to say." She paused to marshal her thoughts. "You remember that I had to bring you the vitamins in a bottle that said that they were women's vitamins?"

At his nod, she continued. "Well, those vitamins are intended solely for women. I wanted the strongest I could get. They are prescription strength. I have been getting them from my doctor."

When her voice trailed off, he prodded her to continue. "So, what? Vitamins are vitamins. They have been helping me."

"You don't understand George," Ellen said, pain in her voice.

Seeing that he still didn't get it, she spelled it out for him. "There are natural hormone supplements in them, they are made solely for women. I didn’t notice till just now. They are intended for women going through the change of life. The doses are so low I am surprised they have had such a drastic effect on your body. All I can think of that it is because you have not been getting the minimal nutrition in your food that your body needs. The vitamins have been filling your body’s requirements."

Ellen sadly confessed she had just done did some research concerning his condition. She discovered an interesting article and told George the bad news. "There are a few key factors that cause what I think you have, gynecomastia. It is nothing serious, only a rubbery mass of fat underneath your nipple area. It is commonly called man boobs and is the result of a hormonal imbalance. Normally as a result of high estrogen levels, low testosterone, combined with a low metabolism."

She took a deep breath and went on, "These are like the wheels in a system that turns each other. Excess estrogen signals the body to develop breast tissue, retain more fat in the chest, lower testosterone production as well as reduce metabolism which is how the body burns fat. Pectoral fat act as a secondary gland in the production of estrogen by secreting the enzyme aromatase that converts testosterone to estrogen. This in turn increases estrogen levels and this forms a negative feedback loop."

"So dear, I am speculating the low levels of estrogen in your vitamins were like a snow ball rolling downhill. It just picked up speed."

Now George began to grasp his wife's point. The realization as it crossed his face said it all. "You mean?"

Ellen nodded and said, "I'm afraid so. We will need a doctor's confirmation; but I suspect the flab on your chest is not fat but the beginning of breast tissue. Haven't you noticed that they are more sensitive?"

“My nipples have been itching and my chest is a little tender. I didn't think anything of it."

Ellen trying to reassure her spooked husband said, "In any case it is nothing to worry about. The article says about 3 million men a year in the U.S. have the condition. Usually it resolves on its own with a proper diet and exercise."

George with a depressed expression on his face thought about what this all meant. Not only was he stuck in a stockade, but his manhood wasn’t responding like it should and he was slowly developing womanly appendages. The other inmates would beat him to death when they found out. That was the best that he could hope for.

Seeing the horrified look on her husband's face, Ellen grabbed him into a tight hug. "Things are going to be okay!" She said into his ear. "Think of the positive side. This will just help with your disguise and then we can fix things when we get home again. From what I remember from my biology classes. As long as it has been less than six months, once you stop hormones your body will revert back to its manly shape on its own."

Her words helped to settle him down and his terrified breathing slowed down. Until he calculated he had been taking the vitamins for way over three months.

Then to make him feel better, she made her announcement, "Honey, I have found the perfect date for your escape. Thanks to the Christian church, it is like a gift from heaven. While I was checking my calendar, I realized that next weekend is Easter, which is one of the biggest holidays in this country. The Saturday before would be the perfect time to go. Talking to the guards, I heard that with Sunday being a holiday, the inmates wouldn't have their rollcall until they mustered for the noon meal. That would give us almost a full day's head start."

Ellen thought, 'My Heather is not exactly femininity personified, but his presentation is good enough for what needs to be done. This is going to work; nothing can go wrong; she was almost positive.'

She rationalized that he didn't need to be passible 100% of the time. He simply had to be good enough to get out of the prison, get aboard the train, ride it to Tijuana, and get across the border.

As she was leaving, she gave George his final instructions. "Saturday morning, I want you to wash all over as best you can by using the sink. Do not shave, I will take care of that when I get here. Don't plan on taking any personal items. They will all be left behind."

She headed home on the evening train. During the week, she contacted a lawyer and left him a sealed envelope with instructions for her business and a contingency retainer if things went bad. Then she went shopping. She had a ball, shopping for her girlfriend. First, she got all the cosmetics in George's shades to best complete his conversion into a believable Heather. She already had the Mexican dress Heather would wear to get out the front gate. Then she selected the perfect fashionable garments for the two of them to travel in. The plan was that, once on the train, they would dump the Mexican dresses and travel home in appropriate Yankee outfits. The last thing she wanted was for the two of them to show up at the border looking like Mexican refugees.

George's sister, Beth, had been read into the entire plan. She had gotten into this James Bond stuff and suggested they devise a confidential way to communicate, just in case. They had gone to the library and created a new email account under a name that only they knew. It would be used only in dire emergencies. Either could leave messages and their identities would be untraceable. Beth promised she would do anything she could to help Ellen get her brother home.

Early Saturday morning, Ellen packed everything they would need in a small overnight bag. She drove to George's sister's house and left her car there with Beth for safe keeping. Beth then drove her to the trolley station that would take her to the border and then she would catch the local train south.

CHAPTER 4 - The Not so Great Escape

The train ride down was put to good use. She went over her plan again in her head. The issues of smuggling in an extra dress was settled by her wearing them both at once, one over the other. A similar solution solved getting underwear for Heather. Ellen had on her normal panties, under a pair of padded panties that she would give to Heather to enhance his girlie figure.

The issue that haunted her for a long time was his bust line. He had little girl itty-bitty titties; but, even with a padded bra, they would not be large enough, hence the need for the breast forms. She bit the bullet and brought an oversized bra, her plan called for her to put it on and add the forms over her own breasts. She would look a tad busty but decided they would get them into the prison. She had always wondered what it would be like to have pornstar sized breasts, for a short time she would find out. Luckily, the oversized dress would camouflage her new dimensions and not draw unwanted attention to her chest.

The major concern was how she was going to get out without a number card. Her plan called for her slipping out of his cell early and mingling with the woman in the courtyard leaving at 2. That would leave Heather on her own with the numbered card for several hours, but it should work. If Ellen was stopped, she would simply claim she dropped it in George’s cell and go back for it.

@ @ @ @

The evening before the great escape George slept like shit, he tossed and turned all night. He woke up exhausted and excited. The day finally arrived, sunny and hot. George waited for his wife’s return and was counting the minutes. He skipped the normal breakfast of refried beans and tortillas and spent the time washing his body with hand soap and a rag using the water from his sink. Time seemed to stop, waiting until noon when the wives and girlfriends were allowed in. He spent the time daydreaming about her. He was such a lucky man; she was quite a woman. With the many sides to her personality. Depending on her mood, she could be Mata Hari, a sensuous wife, a successful business woman, a guardian angel, and cheerleader all rolled into one.

The train arrived on time. She took her case to the baño de las mujeres. She went into a stall and put on the extra bra over her normal one. She filled it with the forms before slipping on both dresses. Then she forced a long-haired wig over her own hair and combed it into place. She wore a pair of open-toed sandals, with another pair in her purse. Finally, she filled her purse with all the required cosmetics and a sewing kit. Satisfied she had everything she checked herself in the mirror.

Going to the ATM, she withdrew several hundred pesos for cab fare and emergencies like bribes, if needed. She locked the travel case in a station locker. It had all her necessities such as a change of underwear, jewelry, makeup, perfume, two purses, pantyhose and sunglasses, plus a complete change of clothes for both her and Heather for their return trip. Confidently, she took a cab to the prison and waited with the other ladies for noon.

@ @ @ @

As the gates swung open, Ellen joined the rush. She waited her turn, identified herself and got her number. She dropped it into her purse for safe keeping and headed for George's cell.

Not bothering to knock, she pushed open his door. She rushed in her body flushed with adrenalin. and closed it behind her. She found George sitting rigidly on the edge of his bed. Not bothering with niceties of a greeting, she ordered, "Get up and strip honey, we have a lot of work to do!"

When Ellen stormed into his room, it startled him. He looked up and saw Ellen. She wore an extra-large loose skirt and carried a large colorful bag as her purse. Entering his cell, she emptied the contents of her bag on his cot and spread them out. In addition to the normally found items in a woman’s purse, a flood of cosmetics, a bottle of nail polish, a travel size antiperspirant, a disposable razor, a mini travel size perfume atomizer and sandals came tumbling out and were spread out on his bed. Everything designed to be explainable, when she was searched.

She slipped off her dress to reveal she was wearing another underneath; she withdrew the silicon blobs and took off the padded bra and added them to the collection of objects on the bed. She wore a normal plain white bra that would serve for their planned breakout and wouldn’t attract unwanted attention. She also took off the wig she was wearing, revealing her own hair under it. She laid it out carefully on the bed. She stepped out of her padded panty girdle, designed to provide her husband with some feminine curves. She laid it all out on the bed. She had George strip for an inspection. Six months in prison had eliminated his spare tire, she estimated his waist measurement couldn’t have been over 28 inches.

The two of them stood there, Ellen dressed and George stark naked. George was terrified, Ellen needed to do something to relieve his nervousness. She pulled George into her arms and held him. It took a while but George finally gave in and relaxed. They both realized if something went wrong this might well be the last time that they could be intimate.

While George stood naked, Ellen retrieved the razor and ordered him to stand perfectly still. She explained that she would only shave the area absolutely necessary. His legs were sheared from the knees down, then his arms from the elbows to his fingertips. She handed him her Secret deodorant and ordered him to use it.

"Sit on the bed, Heather." She directed as she pushed the elements of his disguise to one side to make room.

Ellen used tweezers to pluck the sparse hairs on his face so that it was smooth. Then she sat back with a very satisfied look on her face. “Now we need to do something with your eyebrows! Most women have two, not one!” Ellen joked.

She leaned in close and began plucking and trimming his eyebrows to give some arch to them. Satisfied, she moved on to the next phase and took a file and a bottle of nail polish off the bed. At warp speed, she gave him a pedicure while his toes dried, she gave him a manicure using the same red polish.

She then disrobed. George started to get excited. Ellen smiled at his reaction, flattered. "Relax dear. We don't have time for that right now. Wait until tonight, I promise you an evening you will never forget."

Then, as promised, she picked the padded panties off the bed and had Heather slip them on. Their main function was to give George womanlier haunches. She reached in and tucked his testes back up in his abdominal cavity from which they came. Then she tucked his man thing back out of the way. She next picked up the breast forms and retrieved his bra from the bed. She hooked it around his chest and positioned the forms into it and adjusted the straps. She stood back and was pleased at what she was seeing, his form was shaping up nicely.

She told him to sit while she got what she needed next. He sat gingerly on the bed with his boy parts all squished. What she did next shocked her husband, she got her sewing kit, selected a long straight needle. Pinching his earlobe, she drove the shiny skewer through the lobe. After he stopped whining, she inserted an earring post through the hole.

"What the hell was that?" Whined George.

"Heather, it is a cultural thing. Latino's, especially most Mexican woman, have pierced ears. These will help you blend in. This is necessary. Just relax. We'll be home tomorrow. Once you take it out, the hole will heal closed. Now brace yourself while I do the other one."

Three minutes later, he had two attractive turquoise teardrop earrings swinging from his lobes.

"Now for the fun part, your makeup. This is so important. If we can get it right, it will hide so much. You won't believe the difference it will make."

All George could do was to nod. With his nails dry, she spent ages with the foundation, blusher, eye-shadow, eye-liner. She then drew a demure brow arch over each eye. In a medium brown color just enough to give a womanly definition to his former manly brows. Next the pièce de résistance a rich raspberry red lipstick that matched his fingernails followed by several coats of shiny lip-gloss. She could see how the lipstick brought out an exaggerated but sexy pout. The finished product gave George the girl next store look. At last, she was done and she handed him his dress.

He hesitated, but Ellen was in no mood for this. "Damn it, be a man George and put on your dress. We don't have time for this foolishness."

His protestations aside, he complied. Once he had it on, Ellen buttoned it up and then tied a brightly colored scarf loosely about his neck to conceal his Adams apple.

After his makeup she combed his wig, wanting everything to be perfect.

The sandals were next then he was handed his purse, with his card number and for authenticity sake some makeup in it.

Thanks to her efforts, he came out better than either of them thought possible. He was cute in a Mary Tylor More type of way. He was not beautiful by any stretch of the imagination; but would fit right in with any group of mothers at the local PTA meeting. Ellen felt a tingle in her stomach, she knew this was going to work. He would be a free man within a few hours.

He was so anxious; he was afraid he would pee his panties. His hands reached for the edge of the bed to steady himself. His pulse and breath quickened as the pores of his skin began to sweat profusely, threatening to spoil everything Ellan had done. His chest heaved that set his gelatinous mounds quivering. He tried to catch his breath. Ellen stood back and examined her creation with a cool but evaluating gaze.

She pontificated, "Look at you Heather, try to be objective. Don’t focus on your face, concentrate on the whole picture. Now, tell me. Are they legs that would make you whistle? Your face is not beauty contestant material, but the overall image says there is a mature woman standing here."

She had him strolling around the cell, not so much for the practice; but more so to calm him down.

George walked to the sink and stood staring at the reflection before him and suddenly got cold feet. It was a little surreal to see someone else's face in the mirror. The person he had been was filled with self-loathing; he wasn't a man any longer. Dressed as a woman, he felt a high degree of vulnerability and wondered if this wasn’t how all women felt. He wanted out of prison; but was this the right way to do it?

He turned to his wife with his arms outstretched and inquired. "So, does this make me less of a man to you? I feel like such a powder puff."

Ellen sensed his indecision. her eyes flamed with anger, "So that's what you're worried about? We are about to break the law and escape from a heavily guarded prison and your biggest concern is about your manly pride. Well, I obviously don't see a man here now. Are you currently manly? No absolutely not!

"Honey, take a look in the mirror, you may not be a runway model; but at this moment you are 100% believable."

Her voice softened, taking the sting out of her previous statement.

"On the other hand, are you sexy? You bet! I know what's under that dress and it gets me really excited. Looking beyond all this, I see a man, a husband brave enough to show his feminine side to escape a horrible situation. That makes him a better person in my mind. Is that what you wanted to know?"

George had stiffened at his wife's initial outburst, but he was visibly relieved when Ellen had not followed it up with a vicious attack on his manhood.

"Yes, thank you. It makes me happy to hear you say it. That aside Ellen, I don't think I can go through with this."

He looked like he had lost his best friend and also lost his nerve. "Ducky, the clothes and makeup are merely props until we can get you back home. They don't say anything about your masculinity. Look at Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie. You are a man pretending to be a woman. Nothing more. This certainly doesn’t make you gay if that is what you are concerned about. Besides, it is way too late to back out."

"Wait a minute, you promised I could back out at any time!"

"True you can change your mind but there will be consequences.

“For example, you currently have really pretty red shiny nails. The bad news for you is that I didn't bring any polish remover. How will you explain your hands and feet to the other inmates?"

"I’ll scrap the polish off."

This wasn’t the place or way she wanted to tell him her big secret, but he left her no choice. She then held him at arm's length and looked directly into his eyes as she told him, "More importantly, I have to get you out of here. Our baby is going to need a father."

George grasped, "Oh, my goodness…you mean?"

"Yes dear, after all those years of trying it has finally happened. Our baby will be here in about 7 months, I am not positive of the exact date. So, we need to get you home where you belong."

They just held each other for the longest time. Until it was time for her getaway.

On the inside George was doing a happy dance, a baby would ensure his legacy. He vowed he would be the best father in the world.

She finally broke his embrace and gave him a couple of light squirts of perfume before hugging him tightly again. "It's White Diamonds perfume. Don't you just love it? I wear it when I want to feel particularly feminine. It's such a soft, feminine, flowery, pretty scent." George was deliriously happy that he was finally going to be a father. He momentarily forgot about the danger he was about to face.

Then just as she stood to go out the door, she remembered something. She took George's wedding ring that she had been wearing on her right hand and had Heather slip it back on his left hand saying, "Now that is back where it belongs." Then she handed him his handbag, he glanced in and saw it was filled with lipstick, powder compact, lacy handkerchief, and finally - feeling extremely daring - a couple of condoms and a tampon. She smiled at her husbands shocked reaction. "I don’t anticipate you needing either of these items, remember you just came from a conjugal visit those will add authenticity to your disguise." She then added her wooden number chip.

George hated to but had to ask, "What happens if the guards stop you and demand your numbered card?"

"I’ll simply tell them I forgot it in your cell. Then I will come back here and we will figure out something to do. Now relax nothing is going to go wrong. My plan is perfect. I have thought of everything." Bragged Ellen.

Ellen did one last sweep of the room to ensure she left no evidence of prisoner 875479’s transformation into a senorita.

"Heather, I will be waiting for you across the street. Remember that, once out the gate, walk don't run to me."

Then, with a cheery goodbye as she slipped out of the door she said, "Vaya Con Dios, mi amor."

George was a quivering mass of jelly. Having nothing else to do he checked his cell one more time to ensure they didn’t leave any clues that would give the Federales any indication how they had escaped.

@ @ @ @

Ellen made her way to the court yard where she tried to blend in. She waited for the bell to signal that it was time to go. She mingled among the other woman, trying to make herself anonymous in the crowd. Protocol called for each woman to go into the guard shack and check out and get her name removed from the visitor's log. She got to the door and bent over as if she was adjusting a strap on her sandal. When the first group left the building, she simply fell in with them and walked past the scrutiny of the nearby gate guards. The chaos of the holiday press helped to mask her presence.

Once out, she breathed a little easier and calmly crossed the street and took a seat in a small café across from the gate to wait. She took a seat that had an unobstructed view of the entrance. She was too nervous to eat so over the next few hours she had one coffee after another. Being an attractive gringa, she attracted some unwanted attention. She kept her head down and appeared to focus attention on her espresso and cell phone.

There was only so much she could do with her phone. Her purse got inventoried a dozen times. The time dragged on. A few minutes before 5, she paid her bill and stood outside in the dusty street with her heart beating like a drum. Nervously, she fingered the locker key in her purse.

@ @ @ @

Nothing left to do, George moved to the door and leaned against it. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited in self-imposed darkness. He wasn’t certain he could do it, and yet something pushed him on. He did something next he hadn’t done since he was a small child. He prayed not for himself, but for Ellen and his unborn child. As he did, a calmness washed over him that gave him the courage to try this. George had been standing behind his cell door for an eternity. He was unable to shake the feeling of impending doom. The consequences of getting caught trying to escape dressed as a female were almost unimageable. He struggled to keep his breathing under control as he waited.

Since prisoners weren't allowed watches, he had no idea how long he had been standing there. Once the five o'clock bell rang, George’s heart raced, he opened the door of his cell and stepped out onto the landing dressed, for the first time outside, as a girl. He thought his heart would burst. He took one last look back to ensure everything was alright. He had bunched his clothes under his blanket to look like he was asleep in bed. He closed the door.

He took a deep breath to settle his nerves and ventured out into the valley of death. He fell into the rear of the crowd of ladies moving toward the gate. He could feel beads of sweat rolling down his back, gluing his dress to his skin.

He tried to remember everything he had been taught and concentrated on his walk and mannerisms. Before he knew it, he was only feet away from the guard box.

As he approached the guards raised dais, he couldn't hear as blood rushed through his ears. His throat was like the Sahara. He was an emotional basket case. He reached into his purse to find the card. He was so jumpy he had a difficult time grasping it. Keeping his head down he reached up and handed the chip to the sentry. The guard took a few seconds to find the open slot. Without saying anything he waved him on.

George took two steps and a guard who was ushering the ladies out yelled, "Alto!" Which he knew meant stop. George’s heart sank and there was a moment of panic. All the guards turned to see what the problem was. He froze thinking the gig was up. Inside his head, he was screaming 'run' freedom was only 75 feet away.

CHAPTER 5 - A word to the wise. Never trust anyone that says ‘Trust me’

He turned to see what the guard wanted. He managed to hold it together long enough to find out what the problem was. The guard bent over and picked up a tube of lipstick and handed it to George. It had apparently fallen out of his purse when he retrieved the number. He used his well-practiced feminine smile at the guard. George was amazed his voice worked at all. His freedom riding on it, he managed in his best Heather voice to thank the guard. It took a minute or so to get his breathing under control and Heather hastily made his way out the gate. Knowing at any moment he was going to be shot in the back.

He spied Ellen almost immediately and made a beeline to her. She acknowledged him with a nod of the head and walked up the road away from the prison. George quickly fell in beside her. With a hurried stroll they made their way up the street side by side, Ellen looked back over her shoulder and commented, "I saw the guard stop you. What was that all about?"

"Oh, that was nothing, he just cured my constipation. I’ll explain it to you later, now let’s get the hell out of here." At the next corner, Ellen flagged down a cab. Ellen turned to her partner and squeezed his hand. She whispered into his ear, "We did it. I am so proud of you. You were so brave."

"Thanks, but I didn’t feel brave. I was scared to death."

"Honey, felling brave isn’t the same as being brave. It’s how you acted that defined your actions."

They rode to the train station in silence. George’s heart swelled with pride it was the only time in his life anyone said he was brave. He kept looking out the back window checking for pursuit.

@ @ @ @

The taxi pulled into the train station. The parking lot was a fury of activity. People were milling about in small groups, several police cars and even an army truck were about. Ellen helped Heather out.

George said softy, "Do you think they know I've escaped?"

"I have no idea. I have never seen it like this before. Wait over there under that tree, out of the way while I go find out what’s going on."

Ellen was gone for what seemed like an eternity. She returned pulling her carryon suitcase, which George took as a good sign. "What's going on Ellen? Can we go now? All these police and soldiers are making me nervous. I really need to pee."

She pulled Heather further away so they could talk privately. "I was only able to understand a little bit. I didn't want to draw attention to myself by asking too many questions. I did find out they are looking for an American. Everyone trying to board the train headed north is under rigid scrutiny. We are going to have a change of plans. I don't think you would survive an interrogation."

George was literally shaking with fear. If he were made of metal, he would have rattled. "My lord, I'm so screwed! If they drag me back to jail looking like this I will be literally and well as figuratively fucked!"

Ellen looked thoughtful for a moment and said, "Not necessarily, the passengers headed south are being waved through."

"How does that help me?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "It's US, dimwit! I'm in this as deep as you now, if WE get caught, I will be spending my pregnancy in a jail cell.

“I think I have a plan to get us out of here and someplace safe."

"I hope this plan is better than your last one."

George’s comment stung. He might have been the one who had been in prison for all these months, but she was doing her best and she had just as much to lose. She rebuked him, "That was uncalled for!"

He remorsefully said, "You're right. I'm sorry."

Slightly mollified, Ellen continued in a quiet voice. "We need to run from the law and hide. I picked up some brochures on beach resorts south of here. Someplace with a lot of tourists where we could check into a hotel as two girlfriends, hunker down, and wait for the heat to die down."

George did a brief impersonation of a goldfish gasping for air. "Did you say as girlfriends? That implies you want me to continue in this disguise."

The last thing he wanted to do was to continue his masquerade as Heather. He had been her for only a few minutes and had nearly soiled himself. What will the next few days produce?

Ellen patted him on the shoulder as if he was a small dimwitted child. "Think about it. They may know you’ve escaped but there is no way they will look for Heather. A woman will go unnoticed. They will be searching for an American man. Not a girl. It will protect us both."

George was not convinced, "I don't know about this flying by the seat of your pants plan it sounds iffy to me."

"If you have a better idea, I’m willing to listen."

George kept his mouth shut.

Ellen took his silence as consent. "Relax. I have it figured out. I went to the ATM and withdrew as much cash as my card would allow. Everyone knows I'm here, so if they trace that transaction, it won’t help them find me. I took the chip out of my phone. We will not use any computers or our normal emails so we will be off the grid and live off our cash reserves."

"Now give me your hand, we need to get going. I already have our tickets to San Quintin."

If he wasn’t so scared, he would have laughed, "Perfect, it already sounds like a prison."

As they slowly walked toward the train station, Ellen calmly said, "According to the brochure, there are dozens of beach resorts there. We will hide in plain sight."

The two walked through several checkpoints by simply showing their tickets. They sat in a partially empty train car and didn't relax until the train pulled out of the station. The first thing Heather did was to go into the toilet, where he struggled but eventually got his padded and girly pants down so he could urinate. He hauled everything back into place and sat next to Ellen. Her original plan called for them to ditch their Mexican attire during the train ride. Seeing as how they were now going deeper into Mexico, she decided they would travel as is.

Going from the frying pan into the fire. They arrived at the San Quintin station. As they stepped off the train their senses were overwhelmed by the cool night air, being a beach city, the marine layer had set in. After months of living in the stale hot dry climate of the prison, it was a welcome relief to George. The smell of the sea was also prevalent. Heather stood and took large gulping breathes, while Ellen flagged a taxi. The driver spoke English so Ellen asked his recommendations for a resort. She explained that they were on a limited budget. The driver took them to a resort that could be called second tier but was one third the price of the fancier ones.

The place was a little run down; but had a gorgeous beach, all the amenities associated with a resort, a nice lobby, business center, a giftshop and an attached restaurant and bar.

Ellen sent Heather into the lobby with their luggage and went to reception and checked them into a room. All that was available was a room with a double bed which suited Ellen just fine so, for first time in a long time, they would be sleeping in a real bed. It appeared that Ellen and Heather would be the only non-Latino woman registered. Ellen reflected that Heather's Native American coloring would let her blend in somewhat.

While Ellen checked in, Heather sat in the lobby opposite a TV screen. It was showing a news program from Mexico City. He sat in front of a television and even though he didn’t understand a word they were saying the pictures distracted him. George just about died when his mug shot was flashed on the screen.

Ellen finished at the reception desk and found him trembling like a leaf, with his head in his hands. "What's the matter Ducky?" she whispered in his ear.

"The television news. I have no idea what they were saying but they had my picture on."

There was a bellboy standing off in the corner, Ellen went over and asked if he spoke English. He said yes. She asked, "Did you see the evening news?"

"Si Señorita."

Ellen blushed and smiled at the young lad and held up her left hand and said, "It's Señora."

"Pardón you are just so young and pretty. I did not mean to offend."

Ellen thought the kid has a real effective line there. She wondered how many touristas had fallen for it.

The young Romeo went on. "There was an armed robbery up near the border. During the holdup, a hotel clerk was shot by a masked hombre, the police think it was a norteamericano. He was caught trying to board the train to Tijuana."

Ellen gave a sigh of relief; the security wasn't for George. She was about to leave when the bellhop added. "There was also an escape from the prison. A known drug dealer walked out of jail. El Presidente has promised he would be hunted down like a dog. The national police are looking for him. They promised he will be captured soon. May God have mercy on his soul once he is captured. Our police do not like being made to look like fools. They promise to hunt him down."

At which point the bellhop crossed himself.

Ellen thanked the lad and went to find George. Grabbing his arm, she hurried him to their room, telling him to keep his head down and not to make eye contact. She was determined to keep him under cover and free.

Once they were sequestered in their room, she sent George to take a hot bath, a luxury he had not enjoyed in months. As he soaked, she got ready for bed. George stumbled out of the bathroom physically and emotionally spent. Before he was allowed to collapse into bed, Ellen handed him a gorgeous apricot silk nightdress and matching panties.

"You have had to put up with the uncomfortable aspects of dressing as a woman. It is only fair you experience the pleasure of lovely nightwear." She told him with an affectionate smile.

"We women may still have to fight for equal treatment in society, but there are many compensatory pleasures we secretly enjoy. Welcome to the club senorita!"

He was too tired to argue and collapsed into bed wearing his panties and nightgown. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

The two slept like sister and brother. The strain of the day had taken its toll on both of them.

At sunrise, Ellen returned to the lobby to see if she could find out anything more about the manhunt for George.

Afraid to ask directly, she inquired if there were any English newspapers. She was pointed to a table in the lobby with parts of newspapers scattered about. She found a local English paper. As nonchalantly as she could, she sat and read the articles about the shootout and prison break. As she had just heard, the authorities were conducting a nationwide manhunt for the escaped prisoner. Thankfully, there were no photos of George. The warden was promising a full investigation to determine how George escaped. They were at a loss as to how he had broken out. For now, they were questioning the guards, seeing as how the convict was a rich American, they were looking at bribery as the most likely explanation.

She saw a headline in one of the English papers that made her blood run cold. She picked the paper up and brought it back to there room. She handed it to George, he read it with dread in his heart. It was unbelievable that anyone would consider him to be dangerous. The headlines read, "Because of pressure from the highest levels, the authorities have put together a team of elite officers to track down and capture the escapee. Those who come across this individual are reminded to keep a distant and contact the local authorities immediately. Repeat, this is a highly dangerous individual, and could be armed."

Ellen saw that the only hope to keep her husband from getting caught was for him to not only remain being a woman for the foreseeable future, but being the most believable one he could be short of a sex change. She went back to the reservation desk and extended their reservations for a full two weeks and paid in cash, despite the resort's preference for a credit card. Noticing a sign that the resort had complimentary toiletry articles, she collected a goodie bag and hurried back to their room.

George crawled out of bed wearing only his underpants and nightgown. Despite the fact he was a wanted man, he had enjoyed his first real night’s sleep. Ellen took a seat in the room’s arm chair and let him wake up fully. As George’s eyes fluttered open, Ellen detailed her plan. They would stay at the resort, until the manhunt ran out of steam or until they ran out of money. He would remain in his Heather persona, fulltime. She folded her hands in her lap remaining calm in the face of George's sudden panic.

"Honey, I know how this must strain your male ego. But we have to let pragmatism rule. In a macho culture like this, the last thing they would think of is you pretending to be a woman. Don’t let pride get in the way of our future."

Once he had calmed down, she went on. "We will have to be frugal in how we spend our money." She explained that cost of the room would eat up much of their cash reserves.

Caught in the conundrum of going back to jail or living full time as a woman, George hesitantly agreed to turn his future over to his wife. He rationalized that, once things were settled, he could go back to being George. But something told him it was not going to be that easy.

George needed to use the facilities. From the bathroom he called out, "Ellen could you come here and help get these earrings out of my ears?"

Ellen rushed to her husband’s aid. "Dear let me ask you, how many adult women do you know without pierced ears?"

"None I can think of, but I am sure there are some."

"You are probably right. However, we want Heather to blend in. The fewer anomalies the better. I think you should leave them in."

"Come on Ellen, be reasonable; the holes will become permanent. I don’t know any accountant with pierced ears. When I go back to being a man, I will be a freak."

Ellen smiled at his naivete, "Get with it honey. Hardly a freak, I would say more hip."

George knew he had lost another one so he surrendered without a fight, "Okay, if you think it is that important. I will trust you."

She explained the first thing she had to do was completely shave his body. She took him to the bathroom and had him jump into the shower. He stood and let the water wash over him. Ellen picked up the shaving cream and razor she had been given by the front desk. She rubbed the gel into his legs, running her long fingernails up and down his leg, hesitating and caressing the tender skin near his groin for just a second. Then she began shaving. In a hypnotic motion, stroke after stroke, she removed the hair from first one leg, and then the other. He closed his eyes and relaxed. It was humiliating, but it was also a sensual experience. Never one to do things half way she shaved his entire body. She did mean completely, for authenticity's sake and for a little fun. She got a kick out of watching her husband’s reaction as she saved his genitals.

It took a while to remove all his body hair. Finally, she was satisfied he was completely hairless from the tip of his nose to the top of his toes.

After his denuding, she used the skin lotion provided by the hotel and worked it into his skin until it felt silky smooth. His flabby chest, man tool, and the twin baby makers received special attention. After almost a year's monk like existence, George thoroughly enjoyed his wife's ministration and he stood in a trance-like state, relishing the intimacy of the moment. When she finished, his cock wasn't exactly rigid; but she had demonstrated that it could still get firm, with the proper care and attention. Her hands even managed to generate a pearl of pre-cum off his tip.

After finishing, she washed her hands and left without saying a word. Ellen skipped back to the bedroom where she disrobed and scrambled on to the bed anticipating a night of lustful fun.

Coming out of his trance, George found himself alone and shivering. He had never felt so exposed before. He took a towel and wrapped it around his waist, then catching his profile in the mirror his heart skipped a beat. Where his pectoral muscles should have been now hung two loose blobs of flesh. They were small but noticeable. Because of the height of the mirror in his cell, he had never seen his profile since he left home. His fleshy chest didn’t look very large when he looked down, however when seeing his gynecomastia enhanced chest in profile, they seemed to jump out at him. He couldn’t fool himself any longer, he had tried to convince himself that a set of man boobs are normal for a guy who leads a sedentary lifestyle. What was on his chest weren’t that. He realized that protruding from his chest were the beginnings of feminine breasts. They were tiny but perceptible.

Panic rose in him. His mind raced. What was he going to do? This was awful. He was in trouble.

He rubbed his chest with a towel, as if they would rub off, and electricity shot through him. The feeling was between painful and enjoyable. He pushed them into his chest, as if they would disappear from whence, they came and they sprang back, and it was as if wires were running from the nipples to his soul. He felt his mouth grow dry in fear. He now had two bouncy globs of flesh tipped with two large sensitive nipples that seemed to want to stiffen at even the slightest provocation. He was embarrassed to appear before his wife looking like this. He hoped Ellen would know what to do.

He took a second bath towel and used it to conceal his unmanly chest. As her husband bashfully tiptoed into the room, Ellen had to fight the urge to laugh at his attempt at modesty. She just smiled at him and coiled her finger in the unmistakable 'come here' gesture.

George shakily walked to the bedside. Ellen’s hand lashed out to grab the towel around his waist. She pulled it away before he could react, revealing his limp penis. She engaged him in a tug-of-war for the towel covering his chest. After a prolonged contest, he sighed and let go of the towel and said. "Okay. I knew when to throw in the towel." That broke the tension and both had a good laugh.

Ellen was giddy with excitement and fully aroused.

His developing breasts were on full display. In fact, they weren't that large, at the most a small 'A' cup. But she bet they seemed huge from George's perspective.

Her eyes roamed his body, she couldn’t but help to noticed his penis was plump but not rigid. She wondered if they had enough money for a bottle of Viagra or if they even had it in Mexico. ED was not an affliction that affected nipples. So there had to be another explanation for what rose out from his chest like two small granite pillars. Ellen could not but help notice that his two little love cones of nipples, weren't so little anymore. As she was about to discover they proved to be powerful erroneous zones. The mere sight of them inexplicably got her juices flowing. It had been a long time since she had experimented with lesbianism. This current situation brought up feelings she hadn’t felt since school and she felt very conflicted.

The atmosphere was electric as George allowed himself to be pulled onto the bed.

Ellen pulled her hermaphrodite hubby into bed for a night of decadent oral sex. They both found themselves using the intimacy as a way to release their built-up tensions and to forget their troubles. Adapting the Mexican philosophy of mañana, they would worry about what to do next tomorrow. Ellen was like an animal. She quickly twisted into the classic 69 position and George sought out Ellen's love canal where he kissed and licked her sensitive spot to the first of many orgasms. She in turn took him into her mouth. She nursed on his limp member for the longest time. It never got hard enough to penetrate her, but he seemed to enjoy the experience.

Her activities managed to give him a good deal of pleasure, even if it wasn’t full-fledged orgasm. The reward for her efforts was several earth-shattering orgasms as he eagerly reciprocated with his talented mouth and tongue. For the remainder of their Mexican vacation, this became their preferred method of lovemaking that proved sufficient if not satisfactory for both parties.

As the morning sunlight filled the room with a warm glow, Ellen felt like she had fallen in love with George all over again. As she lay with her head in the soft valley between his breasts, Ellen became concerned. She could not imagine how the small number of herbal supplements she had inadvertently caused him to consume could have had such an effect upon a middle-aged male. She wondered if there wasn’t something else more sinister in play here.

There was a business center attached to the resort with access to free internet. She decided to do some research on the subject at the first opportunity. However, for the moment his breasts just like hers were without a doubt a sexual stimulant for both of them and she was going to take advantage of that. She raised up her head and gave the closest nipple a playful kiss. They fell back asleep and took a nap, naked and embracing each other, her head resting gently upon Heather's bosom.

For the remainder of their two-week reservations, they held up in their room, having nothing else to do. Ellen put George through an intensive non-stop feminization boot camp, believing eventually Heather was going to have to make an appearance and, in all likelihood, would have to travel through Mexico in his female disguise. Local venders often wandered the grounds where Ellen picked up jewelry for a few pesos. She picked out several sets of earrings, then made him pick out several as well. The same pattern was repeated with necklaces, then with bracelets. Finally, Ellen picked from her collection a very feminine watch for him.

As she had all week, Ellen coached him on how to move, how to speak, appropriate hand gestures, all the things that women do different than men. It had been difficult at first, but by now, many of the mannerisms were becoming second nature. In a way, that worried him, as he wondered how long it would take him to return to manhood. He still had an unknown amount of time living this way before they could go home.

They continued into the evening, breaking only for a fresh fruit and pretzel dinner. As Ellen was munching on her meal, the realization hit her that now not only did his freedom rest on his womanly deportment but hers did too. She was lost in thought and got really serious thinking the small details would be the ultimate decider between success and failure. Their earlier feminization lessons had only concentrated on acting womanlike enough to get out the front gate. She was going to have to kick his training to a whole new level. He would have to be able to impersonate a woman not briefly as they had previously thought, now he must pass under close scrutiny for who knows how long.

She came up with a detailed feminization plan. They worked on the way he reached for things, and the way he swept his hair back. Even on the way he looked at his watch and the how he held and sipped his drinks.

This went on for days. She coached him in feminine gestures, and hand positions and movements while talking, female body language, all very subtle, avoiding showing too much exaggeration like a theatrical drag queen. All the while, she had him practice his limited Spanish vocabulary in slow, soft and low intonations. Which wasn't exactly perfect, but much closer to true feminine inflections. They trained all day, only taking breaks to recharge their batteries by having passionate sex - woman on woman. Ellen began to relax a bit as she watched his mannerisms become more realistic and more instinctive. Most of the telltale signs that could give him away were nearly impossible to detect.

Once a day, Ellen would venture out, stopping by the front desk and lobby to read the English newspapers provided by the hotel. She developed a friendly nodding relationship with several of the English-speaking ladies. After searching for news about George's manhunt, she would stop by the business center to check on the clandestine email account she had established with George's sister. Alas there was no news.

After her internet visit, she would stop by the gift shop for snacks that constituted their daily meals. She eventually ventured off the resort grounds and found street vendors selling fresh fruit and flour tortillas, a customary Mexican food. That became their staple diet, not very nutritious but filling.

One day, disaster seemed about to strike as she walked in the lobby only to find a police officer showing George's picture to the desk clerks, asking if they had seen him. Luckily, it was his mug shot from when he was arrested and booked. She sighed quietly in relief when everyone assured the officer that no one resembling that picture was a guest at the resort.

As the two weeks were about to end, she sent an innocuous message to Beth asking if it was a good time for a visit. A discouraging reply came the next day, saying that it was too hot for a visit, recommending that she consider visiting next month. Ellen sought out the manager and negotiated an addition month's stay. Part of her argument was for a discount; they would forgo maid service. She would pick up fresh towels on a daily basis and bed linen weekly.

On the way out of the office, she overheard two of the employees gossiping that there were two gringa guests that hadn’t been seen using any of the hotel facilities. One hadn’t been seen outside of their room at all. Ellen should have realized living at a small resort was the equivalent to living in a small town. The staff’s favorite pastime was speculating on the guests. It was obvious they were starting to stand out. They had to do something different than hiding in their room. Heather's vocabulary had grown and he could now say a number of things all in a feminine lilt, even his accent was getting better. He just might be able to pass as a native woman. Ellen realized it was time they got out and about, somewhere Heather had to be seen to interact with people. Staring out at the deserted beach in front of the hotel, she knew where that was going to be. She was going to have to ease Heather into the idea of using this sun-drenched beach. Heather wasn’t going to like it.

CHAPTER 6 - What to Wear, Decisions, Decisions

Ellen knew what she had to do and she was sure that George was going to hate it. After the weeks of total immersion brainwashing George with the concept of blending in as a woman, now she had to change directions and let the world know there were two hot babes living in room 167. This worked out best for Ellen as she was going stir crazy and needed to get out. It was going to be tricky to convince Heather that it was to his benefit to stop hiding his light under a bushel and instead flaunt his femininity. This will take every trick she had in her basket of feminine wiles.

She stopped in the gift shop and bought two ladies bathing suits and carried them back to the room. Upon entering, the first thing Ellen did was create a makeup station in their room, in front of a large mirror. Then she drew back the drapes flooding the room in bright sunlight. While Heather watched in bewilderment. Ellen just told him to stay out of her way. Despite the fact people could see into their room by opening the drapes, it provided lots of good natural light for what Ellen wanted.

Ellen dragged her roommate over to the makeup station. She sat Heather down on the chair to have a talk. He was nervous and knew from her body language he wasn't going to like what she had to say. Ellen started by relaying her concerns about what she had heard from the hotel staff. Having laid the groundwork, she played her hand like a professional card shark. Saying if they didn’t do something the staff might go to the police. When he asked what she had in mind, her initial suggestion was that they be viewed by dozens of people getting some sun by the pool. They could order drinks so the staff would be involved in a closeup interaction. She pointed out the pool was the focal point of activity for hotel guests; thus, they would surely be seen. George turned pale and about had apoplexy as he sputtered like an outboard motor making it clear he was not up to that. Ellen was prepared and suggested an alternative plan. They could go out on the nearly empty beach and sun themselves for an afternoon. That suggestion was also met with a definite 'no'. She was just happy that Heather had not yelled it at her.

Ellen had come prepared for an argument and did not play entirely fair with her husband. She played her trump card and implied that, if he didn't agree to her plan, she was sure the staff would report that there was something strange going on at the motel to the police. If he was discovered and arrested, she would be charged as being an accomplice in his escape. Ellen shed a crocodile tear saying, "He had shown he had what it took to get by in jail. She didn’t have that stern a makeup and wouldn't survive prison. The last thing she wanted was their baby being born behind bars."

That had brought her an initial victory as George made it clear he was willing to go back to jail if necessary, but would do anything to keep his wife safe. If that meant embarrassing himself, so be it. Reluctantly, George gave in with the one stipulation; he did not want the suit to be outrageous.

Everything was going along smoothly until she held up the first of the swimsuits, she had purchased at the hotel gift shop. It was a cute, if skimpy, bikini that would certainly be flattering to any woman who had the nerve to wear it.

She held up a cobalt blue string bikini. It was actually just three small triangular pieces of nylon connected by elastic shards of cord. If the three bits of cloth were sown together it wouldn’t make a decent sized handkerchief.

George sat and starred in disbelieve. "But it's so small!" he whimpered.

Ellen smiled, "Of course. It's designed to give your boobs and buns plenty of sun time. After all that is one of the reasons women wear bikinis, you know the other but let’s not go there."

George snorted, "You've got to be kidding! You know that I can't wear a bikini. Even if little George was not noticeable, I can't have tan lines showing that I spent time in the sun in a bikini."

Ellen had to suppress a grin at that particular argument.

"Don't be a party pooper. Tan lines are the least of our worries. Heather needs to be seen. This will certainly ensure she is seen. I bet it will be rememberable enough no one will forget the experience. I know you aren't happy with the bikini, but this is a resort gift shop not a mall. My choices were rather limited."

George shook his head as if he could not believe that Ellen would even suggest something like that.

He tried to show a backbone and pronounced, "That thing is just not practical."

Pointing to his crotch, "Even if we solve this little problem what I have on my chest will look ridiculous in a bikini top. You keep forgetting I don't have any boobs, just tiny lumps."

Ellen smiled, "Dear, women with gigantic hooters look foolish or trashy in something like this. They aren't designed to support anything substantial. Dear, your female bosom is quite attractive. Don’t be ashamed of them. Girls with figures like yours are what the string bikini was designed for. We’ll just draw them taut over your limited assets. Trust me, you will look like a real beach bunny."

George was still skeptical, "You can say whatever you want, but there is no way I am wearing that in public. Your boob argument aside, there is no way I could get away with wearing the bikini bottom. It would put everything on display and it would be obvious that Heather is not of the female persuasion."

Poor naive George puffed up thinking he had won one for a change.

Ellen ignored George's argument for the moment and tried to get back to the main point by saying, "Honey, think of the big picture. There is no way anyone would associate your mug shot with a woman wearing a string bikini. If they see Heather strutting her stuff, they will not be thinking about George's pictures. They will be drooling over the hot girl with the cute figure."

George responded indignantly, "The last thing I want is someone ogling me, I thought our objective from the first was to blend in. Not stand out."

"George," Ellen pleaded. "If Heather is not seen outside even a little bit, the staff is going to wonder about her. If they start thinking about her too much, they may begin to connect her appearance with the pictures the police were showing around. The best thing to do is to hide in plain sight."

"I understand that logic, but that outfit puts a little too much of me in sight."

Ellen paused as if in thought and gave him a satisfied smile as she held up the string bikini, "I guess you are right that this is a bit too risqué?"

George began to swell with pride thinking he had won the debate. Then he thought something was fishy, Ellen never gave up a dispute that easily.

Not giving him time to think, Ellen smugly declared, "If you reject this suit, then I will wear it. So, it's your choice. What's it to be; you or me?"

It took his breath away; the string bikini was merely three tiny triangles. He wouldn't be caught dead wearing it but, on the other hand, his wife wearing it would attract all sorts of attention. He wasn't ready to share her body with the world.

He frowned as he said, "On you, it would drive any man wild. I would be jealous as hell watching guys eyeballing you in that."

An infectious grin stayed on her face as she retorted, "So what is it honey, you or me?"

The bottom had just dropped out of his world, "Come on Ellen I can’t make a choice like that."

They both knew that it was more a matter that George did not want to make that decision.

George stood his ground. "I just can't wear that! Isn’t there another more conservative option?"

"Well maybe you are right. I guess I will have to wear it." Ellen's tone was purposely pitched to sound resigned to her fate. The truth was that she would be quite happy wearing it, even though her breasts would stand out much more under those tiny triangles which would almost cover her areolas.

The look on George's face conveyed what he thought about someone lusting after Heather’s ass and chest. He was lost for words.

Ellen gave an elaborate shrug. She really wanted to see Heather in the string bikini, but she knew that she could not force the issue, it was a decision he would have to make on his own.

"So, who is it to be you or me? Fish or cut bait. We are burning sun."

He couldn’t bring himself to say it so he pointed at Ellen. "Now that's settled, we still need to decide what to do about you. You can't go out there in just swim trunks." Ellen stated. "You’re too top heavy for that right now."

"I know," George snapped. "I can't wear just trunks like a guy my boobs may be small but they are still noticeable. Yet I can't wear a bikini because of my boy parts." George thought that the matter was closed and that he was safe.

"I do have a solution though," Ellen gleefully replied, "This will let you go out and not look out of place."

"Okay, that sounds good," George stated. Ellen kept the smile off her face as she held up a one-piece swimsuit from the bag on the bed. It was a vivid paisley print suit in a backless woman's one-piece body shaping style, with a low-cut plunging neckline. Ellen apologized saying, "It was the only one piece in the shop. Here try it on, let's see if it fits." He was hardly happy with the paisley pattern, but the one-piece style would do a lot to preserve George's modesty.

She could see that George regarded this swimsuit with as much abhorrence as the bikini and that he was preparing to decline this option as well.

She spoke up to override his expected rejection. "It's this or you go topless. You only have to go out for a little while Heather just long enough to be seen by the resort staff," she said in a reassuring manner.

She really wanted to see him in a bikini, because just the thought of it got her newly discovered lesbian juices flowing. "I guarantee that you will not look out of place in it. We will just tell anyone who asks that you are embarrassed to show too much skin but that you wanted to enjoy some of the Mexican sun."

George really did not want to be seen in public as a girl or woman any more than he had to, but Ellen's report that the police were starting to look in this area as well as in the north near the border meant that they could be in danger of discovery. Ellen handed him the suit and taunted, "Stop stalling and Heather up. Try this on." Grudgingly, he took the suit from Ellen and went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Behind the closed door, George grabbed the suit and pulled it up and tucked his little friend between his legs hoping that the suit would hold him there. He put his arms through the top straps. It was immediately apparent this wasn't going to work. It was blatantly obvious it wasn't suitable because it was several sizes too large for his emaciated body. It was clearly intended for a full-figured tourist. Heather didn't have enough on top to make a realistic impression. It was too baggy around the middle. More importantly it wasn't tight enough in the crotch to hold his male parts back.

As he exited the bathroom, he felt mortified. Ellen couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, dear me that will never work. Come over here and let me check the size."

Examining the size tag, she admitted, "No wonder it doesn't fit it's a size 14 and you are probably a 10 at most, more likely an 8. I didn’t look at the label, I was hoping since it was elastic it would fit. You stay here while I go exchange it for something more suitable."

On the way to the gift shop Ellen had to think fast. First off, she was delighted to be the one wearing the bikini. It was the sexist beachwear she had ever seen. She was sure it would be outlawed in the states. She said to herself, 'The top triangles will almost cover her nipples, it will drive George nuts. Wearing that, I will be sexier than if I was nude. I knew the only way George would ever let me wear this was by offering it first to him. I love it when a plan comes together.'

Ellen browsed through the selections in the gift shop. Eventually she found something that would work and it had her doing mental cartwheels of joy.

The suit was a black mesh high neck bikini top. She had already decided Heather was going to need to wear his breast forms and this would successfully hide the edges on the forms and was substantial enough to hold his fax breasts in place. It also came with an elastic low-rise bottom that promised to lift and separate the wearer's buns. It was tight enough to hold his masculine bulge in place. Together, the two pieces would accentuate Heather's best features; leaving her slim waist fully exposed while drawing attention to her tight buns and long legs.

Always a creative person, at the checkout counter, she noticed some impulse items that would complete Heather's transformation, a bottle of super glue and a tube of trail mix.

@ @ @ @

She paid for her purchases and skipped back to their room to show Heather what he would be wearing to the beach that afternoon.

Once in the room she cut both ends of the plastic tube holding the trail mix and emptied the contents into a bowl. It took some persuasion and a little arm twisting but she finally got George to lie back on the bed and spread his legs. She slid the empty plastic granola bag over his penis. Pushing his balls up into their cavities, she then pulled his penis back toward the rear. The super glue fastened the bag to the under sides of his ass cheeks and she used the skin of his empty ball sack to form realistic labia lips. She was gratified to see he had what appeared to be a very believable Venus mound complete with realistic looking pussy lips. She smiled to herself, as there were no dangly bits to spoil the look. He will be using his man thing only to go wee-wee until he is released.

George was speechless. He couldn’t believe the things he let Ellen do to him. This was a low as it could go. He hoped. Now he even looked like a girl between my legs! He had what appeared to be a slit where a penis belongs!

Ellen closely examined her handiwork. Granted, it couldn't hold up to a close examination, but without physically probing his crotch, no one could tell otherwise. It visually looked authentic exactly like a female sexual organ, externally at least. She imagined a man probing Heathers crotch. If the hand just skimmed the surface Heathers secret would be safe.

George pondered, ‘How am I gonna pee?’

After a bit of exploring, he sighed in relief as he had initially thought that she had "sealed him up". He could feel that enough of the slit was open near the bottom to piss out of. He could feel the head of his penis nestled just inside. While he was concerned about this Ellen retrieved the realistic breast forms from her suit case and was about to glue them firmly on his chest. Needless to say, George objected stridently. Ellen held him on the bed and explained something he hadn’t thought about. "The staff had seen a well-developed Heather at check in. Having her show up with teeny tits would only open Pandora's Box of questions. This is the only way to keep your cover."

Before he had a chance to complain further. She glued them in place. Once the glue had set, he got a better look at the latex prosthetics glued onto him, it was amazing how lifelike they actually looked. He was certain that when they were stuffed in a bra they would act like the real thing. Now glued to his chest they looked totally realistic. The latex was skin colored and unless you looked closely you couldn’t tell where his skin ended and the latex started. Reaching up he held them, they sure felt like the real thing that scared him even more. She had him stand and walk to ensure the glue would hold. When he walked the breast, forms seemed to have a mind of their own as they bobbed and swayed wildly with each step. Which George found to be wildly disturbing. If he was a man watching Heather walk, he would be excited.

George stood with his heart beating furiously. He put up a fuss at the concept that he was going out in public with what were in his eyes attributes that their primary purpose was to attract male attention.

"Get used to them ducky, for the foreseeable future you’ve got tits. They won’t be coming off any time soon. They are waterproof and one with your skin. Externally, it would take a doctor to realize that you aren’t a genetic female."

George collapsed onto the bed and began to sob uncontrollably. Ellen didn’t anticipate his emotional melt down, she waited to see what he was going to do. His sobs and sniffling punctuate the silence between them. He finally composed himself enough to ask, "How long will I be stuck with these abominations?"

Ellen calmed his objections by explaining, "First off they are not abominations, they make you look authentic. Get accustomed to them as they aren’t going anywhere soon."

Ellen calmed his objections somewhat by explaining, "Without a solvent, from what I have read they should last until you shed a layer of skin. It will be between ten to twelve days!"

She was disappointed when he bashfully went into the bathroom to change in private. Ellen would have preferred to have George change in the room with her watching him strip down and pull on the suit. It was an erotic image in her mind. She realized that the best sex organ in the body was the mind. Wisely, she knew that pushing him too far would probably keep her from getting him into the suit and on to the beach.

George remained in the bathroom for over half an hour, but he replied that he was fine when Ellen asked if he needed any help. While he was in there, Ellen quickly got herself ready. Her bikini fitted like a dream. She admired herself in the mirror, telling herself that she could probably give those SI swimsuit models a run for their money. After a touch of makeup, she put her hair into the ever present scrunchie. She sat and impatiently waited for Heather's emergence, occasionally encouraging him to hurry up.

Heather finally stuck just his head out of the bathroom, afraid to make his grand appearance. He saw his wife in that incredibly sexy bikini. He took one look at his wife in her suit and he was in lust. To say she looked radiant would be an understatement.

"Sweetheart, I haven't seen you looking this good since our wedding day."

Ellen smiled at him. "I know. My Navy Seal, Derrick has been working me out endlessly. He's a hard task master. Some days, after our aerobics, I have trouble making it to the shower."

Heather's eyes narrowed. "You seem to be spending a lot of time with Derrick"

Ellen nodded. "Now that you mention it, I do see a lot of him. Aside from our daily rendezvous at the gym. He stops by the office a couple times a week and takes us out to lunch."

"That sounds a lot like a date."

"Don't be silly, we’re just workout partners. He has taken me out for a drink a couple of times but it was nothing more than two friends having a social drink together. We eat together because as he puts it, he has become my consigliere. As such, he wants me to watch what I eat and drink."

"Is it just the two of you?"

"Not always, depending on our workload, Nancy tags along. Now if the inquisition is over, get your ass out here."

He opened the door all the way and stepped out of the bathroom. He stood there in the tiny bathing suit feeling totally exposed and humiliated. He couldn't even look Ellen in the eyes. His vision dropped to the floor. He humbly stared down, and was shocked that his view to his feet was block by the twin mounds on his chest that were pushed out obscenely by his bikini top.

Ellen wasn’t prepared for what she saw standing there, "Holy shit!" she exclaimed.

Her voice startled him. Ellen clapped her hands and gave a wolf whistle which brought George up short.

"Honey, you look simply fabulous." George allowed himself a derisive snort. Which Ellen diplomatically ignored as she ordered, "Turn around and let me see how your look from the rear."

George felt like he was a wounded gazelle about to be devoured by a hungry lion. With his back to Ellen, she tightened the straps on his top, they were so snug his fax nipples tented out the mesh top. Then she hiked up his shorts. George found himself in a tiny thong with a triangle of material of nylon that barely covered his genitals. To make it worse, a thin cord was drawn up between the plump globes of his ass and rubbed disturbingly on his back door.

Ellen knelt on the floor to get a better perspective of his genitals. George looked down at her and joked, "If Mr. Happy gets any smaller, we'll have to start calling it Ms. Happy."

Ellen was relieved he still had a sense of humor. Leaning back a few inches she was rewarded by a view of what appeared to be a very believable mons Venus. There was nothing androgynous about his look now, he was all girl. She told him, "Dear you look incredible, a total man magnet."

"I don’t care what I look like. My sexual orientation will never change."

Ellen laughed, "That’s good to hear I can trust you in a men’s room, but I will insist on escorting you every time you visit the girl’s room."

Heather quipped back, "Isn’t that why woman always go in pairs."

He did not know it, but tonight Heather, not George, was going to be ravaged something fierce, by Ellen.

Trying to convey confidence Ellen smiled at her husband and said, "Ducky, I know you are worried. But in my opinion, this is needed to protect us from detection. Just trust me on this one."

He took a seat on the bed to wait and subconsciously crossed his legs at the knees. He found that funnily enough, now that his 'bits' were safely tucked away, it wasn't so uncomfortable for him to sit in this female fashion.

Satisfied with the way his suit fit, she went to work on his face. She plucked and trimmed his eyebrows some more to arch them. Then she added a touch of eyeshadow and mascara and a coating of lipstick which was enough for a day at the beach. She started to put his wig on but realized it was too hot for that. She parted his longish hair in the middle and gave him a pretty set of bangs. She wished she had a curling iron, but alas that wasn’t to be at the moment.

She left him standing in front of the mirror while she gathered the things they would need for the beach. He just stood waiting, his emotions all addled. Unsure of where this was all going to lead.

Satisfied, Ellen realized they were two beach bunnies, she was a 10. While sadly, her husband’s total package was only a ‘5’ at best.

Ellen clapped; she was so excited. "Well ready or not it is time for your big reveal!"

Grabbing two towels, she pushed him out the door toward the white sand beach. George grabbed Ellen's arm as a lifeline. Twenty yards from the surf she spread the towels out and they lay side by side enjoying the sunshine.

Twenty minutes into their tanning session, Ellen had to remind Heather to occasionally rotate sides so he didn’t get sunburn. He found lying on his stomach was uncomfortable, so he spent the majority of his time on his back or his side.

After about an hour, two boisterous American men came out carrying a cooler of what was obviously beer. They put their stuff down within yards of Ellen. The first thing they did was introduce themselves as Bill and Mike. Then Bill, the apparent ring leader, offered Ellen and Heather one of their beers. Heather turned her head away while Ellen answered for both of them and politely said, "No thank you."

The fellows obviously had been drinking and wouldn’t take no for an answer, "Come on babe, don't give me any attitude. I'm just trying to be friendly. There are two of us good looking guys and two pieces of tail. It seems we have the makings for a real party. We’ll show you girls a good time if you give us a chance."

Ellen answered with a glare and turned away from him.

The two jerks took the hint and sat down 10 feet away and attacked their stockpile of beer with gusto. After they finished their bottles, they picked up a frisbee and tossed it around. They were loud and annoying but kept to themselves. At least until the disk was thrown toward a sleeping Heather.

Mike came flying over trying to make the catch. He slid next to Heather, showering her in sand and missing the frisbee that hit Heather a glancing blow in the forehead. He staggered to his feet, and stood over a startled Heather. He grinned insanely and said, "Sorry about that tootsie, no harm no foul. Let me clean you up."

Then with a mischievous smile he bent over and with his hand lightly rubbed it back and forth on her breasts, abstemiously to brush the sand off Heather's chest. Heather did not react immediately at first because he failed to feel the invaders molesting his silicon chest. When he noticed what was going on, he was reluctant to say anything so he merely slapped his hand away.

Ellen yelled, "Get your hands off her!"

"What's your problem lady? I didn't hear her complain."

"Just get away from us!" ordered Ellen

"You two dykes enjoy yourselves. You’ll never know what you’re missing."

He picked up his frisbee and walked toward the surf where his grinning friend was waiting. They continued their game of catch.

Heather still covered in sand rolled to her side and whispered to Ellen. "I'm going to get washed off. I'll be right back."

Heather stood and brushed off what she could and walked toward the water, taking a path well to the right of the twin idiots. She was a good 10 yards to Mike's rear when Bill sent the frisbee sailing right for her. Just as Heather reached the surf line Mike came charging at her and bowled her over knocking her into the waist deep water. George was stunned from the collision and lay in waist deep water the waves washing over him. Then he felt a hand slide under his ass and it was used to lift him to his feet. George let out an involuntary girly shriek when the hand didn't leave rather it started probing between his legs.

Ellen came running. When she got to the two, Heather was struggling to free herself from Mike. The macho jerk watched Ellen's approach with amusement and wrapped both arms tightly around the uglier of the two bimbos and lifted her up. Feet off the ground she was flailing wildly trying to escape.

CHAPTER 7 - Don’t ever poke a mother bear

Ellen reached for Mike's right hand and got a firm grip on his thumb and bent it back far enough to hear it break. Mike released Heather and let put a howl like a wounded animal. Bill came charging to his friend's aid. Ellen pivoted on her left leg and landed a solid one-legged kick to his beer belly. Bill folded like a cheap lawn chair.

Ellen turned to check on Heather. With her back to him, Mike came up behind her and engulfed her in a bear hug with the intention of squeezing the breath out of Ellen. That plan failed when Ellen whipped her head straight back to strike Mike's face breaking his nose. Ellen took Heather's hand and the two bikini clad ladies strolled toward their towels with as much rapidity as was possible without actually running. They gathered their belongings and walked toward their room.

George felt emasculated watching his wife dispatch the two mashers without breaking a sweat. He was shaking like a leaf and exclaimed, "My God! I didn't realize I was married to Wonder Woman."

Then he felt compelled to ask, "Where did you learn that?"

Ellen was doing her best to keep from shaking herself and tried to make light of the confrontation. "Oh, it was nothing. Derrick has been giving me self-defense lessons ever since he learned I was coming to Mexico by myself."

George gathered his wits about him and calmed down. "Derrick again, just how long has he been in your life?"

Ellen shrugged. "I believe it's about 8 or 9 months. I started going to the gym right after you were incarcerated. He volunteered to be my personal trainer. We get together three to four times a week in the gym and once or twice a week in social settings."

"It seems you have spent a lot of time with him."

"As a matter of fact, I have been seeing a lot of him. He has been a real comfort with you being gone. He has even taken an interest in what I eat, ever since I found out I was pregnant. He has me on a very strict diet."

"So, you told him about the baby? Before telling me!"

"Of course, he had a right to know considering our special relationship."

George stopped dead in his tracks, he glared at his wife and demanded an explanation, "What do you mean by special relationship?"

Ellen wasn't naïve and could see the jealously on her husband's face. "Relax honey. He comes around because Nancy has the hots for him. We are just very good friends. As my trainer, he needed to know my condition so he wouldn't have me do anything to endanger the baby."

George let out a sigh of relief then started counting back seven months. He then said something he immediately regretted. "You're sure it's OUR baby? To me the math doesn’t work out."

Ellen turned on him her eyes ablaze with fury. "How dare you say something like that!" Count again I believe it happened around the time of my first conjugal visit.

Heather became emotional he sniffled back tears that threatened to run down his face Ellen reached for a towel and wiped his eyes and said, "The hormones must be getting to you. You are starting to get emotional like a female. How long have you been having these emotional swings?"

"Not long, a few months. I seem to cry at the littlest things."

Ellen embraced her husband and uttered, "I guess I am going to have to adjust to that. There is something going on, we need to find out what before you reach a point of no return."

All Heather could do was to nod his head in agreement.

@ @ @ @

Heather was uncomfortable with where this was going. He decided to change the subject and said, "Let's go inside, it's getting hot here in the sun."

Ellen pulled Heather to the side and whispered at a level only audible to Heather, "Not half as hot as it is going to get."

Coming in from the beach George decided to shower. He stripped off the bikini that made him feel as though he had a permanent wedgie and threw it into the sink to be washed later. He got in and let the cool water run over him. He was soaping himself up, when suddenly he felt Ellen's arms around him.

She reached around him and turned the hot water off and the cold all the way on. She directed the spray at his crotch.

The frigid water hit him like a bolt of electricity. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?" He quasi-protested.

"You tell me," she said, nibbling on his neck. "I just wanted to make sure you were getting all the nasty sand off."

"Thank you for your concern," he said, turning to face her. He took the soap in his hand soaped her chest. "It's only fair that I do the same."

With one hand on his faux breast and one cradling his testicles. She massaged his developing boob and jokingly said, "Say you're kinda busty for a fella."

Unabashedly, he loved this feeling very much and wanted more, but his masculine pride wouldn't let him acknowledge it. He pasted an angry expression on his face.

Ellen rejected his mild protest for what it was, merely a face-saving gesture.

"Don't look sad I really like you this way." She moved her attentions further south and soaped the sensitive tip of his genitals that protruded from the plastic with care and attention. Something he truly loved as it felt so sexy; but disappointedly only a little happened, it got plump in its encased plastic but not hard.

The mutual cleaning went on until both were rather excited. Ellen decided enough was enough, "Stop," she said. "Let's take this to the bed and do it right."

She turned off the water, opened the door and scooped his body up. She was really big into this. It made him feel strange, yet it felt good. He liked the feeling of powerlessness. But, still, it was kind of unusual. As she made her way to the bedroom, George pulled Ellen's head down to his face and kissed her on the mouth.

Breaking the kiss, Ellen proclaimed, "Dear, you really are becoming anorexic you are nothing but skin and bone. We need to get a decent meal or two into you. Eating nothing but junk food and my love juices is not a balanced diet." She held him in the air poised over the bed.

Heather could only laugh as he said, "Put me down, you oaf!"

"No, Mademoiselle, I won't." Ellen said coyly while holding him suspended over the bed.

He started mock-pounding her with his fists.

"Assaulting me, you are in such trouble," Ellen said as she dropped Heather onto the bed and ordered. "Heather, assume your proper position on your back and prepare yourself for some strenuous cardiovascular exercise."

In his Heather voice, he said flirtatiously, "If you say so. Jane will mind her big strong Tarzan."

As Ellen thumped her chest in a simulated jungle yell, "You better believe it girl. You're at my mercy. Resistance will be dealt with harshly."

He complied and rolled off his side to his back.

"Before we start can't we take these mountains of flab off my chest?"

"Sorry no can do. I still don't have fingernail polish remover to get them off."

"Well how about freeing willy?"

Ellen gave that some serious thought then said, "I like it just the way it is. Your head sticks out enough I can get to the sensitive parts. Let's leave it on for tonight. Just appreciate the fact you have a lesbian nymphomaniac in bed with you."

Ellen leered down at her waiting husband and said, "Are you ready, bitch?"

‘Bitch?’ George wondered where that came from.

Ellen went to her purse and got her perfume; she squirted several plumes over the bed and let it settle over her hubby. She stood next to the bed her legs spread and hands on her hips. Maintaining eye contact, she addressed her prostrate husband, "I can see with all that you have gone through today you are about to have an emotional meltdown. There is no way I can let that happen. You need to hold it together for us to get back home. We need to discharge the pressure building up in you. That means tonight you will make no decisions. I am totally in charge; your only responsibilities tonight are to do exactly as you are told. No improvising. Am I clear on that?"

George got up on his elbows. Ellen slapped his face. It was not a hard slap, but it told him that she was in command. Then she firmly pushed him back flat, "Has prison made you addlebrained, just what didn’t you understand about doing nothing without being told?"

She climbed on to the bed and straddled his torso. She looked down at George’s face and detected a trace of confusion.

First, she dictated that George put his talented mouth to work and tease her thighs with butterfly kisses. She slowly inched forward until his tongue and lips were within sticking distance of her sex organs. From the first time he had proved to be very good at oral sex. Tonight, she was determined to improve his technique. Without worry of damaging his fragile male ego, she provided instant feedback on everything he did. In the past, she had always relied on her partner’s expertise in love making. Now, for the first time, she took control over her own pleasure. She found just being in charge was an aphrodisiac in itself, if she wanted a tongue to rub with heavier or lighter pressure, she got what she wanted. George was magnificent. He accepted her criticisms for what they were; a training session. By morning, he had learned exactly what was required to bring Ellen her greatest pleasure.

By the time the sun rose, Ellen was willing to grant him the title of a virtuoso pussy licker.

@ @ @ @

Dawn found both exhausted, their hairs were mussed beyond any recognizable style. Ellen watched as Heather’s eyes slowly opened. She lovingly asked, "Well, did you enjoy last night?"

His only response was a beguiling smile, and a sparkle in his eyes! That communicated better than a thousand words.

She could smell the sweet scent of her lingering perfume on him.

The experience had been as unique for her as it had been for him. Maybe it was because of the weird circumstances? Maybe it was because he'd been so nervous? She didn't know why but it had been wonderful for her. How many times did she orgasm? She'd lost count. The only thing she did know was that she wanted to experiment more with this person she was coming to know as Heather.

The two lovers shared a breakfast of fresh fruit that they picked at with their fingers. Ellen went to the bathroom to wash her hands and while in there took the opportunity to gather up their bikinis that had been hung over the shower rod to dry. She started a bath, poured in scented bath salts and bubble bath and brought the suits back into the room. She had a spring to her step. George’s reaction on seeing what Ellen had in her hands, showed he wasn’t happy.

"Oh no not again!"

Ellen tried to reassure him, "Relax dear, no more beach, I’ve got something better planned. Today we’re going to sunbathe around the pool. We’ll be less likely to be hassled."

George wasn’t reassured. His first emergence as Bikini Heather hadn’t gone so well. He wondered would today be any better.

Ellen wasn’t interested in his concerns; she had her own plans. She addressed him, "Since we spent a lot of our cash reserves on these suits, we are going to get our money’s worth. Being that close to the hotel in these suits we will be sure to be noticed."

George had to ask, "After yesterday do you think those guys have reported being assaulted?"

"Not likely, I can’t see two rugged he-men report being beat up by a mere girl in a bikini. If I had to bet, they are half way to the U.S. border by now. Don’t worry about them."

She pointed to the bathroom where a bath was filling. "Now young lady march in there and bathe!" With his emotions, all a flutter George covered the 13 steps to the bathroom and felt like a man on the way to the gallows.

He climbed into the bathtub and slowly lowered himself up to his neck in the hot water overflowing in bubbles. He relaxed and resigned himself to his fate.

The luxuriating soak in the delightfully fragrant bath did its intended purpose and he emerged feeling relaxed and, due to the perfumed lavender bath oils, smelled as effeminate as he ever had. Ellen came in and had him stand for an examination. With a razor, she removed the few extraneous body hairs she found. Ellen covered his skin with a sweet-smelling after-bath lotion. George was surprised at how sensuous it felt have his loving wife run her hand over his skin.

Ellen knelt on the floor and with her hands tapped the inside of his legs, "Now honey, spread those long legs and let me check on your plastic tube to see if we can reuse it." A cursory examination showed the superglue held the cellophane in place. A more detailed inspection determined it was still functional for what they needed.

With Ellen’s assistance Heather put on his bikini bottom. Once tightly tied, it held his marbles up in their man cave and his penis out of sight, his crotch definitely looked female, lip contour and all.

Ellen drew herself close to Heather’s face and stared at him. She looked at him like he wasn't there; sort of like an empty canvas. "I have to adjust your eyebrows just a tad, honey. Nobody will notice when you switch back to your normal gender. But they need to be cleaned-up and a little arch added. Is that O.K.?" she asked.

He nodded yes. She went to work and in no time declared him ready. "You know, you make a passable woman. Not the prettiest. However, your magnificent figure compensates for your lack of classical beauty, this just might work."

"What do you mean MIGHT?"

"Relax honey it is just an expression. Don’t read too much into it."

Proceeding to the next step, Ellen sat George down for a makeover seeing as how they would be near the hotel and under closer scrutiny, she would go a bit more dramatic than yesterday. George felt exposed sitting there with his boobs dangling from his chest. The glue showed no signs of weakening. He was actually looking forward to the wearing the bikini top as it provided some support and cover.

Looking at his reflection he uttered, "Isn't that a bit heavy for daytime?" He enquired nervously.

"Well yes, ordinarily I would do something simpler for daytime and certainly use much less for merely going to the pool. But remember this isn't 'ordinary'; you want to make a statement. Therefore, I think the 'femme fatale' look is appropriate on this occasion. "

Twenty minutes later, George had vanished to be replaced by a convincing Heather. A girl that would be right at home at Daytona Beach during spring break.

Next came his bikini top. Ellen tied his top on and was satisfied with the finished product. She told Heather to relax and unwind while she got ready. Watching her husband lounging around the room in that sexy outfit had Ellen excited in a different way. She had never considered herself to be gay. However, her current feelings firmly planted the seeds of confusion. She knew she was stimulated by men, but with her excitement over Heather she wondered if this was the beginning of her developing bi-sexual tendencies. She knew she didn’t want to be a total lesbian., may be life as a part time one would work for her.

Ellen put her suit on and determined it was time for the two of them to head to the resort pool.

They each slipped on flip flops. She handed Heather a towel along with a pair of sunglasses and a large floppy hat. They moseyed on down to the resort’s pool without encountering anyone, the pool area was deserted and sun drenched. Ellen spread their towels on two lounge chairs for a morning of sunbathing and waited for Heather to catch up. Ellen tracked his movements with her eyes as he walked to her side and laid down. After about a half hour, Ellen got up to make her morning rounds, leaving Heather by himself poolside.

To Heather, it seemed Ellen was gone for a prolonged time. Still exhausted from last night’s bedroom gymnastics, it wasn’t long before Heather became drowsy. The soft ocean breezes, the sound of waves breaking on the shore, and titillating smell of the salt air were therapeutic. Before she knew it, she had dosed off in the warm sun.

In a dream state, Heather had the euphoric feeling she was flying. The aqua water slipped below her. The sun felt like a warm brush of silk across her face, legs and tummy. The breeze made her skin electric. It smelled of the sea and had the tang of salt. She breathed in the air in great gulps and detected other scents, that didn’t belong to the sea; chlorine from the pool, rose petals from the gardens around the resort and the lingering perfume from her bath. All in all, a very pleasant aroma.

In her dream Heather could see her shadow skimming the ocean beneath her. A pod of dolphins rocked through the waves. Hurling themselves out of the water in graceful, desperate leaps to join her soaring above the whitecaps.

Then a gnawing discomfort imposed itself. Her soaring was suddenly not so effortless. The dolphins were getting closer with each leap. They were no longer so peaceful; she could see their teeth were bared. Their faces were morphing into faces; one resembled Ellen’s two others were the guys from yesterday. Heather wanted to stop now. The sun’s warmth now felt more like a rasp on her skin as the sun burned it to a rosy red. Perspiration poured out of her as if she had been swimming. She was naked, she didn’t have to see it, she felt it. Heather willed herself awake, just as the dolphins threaten to nip at the fleshy parts of her nude body.

Memories of yesterday’s attack brought tears to her Heather. They raced down her cheeks from the corners of her eyes. She pleaded for her eyes to open. Her lids felt heavy and not just from the mascara. She willed them open with all her might. First there was just a flutter. With a great deal of effort her eyes finally opened, unfocused but open. Looking around Heather noticed Ellen’s lounge chair was still empty. With his heart racing, he wondered if his nightmare wasn’t a precursor of things to come.

Becoming fully wake he scanned the area outside the immediate poolside and noticed two policemen roaming the grounds and headed his way. George decided it was safer to stay out of sight so rather than wait there for Ellen he gathered their things and headed back to their room.

Once inside he found it cool and empty. George just relaxed.

CHAPTER 8 - A double date

Once safely secreted in their room, George could not wait to strip off his suit and free his little man, discarding the cellophane between his legs. He nibbled on what was left of their fruit and eventually pulled the shades and crawled into bed and fell into a troubled sleep.

Ellen looked for Heather at the pool. Not finding him there, she headed for the only other place he could be their room. Quietly opening the door, she marched over to George. Shaking him, she woke him up with an impish smile.

Once his eyes were open, she demanded that he hand over his wedding band. A still drowsy George was in a confused stupor and he slipped the ring off his finger and handed it to Ellen who promised to explain later. She suggested that George return to his nap, implying that it was going to be a late night. She checked her makeup and gaily skipped out the door, leaving a bewildered George behind in the dark. With nothing better to do, he went back to sleep.

@ @ @ @

Several hours later, George woke with a jolt as Ellen stormed into the room burdened with two armfuls of packages. Dropping them on the floor, she sat on the bed and told George to get up.

"What’s going on El?" he yawned.

Not waiting for an answer, he pointed at the packages and questioned, "Where did the money come from for all this?"

"I’ll get to that. We have a lot to discuss," she said as she got up and took a seat across from her husband. "Well," she went on with quiet enthusiasm, "I was at the business center, I sent an email to your sister to see if it was alright to come home, tomorrow we can expect a reply. I passed through the bar on the way back to the pool and I met this guy who was really friendly and insisted on buying me a drink."

George was immediately suspicious and commented, "With you in that bikini, a man would have to be blind not to be friendly."

She favored him with a loving smirk and replied, "Don’t be a jerk, let me tell you about him. He is a businessman down here on his yacht for a fishing vacation. He is tall, and you could really tell that he works out. He has dreamy grey eyes, a strong face, and large hands. And you know what large hands mean?" She gave him a smile and a knowing nod.

She got a dreamy look on her face and chuckled throatily, "He bought me a drink and found us one of those little intimate booths along the wall. The music wasn't loud and the bar was nearly empty, so we were able to talk. He was wearing a short-sleeve shirt and those muscular arms of his looked like they would burst the seams. I mean, not powerlifter arms. Just the kind you'd love to run your hands over.

"I'll tell you, girlfriend, he was trying to work me right from the start. He was so classy and subtle that it wasn't just like some regular guy trying to get into my panties. I mean, any red-blooded woman would want him to get there, but he was so nice. He invited me to have drinks and dinner. I told him I was here with my girlfriend. I described you and he said he had a fishing buddy with him and he was sure he would love to meet you."

"He invited us both out. We’ll have a rral dinner isn’t that exciting?" Ellen was talking quickly, which she only did when she got excited.

"Umm..well…I don't know?" George sputtered. "You can’t be serious!"

"Of course, I am! First off, I'm tired of eating nothing but junk food, it isn’t healthy for our baby! If we play our cards right, we can get a five-star meal on their dime. If it makes you feel better think of it as us going on a double date."

George still in shock said, "So it won’t cost us anything?"

Ellen grinned, "I didn’t say that exactly. Whenever a man spends money on a girl there is an expectation of….well. I don’t have to spell it out for you."

The smile on her face faded as she became serious.

"People around here are starting to talk about the two girls doing nothing but holding up in their room. This is a resort, if we want to blend in, we need to do the things two single woman would do at a beach resort. One of those is to let men wine and dine them, so that is exactly what we are going to do."

George was close to tears now, with a fear that consumed him. "But my voice will give me away. I can say a few things but no way can I carry on a conversation."

Ellen placed a hand on his knee in a patronizing way to calm him.

"I’ve thought about that; these guys are Americans. With your swarthy complexion, you could certainly pass for being Hispanic. I’ll tell them that you don’t speak English. If by some chance they speak Spanish, we’ll stick with our story that you are a Cherokee and only speak pigeon Spanish. We've worked on a few words of Spanish you can say with a girly voice, just stick to them and you’ll get by."

Trying to think up any reason not to go. The best he could come up with was, "I don’t know how to act as a woman on a date."

"Oh, come on you have been on lots of dates before."

"I wouldn’t say a lot. When I did date, it was as a kid, I doubt a woman acts the same way a high school or college girl acted."

Ellen totally dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand, "I will be your mentor. Just watch me and do as I do."

Pointing to the pile of bags on the floor she said, "If you’re wondering where all that came from, I’m sorry to tell you but I sold our wedding bands to pay for the stuff we need for tonight."

She could see the sorrowful look on George’s face. "Honey, they are only things, lumps of gold. Jewelry can always be replaced. Now let’s get started we have a lot to do."

George was sent off for a quick refreshing shower. Ellen took the opportunity to work on the wig that had been tossed aside.

After drying, blushing furiously he stepped into a red silk thong Ellen handed him. He arranged and tucked himself in for concealment. To his astonishment, it proved strong enough to hold his man marbles up out of the way and his pee-pee under control.

He moved nervously into the room.

Aiming an over exaggerated wink at her husband, Ellen held out his dress for him to step into. George got a quick peek at the price tag and paled and stood frozen like a statue.

Seeing his reaction, Ellen tittered, "Don’t worry about the cost. I left the price tag on, so as long as you don’t spill or drool something on it, I can return it in the morning. That’s a trick all of us girls learn early in life."

George looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Before stepping into the dress, he realized something was missing. "Where’s the rest of my underwear?" asked a bewildered Heather.

Ellen replied in a confident tone, "Don’t be silly, the climate is too hot and humid for those things. Women around here don’t wear nylons or bras and I bet no panties either. I was tempted but since you need something to control your secret. You can’t let everything hang loose between your legs tonight. But that doesn’t preclude letting your breasts just hanging out. Besides it will be sexier that way with our girls bobbling all over the place. You should know better than most, guys love that sort of thing."

"Okay," George replied halfheartedly, reconciled to his fate. He didn't want to think about guys ogling his assets at close range, but he trusted Ellen.

She told him to stop stalling and step into his dress she had selected for his first date. She pulled the red spandex form-fitting dress up and zipped it close. The tight-fitting bodice really emphasized his slim waist and prominent bust, while the short skirt brought attention his long womanly looking legs. He looked divine in it, Ellen knew it was the right outfit for his first date. He would be so busy fighting off his date she would be free to explore her options.

George caught just a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He actually, rolled his eyes in an ‘I don't believe this’ expression.

He turned to Ellen who was sorting a pile of cosmetics, "Excuse me dear, I'm new at all this girly stuff but isn’t this too small? It’s skin tight." George had never worn a corset but thought this is what it must feel like. The dress was keeping him from taking a deep breath.

"Nonsense. That is how it is designed. It hugs your figure in all the right places. It accentuates your best assets; the firm plumpness of your derrière, your slim waist, and thanks to the magic of modern science your magnificent fun bags. The guys will love it. The tight thigh length dress will help you keep your knees together."

She had laid out a smorgasbord of makeup and spent the next twenty minutes using them on his face. She started on his eyes going for a smoky eye look believing it would add a bit of sophisticated drama to his face. She lined the upper and lower lashes and diffused the color with a fluffy eye-shadow brush and cotton swabs until the shade turned into a very subtle gray that went up to the crease. She curled the lashes and coated the outer corners with mascara, while a dusting of powder set everything and ensured the makeup stayed ladylike.

The end result was far better than she had hoped for. A little rouge on the cheeks and then she turned her attention to Heather’s lips. They were puffy from an evening of lesbian love making. He scowled at wife who ignored it and kept up a professional demeanor in the face of his petulance. “I am going to put on your lips to plump them up. I think that will really help your look. Everyone loves big, pouty lips. Don't worry they won't be over the top, just sexy."

Then Ellen used a lip pencil to draw and outline around his lips. He could sense that the line was different from the natural shape of his lips. Ellen explained; "I want your lips to make a real statement. I am making them quite full and am using a bright red color." She outlined them in dark red then applied a glossy ruby red lipstick. Ellen then did his nails they were painted red to match his, now very sexy, lipstick.

Ellen stood back and admired her work. "Honey, your makeup makes a real difference. You know George, the greatest makeup artists in the world are men. Maybe when this is all over you could become one! Since you were fired you will need to do something for a living."

"Sheesh, what a ridiculous thing to say! Let’s just get this over worth." He wasn't interested in thinking about his future right now, not when he was standing here looking like a high-priced call girl.

Finally, she retrieved the wig and fitted it snugly on his head. She fashioned it, securing it with bobby pins. Its soft shoulder length hair hanging freely, bangs off to one side. She would have killed for a curling iron, without it, the hair hung straight. She adjusted it a bit, fluffed it out and was delighted with the final outcome.

Once she had securely pinned his wig in place, he could see his 'female self' emerging in the mirror. But this time he looked sultrier.

She went to a box among the pile and withdrew some bling for Heather. She had a cat that ate the canary smile as she looked him in the eye and told Heather to try on the necklace, earrings, rings and bracelets she had brought. After they were on, she announced, "You’re ready to go baby. Let's finish up here."

She knelt and shoved his footwear for the night on his feet, a pair of red stilettos.

She and George were the same height, but she always wore heels when they went out because George thought they were so sexy. She was going to enjoy watching him suffer in those stilettos so he will know what she goes through just to please him.

Unnerved by the height of the heels George whined, "Why do I have to wear heels this high, they must be five inches? I can't wear these! I'll break my neck!"

"These aren't even that high, they just seem tall. They're not quite four inches. I wear higher than that all the time. Like tonight I’ll be wearing a pair of gorgeous designers five-inch pumps."

George’s feet were on fire, "That might not be high for you! From my perspective they’re stilts and they must be two sizes too small."

Wearing his outrageous hooker heels. His mind was racing and he felt his heart beating like a drum inside his chest. "Ellen, no man should wear something like this and still call himself a man."

"Don't be such a crybaby. They are your size, all heels hurt. Get used to it that is what you are wearing tonight whether you like it or not. You'll get used to them. You just need practice. By the time tonight is over you will be an expert. I taught you to walk in heels, maybe not this high but those lessons will come back in no time."

"If you say so," he said skeptically.

She smiled as she thought that her husband was such a drama queen. "I know how much it bothers you when I wear heels and tower over you. Tonight, we’ll be almost the same height. I’ll admit they are darned uncomfortable, but they are outrageously sexy. Just the thing for our double date."

George never compromised with Ellen. He always went right to surrender because it saves time. He knew he would be wearing the damned skyscraper heels. But the word ‘date’ is what sent a shiver through him.

She secured the heels on his feet with straps and directed, "Walk for me! I want to get the full effect. Remember all we learned about the way woman walk. Put it to practice."

Ellen thought to herself, he learned that sexy feminine gate to walk out of jail, now he will be using it to try and get into some guys pants. The ultimate cosmic joke.

He reluctantly entered the forbidden territory of high fashion. Despite his earlier sessions in high heels. His first steps were comical, having to reach out for Ellen to keep from falling. Ellen joked, "Easy there, sugar. I guess you need to practice with those. We have several hours to practice."

He'd worn heels before, during Ellen’s training in prison. But these were way higher and had a slimmer heel than those. He tried to walk in the stilts his wife had fastened on his feet and found his feet were in agony, his toes were being crushed in the tip of the tight shoes. The heels were so high they forced him to stand practically on his tiptoes. He found that he needed to move in small, precise steps. Ellen couldn’t but help to notice his ample boobs always seemed to be in motion, as he swayed in the heels.

The stilettos were too high to be functional, but function wasn’t what Ellen had in mind for her husband tonight. For the next hour, he tottered back and forth the length of the room, his attempts to balance providing his only distraction from the discomfort in his feet. Ellen directed him, giving him sharp critiques on his walking style and giggling heavily at his efforts all the while. She ignored his insistent complaints about the shoes hurting his feet.

Ellen examined her creation. She saw a slim over endowed woman. In fact, Heather had what could only be described as a 'boyish figure'. However, that did not in any way detract from his femininity. This was one classy woman! Thought Ellen. Attractive but not over the top, just the look she was going for.

Ellen observed, "Your appearance is the embodiment of a professional working girl!"

George wondered at the term ‘working girl’ it held a number of possible alternative meanings none of which he was crazy about. He rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Great, that was what I was going for. Thanks for your help."

"I may look like one but I don't want to be a girl, even for one night." George retorted, unable to believe he was having a conversation about feminizing himself with his wife.

He covered his discomfort by saying, "I would prefer a girl next door look. This all feels very uncomfortable, these heels pinch my feet, I can only take small, mincing steps in them. And this skirt, it's very constricting and makes my ass sway back and forth when I walk. It's kind of short too; I feel like my legs are on display to the world."

To her amusement what he was missing was the way his unencumbered breasts bounced in a shameless hussy manner. She thought that element alone would make tonight’s double date a roaring success.

She could see how nervous he was about going out in public and making a fool of himself. In an attempt to lighten the mood, Ellen jokingly commented, "Heather, don’t quite your day job. You’ll never make it as a runway model."

To Ellen’s delight, Heather was starting to look more natural as she crossed the room and she advised, "Do it again, but this time walk with one foot ahead of the other. It will tend to sway your hips and give you a more feminine movement."

It was his first time in a tight-fitting skirt and stilettos, the heels selected by Ellen stretched his calves painfully. He started to object; but she put her finger on his lips and shushed him and said, "Girls have to suffer to be pretty." She had heard that as a teenager and it had sounded just as stupid then as when she was spouting it to her husband now, but it quieted him down.

Ellen smiled it had taken a lot of effort but eventually Heather's walk turned from an ungainly stumble to almost a smooth and polished feminine sway. There was now a realistic fluid motion to his unconfined supple breasts as he moved. She couldn’t help but chuckle as they even realistically jiggled with each step.

Going braless walking around the room, they bobbed like he was topless. It made him feel naked. By the time they left for their dates, George was quite familiar with how a "liberated woman" felt.

Earlier she had wondered if perhaps she was turning into a lesbian. Tonight, she was going to be with a ‘woman’ who she considered sexy. She also was going to be with a real handsome stud of a man. This night might well decide her future sexual orientation. Would her sexual compass point to the pink or blue side? She would know which way when she saw who she ended up spending the night with.

After watching him prance around the room for a few minutes she said, "That's it, you're doing better. Now keep practicing."

"Honey," Ellen lectured, "With that body you’re so cute, all you have to do is smile at a guy and he will be all over you. Your date's just going to eat you up."

A look of horror appeared on his face as George replied, "That's what I'm afraid of."

"Relax I’m just teasing. It’s essential that your date see you as a believable female and as an available one. If we are going to get them to pay for everything. Keep in mind this is mostly about your physical heath. It’s not intended to be some nefarious outing. Think of the meal we’ll be getting. If we have a decadent desert, I bet, we can get 3 or 4 thousand calories in us tonight. We both really need that."

Ellen did her own war paint a little more dramatic than George was comfortable with. Thus, making sure they were both cosmetically alluring. Then she added her prowling scent as she called her perfume.

George had to ask, "You’re doing all this for a man you just met. Is there something you’re not telling me?"

"I’m not talking about establishing a relationship with these guys. Just use them for our purposes. You for a decent meal."

"What are you getting out of it?"

Unwilling to tell the entire truth she simple said, "Well I get the meal too; our baby could use some protein. Plus, I get to socialize and maybe flirt with a real man for a change."

George flinched at that. It really hurt his pride.

Ellen bubbled on, oblivious to the damage she was doing to her husband's self-respect, "It will be just one night to re-create old times. I used to get guys to spend a ton of money on me. After all I have done to get you home, you can’t deny me that, can you?"

Satisfied that the issue was closed she directed, "Now pipe down and let me have my fun."

He could only suck it up. Ellen was determined for him not to put a damper on her night. So, he pasted a smile on his face and decided to soldier on and see where tonight went. He had to admit the thought of a good free meal was mouthwatering. All it would cost him was his dignity and that pot was almost empty anyway. A little more will never be missed.

Suddenly out of nowhere, panic gripped him. Fear coursed through his body. His smile was not genuine. He spoke from his heart and put thoughts of his stomach aside, "I am not sure Heather is ready for a date, couldn’t you just bring me something back in a doggie bag?"

Ellen pouted and sternly asserted, "That is the dumbest idea I ever heard. Dear I’m going on a date, with or without you. Wouldn’t you feel more comfortable being there with me? Think of it like you are my chaperone, you will be there to keep me out of trouble."

Then laughing, "If you can."

He jumped up and frantically grappled with the zip on the back of his dress, trying to rip it off.

Ellen screamed, "What the hell do you think you’re doing?"

George screeched hysterically, "I can’t fucking do this."

Ellen plopped herself on the bed and pulled Heather down next to her with surprising strength. She clung to Heather's bicep in a vice like grip and announced in no uncertain terms, "Yes you can. More than that you must! Now stop this juvenile tantrum or I will slap some sense into you."

He tried to pull free. Ellen effortlessly held his arm firm. "Ellen you wouldn’t do that!"

Ellen snickered. "Just try me buster."

"You saw how effortlessly I dispatched those two behemoths on the beach. A 95-pound weakling like you wouldn’t present any problem at all."

"Oh El, what am I going to do?"

Ellen released his arm and in a consolatory tone lectured. "I will tell you exactly what you’re going to do! George is going to suck it up and as Heather go on this date. Trust me when I tell you that can do this. Now stand up and walk for me."

She scrutinized him as he walked and with her trademark bemused smile advised, "Do it again, but this time put more sway in your hips."

After watching him prance around the room for a few minutes she said, "That's it, you're doing much better. Now keep practicing until it’s time for us to leave."

"But the shoes are starting to really hurt my feet."

"Damn it, stop whining and grow a pair! It’s something every woman has to endure so surely you can do it for one night."

In no time at all Ellen was dressed to the nines, a tight black pencil skirt and a very low-cut blouse, revealing her cleavage in a seductive kind of way. Her nipples poked out prominently, and when she bent over even a hint of areolae showed above the material.

Ellen brought Heather over to her and they stood side by side in front of the mirror. "You look gorgeous, we will be the two prettiest women there tonight!" she said, kissing his cheek.

The image that he struck in his feminine guise was totally believable.

He felt a sudden, dizzying loss of identity.

What Ellen saw in the mirror made her smile inwardly. She casually mentioned, "Not only am I hot but Heather you are going to be some serious competition tonight."

He had to admit that she was right. The one saving grace was when anyone looked at them, they would certainly pay more attention to Ellen than Heather.

"Thanks, but I thought we were to blend into the background," he articulated.

"Not tonight. We’re going to be in the spotlight. Now that I think about it. I don't know if I like my new girlfriend looking so sexy. You might be too much competition for me, I want my date hunting me not drooling over you."

"Oh, please," he said, taking a hold of her hand." We’re both off the market."

Grabbing his left hand and holding it up next to hers, showing their ring fingers was empty, "That’s to be seen! We both might get lucky tonight."

CHAPTER 9 - What aA Tangled Web We Weave, When First We Practice To Deceive

"Please Ellen, let’s not tease about that. There is no way I am interested in some guy."

"How do you know if you haven’t tried?"

George frowned as Ellen gave Heather one last examination then announced, "It looks like you’ll pass girly muster. Tonight, is your first date with a man. I think it’s important you are as attractive as I can make you. We certainly don’t want him questioning your true gender, that means you have to act as feminine as possible. If you play that role to perfection, you won't get caught and no one will find you out without looking under your skirt. So, if you keep your legs closed like a lady, you'll be just fine." she said expectantly.

"Be sure to let your date believe you are excited about being out with a him. If he doubts it, that could raise all kinds of problems. I have told the boys you are excited about tonight. Don’t make me a liar, there will be consequences."

She had seen George presenting as female countless times. For some reason, tonight with him all dolled up it was different. She was becoming strangely aroused by George's metamorphosis, he truly made an attractive woman. For a fleeting minute, she considered staying in and keeping Heather all to herself. But only for a minute. With her hormones raging she was so looking forward to some man trying to seduce her and she might just get lucky tonight like she did back in school. Ever since her pregnancy her body had been experiencing a whirlwind of new feelings, sensations, and emotions. Since she had gotten pregnant, her hormones had fluctuated wildly. Her libido had been running wild. She needed a good fucking in the worst way, if her husband couldn’t give it. She would find someone who could. Consequences be damned. As they were about to leave, Ellen pulled George into her for a deep kiss that he felt lasted for three days.

Ellen grinned and looked deeply into his eyes. She said, "Darling, no matter what happens tonight remember I love you and only you."

Ellen opened his purse and removed her perfume and gave Heather just a spritz. The floral scent surrounded him! It was a glorious way to christen her maiden voyage! Then she withdrew a tube of lip-gloss and sealer before saying, "Honey, let me touch up your lipstick before we go."

@ @ @ @

Ellen was so excited she headed out the door without waiting for her wingman. Heather hesitated, his heart in his throat. Ellen charged off without him. She yelled over her shoulder, "Don’t dawdle we are going to be late."

In no time at all, Ellen was way ahead. Heather was having a hard time trying to catch up in his heels. He found himself mincing a little gingerly at first as he got used to a different balance on the uneven sidewalk. The loud click-clack of the heels sounded just like an announcement for everyone to look at him. The butterflies of excitement and fear were flapping in his tummy as he stood there for a moment, enjoying the feeling of the wind on his legs. He felt the gentle breeze move the unfamiliar strands of his borrowed hair against his face and tasted the lipstick on his full lips. Even with the sea breeze blowing he could smell his perfume.

Ellen looked over her shoulder to ensure her husband was actually coming. Ellen never thought the day would come when her husband would not only consent but participate in her having a date with a man. Not just any schmuck off the street but a gorgeous super macho stud. Ellen glanced at George struggling to keep up in his heels, and was in awe. he was either the most trusting husband that ever lived or the most naïve.

Meanwhile, George kept looking around to see if anyone was staring at him. He eventually got to the bar door. He paced back and forth trying to work up the courage to go on. The pain in his feet was the decisive factor in deciding to go inside, anything was better than spending another minute standing in those damn heels. He stepped just inside and entered with trepidation as he scrutinized the room. Frozen like a deer in the headlights, he put some considerable effort into not hyperventilating.

Ellen saw her husband lurking in the dark recesses. A beatific smile flashed across her face. She disengaged herself from Todd and crossed the room over to Heather and took him by the hand and pulled him to the two men leaning on the bar, with drinks in their hands. As a form of greeting, Ellen gave Todd, her date a peck on the lips. Turning toward Heather she introduced the two. "Heather, this fine specimen of a man is my date, Todd."

Who responded, "Nice to meet you Heather. I look forward to getting to know you."

If there was any recognition as to his true gender, neither guy showed it. George momentarily relaxed.

Ellen still holding Heather's hand and blurted out, "Be careful around these two horny guys. They are unscrupulous cads, willing to do anything to get into some girl's nickers. Isn't that right boys?"

Everyone but Heather laughed at her remark. It may have been George’s imagination but Ellen's laugh seemed a tad malicious.

"Hey wait a minute. " said the other guy, presumably Heather's blind date. "You’re going to turn her against me."

Ellen ignored his comment and countered, "This is my friend Heather." George stood frozen. His heart was beating wildly and waited with great fear and trepidation before the two men. Their eyes were slowing taking in his effeminate image and they made George feel like he was being examined by lustful dirty old men.

The man standing next to Todd who had spoken was presumably his date. Stepping around Todd he elbowed his companion aside and moved between Todd and Ellen. He was about 6’ 3’’ and heavily built. His large frame was covered with bulky muscles, he was clean-shaven and his hair was close-cropped in a military style. Everything about him was big, his hands, feet, even his wrists. He was wearing a well-tailored pin-striped suit coat, a pink dress shirt and a floral tie. George couldn't help but feel intimidated. He was the sort of remarkably handsome person you found in a high-priced clothing catalog.

He grinned wolfishly and extended his hand and shook hands with Heather, saying "My friend here has failed to properly introduce me. My name is Philip."

Todd pushed Philip aside and regained his position next to Ellen. He put his arm around Ellen and pulled her into him in a possessive manner then announced. "Watch out for him Heather. He was an All-American linebacker at USC. He’s a bit delusional, too many hits to the head I suspect. He thinks he’s god’s gift to woman."

Ellen was not impressed, to her he was just another of the jock types she dated in school.

Philip added, "I was a great ball player but I am better known for my PHD."

"Wow, I am impressed. What field did you earn it in? Said Ellen.

"The bedroom. My title was awarded to me by the campus sorority houses."

A bewildered Ellen commented, "That makes no sense, sororities can’t award degrees."

"True it was purely an honorary title, almost a nickname. I was known as PHD Philip, the guy with the Pretty Huge Dick."

Ellen snickered at the conceited braggadocious asshole. She merely acknowledged his greeting, with a nod of her head. Glad that he wasn’t her date.

Then Philip turned his attention to Heather, he took Heather's hand and brought it to his lips kissing the back, "Enchanté Mademoiselle, my friends call me Flip."

Heather retrieved her hand as Ellen giggled, "That’s very gallant of you Philip but save the bullshit, your date for tonight doesn’t speak French, in fact she doesn’t speak English either, only a little pigeon Spanish. She was raised on a Cherokee reservation. I hope that isn’t going to be an issue."

"I’m not concerned that she can’t talk. I speak the universal language of love." Flip said with a grin on his face.

Flip went on, "The only word she needs to know is yes." Which prompted laughter all around, except from George.

"If that doesn’t work, we will have to fall back on my secondary specialty, braille."

The way the men were staring at him, George felt like they were undressing him with their eyes. It was very unnerving. His heart raced as he waited to see what would happen next. He felt his underarms begin to sweat. His insides turned to jelly. Ellen failed to notice and seemed in no hurry to do anything. Instead, she turned her attention to the conversation, making small talk about the beach, the heat and such. George waited pensively, not knowing what to expect. Ellen stood in front of her man. Todd's hands snaked around Ellen's waist and he leaned in to whisper in her ear. George waited for her to push him away but; she just smiled and leaned back into him.

Taking advantage of a lull in the conversation, Flip extended his hand toward Heather which he mistakenly thought was the universal sign of greeting. With a deep sigh that was designed to muster all of the courage he could find, Heather reached out to shake hello. Flip firmly clasped her hand and refused to let go. George felt small and delicate standing in front of this massive man who was now grasping his hand and showed no signs of letting go. He looked down at Heather with that oh so superior masculine expression. He obviously was accustomed to charming his way with women. George felt a flush of humiliation wash over his psyche. His mouth went dry and it felt like the sweat in his armpits was actually dripping.

Flip led the group to an empty booth. Reaching the booth, Philip finally freed George’s hand. Heather stood passively and waited as Philip slipped into the booth and pulled Heather in behind him. He placed his arm around Heather and rested it on the top of the seat behind her. The booth was cramped and Heather was pushed up against him. It wasn't as big a deal as Ellen’s date did exactly the same to her. Ellen looked at her husband and gave him just the smallest of a smile. Flip leaned in and put his nose almost in Heather's ear, "Yum. Heather, that perfume is heavenly!"

That intimate action made him shiver and gave George goosebumps, the lecherous guy was exhaling into his ear. Heather leaned his head as far away from Flip as he could. It was only a couple of inches but at least it put his ear out of tongue range which is what George thought was coming next.

Ellen leaned across the table and said, "Do you like it. Heather doesn’t have her own. She doesn’t normally wear any fragrance. Lucky for you she insisted on borrowing mine for her date. She has really been looking forward to tonight."

At that, Flip put his hand on Heather's shoulder and pulled her back toward him. The men ordered cocktails, Scotch for themselves and vodka on ice with lemon for the ladies without asking their preference. George forced myself to be ladylike and sip it when he wanted to slam it down to help him relax. Two rounds of drinks were followed by a dinner of surf and turf for everyone. It was the first decent meal in over ten months for George. The lobster and steak were truly delicious. It might have been the long absence from real food, but George couldn’t remember ever having eaten anything better. He savored it, eating it slowly taking small ladylike bites. When the waitress took away his plate it looked like his plate hand been licked clean.

The drinks continued to flow the entire time. George had to slowly sip his drink, having gone so long without alcohol it was having a serious impact on him. Georges date had roaming hands but was easily deflected during the meal. The four were all relaxed and satisfied as the dishes were cleared. That is when things changed, with another round of after dinner drinks being consumed. Both men became more aggressive, Heather found Flip’s hand on her upper thigh inches away from her secret that was threating to make an appearance.

Heather, not used to alcohol, was on the way to being drunk, but the hand under her skirt gave her a shot of adrenalin that sobered her up rather quickly. She crossed her legs sending Flip a very clear message.

The men continued to order drinks as quickly as the glasses were emptied. Ellen rested her head on Todd’s shoulder and frequently whispered something into his ear, while she ran one hand over his chest. All of which generated a huge grin on Todd’s face. Eventually they were so close it was like they were sharing the same space. As the night went on, the snuggling turned to Ellen nibbling on his ear. George’s jealousy wouldn’t let him watch anymore. His date helped draw his attention away from his duplicitous wife. He was forced to fend off Flip’s advances. The Casanova wouldn’t take a hint, so George gave up and focused his attention on his drink, hoping to get blinding drunk so he won’t remember anything about this night. At the moment, he was trying desperately to hold back his bottled-up emotions. Ellen coughed daintily, George looked up and caught Ellen eyeing him as she shook her head no. The message was clear that he needed to stop resisting Flip’s advances. Heather threw down the rest of her drink and leaned up against her date as he played with the hairs of his wig.

The after-dinner drinking was a prolonged affair and eventually Todd got up to go to the bathroom, while Flip went to the bar to get everyone another round of drinks. George was so flushed he was scarlet, he flipped out. He leaned across the table and growled at Ellen, "Just what the hell are you doing?"

"Whoa back that pumpkin up Cinderella!" Ellen snapped. "That is a bit melodramatic, I am just having a little fun. Stop acting like a Vestal Virgin and loosen up and join in. You have a lot to learn about being a woman on a date. Try following my lead and give your guy a good time. You might surprise yourself and find he in turn can make you feel good. Between dinner and the bar tab, these guys have each dropped over a hundred bucks on us. They are going to expect more than a smile and a cheap feel. I am just trying to give Todd his money’s worth. I recommend you do the same for Flip. The last thing ‘you’ want is for him to find out your secret. Even if he doesn’t beat the crap out of you, the local cops could get involved."

Heather could see the logic in Ellen's comments and found himself spiraling downward and into a blind alley. The humiliation of watching his wife throw herself at another man in front of him all came together in a synergy that melted George's inhibitions.

Todd and Flip met up at the bar before heading back to their table. Todd turned to Flip and asked, "Well what do you think?"

"I have to confess I was a little worried. When I asked what Heather looked like all I got was she has a great personality. I admit she is no beauty queen. Of course, let’s be honest most woman wandering the streets of the US are real dogs. Don’t take away my man card, Heather is making me realize there are more important things than looks. Even with the language issue I think she has the potential to be a lot of fun. She has a spectacular body that has the promise of good things to come."

They made their way back to the table with Flip leading the way and they resumed their seats next to their dates. Ellen had one eye open watching her husband’s reaction to this situation. Flip returned with their drinks and scooted into his seat. George thinking about what his wife had said, took the initiative and snuggled up to Flip lowering his head on Flip’s shoulder, pinning his left arm between them. His other hand seemed to have a mind of its own and came to rest on Flip's knee.

When George realized where it was, he slowly moved it off not knowing what to do with his free hand and reached up and ran his nails though Flip's hair. An action Flip seemed to enjoy. His response was to pull Heather onto his lap and held him there. Heather found to keep his balance he put his hand behind Flip’s head. Flip responded by pulling Heather down on his maleness as it hardened. George was embarrassed and humiliated.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ellen watched her husband snuggling into a man’s lap and found that she didn't like it, regardless of what she had just said. Between the booze and her raging hormones, she wasn’t thinking clearly. She thought George was going too far. In her mind, he was supposed to flirt with the guy, not get physical. She took the initiative to pay him back and pulled Todd’s head around and kissed him firmly on the lips. She looked at George to gauge his reaction. Todd took her conduct as encouragement. Ellen had lost control of the situation. Things started to get out of hand.

When George next got a look see, Todd had his hand up Ellen’s blouse and was clearly manipulating her tits. As Ellen’s hormones raged, her hand found and massaged the bulge in Todd’s pants.

Their kiss was obviously passionate as George could see there was a lot of tongue action going on. George was hurt that Ellen would do that right in front of him. Her actions were way more than a thank you for dinner. The drinks had loosened everyone up. So far George had resisted his date's advances. The large quantities of alcohol had him start to relax and his will to resist was crumpling fast.

George could only watch his wife making out with her date. Something that had George boiling on the inside. To get even, he snuggled into Philip's lap and just let things happen as he mirrored Ellen’s actions and kissed Flip on the lips. Between his anger, the booze, and the physical stimulation, George found himself actively participating in the kiss. He sucked on Flip's tongue like it was his sex organ. He could feel Flip getting harder just as George’s own little man was straining to make an unwelcome appearance.

The thought his masquerade was good enough to get that response from a man was a source of confused pride for George. He began to relax believing he was safe from discovery. That lasted only until Flip tried to stick his hand up his skirt again. By playfully slapping Flip's hand he managed to disengage himself. He reached across the table and tapped Ellen on the shoulder and motioned he wanted to talk. Ellen broke her kiss and climbed over her date. Standing, she told the table, "Sorry guys, we need to go powder our noses we won’t be long."

Flip slid out to allow Heather to exit. He reached out seemingly to help her from the booth. He reached out and held Heather by the waist and lifted Heather down. Once she was on her feet, he moved in and grabbed her ass with his meaty hands. George was shocked as Flip lifted Heather by his bum cheeks off the ground and pulled him up to meet his lips. The kiss lasted seemingly forever as George was helpless to resist as he was held suspended with his feet several inches off the floor.

An unhappy Ellen coughed, "Get a room you two." Punching Philip in the arm she firmly said, “Excuse me, but we need to go. We’ll be back before you have time to miss us. Why don’t you take this opportunity to get us something more to drink?"

As Flip released Heather, he had that masculine superior look written all over his face, from the obvious pleasures that his woman was giving him. As the girls walked away, Todd gave Philip the thumbs up.

As the ‘ladies’ entered the powder room, George did a quick check to ensure they were alone.

Before he could say anything, Ellen started, "I know when something is troubling you, baby. Why don't you tell me? You always feel better when you get it off your chest."

She watched Heather's puffy bottom lip tremble ever so slightly.

In an inebriated state, George nodded his head like a bobble head doll. Brushing away a tear that hung trembling at the precipice of his chin he said. "Ellen, just what the fuck are you doing acting like a tramp and flaunting it in front of me! And I think you need to take it easy on the booze. It’s not healthy for the baby."

Ellen turned pale for a brief second but quickly regained her composure. "You are right, I will switch to 7up from now on out. Happy now? As far as my conduct goes, I am on a date. What do you want me to do, take up needlepoint?"

"Ellen, please don’t trivialize this. For heaven’s sake, my creepy date has a hard-on. It’s disgusting. What am I supposed to do about that?"

Ellen smiled triumphally, "Off the top of my head, I can think of a couple of things. You should be flattered that your impersonation of a girl turns on a worldly man like that."

Back on the offensive George charged, "You are obviously attracted to Todd."

All Ellen could do was try and explain her side of the story. She gave him a look that would curdle milk. Then Ellen’s eyes glazed over briefly as she answered truthfully, "Yes I am. Todd is unquestionably an alpha male."

"Unlike me you mean!" said an angry George.

"I didn’t say that. You need to calm down. Don’t be getting all sanctimonious with me! I saw you throwing yourself at Flip and swapping spit with him! Do I fantasize that Todd will drag me off to his room and ravish me? Hell yes? Any woman would want that. As a woman in her sexual prime I have certain needs, add to that my maternity hormones are raging right now. It is almost impossible to say no to a stud like him. Todd appears more than ready to fill my longings as he will fill my loins. Will I let him; I don’t know? I confess I’m tempted."

Ellen took a deep breath and went on, "I need you to put yourself in my shoes. I have risked everything to help save you. If I didn’t care about you. I could have done nothing and let you rot in jail, and just concentrate on building up my business, or for that matter, my social life. Rather, I came into a foreign country and broke you out of jail, thus risking my livelihood by committing a major crime. According to our lawyer I could be sent to jail for 20 years for what I have done.

"Now our dates are waiting for us."

Ellen ducked into a stall, so George sought refuge in an unoccupied stall. He managed to figure out what parts of his clothing to pull up, and which to push down, and even remembered to sit while he did the deed. He emptied his bladder of all the alcohol he had drunk. He even patted himself dry like a good girl. Pulling himself back together, he exited the stall and found Ellen refreshing her makeup at the mirror, so he joined her.

Ellen insisted, "Repair your face and let’s get back and see where this all leads us. I have put my life and freedom on the line for you. Can’t you give me this one night. Don’t I deserve that?"

George felt like he was losing his wife, but was determined to follow the old wives’ tale, ‘If you love something set it free. If it comes back it’s yours. If not, it was never meant to be.’

He courageously replied, "Have I ever refused you anything? You do what you have to do. Don’t worry about me, I’ll survive."

Ellen gleefully replied, "Thanks, I’ll take that as a yes."

CHAPTER 10 - Deception; the practice of deliberately making someone believe things that aren’t true

Ellen touched up her makeup, explaining why it was important. George always thought that women used makeup to help them look pretty; he was now told it was all part of the seduction game.

"Now let’s get back in there the night is still young."

A broken man, George turned to the mirror to freshen his lipstick. He was in turmoil, so autopilot took over and he did the lipstick thing too.

Satisfied he had repaired his lipstick; he followed his wife out of the bathroom and made his way back to his date.

Doing his best to ignore Ellen and hoping to annoy her, he voluntarily hopped into Flip’s lap like he was about to tell Santa what he wanted for Christmas and wrapped his arms around his head. Then said loud enough for everyone at the table to hear with his best Spanish accent, "ven aquí amante" which as only Ellen knew roughly translates into ‘Come here lover.’

Ellen’s eyes went wide and then narrowed, she was almost paralyzed with rage. If he wanted to play games, she was determined to show Heather how a real woman treats her man.

Todd let Ellen slide in and sat alongside her once more. He leaned close and gave her a long deep kiss. She put one hand on his muscular thigh and stroked it through his tight pants, moving closer and closer to his crotch. George could see the familiar bulge growing there, it was obvious she was a willing and enthusiastic partner. George was jealous as hell, but he was in no position to do anything about it. Except follow her lead and drive Flip crazy. He nibbled on Flip’s ear all the while keeping one eye on Ellen and Todd.

Todd took a swallow of his beer and gave his date another kiss, to which she responded with passion. Todd set down his drink on the table to free up both hands. He brought his left up to encase her plump breast. He kneaded the yielding flesh and she closed her eyes and moaned so loud a couple at a neighboring table looked over. His other hand disappeared somewhere up Ellen’s skirt.

George was furious at what he was witnessing. He sat there and stewed before deciding to fight fire with fire. A decision he would live to regret. He kissed Flip with as much passion he could muster and wiggled his ass into Flip's hard manhood. All the while trying to watch his wife out of the corner of his eye. Ellen for her part, between sessions of tongue wrestling, would steal surreptitious glances at her feminized husband. She could see was on the right track, she was getting to him.

George was so angry at his wife that he was determined to show her who was the bigger tramp. He and his date necked like horny teenagers, between downing several shots. George surprised himself as he could feel himself getting excited.

Flip’s hands started to wander again. George was alright with a quick boob feel and an occasional squeeze on his butt. It was when Flip’s hand ended up on his thigh and tried to move north for the third time that Heather clamped his legs together to discourage this exploration. A quick glance across the table revealed Ellen was lost in ecstasy as it appeared, she was being finger fucked by her date. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Ending his make out session, he thanked Flip in his best feminine sounding Spanish for a fun evening, pushed his way out of the both and headed for their room as fast as he could in the damn high heels. Before he got out of the bar. he heard Ellen howl, "Wait Heather!" He stopped hoping she wanted to go with him. What he got broke his heart, she merely said, "You forgot your purse." That did it and he stormed out into the cool night air.

He heard the group laughing lightly as he headed off, leaving Ellen in the bar with her date. He figured avoidance was the only way to deal his feelings. Both his reaction to the man’s kiss and his disturbing response to seeing his wife in the intimate embrace of another man created an emotional overload.

CHAPTER 11 - If there is to be reconciliation, first there must be truth

After Heather’s unexpected departure, Ellen felt she needed to say something so she called the guys together and attempted an apology, "I’m so sorry for the way my friend acted. Just between us, she has never been with a man."

That drew a collective gasp.

Philip said, "You mean she’s a virgin at her age?"

Ellen with an evasive comment went on. "I didn’t exactly say that."

While the men were trying to grasp the ramifications of that statement Ellen continued, "I thought this might be her lucky night. Where she was introduced into the true delights of womanhood. I guess being with a suave sexy guy like you Philip was too much for her."

Flip smiled and replied, "I understand, I have often been told I am too much of a man for a lot of ladies to handle. Some of it was probably my fault. I came on a little strong tonight. There was just something special about her that got my engine running. I haven’t had a virgin since high school. Next time I will go a little slower. I would like another shot at her. Too bad we have to leave first thing in the morning, Todd can give you our phone numbers for when you girls come home."

Once outside the bar, Heather took off his heels and ran to their room. He stripped off his dress and panty. He tried to pull off his boobs but it was too painful so he just collapsed in the fetal position on the bathroom floor. His spirit was broken, he couldn’t find a reason to go on. Puddles of tears pooled on the title floor as he cried himself out.

@ @ @ @

That is how Ellen found him 45 minutes later. She quietly entered their room and didn’t see her husband on the bed like she expected. Scanning the room, she noticed the bathroom door was ajar. She swung the door open and was greeted with pitch black. She searched for the light switch and turned it on. When the lights came on, George kept his head hidden in his hands. George bit his lip trying to get control of his emotions. His eyes were closed, but he knew it was Ellen from the scent of her perfume. He briefly looked up and saw Ellen was flushed and her hair was a disaster.

Ellen looked down at the pathetic thing sitting on the cold ceramic tile. His shoulders shook, gently, indicating that the poor thing was sobbing. She resolved to come to his rescue. Ellen intuitively knew she was walking on eggshells.

She hurried to Heather’s side and sat on the side of the tub. She put her hand under his chin and made him look at her. She was distressed at what she found. Heather’s eyes were red and swollen from crying. In all the years of their marriage she had seen George sad; but he had never openly wept before.

"What’s the matter honey? Before you stormed out of the bar, it looked like you were having a good time. Then you just got up and left. What did Flip do to you?" She asked and sat next to him on the floor, taking him in her arms.

He shook his head, unable to speak. He was in no condition to even speak, let alone make a coherent argument.

George eventfully composed himself enough to sit upright, his faux breasts poking out from his hairless chest. "Look at me, Ellen. I'm a joke. A little queer with tits. I'm pathetic."

"That's enough," she said sternly shaking him by the shoulders. "You are NOT a freak, and the last I heard you were not attracted to men, so the queer comment seems misspoken. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself. You are who you are. That happens to be a kind, caring person, forced by circumstances to temporarily set aside the appearance of your manhood. Clothes do not define the man." Then poking his quivering boobs." Certainly, a couple of pounds of silicon doesn’t label you. I do not associate with freaks, so just stop it. If you have to put a label on it lets go with gender jumbled for now."

George wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and replied, "Just great. I am worried about my sanity and you want to play word games. I am either gay or I’m not. Fancy words won’t change that!"

She held him until he had calmed down. Once he was breathing evenly again, she stood and held her hands out to pull him to his feet. "Come to bed. I need you. I bet I can prove you aren’t gay."

Ellen pulled him to his feet, which set his boobs bouncing off each other like the Newton`s cradle steel balls perpetual motion desk top toy. He had to reach up to contain the damn things. He didn’t want to know; but had to ask. With a pout, he put his hands on his hips and questioned. "How was your date? Was it everything you hoped for?"

She realized what he was insinuating and knew she had to reassure him. "I'll tell you the whole truth." she said. "When you bolted out of the bar and left us alone, Todd offered to take me to his room. I didn't play coy. With my libido running wild, I was so hot my juices were running down my legs. Without even thinking, I said yes right away. What did you expect to happen?"

George with a quivering voice answer truthfully. "That is exactly what I saw coming. I just couldn’t sit by and watch that happen. That is why I bolted out of there."

She smiled. "Don’t get all self-righteous with me. For future reference, as long as you are pretending to be a woman, you will need to learn it's not nice to tease boys and then leave them unsatisfied."

George’s face showed his pain, "I saw you two embracing, kissing and petting. He had his hand in your blouse fondling your tits. I can only imagine what he was doing with his other hand under your skirt."

Ellen realized she may have gone too far and tried to justify her actions. "Not so fast missy, I watched you sit on Flip's lap. I saw you squirming there like a fish out of water. I bet it was like sitting on a bar of iron. You had his head in a death grip and were tongue wrestling with Flip. You had the poor guy so worked up he about came right there. You didn’t do him any favors; you were a real tease."

Ellen folded her arms across her chest, locking her hands at the elbows and staring into the eyes of her husband's made-up face. He returned her stare, locked in a staring contest he blinked first and said, "Ellen you missed the point. I am in no way attracted to Flip. I only did those things because of what you and Todd were doing."

Ellen found that a bit ironic, "We were just having a little fun. Sure, I was turned on by Todd and wanted to take him somewhere where he could fuck my brains out. But not in public, I am not that uninhibited nor am I an exhibitionist. I did those things because I was mad and jealous of you and Flip. My attraction to Todd was purely hormonal, there was no emotional connection at all. I don’t even like him, he is too much like the jerks I dated before you.

"You say you aren’t attracted to Flip. I have to question that statement because of the way you two carried on. Can you honestly tell me you weren’t sexually excited with all the kissing and foundling?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I am saying. I will admit the attention made me feel more feminine but it didn’t turn me on in any way."

"Well I can tell you; the same thing can’t be said for Philip. Heather made a big impression on Flip. When you left, Flip complained to Todd that you were nothing but a tease and enjoys getting guys all worked up. A girl who thinks it's fun to get them halfway to where they want to go, and then leave them hanging with their balls all sore."

George defended himself, "I was only following your lead, like you instructed me to."

Ellen smiled lopsidedly at her helpless husband. "Ducky then you deserve an academy award. It sure looked like you were enjoying yourself. You had the poor guy so worked up he had to go to his room and settle for hand pussy."

He smiled at that but had to ask, "What about you and Todd?"

"As I said, he invited me to spend the night in his room. An offer I jumped at gladly. After all I felt something for him. It was primal. Unfortunately, there was no emotional connection, it was purely physical."

George was disheartened. "Ellen, if that was meant to make me feel better it failed miserably."

Ellen wasn’t done and went on, "Let me finish. You may feel better when I am through. When I got to his room the only thing, I could think about was the expression on your face when you stormed out of the bar. This is hard for me to admit. Recently, I have been wrestling with my sexual orientation. I have always been drawn to men; but lately my attraction to you as Heather has me questioning my attraction to men.

You, as Heather, have me wondering if I wasn’t repressing my true lesbian tendencies. I knew you were hurting and I just couldn’t do that to you. Or to us. Like any normal person I enjoy an occasional fantasy, but tonight I couldn’t violate my marital vows in front of you. I returned to George, the person I love, with the realization that love is more than a physical attraction. Real intimacy comes from a spiritual place instead of the physical one. Don’t worry George, you are never going to lose me."

George, still invested in his pity party, said, "Stop calling me George. He is gone, there is only Heather now."

"Why would you say that?" she said dismissively.

"My God Ellen, I don’t understand it. I wasn’t truthful with you. What I was doing with Flip did things to me."

"Things like what?"

George had never felt so conflicted, "I got excited a little bit, down below and still am, if you know what I mean."

"Ducky, you’re only human, intimacy with anyone will cause an anatomic response, it’s just biology. I doubt if one night has tuned you gay. As for me, my body still needs a good fucking. If the plumbing is working down there, I don’t care who turned on the spigot. I’m just glad your little man has decided to come out of retirement. I want to take advantage of it."

She pulled George toward her and led him toward the bed. "I've made a girl out of you. Don't you think it’s time I made a man out of you again?

"Lie down on the bed, Dearie. On your back."

Laying on top of her husband she confided, "I did a lot of things tonight that I shouldn’t have. The drinking for one, the intimacy with Todd was certainly a mistake. I would like to blame all that on my mixed-up hormones. My libido is still on supercharge. I left a big fat prick waiting for me in Todd’s room. So, it is up to you to meet my needs. But I need your lovely mouth as a preliminary. The main event will come later."

George reached for her, she parried his arms and pushed him down on the bed and with a simple edict, "Let’s not rush to the grand finale, I would like an appetizer first." She climbed on top of him so that his head was buried between her legs. The last fleeting comment he heard before her legs clamped around his ears were, "Bon Appetit, my daring." He knew what she wanted and he eagerly went to work on his wife's most sensitive area.

He had her quickly squealing with joy. Her voice did a wonderful job of climbing the octaves as he worked his magic with his tongue.

Several minutes later, she was able to catch her breath. She addressed her husband, "Oh yes sweetie. You've always had a talented mouth. Yes, yes, yes let’s do that again!"

She moaned and twisted while pushing his head tight against her love nest. He found her prominent clit and worked it with my tongue, which quickly brought her to another violent orgasm.

"Oh, god!" she squealed and clamped her thighs about his head as her body was wracked with uncontrollable shudders.

When he thought he was about to suffocate, she slowly released his head from between her thighs and he gulped air into his lungs.

She reached back and found the prize she wanted! Her husband's magic stick had risen from the dead like Lazarus and was standing tall. Staring down at her lover she said, "I think I have died and gone to heaven, I have a mate with a beautiful set of tits with a tall hard clit. It’s all a lesbian could ever ask for."

"Now fuck me," she ordered him as she spread her legs wide allowing him access and he plunged his surprisingly rejuvenated manhood into her. Their headboard was knocking against the wall in the unmistakable ancient rhythm of intercourse. They proceeded to dance the lovers waltz. It didn't take long for him to approach orgasm with his pent-up libido. Ellen knew he was about to cum as his body tense and he started to lose his rhythm. She was ever so close and hoped he could hold out a little longer so they could come together. His first spasm was all it took for Ellen to pass over. It turned out to be perfect and they exploded together. It was the best mutual experience they had had in a long time.

Ellen purred, "Oh sweetie, that was so good. When this all started, I had no idea how much of a stud you would become in bed. I have really missed having you inside of me."

She then brought her mouth to his member and sucked on it for a while, trying to pump life back into it. He sighed with a moan. It took a while but eventually he was hard enough for penetration again. This time they made long slow love, the passion having been spent.

Ellen sat astride her husband his manhood still sealed in her pussy. Her last climax slowly fading away. Ellen’s hand absentmindedly manipulated a nipple on one of Heather’s silicon breast. Repeating over and over again, "Your supple silicon breasts are so sexy and life-like. I love them large like this."

He asked her "What’s going on, you know those aren’t real."

She had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. "I don't know really. I just find making love to you looking this way an incredible turn-on. I am beginning to see why men like girls with great big boobies."

She wiggled her tushy, feeling his member still in her, and added timidly, "I love having a little lesbian in me." She giggled when she realized the double entendre.

Their actions were on autopilot after that they went on making love until they were both exhausted and fell asleep in each other’s arms feeling a sexual euphoria like they had never felt before.

CHAPTER 12 - Indentured servant.

The next morning, his body had come down from its orgasmic high and he woke thinking that being a guy with boobs and a working joystick wasn’t so bad.

He snuck into the bathroom while Ellen still slept. While in the shower he observed some of his body hair they had missed the previous day. Seeing Ellen's razor, he shaved his entire body thinking how much smoother his body felt without hair. For once in his life, he was thankful for his Indian heritage and that he had almost no facial hair and didn't have to worry about a five o'clock shadow. Returning to the bedroom, he saw that Ellen had laid out his bikini on his side of the bed. He furrowed his brows thinking ‘Oh God not again’. His silicone pillows hung heavy on his chest. The skin under them was feeling irritated. Ellen had been a tad rough on them last night.

Looking at his bathing suit George asked with trepidation, "What’s going on?"

Ellen pretending like she didn’t understand, pointed to his suit and said "Oh, you mean this?" then nonchalantly she threw it at him. He let it fall on the floor. Undaunted by his juvenile behavior she directed, "Get dressed we have to return your dress from last night. You can’t wear it to the shop, you would have nothing to wear back."

Terrified at the thought of wearing that out in public he pleaded, "Why do I have to go? Can’t I just wait here?"

"Right now, the only thing you have to wear is your bikini and the matronly dress you wore when we checked in. You will need something to wear around here and for the trip home, whenever that might be. Your figure doesn’t fit any normal womanly size. Therefore, I need you there to try on outfits to ensure they fit and look good."

Still hoping for a reprieve from the governor, he implored, "I can’t go around wearing that thing. I will feel so exposed in it."

"I got up early while you were in the shower and checked my email account with your sister. She says the heat wave will last another month. That means will need to stay here 4 more weeks. We have no choice but to return the dresses to get money to pay for our stay. I anticipated your objections so I went to the hotel boutique to get you something cheap to wear to exchange the dresses. Wait here I’ll go get it.”

Ellen went to the dresser and returned with a bag. Opening it she handed it to George. "I got this for Heather to wear. It can be both a beach coverup for your top, or can be worn as casual wear as tank top with shorts."

He bent over to pick up the suit. Stooping set his décolletage swinging wildly. ‘Great that’s all I need he thought.’ With Ellen’s help he put the suit back on. To cloak his bikini top, she handed him a lace hollow crochet top blouse.

He held it up and moaned, "You can see through the loose mesh."

"All you do is complain. Be thankful, it is basic white, my other choice was hot pink. It may not be a cloak to hide behind, but it is elegant and fashionable, this is a resort town."

Heather put it on and realized it was better than going without.

Next Ellen handed him a long white sarong swimsuit wrap. That tied at the waist and covered most of his legs.

She helped Heather get dressed, helped him put on a light coat of lip gloss and packed up last night’s dresses and headed out of the door.

Heather had no trouble keeping up in her flipflops. Except that the hurried pace caused his breasts to sway in tandem, as the bikini top failed to provide adequate support. He finally had to ask Ellen to slow down. Each bounce of his boobs caused discomfort on his chest. He asked Ellen if they could get something to remove the large falsies glued to his chest. She reluctantly agreed, knowing once they came off, he would never wear them again.

They took a cab into town. They arrived at the dress shop and Ellen marched to customer service and tried to exchange the dresses. Hers was taken back but the dress Heather had worn was pit stained from all his perspiring. She sold the dress back at 50 centavos to the peso. That put a large dent in Ellen’s fiscal plans. She was going to have to think of something. At Heather’s insistence they bought fingernail polish remover to help peel off his boobs.

It was a perfect day, sunny and warm with a slight ocean breeze. They decided to walk back to the resort along the beach to save money. By the time they arrived, both were exhausted. When they passed through the lobby to their surprise there was a police officer standing by the front desk talking to the clerk. George could only assume they were still looking for him.

He hated being Heather 24/7 but the disguise appeared to have the authorities fooled. Thanks be to God, so he was determined to keep it up until he got across the border. Ellen sent Heather to their room to rest while she sought out the resort manager to negotiate some kind of deal to allow the girls to extend their stay. It took some pleading but, being the slow season, the manager was agreeable to a work program. They were short several maids so when Ellen offered Heather as a replacement, he jumped at the concept.

Ellen was concerned about how George was going to react to the fact he was now in effect an indentured servant. But she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

He was at first delighted to learn Ellen had worked out a deal to stay rent free for two more weeks.

He was not so excited about the terms of the deal. He would be required to report at 7 AM every morning and be a maid for 8 hours each day. His shift would last until 4 PM, since checkout was noon, he would start each day in the kitchen and work there until it was time to clean all his assigned rooms. There was an added benefit, his noon meal would be provided by the hotel restaurant, as long as the staff ate in the kitchen. He had to admit having a good lunch was a real positive.

That afternoon, they worked on getting his tits off. When Ellen pried the breast forms off Georges chest, he winced in pain.

She was stunned at what she exposed. His breasts hadn’t grown as far as she could tell but the skin under the forms was covered in a nasty red rash.

To her amazement, his aureoles and nipples appeared to have changed and enlarged in size even if his boobs hadn’t. The aureoles were the size of a half-dollar and were covered with feminine bumps. She had never seen those on a man before. If she remembered correctly, they were called Montgomery glands. His nipples were a quarter of an inch tall and the width of a number 2 pencil. Putting that aside, she was concerned about the damage the super glue had done to his chest. She sent him to take a long shower.

She went to a local pharmacy and tried to explain to the lady behind the counter what she wanted. Unable to find the correct words, she used pantomime rubbing her hands across her chest trying to show distress. The clerk handed her a jar of a cream that the clerk through pigeon English implied it was a good skin cream. She managed to convey it was made from a wild yam that grows in Mexico. What Ellen didn’t realize until much later it was a locally produced synthetic form of Progesterone cream.

Ellen hurried back and had George lay on his back. She cautiously rubbed the cream into his tender chest. Both were glad to see it provided immediate relief. So, from that point on even after the rash was gone until the pot was empty, she would massage the cream into George’s chest. Unquestionably, George enjoyed the breast kneading. With hormones raging, he felt a stirring of excitement that was both emasculating and an incredible turn-on when Ellen played with his chest.

Ellen had only promised the manager one maid in exchange for their rent. She told George she wanted to join him but being pregnant she thought the manual labor and chemicals would be unhealthy for the baby. A decision George accepted on face value.

The first week as a domestic was anything but pleasant. As the ‘new’ girl, Heather was given the less than glamorous assignments. He was assigned to clean the bathrooms. He spent half of every day on his knees scrubbing dirty toilets. After his trial period as the new girl, things settled down. The rest of the time was very humdrum for Heather. He eventually worked his way up to collecting the soiled laundry and making beds. The one saving grace was the girls he was working with. At first, they were leery of the gringa woman working as a maid, but Heather won them over by her hard work and willingness to take on the dirtiest of the jobs. Without any complaint.

During the two weeks as a housekeeper, Heather picked up a little more Spanish and his feminine voice continued to improve. As long as he kept his responses to a little more than monosyllabic grunts, he found he was able to moderated his voice in a more feminine tone.

To justify her inactivity, Ellen feigned having morning sickness each morning. She would stay in the bathroom making retching sounds until her husband left for his job.

Ellen found if she hung around the lobby and bar in her bikini on most days, she could find some guy willing to treat her to a meal in exchange for a little companionship. So, they were housed and fed for two weeks. She was concerned about her husband’s situation. She spent a lot of time on the internet in the business center.

She also conducted a thorough research on the herbal supplements that had seemed to grow her husband’s boobs. It made no sense, she found nothing to justify what had happened to him. Then one day while reading the English version of El Reform, Mexico City’s leading newspaper, an article caught her eye. The paper had done an investigative story. It revealed that the government had been surreptitiously adding female hormones to inmate’s food in an attempt to cut down on violence and reduce sexual assaults in the jails. To Ellen’s bliss, she immediately realized that the real culprit for her husband’s feminization was not her but the federal government.

Further research implied that, unless it had gone too far, time would reverse the damage done to his system. She decided not to mention anything to her husband, as there was nothing, they could do about it now other than wait for the chemicals to clear his system.

CHAPTER 13 - The Prince looked down at the prisoner, Who's this dirty slut? Off with his nuts! Off with his nuts!

Ellen finally received an email from her husband’s sister, saying the weather had cooled at home. Ellen began her plan to cross the border. She notified the resort they were leaving and they that would be losing their gringa maid. Ellen was pleased when the hotel manager said he would be happy to give Heather a positive recommendation.

Her next stop was to find Heather and give him the good news. She found him on his hands and knees scrubbing a bathroom floor. Ellen was sure he would be delighted to hear that he had cleaned his last toilet. He insisted upon finishing his current assignment, if he didn’t one of his friends would have to do it. Together, they went to the hotel manager and told him Heather was quitting immediately. They returned to their room and tried to decide what they were taking and what was going to be left behind. They went to bed early determined to be rested for tomorrow.

First thing in the morning, Ellen went out to buy food for breakfast, she had a spring in her step knowing this would be their last day in Mexico. She bought some fruit to get them by until lunch. She had their train tickets safely tucked in her purse. If all went smoothly, they would be at the border by lunch. She could already taste what would be her first meal in the States, a Big Mac with fries and a large diet coke.

As she was about to return to their room, a roadside vendor caught her eye. He had a large selection of hand carved items for sale or barter. She spent several minutes perusing the carvings. One phallic shaped carving caught her attention. On close examination, it was a piece of hard wood carved to replicate the male genital. A very naughty thought popped into her head. They had several hours to kill before their train. She now knew how they were going to spend them. The barter session was done in no time. Ellen spent the last of her Mexican cash on the souvenir. They had to get across the border today or go hungry.

She skipped back to their room in a hurry to show her prized memento to her hubby. As she entered their room, she had a smirk on her face.

George was laying on the bed enjoying his morning off and resting for the trip home. Seeing Ellen’s smile, he was immediately wary, "What’s up El?"

She kissed him sweetly and put the shopping bag she was holding down. She looked at him and gave him a sexually charged smile.

"Nothing really. I bought you a present. Open it up." she said excitedly, presenting with the bag. "The workmanship is exquisite. I know you’ll like it?" She said with excitement and anticipation in her voice.

Grabbing the bag, he asked, "What is it?"

"It’s what I refer to as a girl’s best friend."

He opened the bag carefully, not sure what he would find inside. With trembling fingers. He cautiously peeled away layers of wrapping paper to reveal his present. With his heart racing, he carefully withdrew the contents. To his embarrassment he found an anatomically correct carved wooden penis. George had to admit the detail and workmanship was incredible.

"Just what the hell I am to do with this? I’m not a girl! I can only assume you want me to use this on you."

"You are half right."

Involuntarily he started to hyperventilate.

"Do you trust me? " she asked.

He cautiously replied, "I am not sure anymore. Why do you ask?"

"Don’t be naïve! I have heard that it can be unhealthy for fluid to build up in a man’s prostate. I am not trying to emasculate you. This is a tool to help you with that problem. Listen to me George, I have done research on the subject. The hormones have affected your ability to ejaculate. Two weeks ago, you climaxed but I found no signs of any ejaculate. In order to keep your prostate healthy, you will have to be milked at least once each month. From what I have been told, this is a method of milking. You will find that there will be no projectile ejaculation, just an oozing of your fluids. But it is necessary for your health."

She said holding up the wooden penis. "I think this is the solution on how to deal with that. We have time to kill let’s give it a test run." Then she reached into her purse and withdrew a condom. "I think we should put a rubber on it first, for sanitation purposes. You do it. I suspect you have had more practice than little old me."

George flat-out refused to let Ellen put it inside him. He figured that enough was enough. He had gone along with everything his wife had wanted up to now, but he wasn't going to let her penetrate him with a wooden lifelike cock. With tightly clutched cheeks, he was making a stand.

"My toenails may be painted red, but I am putting my foot down, nonetheless. You’re not going to stick that up my asshole."

"No of course not! If it makes you feel better, we can call it your manly vagina. I am not trying to turn you into a female. This is something that must be done to insure your physical health."

"This is like killing two birds with one stone. Over the past few months, you’ve become a believable looking girl. You have endured a lot of the negatives of womanhood and I thought it was time you got to experience one of the joys associated with being a female."

Laughing at the way he tensed up, she went on, "Now relax. I think in the end you will enjoy this. Look at you sitting there in pretty lingerie with your nails painted in girly fashion."

Ellen very patiently explained, "I’ve read that a man's ass could be a very powerful erogenous zone. Gay men seem to enjoy it, from what I have heard."

George replied, "I’m not so sure. I have always viewed that as a one-way portal strictly limited to outgoing traffic."

She countered, "Don’t be so conventional. Open your mind to the possibilities of new experiences. In a loving situation, I am sure the feeling of penetration will be very erotic. It has nothing to do with being gay." She assured him.

"While you were taking math classes, I was in biology class. I learned that the anus has as many nerve endings as my genitalia. The tickling of the prostate gland has the possibility of triggering extremely intense orgasms in men. You might be surprised to know the prostate has the same density of nerves as the penis and, in some cases, even the penis glands. I heard It's exceptionally sensitive. To quote my male teacher, ‘If you've never had a prostate orgasm your missing out on a major life gift. It's the holy grail of orgasms to gay men.’ Honey, let’s just give it a try. I want to do this for you. If you don’t like it, we can stop at any time. Please let’s attempt it one time."

The two climbed into bed. Actually, George was pushed. Ellen climbed on him and cuddled for a while. She decided to take her seduction slow. She waited for a while to let George relax, then let her hand nonchalantly wander between his legs. Stopping there for a while, she eventually let her fingers lightly tease the area around his testes and slowly moved to his anus.

She wet her fingers with spittle. Her delicate touch revealed to George that his anus was in fact a sensuous area. He thought she just might be right about the other things she told him about enjoying this experience and decided to surrender himself to her ministrations. What did he have to lose other than his virginity?

Ellen slowly began by inserting two of her slim fingers in his long dark virgin hole. He grimaced at the invasion. His whole consciousness fixated on her actions. Her two fingers sunk deeper and into his ass. She felt the walnut-sized gland located between the bladder and the penis and adjacent to his rectum. With her fingertips, she gently massaged his prostate. After a while, he found he was moving to help her and was uttering little sighs. She inserted another finger and then another. His back gateway was now opened and relaxed. Ellen replaced her fingers with the wooden girl’s best friend encased in a lubricated condom. He felt a momentarily increase in pressure as she slid just the tip inside him to gage his reaction. When he didn’t object, she felt his sphincter muscle relax as it became accustomed to the foreign object. She firmly but slowly pushed the rest of the slender phallus up into Heather’s back door.

To George buried his face in a pillow, the pain was horrible and exquisite all at the same time. His first reaction was yelling "Stop"; but there was something terribly intimate about his wife violating his bodily waste escape hatch. He was completely overwhelmed by the barrage of sensations he was feeling. He lifted his face and tried to look at his wife.

He winced as she eased her wooden cock into him bit by bit. Ellen could tell from his expression that it hurt like hell. In response, she pulled it out a little before pushing it in again slowly, and a little further each time. He grimaced again. Ellen was patient. She repeated this pulling-out-and-pushing-in motion a couple of times until she finally managed to get the faux cock all the way in to the hilt. She held on to him tightly whispering sweet loving words as she slowly began to establish a steady rhythm. He was getting used to the size, and the pain of a few minutes earlier was slowly turning into toe-curling pleasure which was taking control of his entire body and mind.

As she pumped her little friend in and out, she found that she was also becoming more and more aroused, but in a different, more fundamental way than she normally felt during sex.

After an unmeasurable time, the pumping of the fax penis became the focus of George’s world. Finally, the tidal wave of pleasure crested and broke, sending a tingling spasm through every nerve of his being, and he was dimly aware of a liquid being discharged from his man thing as he climaxed. After Ellen finished milking her husband with the aid of her wooden dildo she asked, "So how was your first womanly orgasm? Of course, it isn’t exactly like us real women enjoy. It is as close as you will get unless you decide to turn your manly pole into a woman’s hole."

His pride wouldn’t let him answer truthfully. "I could get used to this if I had to. But I can’t ever see myself enjoying it," George lied. The smug shit-eating grin on his face told Ellen all she needed to know.

"Honey, that’s why I call this a girl’s best friend. It gives a woman pleasure and will never leave the toilet seat up or piss on the floor by mistake."

After their bedroom gymnastics, they both showered and got dressed for the trip home.

Ellen went to her closet and knelt to pull out the dress she was saving for Heather’s trip home. With his now immature breast development, the dress had to have a plunging neckline, to expose a demure amount of cleavage on Heather. Once he had it on, she knew this was the perfect outfit. With it on, his elegant décolletage was timidly displayed. Then she found the shoes that went with the dress, a pair of sexy, spike pumps in the exact shade of blue as the dress.

As expected, George griped about the towering toe cramping shoes.

She attempted a bit of levity to relive his anxiety, "Dear, Cinderella showed us girls a new pair of shoes can change our lives. These are the epitome of girlishness. Think of these as your glass slippers. That will get you through emigration and take you home."

Ellen sat him down and, with the skill of a surgeon and the talent of a renaissance artist, did his makeup. Once satisfied with her creation, she moved on to his hair. She had borrowed a hot curling iron from the hotel. After it was hot, she had recently bought she worked to wrap his hair and form large cylindrical curls all around his head from the crown to the neck line. As soon as she put the curling iron down, she started with a brush, pick and a can of hair spray. His face was framed by curls which fell to below his ears. His bangs consisted of one large half cylinder of curls.

Satisfied with his hair, she went to work on his face. She began dusting his face with powder to take off the shine, then a few brush strokes of blush finished the look. She penciled in some darkness on his eyebrows, further shaping them; she outlined his eyes with black eyeliner and feathered in color on the lids to accentuate his eyes. Then she outlined his lips with a dark plumb-red lipstick and filled it in with another redder color. She blotted his lips and pronounced. "Okay, I’m finished."

George gasped at his look, "Isn’t it a bit over the top?"

"Nonsense, when we get to the border, we don’t want some curious agent wondering about your gender. You are unquestionably looking like a hot tourist. No one would ever think there is a man under all that powder and paint."

George gathered up his toiletries, some lipstick and a hairbrush, and handed them to Ellen. "I don’t know. What happens if I get stopped at the border? Maybe I can just stay here until the man hunt is over."

"Don't tell me you're chickening out?"

"Logically, I know I am locked into this masquerade until we get home. I’m sorry, I am just scared. I need to pee before I have an accident."

"It’s probably best we both use the restroom now. You go first. I want to make a final sweep of the room to ensure we haven’t forgotten anything."

Ellen’s case was filled to overflowing, to make room for her makeup she impishly took her ‘girl’s best friend’ out of her purse along with a partially used box of lubricated condoms and hid then in the bottom of her protégés shoulder bag.

Ellen looked at her husband as he left the bathroom. "You know honey, I wouldn’t mind having my girlfriend Heather visit occasionally once we get home. I can always use a maid. To clean the house."

George was shocked at her attitude. "DON’T even think about me becoming your Suzy homemaker."

"No dear, of course not. I was thinking more along the lines of Heather being a kept woman and doing housework to fill her days.

“The way my business is going, I intend to get a full-time housekeeper to take care of the cleaning chores. Since you no longer have a job, you’re free to apply for the position. The pay isn’t much, but you will clean up on the benefits."

CHAPTER 14 - Just two illegals crossing the border

The hotel had a shuttle to the train station. The train left relatively on time and the trip was uneventful. Both girls were in full diva mode as they headed to the border check point. Ellen had hoped for a male guard, in her opinion women are far more observant about other women. Much to her disappointment, their interview was conducted by a stern looking middle-aged woman dressed in a drab green military style uniform. Ellen went first and her passport was given a careful examination. The guard went through her oversized purse with a professional thoroughness. She waved Ellen through. Ellen stood off to the side to wait on her traveling companion, her heart racing.

George stepped in front of the border guard. Heather flashed his brightest smile and willed himself to be calm. Heather’s well practiced girly hello in English was met with was a noncommittal grunt. The guard held up the passport picture next to Heather’s face and scrutinized it closely. Heather was questioned on the reason for her visit to Mexico and how long she had been there. Heather gave the same rehearsed answers Ellen had. The guard was obviously suspicious but didn’t find anything worth further investigation. Until she opened Heathers bag and rummaged through it, when she suddenly stopped and asked, "Miss does everything in this bag belong to you?" Heather nodded yes. The guard moved Heather behind a privacy screen. Then she called for her supervisor. Another woman who could have been a clone of the first showed up. The two had a whispered exchange.

The supervisor reached into the bag and asked, "Miss how do you explain this?" Heather was at a loss as to what could have been wrong. He had a flashback to the time he was framed for carrying drugs. The guard withdrew the wooden caved dildo and held it up like a trophy. She waited for Heather to say something. But the faux girl could think of nothing to say so he just stood there with flaming cheeks of red. It was the ultimate embarrassment. Despite the humiliation he felt relief it was only a sex toy they found this time.

It was a Mexican standoff; his face was beet red from embarrassment. Eventually George knew he had to say something, so in his best Heather voice he said, "It’s a souvenir to remind me of my vacation." That response produced a grin from both guards who could imagine how a young woman spent her vacation. She was waved through. "Alright Miss, you can go. Welcome home."

George blushed, and was becoming a little uncomfortable with the continued use of feminine pronouns. But then he guessed that is what he looked like at the moment. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…He'll just have to get used to it.

A shaken George found Ellen trying hard to withhold a giggle.

Ellen took Heather by the arm and the two crossed into the US where both breathed a sigh of relief. Ellen took Heather’s hand and said, "Well, we did it!"

George smiled, wiped the perspiration off his brow, and said, "Was there ever any doubt?"

They boarded the trolley that took then north to their rendezvous with Beth.

@ @ @ @

Beth drove to the airport, parked her car and rented an SUV to throw off anyone trailing her. She drove to the trolley station and waited for her brother and sister-in-law to arrive.

Beth recognized Ellen, but the woman with her looked like a total stranger. It wasn’t until they were at the car that Beth got a good look at the stranger and recognized her brother.

Beth hugged Ellen. "Welcome home." Then, pulling her brother’s leg, she added, "Who is your companion? I was expecting my brother. Didn’t he make it?"

Ellen fell in with the game. "I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Beth, I would like to introduce my traveling companion and paramour, Heather."

George was in no mood for this, He said "Knock it off. Just get me out of here. I can’t wait to get home." He was trying to sound firm, but to everyone’s surprise his voice was a soft soprano rather than the manly baritone Beth was expecting.

Beth merged into traffic and said, "I am afraid it isn’t safe for you my dear brother to go home yet. The police are still actively looking for you. Every time I drive past your house to check on the mail, I see a car with two men sitting in it, watching your neighborhood. I can’t prove it, but I think my phone is tapped.

"On top of that, I have been visited by the same FBI agent at least once a week, asking about both of you."

Ellen was scared, "What is George going to do? Why are the U.S. cops so interested in an American arrested for something as simple as attempting to smuggle a minuscule amount of cocaine?"

"I have no idea why you are public enemy # 1, dear brother. Whatever the reason, you are being actively sought by the authorities. Hell, I am on my FBI’s agent’s speed dial. We are on a first name basis.

“Knowing you were coming home; I have been doing a little research. After seeing my brother, I am sure my plan will work. I have found someplace George, as Heather, can live temporarily other than in my basement.

"My thought is let the law think that he is still in Mexico. The safest thing to do is have him drop off the grid completely until things quiet down. We will hide him someplace where the police will never think to look for him. No contact at all with his old life. No phone, no email, no internet."

Beth drove on explaining, "After we drop Ducky off, I will drive Ellen to my home where she can pick up her car and drive home. Ellen will have to play dumb when questioned about her husband’s whereabouts. Explaining her absence by saying that with her husband locked up for 10 years, she just needed to get away to clear her head."

From the back seat, George inquired, "Drop me off where? I am not liking this great plan."

"I wasn’t sure about my plan, but after seeing you as Heather, it was obvious it would work. Ellen, you told me he made a believable looking woman. Your description didn’t do him justice. Relax Ducky. Before you say no, hear me out. I have found a perfect solution to keep you from getting arrested. There is a motel near the main street mall that is advertising for help. Brace yourself brother, the position is for a maid."

There was a gasp from the back seat.

Beth looked over her shoulder and went on, "They aren’t paying much but the position offers room and board. George will have to continue to dress and act like a woman. He will get a job and hide in plain sight as Heather. The motel won’t be asking for any papers, their employees are almost exclusively illegals. They pay under the table in cash. He will earn enough to pay for his essentials. Plus, he will have a place to live, all the while staying off the grid. Nothing the authorities can use to trace back to him."

George interrupted, "Wait just one damn minute, you expect me to not only continue living as a female, but I will have to work as a maid again? I just got out of that situation and now you want to throw me back in that tarpit. I can’t seem to catch a break."

He continued to whine from the backseat, "All the hell I went through in Mexico was worth it because I was confident my problems were over once I crossed back into the States. Now I find I that have to continue running from the cops as a wanted man; but now I will be a wanted woman hiding from not only the cops, now I have to worry about being rounded up by ICE. I don’t think it can get worse."

Beth tried to lighten the moment as she teased, "Cheer up brother. With the way you look, you’ll either end up married or in a woman’s prison."

Ellen chastised her sister-in-law, "Beth, you are not helping. If you aren’t going to be helpful, please keep quiet."

In the back-seat, George was going through a huge roller coaster ride of emotions. The thought of continuing his female masquerade was terrifying, even if it was temporary. He tried one more time to talk his way out of this situation.

"Ellen, I can’t continue to do this. I have been lucky so far, now it is only a matter of time until my true gender will be exposed!"

Ellen was tired of George’s grumbling. She twisted in her seat so that she could make eye contact with her husband and, as sternly as she could, scolded him. "Ducky, I have had all I can take of you feeling sorry for yourself. Knock off the negative vibes baby, not only can you do this; but you will! Heed my words, our child is not going to grow up with his father rotting away in a stinking Mexico prison.

“Here is what you are going to do! You will continue being Heather and she will be the best damn maid this motel has ever had. You are more than qualified to perform your housekeeping duties. That only leaves maintaining a reasonably feminine appearance and attitude for a few more weeks."

George’s stomach was doing acrobatics while he was having heart palpitations. This was a tough decision to make on the spot. On the one hand, having to live his life scrubbing toilets as a lowly maid sounded positively revolting! Even if he had been doing that for the past several weeks.

He sat back in his seat and weighed the pro’s and con’s. He could do it. The question was did he want to. What initially seemed to be a difficult dilemma, with some serious thought turned out to be no decision at all. He had no alternative. Being sent back to a Mexican prison looking like a feminized man, would be a nightmare. He would be every prisoner’s bitch. He couldn’t survive that.

CHAPTER 15 - Once you’ve hit rock bottom there’s only one place you can go, and that’s up

"Tell me more about this motel. The last time I looked getting hired requires ID and a social security card."

Beth announced, "From what I hear, that is not a problem. The motel is known for hiring undocumented Latinos. With your swarthy skin coloring, you would blend right in; the manager won’t ask many questions. He is just interested in cheap labor."

Beth pleaded with her brother, "You will only be there until the authorities stop looking for you. Worse case a few weeks. You can do that, can’t you? So, you two can be together again."

"Sure, what’s a couple more weeks in a dress for a real man." He managed, with a hint of sarcasm and disappointment in his voice.

They pulled up in front of a tired looking motel. It’s major drawing cards seemed to be that it was near the area’s largest mall and had the lowest room rates in the town.

Beth opened Heather’s door so that he could get out explaining, "The manager wanted to interview Heather before he would hire her. He is expecting you."

The real ladies watched Heather stagger through the front door. Ellen and Beth fretfully waited in the car, Beth confessing that if this didn’t work out, she was out of ideas. Twenty-three long minutes later, Heather came out. The two conspirators waited, trying to read Heather’s body language. Rather than get into the car, Heather stuck her head in the passenger window. Both ladies asked at the same time, "Well did you get it?"

"Sure, he wasn’t impressed with my two-week experience at being a maid, but when he found out I was fluent in English, I got the job. I start first thing in the morning. There is one complication. My room is provided. But it isn’t a private room. It is more a dormitory situation; I will be sharing the room with three other maids. He wants me to move in tonight so that I will be ready for work first thing in the morning."

Ellen was horrified. She trusted her husband, but the thought of him living in close proximity to three women was not something she had anticipated. She was about to cancel the deal. She quickly tried to come up with options, nothing came to her. Like George she knew there were no alternatives.

If the situation was reversed and she was living with three men, celibacy would NOT be her first choice. For the sake of her unborn child, she would have to trust her husband.

Beth said, "Get in. We need to get you some clothes appropriate for your new position in life. There is a K-Mart up the street we will get you underwear, toiletries and a few dresses and several pair of comfortable shoes, and a purse. You won’t need a lot. I understand the motel furnishes their housekeeping staff with uniforms."

Ellen interjected, "There is one more thing we must get. The most hideous nightgowns we can find."

She wondered if they sold chastity belts, probably not. She would keep her eyes open for an adult sex shop between there and K-Mart.

Cursing the aisles of the box store, the women filled the cart with the necessities. George followed them, pushing the cart through the mature woman’s section, staring straight ahead. He was crestfallen as he watched the cart being filled with his new wardrobe. When the two women threw in a couple boxes of Ultra-thin pads with wings into the cart followed by a box of tampons, George was traumatized and thought he would die of mortification. He questioned the need with his eyes. Ellen seeing the look on his face cozied up next to him and explained it was for authenticity, after all Heather is a woman in the prim of her childbearing years. As such feminine sanitary items are required. He felt so ashamed at how emasculated he felt. But, given that he had essentially no choice in the matter, he resigned himself to needing these items for display only. After all, it was only for the next few weeks.

The last item in the cart was Ellen’s promised sleepwear. A candy cane striped one-piece footed pajama. Beth paid for everything with cash, with Ellen promising to repay her.

On the ride back to the motel, George asked the girls, "Will I hear from you at least, a phone call or a post card?"

Ellen was seated next to him in the back seat, rubbed his arm affectionately. "Honey, from what your sister says, her phone is being tapped, her mail is being read and she is probably being followed. For your safety, I think not. If Beth is under that kind of scrutiny, I imagine that I will be too once they find out I am home. You’ll have to be on your own. It’s better to be safe than sorry. I’ll try to find some way to communicate with you. Just to check up and ensure you’re safe. For the time being, you are going to be on your own. I am sure it won’t be long."

He wondered if he could stay sane, being left on his own forced to behave as a woman 24/7 without Ellen’s immediate support.

Heather teared up. Ellen hugged him tight even as she chastised him, "Now look at you, crying like a little girl."

She softened her attitude, "But that's okay dear, crying is what us girls do." She said with a supportive grin on her face. "Now pull up your big boy britches, you can wear panties a while longer."

An hour later, after going to the drive through at MacDonald’s they dropped a dejected Heather off at her place of employment. Heather walked in with slumped shoulders her total trousseau contained in four plastic bags and a cheap purse. At the door, he turned and gave his sister and wife a small hand wave. Unsure if he would ever see them again.

CHAPTER 16 - Housekeeping is like being caught in a revolving door. It never ends.

Once they were a good distance from the motel, Beth was stopped at a red light and said to Ellen, "My brother has changed, his appearance is more feminine than masculine. When did he decide to become a woman?" Beth gripped her hands under her breasts in the universal big-boobs gesture. "If I didn’t know better, I would say my brother had grown breasts.

"It’s a long story, let’s go home and have a cup of tea and I will explain it all to you."

Beth retorted, "Seeing my brother with boobs. I am going to need something stronger than tea."

"Let me assure you Beth, your brother's physical changes are not voluntary. In fact, the way he has handled everything that has happened to him in prison and afterward has shown me he is more of a man than any 'manly' man I have ever known."

In Beth’s kitchen, Beth finished a bottle of wine while Ellen stuck to herbal tea. The women had a nice long talk. Ellen laid out their entire saga, including Heather's date with Philip. Much to Beth’s astonishment. At the end of the night, they had gone through a flood of tears and a box of tissues. Beth had a new appreciation for her brother and vowed to do anything she could to help the couple.

@ @ @ @

Heather settled into her job as a maid easily, it wasn’t a lot different from the resort. He had lived with Ellen but it didn’t prepare him for what he experienced living with three women at the same time. Even with his limited language skills, he often found himself playing referee, confidante, little sister, or student. Sometimes all at the same time. As his Spanish proficiency grew, the stories he heard from his roommates, over their evening meal of corn tortillas and refried beans, would make a sailor blush. On weekends, they would sit in their room and share a pitcher of Margaritas, with chips and salsa. To George, Ellen and Beth were his family. As Heather, he found himself beginning to think of these women as his extended family. As time went on, he found himself being absorbed more and more into a feminine lifestyle. In addition to feeling more Hispanic every day. He was even attending Sunday Mass with his roommates and coming home to watch soccer matches on Univision on a small black and white television.

George never had any siblings, now he had three older sisters. Unfortunately, his three sisters were determined to fix him up with a man. They were fervent in their search. They let every single man staying at the motel know that Heather was available and looking for a date.

This led to Heather getting a few unwanted phone numbers, numerous offers for a date, and several lewd propositions.

Under unrelenting pressure from her roommates, Heather held out for almost two months. After that time and hearing nothing from his sister or wife he was very venerable and a little desperate. Eventually he gave up and accepted an invitation to dinner arranged by his roommates from a distinguished looking gentleman. He was in his late 30’s and was wearing a wedding ring, so Heather thought he would be safe. He wasn’t the best-looking man that had pursued Heather, but he had hypnotic eyes that seemed to draw a person in. George wasn’t interested in men. Heather on the other hand had some confusing thoughts about his gender identity and found the idea of a real date intriguing. Besides, the thought of a free American meal was tempting. This brought back bad memories. But being free to communicate this time, he hoped for a better ending.

The location couldn’t be any place fancy or romantic; Heather’s only dressy outfit was what he wore on his escape from Mexico. His roommates spent several hours prepping Heather for her date. One girl, Rose, worked exclusively on her hair, another, Claudia, her nails, and Angel was the most talented at makeup. They all worked miracles on Heather. When she was done, in Heather’s opinion, he came out looking like he could be modeling for Vogue. Rose ironed the dress and polished a pair of classy heels, that the maids had liberated from a motel guest. Once Heather was encased in her dress, Heather asked her friends, "Well ladies, what do you think?"

To Heather, the outfit was a tad provocative. From his perspective, the dress must have shrunk when it was cleaned, his breasts now appeared huge and threatened to escape from the now tight-fitting bodice. He wondered if his friends hadn’t secretly done some alterations on the dress. If he remembered correctly, the top was a tad low cut and a bit loose the last time he had worn it. Now it was too tight on top and at the hips. It seemed to exaggerate the plumpness of his assets. Looking down, he thought he could detect his boobs putting the stitching of the bodice under real duress. The last thing he needed on this date was a wardrobe malfunction. The mere thought sent a shiver down his spine.

The conspirators gathered in a circle, discussing in whispered tones the success of their efforts. They all assured Heather that she looked gorgeous. They addressed her concerns about her breasts by assuring her it merely made her look no longer like a niña; but now as a pretty señorita.

Heather wasn’t convinced but accepted their enthusiastic assurances and went with it. The four waited nervously for Heather’s date to knock on their door.

When it finally came Heather jumped. On the second knock, Heather took a deep breath and walked to the door and welcomed his date in. He introduced Tim to his roommates, much to their delight he called them his sisters.

They were giddy as they watched their little sister walk out the door on the arm of her date.

The couple ended up going to a local steak house. Heather had a huge steak with all the trimmings, which she found that she was unable to finish. She put it in a doggie bag, thinking that there was enough there for a good lunch on Sunday.

During dinner, Tim was a perfect gentleman. Although he made it a point to keep her wine glass full. As a man dressed like a woman, he really should have remained sober all evening, worried about what people would think, as a woman he decided to just let go and enjoy himself. He gleefully consumed the sweet tasting fermented grape. By the time they decided to call it a night, George was a bit tipsy. He had to hang onto Tim’s arm to get back to the car. Tim must have misunderstood her clinging to him.

Tim walked Heather to her room at the motel. At the door, as she fumbled in her purse for her key, Tim took the opportunity to grab her arms and pull Heather in for a passionate goodnight kiss. Their lips were locked in tongue searching passion. The kiss went on for what felt like an eternity to George. When Tim finally pulled away, he calmly asked Heather if she would like to come to his room for a nightcap. Heather's breathing was labored, making words hard to find. He managed to thank him for the lovely night but firmly decline the invitation. Heather escaped into his room. The kiss confirmed to him what he suspected, despite the way his body had been transformed, in his mind he was in no way attracted to men. Inside, he found the ladies all waiting for him. He had to endure 20 minutes of an inquisition from his roommates concerning his date. They weren’t happy with his answers, but at least they stopped trying to set her up with men until she had matured a little more. They decided they could be patient; time was on their side.

Several weeks later, Ellen showed up at the motel unannounced. She rented a room for the night. She roamed the halls until she found George coming out of a room.

She rushed up to him and said, "I need to talk to you. Are you free?"

CHAPTER 17 - Do you know what I did to the last person that called me Tinkerbelle? I slept with him.

"I have one more room to do. Let me ask Angela if she can cover for me."

"They’ll do that for you?"

"Yes, we are all friends, they have taken me under their wings. Four of us sharing a double room. We have become close out of necessity."

Ellen had a ton of questions to ask about the four in a small room together.

She asked the most obvious one. "What are your sleeping arrangements?"

He answered calmly, "Why two per bed. Why do you ask?"

Ellen was unnerved, "I don’t like you sharing a bed with another woman."

George wasn’t completely clueless he liked the idea of his wife being jealous. "Honey, you have to understand that we are just friends. There is no way there could be any hanky-panky it’s like we are sisters.

"I will admit keeping my secret has been a bit of a challenge; but so far I am handling it. Despite the lack of privacy, I have managed to keep my true sex hidden from them."

Stepping into the room Ellen had rented, she dragged George with her. She looked around the room and commented, "This place is really a dump."

Heather took offense at that. "We prefer to think of it as quaint," George replied.

George, over the shock of Ellen showing up after months of not hearing anything, asked, "Not that I am complaining, but why are you here? Isn’t this dangerous?"

"Yes, but I was careful. I drove to the mall and took a cab here. I have to talk to you."

"What’s the matter honey?"

"It’s the baby, I thought I’d lost it?"

"OMG, what happened?"

"Two weeks ago, I was rushed to the ER as I was sure I was having a miscarriage. But thanks be to God that is not what happened."

"It turns out it was pre-eclampsia. They did an ultrasound and checked the fluid levels to determine the health of the fetus. Everything checked out."

"The doctor told me everything will be alright as long as I get plenty of bed rest, reduce my salt intake, drink more water, and make regular visits to the doctor."

"Are you alright? You must have been devastated."

"At the time I didn’t think I would survive. I was a nervous wreck. I needed you, but was afraid to contact you. To make things worse, the doctor insists I give up my Saturday morning with Derrick. I rely on him for support. There is no way I could stand losing you the baby and Derrick at the same time."

"What did you do?"

"I tried to suck it up. That didn’t work very well. Your sister, Beth, Nancy and of course Derrick were there for me, they saved my sanity, we have frequent get togethers at our house. They are my support group."

When George heard the name Derrick again, it made his heart thud to a stop, then it began to race wildly.

George thought his heart would surly explode as he put his hands lightly on his wife’s shoulders and gazed deeply into her eyes. "Ellen, I love you more than life. My soul aches thinking someone else was there for you and not me.

"This Navy Seal of yours, Derrick. Tell me more about him. You seem to be very close to him."

Ellen sighed and got a dreamy like expression on her face. "He has the bluest eyes you have ever seen. You can get lost in them when he stares at you.

"Overall he is a brute of a man with a barrel chest and arms as big as most men’s legs. Regrettably, he is not Mensa material but don’t underestimate him. He's tough as nails and street smart."

Then she broke into a smile and went on, "Yet he can be as gentle as the morning mist. Yes, we have become very good friends."

"In fact, as a thank you for all he has done for me. I had him over to the house for a barbeque and pool party last weekend."

"Pool party?"

"Yes, that’s right. I haven’t told you that I have had a major remodel down to our house. I had a nursery room added to the house and a pool with hot tub put in. My business has really taken off. My cash flow is really good at the moment. I thought a pool and hot tub would be a good investment."

"Anyway, you should have seen Derrick in his swim trunks. With that body, he looked like a Greek god and he can swim like a fish. I don’t think I could have gotten through these last months without him he has been my rock. He has been especially nice, he consoled me in my time of need."

"I bet he did. Isn’t that the job of the child’s father?"

Storm clouds formed in Ellen’s eyes, "What did you say?"

"You heard me!"

Ellen slapped him across the face. Hard enough to leave a red mark. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing again, after all I have done for you! Besides, in case you didn’t notice, my husband was nowhere around. He was off playing dress up as a maid."

George wasn’t going to be cowed that easily. "What do you expect? Every time we talk it is Derrick this, Derrick that."

Ellen also stood her ground, "Why don’t you ask the real question you have been hinting about. Have I been sleeping with Derrick? Just be careful. Don’t ask a question if you aren’t prepared to handle the answer. Unless you’ve got the balls to ask, take my word for it. He’s just a friend."

The first thing that popped into his head was the phrase, ‘a Friend with benefits’.

George didn’t look convinced, so she went on, "Granted he’s a very good friend."

"I bet he is."

"Damn you George, you don’t understand. Just before I came down to break you out, he became engaged. His fiancée's name is Nancy, that is why he spends so much time at the shop. Once they were engaged, I would never poach a man away from Nancy."

George lost it, fearing he had irrevocably damaged their relationship and collapsed in a torrent of tears, apologizing over and over again. Pleading with Ellen to forgive him.

Ellen was more than willing to get away from discussing her relationship with Derrick and decided to forgive him and move on. She wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to be intimate with her husband.

"Okay, Tinkerbell. Lose that ugly uniform and join me in bed. I need a night of cuddles. Get into bed and just hold me. I am sorry, but the doctor told me that sex is a No-no for the time being."

The two spent the night just holding each other. George wanted to do more; but didn’t want to do anything to endanger the child. Laying in his arms, Ellen promised she would contact him when she could. She related how the police have been to their home several times, each time asking if she knew his whereabouts as they needed to talk to him.

The next morning, Ellen sneaked out before sunup, not wanting a painful goodbye.

He woke up and found the other half of the bed as empty as his soul. Heather went back to his domestic chores with a heavy heart.

Heather’s emotions were a jumble for the next few days. Alternating between euphoria after seeing his wife for the first time in months and depression realizing he was condemned to remain as an undocumented maid for an undetermined period. He retreated into himself and spent all his free time curled up under the covers of his bed.

His roommates attributed his stand-offish mood to PMS and assumed Heather was having a bad menses.

As it turned out, he wouldn’t see Ellen again for several long months.

CHAPTER 18 - Good sex is like the bridge card game. If you don't have a good partner, you'd better have a good hand.

Ellen was shopping at the mall on a Sunday afternoon. Her pre-eclampsia was under control for the present. She had just finished looking for a new dress that would accommodate her expanding belly. Sadly, her ability to wear a size 8 was a long way in the rear-view mirror. Whenever she shopped it was with a vengeance. Today she gave off the air of a socialite just browsing.

Her baby bump was clearly showing, as too was her engorged breasts. She needed something to handle her ballooning dimensions. Not finding any dress she liked, she drifted to the lingerie section. She was browsing in the intimate’s collection at the May Company, realizing it wasn’t only her waist that would continue to grow in the coming months. She headed to the brassier collections figuring if she could find a bra at least, her trip wouldn’t be a total loss. She looked up and noticed a woman who seemed out of place at such an upscale store. The interloper was standing on the other side of the display table dressed in worn levies and a faded blouse, sorting through the sale selections. She was only a few feet away her head was down concentrating on the merchandise. Her longish brown hair covered her face. There was something eerily familiar about her. Then the woman unexpectedly raised her head, and made eye contact with Ellen.

Ellen’s heart skipped a beat, unable to contain herself Ellen uttered, "My god it is you! Isn’t it Georrrr…Heather?"

Heather looked up and saw his wife and was delirious with joy. She just stood there as if in shock. A tsunami of hope flooded his system. He studied her intently and was not surprised to see her pregnancy was showing with his baby. Her outfit showed off a tanned, well-toned body. She was immaculately dressed and coiffed. His first hope was she sought him out because his exile was over and he could come home, it had been a long few months since he had last seen his wife. With a grin, the size on the Grand Canyon, he rushed to her side, and replied to her greeting in his best girly voice, "Yes, it is. It’s great to see you!"

Then, with hope in his heart, he asked, "Why are you here?"

Ellen smugly replied in a voice loud enough for the bystanders to hear, "Apparently doing the same thing you are shopping for a new bra."

Patting her tummy, she added with a grin, "Our little friend is causing me to grow in more than one place. I need something larger."

Georges shoulders drooped in disappointment.

His euphoria at hoping to go home went out the window, as he confided softly, "I had hoped you were here to take me home."

"Sorry, not yet. The police continue to stop by weekly asking if I have heard from you. I keep telling them no."

"So, we will have to continue living apart for a while longer."

"Isn’t there something you can do?"

"I did check with our lawyer, he said as long as the Mexican police have a warrant out for you, you can still be arrested and extradited."

The news was devastating. It had been a few months since they had last been together. To George, Ellen looked like a million dollars, she was tanned and dressed like she had just come from church. Her makeup was immaculate. If she had changed, it was for the better. He longed to take her in his arms and just hold her.

As Ellen took stock of her husband’s appearance, she was alarmed. Aside from hair that rested on his shoulder, what was also immediately apparent was the decided increase in the size of his chest. That could be explained away by padding but wasn’t so explainable was the increased mass of his ass. She wondered what was going on.

Ellen sauntered up close, "You’ve changed. I love your hair; it is certainly getting long."

His hand went to his hair unconsciously.

With his eyes cast down, "Thanks, do you really like it. My roommates have helped me style it."

Trying to be unobtrusive, she picked up a bra off the table and pretended to be examining it, then phrased her question delicately, "Miss, what size are you shopping for? Maybe I can help you pick something out."

He blushed all the way to his ears as he responded, "I’m not sure, I was just looking for anything on sale. My old ones just don’t fit anymore. Either they have all shrunk or I have out grown them."

That took her breath away. When he confessed, he was there to buy a bigger bra, not just replace a worn out one, she knew something was seriously wrong.

"You mean you haven’t been measured? How can you be assured you’re getting a proper fit?"

"I was just going to find a bra in the next size up from my last one. "I’m just a low paid domestic looking for a deal. I couldn’t get help in here if I asked for it."

"That’s horse puckey! You’re still my husband."

At that several heads turned so she immediately realized her faux pas and corrected herself, "You’re still my husband’s housekeeper. I am going to treat you."

Ellen who was expensively dressed flagged down a sales lady named Dorothy, according to her name tag, with the snap of her fingers.

She ordered the clerk to measure her friend so she could be assured of a proper fit. The three went to the nearest changing room. The last time she had seen George as 'Heather,’ he had been awkward and ill at ease. Now he was presenting as a relaxed female.

Dorothy directed Heather to strip. Never having been measured for a bra, he assumed she meant everything. Heather dropped her jeans then her blouse. To Ellen’s disappointment, he was wearing plain white ‘Haines Her Way’ cotton briefs. His bra appeared to be the K-Mart special she bought him when he went to work as a motel housekeeper. Dorothy helped him off with his bra. She took the old bra and, in disgust, threw it into the corner. She took her tape and measured Heather after ordering her to stand up straight and keep her hands down and away from her sides.

Seeing the size and shape of the mammary glands on her husband, Ellen’s hand flew over her mouth, her eyes just about popped out of her head.

Ellen watched with amused excitement. Heather's cheeks glowed bright red during the process. The sales assistant was very professional and ignored the unfeminine lump that was below the client’s waist. She lectured, "Miss, when selecting your bra size, you want the bra band to be just comfortably tight around your body and the straps adjusted to just hold the weight of your breasts."

"It looks like you require a standard 38B brassiere. Although depending on the manufacturer you might require a C cup."

Ellen was flabbergasted that he was now a full B cup. His womanly spheres would be a major disappointment to most woman. But to Ellen, all she saw was that Heather had two beautiful womanly fleshy globes on his chest. Ellen gawked and had a hypnotic fascination with his womanly breasts and their nipples, as big and ripe as strawberries.

She estimated he hadn’t gained any weight; his waist was no more than a slim 28 inches. Once she was able to talk, she told the clerk to go find some bras in the correct size and bring them back for Heather to try on.

The clerk asked, "What kind are you looking for?"

"Don’t be a ninny, can’t you see my friend works for a living. Get her something practical but comfortable, and don’t worry about the cost. I want only the best for her. Is that clear?"

The sales lady nodded and as the clerk was about to exit the door, Ellen had a wicked thought and stepped out and closed the door, she softly directed, "My friend’s pert breasts could use a little help if you know what I mean? Find the sexiest most feminine underwire padded pushup bra you’ve got, Bordelle if you have it, don’t worry about the cost I want the best you have."

"Yes, ma’am it will take me a few minutes."

Ellen returned to the fitting room and closed the door then she pushed George into a corner with her hands on his chest. "Now tell me what kind of problems have you been having living as a woman in a room full of young females? Maybe I can help you with some of them."

After careful thought, he replied, "Not too many. The mornings are the worst. Making myself presentable. Waiting my turn to use the bathroom and getting my underwear on without divulging my secret. I don’t have to do it very often but shaving my legs and under arms is a real pain. With my hair this long, it gives me a few problems, I have to spend some time brushing it, eliminating any knots. To look presentable and feminine, I only use a little mascara and lipstick for makeup. I have experimented with a little eye makeup, but for the most part have avoided it, trying not to stand out any more than I have to. I am taller than the other ladies, so I have stuck with flats exclusively, which my feet appreciate."

Ellen listened to his complaints and offered, "Honey, I can get you some strong depilatory cream, it will eliminate your need to shave for up to 6 weeks. What do you think?"

"That would help some, but aren’t there side effects?"

"Yes, all depilatory creams can cause dryness, itching, rash and sensitivity. Also common is the feeling of having a slight sunburn."

George said, "Let me think about it and get back to you on it."

With one hand still firmly clamped on his left breast, she proclaimed, "When we were last together you had a prepubescent figure, now you look like a mature woman. Buster, you got some ‘splainin’ to do! Has it something to do with your living arrangements?"

George couldn’t make eye contact with Ellen, not wanting to get his friends in trouble he took a few minutes to compose his answer.

"It’s the result of my friends and their efforts to help me. Let’s call it unintended consequences. Four of us maids live in close proximity and share a bathroom. They look on me as their younger sister. They do everything they can to help me, even when I don’t want their help. I have been conscientious about hiding my sexual organ. I could only do so much, it was impossible to hide my tiny breasts. The ladies teased me about their size. Being single and never dating they thought it was because I lacked self-confidence as a result of my underdevelopment."

Ellen didn’t like where this was going yet she continued to keep her hand on his breast. George was finding it hard to concentrate. He took a deep breath and went on, "My first indication that something was wrong was when my chest started to hurt. At first, I thought the pain was from chaffing from my bras. I changed laundry detergent, but that didn’t help. I tried to ignore the irritation but it kept getting worse. When the pain didn’t go away, I knew something else was going on. Aside from my chest issues my emotions went berserk and I began experiencing hot flashes. I had wild mood swings and would cry over nothing. Then the night of my date, when the dress I wore home from Mexico was now too tight in the bodice."

The word ‘date’ got Ellen’s attention, but George just glossed over it like it was nothing.

He continued, "I knew something fishy was going on. So, I confronted my roommates and they confessed they had all conspired to help me. They sent home for ‘medicine’ to corrected my womanly deficiencies. They admitted they were spiking my meals three times a day with high doses of Mexican produced estrogen."

Ellen asked, "You’re a smart individual. What did you think was happening?"

"As a man, I never paid any attention to what women go through. My biology education never got past dissecting frogs; I wasn’t in the girl's health class."

Ellen smiled at his naiveté. "Dear, any teenaged girl knows that kind of pain is the result of skin stretching from its sudden growth."

George answered truthfully, "That explanation never entered my mind. My boobs didn't look much bigger, but they sure hurt like hell. But that was only part of it. My nipples itched to the point of distraction. Now it all makes sense."

As he gestured to his body, "You can see what it has done to me. Aside from the added fat on my chest, I have some other really bad news."

Now it was Ellen’s turn to hold her breath. She hadn’t recovered from the revelation her husband had a date. She was terrified, George was going to reveal he was leaving her for some man.

"Go on you can tell me anything."

George stared at the door to ensure Dorothy couldn’t hear. He sheepishly stated, "I’m afraid my manly python has gone dormant. I have tried to masturbate when I am alone. But nothing happens. I have never felt less like a man."

Ellen could breathe again, she glibly relied, "Oh that’s all. I was afraid it was something serious."

Heather was in no mood for humor. He stood stoic. Ellen took his face in her hands she announced, "My love for you is not focused on your genitals. It’s what’s inside you that counts. We’ll get you to the best doctors around once this is over."

George relaxed and went on, "Within my limited Spanish skills, I made it clear I didn’t want their help and it had to stop. I am almost sure my food is now drug free, but I have my suspicions they haven’t ceased completely."

Ellen was amazed that his lexicon was now more feminine, his speech was in a much higher pitch and softer almost in the contralto range. She rationalized it was only natural after months of talking that way all the time. She wondered if he would ever sound like a man again. Her thoughts were interrupted when he went on.

"Ellen, I’ve accepted my lot in life as a lowly chamber maid. I have settled into the rhythms of being a domestic in a rundown motel. Like the other illegal aliens, I work with, I am in constant fear of a raid by the government. Seeing as how I have no identification; I have no idea where I would end up. It has made me a changed person. First off, I have to live with the fear of being discovered as a man, secondly, being an undocumented alien and deported to who knows where. You can’t imagine the kind of pressure I live under. I really missed you and felt abandoned emotionally. I had no choice but to embraced the only structure I had in my life, George couldn’t continue in that life. To keep my sanity, I was forced to emotionally morph full time into Heather.

"I am so sorry; I look like this. I have tried to remain the man you married. Living full time as a woman all these months has transformed me psychologically as well as physically. Every week my manhood seems to slip further and further away. At times, it seems to be just a fond memory."

Ellen absurdly responded, "George, you were always man enough for me and I suspect you still are." All the while, both of her hands were fondling his breasts, that were sending jolts of pleasure through him.

She smiled sympathetically, her hands having moved up and rested on his shoulders in a caring manner. "Don’t be sorry I think you look simply fantastic!"

A knock on the door announced Dorothy’s return.

She passed in two white cotton Bali bras. Ellen helped Heather try them on. Ellen spent an inordinate amount of time ensuring they were settled properly. Her intimate ministrations made Heather squirm. His breasts had become one of his erogenous zones. After adjusting the straps, Ellen announced loud enough for Dorothy to hear, "The brassieres are a perfect fit and very sensible for a working girl even if aesthetically they are not very sexy. Just the kind of thing we are looking for. Good job Dorothy."

Dorothy again knocked on the door and handed Ellen another bra. "Is this the kind of thing you were thinking about?" she asked.

Ellen’s eyes lit up at what she was seeing. "Yes, exactly thank you."

Ellen turned to her hubby and said, "Take off that blah thing and let’s try on something a bit spicier and see how it fits." With a grin, she held the bra out in front of him. "Now, just slip your arms through." she said in a very 'matter-of-fact' tone of voice. When he hesitated and it appeared, he wasn’t going to cooperate. Ellen ordered, "Now stop stalling. Put your arms out so I can put this on you." She said this time with impatience in her voice.

He thought right away of just refusing, but she looked at him with her deep brown eyes and he was powerless. In his deepest consciousness, he was beginning to realize that he would do just about anything his wife wanted him to do.

He nearly died of mortification having his wife dress him in a sexy bra. He reluctantly lifted his hands and slipped them into the loops. Ellen pulled the straps across his back and fastened them at the tightest setting. To George it seemed to be a very snug fit unlike his more comfortable normal bras. She adjusted the shoulder straps to lift the bra up slightly as he faced the wall.

Ellen with glee in her voice directed, "Now turn around and let me see."

Ellen was totally enraptured at what she saw before her. The lesbian attraction for her husband that she felt in Mexico had just come back with a vengeance.

Dorothy discreetly backed out of the door, figuring her work was done here. An astonished George stood rigidly immobile while Ellen played with his bra. She pulled and adjusted the elastic band that clamped around his chest, until they tightly encased his fleshy globules and pulled them up so they stood straight out, with no droop at all.

Ellen was taken aback by the realization this creature standing before would have been stiff competition for the wet t-shirt contest she had participated in while in college.

Ellen was probably not the most objective person, but looking through her rose colored glasses, she saw before her the embodiment of her sorority sisters.

Ellen could see it was a perfect fit, the under wire lifted his boobs and made it appear he was a full cup size larger. The black satin cups sat against his chest smoothly with no hint of a wrinkle. Ellen turned him so he was in silhouette and was facing the mirror. She loved the small satin bow situated between the cups. It was there purely for aesthetics but made it so utterly feminine.

She no longer saw a man dressed in a woman’s clothes to hide from the cops. What she now saw was that her husband standing before her with a pair of perky naturally shaped breasts similar to the ones immortalized in the ancient Greek statue known as the Venus de Milo. With their hard-erect nipples. They were very erotic and heavenly. Just sitting there begging to be gently kissed and caressed.

She turned away to make sure the door was closed tightly. When she turned her attention back to Heather, she saw him staring at himself in front of the dressing room mirror.

What George was really doing was trying to come to terms with what he now considered his split personality. He was confused, he had no desire to become a woman but had to admit he liked the way he looked, as a man he was always disappointed in his appearance. In fact, in these foundation garments, he was captivated by the way the light shone on the black satin bra and the way it made his breasts look so suggestive. It was the sexist piece of lingerie he had ever seen. George let loose a breath of air he had involuntarily been holding in.

After the sexy bra was in place, Heather turned to face his wife, "What do you think?"

"I think it’s just the thing every well-dressed husband needs to fill out his wardrobe." She teased with a trace of a sarcastic smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

"Why would I want something so sexy?" asked George.

"Now that you are dating, every girl needs sexy underwear." His wife snapped back smiling with obvious sarcasm.

George knew he would have to explain about his date before things got weird between them.

Before he could organize a coherent response, Ellen slid her hands around his waist and drew him to her. They kissed soft and tenderly.

She firmly pressed her lips against his, her tongue slipped into his mouth as she eagerly pulled him closer until their breasts mashed deliciously against each other.

They stood there necking like two hormone crazed teenagers. Suddenly, there was a polite cough at the door. Dorothy peeked in and asked if there was anything else, she could do for them. Her eyes were smiling and friendly, without even a hint of the aloofness or judgement. Heather slowly got dressed, which gave him a chance to calm down. Ellen insisted Heather keep that bra on even though it showed beneath his blouse.

Heather fidgeted with his bra straps, trying to make his breasts comfortable in his new pushup bra.

George evaluated his position. "Ellen what have you done to me. This bra really squeezes and lifts my breasts and is very uncomfortable. Worst of all, it makes my girls look so large. I have become accustomed to people staring at my legs, now they'll be staring at my chest with this bra!"

Ellen laughed. "Welcome to the world of women's fashion! As you've learned, our clothes were not designed with comfort in mind. They're intended exclusively to attract men. I'm sure that when you were just plain old George you leered at many women with short skirts and big boobs, but now the shoe's on the other foot, it's your turn to be the sex object!"

That really scared him. "I had never considered, the fact that men might be ogling me. I have always felt like a plain Jane. Convinced no one would find me sexually attractive."

Ellen couldn’t help herself, she loved teasing him and did a theatrical sigh and patted him on the arm. "You poor naïve soul, welcome to my world Heather. Millions of women have learned to deal with it, and now that you are properly supported and look like a well-built woman you will just have to get accustomed to it too."

George replied, "Only until I can drop this feminine subterfuge and go back to being a man again."

Ellen smiled at her husband’s gullibility. On the way to the cash register, they walked past a display of balconette underwire bras, it was a temptation she couldn’t pass up. She slowed down and stopped at the display and nonchalantly selected a white one in Heather's size and added it to her pile. They went to pay for everything.

George was miserable at the thought of Ellen leaving him gain. He thought Ellen would say good-bye and leave him to find his own way home. They were walking side by side after paying. George was waiting for her to turn and head to the exit. Instead, with uncharacteristic impulsiveness, Ellen took his hand and pulled him with her as she said, "You don’t think I’m going to let this serendipitous meeting go to waste, do you? We’re spending the night together."

"Where can we go that will be safe?" A confused George wondered out loud.

"I was thinking your motel. I’ll rent a room and we can get reacquainted. I’ll leave my car here and we’ll take a cab so we can be sure we aren’t being followed."

"My motel. There is no way I can get in without being recognized."

"You are such a foolish child, you underestimate me. Heather, you can be so ditzy. Are you sure you’re not a blonde? Let me worry about that. Just be a good girl and follow me."

On the way to the parking lot, Ellen led them first through the perfumery section. Using the sample bottles, she gave Heather a heavy dousing of a sweet flowery perfume. Then she bought two plain scarves, which covered their heads in an amateurish attempt at a disguise. They headed to the parking lot where there was a taxi stand. Ellen flagged down a cab and they took it to Heather’s motel. On the ride over, Ellen’s hand rested on Heather's thigh and slowly worked her way up toward the promised land. Before it could find the land of milk and honey, their ride pulled into the motel parking lot. Heather remained in the cab while Ellen registered at the front desk, paying with cash. Heather got out of the cab and used her scarf much like a Muslim hijab to cover her face. Ellen got the key and led them to their room. As she was getting settled, she sent Heather to her room to gather whatever things she would need for the night and bring them back to their love nest.

He got lucky he got to his room undetected and found the room empty. He quickly gathered up all his personal items, throwing everything into an empty trash bag. He managed to get back to the room without seeing anyone he knew. Ellen was bathing when he returned. He put his personal items that he had snuck out of his communal quarters and stuffed the bag under the bed. As he was standing up, Ellen walked out of bathroom and headed to the bed where she turned down the covers. She gave him a smoldering over the shoulder look that promised a night of passionate sex.

"Ducky, we only have this short time to be together. Let’s not worry about tomorrow. Go shower then join me in bed. We need to make up for lost time."

After a quick shower, he returned this time without towels covering his privates, only one around his chest. As he stopped next to her. Ellen reached up and discarded the towel that was ostensibly to cover his areas of maidenly modesty.

She pulled him on to the bed. Where she lovingly caressed Heather’s chest.

With a victorious grin on her face she exclaimed, "By the way honey. I think your boobs are magnificent, with or without that sexy bra. Please don’t be self-conscious about them around me. Rather than a turn off, I find them an aphrodisiac."

To prove her point Ellen nursed on his tits until his nipples were swollen and rock hard. Heather obviously enjoyed the attention as he was squirming all over the bed. Ellen had to hold him on the bed at one point where he almost worked his way off the mattress. Having had her fill of the preliminaries she reached between his legs where she found the prize she wanted! Her husband's magic stick! She worked her way down his body until she arrived at her objective. She sucked and licked until her mouth got tired. With his hormone treatment, erections were rare. She only got a small rise out of his little stub.

George apologized. "It has been like that for over a month. I’m afraid there is a permanent out of order sign on my little man. No matter how hard I try it doesn’t respond anymore. It still feels good, but stops at good, if you know what I mean?"

She returned to nursing on his boobies. Ellen was curious how anyone could go for prolonged periods without sexual release so she inquired, "Honey, if you can’t masturbate what do you do for relief? As we discussed in Mexico, I have heard that it can be unhealthy for fluid to build up in the prostate," she said. "I know how I can deal with that.

George got quiet and stared at the door. "You’ll think less of me. At first, I masturbated. Now I play with my tits, they really feel nice and I found if I insert that woman’s best friend you left in my purse, just the right way, it hits a spot that sends me over the top."

Ellen felt terrible that he would think there was anything wrong with giving in to a biological need. "Of course, I don’t think any less of you. Hell, if I did, I would be the world’s biggest hypocrite. On nights when I am alone in bed, I have my own woman’s friend in the night stand next to my bed. Believe me it gets a real workout."

Ellen asked "Where do you keep your little friend?". He reached under the bed where his stuff was and brought it out. He embarrassingly handed it to her. She could see it was well worn.

She kissed him tenderly on the lips and purred into his ear. "Do you want to show me how that works? Or better yet could I show you?"

"No thanks, I want to do you like we did in Mexico with my tongue. I have so missed that. Please let’s leave it at that, at least for now."

That was all the incentive she needed. She had so missed his talented mouth. He started by lovingly nursing on her pussy while he simultaneously played with her breasts. After an hour of hedonistic pleasure, she was sated and fully pleasured for the first time in weeks. They took a short nap and were about to repeated their performance. Only this time Ellen intended to put the girl’s best friend to good use on her lover.

She got a very serious look on her face and addressed her husband, "Dear from what you have told me, it appears your testicles may not be working. On the other hand, you still have a prostate. And that is where the semen is produced. Will you put yourself in my hands tonight?"

Not sure where she was going, he merely nodded his consent.

"Let me see if we can repeat our Mexican experience. We have no idea how much longer we will be separated. I want to give you a night we both will remember."

She picked up the dildo and inserted it in her love canal to get it lubricated with her juices. She lovingly placed it at his tender place, what she thought of tonight as his manly equivalent to a woman’s love canal. When he didn’t pull away, she slowing worked it into him. Watching his reactions, she knew immediately when the head of fax penis touched his prostate gland. He about came off the bed. She pumped it with a steady slow rhythm. He became sweaty and was panting but was glowing. She maneuvered where she could also nurse on his breasts and still reach his backside. She began massaging his nipples, sending him into orgasmic delight. Eventually Heather squealed, "Oh my God I haven’t felt a sexual sensation like that since you did that to me during our Mexican sabbatical, thank you."

Afterwards they lay in bed holding one another, exhausted, but satisfied. They talked. And talked. And talked some more.

George felt uncomfortable with nothing on. He got up and redressed in his bra and panties then nestled into this powerful, beautiful, fragrant woman and drifted off into the best sleep of his life.

Just before dawn the lovers repeated their performance, only this time in the classic head to tail position. Ellen timed her pumping of the faux cock to correspond to her climax so they both came together. They came with a heat and passion that exhausted them both.

Lying there enjoying post coital relaxation, he couldn't seem to wipe that smile off his face. They just enjoyed being in each other’s arms. He struggled to stand up to go pee. Returning, he looked down at his wife, her clothing in disarray. Her face, flushed from the sex, framed by her long curly hair that was disheveled from the recent bout of sex. A musky smell penetrated the faint smell of Ellen’s perfume. George, having done his business, crawled back into bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Ellen got up without waking George, ran a brush through her hair and touched up her makeup before waking Heather with a kiss on the lips. She said goodbye and left before sunrise.

Heather returned to her room where she was met with a long list of questions from his roommates. All were met with just a smile.

Three days later, he got called to the office. He had a package delivered to the front desk. Opening it he found it was a gift from an anonymous sender. A lifelike vibrating dildo, with fresh batteries. He quickly hid it under his mattress.

@ @ @ @

Ellen went home with a spring in her step. The serendipitous encounter with her husband had been better than she could have hoped for. She took a cab back to her car and drove home to find a nondescript sedan parked in her driveway. Getting out of her car, a man in a cheap Armani suit knockoff, identified himself as an FBI agent.

CHAPTER 19 - Women are like police, they can have all the evidence in the world but they still insist on a confession.

He inquired if he could come in. His intentions of looking for George were laughingly obvious. Ellen invited him in and led him to the kitchen table where she asked if he would like a cup of coffee. She began the process of brewing a pot. While her back was turned, he stood and asked if he could use the bathroom. Again, she was sure he was looking for evidence of a man in the house.

Testing him, Ellen knew the door on the newly installed bathroom stuck. A carpenter had been called to fix it. She answered him. "Sure, there is one in the hall across from the nursery, second door on your left. Sadly, it is unusable at the moment, the lock is broken and I can’t get the door open. The only working toilet is off my bedroom. Head of the stairs.

He replied, "Let me take a look at the one here, I bet I can get it open."

Ellen smiled as she answered, "Knock yourself out."

Several minutes later, she could hear him putting his shoulder to the door, forcing it open.

Returning with two steaming hot cups of coffee, she snuck a glance down the hall and watched him leave the powder room as the toilet flushed. He took the time to poke his head into the nursery. Satisfied there was no sign of her husband, he returned to the kitchen.

When he returned, Ellen sat at the table with him. To throw him off balance Ellen commented, "God help you if you left the toilet seat up. Also, I didn’t hear the water running. I don’t mean to pry but is it the FBIs normal practice not to wash their hands after using the facilities?"

He self-consciously wiped his hands on his trousers, then tried to regain control over the interrogation. With a smile on his face, his palms face down on the table, he leaned forward invading her private space and went on the offensive.

"Mrs. Trousdale. Can I call you Ellen?" he asked and then carried on without waiting for an answer. "I have to say I thought you would have slipped up by now. We are positive you know your husband’s whereabouts. We are tired of playing games with you. Talk to me now or I am going to charge you with obstruction of justice."

Ellen got an impending feeling of doom. But had a backbone of steel. No one threatened her. She remained silent as he questioned Ellen on her whereabouts last night. At first, she refused to answer then finally she said she went to a spa whose name she couldn’t remember. He next asked if she knew her husband’s location. He finally said, "The government needs to find him." Her answer was, "Tsk, tsk, when are you going to leave me alone? I have not seen George in months! Truth be told, I don’t think he will ever come home again."

"I don’t believe you!"

At which Ellen said, "So despite my denials and flashing a badge at me, you expect me to suddenly break down and tell you."

The agent had a ray of hope when Ellen said, "Do you have a piece of paper and a pen"?

Nodding yes, he thought he had finally gotten through to her. He handed her a piece of paper from his notebook and his lucky gold cross pen.

She wrote something on the paper, folded it in half and slid it back across the table to the agent.

He opened the paper and wrinkled his forehead, "What’s this?"

"It’s the phone number of my lawyer, if you have any other questions call him. Now please either arrest me or leave my house."

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably before he put the paper in his pocket and came to his feet. Ellen walked him to the front door and sarcastically waved him goodbye.

The next evening about 8 PM, she took two cups of coffee out to the men in the sedan parked across the street from her house, and told them, "If they ever needed to use the bathroom you are welcome in her home., all they had to do was ask." Needless to say, they were shocked. It was also the last time Ellen noticed anyone watching her home.

The next day, Beth stopped by to check on Ellen. The two women had become as close as sisters. Ellen couldn’t help herself and gave Beth a blow by blow narrative of her surprising encounter with George.

Beth was embarrassed by her description of their bedroom gymnastics. But as two best friends, nothing was off the table between them.

@ @ @ @

The weeks crept by at a snail’s pace. Ellen’s pregnancy was not an easy one. She only went into the office a few hours a day now. Despite her absence, the business continued to thrive. Nancy had become like a sister and did a marvelous job, making Ellen a lot of money. As a thankyou, Ellen went so far as to have her attorney draw up the papers and officially made Nancy a partner with twenty-five percent of the business.

Ellen followed her doctor’s instructions to the letter, not wanting to risk her or the baby’s heath. Despite her best efforts, she still suffered from hypertension and severe headaches. It got so bad that she was forced to only work from home where she was for all intents and purposes bed ridden. Venturing out only when absolutely necessary, Beth was a godsend, stopping by every day to check on her and provide her with fresh groceries and home cooked meals.

One morning, Ellen felt something wasn’t right. She had a scheduled appointment with her OB-GYN at noon. She agonized over the decision and finally decided to tough it out. She took a cab, not feeling like driving to her appointment. Her doctor was immediately concerned at the baby’s vital signs and recommended they induce her labor right now, even though she was only at 37 weeks. She was excited at the thought of ending her pregnancy early, as long as it didn’t put the baby at risk. The doctor called an ambulance and had Ellen transported to a hospital. Where she breezed through check-in.

Entrenched firmly in a private room, she called Beth and asked her to go get George and bring him to the hospital. Beth asked if that was wise. Ellen, being in no mood for a debate, replied, "Think about it, Beth, if anyone questioned his presence, he could simply identify himself as family say he is my I don’t know my sister-in-law."

@ @ @ @

Heather had just finished her third room of the day and was surprised to see his sister standing in the hall next to his laundry cart. He rushed to her side and mumbled, "What are you doing here?" Not waiting for an answer, he quickly scanned the area looking for anyone who could be the authorities. He asked, "Were you followed?"

Her emotions getting the better of her, she got within an inch of his face to spit out, "Hell if I know. You have to come with me right now. It’s Ellen, she’s in the hospital."

Heather felt light headed, his head spinning, he thought he might faint.

Beth rushed to him and grabbed his arm as he started to sway. She held him up. In a moment, the dizzy spell passed and he could focus again. He leaned up against the wall, trying to hold back the faintness.

"I don’t know what all is happening right now. Come on, my car is right outside. Let’s get to the hospital to find out how your family is doing."

Beth was close to panicking and neglected to pass on to her brother the cover story Ellen had cooked up. George was a nervous wreck during the short drive to the hospital. He was out the door before the car had come to a full stop. George, still wearing his maid’s uniform and in his Heather persona, rushed to the front desk, followed closely by Beth to find out where Ellen was. They were told she was about to be moved to the delivery room.

This crazed maid stood at the desk and demanded to join her. The nurse said she was sorry; it was the hospital’s official policy that only direct family members were allowed.

George was in no mood for bureaucratic nonsense. He tried to convince them he was her husband, that got an unbelieving skepticism from the staff. George made a real scene, screaming at the top of his lungs, in a feminine contralto voice that he wasn’t a woman but a man named George Trousdale, Ellen’s husband.

The attending physician called for someone from the Psychiatric Department to come down to handle this obviously deranged woman who was insisting she was a man and a patient’s husband. When a doctor arrived, he tried to calm down the delusional woman. Finally, George took matters in his own hands he lifted his skirt up and pulled down his panties, and pulled out his genitals and held them in his hand for the world to see.

With the evidence clearly on display the hospital grudgingly agreed he was in fact a male. But still would not let the unbalanced individual into a delivery room. George lost his patience and tried to force his way into the room. He raced through the maze of corridors pursued by a posse of doctors and orderlies.

He was finally stopped at his wife’s door. Embarrassingly, it was a petite blond nurse that stopped him dead in his tracks by grabbing him by his hair and spinning him around. He was thrashing about attempting to break free of her grip when security arrived and he was quickly subdued. The situation was finally saved by Ellen who was alerted by the commotion outside her room.

Demanding to know what was going on, she confirmed that, despite appearances to the contrary, the female looking person in the maids’ uniform was indeed her husband George. When the staff was still skeptical, she said the only thing she could think of to expedite the situation. She announced to the gathered horde that George was transitioning. He was currently going through his real-life test, living and working as a woman. The hospital authorities, seeing how he was dressed and fearing a discrimination lawsuit, did not question Ellen’s statement. The hospital authorities made a note in Ellen’s chart that her significant other was a transsexual. George was allowed into the room and rushed to his wife’s side.

Once the commotion had died down, the attention returned to Ellen. She was rushed to the delivery room. It was not an easy delivery; Ellen was in labor for almost 5 hours with George by her side the entire time. Ellen finally gave birth to a healthy seven and one-half pound girl. After asking to hold her child, Ellen wanted to talk to her husband. Beth stepped forward and told her that George had been taken away by the police. Beth wasn’t sure what he was charged with. All she saw was him being pushed into a police car in handcuffs. An exhausted Ellen let out a blood curdling cry of despair. She was immediately sedated.

The next morning, she woke up in a private room that looked more like a florist shop. Every spare inch held a bouquet of flowers. A nurse had collected all the cards and handed them to the new mother. A quick glance saw over half of the flowers were from Derrick. To her surprise, her husband, still dressed like Heather, was sitting next to the bed holding their daughter in his arms. Ellen blinked her eyes to clear her vision and shook her head to wake up. "George, I was told the police arrested you. What’s going on? Please tell me you didn’t break out of jail again!"

George laughed, "How did you guess, it was a piece of cake this time. They sent me to the woman’s wing. I seduced a male guard, knocked him unconscious and swapped clothes with him. This time dressed as a man, I simply walked out the front door.

Ellen was almost apoplectic. George took pity on her all things considered and told her, "No in all seriousness, not this time, I didn’t have to. I was taken to police headquarters where there was an FBI agent waiting for me. He had some pretty unflattering things to say about you. As it turns out, he is the one that has been visiting with Beth for months. He really is a nice guy; I think he has a thing for Beth. He sat me down and explained the authorities were actively looking for me; but not to arrest me. It seems the guy who set me up with the narcotics had been caught. He confessed that he was paid to plant the drugs on the guy wearing a coat with a Carlson logo on it. He has a rap page as a drug dealer. They want me to testify against him, hoping to get him to flip on his boss. I told them I would gladly do that."

She addressed the elephant in the room, by asking, "What about the Mexican government? Regardless of the fact you were innocent you still broke out of jail."

"It seems they aren’t anxious to admit to the world they sentenced an innocent American to jail for ten years. The fact that I just walked out of one of their prisons was a real embarrassment. They have agreed to drop all charges. As long as I promise to stay out of Mexico and sign a non-disclosure agreement with the Mexican government concerning my imprisonment. It was made clear to me I can never tell anyone about how I escaped.

"It’s ironic that we broke out of jail and I was the subject of a national manhunt by the police. But it took the police to free me from my prison of femininity."

Handing the baby to his wife he finished his tale with, "The best news is I can stop running from the law. For the first time in over a year, no one is looking for me."

At that point, the baby reached out for him.

Ellen chuckled, "It seems there one person looking for her daddy."

"George, that is unbelievably good news, but why are you still in your maid’s uniform?"

"Lucky for me you still keep the spare house key under the door mat. I went home and couldn’t find anything there that fits me. By the way I love the new four-poster bed you got. The flowery potpourri scent in the bedroom was a tad overwhelming, it was a bit off putting trying to sleep among it. Not wanting to be away from you and the baby any longer than I had to, I washed this outfit and rushed back here. I figured that, once I got you and the baby home, I will go shopping. This will be decent until then."

Ellen studied her husband closely and noticed when he turned to face her. he was wearing a light shade of lipstick and what had to be a coating of mascara. Surprised she said, "Alright that makes sense. However, that doesn’t explain why you’re wearing lipstick. I figured you would jump at the chance to dump all the feminine trappings."

A little embarrassed he answered, "I thought if I have to dress like a woman there would be less questions if I looked presentable. Hope I didn’t overdo it. I can wash it off if it makes you more comfortable."

"No, you look nice. Leave it on."

Looking at his lipstick she asked, " It looks familiar. What shade is it? I think I would like to get some just like it."

Embarrassed George focused on his hands before answering, "It’s called Mango. Actually, it’s yours, I saw it laying on your vanity. I don’t know what came over me. I saw it there and just had to try it on."

When he couldn't think of any words to justify his actions, he just hung his head lowering his eyes demurely.

Ellen just couldn’t pass up an opportunity to tease George so she mockingly said, "What a wonderful surprise my husband and I have the same taste in lipstick. But it looks better on you than me. Keep it as a gift."

Ellen thought of something. "Heather, I would like a few magazines to read while I am here. Could I ask you to run to the gift shop to get them for me?"

Heather checked her wallet and confessed, he only had two dollars. Ellen apologized, "I’m sorry I should have thought about that. Get me my purse, please."

He handed her purse to her, she took out her debit card and handed it to Heather and told her the password. "Honey, take this and keep it, until I can get you some money of your own. There are sufficient funds in that account to tide you over."

CHAPTER 20 - There is an intimate relation between curing and caring.

They kept Ellen for a couple of days in the maternity ward. George could only visit in the evenings as he spent the days at the police headquarters being debriefed by the feds. By the time they were done with him and he hurried to the hospital, he never found the time to go shopping for male clothes. He showed up every day for his interrogation in a freshly washed and ironed maids’ outfit.

During those sessions, he learned some really interesting things. The dirt bag who had hidden the drugs in his bag was singing like the proverbial canary. It turned out that he was actually working for Mr. Brown, George’s old boss. He had set him up as a test case. If he got through customs, Leon had planned to use the statue gambit to open a smuggling route.

Then the feds gave George some really good news. If he agreed to testify against the two; all charges against him would be dropped and his record will be expunged.

@ @ @ @

Ellen used the time to rest and bond with her new daughter. She knew being a working mother was going to be exhausting. Ellen, without George’s input, decided to name their daughter Ariel Georgina. Ariel after her maternal grandmother and Georgina for her husband. She gave the name Heather some serious thought. In the end, she thought that would be just rubbing salt in an open wound.

Finally, the day arrived to take Ellen home. George, still wearing his maids’ uniform, got his wife and Ariel into Ellen’s car that he had been driving the last several days and drove them home. With Beth’s help they got Ellen settled in her bed, with the baby crib set up next to Ellen’s side.

For the first time, George noticed his daughter had blue eyes, not brown like her parents. It was bizarre. Something he would have to ask about later.

Finally, George was able to relax and was happy to finally abandon the maid’s outfit. After checking that Ellen and the baby were settled, he bashfully got undressed in their walk-in closet and slipped into the bathroom to take a shower.

A deliriously happy Ellen laid in bed and waited patiently for him to finish his bathing ablutions. It was déjà vu all over again. Just like the last night he had shared their marital bed. Ellen laid in bed and thought gleefully how nice it was to be home, surrounded by her family. In her excitement, she failed to recognize his bashfulness, and yelled to him after she heard the water turned off. "It’s great being home as a family, I can’t believe how wonderful things have worked out for us. Get your ass in here!"

He returned with two towels wrapped around him. One covering his genitals, the other around his chest. "Speak for yourself. The worst you have to deal with is a possible case of Postpartum depression. While I am dealing with a pair of unmanly breasts on my chest. I feel like I am starring in a Greek tragedy. I am neither fish nor fowl; neither a man nor a woman. I guess the term non-binary would best describe my current situation."

Dropping both towels, he stood there buck naked. "Look at me!"

Ellen briefly looked at him, then looked down to avoid his gaze. Realizing she had been looking at a body that with one or two minor exceptions could be mistaken for a high school coed.

George broke Ellen out of her reverie with a tersely worded question, "Well, what do you think of your husband?"

Trying to lighten the mood she replied with a gleefully grin, "Ducky I must say you’ve got a nice set of bitch tits, I’m a little jealous."

A very somber George wailed, "Oh, my Gawd Ellen! This is not a laughing matter! If I stay like this for much longer, I'm sure you'll get sick of your sissy husband and go off and find yourself someone manlier."

"You idiot! There are some major challenges ahead of us. Yet, you’re all the man I could ever want. If I was going to ditch you for some stud, I would have done that while you were incarcerated." She closed her eyes and just shook her head. "God, that sounds so camp!"

Ellen turned deadly solemn. "Look, babe, I went out with big hairy muscular types at Uni, and got fed up with their posturing. To the point, one of them even physically went after me."

George looked up in surprise. "You’ve never mentioned that. Did he….you know?"

"No nothing like that. I got slapped around a little, a couple of black eyes and a bloody nose. No big deal really. I didn’t see a reason to bring it up. For that type of man, the more they realize that a woman is their intellectual better the more they have to show off their superior physical prowess." Ellen thought to herself, ‘George would never try anything like that. I would kick his butt to hell and back.’ She smiled at her husband and said. "You aren’t threatened by the fact I am smarter and stronger than you. That is why I selected you."

Coming back to the present, she continued, "Dating guys with more muscles than brains got pretty tedious, quite honestly. Then I met you. And you were everything opposite from my normal date. You made me laugh. You look after me, without being patronizing. You ask for my opinion on everything. Your judgement is always spot-on. I trust you instinctively. And I know you would never hurt me. And top of all that, you're almost my intellectual equal. I know that you're my soulmate, I couldn’t love you more. Even in your current physical state; hell, maybe partly because of it!"

A tear of joy started down his cheek. Ellen gave out a sigh of relief and tried to console her husband. "Try and relax dear, we are going to do what we should have done the day we crossed the border. We will get you to a doctor tomorrow and see where you stand. I am sure things will work out for the best. Look on the bright side. What’s the worst thing that can happen? I end up with a husband who I can share my wardrobe with. You will always have me and Ariel. We will love you no matter what functioning body parts you have or don’t have. There are always other things we can do."

Ellen slept exhausted, George not so well, he had nothing to sleep in. Ellen offered him one of her nightgowns, which he declined. For months he had become accustomed to sleeping in his bra and panties under his footed PJ’s. There was no way he was going to ask to borrow one of Ellen’s bras and panties. So being stubborn, he slept in the nude. Determined that tomorrow he would get a set of men’s pajamas. To keep warm, he cuddled close to his wife. Being new to the fatherhood business, every slight noise the baby made had him instantly awake to check on her.

The next morning, after feeding Ariel, Ellen made a few phone calls for her husband. She was just starting to feel the effects of Postpartum depression. The joy of her daughter was being overwhelmed with the realization of how hard her life as a working woman was going to be. Then she realized how she could deal with her issue, ‘Now that I am on my home court, poor Gorge doesn’t stand a chance. He may want to live with me as a man, but it’s Heather that I need to help with the housework and the baby.’

After numerous calls and referrals, she eventually she got an appointment for that afternoon for Mr. Trousdale with the best GP in town. Ellen started with a GP, not knowing what medical specialty her husband would require.

@ @ @ @

Getting ready to leave was a madhouse. It was their first-time taking Ariel out. It took forever to gather all the necessary accoutrements needed for the baby’s first day out of the house. Once everything was gathered and stacked by the front door, they moved on to the next problem.

What to have George wear. He took a shower while Ellen laid out all his old left behind clothes. He tried them all on, the pants wouldn’t get past his wide hips, his shirts were ridiculously tight around the chest. It quickly became apparent with all the changes in his body, none of his old clothes came close to being suitable.

In disgust, he gave up and threw everything on the floor. He stood naked staring at his refection in the mirror. Out of frustration, he put a hand under each breast and lifted, feeling the weight of each mammary.

"My Lord Ellen, look at me. I swear these things have gotten bigger, over the last few days. They are huge, what do you think?"

"Relax dear, you cannot be objective at this moment. They are not that large. You certainly wouldn't be getting a job at Hooters anytime soon. I will admit they are far more than the budding breasts one might see on a girl just entering puberty. I do agree that your aureoles seem to have had grown. They are now wide brown circles from which large nipples seem to have sprouted almost over night. Don’t fixate on them, lets take this one problem at a time."

He complained, "That’s easily for you to say, I can’t hide them or even cover them. There is no way my shirts can button with these outsized monstrosities hanging from my chest.

"Until I can get them removed, what do I do in the meantime?"

Ellen had already concluded that George was going to have to have to dress en femme for the appointment. Trying to hide her intuitive assessment, she said, "A sports bra might help contain them, if you want to go that way. We could stop by the mall and find out what Victoria's Secret is really about?

George wasn’t amused.

Ellen walked to her bureau and opened a drawer. She threw him a bra, stockings and then panties. To George's astonishment, the bra and panty set had more lace than his grandmother's curtains. His face was as red as a bottle of wine.

"Ellen, you can’t be serious!" he questioned. "A bra and Panties!"

Ellen smiled and responded, "Stockings are probably new to you. Slip them on first."

He raised his eyebrows in query. "Why stockings and not pantyhose?"

George scowled he didn’t appreciate Ellen’s teasing.

It wasn’t her intention to offend him, she was just trying to lighten the mood.

"I am sorry honey. The real reason is it will give the doctor easy access to your naughty bits. He will most assuredly need to exam your genitals. Wearing the nylons, all he will have to is pull down your underpants."

Then handing him the other pieces of her unmentionables, she directed, "Put these on, Ducky. The bra is one I purchased to hold my breasts swollen with milk. I hope they aren’t too tight on you."

The implication that his breasts were larger than his wife’s pregnancy boobs sent shivers through his soul. "Ellen please!"

"I mean it, George. You need a bra to keep your girls in check, it would be indecent to go out into public braless. The panties are tight control top. Because you also will need something to hold your dangly bits out of the way. I know from experience even though they are tight control panties, they are easily discarded. Making it easy to go potty and at other more intimate times."

"But Ellen, they’re so feminine."

"Don’t be a dope. The panties are part of the matching set they go with your bra. Who do you think will be looking at your underpants?"

He started to blubber. "I can’t believe how friggin nonchalant you are about my condition. I suppose now you are going to tell me you have a dress in your closet that will go perfectly with the lingerie. Don’t you understand I didn't want this anymore? I thought once I came home things would go back to the way they were."

Ellen sat down and pulled him down beside her and put her arm around him. "It's okay, George. It was always okay. I'm going to help you. We’ll get through this together."

George started to protest, "Damn it I’m a man! I am tired of wearing dresses, I want to look like a man for a change. I refuse to let the past dictate my future!"

"Sorry dear we will attack that problem later; after we find out what’s up with your medical condition. We can’t do that until we get you to the doctor. For now, let’s find you something to wear for your appointment. Out of necessity for now, the best we can hope for is an androgynous look."

They went through every outfit Ellen owned. It seemed that George was larger on top and around the hips then pre-pregnancy Ellen. A fact Ellen found amusing, until she pointed out to George that he also had a smaller waist.

After George vetoed one of Ellen’s maternity dresses, they finally found an old gray sweat suit of Ellen’s that George could get into. Despite its pink piping, it was androgynous enough to let George leave the house with his pride intact.

@ @ @ @

Ellen and George with the baby in tow, spent several hours at the doctor's office. They related the entire story to the astonished medical professional. He did a comprehensive physical and ordered several tests. Ellen was there the entire time with Ariel in her lap.

In the end the doctor admitted, "I'll be honest with you. This is uncharted territory for me and well outside my sphere of knowledge so I'm going to refer you to a specialist for a deeper investigation." With a serious expression on his face he added, "it's unlikely, but there is the possibility that George might be a hermaphrodite. His female half was dormant for most of his life and it was brought only out by the intake of female hormones."

The only question the doctor had was whether to send George to an endocrinologist, a gynecologist, or a psychiatrist. His attempt at humor was not appreciated.

The doctor told George that it would really help if he could bring in a sample of what his Mexican friends had been feeding him. It would give them an idea of where to begin.

George couldn’t go back to the hotel looking the way he was now. So, Ellen went alone and talked to the gals. At first, they were reluctant to help, but after she explained that the doctor needed to know what senorita Heather had been taking and Ellen gave her word that the authorities would not be told of their involvement, Claudia eventually went to her locker and returned with a bottle of small pills.

Claudia also confessed, they stopped for a while after Heather confronted them, but then continued to feed the pills to Heather even after they promised to stop. "After all she is just a child and didn’t know what’s good for her."

A week later, George and Ellen entered an endocrinologist's office to see what could be done for George. He painstakingly went through the entire explanation again. Ellen turned over the pills she had picked up. This doctor again started with a complete physical and ordered a whole new battery of tests. To George’s mortification, he even had to go through the indignity of a mammogram. He vehemently complained to Ellen, who quieted him by reminding him that it was rare but men did get breast cancer.

When they were done, George wasn’t sure he had any blood left. The worst part was when the doctor milked George's prostate to test for sperm motility. It wasn’t anywhere as enjoyable as the times Ellen did it. They were told the doctor would call when the results came back. They went home and tried to live their lives as normal as possible.

CHAPTER 21 - The nine most terrifying words in the English language are, 'I'm from the government and I'm here to help.'

Ellen initially had planned on returning to work as soon as possible. With all that had happened, she decided to take an extra month’s maternity leave. In addition to recovering from her delivery, she wanted a chance to get reacquainted with George and help him through his emotional crisis. As a starting point, they turned off all of their electrical devices so they wouldn’t be disturbed and retired to the bedroom. The first two days, they never left except to pop into the kitchen to grab a snack or take care of the baby. And of course for bathroom breaks.

Surprisingly, only a small portion of the time was consumed by being intimate, other than spooning in bed. The majority of time they spent just talking. There was so much she wanted to share with George about her business. At first, he was reluctant to talk about his experiences as a lowly housekeeper. He was content to let Ellen wax eloquent about her enterprise. He used his fiscal background to make a few helpful suggestions. After all he was still an accountant, even if he was out of practice.

The issue of what to wear while holding these sessions was initially a real problem for George. During their ponderings that went long into the nights, Ellen kept to long nighties. She offered some to George, advocating their comfortableness. George passed, insisting on something more unisex. He wore sweats and, for variety, gym shorts. For modesty's sake, he added one of Ellen’s white cotton camisoles.

They had both had changed and grown during their forced separation. They bared their souls and opened up about all the things they had experienced. They discussed their triumphs and failures even their calamity of dates with men. George grudgingly laid out the nauseating details about Heather’s dinner date. Ellen confessed that, with George gone and she was trying to get her company up and running, she had accepted a series of outings with a man representing himself as a prospective investor. She assured George nothing had happened, at least nothing more than he had shared with his date. That is a passionate good night’s kiss. Ellen stopped seeing him when she realized the only thing, he was interested in was banking his seed in her.

They vacillated between wanting to laugh, cry or celebrate. It was like they had just found each other all over again. A new and stronger friendship was forged in those days. Ellen was determined to never let anything get between them again.

Ellen had three days left before she was to return to work and was looking forward to kicking back and recharging her batteries, when they had an unexpected visitor.

They were relaxing in the master suite and were taken aback when the doorbell rang. Which was followed by a loud pounding on the door. Ellen was only wearing her terrycloth bathrobe. George was in the bathroom leaving his morning deposit. Which meant it was up to Ellen to see who was interrupting their alone time. She pulled the robe tight and strolled to the front door to see who was knocking so persistently. Looking through the glass she saw it was the federal prosecutor assigned to George's case, Fred Thompson.

Ellen answered the door. For modesty sake she again pulled the robe closed and invited him in.

Without any preliminaries he explained, "I tried to call but I couldn’t get through so I stopped by. We have to talk. Mr. Brown’s lawyer, wants to depose your husband on Friday at the courthouse. I need to talk to him to prepare him. These things can be very stressful. He needs to be prepared because their lawyer will go after him and his credibility."

Ellen called for George to come to the living room. George hopped off the pot and pulled up the sweatpants he was wearing. With a chill in the air, he grabbed one of Ellen’s sweatshirts fresh out of the dryer, that had I LOVE PINK stitched across the front. His feet were cold so he slipped on Ellen’s old pair of fuzzy bunny slippers that were laying on carpet in the bedroom. Not knowing why, he was being summand to the living room. He walked in and saw who was there, he about died from embarrassment at the outfit he had on.

Mr. Thompson played it cool and acted like what he saw was an everyday occurrence. He merely explained he would like to see George appropriately dressed the next day in his office to go over the type of questions he could expect on Friday.

George asked what was going on. Fred gave George the executive summary, leaving Ellen to fill in the details.

After Thompson left, the two realized there was a significant decision ahead of them. One that could have long range implications. What was George going to wear. Because of their desire to relax and avoid difficult decisions that George’s unique dimensions caused; they had put off shopping.

George insisted he was a man and would only wear male clothes from this day forward. Ellen thought it was unreasonable to find anything that would make George appear as a man. Ellen nodded to his chest to point out the two obvious problems with that decision. To avoid an argument, Ellen agreed to help with concealing his budding breasts by binding them with an elastic bandage.

George was getting dressed the next day in hopes of finding gender neutral clothes suitable for a business meeting. Ellen bound his chest. Even at that, George had a difficult time finding a shirt he could button because of the excessive mass on his chest. Eventually, he found an old one that he managed to get buttoned. He complained that he found Ellen’s solution uncomfortable. Ellen ignored his grumbles and moved ahead to put his hair up in a manly ponytail.

After looking at himself in the mirror, George deceived himself that his appearance made him look like he had well developed pecs and not breasts. Ellen gave in to his male pride and didn’t say she thought he looked ridiculous. She went along with it, hoping for the best. Ellen kept her opinion to herself. They left with George wearing one of his old dress shirts, a pair of sweat pants and a ratty old pair of sneakers.

Ellen drove them to a men’s store that specialized in men’s suits, promoting that they tailored them to fit while you waited. Walking in, George got strange looks from all of the staff. Their attitudes changed when George selected an extremely expensive charcoal grey double-breasted suit. The salesman and store tailor worked with George and did the best they could. George was hoping for a metrosexual look, but failed miserably. His slender waist and womanly hips made the tailor's job a real challenge.

While they waited, Ellen ran next store and got a pair of men’s loafers and socks in George’s size. Returning she went through the stores selection of dress shirts that were intended for big and tall. She hoped they would camouflage his chest. She picked a classic blue collared dress shirt and a patterned tie.

After a few hours of cooling their heels in the waiting room, the store’s tailor brought out the suit. George ducked into a changing room and put everything on. It all fit and he walked out to show his wife, whose reaction was less than enthusiastic. When he turned to see why looking at a floor length mirror, he was less than delighted with his appearance.

Standing in front of the mirror, he looked over at Ellen and feigned a smile. He asked Ellen hopefully, "Honey what do you think?" The reflection he saw was definitely on the feminine side of androgynous. He had hoped that the first time in over a year he would feel like he was getting his manhood back. Now he wasn’t so sure that was possible, but it was better than being in a dress and wearing makeup.

Ellen’s response was, "Let’s get out of here and go home it has been a stressful day."

He went home and spent the evening polishing his black loafers. When he was done, Ellen approached from behind, "Honey we need to do something about your hair, it’s a mess. First, I will shampoo it, then I'm just going to trim off the split ends for you. Your hair will be much healthier looking without those, alright?"

"Fine, do what you think best." George replied. He had not had a barber near his hair for over 18 months, so this was a treat for him. His hair was longer than most men. He planned on getting it cut a bit shorter, but had more pressing issues at this moment. He'd think about what he'd like it to look like and then visit a barber shop when he had the time.

Ellen brushed his hair out after washing. She was shaken to realize his hair was so long, the ends landed in clusters on his shoulders. Aside from the unmanly length his hair looked lovely. It was thick and rich, chestnut brown. There were no signs of balding. She snipped and clipped and used the blow dryer, then snipped and clipped some more. To the point it was now just touching his shoulders. In her opinion, he no longer looked like a homeless bag lady.

Finally satisfied, she announced, "There we go. Much better, now," Ellen spoke with a professional air while finishing up on his hair.

She put it in a manly ponytail and they all went off to bed.

He was up early the next morning, nervous about the success of his first outing in over a year as George Trousdale. Ellen had to drive him to the courthouse, as he hadn’t gotten a driver license to replace the one confiscated when he was arrested.

George was on pins and needles and squirmed with unease as he waited in the halls. Eventually they met Fred outside his office and walked to an unused conference room. Ellen wasn’t allowed in the room as Fred Thompson planned on drilling George the way he expected Leon’s lawyers to do.

Ellen said her goodbyes at the door. "Now off you go." she said, playfully slapping his bottom.

"I’m ready." He said, in a trembling voice. Ellen watched her husband disappear as the door closed behind him.

Ellen paced the halls for a good 40 minutes, finally the door opened. She expected George to come out first. Rather it was Fred with a concerned expression on his face.

"Where’s my husband?"

"He’s inside trying to compose himself."

"Why want happened?"

Fred lamented, "Mrs. Trousdale, we need to talk before he joins us. We have a big problem. It’s your husband. The first time I questioned his memory, he broke down and cried like a disgraced televangelist. Because of his non-disclosure agreement with the Mexican government he can’t talk in public about his time in Mexico, that would explain his feminine appearance. Let me be blunt, with his mannerisms and body language your husband comes across as at best an effeminate man, at worst a total flaming faggot. I am not being judgmental, but that will affect his credibility in front of a jury. It would almost be better if he came in a dress and simply presented himself as a man transitioning, that at least would be politically correct."

Ellen snapped, "I don’t think is a viable option. Is there anything else we can do?"

"He could butch up," replied Fred seriously.

Ellen knew she would have to have a very difficult discussion with George tonight.

When she had it with him, it didn’t go well. It ended with him locking himself in the bathroom. He was delusional, and insisted he did fine and was ready to go on.

@ @ @ @

The next day, George returned again dressed in his suit and tie. George sat a long table crossed his legs in a feminine manner and tried to relax. He was deposed by Mr. Brown’s lawyer, with a grinning Leon sitting next to his attorney. When asked, George stated confidently that he could identify the man who sat next to him at the Mexico City airport.

The lawyer’s strategy quickly became apparent. He intended to actively attack George’s credibility based on his effeminate appearance and mannerisms. Leon didn’t say anything he just sat there with a smirk on his face.

Leon’s attorney started with a bit of sarcasm. "Mr. Trousdale let’s be honest. When Mr. Brown sent you to Mexico you were a tenor and now you appear to be more of a soprano. How long have you been living as a woman?"

Leon giggled and had to cover his mouth with his hand.

George glared at his old boss. Being under oath, he had to tell the truth. "Let’s say a little less than two years. I don’t remember the exact date."

"How did you achieve this metamorphosis going from a man to a woman?"

"I am not sure what you are asking."

"I will be brutally blunt. Have you been taking female hormones?"

George look down at his hands unable to speak, his mouth was dry. The judge said, "Mr. Trousdale answer the question."

With trepidation he replied, "Yes sir, but not intentionally."

"Mr. Trousdale, that is a yes or no question. "Said Leon’s attorney. The judge ordered George to only answer the questions asked.

"Yes, I have."

"Where those drugs prescribed by a doctor?"

"No sir."

"Tell us please where those drugs came from, remember you are under oath."

"From Mexico."

"So, let me understand this, you went to Mexico and came home over a year later. During that time, you have been taking drugs not prescribed for you. Tell this court how long have you wanted to be a woman."

"I don’t want to be a female!" Said George emphatically.

The lawyer snickered and looking at George said, "Excuse me, looking at you it appears that ship has sailed."

The judge reprimanded the lawyer for editorializing.

George pleaded, "I’m telling the truth you have to believe me!"

With emphasis on the word sir he went on. "No SIR we don’t! Did you continue to take illegal female hormones after you crossed to this side of the border?"

George hesitated but finally answered, "Yes sir."

"Where did you get those drugs?"

"Unwilling to incriminate his maid roommates he answered, "I refuse to answer invoking my connotational rights against self-incrimination."

Afterwards, the prosecutor pulled George and Ellen into a private room for a heart-to-heart talk. He was concerned that George’s unmanly appearance and feminine idiosyncrasies could affect his credibility in front of a jury. Ellen and the prosecutor huddled privately for a few minutes, leaving George to wonder what was going on. He was very concerned. The government had a confession from the thug in Mexico, but unfortunately, he had never met Mr. Brown, the arrangements were all done by email. George is the only person that could tie Mr. Brown to the drugs. Without his successful testimony, Leon would walk.

Ellen and George were told they could go home. With their heads down, they tuned out the rest of the world and became lost in their thoughts as they stood waiting for the elevator. Suddenly Ellen jumped, someone had pinched her butt. She whirled around to find out who had done it. Standing there was Leon. He smugly glared at Ellen, "Sweetheart give me a call when you tire of your wimp and want a real man."

Ellen feigned a look around and snapped back, "Why do you know one? I currently don’t see one here."

George flinched at her remark but kept quiet. The bell sounded and the two entered the lift, Ellen glared at Leon and dared him to follow. She closed the doors leaving him standing there without his smug expression. Ellen was fuming and rubbed the spot on her backside. She turned to her husband and said, "I want that chauvinist reprobate to be put away for life. We have to find a way to make you the most credible witness ever."

CHAPTER 22 - My body does not define who I am. I’m still a man in my soul.

A week later they got a call the doctor wanted to see them to get the results of all the tests. George in his suit and tie returned to the doctors. The receptionist was kind enough to watch the baby while George and Ellen were in seeing the doctor.

George knew it wasn’t good news when they walked in and the doctor wouldn’t look him in the eye. He merely motioned for them to have a seat. They sat across from a grim-looking doctor as he reviewed the battery of tests performed on George one last time to see if there was anything he had missed.

He studied the papers in front of him while absentmindedly fiddling with his pen. He was in no hurry to give this nice couple the dire news. George and Ellen fidgeted in their cushioned seats waiting for the update.

Eventually, the doctor looked up and spoke to George, "Mr. Trousdale I have been doing this for over 27 years and I have never seen a case like yours. Taking your story at face value, I am confused with these lab results. I have worked with male transsexuals going through transition. Your lab results are what I would expect to see from a man who has been on long term hormone replacement."

"George you have been off the hormone drugs for several weeks. These tests don't show any significant change from the ones run by your GP. Though I didn't really expect anything else so soon. Testosterone levels are up slightly, but not so much that it might not be normal fluctuation. Scarily, these levels are much lower than the average WOMAN your age. Estrogen levels, on the other hand have come down, but are still above the normal range, even for a teenage girl at the peak of puberty. So, these results are about what I expected."

George spoke up, "Doctor, before, you mentioned the possibility of testosterone therapy, could that help now?"

He paused to consider. "I think we had best leave that up to nature. There is a risk associated with a testosterone supplement. The body seems to decrease production of that particular hormone when a supplement is administered. Right now, I would think we would want to encourage your body to produce as much as it is willing to on its own. Later, if that proves inadequate...". He looked down with a guilty expression, "Then it may be our last recourse. Again, those are decisions are best left to later."

Ellen reached over and took George’s hand.

The doctor looked up and pontificated, "As you know, slight amounts of estrogen are found in all men, likewise women have trace amounts of testosterone in their systems. The key is keeping the two in a natural balance."

The doctor looked over the top of his glasses and went on with his discourse. "As men age, their bodies tend to make increasing levels of estrogen with decreased production of testosterone. However, that doesn’t account for your levels. Your body appears to be producing the amount of estrogen of a normal woman your age. Conversely, your testosterone production is almost nonexistent. I can’t say with any certainty why, but those pills you dropped off are in all likelihood the culprit. They not only contained high levels of estrogen, but also have a strong antiandrogen component. My lab technicians have never seen anything like them. They aren’t anything standard and certainly not something FDA approved."

The doctor spoke to the both of them, "Testosterone levels as low as yours have correlated into higher rates of depression in men. Therefore, no matter what we decide to do, I am recommending George seek professional mental health care. My receptionist will give you several recommendations."

Thumbing through a medical book on his desk the doctor went on. "There is a growing need to understand the effects of abnormal levels of estrogen in men. I would love to follow your case and document your readings. Like all hormones, estrogen needs to be kept under control. Current research shows chronic health conditions are more likely to occur in men as a result of estrogen levels becoming too high."

George interrupted, "I have never intentionally taken estrogen."

The doctor nodded, "I believe you. I can only speculate that the frequent starting and stopping of hormones has thrown your body chemistry for a loop."

He added, "It is extremely difficult to control an imbalance of this sort, since female hormones generally dominate male hormones. Finding just the right balance would take time and a great deal of patience on George's part. It is even possible, actually it is very likely, that things would get worse before they got better. Even with that treatment it could take months before we see any change."

Switching his attention to Ellen he talked to her directly, "Mrs. Trousdale, I hope you don’t plan on having any more children. I’m afraid George’s testes are as barren as the Sahara Desert."

George slumped in his chair while Ellen’s grip on his hand tightened painfully. Hearing the doctor’s prognosis, George shuddered and had to suppress an urge to vomit. He felt his life was in a downward spiral.

"Are there any options doctor?", asked Ellen.

"We can surgically remove the breasts and give him testosterone injections to try to halt things. The problem is that, adding high doses of male hormones on top of his already high levels of female hormones is highly risky as none of us know the potential damage it could do.

"He might regain some of his secondary male characteristics, erections will even be a possibility. But there is a real health risk because of his estrogen production, so I don’t recommend that course of treatment at this time."

"What if I exercised and lifted weights?" George asked.

The doctor grinned, "You might regain some muscle tone. In my opinion, the best you could hope for is to look like a buff woman."

Surprisingly, out of the blue George asked the doctor. "Doctor, if I can’t go back to being a functioning male. What happens if I go the other way and start taking female hormones again?"

That took both the doctor and Ellen by surprise, he leaned back in his chair lost in thought. He eventually said, "If that is the way you want to go, I think that, as an alternative for a flooding your system with estrogen right now, I would recommend that you consider an anti-androgen as a first step. Those inhibit the action of testosterone and you can take female hormones later, if you want to go that direction. They will greatly increase the effectiveness of the estrogen and make your transition much faster."

The doctor rubbed his chin lost in thought before going on, "On second thought I wouldn’t recommend it. The risks to your physical health are just too great. I can’t be positive but I think you have developed about as far as you can on hormones alone. Even if you took large doses of estrogen, you’ll never be another Dolly Parton. If your goal is to simply be more feminine, I would suggest surgery. At present, I would describe your face as plain-looking. I am not a cosmetic surgeon but I would say you have good bone structure and, with just a little work by any competent surgeon, you would become attractive."

A dejected George sputtered at the doctor, "Let me see if I understand what you are telling me. I can’t go back to being man, and can’t go the other way without cosmetic surgery. What are you recommending?"

"You may not like this, but my medical advice is that we do nothing for now. We wait and let your body come to its own equilibrium."

"How long do you think that will take?"

"There is no way to tell. My best guess is a year, maybe two."

George slumped in his chair, "What am I going to do in the meantime?"

"Speaking as a man, not as a doctor, with appropriate clothing and makeup, I think you would make a passable looking woman."

The doctor smiled and decided to move things along by saying, "My secretary has a referral to the best counselor in town dealing with gender dysphoria. I strongly recommend you make an appointment to speak with him." He soon ushered them out of his office when they offered no further questions.

@ @ @ @

The ride home was done in silence except for the baby fussing in her car seat. Eventually, Ellen couldn’t take it any longer and had to say something.

She spoke as lovingly as possible, "Honey this isn’t the end of the world. What are we looking at? You living as a woman. So, what! It’s nothing you haven’t done."

He shrugged and the tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Oh, baby," Ellen pulled the car over and embraced him, "Just take a breath and think about this, we are a family and are all together. That is something."

As she held him tight, he took a breath and did his best to staunch the flow of tears. They hugged, and she could feel against her face the tears he was crying. To her surprise, she found herself crying as well, and they clung together as two lonely survivors seeking shelter from a storm. The tears gushed forth and stained her blouse.

Sitting in their car alongside the highway, Ellen tried again to cheer up her hubby, "Darling manifesting yourself as a woman won’t make you a second-class citizen. In spite of what you always thought as a man, women hold a great deal of power. Appearing as one you will experience that influence. Maybe it will be a few more years before a woman becomes President, but on a more personal level, you can use your perceived sex to get what you want."

"You want me to become a whore?" There was a tone of shock and scorn in his voice.

"No. I didn't mean the actual act, just show some leg and a little cleavage. With that sort of thing, even ugly woman can manipulate men by flashing a little boob. Men will be putty in your hands.

"You've really got a lot to learn. I will gladly be your guide. We will go down that trail together with me at your side. Look in my purse. You’ll find some tissues. Dry those tears, we will be home in a few minutes. Once we get there, things won’t seem so bleak."

Once they were home, Ellen fed Ariel and put her down for a nap. She returned to the lounge to find her husband sitting on the sofa, drinking wine directly from the bottle. She challenged him, "What the hell are you doing George?"

"Trying my best to get drunk. What does it look like?" His tone was low and sulky.

To prevent a potential fight, Ellen took charge of the situation by grabbing the bottle out of his hand as she said, "Give me that. Drinking is never the answer."

Then she put it to her mouth and drank what was left in several large gulps.

The alcohol hit her hard. Emotionally exhausted, she slumped onto the sofa next to her husband. Whatever George had it was catching because Ellen went into a major funk.

"Dear, I am sorry this is all my fault," she said, her voice breaking.

George sat next to her, watching as Ellen blubbered into tissues and then tossed them into a disgusting pile on the coffee table. George hugged her until she finally stopped crying except for a few sniffles.

Ellen felt better after a good cry, so she shuffled off to the bathroom to clean herself up a bit, while George fastidiously pushed the spent tissues into the wastebasket with a pen.

Now it was George’s turn to break down, with Ellen out of the room he had had a chance to think. He wondered if he would ever embrace any part of his masculinity again. Or was it dead and buried forever?

Ellen came back into the room as a tear formed in George's eye. He pushed it away because he feared that he would start blubbering again. Ellen found him with his head in his hands.

"George, tell me what you are thinking. It will make you feel better to get it off your chest."

"Ellen, I've been thinking. I'm stuck in a predicament. For the last six months or so, I have dedicated every waking moment to being the best woman I can be. I really think I am so far down that path I won’t be able to find my way back. Even if I could, would there now be a point in it.

"Ellen, do you realize even radical surgery won’t help me? My breasts can be removed, but with the drastic alterations caused by the hormones, I will never look like my old self again."

He stuttered, "Not completely in any case. The best I could hope for would be to look like a freakishly effeminate man. Everyone I deal with would wonder what sex I was. The one thing I am sure of is I am only attracted to woman."

Looking down at his chest he declared, "I am not sure what gender you would call me."

Ellen held him at arm’s length and stared him in the eye. "Dear, your sex is determined by your genitals. Your gender is determined by what’s between your ears and what is in your heart, not by what’s between your legs. If you think and feel like a man, then that is what you are despite what happens to your body!"

That temporarily made George feel better about his situation.

A fearful Ellen asked, "Do you blame me for your situation?"

George thought about her question for a few minutes before answering. "Honey, there is enough blame to go around. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t come up with the idea to disguise me as a girl. But looking back on it, I would not have survived prison if you hadn’t.
The way I see it, your plan actually saved my life."

Ellen smiled and added, "That’s sweet of you to say so. But aren’t you being a tad melodramatic?"

"Nonsense, I have more than that to thank you for. You orchestrated my escape. The publicity and manhunt resulting from my jail break energized the authorities to look into my case. Which, in the end, resulted in the apprehension of the dirt bag that set me up. When I look at the facts objectively, you are the one that is responsible for my freedom and clearing my name. I could never be upset at you for that."

Pushing up his breasts, he lightheartedly joked, "These are just a side effect of your efforts. Good or bad is yet to be determined. On the other hand, the Mexican government must shoulder some responsibility."

Seeing hope that she wasn’t being held responsible for the loss of his manhood, Ellen asked, "Are they the only ones you are upset with?"

"Not hardly, there are other actors in my life’s tragedy."

Ellen held him tight and commented, "I know Beth was worried you might be upset with her."

"Do I blame my sister? You bet! I talked to the FBI agent that she was so concerned about. He visited her so often, not to find me but he has a huge crush on her. As long as my case was open, he couldn’t do anything about it. So, he used me as an excuse to visit Beth. If she had opened her eyes, she could have realized the real reason for his interest. I could have come home after we crossed the border. In retrospect, Beth was the main reason I was stuck having to find ways to deal with the mundane life of a maid all these months and living the life of a Hispanic senorita. Living with my helpful Hispanic roommates resulted in me being doused with huge amounts of estrogen." His last comment was made with more than a little bit of sarcasm.

Ellen started to tear up, despite what he just said she couldn’t shake the feeling her husband was holding her responsible for his lost manhood.

George sat is a pool of self-pity, blaming his damned breasts for his problems. Ellen took him to bed in an attempt to raise his spirits. She comforted him and tried to help George come to terms with his girly appendages. She was sure that, over time, he would learn to appreciate their benefits, rather than loath the negatives.

@ @ @ @

The next few days were stressful and spent in thoughtful contemplation by both George and Ellen. He went through quite a bout of depression and denial. He threw himself the mother of all pity parties and refused to get out of bed for 48 hours. He was sure Ellen would leave him and he'd be left a freak. There were lots of tears and sad sleepless nights.

Ellen repeatedly reassured him that she wasn’t going anywhere. The thing that finally turned him around is when Ellen crawled into bed and wrapped her arms around him. Holding George firmly in her arms, Ellen pulled his head to her chest as she poured out her feelings. "Honey, I never pictured myself as gay or really wanted another woman in my life full time. But I love my husband and I will follow him to end of the world. I don't care what configuration his body has. I want to make him happy and feel good no matter what."

At that point, she cupped George’s right breast and lightly teased his nipple, causing it to stand up tall. He let out a sigh and nestled further into his wife’s arms.

She cooed in his ear, "I want you to be happy more than anything in the world. I will do whatever it takes to make that happen."

George went to sleep with a smile on his face. At dawn, he reached a decision. He got up and took a shower. Feeling refreshed, he joined Ellen at the breakfast table.

George sat down and took a gulp of his coffee, "Honey, what do you think I should do about the trial and after?"

Ellen sat up, excited that things might be about to change.

Ellen let him know her thoughts on the matter, "I’ve given this a lot of thought. Let’s be honest. In women's clothing, you look normal or almost so. In boy's clothes, not so much. It’s not your fault. I understand. To escape detection, you had to develop realistic female traits. You consciously forced yourself to adopt a feminine body language, with appropriate ladylike gestures and posture. Living with you these past few days, it is apparent that those have become second nature, almost to the point where it looks like you had been living as a female your whole life!"

Taking both of his hands in hers, she went on before she lost her nerve. "I’m afraid your macho male façade just won’t work now. You have lived the feminine lifestyle for so long that it appears to be ingrained in your DNA. Let’s be pragmatic, you appear to be a woman in every sense. There is no way you can go back to presenting as a man. I’m not trying to be mean. What I am trying to say is that I don’t want George to slink shamefully into court as a feminized man. Rather, I would love to see Heather, the confident woman, march proudly into that courtroom with her head held high. That would throw all those homophobic jerks off guard."

George sipped his black coffee slowly before responding. "I’ve made a decision. I don’t care about the past. The only thing that is important is where do I go from here. There is no way I am going to let that bastard of a boss of mine get off. I agree with you. A very feminine and confident Heather is the one who is going to be testifying in the courtroom.

"Will you help resurrect her from the ashes? I’m afraid George burned all her bras."

@ @ @ @

After a few minutes of deep contemplation, Ellen, the analytical businesswoman, announced, "Alright dear. We need a plan to turn plain old George into a first-class diva, without her crossing over to looking like a tramp."

Checking them off her fingers, "The first thing on our ‘to do list’ is get you your own makeup. Mine is not optimum for your swarthy complexion."

Going to finger two, "Then we need to assemble an appropriate wardrobe for a woman your age.

Moving to the next finger, "Of course, Heather will require her own lingerie and sleepwear. I won’t have you using mine. Next, we will need to select your signature scent. And lastly, every woman needs a large collection of pumps and heels to go with her outfits."

George shook his head in disbelief, "Ellen that sounds excessive for a one-day courtroom appearance."

Ellen waved her hand dismissively as if his concerns were foolish. She was almost giddy, "Dear I never do anything halfheartedly. Let’s pull out all the stops. Who knows where this one day may lead? We are going to have so much fun shopping for your trousseau and all the accessories that all girls must have. Being relatively new to the pink side, we have to atone for all the years that being a man retarded your feminine education."

A bewildered George replied, "I’m confused. I thought I would just borrow some of your things, slap on some lipstick and you could fix my hair. This is just a short-term thing. I have no intentions to continue this beyond the trial."

Ellen clapped her hands, "You really are clueless, aren’t you? Think about what happens to Heather after the trial. We need to be prepared for all contingencies."

George simply shrugged his shoulders unsure what response was expected of him.

"That reminds me, I need to make you an appointment with my hairdresser. We have so much to do and so little time to do it. Go take a shower," she directed.

With a furled brow he said, "Why, I just got out of the bathroom."

"Dear, you don’t understand. You may be clean but sleeping next to you I noticed you haven’t shaved your legs and underarms in quite some time. Take care of that while I run to the dollar store and pick you out something suitable to wear for shopping." Ellen was in her comfort zone. She enjoyed therapy shopping as much as the next woman, even more so when it was for her husband.

"Don’t give me that look George. This is in my wheelhouse. Put yourself in my hands and everything will fine."

George was finished with his second shower and shaving before Ellen returned. She swept into the house like someone on a mission to find her husband wearing a robe and sipping a cup of coffee. She sent him into the bedroom with her purchases while she fed the baby and enjoyed her own cup of coffee.

George came out from the bedroom wearing the floral dress Ellen had picked up, his makeup tastefully done for the day. Ellen looked critically at George's appearance and nodded in acceptance. "I knew that dress might not be all the flattering for you, but it is only temporary. I can see that I estimated your size properly."

After they both finished their coffee, Ellen put Heather’s hair in a ponytail. They loaded the baby, her stroller and a diaper bag into Ellen’s car and took off on their grand adventure with Ellen driving.

Their first stop was the largest mall in the area. After unloading the baby’s paraphernalia and loading the baby in her stroller. Ellen pushed the stroller and held Heather’s hand to calm his nerves. She led them right to the front of Leanne’s Hair and Makeup Studio. "Why do I have to go to a hair dresser?"

Ellen shook George's hand in a friendly manner. "We have to go to the salon. No lady would ever go out without being properly coiffured."

Heather was introduced to the pleasures of a beauty salon. He was pampered for the next hour. His hair was washed and cut in a pixie cut. Then he had his first profession makeover. It was Ellen’s intention to introduce Heather to the top of the line cosmetics administered by an expert. She insisted their licensed cosmetologist work on Heather's makeup. They left ninety minutes later, weighed down with a shopping bag containing sufficient concealer, skincare, eye, face, lips, and nail makeup to last a long time.

Heather thanked his wife by confessing, "The last year living as a housekeeper I was never able to look my best. It was hard enough being an ugly looking woman but I had to make do with all my makeup coming from the dollar store. As a maid, I couldn’t justify using my pittance of pay on quality stuff."

Ellen gave her husband a sympathetic look. "Dear, those days are over for you. From here on out, it’s my treat. Heather goes first class all the way in everything."

George was beginning to think that Ellen may have an ulterior motive, getting things that were needed well beyond what would be required for one day.

Then Ellen whisked them into the fragrance department. After testing several dozen perfumes, Ellen decided that the Caron’s Poivre scent was created with Heather in mind so they purchased a bottle plus some dusting powder.

Next on their sojourn was a stop in the shoe department. Ellen had Heather try on a mixture of shoes ranging from flats to 5-inch stilettos. They didn’t buy anything. Ellen explained they would come back after they decided on an outfit.

Next, Ellen lobbied Heather to look at woman’s dresses. Explaining that she thought Heather appearance should have a professional day look during her court. Getting Heather to the dress department was easier said than done. At times, she felt like a sheep dog herding her husband away from the siren song of the men's department.

She selected several classy dresses that, in her opinion, would be ideal for Heather and carried them to the changing rooms. Ellen had to actually push him into a fitting room and stood blocking the door, insisting that Heather try on each dress because she wasn’t moving until Heather complied. Once she was certain he had the dress on, she demanded that he come out onto the sales floor where she could see what Heather looked like in a fancy dress.

To placate his wife and get this ordeal over with, Heather tried on each selection and then sheepishly modeled them for her and anyone else wandering through the area.

Standing in front of Ellen, she had him turn in front of the bank of mirrors and walk a few steps so she could closely examine each ensemble. While he was sauntering back and forth, he thought, ‘She can bully me here in public I don’t want to make a scene; but wait until we get home. There was no way I am going into the courtroom wearing a dress.’

After he had paraded around and made a spectacle of himself, Ellen asked what he thought. He vetoed every option and refused to even discuss why. This got Ellen frustrated to the point she was getting antsy. If he wouldn’t wear a dress, she was forced to change tactics and had the store bring out a number of skirt and top combinations.

She demanded he try on a wide variety of skirts hoping to find something that would be appropriate and yet get his approval. Ellen felt a bit sorry for the frustrated sales lady who wore out a pair of shoes running back and forth. They went through all the available styles Ellen thought would look good on Heather, ranging from mini’s to full Midi pencil skirts, and then a knee length business skirt. As a last resort, she had him experiment with one that was ankle length. Heather remained steadfast in his refusal to wear either a dress or skirt.

Ellen finally had all she could take and led Heather by the hand to the food court where they could have a private tête-à-tête. That quickly turned into a full gob smacker of an argument over Heather wearing a dress to the trial.

Both antagonists had to consciously keep their voices down. Ellen was insistent that if Heather was going to make her big reveal, it was critical she should be as fashionable and feminine as possible. His last experience as a feminine man was a total disaster.

Ellen laid it out for him. He had to decide or get off the fence. Was he going to appear as a man or as a woman? The half and half persona just wasn’t going to cut it in a public setting. If he wanted to dress as a man at home that was one thing. But outside the house he had to make a commitment one way or another.

Her argument was so articulate he knew he had no other option but to concede. It took a while but George reluctantly conceded that point. However, he insisted that underneath all the paint and silk finery he was going to remain a man. He was only going to wear pants from this point forward, realistically they would be woman’s pants. By God they would still be pants!

Ellen unenthusiastically agreed to look at pantsuits. As they went through the racks of suits on display, Heather rejected all of them as being too girly. After the tenth ‘NO’, Ellen had a eureka moment. She pulled Heather aside and suggested, Alright dear, we can go your way. What do you think about Heather wearing a fashionable pair of jeans and a sweater to court?"

George thought about that for a nanosecond and agreed. Before they could shake on it, Ellen had a few conditions that she dropped on him. They were nonnegotiable if he wanted her help. Without waiting to hear her conditions, he agreed. George should have known he was a lamb being led to the slaughter. So happy he won the argument, he nonchalantly replied, "Sure whatever."

She detailed the conditions: 'He would have his jeans not an issue. However, they would be woman’s designer jeans.'

Ellen was insistent on the last stipulation. She would have the final say over everything else Heather wore for the trial. She wouldn’t tolerate any squabbling on her selections. It was her way or the highway to put it bluntly.

George thought wearing jeans was worth putting up with the other claptrap.

Heading back home, Ellen was happy as a clam, considering the trip a success. They may not have settled on an outfit, but she had acquired all of Heather's sizes. She would pop back to the mall and get what was needed later and spring it on her husband when it would be too late for him to do anything about it.

CHAPTER 23 - I put off getting dressed en-femme as long as I could. But in the end, it didn’t change anything.

Upon their arrival, they had a light lunch. George was so stressed out from the shopping trip that he stretched out on the couch to watch TV and maybe catch a catnap. Within minutes, he was sound asleep. Ellen left the dishes for Heather to do when he awoke from his nap and headed back to the mall to do some serious shopping.

She got home a few hours later. She quietly entered the garage door to scout out where George might be. Finding him still asleep, she quietly retrieved what would be needed for this afternoon and left most of her purchases in the car. She tiptoed past her husband and up to their bedroom. Anticipating a busy night, she lay down to take a nap herself.

Muted sounds from the kitchen woke her sometime later. Investigating, she found her spouse working to clean the oven, his head buried inside up to his shoulders. He was perspiring heavily as he struggled to scrub off the built-up crud on the sides. He paused to wipe the sweat from his brow and had an aha moment. He could not believe how much he had taken Ellen and all wives for granted over the years. As he worked to finish, he felt he was somehow paying for the sins of all slothful men everywhere.

As he finished and came to his feet, she cozied up to her husband, wrinkled her nose and suggested he take a shower and join her in the den. She played him like a virtuoso, and he responded like a Stradivarius in her hands. When he returned, she was waiting for him in front of the television.

She had George sit next to her and started the DVD she had purchased at the mall. It was a copy of last year’s Victoria’s Secret fashion show. While she and Heather watched the show together, Ellen pointed out the differences of a normal female walk and a runway model’s strut. She put the disk in an endless loop and had him memorize the way the fashion models glided rather than just walked. She pointed out that it wasn’t about getting from one point to the next, rather it was all about how they stepped and moved their hips that made the difference. For the next hour, they watched the scantily clad models sashaying their keisters across the screen.

George's attention was riveted on the skimpily clad well-built, somewhat dim woman. Ellen rushed to the bedroom and returned carrying a pair of 5-inch stilettos. Handing them to Heather she helped him put on the pair of ‘her shoes’ that she was going to loan him – when in fact they were his shoes destined for tomorrow's coming out party. She had him just walking around the house in them to get used to the height and break them in. She explained to him. "The last time I trained you how to get around in heels, it was just so you could walk in them without making a fool of yourself. This is a graduate level course. I want Heather to walk like she was a runway model. I know this will be hard but please give this your best effort. It will sell your persona." After an hour, he had broken in the shoes and was becoming comfortable in them. She put the tape on again and challenged him duplicate the walk. She would run a few seconds then have him copy what he saw. After an hour of stop and go, she had George put it all together while she yammered on with a continuous stream of suggestions. They kept it up until dinner time. When they finally broke, Heather was not yet ready for the runway. His interpretation of the runway stroll came out looking more like a facsimile of a stripper strut.

George, still wearing the heels, joined his wife as they made and ate dinner together. After the meal, they settled down with a bottle of Ellen’s best wine to watch a movie and relax. Ellen was concerned George would be too self-conscious about appearing as his feminine alter ego to be able to relax. To help him get a good night’s rest she dissolved a sleeping pill in each of his after-dinner wines, without telling him. She had previously staged everything in their bedroom where it waited to be sprung on her unsuspecting husband.

When the sleeping pills had started to take affect, she led the semi-conscious man to their bedroom. He perched on the edge of the bed and Ellen handed him a snifter of her best brandy. He downed the liqueur in three quick gulps. A couple of minutes later, his expression became lax and his eyes unfocused as his hand slipped off the empty sniffer. Ellen was standing nearby to catch him and laid him back on the bed.

She got his clothes off and laid him on the bed on top of the covers. While he was sound asleep, Ellen got a head start on the next day's transformation and gave her husband a pedicure and a manicure. It took a lot longer than she had expected because his nails had been neglected for months. By the time she was finished, she had his fingers and toes in great shape and glistening with clear polish. George was out cold and she rolled him onto his side so that he slept in the fetal position, which Ellen took as a symbolic image of his projected rebirth in the morning. She climbed in bed and pulled the covers over them both and spooned with her husband.

She slept restlessly feeling like a child on Christmas eve, waiting for tomorrow. Revenge was sweet but everything has a cost. She would get her revenge on Leon, at the cost of her husband’s manly pride. She knew Heather was going to put Leon behind bars where he couldn’t hurt anyone else. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when they took him away in cuffs.

Ellen was up early the next morning, while her husband woke groggily. He was so out of it that he did not notice the shine on his nails at first. It was a lovely warm summery day; which Ellen took as a foreshadowing of things to come. She brought her husband a cup of coffee to wake him up and then she sent him into the bathroom to shower, with a caution about keeping his hair dry. He dried off and went through to the bedroom, blushing furiously at his nakedness. He draped a towel about his shoulders and held a long bath towel under his chin and let it hang down below his waist.

One disappointed look from Ellen had him drop the bath towel. Now with only the towel around his shoulders, she motioned him over to her. She had given his makeover a lot of thought. She had watched yesterday’s makeover and envisioned her being able to make Heather attractive without going over the top. With his angular features, she didn’t think it was possible to make him pretty.

Not being a magician, she wasn’t going to try the impossible and make him glamorous. She sat him down at her vanity and started on his eyebrows. When she was done, they were sculpted a bit - not narrowed, but clean and neat. She applied his makeup so that it was subtle yet feminine in earth tones. She wanted Heather’s appearance to shout to the world she was an enticing woman. She started with a foundation layer, applying it with sponges. Next, she dusted his face softly with powder. Then came the eye shadow, in two different colors. One as the base and one for the highlight. After the eye shadow was applied, she added eye liner and mascara. She was very careful but quick. Once his eyes were done, she applied some blush to his cheekbones.

Satisfied with her work so far she said, Now for the final touch, your lips. I want to make them as dramatic as your eyes." She took a lip pencil in a dark red and circled the outline of his lips, making them a bit fuller. Filling that outline in, she applied a lipstick in virtually the same shade as the sweater he would be wearing. Then she added a shiny lip gloss that made his lips standout.

"There, finished. Now it’s time to get you dressed," she announced.

George looked at his face and was happy with what he saw. Heather was almost attractive. He started to relax. She led him still without any clothes into the spare bedroom where his outfit for the day was laid out on the bed. Walking in he saw nothing to raise his suspicions. There were blue jeans on the bed next to a red knit sweater. Little did he know what was in store for him.

Ellen turned to her husband and couldn’t help herself as she teased, "I have a husband with tits. Who’d have thunk it." Ellen giggled. She opened the underwear drawer and found the particularly fetching padded bra and panty set she had staged there. She threw it to Heather along with a pair of lightweight sheer black pantyhose. "Put these on!" she instructed.

He squirmed into the panty hose and stood while studying the bra in his hands. He hated to admit it, but the garment was elegant. It was white with a delicate floral pattern and lace trim that reached over the straps as well as around the banding towards the clasps. He struggled getting it on. The three hooks and eyes were a challenge but, eventually, he managed to fasten it. Only to find the bra was so thin and tight fitting his nipples made noticeable convex bumps in the fabric.

Once he was dressed in his lingerie, Ellen examined him and, as she expected, found his form wanting. Going back to her underwear drawer, she withdrew a pair of silicone breast inserts and stuffed them into his bra before Heather could react. She did not waste any time as she moved on to the silicone hip pads. These were held in place by Heather's pantyhose.

Standing back, Ellen was gratified to see she had succeeded in creating the type of womanly figure she was going for. Nothing else was needed as his caboose was fantastic and didn’t need any help.

Ellen handed Heather the jeans to put on. He struggled to get them up over his hips and ass. A questioning look to Ellen was all it took for her to explain, "They're the latest fashion trend, skinny jeans."

He pulled and tugged and still couldn’t get them buttoned. Ellen smiled and added, "I may have gotten them a size too small. I wanted them to be extra snug. Remember your pledge, if you could wear jeans, I could pick out the outfit. Now stop stalling."

Heather rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. He pulled and jumped up and down to get them on. He sucked his stomach in as far as it would go. In the end, it took the both of them working together to get the zipper up and the waist buttoned."

Ellen picked up the red sweater and helped pull it over her husband’s head careful not to disturb his hair or makeup. The outfit clung to his body like wet paint. Like the jeans the sweater was a size to small so it accentuated his womanly breasts and slim waist. The overall effect was quite sexy. Ellen was pleased she was glad the tights she had Heather wear had a strong and snug crotch, otherwise he would have shown a very unladylike bulge.

She then slipped a pair of classic black stilettos dress pumps on to Heather's feet. He immediately recognized them from the previous night. Ellen had him take a few practice laps of the bedroom to make sure he could walk in the stilettos with the restrictive jeans. Ellen thought with those CFM pumps, the height of the heel actually put a little extra wiggle into his movements. Which was her ultimate objective in selecting them for his footwear.

In his ears she placed sparkly, but little, studs. Around his neck she placed a single strand gold necklace. On his left-hand ring finger, he wore a sparkly ring and a new woman’s watch. The finishing touch was perfume, just a spritz, but the floral scent surrounded him delightfully.

His brown locks just brushed his shoulders. The way it framed his face really helped to feminize his features. His makeup was simple but perfectly applied. Ellen’s voiced her opinion, "Heather dear, you make a very attractive woman."

George blushed, it was nice hearing the compliment, but he didn’t really believe her concerning his appearance.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes rolled back into his sockets in shock. Ellen was curious what her husband thought of his image, "Heather, tell me what you are thinking."

"I looked at myself in the mirror. The sweater and jeans are a perfect fit for a streetwalker. The image I am looking at is not a man dressed as a woman. Rather I look like a walking advertisement for the local brothel."

Ellen laughed at his discomfort. "Naw. A high-priced call-girl, perhaps, but definitely not a hooker. Now relax. Everything is going to be fine, just remember what we practiced."

All the trappings of his male self had vanished beneath the camouflage of makeup and tight-fitting clothes. He choked back sobs, mortified. The blush that reddened Heather's cheeks spoke volumes. He realized that despite the modesty of the pants, this getup would be a real attention magnet, the opposite of what he had hoped for when he insisted on wearing pants. This outfit eviscerated all signs of his manhood. Ellen was about to add the finishing touch of a red bow to his hair, but George put his foot down and refused this last indignity. Enough was enough.

He told his wife, "I'm feeling very uncomfortable. This is a little too sexy and off-putting for me."

"You look very pretty, Sweetie." Ellen complimented him trying to raise his self-confidence.

George found it hard to hide his cynicism so he merely nodded his head.

Ellen wasn’t going to let George’s negativism get him down.

"George don't ever doubt yourself. Remember what you learned from the video. If you do, Heather will knock their socks off when you walk into that courtroom. I promise. Trust me this one more time. Now get your things, it is time we got this train moving."

CHAPTER 24 - First she crawled, then she walked, now today she has learned to fly.

Heather, under Ellen’s direction, checked his makeup one last time and took the time to fill his handbag with the feminine essentials that Ellen had laid out for him; a cherry red lipstick, his new Estée Lauder's powder compact, a brush and comb combination, a miniature glass bottle of Heather’s favorite perfume and a lacy handkerchief Ellen’s mother had given her. When he had everything in there, just to tweak Ellen’s nose, he made a quick trip to the bathroom and returned with a pack of condoms and a tampon. He made a major production of putting them is his purse.

Ellen looked at him with curiosity, eyes ablaze. "George, what’s the idea? Is there something you aren’t telling me?"

Heather smiled mischievously and replied, "Relax, I don't anticipate using these items but a girl has to be ready for all contingencies. Isn’t that what you told me when I ask why you always have a box of Trojan condoms along with your feminine hygiene products in your purse. Besides if my purse is searched, they will provide an air authenticity."

Ellen realized when she was being had and gave her husband a playful sock to his shoulder. Playing the game of one-upmanship and to get back at him, she hurried to the bathroom and came back with something in her closed hand.

She said, "Open up". She popped a small white pill in his month and told him, "Swallow!"

"Ellen, what the hell was that?"

It really was an aspirin, but that’s not what she told her husband. "It’s a birth control pill silly, you know condoms are not 100% effective, it’s better to be safe than sorry. If that doesn’t make you feel girly nothing will."

Then Heather's cheeks turned deep red as he blushed.

This was one of her husband’s tells so Ellen asked, "What else are you hiding dear?"

Heather took a deep breath and braced himself as he confessed. "I am mortified to admit this, when I have them with me, I feel feminine, like a real girl and not a man pretending to be one. I thought that was the objective of this dressing exercise."

She drove. Heather sat in the passenger seat and fidgeted his nerves were stretched taut. They dropped Ariel off at the babysitter and then they proceeded to the courthouse at high speed. Ellen, as a driver, treated the posted speed limits as mere suggestions.

At the courthouse, they circled the parking lot twice and before Ellen gave up finding a space up close. She dropped Heather off at the front and went to park the car. Heather walked inside past the throngs of people milling about the front steps and halls. His heart was racing and he was conscious of the swishing of the pantyhose underneath his jeans. It wasn't a long walk to his destination, yet he felt flushed as if he had run the entire way.

He was there only a few minutes, but felt like but an eternity to George as he was sure everyone was staring at him in his skin-tight attire. When Ellen finally arrived at his side, she took his hand into hers to reassure him everything was going to be alright. About the time Heather had started to calm down, the bailiff stuck his head out the door and announced they were ready for Mr. Trousdale.

Ellen gave him a few last words of encouragement. "You'll make a kick-ass impression just remember the mantra I taught you. Stand up straight and push your bra encased hooters out as far as they will go. Keep thinking, shoulders, hips, and heels."

Ellen gave him a peck on the cheek for luck and quickly slipped into the courtroom to take a seat in the gallery section while her husband was collecting himself.

He pushed his way through the crowd and paused at the heavy oak doors. He was emotionally invested and totally committed to this now. Leon was going down no matter the cost to his manly self-image.

If he was going to come out to the world as a female, he was going to do it to the best he could. He was going to march in there as a woman, not a man dressed as one. His cheeks felt warm as he took a deep breath. Knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer, he clutched his purse tightly and struggled to open the courthouse door. It took all his strength to open one door. With a sense of dread, he headed into the courtroom. Ellen, along with everyone in the court room, turned to watch Mr. Trousdale make an entrance. He stepped inside and let the door close behind him. He paused briefly to calm his nerves. He briefly locked eyes with Ellen who gave him an encouraging nod.

There was an audible gasp as the room full of people didn’t see a man in the doorway as they expected, but rather a slim woman looking like she had just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. A hushed silence fell over the room as George strode to the witness stand. He walked with his head held high and with as much dignity as he could muster. It took his full concentration to duplicate last night's rehearsed walk. As his muscle memory kicked in, he recreated a truly female gait. He projected a man-melting version of the runway model strut. His posture was up and confident, butt cheeks moving sexily with every step. With his head up and shoulders back, he led with his boobs. His arms swung loosely back and forth while his hips swiveled from side-to-side. Just like he had practiced ad nauseum.

Ellen, her heart filled with admiration, tracked his movements with her eyes as he sauntered to the witness stand. He sat and crossed his legs in a feminine manner and gracefully placed his handbag on the floor then rested his hands in his lap. Ellen marveled at how smoothly he moved in those stilettos and how he crossed those incredibly long legs as he sat. If she didn’t know better, she would swear she was watching a fashion model. She mentally patted herself on the back for the great job she had training him for this moment.

A confused looking bailiff asked, "Are you Mr. Trousdale, George Trousdale?"

In his best feminine voice, with just a hint of a Hispanic accent, he answered, "Si senor, I am."

Ellen could feel the air being sucked from the room.

Leon turned to his lawyer, and muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, "That is not George Trousdale! Make her prove it. What kind of a game is the government playing?"

The judge banged his gavel and called for silence.

The bailiff swore George in and the judge turned things over to the government to present their case.

The prosecutor jumped up and asked George. "Sir, can you identify the man who hid the drugs in your bag?

"Most certainly, he is sitting at the table next to my old boss Mr. Carlson."

"Mr. Trousdale, do you have any aliases?"

"Yes Sir. For the last year or so, I have been living under the name of Heather Trousdale."

The defense attorney interrupted hoping to show he was simply a transvestite running away from his male life, "Isn’t it true you tried to hide your true male identity because you wanted to look like a woman to attract men?"

The prosecution objected saying that, the witness’s sexual orientation was irrelevant. The judge concurred and allowed George to go ahead with his testimony.

George was insulted and was tempted to answer the question anyway, but resisted and said, "I lived this way only to avoid being identified and arrested, for something I was framed for. I didn’t do it."

George’s testimony went on to show he was living as a female under duress. It was only a disguise, not a life choice. He won over the jury, coming across as completely credible.

The defense’s plan of making him unbelievable as a pervert pretending to be a woman fell apart quickly. Instead, his story of being forced into skirts to stay out of jail had the courtrooms rapt attention. As he explained, he was forced by circumstances to suppress his male ego and live as a woman.

His lawyer interrupted his testimony, "Excuse me Mr. Trousdale. As everyone can see, you don’t look like anything like a man. I would think no one meeting you for the first time would question your true gender."

"Why thank you, I was under close scrutiny the entire time so I was forced to mimic female mannerisms to be as authentic as possible to escape detection."

You could see the men on the jury feeling sorry for what he had to endure. The women respected him for how completely and realistically he had embraced his feminine persona.

By freely admitting his lifestyle, he demonstrated he was a man of integrity and had a spine of steel. Willing to do whatever was required even giving up his manhood to ensure there wasn’t a miscarriage of justice.

The defense could see they were in deep kimchi, so Leon's attorney asked for a brief recess.

When the trial reconvened, it was announced that Leon and the government had come to a plea deal. He would plead guilty and provide information on his drug contacts and suppliers, in exchange for no more than 15 years in jail with a chance of parole after 10.

After court was adjourned, Ellen pushed her way through the crowd to congratulate her husband. She caught up to him in the crowded hall. She ran to embrace him, her momentum almost knocking him over. Her arms encircled him to keep him from toppling over and ended up holding him off his feet by several inches. She spun him around to where they were face to face and gave him a full-bodied smack on the kisser. They smooched with a fervor normally reserved for the bedroom. As they stood playing tonsil hockey, everyone nearby in the corridor became curious, much like the looky-loos at a traffic accident, about the two lesbians necking in the courthouse halls.

After a time, the curiosity of the spectators turned to aversion. Despite the liberal bent of California, the passion displayed in the public setting by the same sex couple was a bit disconcerting to the general public. Lesbianism was not looked upon favorably in this town.

After a few polite coughs, the love birds finally got the hint. Ellen let him down and they found their way outside holding hands and headed to the car. They were going to lunch to celebrate. Heather felt he was walking on air. Just as they arrived at the car, Ellen's phone rang. George watched her face change from euphoric to troubled.

"What is it Ellen?"

"It’s a disaster. My corporate accountant has just been in a serious auto accident.

The first word from the hospital is he is in critical condition. It’s the middle of tax season. I’m so screwed he won’t be able to get my taxes in on time."

George offered his professional opinion. "Ellen, it is no big deal. I can help you file for an extension."

"You don’t understand. I was counting on the tax return to keep the business afloat. We have been doing very well. The loan I took out to start the business is coming due next month. That will wipe out all my cash reserves. With all my business improvements and new hires, I am over extended."

She apologized to her husband; they would have to postpone their celebration until later in the evening. She had to go in to the office. She didn’t have time to drop George off at home, he could take a taxi or go with her to work.

George was shaken, "I don’t feel comfortable going out on my own dressed like this. If I go with you, can I just stay in the car?"

"Of course, honey. I wouldn’t really recommend it though. This may take hours. Why don’t you come in and relax in our waiting room while I see what needs to be done?"

"What will the girls at work think?"

"They’ll think I have a sexy girlfriend. Seriously, it will be alright. There are usually a number of clients in the waiting room. Just sit among them and try to not stand out. We always have a pot of coffee on. You’ll get by. It’s certainly better than sitting in the stuffy car for hours."

Ellen wouldn’t take no for an answer. She insisted that Heather accompany her. Arriving at her office after going Mach three to get there, Ellen practically leapt from her car and hurried into the building. Heather's skyscraper heels wouldn’t let her keep up. He followed several paces behind as Ellen quickly disappeared behind the two large front doors. His shaking hand reached for the door and pushed it open. He forced a smile at the serious faces that stopped talking as he walked in. He felt unsteady and quickly went to the nearest chair, happy to be off his feet. Posture prefect - maybe a little too rigid. His hands were in his lap, fingers clenched so tight his knuckles were white.

When Ellen realized her husband wasn’t behind her she was sure he eventually would catch up. Now she had more important things to worry about. She found Nancy to get a briefing on where they stood. Ellen and Nancy left him sitting in the lobby and went into what George assumed was his wife’s office.

George tried to relax and wait. After getting himself a cup of cappuccino, he scanned the end tables for something to read. The only thing there were past issues of Vogue, Elle, Southern Living, and In Style. George would have killed for a sports magazine, but no such luck. He returned to his seat and waited and waited.

A long-time later Ellen came out, her eyes red as if she had been crying. Heather thinking fast, ad-libbed. "Mrs. Trousdale, it looks like somebody needs a happy meal. What’s the problem?"

She took him aside where they could talk privately. She explained they had just heard from the hospital. Their accountant had died and she had called around to find someone to help out. Being the tax season every CPA in town was tied up with other accounts. She gave George her patented sad puppy dog look and asked if he could take a quick look at the books to see where they stood. As he stood, he noticed the other woman in the office had congregated around him and Ellen, wanting to know what was going on.

Ellen had to explain something to them so she said, "This is my friend Chantelle. She is a senior accounting student at San Diego State, before we all panic let’s see what she thinks." That placated the women, hoping this stranger would be their savior.

George closed the door and was isolated in the accountant’s office. He spent the better part of an hour scanning what was there. He found at first glance that everything needed was there, it just needed to be organized. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what Ellen wanted. He stuck his head out the door and asked Mrs. Trousdale to come in and he showed her what he had found. Ellen asked if he could help. Without thinking of the consequences, George folded like a cheap suit and volunteered to take over the job. He was a bit out of touch but was sure he could fill in until Ellen could find someone else. They walked out to where the others waited and they found themselves surrounded by the office staff.

Ellen hushed the crowd and proclaimed, "The good news is that Chantelle thinks everything needed is there. I can assure you everyone’s job is secure." Ellen went on, "Chantelle’s older sister Heather is an experienced accountant and is currently unemployed and looking for work. Chantelle called her and she immediately volunteered to join us. She will be here tomorrow. I hope you will all give her a warm welcome."

Before George could ponder the ramifications of what Ellen had promised, there was a celebratory cheer. Chantelle was mobbed and basked in the glow of a round of applause and more than a few pats on the back.

CHAPTER 25 -If you don’t like something, change it, if you can’t change it, change the way you think about it.

Needless to say, Ellen was thrilled. It was getting late and they had to pick up Ariel from the sitter. Ellen put her daughter in her car seat, but, rather than heading home, she drove to the mall.

George felt a sinking in his stomach and asked, "What’s up?"

"Dear I am sorry; it appears you are going to have to stay as Heather for a while longer."

"Wait a minute! I said I would help. I never said anything about doing it as Heather."

Ellen looked over at him.

"All my records are at the office, and I have promised the office staff that Heather will be coming in to work starting tomorrow. If Heather is going to take over the books, she will need to accompany me to work. Which will require new outfits for every day wear. No respectable woman would wear the same thing two days in a row.

"Besides what you are currently wearing is really not appropriate for office attire. You stay here with Ariel. I’ll just run in a pick up something appropriate for you. Then we can go home and celebrate your successful day."

George held Ariel in his arms and felt a maternal rush of emotion. As Ellen walked away, George rolled down his window and hollered after her, "Remember, no dresses."

Ellen turned her head and with an enigmatic smile on her face and said, "Whatever dudette." Then gave Heather a thumbs up.

Twenty minutes later, Ellen returned burdened with two armloads of packages. She threw them in the trunk and drove her family home. This time actually stopping for red lights, though she only slowed down for stop signs.

Once home, they unloaded her purchases. Heather was astonished that Ellen had bought not one but three pantsuits with matching shoes.

Before Heather could ask. she explained, "Honey, you may be good, but there is no way you can do everything in one day. I bought you enough to get you through until we can fill out your wardrobe."

George resigned himself to a short-time commitment as Tax Day was only a month away. He was just happy none of the outfits were dresses or skirts.

They fed and changed Ariel and put her to bed. With the door closed and the baby monitor on, Ellen grabbed Heather and leaned down to kiss him passionately, forcing her tongue past his lips and into mouth and throat. Heather submitted and leaned his head back as far as Ellen's aggression demanded.

Recovering from the kiss, Heather told Ellen, "You worked all day. You go watch the news. I'll take care of dinner and call you in a few minutes when everything is done." He kissed her cheek and patted her on the bottom to send her on her way.

Ellen relaxed in her favorite easy chair, put her feet on the coffee table, and used her phone to read a few emails and texts. She turned on the local news to find that the lead story was about a prominent businessman who had pled guilty to conspiracy to smuggling cocaine. Just as they were transitioning to the sports news, Heather walked into the den. He took one look at his wife and, with a grin that was wide and bright, he demanded in a stern voice, "Get your feet off the furniture. Were you raised in barn?"

Ellen jauntily responded, "Yeah, whatever."

George waited for her to comply, then said over his shoulder, "I slaved over a hot stove and this is the thanks I get. Dinners served, come and get it."

Ellen teasingly commented, "You housewives are all the same! Nag, nag: Hang up your clothes! Put the toilet seat down. Eat your vegetables! Get your feet off the furniture. Lord, it's enough to drive a person crazy."

George tried to fight it but couldn’t keep a smile off his face.

Ellen followed her husband to the dining room table.

The table looked beautiful. Heather had set it with the good china. Ellen went to sit at her normal place at the head of the table. Heather beat her there and pulled the chair out for Ellen to sit. She sat down, eager to dig in.

Rather than sitting herself, Heather disappeared into the kitchen and emerged a few minutes later with two wine glasses. Heather served Ellen a glass of white wine as he brought the platter of meat to the table. He pulled out a chair opposite Ellen for himself and sat with his legs crossed in a feminine fashion at the knees. With his back rigid, he put his hands in his lap. Ellen leaned forward, her elbows on the table and asked how he had done all this so fast.

Heather's answer was simple, "It’s called a microwave."

"Well it smells fantastic." Holding up her wine class she proposed a toast, "To love!"

Heather clinked his glass and took a sip of his wine. "Yummy. That's good."

Ellen prepared to eat her salad and replied. "I should hope so. It costs $500 a bottle."

Heather nearly spit out the wine he'd just sipped. "$500! Oh, my God, I'm so sorry! I should have asked first! I just assumed."

Ellen laughed from her belly at his reaction. "Relax, honey. If I didn't mean for it to be consumed, I wouldn't buy it. So, enjoy."

Neither were hungry for food. They both played with their food but sat at the table and nibbled at their food until they finished the wine.

After they had finished the meal, Heather announced he would clean up. Telling Ellen to go get ready for bed.

"Are you sure I can't help you with this mess?" asked Ellen.

Heather turned his head to respond, but Ellen engaged him in a tender kiss before he could. Breaking the kiss, he turned to finish his task. She moved up behind him while his attention was elsewhere. She put her arms around the little homemaker and gave him a hug from behind and he responded by pressing back into the embrace. He turned his head so they could kiss again. Without breaking the kiss Ellen maneuvered herself and her little lover so that they were facing each other again. Her hands dropped to his rear end where they lingered. The material in his pants held his round little bottom firmly and she was incredibly turned on by the feel of his firm panty clad tush.

When the kiss ended, Heather smiled appreciatively and said, "I'm just going to rinse everything and put it in the dishwasher. I'll join you in a few minutes."

Ellen, in a slightly inebriated state, tossed her hair in a sexy gesture, raised an eyebrow at Heather, and gave her the ‘I feel like a little loving expression’, that her husband had always loved. George laughed; she was so obvious. Ellen heartily enjoyed his reaction then grinned gleefully as she replied, "Do hurry or I will have to start without you. There’s a package in the guest bathroom. Please just for tonight will Heather wear it to bed."

George’s curiosity aroused entered the bathroom and did his business and brushed his teeth. On the counter was a bag, it was stuffed with white tissues. He plucked them out one at a time until he reached the bottom of the sack, he uncovered a blue translucent piece of fluff. Once removed he discovered a light fluffy nightgown. He held it up to himself and saw it was his size.

He was caught in a dilemma. He was a man even if his manhood didn’t act like it. If Ellen wanted him to be a swishy girly boy, he would play along for now, after all she did say it was just for tonight. Tomorrow he would reassert his manhood and things would be different.

Tired of waiting, Ellen made an impatient tutting noise from the hall outside the bathroom door. When that got no response she said, "How’s it going in there? Be careful getting your arms through the sleeves it is so fragile it is easy to tear."

Meanwhile in the bathroom, George had a blinding insight into what he was allowing this woman to do to him. He even considered putting up a struggle. Looking down at his titties, he knew it was too late. His arms found the sleeve holes and slid through, and his head emerged from the neckline. He was wearing a sexy negligee.

As he looked at his appearance in the mirror, his pulse and breath quickened, his chest heaved which only accentuated the melons on his chest. It might be the bottle of wine speaking. He knew in his heart he wasn’t pretty; but, at the moment, the person in the mirror was a sexy looking woman. Ellen asked what was keeping him. He braced himself and swallowed the last of his manly pride and steadied himself for his wife’s reaction as he stepped out into the hall.

Ellen was waiting just outside the bathroom door. When he emerged from the safety of the lavatory, Ellen about swooned as the thought popped in her head, ‘God, he looks so adorable in that blue nightie. If I didn’t know better, I would swear that a woman was standing in front of me and not my husband.’

He blushed as he waited for his wife’s reaction. Then he saw an expression on Ellen’s face that he had never seen before and hoped it was lust and not revulsion, having never seen Ellen in lust before. He wasn’t sure what to do, jump her bones or play the part of a vestal virgin and run away in feigned fright. It may have been the alcohol again but he thought the situation called for the appearance of an unsullied maiden.

He turned and fled to the relative safety of the kitchen. As he ran, he tossed back the taunt, "Catch me if you can."

It was his first time actually running with his new chest attributes totally unsupported and he wasn’t prepared for what happened as they bounced merrily every which way. Ellen let out a big belly laugh and moved across the dimly lit room with elfin like grace. Heather was easy to catch and he giggled and struggled with mock fright as Ellen rushed to him and, without warning, threw one arm around his back and the other behind his knees and swooped him off his feet and into her arms. Heather offered himself, willingly, as Ellen lifted him. He squealed playfully and giggled as he threw his arms around Ellen's strong shoulders to keep from falling.

Heather, cradled in the strong, confident arms of his love responded, "Oh you are so strong. Woe unto me! Whatever will become of little old me?" He buried his tittering face in her neck.

Lifting Heather as if he were a bride on her wedding night, Ellen carried him over the threshold and to the bedroom.

He squealed as she literally tossed him through the air to land on the mattress and then crawled on top of him. His feminine nubbins where standing up proud and firm. Ellen pinched his nipples with just the right amount of ‘ouchiness’. That commenced a playful bout of love making. Heather reciprocated by nursing on Ellen’s breasts. His mouth and tongue performed heroically during their genital gymnastics.

The sex was intense and satisfying even if it was limited to oral sex. In no time at all, they were both euphoric in the throes of passion. By morning, they both had enjoyed their bedroom Olympics. Heather earned more than one gold medal that night.

Chapter 26 - The first day at a new job is always stressful

The next morning, Ellen ran a bath for her husband. As he soaked, she laid out his outfit for the day. Stepping out of the bath water, he dried off and went through to the bedroom, being uncomfortable at his nakedness. He rushed to the dresser to get something to cover his nudity. Ellen was there waiting for him. She opened her drawer and naughtily pulled out a black lace thong and panty set then handed them to him.

"Oh, you bitch," he said laughing. "Black lace? You have to be kidding?" The skimpy black panties which Heather found himself holding in his hand were very sexy and a deliberate invitation to dalliance. George wondered what her real motivation was.

"I got it because I find it sexy, I was hoping you would too. I want to make you happy, besides if you are going to be a girl I kind of hoped you would be a girly girl."

"Oui, oui Madame" said Heather sarcastically, hoping Ellen wasn’t being serious. After the blue nightie, he had his doubts.

In the end, he went to her drawer and made a different selection. He opted for more utilitarian undergarments to start the day with, choosing a plain white bra and panty set. As an afterthought, he added a package of Hanes sheer tights. All in pleasing, gray tones. Once he had the underwear on, Ellen handed him what he thought was a woman's tee shirt. She called it a chemise. Heather found it was as comfortable and silky as the panties.

He put on the outfit Ellen had picked out for him. A very businesslike ensemble. It was a charcoal gray polyester pantsuit featuring all over lace details with a crewneck and three-quarter flared sleeves. Once it was on the ever-present feelings of wrongness faded as he fastened the belt.

Ellen handed Heather a pair of white patent leather 3-inch Paco Gil needle heels. Heather gave Ellen a cynical look. Her reply was, "Try them on I believe they will fit perfectly."

"I’m sure they will. I am also sure they will torture my feet. My question is why do I have to wear heels? It’s not like I’ll be interacting with customers."

"Dear, I have a very strict dress code for everyone in my office. I am already making an exception on you not wearing a dress or skirt. My employees must present a stylish appearance no matter their position."

George was not surprised at the strict dress code. She never left the house without being dressed impeccably. Heather pouted as he slipped his feet in the heels. Ones that Ellen was sure would force him to take small ass-wiggling steps like the other girls in her employ.

Ellen then embellished the ensemble with a string of pearls, a sparkly tennis bracelet, and a chic feminine watch. As that wasn’t enough, Ellen sat Heather down and applied press on nails to each finger. Ellen couldn’t help but marvel what a difference long nails made. For the first time, she realized that George had small, slim hands with delicately boned fingers. Ellen was sure with the nails on he could be a hand model for any woman’s magazine. George sat staring as his hands and tried to recover his manly dignity. Ellen interrupted his reflection and told him, "We won’t bother with makeup. I’ve made other arrangements for your first day."

On the way to work, Ellen made a detour to her beauty shop.

George asked, "Why, the girls have already seen me?"

"Dear, I foresaw this possibility. They saw a woman I named Chantelle that looked like a teenager coming straight from a day at the mall. We need to change your appearance enough so they will see a mature woman not a teenybopper. When we leave here, I promise there will be no resemblance to the girl that was there last evening. My intention is they won’t recognize you. If anyone says anything, I will remined them Heather is Chantelle’s big sister."

The shop was waiting for them and Heather was led right to a chair.

When the cosmetologist asked what Heather wanted, Ellen spoke for her and was very clear, "It’s her first day at a new job. She needs to look her best. Heather is a professional businesswoman, so I don’t want anything dramatic, just a very feminine day time look. Just be sure you don’t use any of the long-lasting stuff."

The beautician ignored Heather and talked directly to Ellen, asking if she wanted her to do something with Heather's hair. She was told absolutely no by Ellen who added, "We don’t have time today so we will stick with the ponytail."

Heather was momentarily happy with that pronouncement. After a fast makeover the ladies left to get to work. Once back in the car, Ellen handed him a tube of lipstick in the same shade he was wearing.

"Honey, put this in your purse. To me, lipstick is the most conspicuous symbol of femininity. If you are going to blend in with the other ladies at work, you must mimic their behavior and compulsively check your makeup and frequently reapply it. All my employees are ladylike girls. It is the nature of the beast in this profession. You will need to follow their example to blend in. The last thing we want is a close scrutiny of you."

Heather got into the car with a lump in the pit of his stomach. Ellen patted his knee and tried to console him. "Honey dragging you to a beauty salon is not vindictive. This beauty treatment is for your own good. With the way you look now I am sure our charade will enable you to impersonate a woman so well no one will know you weren't born one. It will only be for a few weeks at most."

George slumped in his seat as he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. He wasn't sure what he was going to do. He wiped the tears away with the back of his hand.

Ellen was concerned he was losing it so she tried a different tactic. "Dear, there is no crying over spilled milk. Today you are a pretty lady on the first day of the rest of her professional life. Try to forget about the past. You’ll do fine! I have every confidence in you, you only need to believe in yourself. Besides, this is only for the time you are working in my office. You did say it will only take a few weeks to do my books."

George felt he had to say something about his appearance. "Okay that is all fine. After all of those efforts, in all honesty, I am still not attractive."

Looking into his made-up eyes Ellen spoke from her soul. "Darling, outward attractiveness is nice, but having a beautiful heart is priceless! The old saying that beauty is only skin deep, maybe good folk lore but in the real-world appearances do make a difference. You are attractive enough to pass as a woman. I am not preparing you for a beauty pageant."

George made a scrunchy face. Tired of trying to reason with him, Ellen tried being frank, "My dear husband, I have put my life’s blood into building up my business. I unapologetically demand my staff maintain the highest grooming standards which means for my female employees a dress, heels, and perfect makeup at all times. As of now, you are a representative of my company. As such, whenever Heather is on the premises, she will be as feminine as possible. You will maintain a ladylike demeanor at all times. Is that understood?"

George added, "Fine, I’ll go along with your guidelines inasmuch as it will only be until I get your taxes done."

Pulling into her reserved parking place, Ellen got out and waited on her husband. Walking to the building she advised him, "If you have any problems with your work mates come and get me. I will be in my office most of the day."

She led them to her private entrance. Heather followed in her wake. He could feel a tide of panic rising inside as the blood hammered in his ears. He had been out as a woman before but this felt different. How would Heather be accepted as a business woman in the real world?

"I don’t think I can do this Ellen; I’m feeling sick to my stomach. As a maid, I was inconspicuous. As your accountant, I feel I’ll be in the spotlight. How long can I keep my true identity from your assistant?"

"That is not an issue, she already knows all about you."

"ALL?"

"If you are asking does she know what’s nestled in your pretty panties. The answer is yes."

"Ellen, how could you?" His voice was hoarse with fear.

"Relax, she is not only my business partner but my best girlfriend. Why she, Beth and I have shared many a bottle of wine while discussing your situation before I broke you out of that Mexican penitentiary. She is onboard with your coming to work here. Give her a chance, I bet you two will become friends. In fact, we have a lunch date with her today."

At that, Ellen called for Nancy. She came running, anxious to see this man Ellen had told her so much about. Arriving slightly out of breath, Nancy slid to a stop a few feet away from this tall woman in a classy pantsuit. She studied him like he was a specimen under a microscope.

Turning to Ellen she gushed, "Good heavens Ellen! Your description of Heather didn’t do him justice. You have done a marvelous job. Looking at him I would never suspect his true gender. If he is half as good an accountant as he is a woman, our problems are solved."

"Nancy, will you show Heather her office? Issue her a company phone and tablet and introduce her to the other ladies. For months, I had our wedding pictures on my desk. His face might be familiar to some of the ladies. In case anyone notices a family resemblance, tell them she is my husband’s cousin. She has a lot of work to do so get on with it."

"Sure, thing boss. Heather, follow me. You are lucky your office is right across from the powder room. I am sure you will find out the lighting in there is excellent for makeup touchups."

Kellie, one of the interns, was passing by and overheard the conversation. She added, "There is also a tampon dispenser in there when a girl is surprised by her time of the month."

Heather smiled and nodded thanks at the girl who was attempting to be helpful.

Heather spent the rest of the morning with her nose buried in the books. Most of that time was consumed in organizing the material and laying out a game plan to get the job done. He did fine one major deduction his predecessor had overlooked which would save Ellen a significant amount of money. Surprisingly, all the necessary documents and records were there, just not clearly organized. What he thought was going to be a nightmare turned out to just be a matter of slugging through mountains of paperwork and double checking everything before filling out the appropriate forms. In his old office, he had secretaries to help with that. He guessed in this situation he was going to be his own secretary. He suddenly wished his typing skills were better.

At noon, Ellen stuck her head in to call Heather for lunch. Ellen drove her and Nancy to the country club. She treated her two best girlfriends to lunch at her exclusive club. They all chatted away, discussing their work day. Ellen was delighted to hear Heather's assessment of the situation. It was far better than she could have hoped for. She was buoyant, almost to the point of being giddy. No mention was made of Heather's masquerade, aside from Ellen subtly reminding him to touchup his lips after eating. They were relaxing over glasses of ice tea when the maître’d approached their table and announced, "Mrs. Trousdale, your taxi is here."

Heather looked at his wife, "El, what’s going on?"

Ellen overlooked his familiarity this time. She would take up that matter with her employee, Heather, when they got home.

She faced her hubby and informed him, "I have been thinking this morning. I tend to work late most nights. I don’t feel right leaving Ariel at a babysitter that long. From what you have said, if you concentrate you will have no trouble getting the books in order." Ellen talking to her employee, not her husband went on, "I have decided to cut you back to a part time employee. You will work half days, then pick up Ariel and take her home and watch her until I get there. That will also give you a chance to put your maid training to use. Make sure the house is clean when I get home. Am I making myself clear Heather?"

"Yes ma’am."

A browbeaten Heather stood, checked his purse and wallet to ensure he had sufficient cash to pay for the cab. He went over and kissed Ellen on the check.

Another familiarity she will have to stop dead in its tracks. As her employee, their public status must remain formal.

As he turned to leave Ellen called after him, "Heather, I will be home at 7, I would appreciate it if you had dinner waiting."

A really pissed off George sat in the back of the cab and stewed. ‘So now I am an employee, babysitter, maid and cook. That can’t possibly reflect positively on how Ellen views my manliness. I should probably see if Ellen has a maid’s outfit I can wear.’

During the ride home, the cab driver was flirtatious, but Heather just ignored him. After stopping at the babysitter to pick up Ariel, they arrived at their driveway. The driver rushed to open the door for his fare. He repeatedly called him ma’am. George was having problems with being addressed with the female honorific. He took the money from his bag and handed it to the driver. He felt a bit odd not having pockets.

He unlocked the front door and stepped through. Once the door was closed, before he even put the baby down, he kicked off his heels and sighed in relief.

He took the baby in her carrier with him and looked in the kitchen to see what he had available to put together for dinner. He had no cooking skills so whatever he made it had to be simple. Looking through the refrigerator and freezer. He found enough ingredients to make an omelet. He had eggs, ham, cheese, onions, and green peppers. Even a novice chief couldn’t mess up eggs and toast.

Everything was laid out on the counters. He estimated it would only take 20 minutes to put it all together.

He looked at his watch and realized he had hours to kill. He brought the baby with him into the den where he collapsed on the couch. He put his feet up and relaxed. After a few minutes, he started to feel guilty as it was obvious from his maid training the room needed tiding up. He got up and put the baby in her crib. He discovered the vacuum in a closet and did all the lower floor rooms. He found a rag and dusted, figuring any job worth doing was worth doing well. He emptied the trash and arranged the throw pillows on the couch. Standing back, he was satisfied with what he had accomplished. The windows needed to be washed but not by him, at least not tonight.

He checked on the baby and went to the kitchen to make the meal. Not wanting to soil his suit he found a starched white apron and put it on. Cooking the meal and cleaning the house, wasn’t something he wanted to do. He thought Ellen might be taking advantage of his predicament. But what options did he have? Go back to the motel…Not likely. So in for a penny in for a pound, he was resigned to do the best he could. Be it as a part-time accountant, babysitter, maid, or cook; just so he remained a full-time husband.

He wrestled with the issue; what wine goes with an egg omelet. He was no sommelier, so he just did ‘enie’, ‘minie’, ‘moe’ to select a wine from her wine storage cabinet. Checking his girly watch, he managed to time things perfectly. He opened the wine as he heard Ellen’s car pull into the driveway. He took one of the full wine glasses and planned to great Ellen at the door with it. As he waited for her entrance, he noticed his shoes by the door, which made the room look untidy, thus nullifying all his housework. He slipped them on and waited. She came flying in the room and almost ran over her husband, who just avoided spilling the drink. Ellen took a quick look around and immediately saw the condition of the room. Then she turned her attention to her husband. The sight of him with his makeup, dressed in his pretty suit, and heels and wearing an apron with a cocktail waiting warmed her. It all combined to flood her with a feeling of love for him. The thought he was doing this all for her, spoke volumes of his commitment to her and the baby, maybe even an acceptance of living as a woman, even if his makeup needed a touchup. She had planned to have a word with him about his earlier familiarities with his boss. Because he was trying so hard to please her, she decided that could wait.

She went to the nursery and checked on her daughter, lost her dress and slipped on her silk bathrobe then nestled into her rocking chair and fed Ariel. After that, she changed the baby before putting Ariel down for the night. She turned on the baby monitor and closed the door. Heather joined her and helped dispose of the smelly diaper. Then the maid led Ellen to the dining room table and held a chair for her to sit. He refilled her glass and served the simple repast. As they ate any resentment between them evaporated like the morning mist. The appreciation and gratitude in her eyes were all the motivation he needed.

After dinner without being asked, he ran her a bath. While she was soaking, he cleaned up the dishes. Swallowing his pride, he found her flannel nightdress and slipped it on and then found the sexist housecoats in Ellen’s collection to give her. He then hurried to the laundry and threw a bath towel in the drier to warm it up. Hearing the tub drain he rushed in to greet his wife, he used the warmed towel to dry his wife off. Then he handed her the nighty to put on. Ten minutes later, Ellen came out of the bathroom carrying a hairbrush. George realized her hair was much longer than he remembered. She looked at George and for the first time noticed what he was wearing. She asked her new girlfriend, "Honey, could you see if you can get these damn tangles out?" as she handed him the brush.

They wound up with her sitting on the bed facing away from him as he sat behind her cross-legged. As he worked, he received a tutorial on how to de-tangle hair. Hers was naturally wavy, and he loved running the brush through it. When it was nearly dry and tied back, she asked him if he wanted her to return the favor.

When he nodded, she smiled and soon he was enjoying the soft brushing. He didn't know having one’s hair brushed could be so erotic. He was embarrassed by his reaction, but the nightgown covered it. He hoped. Ellen braided his hair and secured it with a band. "That'll keep it from tangling tonight." She said as they both stood to pull back the covers. They ended up facing each other and without forethought melted into each other's arms and fell down on the bed and slept in each other’s arms.

@ @ @ @

They got up at first light. After Ellen fed the baby, she joined her husband in the kitchen. They ate a breakfast of black coffee, toast and cereal before Ellen drove them to work after a stop at the babysitter. The day was a groundhog repeat of the previous. Except this time, Heather had her taxi stop on the way home at a book store where she bought a thick cookbook. After all, most of the world’s great chefs were men, cooking for his family was not emasculating. He was determined to make himself a good cook for his family. Going to work, hiding his head in the books, lunch with Ellen, then heading home with the baby became their normal routine until the weekend arrived.

On Saturday, Ellen announced they were going to out to eat. Kind of a celebratory dinner party consisting of Nancy, her fiancée Derrick, his sister Beth, who invited her boyfriend Jim, the FBI agent who spent so much time at her house during his sojourn in Mexico and the happy parents of Ariel. Ellen told George how excited she was that he was finally going to meet Derrick.

She tried to talk Heather into wearing a dress as the restaurant was a swank place on Harbor Island in San Diego Bay. He wasn’t hearing any of it. He huffed, "It was pants or he wouldn’t go!"

Ellen gave in without a fight, partly to avoid a potentially embarrassing moment. Despite all of Ellen’s tutoring, Heather had never fully mastered the art of keeping his knees together. In a dress, he would inevitably be flashing the room. She deviously decided to go all out and find the most feminine pantsuit outfit available within a 50-mile radius. She had seen the perfect one in a local boutique. She said she was going shopping and quickly drove to the boutique and bought one in Heather's size. She stealthily brought it in to the house and hid it in the back of her wardrobe.

An hour before they were to leave, she surprised him with the stunning three-piece pantsuit that included a beautifully sequined shell, flowing chiffon jacket with sweeping wide pantlegs. Upon seeing what Ellen had brought home for him, Heather threw a small tantrum and objected saying it was too girly. Ellen was persistent and insisted he at least try it on. Trying it on he noticed it nipped in his waist and, more embarrassingly, it emphasized his modest breasts. Ellen told him it was that or a dress, she held up his other option it was a silk chiffon Barbie doll pink mini dress held up by spaghetti straps. Heather was caught in a conundrum; with the speed of an IBM computer he selected the fancy pantsuit as it was obviously the lesser of two evils.

Ellen took her time doing makeup for them both, using a very dramatic style. She wore her little black dress. After they got their purses, she drove them to dinner. They made a stunning pair as they walked into Tom Ham’s Lighthouse restaurant. They were fashionably late and the last couple to arrive. Ellen, seeing the crowd, rushed to the table. Derrick jumped to his feet and pulled out a chair right next to him for Ellen. He pushed her chair in and left one hand resting on her shoulder. Ellen thanked him and turned to Heather who was standing behind her.

"Derrick, I would like you to meet Heather, I hope you two can become good friends."

Derrick nodded to Heather, "I am sure we will. After all, we both love the same woman."

Ellen looked over her shoulder and gave Derrick a beguiling smile then kissed his hand.

She then said, "Heather, why don’t you sit between your sister and Jim over there," as she pointed to the other end of the table. Heather was so far away from his wife, the only way he could communicate with her was by texting.

They had a lovely meal accompanied by a lot of lively conversation, helped along by the unending flow of cocktails. After the meal, a band set up and the dancing started. Being an uneven pairing of men and women, Heather moved to a seat next to his wife. Ellen sat out the first dance, the second dance started it was a slow number, everyone paired up with their dates. Ellen waited a polite few minutes and stood up and cut in on Nancy and her fiancée. She danced in the arms of Derrick, who she shamelessly clung all over. Nancy didn’t seem to be upset, she came back to her seat and shrugging her shoulders she turned to Heather, "What are you going to do?" She flopped into her seat and ordered another highball.

The night dragged on as far as Heather was concerned. He declined an offer to dance from Jim, although Ellen almost never sat the entire evening. Finally, George had enough, Ellen was again dancing a slow number with Derrick, he mustered his nerve and walked up and taped Ellen on the shoulder and said, "May I cut in?"

Ellen was astonished at her husband’s audacity. Derrick released her and George went to grab Ellen, causing her to laugh and say, "Dear, this is not the type of establishment that two-woman dancing together is appropriated. If you want to dance, I am sure Derrick will be glad to join you. You’ll do that for me won’t you Derrick? I want my two favorite fellows to get to know each other."

Derrick disdainfully said, "I would love to dance with Miss Heather as long as she understands I will be leading."

As Ellen walked away, she said, "Now Derrick you play nice."

Derrick held Heather tight and led her flying around the dance floor until George was dizzy and out of breath. Derrick pulled him in tight and put his mouth against Heathers ear. He bit out in a murderous voice, "Listen to me Missy. You are dead if anything happens to Ellen or the baby."

Derrick was not the kind of man to make idle threats, George had no doubt. At that moment George knew with absolute certainty what he had only suspected before. Derrick was in love with his wife.

George’s mouth went dry but he managed to get out. "Ellen and I are happily married. What’s your game?"

Derrick smugly answered, "Someday Ellen will tire of you and will need a real man. That is when I will be there for her. I will take her and the baby and make them my own."

George knew he must do something. But what could he do against this mountain of muscle? George turned his fury inward. He ground his teeth to keep from screaming at the lothario.

He vaguely recalled that the heroes in his favorite adventure novels always tightened their jaws when faced with a challenge, he now clenched his own. Facing his adversary with resolve, he grunted out. "Listen buddy, you leave my wife alone."

Derrick howled at that. "Missy, from everything I hear you are less her husband and more her wife."

Aside from his jail break, George knew nothing about bravery except what he read in books and saw in movies. The only thing he could think of was the empty threat, "Just leave my wife and baby alone!"

"Or what are you going to do? Hit me with your purse."

"Just leave them alone."

Derrick smiled and replied, "That is Ellen’s decision not yours. Now go powder you nose."

As if Ellen had been eavesdropping, she saved the situation as she walked up to the two of them. "Shame on you Heather, monopolizing Derrick. He still owes me a dance."

George stormed off the dance floor. He had never felt so discouraged, not only did he feel he was about to lose Ellen’s love, but Derrick was going to end up with her. He had to think of some way to prevent that.

He found a quiet corner and stood alone to think and calm down. When young, he remembered his mother told him something that seemed to be appropriate for his hopeless situation. ‘When the night is the gloomiest, don’t curse the darkness, rather be positive and light a candle.’ He couldn’t fight the braggard physically so he decided he would win Ellen’s heart on the field of love.

He wouldn’t take anything for granted, he would woo her all over again. Ellen was obviously taken by Derrick and all his muscles. If he tried to disparage him, it would only backfire and Ellen would think less of George. So, he would kill Derrick with kindness. He would act like he was Derrick's best friend and only talk Derrick up to his wife.

He went to the bar and ordered two rum and cokes. Holding both drinks, he was now a two-fisted drinker. That made him feel virile. He took two swallows of liquid courage one out of each glass. With a drink in each hand, he headed back to their table.

He found Ellen engaged in a lively conversation with their table mates. He put down his glasses and walked up to Ellen and said, "Dear I need to use the powder room will you join me?"

Ellen laughed and said over the clamor of everyone talking, "Sweetie Pie, you’re a big girl now. I am sure you can go potty by yourself. I am having too much fun to leave at the moment. Run along like a good girl."

As the party died down and everyone started to leave. Heather had to half carry, half lead Ellen to the car. Heather went through her purse and was shocked to see birth control pills, before finding the car keys. She was inebriated and in no condition to drive. Heather drove the car home, even though he didn’t have a valid license. During the drive home, Ellen passed out cold in the passenger seat. Once home Heather paid the babysitter and managed to get Ellen undressed and into bed. He decided to sleep on the couch as he didn’t trust himself to sleep next to his wife. Sunday, Ellen spent in bed with the mother of all hangovers. Heather spent the day taking care of the baby and his wife in that order. He nursed Ellen all day with plenty of aspirin and liquids.

After a dinner of soup and tea, George sat down across from Ellen. She looked up and, in all innocence, asked, "What did you think of Derrick, isn’t he the greatest?"

"Actually, he made a big impression on me. Ellen, you do know he loves you."

Ellen seemed surprised by that comment. "Of course, he does. He’s the big brother I never had."

"No dear, he is in love with you."

Ellen snickered, "Don’t be silly he is engaged to my best friend."

George decide not to mention his suspicion that the big brother act was only so he could stay close to Ellen. He also decided to wait until later to ask about the birth control pills. He didn’t want her to think he had been going through her purse.

"Alright dear, you know him better than I do. Now let’s get you into a hot tub then into bed. We have to be at work tomorrow."

Monday, it was back to the old grind. As if by magic, a different pantsuit materialized in his closet. Heather’s wardrobe had taken over the walk-in closet in the guest bedroom.

They fell into a comfortable pattern for Heather, work, lunch with friends, housework, babysitting and cooking. With Ellen still recuperating from the trauma of Ariel’s birth, their sex life consisted only of hugs, sisterly kisses, and lots of cuddling.

@ @ @ @

At work, Heather and Nancy did became friends. Nancy knew he was no longer fully male, and might have a hard time adapting to his new life. She took Heather under her wing. She treated Heather just like one of the girls, even to the point of accompanying her into the bathroom. Heather found there is very little in life more intimate than sitting on the toilet and discussing woman’s fashions with a woman in the next stall.

When Heather was experiencing an emotional low, he found Nancy who became a true confidant always had an ear to listen and often provided him with advice. A real bond developed between them. During slack time at work, they would talk. Heather found he could unburden himself without Nancy being judgmental. Their relationship reached the point Nancy would sometimes borrow Heather's lipstick when he was wearing one that caught her fancy. In return, Nancy lent Heather an extra pair of panty hose when he had a run in his. Heather looked on Nancy as a true girlfriend in the platonic sense. Ellen and Nancy would often have private closed-door meetings in Ellen’s office. Heather often wondered if he was the subject of some of those meetings. He had enough problems that he didn’t need to add to them with conspiracy concerns. He was forced to just let them go.

@ @ @ @

One night at the start of his third week of being Ellen’s accountant, Heather was cleaning up from dinner. He heard the doorbell. Ellen yelled, "I’ll get it."

A few minutes later Ellen stuck her head in the kitchen. "Honey, Mr. Thompson is here he needs to talk to us. You can finish up in here later, come on into the den."

Heather was a little late getting home from the babysitter so after putting the baby in her crib, he had gone directly to the kitchen to start dinner. Still in his work pantsuit, heels and wearing his work makeup. His outfit was covered by a frilly hostess apron. He dried his hands on his apron. Then without thinking about how he was dressed, he hurried to see what the federal prosecutor wanted. He knew Leon and his lackey had been sentenced to Jail. As far as he knew, Leon was out of the way and serving his 15 years in a federal facility in Nevada. He wondered what Fred could want with him?

He pulled up short at the doorway to the den when realized how he was dressed. He saw Fred sitting near his wife in the armchair with his briefcase open between his legs. Ellen sat nervously on the couch wringing her hands.

Fred wasn’t sure what Mr. Trousdale would look like. If George had reverted back to his feminine looking role, he would be wasting his time. Fred had feared the worst. He looked up when he sensed someone was in the room, and intently scrutinized the newcomer. Heather was embarrassed at what he was wearing, he stepped back half of a step to hide behind the doorjamb. He blushed beetroot red that showed through his light makeup.

To Fred’s amazement, standing in the doorway was the personification of a stereotypical 50’s housewife. A smile crossed Fred’s lips as he saw he was in the presence of Heather and not George. He took a chance and said, "Heather have a seat I have something important to discuss with you both."

Heather remained standing and leaned up against the doorframe.

Fred got right to the point, "The man you helped put in jail, Mr. Brown, was in business with the most vicious of the Mexican cartels. As part of his plea agreement, he provided us with enough evidence to generate several indictments against some of the cartel’s main players. As you can imagine, they haven’t taken the news well."

George felt a ‘but’ coming and grabbed the door frame to steady himself.

Ellen asked, "What has that got to do with us."

"That’s exactly why I am here. We have solid intelligence that the cartel has put out a contract hit on both you and Leon.

CHAPTER 27 - Organized crime in America takes in over forty billion dollars a year. One of the reasons is it spends very little on office supplies.

There was a collective gasp from George and Ellen. George was the first to speak, "I can’t imagine that they would be interested in a small fish like me."

Fred nodded in agreement. "Don’t underestimate their determination and thirst for vengeance. They want to make examples of you both.

"They have already managed to get to Mr. Brown, in a federal prison. He was knifed in the chow hall. He is alive and presently in the prison hospital wing. He will live but, for his own safety, he will serve the remainder of his sentence in solitary confinement. I suspect you are next on their hit list and that is why I am here."

George turned pale. "Oh my god, I’m a dead man! I spent a year on the run from the law. Now I have to run from the Mexican Mafia. I just can’t catch a break." He felt faint as the blood rushed from his head.

Fred stood and rushed to his side. With his arm around George's shoulders, he helped his pale, hermaphrodite client to the couch where he sat next to his wife. Ellen lovingly cradled her distraught husband in her arms.

Fred said, "Heather you have one thing going for you. Part of Leon’s plea deal was he wouldn’t let anyone know George was living as a woman. Leon’s lawyer recently died in a car accident so he won’t be talking. The Mexicans are looking for a man, not a woman. It is my recommendation that the more you look like a woman, the safer you will be."

Fred, stood in front of the weepy eyed couple and announced he had a plan. He would put them both in the witness protection program. He explained they would be moved to an undisclosed location and given new identities.

Ellen broke out in uncontrolled sobs. She had worked so hard to build her business that the thought of losing it was more than she could stand.

After her brief cry, she laid into Fred. "Now listen up Mr. government man. I have worked my ass off to build my company to the success it is today. There is no way I can just walk away from it. It represents the financial future for me and my family. If you relocate us that doesn’t help George’s predicament. Because of his physical changes, George cannot realistically go back to living as a man. For his safety, he would still have to live as a woman. From what you have said, the cartel is after George. That doesn’t mean I am in danger."

Fred was prepared for these objections. He had an alternative plan ready to go - Plan B if you will. He announced he had a possible alternative plan. Those on the couch looked at Fred with a glint of hope written across their faces.

He laid out his idea. "From what we know, the only information the cartel has on George is his name which they got from the court records. From that it is a simple matter to get your address. This is a bit unorthodox but could you two embrace the concept of George remaining a ghost, a non-entity so he simply never comes home. I won’t try and bamboozle you. This will not be easy and it will require sacrifice and dedication. Here is an option that I was reluctant to present. Assuming you two want to stay together. The logical solution would have Heather, a woman, live in the States on a permanent basis and the husband George simply never be heard from again.

"Whether Heather lives in your household Ellen is strictly up to you. I can set her up in a small studio apartment."

George spoke first, "God knows I won’t live away from my wife and baby, that’s a non-starter. Besides I’m a man. I don’t want to live out my life as a woman."

Fred jumped in with, "I thought you tried the sissy thing. How did it work out?"

Fred smirked and made an apocalyptic announcement in George's opinion. "It seems to me your choices are as follows. Life as a woman. At least you will be alive. Or spend your life being ridiculed as a person trapped half-way between male and female identities. Which could prove deadly and might raise questions about who the mysterious feminized man hanging around Ellen is."

Ellen took George’s hand and addressed him as sincerely as she could, "Whatever we decide honey, we will stay together forever. I wouldn’t mind if the outside world viewed you as Heather. As long as she was my husband in this house and the bedroom of course. Despite what the world thinks we will know the truth and our family can stay together. That is the only decision I will except."

Ellen tried to read his body language to see his reaction. She knew he still harbored dreams of returning to his manly form. This decision had to be his. As much as she liked to be in charge, she knew that she must let him decide this one. It would require some serious changes in their life styles and had the possibility of putting a strain on their relationship and their marriage. She could live with Heather as her spouse and be happy. But could he? It had the advantage of her keeping her business. The big question was could he give up his manhood permanently for her sake? If the situation was reversed, she wasn’t sure she could make that sacrifice. His decision will say a lot about his character and his love for her.

Without deciding George squeaked out, "How would this all work?"

Fred jumped to his feet, "Simple, it will take a week or so. I will produce all the documents you will need to live as Heather. A permanent resident card, a birth certificate, driver’s license, and a CPA license, and even a forged work history. The only question I have is what name to put on the documents. For security reasons, we can’t use Trousdale. I’m sure you understand."

George said, "Wait a minute, I haven’t said I would do it yet!"

Even though Ellen had intended to avoid taking part in the process, she played the ultimate female strategy: she started to cry.

A cowed George shrugged and surrendered. What man could really withstand a woman's tears? He managed to get out, "If Ellen thinks it is the best thing to do. It’s alright with me."

Not waiting for George to formally agree, Ellen plowed forward. She already had an idea about a last name and wanted to toss it out there for consideration. "My first thought would have Heather take my maiden name Newman. It is so apropos don’t you think?"

"I strongly recommend against that!" said Fred, jumping to his feet. "It would tie Heather to you and could be traceable."

Ellen thought for a minute then had an ‘a ha’ moment and spoke up again, "In that case, how about Love? Heather Love. I can’t think of anything better."

As there was no more discussion, the decision had been made. Fred left and promised to be back as soon as he could.

That night at bed time, Ellen toured the entire house and ensured everything was locked up for the night. She entered the bedroom and saw her husband hiding behind the drapes starring out the window and she asked, "Miss Love, what are you doing?"

"I’m checking to see if anyone’s watching the house."

He moved the crib and the baby’s nightlight back into their bedroom. He got into bed and pulled the covers over his head.

Neither of them slept much that night, the slightest noise woke them up.

On the way to work the next morning, a sleep deprived Ellen almost had an accident as she was preoccupied with checking her mirrors to see if they were being followed.

Pulling into her reserved parking spot, Ellen scanned the parking lot for strangers. She helped Heather out of the car and followed her husband into work. She noticed that his womanly illusion wasn’t perfect, but if you weren’t trying to spot the differences it was quite good. Now that her safety depended on it, she was determined to eradicate all those telltale masculine traits that might give him away.

That afternoon, Heather skipped the normal lunch routine. He instead took a cab back to his doctor's office. While talking to the doctor, he asked a medical question that had been bothering him for a very long time. "Doctor. can a brown eyed woman and a brown eyed man can make a blue-eyed baby?" The doctor smile and answered. "It is possible but not probable. You see, it would require both of the parents having a 'recessive' blue-eyed trait. If that were the case. There is a 1 in 4 chance that the child could be blue eyed." A relieved George left an hour later with a prescription for Xanax safely tucked in his purse right next to the pepper spray he had picked up.

Now that he had an additional incentive to appear as a woman, he concentrated on his every movement. Over time, his feminine comportment had improved. However, he would slip up every now and then. He kept it together for a couple days then, on Friday morning, he was having a really bad day. He tripped on a rug rushing to go pee and broke a heel and put a run in his hose. He couldn’t spend the day on one foot so he had to take time off to go buy another pair of shoes. He had learned to keep replacement stockings in his desk. Upon his return from his hurried shopping spree he realized he had made a mistake. His new shoes were killing him. If he had to guess they were causing blisters on his feet. He was in his office and could feel the tell-tale tightening in his chest, fear roiling in his stomach. He reached for his purse, grabbed the prescription bottle, tapped out a single white pill - downing it with a gulp of cold coffee. He stood, straightened his blouse, and buttoned up the accompanying jacket. As the pill started to take effect, he caught his reflection in the glass of his office door and a chill ran down his back. He thought ‘he could be looking at a secretary in any fashionable office’. A sense of calm ran through him. As an undercover man whose life depended on looking like a convincing woman on a day to day basis, he wasn’t happy with his appearance. It may have been the pills talking effect but for once he felt a momentary sense of pride in his current attractiveness. The moment passed and he got back to his books.

@ @ @ @

It took a bit longer than promised but, eventually, Fred came through for them and produced all the documents Heather required. As a celebration, Ellen took Heather out and bought her a new car so she could drive herself to work. It was the ultimate family car: a crimson-colored hybrid minivan with leather-trimmed seats, hands-free sliding door and liftgate. They had the dealer professionally install the baby car seat. Along with the car keys, Ellen handed him a gold credit card with a $10,000 limit under the name of Heather love.

From that day on, he drove himself to work dressed as feminine as possible, he wanted to make Ellen proud of him no matter what it did to his manly pride. Ellen had his work file changed to his new name and under his new social security number. She back dated everything and shredded his old documents. At home, she continued to select his daily ensemble. Under Ellen’s tutelage, he learned to do his own makeup; nothing too bold, but impressively feminine. He tried his best. He only wanted to make his wife happy. And of course, to keep the mob in the dark about Heather’s true identity.

He was making progress at doing his own makeup, though rather slowly. It became routine for him to do his own cosmetics and hair. Only on special occasions would Ellen step in and work her magic. His lingerie became more and more womanly every day. He never looked like a beauty queen but he was completely and convincingly tricked out as a stylish woman whenever he left the house, albeit a mousy one. He wasn’t crazy about going overboard with the feminine intricacies, he did them only in the hope his disguise was impenetrable.

Life was good. Things changed one Saturday morning. Ellen was in the den playing with the baby while he was cleaning the house wearing a pair of white shorts and a loose-fitting V-necked tee shirt because he considered them to be gender-neutral. What he missed was you could see the straps of his bra through the semi-sheer material of his shirt as well as the attractive lace pattern on the cups containing his modest breasts.

Heather heard a car pull up in their driveway. They were not expecting company so he put down his dusting cloth and headed to the front door to see who was there.

Just as he reached the arched entryway leading to the front door, the door came flying open and splintered wood from the doorjamb went flying everywhere. Two gorillas stood in the door blotting out the sun. They were dressed alike, in gray hoodies, blue jeans and wearing balaclavas pulled over their faces. The guy who was obviously the leader walked in about four steps and surveyed the room. Each intruder carried a menacingly large hand gun. Ellen was in the den, with Ariel held tightly to her chest.

Ellen with a trembling voice said, "What do you want? We don’t keep cash in the house. You can have my jewelry, just don’t hurt my daughter."

"Relax Mrs. Trousdale. No one needs to get hurt as long as you cooperate. We are here to find your husband George. The boss wants to have a conversation with him."

CHAPTER 28 - Being robbed hurts – not physically, but what it does to your sense of security.

"George isn’t here and hasn’t been for over a year," Ellen replied shakily.

The bruiser in charge looked down at her, obviously not believing her. "In that case, I’m sure you won’t mind if we have a look around."

Heather moved to stand protectively next to Ellen, trying to put his loved ones behind him.

Pointing at Heather the head goon asked, "Who is that homely broad, we've been watching this house for months and haven't seen her until recently."

Ellen spoke over Heather's shoulder, "I needed help with the baby, so I hired an au pair."

He rolled his eyes at Ellen. "Lady, don’t play word games with me. Speak in plain English."

Ellen looked back at the thug, avoiding the sneer that still came through in her voice.

"An au pair is a domestic servant from a foreign country working for, and living as part of a host family. In other words, she’s my housekeeper and babysitter. You imbecile."

He didn’t take kindly to the name calling and moved toward Ellen intending to teach the smart mouthed bitch a lesson.

Heather moved to stand defiantly between the goon, his wife and the baby.

The guy laughed at the piece of fluff that was trying to stop him. He gave Heather a strong backhand upside of her head that knocked Heather to the floor seeing stars. His anger spent; he returned his attention to Ellen.

"Well bitch. Why didn’t you just say so?" His expression conveyed how superior he felt toward his prisoners.

He turned to his partner and directed, "Check the house for any sign of our guy, like male clothes, and the toilets seats left up. If he’s been here, we will find out soon enough."

Once his head cleared Heather played dead, but kept his senses alert. Luckily, he had just finished cleaning the toilets so he knew that they wouldn’t find the telltale sign of an up-toilet seat. This incident traumatized him so deeply, he made a vow to always tinkle siting down in the future.

The leader was standing with his shoes, mere inches from Heather's face. Heather chanced opening his eyes a crack and found himself looking up the guy's pant leg. He was able to make out a dragon-like tattoo on his lower leg, just above the stocking.

For the next 20 minutes or so, they ransacked the house. Heather and Ellen knew that they would find no trace of George. They had purged everything masculine after Fred's visit in case someone searched the house. They had not expected a home invasion however.

Neither of their captors spoke to them again. They left quickly when the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. Heather was happy when they were gone, until he realized that it would require quite some time to pick up the mess they left behind. Ellen didn’t want to call the police, foolishly believing since they didn’t find anything, they would leave her alone.

Fortunately, a neighbor had witnessed the break-in and called the police. Officers arrived within minutes of their intruders' departure. Both Heather and Ellen were interviewed. They were particularly interested in what Heather had to say when he told them about the tattoo she had seen. As it turned out that tattoo was the trade mark of a local Hispanic gang. Based on the physical descriptions Heather and Ellen provided, the police had a good idea who the intruders were. An All-Points-Bulletin was issued immediately.

Ellen and Heather took the following week off to recover from their ordeal and to let Heather’s black eye to heal. At the end of the week the police arrested the two suspects. They found one of the thugs’ fingerprints in the house and the others DNA where he had pissed in one of toilets and had an overspray. Confronted with the evidence, they both pleaded guilty.

The police warned Ellen and Heather, that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be more visitors.

A terrified Ellen called Derrick and explained the situation. She asked if he could stay in her home for a few weeks. Derrick jumped at her invitation.

Ellen could read her husband like an open book. His body language told Ellen that Heather was not pleased by the idea that Derrick was coming to stay in their home. Ellen took Heather aside and got into his grill.

"Honey, Derrick is a very good friend and is doing us a favor being here," she said sternly. "He is my house guest; besides I want him to get to spend time with ‘our’ child."

Ellen paused, to gather her thoughts then went on, "He is her godfather, being Italian he takes that responsibility very seriously. I would appreciate it if you give him the royal treatment while he is here. If he says jump your only response should be how high. I hope I have made myself clear in what my expectations are?"

"Of course, Ellen, I wouldn’t have it any other way. You can rely on me." Fretted George.

The next day Derrick showed up while Ellen was out. Heather invited him in and told him to make himself at home. Derrick dropped his bags inside the front door. Heather carried his bags to the quest room while Derrick watched TV. Heather had moved his day to day clothes out of the room, as he would be sleeping on the couch for the duration of his stay. To George's disgust Derrick being in the quest bedroom, meant he had access to all of Heathers work outfits.

With Derrick living there, Ellen and Heather returned to work. It was more convenient to leave Ariel with Derrick home rather than taking her to the child care. Heather was concerned about leaving Aerial alone with the big tough Seal. Much to Heather's delight, he found that Derrick had things well in hand every day when he got home from his half day as a bookkeeper. Most days they were on the floor playing or he had Ariel in her stroller either going or coming from a walk.

For the next month, Heather found that he had to wait on Derrick hand and foot as well as his cooking and cleaning for his family.

Once Heather was home to take over responsibility for the baby, Derrick drank beer like a skid row bum. Heather was still new to the culinary world and was still experimenting. Derrick being the jerk he was, felt no compunction in criticizing the meals served. Ellen put a quick stop to that. Every time Derrick complained about what Heather had prepared, she sent him out to bring home takeout.

One night, Derrick went looking for another beer and couldn’t find any. He raised his voice at Heather because there was no beer in the house. Ellen was an amused observer and sat back to see how this played out.

George's first reaction was to tell this SOB where to go. He saw Ellen at the end of the dinner table picking at her ice cream so he bit his tongue and, in a passive almost submissive voice, apologized profusely and promised to never let it happen again. Ellen watched the interchange and smiled at her husband and silently mouthed, "I'm sorry," and had a 'please forgive me' expression on her face.

After that, Heather made repeated runs to the liquor store to restock the beer supply. Heather fed Derrick, picked up after him, made his bed, and did his laundry. Heather managed to do it all with a smile on his face. In the evenings, as Heather was busy cleaning and cooking, Ellen and Derrick would often go off to secluded corners and spent time in private conversations. Heather smiled and tried not to disturb them as he went about his housekeeping duties. His services went largely unappreciated, as far as he could tell.

Derrick finally moved out when Ellen had a new security system put in the house. Which was not a minute to soon in George's opinion. George swore that the words ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ were not part of Derrick's lexicon. As his car pulled away, Heather breathed a sigh of relief, that lasted only as long as it took Derrick’s car to clear the driveway. Ellen called Heather into her bedroom. He was afraid that he had done something wrong.

He couldn’t have been more wrong as he walked in to her bedroom Ellen stood there in a scarlet baby doll nighty. She thanked Heather profusely, saying she knew Derrick could be a bit of a Neanderthal at times and she appreciated the way Heather handled each situation with grace.

"How about you sleep here tonight?" She helped Heather get totally undressed and raised the covers and said, "Come to bed."

Heather, a bit bewildered, asked if he might borrow one of her nightgowns.

Ellen smiled in an enticing way and said, "Whatever for? I am asking George to spend the night, not Heather. Do you think you are up to it dear?"

His voice sounded as tense as a guitar string that was strung too tight, as he answered, "I will make every effort to get there."

"That’s all I can ask. Come on get in."

They renewed their wedding vows that night, if not by words then by deeds. As far as George was concerned, it was a night to remember and made up for every indignity, he endured during Derricks visit.

@ @ @ @

It took a while for the police report on the home invasion to find its way to Fred’s desk. He immediately called Ellen and set up a private meeting with her. Later the next day, secluded in Ellen’s conference room, Fred told her in his professional opinion she needed to do something to take the crosshairs off her. He laid out his idea.

Fred was still positive Ellen was under scrutiny by cartel agents. He, well actually they, decided Ellen need to make a grand gesture to get them off her trail.

After listening to his plan Ellen made an emotionally informed decision, one that was best for her and Ariel. Ellen wasn’t happy with the solution; she was afraid it would devastate her husband. The decision came down to doing what was best for her and her child, even if it hurt George.

This is not a Caution, but more of a Warning.

This chapter exhibits even more of Ellen's selfish behavior at her husband's expense. Heather deals with her antics as best he can, but things will get better for Heather.

We are sure that Ellen's attitudes and behavior are exaggerated as we have NEVER met anyone who acted like Ellen before.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 29 - A flight to freedom, lands in the valley of disappointment.

Based on Fred’s plan, it was probably a good time to have Heather move out of their conjugal bed and into the guest room. She was about to give Heather the bad news when George walked in announcing that he had finished the taxes. All he needed was Ellen’s signature to submit the corporate taxes on time. He had to co-sign as the corporation’s accountant.

Things changed once the taxes were submitted. Ellen summoned Heather to her office. As he stood before her desk, Ellen steadied herself for the hardest thing she had done as a boss, demote her own husband. She looked at Heather and tried not to think of her as George.

She announced, "My company no longer needs an accountant. Effective immediately Heather, you are being demoted to bookkeeper. It's nothing personal, it is strictly a business decision, I hope you understand?"

Heather's face fell. Ellen could tell her husband was devastated as his knees started to buckle. He started to say something, but Ellen hushed him. Before he could make a scene, Ellen dismissed him and told him to close the door on the way out.

He headed straight for the bathroom, not wanting to have a breakdown in the hall. He entered a stall, sat and had himself a good cry. When he had composed himself, he fixed his face in the mirror and headed to his office, where he found a man changing the title on his office door.

He filed away all his papers and organized his office space. By the time he was done it was getting on to quitting time. Heather knocked on Ellen’s door and waited to be invited in. "Hey there Ms. Ellen," He said breezily, his high feminine voice now flowing easily. "I'm just here to ask for a lift home."

Ellen looked at him severely, "I’ve told you not to call me Ellen. Ms. Newman is how you should address me! We don't want the others to know that I am living with the help. Go wait for me at the bus stop on the corner. I will pick you up there when I’m finish here."

Heather gathered his purse and made his way across the parking lot and sat on the bench and felt lost. Eventually Ellen pulled up at the bus stop and Heather hopped in the front seat. He pouted all the way home. Ellen failed to notice because she had something to say and knew he wasn’t going to like it. She decided to do it in the car, in case he made a scene.

About half of the way home she informed him of the new sleeping arrangements. She hoped that pushing him out of her bed at the moment, would not send him over the edge. Heather took the news stoically, at least on the outside. Internally, his emotions were in a tornado. When he asked for an explanation she explain, "The reason will be clear later, just be patient."

Ellen pulled into the garage and leapt out of the car leaving Heather to make his own way in. She rushed into the house. She was going to have the dreaded talk with George. She had put this off as long as she could, but it just had to be done. She first checked on the baby then poured two large brandies from a cut-glass decanter and sat on the settee waiting on her hubby. She took several large sips of her drink trying to work up her courage for what was ahead. She could hear Heather fidgeting in the kitchen. Ellen braced herself for what was ahead. She called out for Heather who was preparing their dinner. Ellen called for Heather to forget dinner and join her in the den.

Heather walked in impatient that Ellen was disturbing her dinner routine. "What is it El?"

Ellen jumped up and fidgeted nervously she handed him the other glass and said "Here take this you’re going to need it. Have a seat honey. There is something serious we need to talk about."

After Heather was seated, Ellen paced nervously before diving into what she needed to say.

"I had a private meeting with Fred, he is positive I am still under scrutiny by cartel agents. He, well actually, we decided I need to make a grand gesture to get them off my trail."

George didn’t like where this was heading, so he inquired. "And what is that?"

Ellen took a deep breath and continued, "As far as the world knows, George went to Mexico and no one has seen or heard from him since. That makes me an abandoned wife. I need to act like a woman rejected by her husband. I need to formalize the fact George is no longer in my life. There is only one surefire way to do that."

George was scared and was putting a real challenge on his antiperspirant.

Ellen took a large sip of her drink and suggested her husband do the same.

"Brace yourself honey. What I am about to say is going to hurt. Just remember I love you. For my and Ariel’s protection I need to show the world I am the woman spurned and alone. The plan requires that I will publicly divorce you and also petition the court to take your name off Ariel’s birth certificate. That will demonstrate to everyone I have cut all ties with George."

George’s heart skipped a beat. He gasped for breath. "Oh, Ellen how can you do that to me? Can’t we talk about this?"

Ellen was untouched by his plea, she scolded George, "We can postpone the inevitable, whether I do this today or next month, it is going to happen. No matter what you say, I fully intend to go ahead with the divorce. My lawyers are working on the papers as we speak. Just be aware if you fight this the only thing it will accomplish is to hurt yourself."

"If this plan is going to work, I am telling you we can’t go on living like this. Things must change in our relationship, that is why I asked you to sleep in the guest room. We must show the world you are only my employee and houseguest, nothing more. If word got out, we were sleeping together it would ruin the plan. Even if all we were doing is sleeping."

George felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. All he could do was fix Ellen with a steely gaze.

Ellen wasn’t done, she saved the worst for last. She suggested he pick up his drink and finish it.

"We are two eligible bachelorettes living together in the same house. I for one, am viewed as an attractive unattached successful business woman. You my dear are seen as nothing more than an exotic single woman living in my guest bedroom.

"After the divorce becomes final and maybe a little before, I will have to be seen dating. Making it appear I am looking for replacement for my husband. Will you be able to handle me dating men?"

George thought the ultimate cost to his tacit consent of her infidelities would be the last of his dignity. He wished he had never left that accursed prison. He thought about waiting for one of Ellen’s sexcapades and while she was out, he would kill himself. He had given up his manhood for Ellen, why not go all the way and sacrifice his life.

He was jolted back to the present when Ellen rambled on, "If you are still living here you will have to accept that. Do you think you can emotionally handle me going out with men? If not, you should give some serious thought to moving out. You have months to get use to the idea, it will take that long for the divorce to go through. Please let me know as soon as you can. If you leave, I will have to hire a new housekeeper."

"Ellen, I don’t think your plan is a good idea."

"Dear it’s about time you realize what you want think means diddly in this context. I will do whatever it takes to protect me and my daughter."

George sat there a single tear running down his quivering cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. Finally getting his emotions under control he was able to examine the problem rationally and tentatively said, "I may not like it, but can see the logic behind your argument. Yes, I think I can live with you going out at night. Just as long as you still love me and come home every night."

Ellen chose her words closely and eventually declared, "I am sorry dear but that is something I can’t promise in whole. I will always love you. But in this day and age dating without sex would raise red flags. I do promise I will come home to you afterward.

"I don’t want you waiting up for me, I couldn’t stand seeing your anguish when I walk in after a night spent in another man's bed. Plus, I expect there will be sometimes I won’t be coming home until after sunup, I will only have time to change clothes and leave again. Also, I will never discuss what went on with my men."

George gave it some profound thought, after a long time with a quivering voice he said "Alright just promise me one thing, you won’t date Derrick, that I couldn’t stand."

"That is no problem I will only be dating eligible bachelors. Certainly, no married men. Does that make you feel better?"

@ @ @ @

Ellen did as she promised and filed for divorce. Her lawyers told her it would be about six months before the final decree came through. She played her part well over the next few weeks and months. Ellen acted the part of an abandoned wife. Much to Heather's disgust, with him sleeping in the guest bedroom their relationship at home deteriorated to a platonic one. Ellen treated him as the hired help. When she wanted something, she would tell him to do it, never asked. Heather now knew the true meaning of depression. He truly felt he was nothing more than an employee to Ellen and a nursemaid to their young daughter.

After that talk. George went into a major funk. He went to bed and didn’t get out of it for a week except to pee. Ellen covered for him at work and had all the alcohol removed from the house and checked the medicine cabinets for dangerous drugs.

He finally came out of the bedroom when he got hungry. He had discovered that pity is not a very filling meal. He showered for the first time in days and headed for the kitchen. Nothing looked appetizing until he opened the freezer and found ice cream. He substituted his depression for comfort food. Within days, he became addicted to Cookies N' Cream ice cream. After he had eaten his way through four gallons of the sweet stuff and had made a major dent in a fifth, Ellen became concerned and called his sister. She brought in Beth and arranged an intervention.

Ellen and Beth tried to convince George that the divorce was not because Ellen didn’t love him; it was done to protect their family. That was nice to hear and gave Heather something to think about. However, they never got to the heart of his depression. Beth didn’t mention or didn’t know about Ellen’s planned infidelities.

He realized if he wanted to stay with his daughter, he would have to suck up the other shit. He had no idea how he would feel when Ellen went out on a date. He guessed he would have to wait and see how that played out.

The deciding factor in giving up the ice cream was that Heather put on ten pounds. That in itself wasn’t so bad except that all the fat seemed to settle on his chest and ass. He was self-conscious enough about the way his body had changed but becoming a busty broad was more than his ego could take. So, the deserts were put away and saved for special occasions.

Heather suffered through the following months waiting for that dreaded time when Ellen would get her ticket of freedom from their marriage vows. He retreated into himself. He spent his time at home doing the homemaker thing and doting on his daughter. If Ellen tried to engage him in conversation it was met with either grunts or silence. He went to the office and got lost in his work. He turned down all invitations to lunch until the ladies stopped asking. Other than his weekly appointments with his shrink, he had no interaction with anyone outside of the office.

@ @ @ @

One day about six months later around lunch time, one of the myriads of interns Ellen kept employed stuck her head in Heathers office and announced, "Everyone is wanted in the breakroom."

Heather left everything on his desk and went to see what all the fuss was about. Walking in the room, he saw a table with a cake on it and party balloons taped to the wall. Heather asked innocently enough, "Whose birthday is it?"

"It’s no one’s birthday silly, a messenger delivered the boss' final divorce degree this morning. We are all here to watch her sign it and become a free woman again. Then all of us ladies are going to drag her to a club where she can celebrate properly by picking up some stud and get royally laid."

Everyone in the room but Heather cheered. A few minutes later, Ellen showed up. She made an appearance and marched to the desk and asked for quiet. Ellen’s luxuriant brown hair was gathered above her head by an ornate comb, a few curling wayward strands had escaped and hung down her tan neck.

She made a major production signing the papers with a flourish. To raucous cheers.

All the woman who worked for Ellen piled into cabs and drove to the town’s best nightclub. Surprisingly. the owner greeted Ellen by name and the party was led to a private room with booths along all the walls. Heather was dragged to the largest booth that held everyone if they packed in real close.

The servers were all men. Ellen was spending like a drunken sailor and announced it was an open bar, everything tonight was on her tab. Heather was crammed in with a woman on both sides. Everyone was drinking shots. One young intern proposed a toast to ‘freedom.’ That set off a cheer. Barbra to Heather's right leaned into Heather and slurred, "Now the boss can finally date openly and not keep hiding it."

Heather gasped at the news, "You mean, Mrs. Trousdale has been secretly dating men?"

Kellie who was on her other side poked Heather in the ribs. "Don’t pay attention to anything Barbra says. She is the office gossip, half of everything that comes of her mouth is made up."

Later, Heather spoke to Kellie and asked, "Do you think what she said is true? Could all these late-night meetings with clients be something more?"

Kellie shrugged. "I have no idea. I have worked for Ms. Trousdale, now I guess we should call her Ms. Newman, a lot longer than you. What the boss does in her own time is her business. I mind my own business and recommend you do too."

Heather threw down shot after shot and wondered about what Barb had said. Were all those late-night business meetings just her way of dating men and keeping it from George. The more he drank the more confused he got. He prayed the night would soon be over.

If the divorce degree upset Ellen, she showed no signs of it. In this party setting, she was at home surrounded by her peeps. She laughed and drank the night away. Heather had never felt worse and tried to fade into the background. Watching Ellen’s happiness stung like a big fat salve of salt being rubbed on an open wound.

At one point, Ellen pulled Heather aside and chastised him for being a real downer and not acting happy for her. After all it was all part of the grand theater they were playing. Society would expect her to be happy. Heather as her friend and employee would also be assumed to share in that joy.

He acknowledged her point and promised to try and be happy. The rest of the night he presented a cheery disposition, the open bar helped a lot.

It was awful grieving in secret. He had to literally grin and bear it.

When the night ended neither Ellen nor Heather were in any condition to drive so they called a cab. As the last of the partygoers were leaving, Heather was holding up Ellen when one of the secretary’s Cindy was leaving, Heather drunkenly commented "Some party."

Cindy laughed "Oh, this was nothing. You should have seen last year’s Christmas party, we brought in male strippers. The booze was flowing like water there wasn’t a dry panty in the room."

Heather managed to get Ellen home and into bed. Where she passed out and spent the night in a drunken slumber. Heather with an uneasy stomach laid next to his wife, on the side of the bed closest to the bathroom.

Heather woke gently as morning filled the room with its rosy glow. The back side of his wife’s body lying beside him. His head throbbed, as his lungs ejected an involuntary moan. Ellen’s body shifted, as she mumbled, and turned to face him. Her hair was a matted tumble, lips parched, eyes a roadmap of scrawled red lines. Her morning breath would take the rust off of chrome. She uttered, "Some party, huh?"

Heather called the office and left word that both would be taking a sick day. He took a cold shower and felt alive again. Ellen elected to spend the day in bed.

Heather did the laundry and brought the baby into the den and parked her next to him in front of the television and vegetated while Ellen never got out of bed.

The next morning over breakfast, George had to know so he came right out and asked, "Ellen, please be honest with me. Have your late-night business meetings actually been clandestine dates?"

Ellen still feeling a bit shaky from her drunken nigh took a long sip of black coffee and answered the question, glad to finally get it out in the open. "I am sorry dear, but yes, some of them have been. You were warned it might happen. I tried to hide what I was doing to keep from hurting you. They were nothing serious and certainly not the same guy twice. Even though I had had a number of offers, I have not had sex with anyone, if that makes you feel any better.

George wondered if that denial was as believable as Bill Clinton’s, "I have not had sexual relations with that woman."

Now that her secret was out in the open. Ellen didn’t have to hide her preparations. She tried to not to be too obvious, seeing how distressed her husband was. He tried valiantly not to show it but Ellen could see the hurt in his eyes as she walked out the door and routinely told Heather she had her phone in case of emergencies so not to worry. Then reminded George not to wait up.

On those evenings where Ellen was out on a date, Heather resorted to his bottle of Xanax after putting the baby to bed.

Ellen would never forget the morning after her first scheduled date that was known to George. She had gotten in as the sun was just sneaking over the horizon. She found her family at the kitchen table eating breakfast. She joined them and Heather retrieved her favorite breakfast of eggs benedict from the oven where it was warming. Heather sat and concentrated on feeding the baby. Every attempt Ellen made to start small talk was met with silence from her husband. She looked up from her eggs and really looked at her husband. One tear snuck out his right eye like a grounded teenager heading to a late-night party. She wanted to go to him but had no idea what to say to make him feel better. So, she left well enough alone.

Every morning after one of her dates Heather was chilly toward his wife, that lasted until they went back to work.

After several months of weekend dating, Ellen was tired of seeing Heather spend every Saturday night home with the baby. She arranged for a babysitter and took Heather out clubbing hoping he might loosen up, have a good time, and stop being the gloomy Gus.

To Ellen, this would accomplish two things, it would first reinforce the notion she was actively seeking male companionship and, secondly, it would get her husband out of the house. By accompanying her he would see she was only flirting, not being a total slut.

The issue of Heather refusing to wear a skirt reared its ugly head again. In the end, they compromised and Heather went out wearing a cute pink skinny Chino ankle length pants, that lifted, slimed, and tucked Heathers body and made him look one whole size smaller. Again, over Heather's objection he left the house in a pair of platform shoes with a glitter encrusted upper and almost six-inch heels.

The couple took a taxi to the area’s notorious hookup spot and meat market. Ellen drank and danced the night away. Heather drank sparingly. Being a plane Jane, he didn’t draw a lot of attention. He acted more as Ellen’s wing man. While Ellen danced and flirted, Heather kept the Ellen's current companion’s friend occupied.

During that time Heather had a couple of invitations to dance, which he promptly declined. Ellen had a ball, giving her phone number to a dozen different guys, but turned down twice that number of invitations to go home with the womanizers. Heather was bored out of his mind and nearly deaf from the constant blaring hard rock music. Ellen was feeling no pain when they finally called it a night.

Over the ensuing weeks, Ellen asked Heather to go with her to the club several more times. Which he refused; he would rather stay at home with the baby. Ellen wasn’t going to be deprived of her fun so she went with one of her men and left Heather home.

About a month later Ellen broke her own rule and had her date pick her up at home. Heather had the baby in his arms and unwittingly answered the door to find a really attractive man wearing a thousand-dollar Armani suit. He introduced himself to Heather as Tom and asked Heather her name. Once the pleasantries were exchanged Heather went to notify Ellen her date was here. Ellen explained Heather’s presence as her being the live in governess, and the baby as her daughter. As she left, she gave Heather a chaste peck on the cheek and walked arm in arm with her date, the lawyer to his Porsche sports car. It was more that George could take.

It was an early night for Ellen, her date turned out to be a total jerk. She came home about 1 AM. She found Heather curled in a ball at the foot of her bed sobbing uncontrollably. To help her husband calm down she made it clear the dates were just play acting to help sell her cover story. After seeing the way Ellen looked at her date, Heather appreciated the effort but wasn’t totally convinced.

About two months later, with Ellen continuing to date and George falling deeper and deeper into a pit of depression, Nancy announced her wedding. It was planned for three months out. She asked Ellen to be her maid of honor. So as not to leave out her new friend. Heather was asked to be bridesmaid.

The wedding plans were going along smoothly until a month before the wedding when a major issue again reared its ugly head. Heather's prohibition against wearing dresses became a major issue. It took Ellen, Nancy and Betty working on him nonstop to eventually get his agreement. They cornered Heather and pointed out, "It’s not like it would be the first time you have been in skirts. On a daily basis you are already wearing bras, panties, heels and makeup. The jump to a dress is so insignificant it wouldn’t even register on the Richter scale of femininity."

"You’re right. After our jail break, I wore one. Then coming home while working at the cockroach motel I was forced into a dress. Enough is enough. I’m putting my foot down."

Ellen rebutted his argument by pointing out that if Heather refused to bend on this issue, he was potentially ruining a good friend’s day. If that was his decision, he was going to have to tell Nancy. Ellen wasn’t going to break her best friends’ heart she was counting on Heather as a bridesmaid.

The guilt trip won the day and Heather agreed to wear a dress, but he emphasized it was a one-time thing.

The dress Nancy decided on for the bridesmaids was a very feminine rose colored long dress with a lace bodice with an illusion neckline, a ribbon-defined waist, and a fluid mesh skirt with a slit. Wearing it made Heather cringe. But once he had given his word, he was determined to soldier on. Before heading to the dress fitting, Ellen spent a lot of time and effort on Heather's hair and makeup.

With the dress on he assessed himself in the mirror. Truth was, even after all this time he still was not a very pretty girl. His face, despite the makeup looked too mannish, with his large snout and square jaw. He hung his head as feelings of self-loathing and self-pity washed over him. For just this once he wished he wasn’t the ugly duckling.

The girls at the office, planned a bachelorette party for Nancy and invited Heather. Heather gave it some serious consideration. In the end, he decided to decline the offer, which he took some heat for.

On the weekend of the wedding, the official party was housed in luxury accommodations in the Hotel del Coronado, a resort right on the beach in San Diego bay. Ellen and Heather were paired up and shared a suite, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Much to Heather's delight it had only one king bed. He hadn’t slept with Ellen since she had started to date. Even if sex was off the table the thought of sleeping next to Ellen, was like a dream come true.

The first night there was no sex, but to Heather just spooning with Ellen was like he had died and gone to Heaven.

On the second night, they were invited to the traditional rehearsal dinner. Ellen was paired up with the best man, Tim, one of Darrel’s service buddies and a real stud.

Heather ended up with a groomsman named Robert, 'call me Rob'. Heather's date was above average looking, but not movie star attractive like the best man.

Each table had several bottles of wine and there was an open bar. Everyone drank a little more than was advisable. Heather watched Ellen during the meal get flirty with Tim. He couldn’t pay close attention because he was too busy fending off the advances of Rob. It was after midnight that Ellen got up and asked Heather to join her in the powder room.

Once in the elegant bathroom Ellen took Heather aside and said, "Honey, I’m about ready to leave."

A happy Heather replied. "Great. I’ll meet you in our room."

Ellen took Heather by the shoulders and with a sad heart informed her mate, "I’m sorry honey you’ll have the room to yourself. Please understand, this is not intended to hurt you but I will be spending the night in Tim’s room."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Honey, remember I am a wealthy divorcee, it is assumed that I play the field."

"You promised to never cheat in front of me?"

"Honey you have nothing to worry about, I will be safe. According to Nancy, Tim and Robert are homosexuals. All that is important is that I’m seen spending the night leaving with a man and spending the night in his room. Please don’t get upset, but I will have to make a very public display of affection. To reinforce my story of being over my marriage."

George felt his male identity slipping away.

"Okay as long as you are sure he’s gay. I won’t be upset with that."

"I am as sure as I can be. Tim and Robert live together and I have Nancy’s word for it. Now touch up your makeup and let’s get back out there to our dates. I would hate to lose Tim and end up sleeping with a real man."

Heather hesitated, so Ellen spoke insensitively, "Honey, you are attractive! Definitely dating material. It would seem queer if Heather didn’t date. Since I will be otherwise occupied tonight, take this time to broaden your horizons and enjoy yourself as a woman. It might give you a whole new perspective on your future life. Lose the water wings, stop playing in the kiddie pool, join the adults in the deep end and test the water, you might find you like it."

Heather was angry and hurt but resigned to the situation. Not happy about the situation there was nothing he could do about Ellen. He dragged himself back to his table.

He sat and watched Ellen and Tim flirt before eventually leaving arm in arm with a full bottle of whiskey with them. As Tim held the door open for Ellen, George could just make out his wife's melodic chuckle at something presumably Tim did or said. Rob saw his date watching his best friend vamoose with his most recent conquest. Rob thought now was the time to strike. He hugged Heather and invited her to spend the night in his room as it was only steps away right outside the hall on the ground floor.

Heather was inconsolable and a little tipsy. The last thing he wanted was to be alone tonight thinking about what Ellen was up to. After some persuasion, he let Rob talk him into going to his room. The two left the hall hand in hand. Once in the door of Rob’s room, he kicked off his toe cramping spike stilettos. Rob opened a bottle of bubbly and handed Heather a glass. Heather took a girly sip from the champagne flute and toasted Rob. In what was intended as a grand gesture, Rob threw his glass into the fireplace then grabbed Heather and tried to kiss him. Heather pushed him away and said, "Before things get out of hand there is something you should know about me."

Bob smiled and said, "If you mean you have an outie rather than an innie. I am aware of that."

"How?"

"Derrick briefed Tim and he told me all about you. And I don’t mind at all. In fact, it excites me. Deep down I have always wondered what it would be like to have a night of fuck and suck with a feminine man. My usual preference when dating guys is with the muscle-bound types."

"You mean you are gay like Tim?"

Bob chuckled, "Gay is not exactly accurate. We both are what is commonly referred to as bisexual. You know like the Mounds commercial, sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t."

George was dumbfounded at that revelation. "I don’t want that! I am not interested in a sexual relationship with you or any man!"

"You dumb bitch! No one asked or cares what you want! I’m the man, it’s all about my needs. You’ll put out or suffer the consequences!"

"Now enough small talk, strip off that dress and get on your knees. I feel like starting the night with a BJ. Then we can get into the bed for the main event. I am going to wear out your ass."

As a man, there was no way George could physically compete with this jerk so he looked for a way Heather could escape using her wiles rather than his muscles. Looking around the room he saw something he could use as a weapon. Fittingly it was as feminine as it could get. It was risky but better than the alternative. He let the dress slip off his shoulders and puddle to the carpet to start his plan.

His high heels were lying next to the bed, all he had to do was get near them. While Robert took off his shoes and socks and stepped out of his pants and underpants, he briefly turned his back as he threw them all onto the room's easy chair. Heather saw an opportunity and dropped to his knees and picked up one heel and concealed it behind his back.

Heather, in only his lingerie, was on his knees looking up at Rob. Stage one of his onerous task was in action. He licked his lips in a seductive manner and purred, "Come over here lover." Heather smiled up at Robert as he moved within range. Heather fought his revulsion and reached out to lightly stroked his member. As Rob closed his eyes and sighed, Heather brought the shoe up by the toe and drove the spiked heel down on the bridge of Rob’s foot with as much force as he could muster. It imbedded in his foot a good quarter of an inch. Robert howled like a wounded animal and hopped around the room until he tripped over a table and fell on his back banging his head in the process.

Heather in his underwear stood over him like an avenging angel and held the shoe overhead like a weapon. He glared down at Robert with spittle dropping out of his mouth he growled, "Now get out of here, just as you are! That should keep you out of trouble. I don’t want to see you again until the wedding."

Trying to regain some control he said, "You won’t get away with this my friends saw us come in here."

"You’re right I heard the snide remarks as we came in. I can still hear them drinking out by the pool. So why don’t you slither out the bathroom window. We wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation."

"Where will I sleep?"

"Its southern California, I suggest the beach. If you are a good boy, I will leave your pants and wallet in the room with the door unlocked when I leave in the morning. If you give me any trouble, I will flush your wallet and car keys down the crapper."

A humiliated and totally defeated Robert limped to the bathroom and managed to climb out the window, he was smart enough to take two bath towels with him. It was a mild night he slept under a lifeguard stand.

The next morning, Ellen staggered her way to their suite to find Heather sobbing on a bed that gave no signs of being slept in. Ellen with a furrowed brow assumed he was upset thinking something happened between her and Tim.

"George, what’s the matter?"

"It's nothing. Don't worry," he replied trying to dry his tears.

Ellen reached for his hand. "If this is what you're like when nothing's wrong, I'd hate to see you when there is something wrong. I think you'd better tell me all about it."

She suspected her spending the night with Tim was the trigger for this outpouring of emotion. She looped a stray strand of hair behind her ear and sat as close as she could without invading his personal space. She needed to do something before he got lost in self-pity.

"Honey, you have to believe me. Nothing happened last night. Tim wasn’t as gay as was advertised. He tried mightily to get frisky. I kept him at bay by feeding him whiskey until he passed out. I give you my word he spent the night unconscious on the floor drooling into the carpet. While I slept in the bed. Now do you feel better?"

"A little. I was crying because Robert tried to rape me last night."

"Oh my God. I’ll kill the SOB! Wait. You did say ‘tried’ so that’s good. Tell me what happened."

Heather related the entire story to Ellen. Ellen was caught between wanting to laugh or cry. The thought of Robert hopping naked across the beach was hilarious. She got up and ran Heather a bath. She sat on the side of the tub and held his hand while he soaked. He stayed in the water until it cooled. Heather felt better. Ellen took a quick shower then dropped off Heather at the hotel’s beauty salon. All the bridesmaids in the wedding party had appointments.

Ellen left to join Nancy they had a hairdresser coming to Nancy’s room where she would do Nancy’s and Ellen’s hair and makeup. Heather was close to catatonic and moved like a zombie. Whatever the beautician recommended Heather consented without thinking about it.

The first thing she did was wash and condition his hair. Then she gave Heather a complete facial beauty treatment followed by one of the spa's specialties, a bridesmaid makeover. He was seated in a chair and had a smock draped over him. The beautician plucked his eyebrows almost into oblivion, then brushed a liquid makeup over his face, followed by various layers over his eyelids and lips. She added a blush to his cheeks and carefully added long eyelashes glued in pairs on the top and below his eyes. She painted bold lines where these were placed and also drew in the eyebrow line to emphasize its thin state. She then brushed out Heather's hair in long spiral curls. While his hair was drying, a nail technician applied long acrylic nails to his hands in glamor length. Then painted them a rose color to match his lipstick and dress.

Everyone finished up about the same time. The ladies all dressed in the spa's changing room and headed directly to the beach wedding being held adjacent to the hotel. Ellen was with Nancy standing off to the side waiting for the wedding party to form up. Ellen almost didn’t recognize her Heather as he left the hotel portico and stepped onto the sand. He came into the bright sunlight, with his long curls bouncing with each step he took. For the first time Heather went beyond passable to pretty. Heather, with her long legs and beautiful head of long curls, really stood out from all of the ladies in the wedding with the exception of Ellen and the bride.

As Heather walked toward the makeshift altar, he caught a good look at Ellen. She was so gorgeous it took his breath away. He would die for her, he loved her so much.

After the ceremony, they took pictures on the beach until sunset. In one that had the groomsmen and bridesmaids, Heather accidently stepped on top of Roberts injured foot. Heather gave him an angelic smile and apologized. "I’m sorry. Hope that didn’t hurt you." He was man enough not to say anything as he limped away.

Ellen ambushed the official photographer in the parking lot as he was getting into his van. She held him hostage and demanded he show her the proofs. As Ellen scanned the digital wedding pictures, she identified the one of only the bridesmaids. She offered him an outrageously generous stipend to crop out everyone but Heather and rush her a dozen wallet size pictures of Heather for keepsakes.

At the reception, everyone had a great time with an average chicken meal which was compensated for by another open bar. Ellen spent a lot of time dancing, surprisingly, several times were with the groom. Heather was asked a number of times, all of which he declined. During a break for the DJ, Heather asked Ellen if they could dance. Ellen firmly said it would be inappropriate.

A miserable Heather went back to drinking to kill the pain.

CHAPTER 30 - Rape victims feel responsible.

Heather was not the same after his near sexual assault.

Too make matters worse, Ellen continued to date men on occasion. One Saturday night, more accurately Sunday morning, Heather watched from the bedroom window as Ellen walked her date to the door and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him goodnight.

He was green with jealously. He went into the baby's room with a blanket. He threw himself under the crib and wrapped himself in the blanket. Ellen locked up and went looking for George. On all her previous dates, she saw signs of him trying to hide the fact he had waited up for her. This time she could not find him in his bed.

Out of desperation she looked in Ariel’s room and saw him on the floor.

"Is there something wrong honey."

"You kissed him. I saw you!", he grunted with his back to her.

"It was only a peck on the lips. You have seen me kiss men before. What’s the problem?"

"You put your arms around his head and pulled him toward you. The kiss lasted forever."

"We had a really good time; I was just expressing my appreciation."

Heather continue to pout. Ellen decided he was being unreasonable and left him to his own devices. She went to bed and fell asleep.

After that night, Heather for all intents he became a recluse. Outside of the office and his doctor, he had no social interaction with anyone. He went to work, locked himself in his office until quitting time. He stopped going to lunch with the other ladies, he took no coffee breaks. When asked a question he was polite but answered in monosyllabic terms when he could. He continued to do the things required of him as a housekeeper and babysitter but moped around the house like he was attending a wake.

Ellen was concerned about his mental health. She was seeing Fred on a regular basis. Being the consummate bureaucrat, he got the government to pay for his membership in Ellen’s country club. Weekly, they would visit over lunch and he would keep her updated on the threat to her and her family. Ellen knew how much her dating was hurting her husband, she was ready to end that and go back to being a couple. Every time she brought that idea up, Fred vetoed the concept saying she was still being watched by the cartel’s agents. Every week, she resurfaced the idea hoping something had changed.

Every night, she came home to loveless household. She began to look forward to her dates, just to escape the gloom of her life at home.

George knew none of this because he had stopped talking to his wife.

He couldn’t silence the debate going on between the male and female parts of his brain. Despite the first doctor’s prognosis, he shopped doctors in an attempt to regain his masculinity and demanded he be given a course of androgens to try and stiffen him. He tried all the ED enhancement pills on the market, even some street ones that weren’t legal yet. None were the magic pill he was looking for.

His system didn’t react well to the male hormones. He became irritable and combative. He was angry that he was no longer fully a male, he was just a boy with boobs. Ellen didn’t help with the fact that she kept his closet and dresser well supplied with a plenitude of new heels and lingerie.

That afternoon, he had his weekly appointment with his analyst. He asked the question that was driving his life. "Doctor, can I ever go back to living as man again?"

Like most psychiatrist he turned the question back on George. "Is that what you really want?"

"Of course, it is! How can you ask me that?"

"Watching you each week here in the office, it seems to me; your feminine mannerisms have been fully ingrained into your psyche. George hasn’t shown up in a very long time. Heather and I are the ones talking. I have heard for hours how much you want to go back to being a man.

"Let me ask you something. Are you unhappy living as Heather? I know you aren’t satisfied with your physical appearance, but the question must go beyond your looks. If, in your heart, you are unhappy living Heather's life, the answer is yes. We can look at what it would take to teach you how to be a man again.

"It would take hours and hours of therapy and lots of hard work, to retrain your old life. Have you thought what your life would be like if you returned to looking and acting like a man? What would that do to your job, your home life, your relationship with Ellen and your child. The question you must decide is being seen as a man worth the disruption to your life. To answer your question is yes, it is possible. But, based on everything we have discussed, I wouldn’t recommend it."

George went home with a heavy heart and did some real soul searching. Eventually, he made the smart decision and decided to stop the hormones. He found that without the artificial hormones he felt more peaceful. Therefore, he resigned himself to a life of being a feminized eunuch.

He did the only thing he could. He got up every morning and went through his beauty routine, put on his mandatory undergarments. Got Ellen and Ariel fed and dropped the baby off at day care. Drove his minivan to the office where he lost himself in his work. At noon, he picked up the baby went home and did what every working mother did, cleaned the house, did the laundry gave the baby a bath made dinner and waited for his spouse to get home.

@ @ @ @

It was a week later; Ellen had just arrived home from a hard day at the office she braced herself for what was ahead. She palmed the diamond ring and Ellen called for Heather to join her in the den. Heather who was in the kitchen getting ready to put a pot-roast in the oven. Heather walked in impatient that Ellen was disturbing her dinner routine. "What is it Ms. Newman?"

Ellen stood her legs fidgeted nervously as she said, "Sit down, we need to talk."

George thought ‘This is never good.’

After Heather was seated Ellen got down on one knee and held Heathers left hand and held out a mammoth engagement ring. "Let’s get married."

George started to say something. Ellen put her finger on his lips to silence him.

"As far as society is concerned, you are only my employee. We are two eligible bachelorettes living together in the same house. I, for one, am viewed as an attractive unattached successful business woman who has actively been dating. You my dear are seen as only my au pair and an exotic single woman.

"I am assuming your tastes still do not run to well hung studs just females. Am I not feminine enough for you?"

George frowned at her. "I have no interest in men. You are all the woman I could ever want. Where is this going El?"

"I am getting there. To make this masquerade succeed, you must get in touch with your female psyche. And become my perfect, little housefrau."

My proposal is I come out as a bisexual woman leaning toward lesbians. After a time, we tell people you are one too and we are in a committed relationship. It will keep the sex hungry vultures from both sexes swooping down on us like so much carrion."

Honey I am doing it for us. Remember when I sold our wedding bands? This gives us an excuse to get new ones. Now answer my question will you marry me?"

George was stunned by Ellen’s proposal. "I will need time to digest this. Can we talk about it later?"

He looked down at a disappointed Ellen, still on her knees waiting for his answer to her proposal. He had a lot to think about. Physically, his body no longer resembled a male. It had been reduced to a soft weak female one. Was he ready to capitulate his masculine role of husband, in favor of being a dutiful wife and all that would entail?

Ellen put off her announcement of being a lesbian until George agreed to marry her.

It took an entire weekend of deep consideration. Monday, he stayed home. He finally made a decision and was so energized he had to do something to settle his nerves. He cleaned the entire house and cooked a gourmet meal and chilled the best bottle of wine he could fine. When Ellen walked in, he sat her down and said, "If I say yes, it will be with one condition. Our relationship must be based on mutual respect and be a true partnership! I will not be just your servant."

Ellen kissed him full on the mouth then pushed Heather back and announced, "That goes without saying, but you must understand this is our second marriage. Things are going to be different." She said with a devilish cackle. Not waiting for a response, she went on, "Previously, I was the stay at home wife. I now have a thriving company to run. I don’t have the time or energy to keep the house and take care of our baby. It’s your turn to carry the load. So, you will be the housekeeper and provide the child care for our baby, while I go off to my job."

"That sounds like you want me to be the wife."

Ellen smiled at him. "You say that like being a wife is a negative thing. It’s the wife that makes a house a home. If you have a problem with that, we need to talk about it. Let’s face it you have already taken over the role of homemaker for this family, it’s a short jump to becoming my wife."

"I still need time to think this through. Is that alright?"

"Sure, take all the time you need." Said a disheartened Ellen. She was sure Heather would jump at her proposal.

To George, this would mean he will be giving up the last vestige of his manhood. A thousand things were ricocheting around in his head.

He thought, ‘Agreeing to remarry his wife is one thing. She has made it clear that she is looking for a wife, not a stand-in husband. She will take on all the traditional roles of head of the household, while I will be required to fill in as the supporting subservient partner and homemaker.

‘I have accepted the fact I will never look the part of a man again. But being a wife is a serious step. It is something I will have to really think about. I am happy with my life as is, perhaps the best thing for me to do would be to say no and just leave things as they are now.

'How would Ellen deal with the rejection is a major concern. I am going to have to sleep on this.’

The next week, Ellen took George out for a candle-lit dinner at a fancy restaurant. After a filling meal, Ellen got down on one knee in front of God and everyone she got down on one knee. She popped the question again. Slipping the ring on his finger she asked, "What do you say? I love you. Will Heather Love marry me?"

The ring was spectacular and appeared to Heather to be so large it was almost ostentatious, yet Heather loved it immediately. Staring down at the sparkling jewel on his ring finger, his heart melted as it signified the love Ellen had for him. In that instant all his doubts and concerns vanished like a puff of smoke. He would be the best damn wife a woman ever had.

With tears of joy in his eyes Heather answered, "YES! I will! How soon can we do it?"

"For convention's sake, I think it best to wait a while. I always wanted a June wedding. How about next June? That will make it appear that our bonding is truly romantic and not just a rebound thing. During the coming year I will have to be seen dating woman. Making it appear I am looking for a female mate, eventually we will need to be seen dating each other, then the announcement of our engagement will not be a surprise.

"In a more practical sense, it will take that long to plan our wedding. The first time we didn’t have any money so we were married at city hall. Our reception was held at the Elks lodge. Now we are affluent, I want to go all out this time and do it right. To hell with the cost!"

He went to sleep wearing the ring, he ‘forgot’ to take it off and wore it to work. No matter what the consequences the ring wasn’t coming off. At work, not one of the women, failed to notice a ring the size of the Rock of Gibraltar and congratulate her. Heather beamed with pride, and happiness. When they asked who the lucky guy was Heather played it coy and refused to tell them.

@ @ @ @

As his wedding approached, a creeping melancholia overtook him. It became so severe he broke out in a case of hives. The next six weeks were a living hell with a rash covering his back.

George wasn’t an idiot and spent a lot of time in self-contemplation. He knew for his own sanity he had to come to terms with who he was and who Heather was going to be. Ellen deserved a commitment one way or another. He had to shit or get off the pot. There was never any question of whether he would go through with the wedding and become the wife Ellen wanted him to be. He would do that because his love for his wife and daughter required it.

The baby was down for a nap. The table set, the washing was in dry cycle, and dinner was in the crockpot. It had been a gloomy overcast day that mirrored his emotions. To make matters worse, he was in the kitchen on his knees cleaning the oven, one of his more onerous chores.

The task wasn’t exactly rocket science which gave him plenty of opportunity to reflect on his situation. At the present, he felt like a scullery maid. His head was inside the oven scrubbing off baked on crud. When the fumes got to him, he raised his head too fast and banged it on the oven, causing Heather to see stars. As his senses cleared, it hit him like a bolt from the blue. He wasn’t the alpha male he once was, rather he had flipped positions with his wife. He was the homemaker in his marriage while Ellen was now the primary bread winner. Her working long hours meant he was forced to pick up more of the mothering responsibilities.

No self-respecting father and husband would want to trade in his man card to be a stereotypical stay at home suburbanite wife. Then, chuckling to himself he added, well maybe not so typical. He wanted to be resentful but he recalled the look of appreciation and gratitude on his wife and daughter for all he did to make their house a home. He knew this lifestyle wasn’t exactly the manliest but he couldn’t deny that it actually made him happy. He hypothesized that the universe played the ultimate practical joke on him as he was actually predisposed for this life style since to be honest he was always more a gather than a hunter. Would he rather be living his life as a father? Hell yes!

Unfortunately, that decision had been taken out of his hands.

CHAPTER 31 - Around 50 % of marriages in the United States end in divorce.

Ellen was extremely apprehensive about her husband and their future together. He had been so depressed lately that she never knew what to expect when she arrived home each night. Heather had even taken to sleeping in the spare bedroom on most nights, claiming it was so Ellen could be assured a good night’s rest.

When she had proposed to George it de facto was asking him to become her wife. As she thought about it, she was beginning to feel that it had been a colossal mistake. She could now see it was more than his male ego could withstand.

Circumstances had dictated that George had to live his life pretending to be a woman and he had managed to accept it. She had made matters worse by forcing him to become a pseudo homemaker. Without complaint, he had assumed responsibility for the majority of the housework. But it was not a life style he pursued. He must think that she was trying to rub his nose in it. But she had actually done it out of love. She wanted the world to know she loved George no matter what name or gender he was assuming. She continually racked her brain to think of a way to help her husband.

Those concerns vanished one rainy Friday night when she came home from a late dinner meeting with clients. As she opened the door and stepped inside, she did a double-take as her jaw dropped open and her purse fell to the floor. Before her stood her husband who had so strenuously proclaimed, he wanted to look like a man and had no interest in feminine fluff, was now resplendent in outrageously girly regalia.

Heather stood there with a silly grin on his face, wearing full dramatic makeup with his face framed by his hair in soft curls that fell to the nape of his neck. Almost unbelievably, Ellen saw that Heather was wearing a pair of dangling ruby earrings that George had given her as a birthday present. He had manicured and polished his fingernails a deep red to match his lipstick.

It was also apparent that he had raided her intimate’s drawer. He posed at the door wearing her sexiest lime green, translucent floor-length Victoria’s Secret nightgown. Even from several steps away, Ellen could smell that he was wearing her best perfume. Before she could inquire what was going on Heather spoke in a soft breathy tone and asked, "Hi honey. How was your day? Let’s sit down and have some coffee while you tell me all about it."

Trying to ascertain what had happened to him she asked, "Heather, how was your day?"

Heather smiled coyly, "Let’s just say that no one ever had an orgasm while scrubbing the kitchen floor.

Come join me and we can talk."

Ellen picked up her purse and made it to the couch, bewildered by Heather's sudden transformation. Trying act casually until she could determine what Heather’s game was, she replied, "The meeting was fine. I think we have a new, very rich client."

Heather, in her tallest heels, glided over to Ellen and held out a coffee cup.

Ellen looked up from the coffee and into Heather's eyes, "Isn’t it a little late for coffee?"

With a sheepish grin he answered, "It’s Irish coffee."

Ellen wasn’t sure where this was going but was happy with the change. Then something popped into her head, "Wait a minute. I thought we were out of coffee."

With a saucy smile on his face, Heather took a sip from his cup and responded, "We are."

Taking Ellen by the hand he added, "Let’s take this to the bedroom and drink it in bed, there are things I want to discuss with you."

Confused by the complete change in Heather's demeanor, Ellen frowned slightly and asked, "What’s gotten into you?"

Heather gave her a wide-eyed look, as to indicate that he really did not understand why Ellen was asking. It was obvious from the twinkle in his eye that he was enjoying the game he was playing.

"I have no idea what you are referring to. I am just performing my duties as designated mistress of the house."

They discussed his responsibilities three times that night before they collapsed entwined in each other’s arms and slept satisfied and exhausted.

@ @ @ @

Ellen decided to return the favor the next day. She left work right after Heather and hurried home. It was close but she managed to greet him at the door wearing only a smile and her favorite teddy and panties. The teddy was sheer white with lace cups and cut high on the hips to her waist leaving the thin strip of cloth of her G-string pressed tight against her pussy. Along with her thigh-high sheer white stockings and white pumps.

When Heather opened the door holding Ariel, Ellen yelled 'Surprise!' and he almost dropped the startled baby. The sight before him made him shudder with the strength of his desire for his wife. She was the most gorgeous woman in the world.

After putting Ariel to bed, they almost made it to their bedroom before Heather wrestled his wife to the carpet. Ellen had three orgasms before they ever made it to their bed. After their vigorous love making, Ellen felt guilty she had been several spectacular orgasms, yet couldn’t tell if her husband had been so lucky.

She knew it was a touchy subject but she had to ask, "Dear, let me ask you. Did you ever cross the goal line last night?"

George thought how best to phrase it and eventually said, "No I came up a few inches short a couple of times. That’s not important. I play for the love of the game and never keep score."

Ellen smiled and said "In that case let’s schedule a rematch for tonight."

George laughed and replied. "Actually, I was thinking of a double header, if you can handle that?"

He awoke the next morning and made a resolution. For Ellen’s sake, he would work harder to be more feminine each day.

The first thing he did was set up a standing Saturday morning appoint with a hair dresser. He got a shampoo and his nails done. It worked out well since Ellen spent Saturday mornings at the gym with Derrick working out. She always returned from her workout flushed and smelling musky and sweaty. Ellen always went directly to their bathroom and took a long shower, not even stopping for a kiss hello. Afterwards, she would take a quick nap and she was recharged by noon and ready for remainder of the day.

CHAPTER 32 - It's perfectly okay to make a decision and then change your mind. Being able to change your mind is the best way to find out you still have one.

Heather's outlook on life changed after that night. The guest bedroom served only guests from then on. Heather’s reluctance to wear dresses remained firm, though he did give up his rule of no nightgowns. From that night on, he wore silky nighties to bed whenever he slept with Ellen. Even though Heather now classified himself as being intersex, they enjoyed a satisfying sex life. With the exception of Friday nights. Ellen made it clear she wanted to be rested for her Saturday morning workout with Derrick at the gym.

They maintained a professional relationship at work with absolutely no public shows of affection. They thought they had everyone fooled until the day Kellie caught Heather alone in the bathroom. As they stood next to each other repairing their lipstick, Kellie looked Heather in the eye and said, "Heather, I don’t know who you think you’re fooling."

Heather wrinkled his brow and responded, "Whatever are you talking about?"

Kellie rolled her eyes and replied, "Come on honey, everyone has seen the way you look at Ms. Newman. Tell me the truth, there is something going on between you two. The rumors about the boss and you are spreading like wildfire."

She grinned at Heather as she continued, "The office pool has you 10 to 1 on being a clandestine dyke, despite the ring on your finger. You've never mentioned or have even been seen with a man. Can you honestly tell me your preference of bed partners isn’t with women?"

Heather blushed and broke eye contact.

Kellie smiled, "It’s alright sweetie you don’t have to say anything."

Almost coincidentally, Ellen called a meeting of the entire office the next day. Once everyone was gathered, she announced that she had come to the realization that she was actually bisexual. She wanted everyone to be aware of her orientation in case someone had an issue with it.

After that, she started going out openly with women. As luck would have it, they were all clients or perspective clients. Ellen’s business clientele base grew exponentially. George was very supportive of these flirtations. He was not threatened by them, like he was when Ellen was being courted by manly gigolos. He couldn’t compete with the men, but women were an entirely different ball game. While he couldn’t hold a candle to those women in the beauty department, he knew in his heart he would win every time in the bedroom.

After a few weeks, Ellen and Heather started dating openly. Their first dates were interspersed between her business social outings. At first, Ellen took Heather only to straight nightclubs where she was well known. After a dozen or so of these mundane dates, their social outings morphed into visits to gay clubs. Finally, Ellen took her betrothed to a lesbian dance club where they were free to show their love openly. Heather finally got to dance with Ellen.

They became a known couple in the LGBT community. Heather enjoyed being pretty for his suitor. When they were parked up on lover’s lane, he would occasionally allow Ellen to get to second base. One special starlit night, after two bottles of delicious wine, Heather let her guard down and Ellen managed to round all four.

The speculations were running rampant about who it was that put the smile on the boss’ face. Then out of the blue Ellen called a meeting of everyone in the company, she made her engagement to Heather official. No one was surprised and everyone went back to their desks.

Nancy went to Ellen's office a short time later. Knocking on the door she said, "Ellen, can we talk privately?"

Ellen looked up from the report she was reviewing and replied, "Sure, come in."

Nancy closed the door behind her and then locked it. Standing before Ellen’s desk she said, "Ellen, I hope I am not overstepping my bounds here. We are more than business partners. I would like to think we are best friends."

Ellen sat back in her chair and nodded. "That is how I feel. We can talk about anything. What’s on your mind?"

Nancy frowned at her. "Ellen, you are a young, successful and attractive woman."

Ellen smiled at the compliment. "So far we are in an agreement. Please go on."

"You can have almost any stud you want. Why on earth are you sacrificing your freedom for that dyke of your ex-husband? I understand you feel some loyalty toward him, but I think you are taking it too far." Nancy was waving her hands as she spoke. "You have to put yourself first. From what you tell me, he isn’t even a man anymore. There is no way he can satisfy you as a woman."

Ellen’s eyes narrowed over with anger and she fought hard to maintain control. "That's true. Even at his best, his performance couldn’t hold a candle to men like your husband. You are so lucky to have him."

Nancy’s blood started to boil, "Ellen are you telling me that you and Derrick..."

Ellen realized she had let her mouth run away with her, "Oops sorry about that. Don’t get your bloomers in a wad. It was long before you two got engaged. It’s ancient history!"

Nancy thought about it, recalling that she wasn’t exactly celibate before Derrick so she shouldn’t hold Ellen to a standard she couldn’t match.

She got her emotions under control and said, "Listen to me. I will warn you this once, if you and Derrick ever move from ancient history and become a current event, you and I are going to have a serious problem."

Ellen said calmly, "Nancy, please don’t worry, I would never betray my best friend."

Nancy just looked back, "Forgive me, that doesn’t give me a warm and fuzzy. You didn’t seem to have any compunctions on two-timing your husband."

Ellen floundered for just a moment before she replied, "That’s not fair, it was a different situation. My husband was locked up in a Mexican jail hundred miles away. I didn’t know if he would ever come home to me. As it turned out, he never did. I traded in a mediocre husband for a new best friend and world class lover, albeit a lesbian one."

Nancy nodded at her answer, "Ellen, I hope we are still friends. A onetime dalliance shouldn’t come between friends."

Ellen fought hard to keep from smiling and responded. "Okay, let’s go with that."

Ellen thought to herself, ‘Well that was mostly true. It helps to hide a lie within the truth sometimes.’

Nancy wasn’t going to go away until she understood why her friend was willing to give up on men for her feminized husband. "Why the hell do you keep that eunuch around?"

Ellen smiled, "One of the reasons is that he has the tongue of a gecko. A man, even yours, is good for maybe twice an hour. In that time, my Heather can bring me off three or four times. Plus, he is my bestie and I love him."

Nancy grimaced and said, "Come on Ellen, I have had great cunnilingus experiences but they don’t compare to a stud filling you with a great big sausage."

Ellen sighed.

"Nancy you are young and inexperienced. My Heather’s tongue is malleable, soft, warm and lubricated. I find that it provides such intense stimulation that it is the best way for me to achieve orgasm."

Shocked, Nancy exclaimed, "Oh, come off it, you can’t tell me you don’t miss the feeling of penetration. "

Ellen smiled at Nancy, "I spent a lot of my life chasing the next big ‘O’, just to feel the big bang. I admit that with George and now Heather it is more like a small pop. But afterward I feel totally contented. I am intimate with a person who loves me and I them. We make each other happy. Isn’t that what’s all about? That is a much better sensation than the short-lived climax. With Heather, there is a feeling of intimacy that I never got hopping from one bed to the next."

@ @ @ @

Heather knew he had already set the precedent about wearing a dress at weddings, so he made no complaint when Ellen insisted that they go shopping for wedding dresses together. Much to Heather's delight, Ellen announced they both would be wearing a white wedding dress. Ellen, of course, made the selection on both dresses. Cost was not an issue.

Heather attempted to act indifferent about the selection, trying hard not to let his enthusiasm show. Holding up the dress Ellen selected for him, he was absolutely blown away at how amazing it was. His insides were doing the happy dance, it was the first time he looked forward to wearing a dress.

He ended up with a Princess V-neck chiffon wedding dress with a long train. Then reality hit, when he tried it on. The dress was perfect except his figure didn’t fill it out in the most critical of locations. He wasn’t well endowed; the dress accentuated his almost total lack of mammary glands.

Both he and Ellen loved the dress except for the total absence of a feminine décolletage. It was obvious he needed help up top. The dress needed to be filled with something that George was lacking. The most obvious solutions were breast forms, that Ellen suggested. But the thought of wearing forms again brought back very unpleasant memories. George made it clear to his wife, he was not going to allow her to glue forms on him again.

Ellen came up with a compromise that was suitable to both of them. She went to the mall and came home with a padded pushup sticky bra. Once it was on it gave Heather the appearance of a nice set of C sized boobs.

Wanting a contrast in dresses, Ellen selected for herself a low scooped neck mini lace dress. Not needing any help top side, Ellen looked spectacular. After the obligatory alterations both brides were delirious with their gowns.

The girls at the office threw separate bachelorette parties for the two brides. They took Ellen to a male strip club where the party went through over a hundred dollars is one-dollar bills. During a break in the music, Kellie, who had too much to drink, turned to her boss and said, "Ms. Newman, I have worked for you almost from the start, all of the office staff have been wondering. Are you sure marrying Heather is a good idea? No offence she isn’t exactly the pick of the litter, more like the runt of the litter if you ask me. You said you are a confirmed bisexual. You can have almost any man you want, why would you settle for her."

Ellen broke her gaze away from the cowboy standing a few feet away wearing nothing but a smile and leather chaps and answered her employee's question. "I have given that a lot of thought. Heather is the only person I want. She is the best person I have ever known. She is a sweet and an attentive creature, who just happens to have both an X and a Y chromosome."

Both girls turned their attention back to the stage and marveled at the size of the fireman’s hose. It took a while before the ramifications of that last statement made it way through her alcohol-soaked brain. The implication that Heather was really a man mimicking a woman spawned weeks of gossip in the break room.

@ @ @ @

They dragged Heather to a sports bar after she refused to go to a strip club. At the bar, Heather was hit on by three different guys, even if they were a little tipsy. He was conflicted, caught between being flattered and embarrassed. To his girlfriends it was hilarious, they had paid the biggest stud in the club to hit on Heather. No normal girl would turn him down. The bet was settled, that Heather was Bi, the rest were sure she was a straight lipstick lesbian. Her indifference to the stud confirmed their supposition she was a ‘straight’ lesbian.

Heather insisted he was going to a player in the planning for their wedding. Right from the start there was a major struggle, often contentious, about Derrick being involved in the wedding party. Ellen insisted he have some role; Heather didn’t even want him invited. The final decision took some delicate negotiations.

Since the wedding had two brides and no groom it was decided each would have a maid of honor. Ellen asked Nancy and Heather asked his sister Beth. Ellen had three of the girls from work as bridesmaids. Heather had his three former motel roommates on his side. There were no male ushers. The only man in the wedding would be Derrick.

Neither of the brides had a living parent so the ex-Seal would walk both girls down the aisle wearing his dress uniform adorned with a plethora of medals and ribbons. Ellen would take her position on his right and Heather on his left.

Like everything else in the relationship, Ellen wanted an unorthodox location for their nuptials. It took a lot of looking and discussion on where the venue for the event was to be. They, that is Ellen, finally selected the San Diego Zoo.

An outdoor wedding is always a crap shot. But being in southern California, the weather tended to put the odds in their favor. The Friday before the wedding, Ellen cornered her fiancée and begged, "Honey, can I ask you to do me a very big favor? I’m sure you are going to say no."

George was shocked she thought he would deny her anything. "To coin a phrase, ask and ye shall receive."

"Alright but don’t say I didn’t warn you. We both have appointments at my beauty salon tomorrow morning at 7 A.M. I'll drive us there. Bring cab fare to get you home. After I get my makeup done, I don’t want you to see me until we walk down the aisle. I have requested the bridal makeover special for both of us."

Heather shrugged he had anticipated something like this after his experience at Nancy’s wedding.

Ellen paused before she asked, "My question is Heather, will you go along with the entire package? I want this to be a perfect day."

George was getting a little nervous at the idea, "I assume you are talking about changing my hair style, a lot of makeup, and nails like last time."

Ellen smiled, "Yes, that is part of it. My question still stands. Will you go along with the entire procedure, even the parts you might be uncomfortable with?"

George couldn’t imagine what else could be involved so he felt safe to agree.

"Of course, dear. If that is what you want, you have my word."

Ellen threw her arms around his neck and covered his face with butterfly kisses. Between kisses saying. "Thank you."

The Saturday of the wedding was warm and sunny. Ellen drove them both to the salon. She signed them in and kissed her bride goodbye and went her way.

A large blonde Amazonian woman, whose name tag identified her as Ursula said, "Follow me. Go into the dressing room and strip off everything. I do mean everything!"

"Ursula, what’s going on? I'm here for a makeover. Why do I need to be naked?"

With a smirk on her face, an impatient Ursula sneered, "That’s Miss Ursula to you Ms. Love. I have been briefed on your unique situation. I volunteered to be the attendant who is going to give you a full body waxing. Clothes even under pants would only get in the way. I know you are familiar with manscaping. This is just the next logical step for a person like you."

George robotically crossed his hands attempting to cover his groin.

Ursula sardonically smiled, "Yes dear, you get the idea. This is a ‘full’ body procedure. Now strip and make it quick, we are on a tight time schedule. Are you going to cooperate? Or do I have to take matters into my own hands."

George nodded yes but said nothing.

Ursula added, "I’m so glad that we could come to an understanding. There are hooks on the wall for your clothes. I’ll wait out here, come on out when your ass is bare."

It was an experience George would never forget. With his scarcity of body hair, ripping the hair from his legs, chest, back and arms can be described as a nuisance. Now ripping the hair from his arm pits was an entirely different matter. But even that paled to when Miss Ursula went to work on his privates. That was some quality pain that brought tears to his eyes and sissy screams from his quivering mouth.

After his ordeal was over, he was given a soft pink robe and slippers, then led to the nail technician’s station. She was a lot friendlier than Ursula and started the visit by examining his hands and said, "Relax dearie, this won’t hurt. I know all brides have their heart set on long nails for that special event. We suggest an enhancement be no longer than double the length of girl’s natural nail. That is what I will do unless you insist otherwise." George remained mute. "That's settled so let’s talk about shape. Your best shape in my opinion is square. Unless you strongly disagree, I think for a bride we will go with long length Acrylic French nails." She assured Heather they would look good and were guaranteed to last through the honeymoon, no matter how vigorous she became.

When the technician had worked her magic. Heather stared at her hands with their talons. He wasn’t crazy about having long nails for three weeks but he had to admit that he absolutely loved the way they made his hands look. He thanked the manicurist profusely. She showed him out and extend her best wishes to the bride to be.

He was next taken to the hair stylist. The chairs were in a room with mirrors decorating every wall. The stylist took his hair out of its pony tail and studied his look. She said, "We need to add more length and volume. Do you trust me?"

Heather nodded yes.

Checking the clock, and she went right to work. She shampooed his hair, and added clip-in human hair extensions. She claimed they were so good that they would turn heads. She guaranteed.it. Then she went a step further and gave him subtle red highlights. He left with his bangs covering one eye and his hair now full body and shoulder length. It hung in long free-flowing waves. He was promised that it was a low maintenance look and it would fall into place on its own.

As he was about to stand up, Nancy the woman who had worked the wonders on his hair asked, "As long as you are here how about we give you a second ear hole. It is all the rage now days the guys love it."

His lower lip trembled a bit before he answered, "I am not sure if my lover wants it. I’ll get back to you on it."

With the question of ear-piercing still unsettled, they moved on to his makeover. He sat watching her paint and powder his face. An hour later, he had on foundation, his nose was made to look smaller with a magic use of contour powder, and pink eyeshadow and eyeliner made his eyes pop. He also had on long false eyelashes coated in black mascara which felt heavy on his eyelids every time he blinked. His lips were outlined to make them appear fuller. Lastly, she applied frosty pink lipstick followed by clear shinny lip gloss which tasted like strawberries.

A limo took Heather to the wedding. The actual wedding was almost anticlimactic. It was a gusty day as the Santa Ana winds were blowing. They took their vows overlooking a vast savanna landscape while herds of rhinos, giraffes, and gazelles roamed in the distance. George had no guests in attendance. Ellen’s side was filled with business associates, plus a few girls she met while on her wild Rumspringa period.

Derrick walked both brides to the makeshift altar and kissed both ladies on the cheek before taking his seat next to Nancy. Ellen stood there in the bright sunlight and stared at her beautiful bride with incredible pride and joy and just a hint of lust in her heart. She realized her love for this person was so great she would never do anything to hurt him. And if she did, she would do anything to keep it from him. At the appropriate time, they recited their vows. Heather added at the end of hers that he would not only stand besides his wife, he would always stand with her. They exchanged rings. The kiss at the end on the ceremony was passionate and endearing. The minister announced, "Let me introduce for the first time, Mrs. and Mrs. Ellen Newman." Everyone clapped as they walked down the aisle.

When they were alone in the limo headed to the reception Ellen asked "How did you enjoy the makeover? I’m dying to see how you turned out."

He just offered her a weak smile. He was embarrassed that he had been so gullible that Ellen had tricked him. He wasn’t going to give Ellen the satisfaction of knowing how mortified he had been.

"Damn it, woman! Answer my question. Let’s not start our marriage off on the wrong foot!"

Heather looked at his wife through his bangs and said, "I’ll show you mine after you show me yours."

Ellen tittered, "Why you vixen. You are going to get it tonight."

Heather replied, "I think you are all talk and no action. But we will see."

Ellen play-socked Heather on the arm. They smooched on the drive to the reception.

The reception was back at Ellen’s country club. It was a strange party with only one outwardly male in attendance. Ellen and Heather stood in the reception line. Ellen turned and faced her mate with a sad deadpan expression on her face, "I sure wish our parents good have been here to share this day with their daughter. My parents would have understood about us."

Heather looked off into the distance, "My father would have totally freaked out and disowned me on the spot after seeing me in a dress. My mother, on the other hand, would have celebrated that her son was now a princess. She was big into fortune tellers and tarot cards, that kind of thing. When she was pregnant with me, a gypsy lady gave her a Psychic reading and told my mother she was going to have a girl. She was so sure of that; she had my father paint the nursery pink. I don’t think she was disappointed I was a boy but looking at me now I am sure she is in heaven smiling down on her daughter."

A number of the girls paired up and danced. As can be imagined, Derrick was in great demand as a dance partner. Ellen grabbed him for the father-daughter dance. He even danced once with Heather, although Heather was really uncomfortable with it. The two of them threw their bouquets together. Kellie wrestled one away from one of the Hispanic maids. The other hit Derrick in the chest, he reacted like he had stuck his finger in a light socket. Everyone laughed at his reaction.

The happy couple spent their first night as a married couple in their own bedroom.

Beth and Nancy got into a major fight over who got to take care of the baby while her parents were off frolicking on the beach. Nancy eventually won out because Derrick was there to help. Betty was still single.

CHAPTER 33 - Happiness can be a dangerous thing; it can make you greedy for more.

The next morning, Ellen had to wake Heather up because she had been worn out from the night’s activities. It was a rush getting ready for their flight. Ellen had kept their destination a guarded secret. Heather asked, "Where are we going?"

As they waited in line to check into the airline. Ellen relented, "Honey trust me, you’ll love it. It will be two bodacious babes on the beaches of Bali for seven days and nights."

Their suitcases consisted of one carry on. Heather questioned the scarcity of luggage. Ellen smiled and answered, "It contains your honeymoon trousseau. There is everything we’ll need. Three Bikinis, flip flops, night wear and makeup."

When Heather looked skeptical Ellen added, "I have my gold card. We can buy anything else we might need."

The flight was long even in first class. After the inflight dinner, Ellen suggested to her new wife that they might join the mile-high club. Heather’s conservative nature forced her to decline the offer.

At their hotel, they were shown to the honeymoon suit. There room overlooked the placid Indian Ocean, and yards of pristine white beaches.

The beaches were clothing optional and Ellen was determined to take advantage of that. Ellen unpacked the three bikinis that would be barely legal in the States. Her spouse was going to look scrumptious in them with his small firm tits and bubble butt. Obviously, Heather couldn’t join her nude, so Ellen worked on him to at least go topless. That proved to be a bridge too far. Hence the bikinis. She had made it a point to pack two nylon chiffon peignoir night gowns for the honeymoon. One in pink, the other in blue. The first night, Ellen arm wrestled Heather for the right to choose which color for the night. Needless to say, Ellen got her choice.

The two newlyweds had seven glorious days. Ellen came back with an all over tan, while Heather had unmistakable bikini tan lines.

Both newlyweds walked off the plane with smiles on their faces. Ellen once again got her wish and the very exclusive mile high club had two new members. Both brides were anxious to pick up Ariel Georgina. Arriving at Nancy’s home, they were delighted to see their daughter was well and happy.

Heather held the baby in his arms as they headed for the door. The baby had just started talking. Ellen turned to her daughter and told her to say goodbye. Ariel waved at Nancy and got out Bye Bye. Then turning to face Derrick she said bye Da Da.

Heather about dropped the baby.

In the car, Heather asked Ellen, "What do you think that was all about?"

"Honey, she’s a baby. Derrick is the only male figure in her life. I am sure it is just a case of transference. I wouldn’t read anything into it."

On Heather's first day back at work post honeymoon, his morning was interrupted by Ellen’s lawyer. Entering his office, he explained that because of Heathers unusual … background from a legal standpoint, Ellen needed to protect her company. He closed Heather's office door and laid out a large stack of papers on the desk. The first was written in legalese that appeared to Heather to be the equivalent of a prenuptial agreement. When translated into English it said that if he and Ellen ever separated, Heather had no rights to her company other than those given specifically to him.

Which came next, Ellen was selling Heather 24% of the company to Heather for a dollar. He explained that since Nancy had 25% Ellen would retain 51% of the company and would always have controlling interest.

The next form was an application for Heather to formally adopt Ariel so if something happened to Ellen, Heather would be her legal guardian.

Then, as an afterthought, he signed a $100,000 life insurance policy paid for by the company with Ariel being the primary beneficiary. At the bottom of the pile was a living will and a medical power of attorney with Ellen assigned as the healthcare agent to make medical decisions when the principal became incapacitated or too ill to make decisions on their own. The lawyer had Heather sign the forms as both George Trousdale and Heather Newman.

@ @ @ @

Post honeymoon, much to Ellen’s chagrin, his reluctance to wear dresses continued unabated.

Heather developed into a loving partner, he was calmer and gentler and loved to just cuddle and kiss. Over time, lesbian sex lost its allure to Ellen, sex became an afterthought. Ellen loved the new him but was having difficulty dealing with his monthly mood swings. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn he was on a woman’s cycle.

As a happy home maker, he initially felt trapped. He suffered the mental trauma of being forced to live a women's life. It required a drastic realignment of the way he viewed his life. He came to accept the fact he was no longer fully male. So, he gave up on any hopes of turning back the clock on his sexuality. He saw the best way he could support his family was as a homemaker. Therefore, he decided he would be the greatest wife, mother, and the best damn domestic engineer he could be.

Life settled into a comfortable routine. Both Heather and Ellen appeared to be deliriously happy. Monday through Friday, Heather happily took care of his family, went to work as a bookkeeper, got the baby to child care, cooked dinner, and did routine housecleaning chores. Unfortunately, Heather never developed into a good cook, resulting in a lot of fast food dinners and eating out. As Heather would say to Ellen when she complained about his cooking skills, "Nobody’s perfect."

Ellen could not have been happier though. She had a beautiful heathy child and a loving wife to take care of the old homestead and to keep her bed warn at night. Her business continued to thrive, she even had some of the Hollywood and sport types seek out her services. As the money poured in, Ellen moved her family into a new home, in a gated community in the exclusive Rancho Palos Verdes estates. She had the best security system available put into their home.

It was more house than they needed. Five bedrooms, three full bathrooms, two with whirlpool bathtubs, a formal dining room, a family and video room. The new house was a challenge for Heather to keep clean. She had to really hustle to get home from her day job, exchange her business suit for something more practical to clean in.

As a joke, Ellen had Heather's old maid’s uniform from the motel cleaned and it always hung in Heather's closet. Heather would move it to the back, Ellen would move it back to the front. It was a little game they played.

As if the house wasn’t grand enough, Ellen had an Olympic sized swimming pool and tennis courts added. Heather got a lot of use out of the pool, but didn’t play tennis.

Ellen took tennis lessons and she had a standing Saturday morning game scheduled with Derrick. During the matches, Nancy and Heather would sit in the shade drinking Bloody Marys and watching them as Ariel played in her sandbox nearby. After the athletes had showered, the four adults and Ariel would all go for brunch. The weekend afternoons for Heather were devoted to doing household chores and running errands while everyone else retreated to the video room or hung out by the pool.

The Newman family saw a lot of Nancy and Derrick. They had a standing invitation to join them at all holidays and every Sunday for dinner. Much to Heather's horror Ariel had gone from calling Derrick, Da Da to daddy. The one saving grace was when they were alone. The baby religiously called him Mommy and Ellen mother. When Ariel would look at him and hold out her little arms and called for her Mommy his heart melted. He made a promise to himself when Ariel was old enough to understand he would tell her the whole story.

Once warm Sunny afternoon, after Ellen and Derrick’s tennis game the entire gang set out for brunch at Ellen’s club. The baby had been secured in her car seat in the rear of the minivan, Ellen was in the front seat while Derrick drove. Nancy had gotten in and was sitting next to the baby. Ellen turned to Heather as she was about to climb in and asked, "Honey, I forgot my purse. Could you run back in a get it for me? I think I left it on the kitchen counter."

While Heather was gone, Nancy and Ellen had a discussion about how Ellen managed to keep her huge house so spotless Nancy said. "We have been friends for a long time. I can’t see how you find the time to clean, your home is always spotless." Ellen smiled and answered, "Easy Heather and I share the work." Nancy was curious, "How do you divide up the chores?"

"Simple, we split it 50-50. She does all the domestic chores, such as the child care, cooking and cleaning. For my share I bring home the bacon and pay someone to take care of the yard. That seems fair to me."

Nancy gave Ellen a surprised look. "Is she happy with that arrangement?"

Ellen shrugged. This was something that she never thought about.

Ellen tried to explain her position, "In all honesty, she has never complained. I have never asked. I do know she would love me to be more demonstrative in my appreciation. I try and avoid doing that though. I don’t want to spoil the help! Hell, the next thing you know she will be asking for weekends and holidays off and expecting me to help around the house. Let me tell you that isn’t going to happen. I had eight years as the housewife, now it is his turn."

Ellen went on, "The house is mine, just as Heather is my wife. She does what a good wife should. I have learned as an executive no one should be rewarded for just doing their job. I don’t want to sound heartless he already gets room and board and I am so generous I gave her a car and a no limit credit card. She can buy anything she wants. She lives a pretty good life. Heather has it made, a beautiful bedroom her private bath. Her closet is full of designer clothes. I mostly ignored her while she is working so she can get on with her house hold chores. As far I am concerned, it is a win, win situation." Beamed Ellen.

In response to Ellen’s request, Heather hurried back into the house not wanting to keep everyone waiting. He grabbed for his wife’s purse, but in his haste managed to knock it over. The contents scattered across the floor. He bent to scoop them up. He found what was to be expected, lipstick, a compact, a wallet, a lacy hanky, comb, two tampons, as he started to stand up, he noticed something under the counter. He picked it up and was astonished. It was a half empty wheel of birth control pills. This was the second time. He couldn’t help but wonder why his wife needed birth control. This time he was going to confront her with the evidence.

He threw them angerly into the purse and headed out to the waiting van.

He climbed in and stared straight ahead. At the restaurant, he was mute. Ellen spent her time feeding the baby, chatting with Nancy, and flirting with Derrek. As they got up to leave, Ellen noticed Heather hadn’t touched her meal. On the way out, she asked Heather to join her in the powder room. Once the door was closed Ellen asked, "Alright, tell me what’s your problem."

"I found birth control pills in your purse," he replied stiffly.

Ellen shrugged indifferently. "So?"

Heather looked at her angrily. "Would you care to explain? Since I not only shoot blanks, hell I can’t even get a round in the chamber. In most cases I can’t even cock the hammer. Why would you need to worry about getting pregnant?"

"You know Heather, you really should have been a blonde. You fit the stereotype so well. For your edification, woman use oral contraceptive for other things than birth control.

Everyone knows birth control pills can keep you from getting pregnant. The pill also has other benefits. One survey found that more than half of women who take birth control pills do so for reasons other than avoiding pregnancy. They make your periods more regular. With the pill, you'll know when you'll have your period. With traditional birth control pills, you'll take three weeks of hormone-containing active pills, followed by one week of inactive pills. You'll get your period the week you switch to the inactive pills."

Heather fell all over himself apologizing for his unsounded suspicions. The ride home was a frigid one for Heather.

@ @ @ @

It had been so long since there had been any threat that everyone had let their guard down. On a foggy Sunday morning, Heather was in his minivan on the way to the grocery store to get what was needed for the evening meal. He had grown weary of the morning feminine routine he took every opportunity to skip the makeup and hair ritual. He left the house with no makeup on and his hair in a low manly position. He wore cutoff jeans with his wallet in the rear pocket, white tennis shoes and an oversized loose-fitting blouse that hid his breasts. He was as manly as he could get.

He pulled up to a stoplight and happen to glance to his right as a pickup truck pulled up next to him. The guy driving was staring intently at Heather. It made Heather uncomfortable so he looked away. When the light change Heather accelerated. Half of a block further on, Heather noticed something out her side window. It was the same vehicle, matching her speed exactly. The driver lifted a gun and pointed it at Heather. Heather stomped on the gas trying to get away just as the side window shattered. Heather ducked and lost control of the minivan as the first bullet struck him in the hip. The last thing he remembered was excruciating pain and the ear-splitting explosions of gunfire before he lost control of his car and was knocked unconscious.

CHAPTER 34 - You may not always end up where you thought you were going, but you will always end up where you were meant to be.

Ellen, Beth, and Nancy stood watch over his bed in the hospital holding hands and staring down at the shattered body of Heather who looked like a mummy covered from head to toes in bandages. Derrick walked into the room and asked, "What happened? I heard Heather had been in a car accident."

Ellen sobbed, "Not exactly. He was shot three times while driving to the grocery store."

"Who would shoot your husband?"

"The police say it was a simple case of road rage. I’m not so sure! I have to think the cartels still have him on their hit list. When we get home, I will look for Fred’s number and ask what he thinks."

Derrick saw an opening to get to his one true love back and inquired hopefully, "Will he be alright?"

"The doctors say he will live, but there was a lot of damage. The hip bone was shattered ` and it will need to be replaced. One shot was in the chest it would have been fatal except it was stopped when it hit a rib. The worst damage is in his groin area. It shredded his genitals, he’ll never be the man he once was."

Derrick, a little disappointed, asked, "Was he also shot in the face? His head is all bandaged."

"No, he ducked to avoid the gunshots, the airbags went off when he hit the abutment and it fractured all fourteen bones in the face. They will have to be rebuilt."

When visiting hours were over, the ward nurse chased everyone out.

Once she was home, Ellen got a hold of Fred. He immediately had a 24-hour armed guard stationed at Heathers room.

A few days later Ellen, Beth, and Nancy were sitting around a table in the hospital cafeteria discussing what Ellen was going to do. Heather was in a medically induced coma until Heather's injuries could be addressed. The doctors were pressing Ellen for a decision.

Beth asked, "What are your options?"

Ellen's expression was bleak.

"George’s face was basically crushed. The surgeon told me they can rebuild it anyway I want. That is where my dilemma comes in. Heather never had what you could call a pretty face. George on the other hand had a cute face, certainly not handsome. Now I have the opportunity to make her gorgeous or him handsome what do I do?"

Nancy said, "I think that depends on whether its Heather or George that leaves the hospital."

Ellen looked up from here cup of steaming coffee. "I never thought about it like that. I loved George and through no fault of his own was forced to live as Heather. God help me I love Heather too. That is my dilemma, I like having Heather around better than George. Does that make me a bad person?"

Nancy piped in, "I think it makes you bisexual."

Beth added her two cents, "Ellen, does the fact Heather also acts as your maid, nanny, and concubine influence your opinion?"

"Damn you Beth, it is impossible to separate my need for a wife from my love for my husband. I would be lying if I didn’t admit it is nice having a help mate and not just a slug of a man hanging out at home."

Nancy added, "If Heather leaves the office it will be a big loss to not only the company but to all the gals working there. She has become a friend to us all. Why the young girls go to Heather for all kinds of advice. Last week, I walked in on a group gathered around Heather, giggling while they gossiped about Jill’s boyfriend problems. Heather has become the surrogate mother to a lot of the girls. She has a wisdom well beyond her years and can bring a unique perspective to a girl with boy problems."

Now it was Beth’s turn, "I can second that. I loved my brother, but Heather is more than a relative – she’s the sister I always wanted. As a sister we are bonded by more than blood. She is fun to be with and a real confidant. Something George never was. Heather understands me."

Ellen asked for quiet as the other two were trying to talk over each other, "We are all agreed George was a dull, if a lovable guy whereas Heather is an adventurous fun-loving friend. If Heather disappears, we will all miss her. I need to think about more than what I want. What does George want out of all this? He has made it abundantly clear he had hoped to be a man again. I have the chance to remove his tits and give him a manly face what I can’t do is return his male equipment to him.

"The question that remains is would being a man with the void between his legs make him happy. Or would he feel more like a freak. It seems to me his only form of sexual release would be through gay sex. I don’t think that is what he would want. On the other hand, the doctors tell me that there is enough of his penis remaining to have the nerve endings required to create a fully functioning vagina. If we go that way, he could have penetrating intercourse and achieve a satisfying climax."

Beth said, "Hold on, that implies he would want to have sex with a man just to have a climax. Ellen, you know more about his bedroom proclivities than I. Has he or Heather for that sake shown any tendencies toward man on man sex?"

"No, quite the contrary. Heather hated it when any man showed any interest in his feminine self."

Ellen collapsed and laid her head on the table. "I don’t know what to do. I only want to do what is best for my husband. It seems whatever I do will make him miserable."

The three-woman engaged in a group hug. Ellen wept, mumbling over and over, "No matter what I do he is going to be angry with me."

Nancy came up with the first rational comment. "Ellen, hasn’t George been seeing a therapist?"

"Why yes for several years."

"Perhaps we should ask him what to do."

"That is still a brilliant idea. I have her number in my phone. I’ll call her right now."

An hour later, Ellen rejoined her friends, "Let’s go ladies. I need to find the doctor. I know what I have to do. I can only pray George will forgive me if I am wrong."

The two couldn’t wait. Riding up in the elevator, they threatened Ellen with bodily harm if she didn’t spill the beans.

"Okay. His therapist broke all kinds of ethical rules by telling me what she and Heather had discussed. As we knew after Mexico, he was really pissed about being made to live like a woman. However, once he assumed the role of homemaker, wife and mother to Ariel, his position softened. A part of him was still unhappy because he felt he was an ugly woman. His self-esteem suffered like any normal homely woman’s does. Bottom line was if we were going to make George a woman, the doctor recommends we make it one she can be proud of being."

CHAPTER 35 – Domestic bliss.

George’s first surgery was sexual reassignment. When he woke, Ellen explained what she had planned for him. She waited with bated breath for his reaction. He said nothing for over an hour. Ellen spent the time pacing in the hall. He signaled for Ellen to come in and asked her to close the door. He told Ellen that she had made the right decision. His only request was if he was going to be woman, he wants to be attractive one. He wouldn’t complain if he came out as pretty.

Elated to know that she had not guessed wrong, Ellen ran with it, playing a modern-day version of doctor Frankenstein. Even with the doctors reining Ellen in somewhat, her wife still left the hospital with enough feminine assets to get a job at the girly bar, Twin Peaks.

He was way past pretty. And had a figure to die for. As a surprise, Ellen spent a small fortune restocking his closet with nothing but fashionable dresses and his lingerie drawers with racy unmentionables.

After all her surgeries, Heather came home to recuperate. She was delighted at her new physique. The ugly duckling had become the beautiful swan. Heather spent several days resting in their large King-sized bed. When she finally felt strong enough to get up, she went into the attached bathroom to shower. Upon returning, she headed to the dresser where all her lingerie was kept. There she found a kaleidoscope of intimates in every imaginable color and style all brand new and sized to fit her new dimensions. Heather sought out Ellen to thank her for the lovely presents and thanked her several times on the living room couch.

Six months later, her body was healed and had she gone through hours of therapy with a psychiatrist and physical therapy to heal her mind and to learn how to handle her new body. It took months, but Heather was now able to walk with just a slight limp, which meant to a disappointed Heather she had to wait on wearing her stilettos.

Seeing her wife fully recovered, Ellen brought up the idea that she would go find some stud to break in Heather's new equipment. It only took a nanosecond of thought for Heather to voice a very decisive NO. In bed that night, they found Ellen’s ‘girl’s best friend’ was all she would ever need to feel like a woman.

They settled in to a happy life. The goon who shot Heather was never caught. As a result, Ellen bought a custom-made minivan with bulletproof glass for her girls' protection.

@ @ @ @

Months later Heather rejoined Ellen carpooling. Heather stepped out of Ellen’s sports car. Wearing a very classy Gucci designer dress and low heels. With a new hip she walked with a just a trace of a limp. Her figure was now a mouthwatering perfect hourglass shape 38D, 24, 38. Her face was molded after Salma Hayek with just a hint of Gorge showing through.

He had never been happier. Ellen found herself feeling jealous of Heather's youthful looks. The first time the two went out for a night on the town, Heather was hit on more than Ellen. To make matters even more frustrating, Heather got carded at the door and Ellen did not.

Chapter 36 - Now For The Rest Of The Story

Heather and Ellen had a happy life but it was far from idyllic.

The novelty of lesbian sex eventually lost its allure and their loving settled into a comfortable life of intimacies consisting mainly of hugs and lots of cuddles. Like a lot of married couples, sex was reserved for special occasions. Oral was still a major part of their lovemaking. With the addition of a strap on, sex was glorious when they felt the urge. Ellen was delighted that her strap on could give her wife an orgasm and, even on occasions, multiple orgasms. Yet as a rule Ellen never initiated sex. Heather conjectured that Ellen had reverted to her old measures of sexual satisfaction. She never confronted Ellen with her suspicions. Figuring ignorance was bliss.

Ellen’s business did well until the economic recession hit. Ellen was even forced to sell her Lamborghini. To make things worse, she had to drive the family minivan.

With a change of administrations in Washington, things picked back up. The money spigot was once more turned on. Ellen was again flush with cash.

@ @ @ @

Heather was a new woman; he always had a smile and kind word for everyone. He took the girls in the office under his wing. At times, he was more a house mother than just another employee.

The happiness was too good to last though. They had been remarried for several years when tragedy struck. Heather was diagnosed with breast cancer.

Three months later, over Heather's strenuous objections, she underwent surgery for a mastectomy of her right breast. It had taken him a life time to develop the figure every woman envied and now mother nature had played its final trick on him.

Ellen was sitting in the waiting room with Beth waiting on word about the surgery. They were both jumpy with nerves, but it was Beth who asked why it was taking so long. Finally, a nurse stepped out of the double doors that warned that only staff were allowed past and asked, "Are either of you ladies Mrs. Newman?"

Ellen jumped to her feet, "Yes I am! Is everything alright?"

As the nurse escorted her back to the recovery area, she replied, "No, I’m afraid not. We seem to be having problems waking Heather up. She is rambling incoherently about being a man and what he wants to do to his wife. It is rather disturbing to the other ladies in recovery."

Beth tried to hold it in but failed as a mild chuckle escaped her lips.

Ellen replied, "Pay Heather no mind. She is undergoing therapy for that little illusion. She thinks she was a man in a prior life."

The nurse nodded and then added, "There is some panic among the other ladies, they all have gone through a traumatic amputation and the last thing they need now is some lunatic saying someone wants to ‘pork them until they squeal.’ We will keep Heather under observation until the hallucinations subside, but will be moving her to a more private area."

They stopped partway down the corridor and the nurse looked at Ellen. "She really will not be awake for another hour or so. If you would like, you could get a cup of coffee and a bite to eat in the cafeteria? I will come and get you when Heather is awake."

Ellen returned to the waiting room and collected her sister in-law. Once the two friends were ensconced in a private booth in the cafeteria, Ellen related what the nurse had told her.

Beth frowned and said, "Correct me if I am wrong, but I thought my brother’s babymaker was permanently deflated. Why would he be dreaming about fucking a woman?"

Ellen leaned back and gave that some thought. "I can only guess. Have you ever heard about amputees having phantom pain? With all the pressure George has been under because of the cancer, maybe he is feeling a phantom penis?"

Beth commented, "Ellen, we have been over this ground before, but I have to ask. You are an attractive heathy woman. How do I put this delicately? How have you handled your carnal needs.?"

Ellen laughed loud enough to turn heads in the cafeteria. "Beth, you should know that when a wife is deprived in her bedroom there are an infinite number of ways to handle the needs of the flesh. What Heather doesn’t know can’t hurt me nor our relationship. Any little dalliances I’ve been involved in have not affected my love for Heather.

"We have bonded through this gender experiment and are very intimate, just not sexually any more. It is hard to explain. We are in love with each other. We just don’t need to make physical love to express our feelings. That is relayed through frequent touching, kissing and cuddling.

"My Heather always greets me coming home from work with a clean house, a glass of wine, a hot meal and a foot rub after dinner. What more could a woman want in life?

"At night, we cuddle and spoon and hold one another tightly as though we were the only people left in the world."

Beth was aghast. "That makes no sense to me. Sex is the cement that holds a marriage together."

Ellen smile and patted Beth on the arm in a comforting fashion. Ellen thought, ‘There were times when Beth’s lack of insight demonstrated a serious lack of thought and experience.’ Ellen went on to explain.

"Not in every case. For Heather and I, it’s more a blending of minds and spirits. We have so much in common and share similar views about what is important in life. A working penis is a nice to have, but not a must. Heather doesn't lust after sex. Approval and affection are all he requires to be satisfied, if not happy."

"What about you?"

Ellen shrugged dismissively. "At first, I was fascinated by the whole lesbian thing. It was enough for me. Whether it is was the novelty of it or the tasting of the forbidden fruit, I'm not sure. Over time, I found I am not gay, men are still my cup of tea. I found ways to feed my need and still kept my marriage together. Despite his lack of masculinity, I love my husband and want to stay with him forever."

Heather was released that evening to recover at home, with strict orders to avoid any kind of exertion. Ellen arranged round the clock nursing care at home for Heather. She recovered without a problem and the doctor insisted that the surgery be followed by a regimen of chemotherapy.

Heather suffered mightily from the treatment. As expected, he lost his appetite resulting in more weight loss. Ellen was understandably unhappy about Heather losing one of her beautiful breasts but she mourned the loss of his long, thick tresses the most. Before the dreaded chemotherapy, Heather's hair touched her firm round buttocks. Aside from trimming split ends it hadn’t been cut in years. There was nothing they enjoyed more as a couple than their nightly sessions of combing out each other’s hair, followed by sitting side by side moisturizing each other. After all a couple that moisturizes together, stays together.

Knowing that he would lose his hair, Heather proactively donated his entire crop of hair to the Locks of Love charity that was supported by the salon they frequented. The girls at the salon treated Heather like a queen. Something that should have taken a little over an hour turned into an entire day at the spa. They even promised Heather a special wig when she was ready for it.

Heather missed her hair just as much as Ellen did. They were consoled by the knowledge that it would grow back when the chemotherapy was finally discontinued.

@ @ @ @

Heather was unquestionably a happy mother to her child. She was active in all facets of her life starting with making her lunch every day and meeting her with a heathy snack when she got home from school. She was a den mother for Girl Scouts, joined the PTA, supervised homework, drove her to cheerleading practices, planned birthday parties, took her out trick & treating, and helped to pick out prom dresses.

His fondest memories concerned Ariel when she was a preteen, the days before she discovered boys. They had a standing mother-daughter date every Saturday night. Heather would make a bowl of popcorn drowned in butter. They would then snuggle up on the couch with Heather’s arms wrapped around Ariel. They ate the buttery treat and watched sappy romantic comedies.

Ariel even asked Heather to accompany her to the doctor's office for her first prescription of birth control pills. She made Heather promise not to tell Mother.

Ellen was the one who insisted on meeting Ariel’s dates before she went out. Yet it was Heather who waited up until their daughter got home. Heather would always have a cup of hot chocolate waiting when Ariel came in. The two would snuggle on the couch and talk after her return. Heather was the one to tuck Ariel into bed and kissed her goodnight. Ariel filled a void in Heather's heart.

Ariel was anything but an easy child growing up. Right from the start, she knew how to push Ellen’s buttons. Ellen became the disciplinarian in the family, but Heather was the one Ariel went to when she needed a shoulder to cry on.

Early on, the issue of Ariel having no father came up with the kids at school, she was teased and bullied about it until the school authorities got involved. Naturally Ariel asked where her father was. Ellen was the one to come up with a story. She told Ariel, ‘Her father went to Mexico as an undercover agent for the DEA and was never heard from again.’ That seemed to settle the issue for the child.

To Heather’s dismay, Derrick was around the house at least weekly. Heather once joked they should build him a wing of his own. He became a surrogate father to Ariel. He was the male figure in her life. Ariel, at Ellen’s urging, always sent Derrick a card on Father’s Day.

When Derrick was around, Ariel called him pops. When it was just the nuclear family, Ariel called Ellen Mother, Heather Mommy and Derrick her godfather as uncle.

However, when any outsider was within hearing range, Ellen insisted that Heather only be referred to as Auntie Heather, to protect her daughter from homophobia. Heather bristled at that female honorific. Ellen insisted on it, so Heather gave in and learned to live with it. Ariel found it to be just as bad. She would always roll her eyes when she had to call Heather her aunt.

Ariel’s rebelliousness got worse when she became a teenager. Everything became a fight, from her use of the cellphone, her curfew, to driving her mother’s sport car. When Ariel started dating, Ellen never approved of her boyfriends. Ariel took that as a challenge. She went out of her way to bring home the most questionable boys she could find, just to tweak Ellen.

Despite all of that, Ariel was an excellent student. She was accepted at USC, Stanford, and Vassar.

Her parents were so proud of her. Then right after graduation, she came home and announced she wasn’t going to Vassar as planned. Derrick’s unending sea stories influenced her decision on a future career. She announced she had enlisted in the Navy. The Navy offered her a commission, but Ariel turned that down as she wanted to go in as an enlisted woman.

Ellen had a nervous breakdown. She retired to her bedroom and cried for a week. She only came out the night Ariel’s friends threw her a going away party at their home.

Ariel was sent to boot camp the next week. From there she was selected to go into training for nuclear power. After schooling and training, she was stationed aboard a fast attack Los Angeles class sub. Because of Ariel’s deployment schedule, they only saw her every six months. Both Heather and Ellen suffered from empty nest syndrome. Ellen handled it by throwing herself into her work and Saturday workouts with Derrick. Heather went into yoga and meditation.

One of Ariel’s leaves corresponded with Derrick’s birthday. Like every year, a party was planned for Derrick. Ellen vetoed Heather's idea of having it at a fancy restaurant. Rather she insisted the party this time be in her home. Heather took that as another slap in the face. If that was Ellen’s decision, he was determined to make it the best damn birthday the SOB ever had.

She got up extra early and cleaned the house from stem to stern. She then turned the dining room into Birthday Party central with balloons and streamers in every corner and a side table that was piled high with gaily decorated presents. Heather posted herself at the front door, playing the perfect hostess. She greeted all the guests, took their coats, and showed them in. Throughout the evening she took drink orders and ensured everyone was served.

Once everyone had arrived and were gathered in the formal dining room, Heather hurried to the kitchen to get the cake she had spent an entire day baking and decorating. She was carrying in the cake when Ariel ran past him almost knocking the cake out of her hands. She jumped in Derrick’s lap threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek and loudly sang out, "Happy birthday daddy."

Heather put the cake down and started to go have a talk with Ariel. Ellen saw the look on her face and intercepted her. She grabbed Heather by the arm, hard enough to cause bruises, and said in her stern no nonsense voice, "This is not the time or place. This is Derrick's day, let it go!"

After the party had broken up and everyone was gone except for the birthday boy and his loving wife Nancy. Ellen retired to her room to leave clean up the hostess, Heather.

Heather, was in the kitchen behind a mountain of dirty dishes. Rising them off one at a time before stacking them in the dishwasher. Ariel skipped into the room and cheerily offered to help. They were alone in the kitchen and out of the blue Ariel said, "I love you Father."

Heather dropped the plate he was putting into the washer. "What did you say?"

She threw both arms around Heather's neck, "Yes, I called you Father. I graduated number two in my nuclear power class. I’m no dummy. I have suspected something for years. Mother's story of my father working for the government and disappearing in Mexico never rang true. If that was the case why is my father’s name left off my birth certificate?"

"Father you are fluent in Spanish; I have heard you talking to the gardeners. Could there be a connection there? I have come to believe you are the one that went to Mexico."

Patting her chest, she went on. "I don’t need a DNA test to know you are my father. I know it in my heart where it counts. I don’t understand the how’s or why’s and I don’t care. I just know I love you. When I get married you are the one, I want to walk me down the aisle."

Heather was crying so hard he couldn’t get the words out. Ariel hung on to her father providing him solace for all the years her conduct had hurt his feelings.

Ellen had just climbed into bed when her bedroom door flung open. Nancy stormed in and stood over Ellen and demanded, “Ellen who is my husband having an affair with. In my heart I am sure you know who it is; you too have been close for years. Now fess up, who is it?

Ellen turned pale, the blood all drained from her face. She tried to stall, “What makes you think he has a mistress?”

Nancy laughed. “Who said anything about a mistress? I guess the bastard had you fooled too. He is Bisexual.”

“Ellen let out her breathe she had been holding. “What makes you think that?”

“He is HIV positive. I know for sure I didn’t give it to him.”

Ellen collapsed back on her pillows trembling. “He has AIDs? Are you sure?”

“Yes, he admitted it to me, even showed me the doctors report. He claimed he has been taking steroids at the gym, and must have used a dirty needle. I've been to see a doctor already. I'm waiting to hear if he has passed it on to me."

Ellen trying to calm her nerves came back with, “The needle thing sounds plausible.”

Nancy sneered, “I had my doubts, so I snuck into his gym and broke into his locker. You will not believe what I found there. A packet of love letters from his boyfriend.”

Ellen thought thank god he didn’t keep any of my mementos. “I don’t believe it!”

“Well it's true. Being gay is not the end of the world. I could learn to live with that,” Nancy spit out. “What sent me looking for a gun was when I found out my muscular manly husband is a bottom. There was even a polaroid picture of him in a bra and panties, with full makeup. His lover has named him ‘Desiree’ isn’t that just so girlie? Throw on a robe and come downstairs. I am going to out him. I want you and your family there.”

Nancy went into the kitchen and broke up the lovefest going on there. “Hey guys, please come back in the party room. My hubby has a couple more presents to open.”

Ellen got downstairs just as Nancy handed her husband a small pink gift bag.

Derrick looked at it with a confused expression on his face.

Nancy firmly said, “Go ahead Desiree. Open it.”

Now it was Derrick's turn to turn pale. His hands began to tremble.

Nancy again directed, “Open it Desiree dear. Put it on. I am sure it’s your color.”

Derrick looked in and saw a tube of bright red lipstick. He picked it up with his fingertips like it was a poisonous snake.

Nancy was running out of patience and said, “I am not going to say it again. Put it on, nice and thick they way your lover likes it.”

At this point, Heather and Ariel walked into the room. Both were shocked to see Derrick coating his lips in the scarlet, waxy material. Ariel was flabbergasted, “What’s going on daddy?”

Nancy, turned to face the newcomers. “Desiree, do you want to explain or should I?”

Desiree sat frozen in embarrassment, so Nancy continued. “Ariel, stop with the daddy crap, from now on it would be more appropriate to call her Auntie Desiree. It seems she has changed sides from the blue team and now plays for the pink side. She also has changed positions. She no longer pitches now she plays catcher on her knees. Isn’t that right dear?”

Nancy handed her husband his last present, it was a stereotypical fetish French maid uniform.

Nancy took it out of his hands and held it up for everyone to see before announcing, “Desiree has seen her last gym day. From now on, she will be staying home dressed in her sexy uniform and taking care of our home. If not, all her old Seal friends will be getting some disturbing emails.

Once the fireworks ended and Heather had showed her guests out, Ellen ran upstairs and called her doctor to schedule a physical.

From that point on, Heather got cards from Ariel on both Mother and Father days.

THE END

A year had passed since Derrick's rather eventful birthday party.

Heather was stretched out on the sofa, enjoying a delightful glass of very expensive Merlot, when the security guard at the gate house called to inform her that there was a visitor requesting entry.

Realizing who it was, Heather ran to the front door to greet her daughter Ariel. They embraced lovingly.

“Ariel, I'm happy to see you. This is a surprise though. Why didn’t you call to let me know you were coming?”

“Mom, it was kind of last minute. As you know, I’ve spent the last year training to work with nuclear power plants. The Navy has transferred me to a boat in Rota, Spain. They gave me two weeks furlough before I have to report aboard. I thought that I would visit friends and family."

“Would you like something to drink? This Merlot is really delicious.” Heather held up her glass.

Ariel smiled at her mother. “No thanks, my tastes are more pedestrian, I’ll take a beer if you have one.”

Heather got up and went out to the kitchen. “Sure, thing dear, would you like it in a glass or just from the can?

“A glass will be fine, thanks. Then in a mischievous mannered added, “I save crushing beer cans on my forehead for nights out with my shipmates.”

Heather playfully punched her daughter in the shoulder as she handed the glass to her and asked, “Seriously, honey. What’s up?”

“You know it’s Derrick’s birthday.” Ariel began slowly.

“Yes, so what of it?” Heather shrugged. Just the thought of Derrick still left a bad taste in her mouth.

“He's still my godfather, I just wanted to wish him a happy birthday.”

Heather sighed, “Well, did you?”

Ariel nodded. “I stopped by his house and had a nice long talk with Aunt Nancy. I only had time to say hello to my godfather. He had to get to his job.”

Heather was intrigued, “What is that jerk working at now?”

Ariel smiled, not sure how to break the news to her mother. “Mom you aren’t going to believe this, I didn’t at first. Brace yourself. He’s a changed man. During the day, he stays at home and does domestic chores. In other words, he is Nancy’s maid and she rules him with an iron hand. In the evenings, he's a cocktail waitress at a bar down by the docks in San Pedro.”

Heather sat bolt upright in her chair, “You did say cocktail waitress!”

“Yes, there have been a number of changes for him over the last year. First off, Aunt Nancy made him legally change his name to Desiree.”

Heather's eyebrows conveyed her surprise at that kind of development. “Well that must have been humiliating for him.”

“Maybe. But the new name was the least of his changes. He walked in when Nancy and I were talking. I didn’t recognize him. He is now a knockout blonde with hair extensions that hang past his shoulders. I never thought of him as a blonde but with his blue eyes it really works.”

Heather inched closer to the edge of her chair wanting to hear more.

“Mom, that isn’t the half of it. As I said, he is a changed man. Nancy has had him on massive doses of female hormones since his last birthday.”

“Oh, my lord why?”

“Nancy told me it is was the only way she could be assured he didn’t start rutting again. According to her, it's working; his manly pride is now just a limp noddle. Remember all those muscles he was so proud of? Well, they softened and dissolved under an unrelenting flood of estrogen, now he is soft and supple. And then there is his chest."

Heather's upper lip curled as she said, “What about it? He always had a chiseled chest. That was his pride and joy.”

Ariel sniggered, “It still is his pride and joy, only now for a much different reason. Brace yourself, mom. Nancy thought Desiree should have a figure appropriate for his new name. She demanded if he was going to continue to live with her, he would do so as a woman and had to get breast implants.”

Heather laughed, “He always was a breast man. How large are they?”

Ariel held her hands about a foot out from her chest. “I don’t know his cup size. But think of Pamela Anderson. Mom, when he walked in, I was in shock, I stood there with my mouth hanging open. He was wearing heavy, over the top, makeup. According to Nancy, he does that so no one he knows will recognize him. In my opinion, with his massive boobs, no red-blooded man would get that far up with his eyes.

"He was dressed as a saucy wench. The bodice just barely concealed his nipples. He was walking in 5-inch stilettos. He was strolling in them better than I could do. It was rather impressive.

"Nancy told me she was proud of the way he handled them. She told me that he complained about them at first. So, to teach him a lesson, she dressed him up as a drag queen, stuffed a tampon up his ass, and drove him to the start of a gay pride parade where she dumped him off. She picked him up five miles later. He walked the entire route. She says that he learned his lesson because he has never whined again."

Heather shook her head and smiled. "I can't picture Derrick with breasts at all, let alone something like what you’re describing."

Ariel nodded in agreement. “I had to ask Nancy why she went so large and Mother, she laughed so hard her eyes watered. She finally answered by quoting an old axiom, ‘For waitresses, the bigger the tits, the bigger the tips.’ She told me Desiree is bringing home on almost $1,000 a week.”

Heather couldn’t contain her glee, “It serves the bastard right! He destroyed my marriage and ruined my life.”

“Mother, please watch the language," Ariel scolded.

Heather frowned. “Sorry dear, does that word bother you?”

Ariel smiled at her mother's expression. “No mom. I was just thinking bitch might be more appropriate.”

@ @ @ @

Heather really did not want to, but the subject of conversation had to become serious.

“Have you seen your mother?”

Ariel nodded, frowning somewhat herself. “Yes, my first stop was Ellen’s place of business.”

Heather noted that Ariel called her mother by name. That happened occasionally now. Ariel still loved her mother, but Ellen had lost a great deal of her daughter's respect and also from her employees when it came out that Ellen had been sleeping around on Heather. It showed how well-liked Heather had become when she was working there.

She told herself that she really should not care, but there was still a part of her that did. “How is she doing?”

“Emotionally, she is a mess since the divorce.” Ariel looked sad as she thought back to her mother's appearance.

Heather shrugged. “I’m sorry. But her turning up positive with HIV was the last straw. I had no choice.” The fact that Ellen's philandering had almost infected her husband turned wife was what had cost Ellen the most in the eyes of the people who knew her.

“Mom did you have to take her to the cleaners in the divorce settlement?”

“When she made the claim that my feminization was all my idea, I had no choice but to go for the throat. I got the house. She got the mortgage. I got the cars and she got to keep controlling interest in her company."

She smiled at the memory. "Her haughty attitude really pissed off the judge. He awarded me twice the alimony I was asking for. I'm set for life.”

Ariel looked at Heather reproachfully. “Mom, wasn’t selling your shares in the company to Nancy just a tad vicious?”

Heather shrugged again. This time because she really did not care. “Maybe. But Ellen still has controlling interest.”

Ariel nodded. She really did not understand the reasoning of her two mothers most of the time. This was one of them. “Yes, but just barely. Every day at work, there is a power struggle between the two of them.

"When you left, about half of the employees quit and went to work elsewhere. They just did not want to work for someone who had betrayed their friend. Ellen had a hard time overcoming their defections and it almost closed her down. She had to work 12-hour days just to get things profitable again.

“She also told me her social life is a disaster. I guess that she has bounced from one abusive relationship to the next. She told me that she even ended up in the emergency room once. She still loves you and wants to get back together. She asked me to tell you that she wants you to call her so you can talk.”

Now Heather felt completely indifferent. She shook her head as she said, “When you talk to her again, you can tell her for me, that is never going to happen.”

Ariel held her hands up as if she were fending Heather off. She had had this kind of conversation with Heather before and did not want to make her angry again.

“Alright, no pressure from me. I'm not taking sides. How is your social life these days?”

Heather suddenly took a great deal of interest in her hands.

“I've tried dating. Thought I had found a man I could grow old with. But when I revealed my past, that I was once a man, he set a land speed record getting out.”

Ariel moved closer to her mother, wanting to hug her. "I'm curious, Mom. You're an attractive, mature woman. Have you at least tried sex with a man?”

“Ariel, that is a rather personal question.” Heather took several minutes to decide how to proceed. Finally, she confessed, “To answer your question, that is a firm NO! I have looked but have not touched.

"I still haven't committed fully to the female sexual orientation, I can find a man handsome, just not sexually attractive. My sexual inclinations are still toward women. If I developed a strong relationship with a guy, I might be able to do the wifely things required. But it is not something I would look forward too."

Suddenly, Ariel was sorry she had ever broached the subject.

“Mom, this is too much information. All you need to say is you’re a lesbian. I am cool with that.”

She turned toward her mother and took her hands in her own.

"Mom, I love you and I want you to be happy. I know that you are lonely and you miss what you had with my mother," she said, looking Heather in the eye. "I have a friend that I think you would enjoy meeting and I know that she would love to get to know you."

Heather tried to pull back as she shook her head, "I don't think that would be a good idea dear. I’m not into blind dates."

Ariel held on firmly and would not let go of Heather's hands though, essentially trapping her in place. That forced the two of them to continue facing each other.

"Mom, please do this," Ariel said earnestly. "I want you to be happy and just sitting around this house is not good for you. Since you quit working at the agency, I know that you haven’t gotten out much. At least meet Linda for a drink and talk to her."

Heather could see that her daughter was not going to let this go. Even if she agreed and did not follow through, Ariel would be after her. Even if she was on her boat in Spain.

"Alright," Heather said with a sigh. "I'll meet her and talk to her. But I won't promise anything other than that." She gave her daughter a stern look to show that she meant it.

"Okay," Ariel said, smiling. "I can't ask for anything more than that. Now, I've already talked to her and she will meet you for a drink at that place you are always talking about. Jake's. That's your favorite, isn't it?”

Heather considered for a moment and nodded. "Jake's is a good place. It's usually quiet and they don't have a problem with me."

In the months between the time Heather had decided to divorce Ellen and Ellen had finally moved out of the house, Heather had spent a fair amount of time at the neighborhood restaurant. At first, it had been a way to be alone and still have people around her. People who did not try to use you. Jake or his wife were always working behind the bar. Like any good bartenders it didn’t take them long to worm her story out of her. So, they were both aware of Heather's past. They had made it their business to protect Heather from the individuals who might bother her. Over time, the small tavern had become a haven where she could go to feel liked, if not loved. She had come to think of Jake Harkness and his wife as good friends.”

Ariel bounced to her feet, pulling Heather up as well.

"You've got to get ready!" she said excitedly. "She will be there in less than two hours, so you need to get changed!"

Heather realized that she had been manipulated and that Ariel was not giving her any time to reconsider to be able to back out of this meeting. She did not want to think of it as a date.

"But--but. I need more time to get ready," she said, trying to slow Ariel down.

"Mom, you aren't fooling me at all," she said with a smile. "That's why I arranged it this way. I also remember how long you actually spend in the bathroom when you are getting ready to go out.

Ariel shook her head at her mother with a mock sad look on her face. "It shouldn’t take you more than hour to do everything a woman needs to do. If that were to become public knowledge, you make every other woman in the world look bad. Everyone knows that we take our time to build up suspense for our dates."

"Now get going, young lady!" Ariel said with a laugh as she pushed her mother in the direction of the stairs.

Seeing as she had been figuratively painted into a corner, Heather did as she was told and went to her rooms to get ready to meet her daughter's friend. She was ready to leave in the predicted hour and went back down to her daughter.

Because Jake's was designed to be a casual establishment, Heather had opted for a high-waisted dress in order to enhance the length of her legs and make her look somewhat taller than she really was. It was cut open a bit in the front to show her throat and chest. But it was designed not to display her breasts at all because that kind of dress made her uncomfortable.

Ariel was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs and watched Heather descend.

"You look nice, Mom," she said. Heather might have started out as her father, but there was very little to give that fact away. Perhaps her shoulders were wider than average or how she moved at times might be different. But only someone who was aware of Heather's past would even notice this. To everyone else, Heather was your everyday average woman. Maybe even a bit more attractive than the average woman her age.

"Thank you, dear," Heather said, trying to act like a matronly mother. "I chose these low heels in case I needed to leave the restaurant in a hurry." She was still worried about the reception she might receive from Ariel's friend and how the meeting might go.

"Don't worry so much!" her daughter scolded. "Linda is a decent person and I think the two of you will like each other. She really wanted her mother and her friend to happy. If they became friends with each other, that would wonderful.

After Heather had picked up her purse, Ariel escorted her out to the car she was renting for her stay in town. The drive to the restaurant was quick and Ariel explained that she would come back for Heather when she was ready. Her mother could just relax and not have to worry about transportation.

Ariel dropped her mother off at the entrance to the restaurant and quickly described what Linda looked like. She was supposed to be waiting at the bar for Heather.

Watching her daughter drive away, Heather again wondered why she had let Ariel talk her into this. It seemed like Ariel had been a whirlwind, sweeping in the door, making small talk, and then convincing her to meet someone for a drink. She thought about how she could get away with going home and explaining how she had chickened out.

After a few moments, she shrugged and went in. Jake's was not a large place. When she had commented on adding more tables, Jake had confided that they liked it the way it was. He and his wife were semi-retired and the tavern was more like a hobby for them. If they enlarged the place, they would actually have to work. The way things were now, they were only needed a handful of people to help run the place while Jake and his wife watched everything from behind the bar.

The tavern was more like a bistro. Heather estimated that it could handle a total of maybe a hundred people at a time. There were a dozen tables on one side of the large room and the bar dominated the other side. To make the place family friendly, there was a short wall of plants to separate patrons who were just there for the food from those who stopped in for a drink.

After an incident where Jake had to very sternly tell a boor who had been insisting that she have a drink with him, Jake had told her that he and his wife had owned a martial arts school on the other side of the city. When competition became impossible, they had sold out to a large competitor and opened this place. Jake was not worried about dealing with anyone if it became necessary. He told her that his wife, Sherry, was just as capable.

Heather stood near the entrance, looking around for Linda. Her gaze settled on a woman seated partway down the bar who was looking back at her. She could tell that this was Linda as the woman slid to her feet. She was about average height for a woman, making the two of them a match. Heather had always been bothered by the fact that Ellen seemed to tower over him in heels when he had still been George. As Heather, wearing heels had only put them close to the same height.

The two of them stood looking at each other, obviously wondering about the other. Linda was average looking in Heather's eyes. Actually, for a housewife, she was attractive. Heather wondered what she looked like without makeup. They smiled tentatively at each other, neither sure of the reception they might receive.

Heather could not help but notice that Linda's smile seemed to make her whole face light up. After everything that she had been through, she had the courage to step forward. Stopping a couple of feet from Linda, she smiled welcomingly.

"Hi. I'm Heather. Are you Linda?"

The other woman visibly relaxed at her cordial greeting and returned her smile. "Yes, I'm Linda. It's nice to meet you." She held out her hand.

The ice was broken, but they still did not know what to say or do. Jake was behind the bar and could see the problem.

"Ladies? Why don't you go over to the table in the corner and I will bring you each something to drink, is wine alright?" He smiled as he pointed.

Heather acknowledged him with a smile and nod before looking back to Linda. Linda nodded her agreement and they moved over to where they would have some privacy. Jake was at the table as they took their seats, holding a tray with the promised glasses of wine. After setting their drinks in front of them, he returned to the bar. On the way, he placed RESERVED signs on the tables near to them to ensure that no one would intrude on their conversation.

Heather watched him go and commented, "Ariel must have called him and arranged this." She smiled fondly at the thought.

"Ariel is a really good person," Linda said.

"Yes, she is," Heather agreed with a nod. "But I have to be honest, I was scared to come in here tonight."

Linda frowned at her. "Why? I mean, I guess on some level, I can understand being afraid. I never thought of myself as somebody to be scared of. I admit that I wasn't sure if meeting you was a good idea either. Ariel is good at convincing people to do things."

Heather smiled at Linda's slight rambling.

"Ariel was always good at getting her own way," she said. "I remember having to apologize to one of her high school teachers when she talked him into changing an assignment." She shook her head at the memory. "How did you meet Ariel?"

Linda swallowed and she frowned slightly, showing that she needed to build up the nerve to tell Heather about herself.

"She and I were in Nuclear Training together and we worked on several class projects. We were just friends. I was married at the time. My husband and I were both in the Navy, the same as Ariel."

She paused for a moment, troubled at the recall.

"We'd only been married for a year when I discovered that my husband wasn't the person, I thought that he was. Maybe it was the stress of the job and the training, but he started abusing me. It started out as just words, then progressed to physical abuse he would hit me at times. It got so bad that he was terrorizing me whenever I was away from class.

"Ariel knew that something was going on, but she had to really work on me to get me to tell her. After he put me in the hospital, she finally convinced me to leave him and to file charges."

Heather had started out just listening to her story and nodding, but her eyes were brimming with tears at the end. Linda's face had tears streaming down her cheeks. Heather had thought that her life had been difficult, but here was someone who had lived with something much worse.

"I'm sorry," Heather said, trying to keep from breaking down all the way. She reached out to hold Linda's hands.

Linda smiled weakly. "Thank you. My physical injuries have healed, my emotional ones not so much. I'm seeing a therapist now for the PTSD he caused. The Navy had to discharge me with a disability because of it. He is still in the brig, thank God.”

Linda took a deep breath and stared off into space for several long seconds before confessing, “The only thing that will probably be a long-term problem is that I have will probably always have an issue with men. I can be near them and deal with them in public, as long as they do not get too close. In all likelihood, I will probably never be able to be intimate with a man again."

Heather nodded. She could see why Ariel had thought that the two of them might get along. Of course, Ariel couldn't know how things would ultimately turn out.

Regardless of Linda's life experiences, that was no reason to expect that she would accepting of what Heather had been forced to become. "I don't know what Ariel told you about me," Heather began and waited on a response from Linda.

Linda nodded. "She told me that she has an interesting family. I know that she has two women she calls mother, that you are divorced."

Heather could tell by her tone of voice that she was relating things in a matter-of-fact manner, but she had no way of gauging if Linda would have an issue with her own history.

"Did she tell you anything about her father?" she asked casually.

"I did ask her about that, but she only said that her father was still a part of her life and he was a very special person. Nothing beyond that."

There were a few moments of silence as Heather digested Linda's statement. What did she say next? What would Linda's reaction be if she knew the truth? Then she realized that the decision was easy to make. If she did not tell Linda the truth now, she would find out later anyway and she would lose a friend. It was better to destroy the bridge now than to burn it behind her later.

"What would you say, if I told you I am Heathers father?”

Linda turned ashen, “What? I thought you were her mother! This makes no sense to me.”

“It’s a complicated story. Her biological mother was too busy running her business to be bothered with being the devoted mother. So, I picked up the slack. She was my child and what she needed most was a loving parent in her life. Circumstances dictated that I played the part of her mother. It turned out I have feminine maternal instincts. Despite the fact I was biologically a man, I was more a mother to her than her biological woman.

“Let me explain. I had to see a therapist at one time myself," Heather said. "Back when Ariel was born, I had some things happen to me that seriously affected me both physically and mentally."

At Linda's nod, she began telling about how she had started life as George, a DNA test would still identify Heather as a genetic male. Over time, the shell that was George had slowly been molded into the person sitting here now.

She stopped multiple times over the couple of hours she needed to relate her story to gauge Linda's reaction. She only saw Linda's encouraging nods. She did not display any of the disgust Heather feared and she just kept going.

She finally wound down and said, "So here I am. A woman who used to be a man, but I really did not want to be what I am. I admit over time that I have come to appreciate looking and acting like a woman. If you were to offer me a chance to go back to living as a man, I don’t think I would take it.

“My wife had an affair and contracted something incurable. She had already stopped sleeping with me, so she did not pass it on to me. It turns out that she was about to divorce me when she was diagnosed."

Heather sat back and took a swallow of her wine. She was prepared for Linda to bring this debacle to a close and say that she needed to leave.

Instead of standing and leaving, Linda leaned forward on the table, her arms folded under her breasts and said, "We're a fine pair." She grinned. "I'm a woman who cannot stand to be near men and you're a reluctant woman who prefers women over men.

All Heather could do was nod sadly.

Linda continued her analysis by saying, "You need a woman who is not bothered by your past and I guess I need a guy who will not cause me to have a panic attack when I look at him." She paused to watch Heather's cautious, but relieved nod. "Based upon what you have already told me, you’re just what I am looking for. A hybrid. A woman's chassis on a man's innards."

Linda was not acting as if she were repulsed and Heather felt herself relaxing. She smiled and said, "Would you like to order dinner and get to know each other even better?"

@ @ @ @

Heather put the finishing touches on her makeup and gave herself another critical scan. She hadn't been overly concerned about her appearance since the divorce, but the past couple of months after having met Linda had changed her attitude about that. She'd noticed that Linda had stepped up her game, so to speak, and she was looking very nice lately. So Heather was determined to look good as well.

She hoped that her efforts ere appreciated. The two of them had started out meeting for dinner once a week, but that had quickly become twice a week after only their second date. Ariel had been thrilled when she had been told that her mother and her best friend were dating.
@ @ @ @

The masculine instincts that Heather had thought were dead and buried had reemerged like the Phoenix bird and she had decided to actively woo and seduce Linda. The sexual tension between them was growing as well and she had decided that it was time to take things to the next level. So far all they had done was neck like teenagers.

Linda’s reaction to their smooching told her that she didn't think that Linda would be averse to going further, at least she hoped not. She finally ruled herself presentable and borderline seductive. She was wearing her sexiest lingerie, in case things went that far. All that was left was to put herself out there and see what Linda's reaction was.

The clock on her bedside table told her that she had an hour before she was meeting Linda at Jake's. The restaurant had become their favorite meeting spot, while they had enjoyed each other's company at other nightspots as well. She headed out to her car, grabbing her purse in passing. She was in a hurry as she left the main gate of the complex, so she did not notice her ex-wife's sedan that was parked along the street. Nor the fact that it pulled into traffic when she was down the block.

As she parked in Jake's smallish parking lot, she could see that Linda had already arrived, so she locked the car and hurried into the building. Linda was seated at the bar, chatting with Sherry and smiling. Linda cut a beautiful figure in a white blouse, royal blue skirt, and black three-inch heels. When she turned to look at the door and saw Heather, her face lit up with a smile.

Heather hoped that Linda's reaction meant that her appearance was acceptable. She returned Linda's smile and stepped over to the bar. The two women hugged and Heather gave Sherry a smile when they separated.

"If you ladies want to go over to your table, I'll bring your regular drinks over," Sherry said, interrupting Heather and Linda as they lovingly gazed into each other’s eyes.

They nodded to Sherry in agreement, looking to where she pointed. She was directing them to a table in the corner with a reservation sign on it. They walked over, followed by Sherry with their iced teas.

Heather felt like she could not stop smiling. Even though it had only been a few days since they had seen each other, it seemed like much longer. It's amazing how someone could become so important to you in a short period of time. Just looking at her and knowing what she wanted to be doing with Linda made Heather feel like she was vibrating.

She leaned over the table to get closer to Linda and said, "It's really good to see you."

Linda's smile was just as wide and she replied, "I feel the same way. I couldn't think of anything other than seeing you today."

Hearing Linda's admission made Heather feel the way she had when she had been George and Ellen had seduced him into going back to her apartment. But Linda and Ellen were totally different. Looking at Linda through the lens of experience, there were none of the warning signs with Linda that Heather could now identify with Ellen.

Linda was always interested in what she thought and never pushed her own attitudes and opinions onto her. They did not always agree on things, but there was mutual respect between them. Heather had sensed on more than one occasion that Linda was more concerned about Heather's desires and happiness than her own. It was awkward at time when Heather felt the same way about Linda.

They chatted about how they had spent the day as they both leaned toward each other over the table. Their hands touched often as they talked. Heather's belly felt tight and her skin seemed to have electric sparks running across it. Her nervousness translated itself into causing her leg to bounce up and down. She hadn't felt like this in all of the other times they had gotten together.

When Sherry came over to see if they wanted to order some dinner, Heather looked over to Linda and said, "Do you want to order something?"

Linda lifted an eyebrow as she returned Heather's gaze and replied, "I don't need anything right away." While she did not continue, it looked like she might have more to say.

Sherry had had years of experience at identifying flirtation and sexual innuendoes, so she knew that they would not be ordering anything more. She smiled slightly and said," If you decide you want something, give me a wave." She leaned down to Heather slightly and continued, "If you decide to leave instead, don't worry about your drinks, they're on the house." She winked at them both as she turned and walked away.

Heather and Linda looked at each other and were almost in sync as they asked each other, "Do you want to get out of here?"

In Heather’s mind she heard, ‘Let's skip dinner and head straight to dessert.’

They could see that they were thinking the same thing. Heather was halfway sure that she imagined that there was a spark between their hands when they walked to the door of the restaurant.

They were only a few steps out of the restaurant, walking hand-in-hand, when Heather's path was blocked by a tall, thin woman, Ellen. Heather had not seen her ex-wife in months and she was shocked at Ellen's appearance.

It was obvious that her illness had not been kind. She had lost weight, leaving her gaunt and her skin almost gray in color. From what Ariel had told her, Heather knew that Ellen was taking the medication regimen prescribed for those dealing with HIV. Heather knew that the drugs only held the disease at arms' length for most patients. She could only wonder what Ellen would look like if the drugs were not helping her.

While Ellen's infidelity and callous disregard of the potential dangers of sexually transmitted diseases had made Heather rather indifferent to Ellen, seeing her in this condition almost moved her to pity. However, the experience of the divorce had destroyed any feelings she might have had for Ellen.

"George!" Ellen exclaimed. "I've been trying to talk to you for weeks! You won't answer your phone! Didn't Ariel tell you I wanted to talk to you?" Even as a near-invalid, Ellen still had a rather arrogant attitude.

Heather stopped before she ran into Ellen, putting her arm out so that Linda was held back.

"Yes, Ellen," she replied. "Ariel told me that you wanted to talk. She said that you wanted to get back together. That’s not going to happen. We were over a long time ago.”

Ellen sagged back at Heather's words, looking forlorn. "Please, Heather! I don't have anyone else."

"I'm sorry, Ellen. But being married to you was not good for me. I can't be in your life again." As much as it would have been easy to twist the figurative dagger in her ex-wife's heart, she could not do it. She had never been the type of person who could behave like that. She preferred to avoid a confrontation than fight about something.

The two women stepped around Ellen and walked over to Linda's car. They moved quickly and they were seated and about to pull out by the time Ellen had rallied her strength to try to chase them. She was only able to just reach the car before it was gone and she stood in the street behind them. She looked completely defeated as she looked after them with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Ellen stood in the middle of the fast lane oblivious to the danger she was in. Linda had turned the corner and Ellen was out of sight, so they did not hear the shriek of brakes and the shouting.

Their intimate evening never happened, the confrontation with Ellen had put a damper on that. Without that sexual tension, the two were able to have an honest conversation about their future.

It wasn’t till the next day, Heather found out Ellen had been hit by a drunk driver.

* * * * *

It was a quiet group that left the cemetery. The memorial service for Ellen had been fairly well attended. All of Ellen's current staff and most of her former employees had been there to pay their respects. Derrick had been unable to be there as he had gone into hospice a month earlier and he had been given even less time than Ellen had been. Nancy was there though. Heather did not spend much time dwelling on her presence. Nancy was there to either take pleasure at the demise of the woman who had broken up her marriage or to say goodbye to a business partner.

Heather's own feelings were confused. She had been married to Ellen for years, as both man and wife, and had loved her for all of those years. Ellen's behavior had destroyed that love and replaced it with a state of acknowledgement that Ellen was the mother of their daughter. Now that Ellen was gone, Heather did not know how she should feel.

Once they were home again, Ariel brought drinks out of the kitchen to where Heather and Linda sat together on the couch. Linda was leaning up against Heather, with Heather reaching around to hold her wife. They still had a couple of months left before Linda's pregnancy became uncomfortable, but both women enjoyed the feel of Linda's swelling belly.

Their encounter with Ellen earlier in the year had galvanized them both and it was only a few weeks later that Heather got down on one knee to propose to Linda. Linda had then done the same thing the following night. The wedding had been a small, intimate affair, only a month later. Heather selected Linda’s wedding dress, while Linda picked Heather’s. They had made a conscious decision to hold off on sex so both women wore white, but waiting had been hard at times.

From where she reclined against her wife, Linda looked back at Heather and said, “I've been talking to the doctors and I have some special medication upstairs. It was designed especially for you.”

Heather frowned in confusion. “What for? I’m not sick.”

Linda smiled patiently. “No dear, it’s time those magnificent breasts of yours were used for something other than fun. We are going to put them to work. You are going to be sharing the nursing duties with me!”

Linda and Heather had talked about motherhood and how Heather envied her wife for being able to bear their child. Linda moved around so that she could look at her wife. "We're a team, dear. If we start now, you’ll be producing enough milk to help feed our son by the time he arrives.”

FIN

A NOTE REGARDING THIS STORY.

This is a fictional chronicle of a normal hardworking guy named Jack. The federal government made him an offer he couldn't refuse. All they asked was for Jack to go undercover to help the U.S. Government ensnare a terrorist.

Any resemblance of the characters depicted in the story to actual individuals is coincidental. All events are the sole responsibility of the author. None of the scenes in this story depict minors engaged in any sexual encounter.

This story has been previously posted on other sites. Ms. Laurie Satori strongly encouraged me to edit/change parts of the story. It is being posted here with a strong rewrite; some new chapters have been added. I had my BFF Monica Rose edit the material so it should be more readable. Thanks Ladies for your help. Marina 

Marina: [email protected]

Chapter 2 - A Reluctant Volunteer

"Ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country."

President John F. Kennedy

Michael Bixby seemed to have a burr up his butt and had been more of a jackass than usual. When Jack Sokolov entered the weekly Friday noon wrap-up meeting, he found Mike's office had been redecorated, the second time this year. Mike's antique desk now sat upon a raised platform. Mike stood in front of his 'I Love Me' wall and greeted all the department heads and their assistants as they entered. A row of pictures depicting his athletic accomplishments served as an accent for the glass display case filled with Michael's memorabilia. Behind his desk was a Tampa Bay game jersey, framed in glass. Jack, being a huge football fan, knew the pristine condition of the jersey was because Mike never even got into a single game.

Bixby bought his way into his current position with his signing bonus. Every one of his subordinates viewed him as an incompetent businessman. In Jack's opinion, Mike had taken too many hits to the head during his playing days. Mike owed any corporate success to his employees. He drove them relentlessly. Jack's next biggest motive to dislike Mike as a boss was that he was a total philanderer. Office gossip had it that Mike had bedded every eligible woman in the company and would fuck anything that walked on two legs.

The meeting started with Mike ranting about the company's drop in market share. He made a point of expressing his disappointment at the recent sales figures.

"Damn it people, Software R Us has been the leading supplier of computer applications in the Florida market for five years. I won't allow that to change on my watch. I don't care what it takes; we have to turn this thing around."

Mike used a pointer like a foil and repeatedly slapped the sales graph balanced on the easel next to his desk. Each smack sounded like a gunshot and made Jack flinch. Mike glared directly at Jack as he appeared to hold Jack's sales department solely responsible for the company's deteriorating numbers.

Mike paused midway through his rant and singled out, Miriam Cohen, Jack's number two. He accused her of screwing up a large reorder deal. Mike called her incompetent.

Jack couldn't take any more. Job or no job, he stepped in front of Miriam, "Boss you can yell at me all you want. But you will not berate one of my people!"

Jack was sweating profusely and felt light headed. This might cost him his job, but he had enough of this jackass.

"I'm the head of the sales department. I am responsible for everything my people do or fail to do. If you have a problem, take it up with me. Miriam worked overtime and even gave up her weekend trying to close that deal. She should be commended for her effort, not criticized. She is the best salesperson we have in the company!"

Mike was flabbergasted; no one had ever stood up to him before – certainly not in front of the entire company. Mike became red in the face, the veins in his neck popped out as his anger boiled, he moved to the edge of the platform toward Jack. His fists were balled. "Listen jerkoff, how dear you speak to me that way. I am going to kick your butt."

Jack amazed himself as he stood his ground, knees shaking and replied in a bit of a quivering voice, "Bring it on!"

Rose, Mike's executive assistant and Jack's wife interceded and walked between the two. She held her husband's hand and placed her other hand on Mike's leg and said, "Now boys behave, let's just calm down."

Turning to the assembled employees, Rose said, "Everyone, let's take a 15 minute coffee break." Glancing at her watch she continued, "Everyone reassemble hear at 20 after the hour."

With her hand still on Mike's leg she gently stroked it like she would an angry dog. "Now Mike, we've discussed your temper tantrums before. What would the board of directors think if they learned their CEO had publicly threatened to beat up one of his department heads? Now go through your breathing exercises and relax. I will get you a cup of coffee, with two sugars to sweeten you up." Turning to Jack she firmly announced, "You out in the hall!"

Jack didn't respond immediately, so Rose gave him a stern glare. "Mr. Sokolov, this is not a debate nor is it a request. As Mike's assistant, I just gave you an order. Get out in the hall and wait for me there."

Jack felt humiliated being dressed down by his wife in public, but complied and fell into the rear of the crowd funneling out the door. As Miriam passed her boss she brushed his hand and mouthed the words, 'Thank you.' Jack returned the kindness with a smile.

Rose sought out her own assistant and pulled her to the side. "Mary Beth, did you get all that?"

With a broad smile Mary Beth dropped the small hand held recorder into her purse. "Yes Ma'am, every word."

"Good, now run that up to my office and lock it in my desk drawer. I will take care of things here."

Rose waited for the crowd to disperse and went out to find her husband. She found him standing in the hall, in a defiant stance. Rose glanced both right and left to ensure they had some privacy.

"Jack what the hell was that? What were you doing, trying to bring back chivalry all on your own? Or do you and Miriam have something going?"

"Damn it, I didn't start it, Mike di…"

"Knock it off, this is not some playground. Your macho bullshit almost got you and your girlfriend fired."

"But Mike was being such a jerk."

Rose put her hand in the middle of Jack's chest and walked him backwards until he was firmly against the wall.

"Jack, get your head out of your ass. I love you with all my heart. You're possibly the best husband any woman could ask for. Hell I'd do almost anything for you, but getting fired isn't one of them. We are trying to have a baby and both of us being on unemployment is not the way to go about it. Mike's our boss, the guy who signs our paychecks. You don't have to respect the man. But you will show respect for his position. If you can't do that, you need to find another job."

"But Rose…"

Rose quickly surveyed the hall and this time she slammed Jack against the wall.

"Listen to me buster. First you will keep Miriam out of the meeting."

"Yes dear, I have already sent her a text telling her to take the rest of the day off."

"That's the first smart thing you have done today. Now you will go back in there and apologize to Mike. It had better be sincere. Remember you are doing it for us and our baby, swallow your pride. If he wants you to kiss his ass, you will pucker up and drop to your knees. You will write your initials in hickey marks across his hiney if that's what it takes."

"Jack I love you. Now if you hurry, you have a few minutes before people begin to drift back in. I have to go get that asshole some coffee."

Rose returned and handed Mike his drink. Mike smiled at Rose and picked up his pointer. Rose flipped the chart as Mike resumed his presentation.

At the end of the meeting, Mike told Jack to stay behind. "Rose, I want you to hear this too." It was apparent Mike hadn't completely gotten over the incident with Jack. Mike stood towering over his subordinate and said, "Your department's figures continue to go in the crapper. If this keeps up, Rose will be the only Sokolov working here. Do I make myself clear? Or does my secretary need to draft you a memo?"

Rose lightly touched Jacks hand to reassure him and internally seethed at the putdown and pouted. She was far more than just a secretary around here. Mike was oblivious to the drama taking place at his feet.

Jack attempted to defend himself with a discussion of the economic recession and the company's poor marketing plan.

Mike dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Look little man, excuses are like assholes. Everyone has them, and they are only good for dispensing shit. Either you start producing or clear out your desk."

Then to make matters worse, Mike bounded down from his stage, grabbed Rose, and engulfed her in a bear hug, trapping her arms between them. With his arms wrapped tightly about Rose, he lifted her five feet four inch body off the ground with practiced ease. Mike stared past Rose directly at Jack as if daring him to object. With her feet off the ground, Rose played her part and lightly fluttered them and gave a slight almost inaudible girly giggle.

Mike said to the woman trapped in his arms, "Don't worry my little Rose bud. As long as I am CEO, you will have a place alongside of me. Maybe someday you will let me to plow your field and sow my seeds in your sweet garden."

Rose turned her head towards Jack and gave him a theatrical wink and puckered her lips in a kissing manner.

The symbolism of her gesture was not lost on Jack. He still detested it when Mike treated his wife in such a possessive manner and wanted so badly to tell Mike to put his wife down. Mike made no effort to hide his attraction for Rose. Mike's flirtations and continual sexual innuendos could only be described as blatant sexual harassment.

Rather than respond, Jack smoldered in stoic silence because he desperately needed to keep his job. As usual, Rose appeared blasé about the whole thing. How could Jack object if his wife didn't seem to care? Jack and Rose had had this exchange numerous times. Jack wanted Rose to resist Mike's sexism and put that pig in his place.

Rose insisted she was not being exploited. She had fought unsuccessfully against the establishment by refusing to be a fluffy girl. Now she maintained that since she started to develop as a woman in high school she realized that by drawing attention to the fact she was an attractive woman she could get her way by using her 'sex appeal' as a tool of empowerment. As a beautiful woman, she had concluded that putting up with a chauvinist environment was the price to be paid for success in the business world.

Rose had risen from the office manager to Executive Assistant by tolerating Mike and playing the submissive, compliant subordinate. Of course, her business degree contributed significantly to her spectacular rise. Rose's favorite retort was, "It's far easier for a woman to climb the corporate ladder in a tight blouse and mini skirt than gym shoes and slacks."

On several occasions Rose had painstakingly explained to Jack. "Honey, I'm on the woman's team. Jack I know how much you respect me and my abilities. For me and most women, it's not just about business acumen; it's also about physical attractiveness. That's how the game is played. I don't try to be a guy at work. I don’t dress in masculine boring suits. I always try and show some cleavage. Yup, you heard that right. Guys like working with women they are attracted to. I always show some leg, because it’s fun to flaunt my sexuality. Jack, it is my opinion that women who dress and act like women move up the ladder faster than their male counterparts."

It was hard for Jack to argue the point as during that same five-year period, Jack's career had plateaued and he languished as Mike's whipping boy in the sales department.

What Rose kept from her husband was a major feminist plot. Using every trick in her arsenal Rose had clandestinely drawn almost every female in the company into her conspiracy. Each woman was documenting every case of sexism that they experienced/observed. At the proper time Rose planned on a coup d'état against the 'Good Old Boys.' Payback would be a bitch, and Rose had been planning hers for years. It wasn't that she didn't trust her husband, but he was still a man, so caution was called for.

Leaving the meeting, Jack was greeted by his secretary, "Chief, your 3 o'clock appointment is here. Two guys are waiting for you in your office. Some nondescript guy named Fred Phillips and a Mr. Steve Garibaldi. My lord, what a dreamboat! Not that you are interested in that sort of thing, but he sets my heart fluttering. Those chocolate brown eyes are so dreamy. They gave me their business card. They are representing an exclusive woman's clothing outlet, which they plan to open throughout Florida. They said they needed to talk to you about getting a large quantity discount. I didn't know we gave such a thing."

"Thanks Tiffany, we don't. I've no idea where anyone would get the impression we could afford to give anyone a discount. I'm headed to my office right now. I'll talk to these guys." Jack glanced at his watch. "There is no need for you to wait around, take an early Friday."

"Boss, you can't stop me, I will chain myself to your door if I have too," she looked at Jack with a fake pleading expression. "Steve is not getting away without my phone number."

Jack gave her a grin in response and said, "Tiffany, I only ask that you not molest the guy on company property."

She kept the teasing and asked, "All right boss, just one question, is the parking lot considered company property?"

Jack smiled at his flirtatious secretary and said, "Back off Tiffany, I will make it a point to get his cell phone number and pass it on to you on Monday. I promise."

@ @ @ @

Thirty minutes later the three men, shadowed by a love sick Tiffany headed to the parking lot.

Jack turned to his secretary and said, "I am taking Steve and Fred out for a drink so we can continue to talk business. Please call my wife and tell her I am going to be late."

Tiffany unable to take her eyes off Steve immediately volunteered to join the trio and take notes.

Steve, always the player, gave Tiffany a big hug and a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Sorry Tiff this is a guy's only club. A delicate flower like you would be very uncomfortable. I am sure you understand." A heartbroken Tiffany slipped Steve her phone number on a yellow Post-em note; it had a heart drawn under her number and a lipstick kiss in the middle.

@ @ @ @

Steve took charge and drove to his favorite adult entertainment hangout, Lusty Ladies Bush Club. Steve parked the car and led his companions into the noisy nightclub. Steve maneuvered his way through a crowd of drunken patrons, past the stage occupied by a middling looking stripper doing the bump and grind to Rod Stewart's Hot Legs. Finally, the trio arrived at a quiet table in the rear.

Their waitress arrived almost immediately. She was an extremely tall, broad shouldered busty blond, well over 6 feet in her heels. She started to take their order. Suddenly she stopped when she recognized Steve. She squealed in delight and gave him a playful kiss on the lips.

Steve, conducted the introductions, "Fellows this is Bubbles, she has the largest Ta-Tas in the club, don't you babe? Bubbles these are my friends, Fred and Jack. Take good care of them." Bubbles in turn gave each of them a lingering hug. Jack was extremely uncomfortable during his embrace. Being only five- five, Jack's face ended up nestled in Bubbles ample cleavage. After Bubbles let Jack go, the aroma of her perfume lingered.

Steve ordered a pitcher of beer for him and Fred. Jack attempted to order a soft drink; Steve would have none of it. With a clandestine node and wink, he told Bubbles to bring a 'special' appletini for Jack.

Once the drinks were served, Steve got right down to business. He identified themselves as HLS agents and apologized for the deception. He explained that he and Fred needed to talk to Jack away from the office. Steve launched into the reason they wanted to speak to him and gave a brief description of the mission, while avoiding names and places. Steve tried to appeal to Jack's patriotism and talked about this evil Russian villain and his threat to the American way of life. "The guy is a member of the Russian mob, a mass murderer and is trying to team up with Al-Qaida to attack our country."

Jack sipped his drink as Steve and Fred tagged teamed a discussion about the terrorist's criminal track record. Jack nodded his head in approval of the need to rid the world of this wicked man. He was bewildered though and wondered how all this concerned him. A confused Jack interrupted Steve's dialogue and questioned, "How can I help? This seems more like a job for the Marines than a skinny computer software salesman."

That is where Steve's plan started to crumble. Steve discussed the terrorist fascination with transvestites. Jack started to squirm in his chair. Because of his frail frame, Jack had been bullied and teased his whole life about being less than manly. How could his government ask him to surrender his dignity and pretend to be faggot? Jack tried to rise out of his chair, but Steve grabbed his arm and yanked Jack back down. Jack with slightly slurred speech refused to consider going undercover in drag. "I may be a bit scrawny, but I am all man and I will fight anyone who says different!"

"At ease tiger, no one is questioning your manhood," Steve said, getting Jack to relax again. "All we are asking is a little thing. You dress up all pretty like, act sociable towards this terrorist, and do a little playacting."

Jack chuckled, "Maybe to you putting on panties, bra and a dress is a little thing, but for me it would be a major nightmare."

Steve saw he was losing ground so he switched tactics and tried to bribe Jack with the prospect of a huge government contract.

Jack openly scoffed at the offer, "You want me to give up my manhood to help my company? Not in this life time!"

Steve's next gambit was to threaten Jack with an IRS investigation. Jack smugly proclaimed "There was no way; I would rather go to jail than be some sissy spy."

Steve grabbed Jack by the shoulders and shook him, "Listen to me. You are going to work for us. We can do this the hard way and force you or you can become an official volunteer. IRS will run you and your wife through the ringer. Jail time is a very real possibility for both of you. You may be tough enough for prison, but how will your cute little wife handle it?"

Jack sat up straight and looked at the government agents as he announced, "I'll probably end up being some guys bitch bride; but hell, I bet within six months Rose will be running the joint."

On the verge of openly sniveling, Jack tried one last time to stand up for himself, "Agent Garibaldi. You're the government, that's not fair. You can't do that. We'll hire the best tax lawyers and fight you!"

Steve laughed and playfully punched Fred in the arm. "Buddy, can you believe this guy?" At this point, an exasperated Steve said, "Sorry, I didn't want to go this way, but you are forcing my hand." He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a large professionally done brochure titled, Greek Fraternity Recruitment. He slid it across the table to Jack.

In a commanding voice, Steve ordered, "Open to page 24!"

A curious Jack complied and found a glossy photo of someone who resembled himself in an evening gown posing with a handsome man in a tux. The caption at the bottom of the page, made Jack go lightheaded; 'Two new pledges on their way to a Tau Iota Tau fraternity Turnabout Party.' Depicted is the beautiful and titillating Jack Sokolov wearing a chic red taffeta prom dress. He is escorted by his handsome boyfriend and fellow pledge, Kris Friedman.

Jack threw back the rest of his drink and gaped at the photo. The drink hit him hard; he couldn't focus. "That's not me!" Jack shook his head; I never tried to join any fraternity. "Where? How did you get that photo?"

Steve dropped the hammer. "Well if that isn't you, you must have an identical twin sister!"

Jack shrugged his shoulders so Steve took it to the next level. He threatened to show the photo to Rose and to circulate the picture to the entire contact list on his company computer. "I will post all those fraternity pictures on your Facebook page. We will let everyone decide if it's you or not."

Jack was openly quivering at the prospect, but remained defiant saying "No one will believe that is me! Besides, I don't have a Facebook page."

"You do now! Do you want to know what's on it?"

Steve took out eight Polaroid photos from his pocket and dealt then out across the table like he was dealing a poker hand. "With just the one photo you may be right, but take a look at these. They show the same woman in the glossy picture. This time it depicted her on her knees, sucking her date's cock.

Steve said, "Being five year-old Polaroid pictures, they are a little faded and blurred but the face of the cocksucker sure looks a lot like you. My favorite is the last one. The quality is particularly clear. A close up face shot of a disheveled, girl reapplying her lipstick."

At this point Jack embarrassed himself and started to cry, "But those really aren't me!"

At which Steve laughed, "Listen Jackie, reality has nothing to do with it. It's perception that counts. If you turn us down, the world, including your wife, is going to think you are a cock sucking cross dresser."

Steve's voice hardened. "Let me put all my cards on the table. The government has a lot at stake in this operation. So just accept that one way or another you are going to get fucked. If the IRS screwing you doesn't terrify you, think of this. I had Bubbles slip a half of a roofie in your drink. It won't knock you out but you won't be able to resist. The best part is that you will remember every minute, of what I promise will be a very long night for you. With one word from me, my friend Bubbles will take you back to his place and with the help of a bottle of little blue pills, he will spend the whole night fucking your virgin ass. The best part is it will all be live on webcam. You will be the latest YouTube sensation. I bet we get 1 million hits by tomorrow." Steve looked into Jack's glassy eyes. "Or you can avoid all that trouble and just say yes."

A defeated Jack shook his head yes and said, "I'll do it, but I know I'll regret it."

Fred piped in, "Jack you know what they say about regret? You only regret the things in life you don't do, not the things you do."

The next thing Jack knew he awoke seated in the driver's seat of his car, parked in his driveway. Rose pounded on the window and demanded to know where he had been to all hours of the night. Getting out of the car, Jack found the IRS audit announcement clutched tightly in his left hand.

With Rose's help an inebriated and incoherent Jack stumbled to bed where he passed out for the next 12 hours.

@ @ @ @

On the drive home Steve fumed, "Can you believe that guy? At first, he wouldn't even consider our proposal, what an unpatriotic schmuck."

Fred blithely commented, "Yeah mister patriot. I don't hear you volunteering. We know how cute you can be in a dress and heels."

"You asshole I owe you big time for your little practical joke, but don't knock something if you haven't tried it."

"Steve, WTF does that mean?"

"Relax. We really screwed up just throwing that concept of becoming a female impersonator at him, hoping he would jump at the idea out of patriotic fervor. I hated to use blackmail. Willing agents are much better assets than ones we have to coerce. Those guys in Documents did a fantastic job on faking the photos. Between the alcohol and drugs, at the end poor Jack wasn't sure if that was him or not. I love it when a plan comes together. Wild Bully is going to love this." Steve slowed the car down as the intersection lights changed to red. "Now first thing in the morning we need to get his wife to join us in our little battle plan."

"Please explain to me how we are going to do that."

"We follow SOP, the same way we got the hubby to sign on. We start with gentle persuasion, if that fails, we move into intimidation, and as a last resort, we employ blackmail. You know standard government procedures." The light changed and Steve stepped on the accelerator. "Yep, watch and listen, you are dealing with the master. It's called planning ahead." He glanced at his palm pilot, "Mrs. Sokolov has a 6:00 AM gym appointment. We'll be waiting at her front door when she returns."

At 6:15 the two agents were cooling their heels on the Sokolov's front portico.

Steve and Fred put their game faces on, prepared to face the wife, anticipating reluctance if not a major battle. After all, how many wives are prepared to have their husbands feminized, and then disappear for an unspecified period of time to live in the nether world as a half-man half-woman?

Standing outside Rose's front door, Steve gave Fred a pep talk. "Come on partner, Rose is a typical type 'A' personality, an ambitious, driven overachiever. There is no way she is satisfied with her current standard of living. We will have her on our payroll by dinner. Trust me. All we have to do is convince her to agree to let her husband come work for us. Once she buys in on that we just persuade her to help us in the transition of him into a submissive transvestite."

The two recognized the beautiful woman with long red hair as she bound up to her front door. As a natural athlete, Rose worked hard to maintain her toned body. She found a way to get to the corporate gymnasium daily.

A flushed and slightly clammy Rose approached her front door and spied the two strangers. Cautiously Rose asked, "May, I help you?"

The two flashed their badges as Steve said, "Hi Mrs. Sokolov, we are federal agents; we're involved in a major criminal investigation and need your help."

Rose's expression of suspicion turned to one of interest.

Steve intently stared into her green eyes. Without breaking eye contact he said, "This is my partner Fred Phillips, and I am Steven Garibaldi." When Rose extended her arm to shake hands, Steve, in an intimate gesture, first rested his left hand on Rose's right wrist before gently grasping her hand. There was no hand pump, rather the two just held hands and locked stares. Steve turned on the charm. Closing the space between the two, he smiled and asked, "May, I call you Rose?"

Rose demurely smiled and replied, "That would be delightful Steve."

Fred half expected Steve to bring this woman's hand up and kiss it. After an uncomfortable 30 seconds, Fred wasn't sure what to do as these strangers stood frozen. Neither showed any indication of breaking the handhold. Fred, coughed once, stuck his hand out and said, "Glad to meet you Rose. I'm Fred."

Steve shot his partner a dirty glance and released Rose's hand.

Rose switched her keys to her right hand and reached to unlock the front door. Steve snatched the keys from her hand and gallantly said, "Please allow me."

Rose invited the two into the living room and inquired, "Would you gentleman like some coffee?"

Both said yes, Steve immediately volunteered to assist and accompanied Rose into the kitchen to help.

In their absence, Fred surveyed the room and mentally logged the fact the furnishings were new but motel quality. Fred sat on the couch, positioned his briefcase on the floor and took out his iPhone. He took a few photos of the room and keyed in a few accompanying notes.

The two returned and Fred was surprised that Steve was the one serving the coffee, not Rose. Once his duties were complete, Steve sat next to Fred and across from Rose. The two agents again tag teamed in a description of the Russian terrorist criminal's past and his impending threat to the USA. Rose sat and intently listened to their sales pitch.

"Rose, according to your dossier you are a secretary for a Mister Michael Bixby at Software R Us."

"I'm Mike's administrative assistant."
"You call your boss by his first name?"
"Why yes I do all sorts of things all the time, solve all kinds of problems for him, and it can get pretty informal sometimes. Why is the important?"
Steve scribbled furiously in his notebook. Looked up at Rose and said, "It's just interesting."

"Your file clearly indicates your family has sacrificed more than most. Your father died in a tragic training accident while in the Navy, your mother passed away from a bug she caught while in the Peace Corps, then your brother was killed on 9-11, working in the Pentagon.
But we are here to ask you for one more sacrifice."

Rose tried to hide her glee at the prospect of getting payback for her brother. She forced herself to respond in a monotone. "Steve, as the good book says – ask and ye shall receive. Just tell me what you want!"

Both agents were good at reading body language and could tell that even though they hadn't explained what they needed, Rose was on the verge of being a full participant.

Rose interrupted the rehearsed sales pitch and said, "Come on guys, let's leave out the entire Doctor Zhivago dissertation, and just skip to the Cliffs Notes version. I'm a busy woman, who has a lot to do. I've a house to clean and a passed out husband upstairs that reeks of alcohol and cheap perfume. His explanation could take a large chunk out of my day."

Steve jumped in, "Please don't be too hard on Jack. He was with us last night."

"Oh…that's interesting and just what kind of mischief did you three get into?"

"We were trying to get his cooperation in entrapping this really bad Russian terrorist."

A disappointed Rose said, "His cooperation, I thought you wanted my help!"

As Steve went into detail on what was needed from her. Rose, like her husband, squirmed in her seat. However, unlike Jack's uneasiness, Rose's reaction was one of anticipation. Her biological responses threatened to betray her. Her life with Jack had been magical. He adored her and treated her like a Queen, however she was never able to find a way to get him to play in her feminization game. This was the one thing that dominated her sexual fantasies. The thought of her hubby in frocks and frillies made her twat tingle. Her panties became damp. Rose fought hard to maintain her poker face as the agents described her role in the transformation of her husband into a sissified dandy boy.

Rose listened to the outline of the government plan. During the presentation, Rose indulged herself in past reminiscences and reflected back to the events in her life that led here to this point. The night she forcefully feminized a boyfriend, then kicked him out of her apartment in full drag when he wouldn't play along. Then there was the torrid lesbian sexathon affair she had with her sorority sisters. They were very fond, but still vivid memories and formed the bases for her current bedroom fantasies.

'Well they have their game plan, and I have mine,' thought Rose. 'This is like Christmas in July. I can achieve my lifelong fantasy and get the government to pay for it. When I get done, Jack will be my trophy wife; I'll do everything possible to ensure he is happy in that role. The best part is he will do it all in the name of patriotism.'

The longer Rose listened, the more she realized these men had skillfully moved her from persuasion into negotiations.

"I understand why Jack was selected for this mission. I'm sold, but getting Jack to completely cooperate might not be so easy. He's not exactly an alpha male, but he has never shown any inclinations to being swishy. How do you suggest I convince him?"

"The same way you persuade him to do anything. Ask nicely, be prepared to compromise, and offer something in return. I don't want to get too personal, but you could threaten to withhold sex. I've heard that is a very powerful bargaining chip."

"You guys don't know Jack. It'll take more than that to get him into a dress. I dated a lot of swaggering macho jerks, he may not have the muscles to prove it, but believe me Jack is more of a man than any of them."

Steve smiled in a self-satisfied manner. I think I can help you." He retrieved the packet of pictures from the briefcase and handed them to Rose. "We can help you! Threaten to distribute those if it comes to that."

Rose quickly scanned the photographs. In dismay she uttered, "Oh my God, I had no idea." After a second more meticulous examination of the damning photographs, she discovered the game these government gangsters were playing. She quickly switched her role from the indigent spouse to an infatuated lovesick adolescent. The remaining time, she flirted with Steve, and tried to bewitch him. She sat up straight and pointed her headlights directly at Steve. She regularly flicked her hair, and frequently would moisten her lips with her tongue. Rose never broke eye contact and stared longingly into Steve's eyes. She made it a point to ignore the cold fish Fred.

As the endgame approached, Steve informed Rose that time was essential. Jack's conversion must start immediately. They explained her role was to ensure her husband's full cooperation. Then she would be asked to mold him into a pretty submissive transvestite.

The most challenging element for Rose would be the way she would establish Jack's full allegiance and establish his cover story. It was emphasized to her; Jack's coming out needed to be public and as humiliating as possible. She must slowly unveil Jack as a transvestite to his coworkers.

Once he was pushed out of the closet, the government would complete his training and prepare him for active service. Rose saw an opening; she played all sad and cozied up to Steve. She held the Polaroid's in her hand and waved them at Steve. She babbled, "I understand why my faggot husband was selected for this mission. However, I don't have any extra cash to get the things I will need. Can you help me there?"

Steve almost tripped rushing a pile of cash over to Rose.

After counting $900, Rose batted her eyes at Steve and said in a disappointed voice, "I guess that will have to do for now. Nevertheless I am also going to require a significant slush fund to pay for his training and new wardrobe. Will that be a problem?"

Steve promised more money would be available after the paperwork was completed.

Rose stood to usher her new acquaintances to the door, unnoticed by all was the wet stain on Rose's cushion. Steve hugged Rose goodbye and promised to see her again to work out the details. Rose kissed Steve on the cheek and whispered into his ear, "Next time, Sugar, leave your Barney Fife deputy at home."

The two HLS agents were entering their car. "My God, that was easy. She volunteered her husband on the spot, all we had to do was agree to reimburse her for the costs of his preparation and guarantee her a stipend for the time her husband was away working undercover for us."

Steve started straight ahead and inquired, "How the hell did such a loser end up with a woman like that?"

"Good question. I did some inquires and the psych department told me, they think she's a very manipulative individual and needed someone she could emotionally dominate. She found a man who would support and submit to her will, day in and day out. They also believe marrying an effeminate man, is a socially acceptable way around her dominant lesbian tendencies."

"I do think she played you there a little," Fred said with a smirk on his face. "You spent more time staring at her chest than negotiating."

"What are you talking about? In my opinion, a stipend in the salary range of a GS 11 was excessive. It' is way more than her husband has ever made. Plus that million-dollar life insurance policy is exorbitant and what was that cash advance you gave her? I didn't even know we could do that sort of thing."

"Shut the hell up! Don't get your knickers in a knot. It was only a few hundred dollars. Hell I would have advanced her the money out of my own pocket if that's what it would have taken. Luckily, in this case Bill authorized me $1,000, from the contingency fund."

"But you only gave her $900."

"Yeah, let's celebrate and stop for a steak dinner on the way home. We'll consider it Bill's treat. We accomplished our mission. No one, certainly not the government, is going to squabble over a few thousand dollars. I know how to handle those bureaucrats. We will just charge it all to training. Anything under 5 figures will never even be noticed."

A look of incredulity was etched in Fred's face. Due to the huge US government debt, America had lost its triple-A credit rating. Government spending on national security had skyrocketed since 9-11. Fred just shook his head in disbelief at how carelessly Steve threw around taxpayers' money.

"Moreover, that poor woman deserves some security,"

Steve continued. "Remember, whatever happens to her husband, it is merely collateral damage. His potential loss is well within acceptable parameters, provided we accomplish our mission. Besides if all goes as planned and his cover stands up to scrutiny, what Mrs. Sokolov gets back will never be her husband again."

Steve paused and looked into Fred's baby blues for a moment. "The likelihood is that whoever returns will be closer to a she than a he. When we drag him out of the closet, it has to be brutal, public and real. The shrinks tell us there is a good chance we will psychologically scar the guy for life. But that is a chance I am willing to take. After all, what's one person compared to the good of the country?"

"That's all fine. We got his wife to agree. However, remember his drug induced agreement with us was less than enthusiastic."

"Look, I'm an excellent judge of character. I tell you his wife will not only get Jack to freely volunteer; she will have him in a bra and panties before we get back to the office. Besides, I had the head shrinks back at the office work up a complete psychological perspective on Rose Sokolov; I'll work her like a master puppeteer. Yeah, Fred, this is going to look great on my resume." Steve looked lost in thought for a moment. "The only weakness in this whole plan is how fast Mrs. Sokolov can break her husband."

"Break him, what do you mean?"

"I mean she has to destroy his self-esteem, get him to question his very manhood. When Jack looks into the mirror, he must not see himself as a husband or even as a man. When that happens, we can turn the wimp over to Linda our professional dominatrix for his complete sissification."

Fred was bewildered. "I thought we just wanted him to act like a transvestite and eavesdrop on Vladimir."

"Hell no, Jack will become Vladimir's girlfriend, his soul mate. When I said we were going to get into his inner circle, I meant all the way in."

Fred still had his reservations. If Steve's plan didn't work out, both of the agents could end up in the American equivalent of exile to Siberia--Alaskan border patrol.

From out of the blue Fred asked, "What do you think the Aleutians are like this time of the year?"

Steve looked at his partner with a quizzical expression and said, "You need professional help. I will arrange a private meeting with the wife in a couple of days; at that time, I will read her into the full battle plan. We need a nice secluded location where we can rendezvous. Maybe even some place romantic. It has to be somewhere isolated where neither of us will be recognized. I will take care of that. You get the paperwork started."

Fred wondered if there was some ulterior motive on Steve's part. Could he be romantically attracted to Rose? Steve being a married man, Fred was almost positive Steve would be professional in his dealings with Rose.

A NOTE REGARDING THIS STORY.

This is a fictional chronicle of a normal hardworking guy named Jack. The federal government made him an offer he couldn't refuse. All they asked was for Jack to go undercover to help the U.S. Government ensnare a terrorist.
Any resemblance of the characters depicted in the story to actual individuals is coincidental. All events are the sole responsibility of the author. None of the scenes in this story depict minors engaged in any sexual encounter.
This story has been previously posted on other sites. It is being posted here with a strong rewrite; some new chapters have been added. I had my BFF Monica Rose edit the material so it should be more readable. Marina

Marina: [email protected]

@ @ @ @

Chapter 3 – Unenthusiastic Commitment

The difference between involvement and commitment is like ham and eggs. The chicken is involved; the pig is committed.

Despite Jack's hangover, Rose forced him out of bed. Not a word was said about the previous night's activities. It was still the weekend and there were chores to get accomplished. Jack and Rose spent most weekends around their two-story suburban home doing typical household tasks.

Together the couple cleaned their modest three-bedroom home. Jack took sole responsibility for the basement den, which Rose called the dungeon. He also cleaned the entire main floor, to include the living room, guest powder room, the kitchen, and laundry room. Rose concentrated on the top floor with its master-bedroom suite.

She straightened the home office, and took special care as she dusted their family pictorial shrine. Her father and brother, a generation apart, both proudly displayed in their military uniforms. Her mother, a Peace Corps volunteer, was depicted smiling in some unknown village in southwest Asia. Jack's lone family portrait was a clan gathering around a Christmas tree in his native Russia. Rose finished her chore with a melancholy heart and then cheerfully dusted her Barbie collection in its glass and mahogany display case. When she finished, Rose spent several seconds staring at her prized collectable, her handmade, Malibu Kendra. As an afterthought, Rose touched up the guest room and bathroom.

It was a typical weekend with one anomaly, today Rose insisted on shopping by herself. A chore the couple normally performed together. Rose drove off on her mysterious shopping spree in their five-year-old Honda. Jack was left to clean their one-car garage. After that chore was done he took a nap on their divan. He was asleep when he was awakened by the sound of someone upstairs. Rose had returned from her shopping trip and was upstairs putting away her purchases.
She seemed in an extremely cheery mood, that evening. Jack grilled a pork roast and she prepared baked potatoes and a green salad. It was an early night; the couple fell asleep watching SNL on the bedroom flat screen TV.

Sunday morning was dedicated to gardening. While Jack mowed the lawn under the shade of the large gardenia bushes, Rose tended to her roses, begonias, violets, lilies and backyard vegetables. Her green thumb and hard work had turned her garden into the pride of the neighborhood - a horticultural showplace. Someday, the young couple hoped, they'd be able to start a family and make this house a home.

In the heat of the Florida afternoon sun, Jack and Rose retreated indoors. They enjoyed a delightful garden salad prepared by Rose. Jack, well supplied with his favorite iced tea, watched a ball game on the wide screen HD TV, while Rose surfed on the internet. Sunday was always movie night. The couple cuddled together, watched Steel Magnolias, ate popcorn and just relaxed, comfortable in each other's company. Sunday night they made long slow love. Rose used every trick she had learned over the years to ensure Jack's night was a memorable one. She did love him and wanted him to know it as he went through his upcoming crucible.

Monday morning was different and about to bring an earth-shattering transformation to Jack's life. As the volume on the clock radio got progressively louder, Jack opened his eyes to find a totally nude Rose staring at him with a dazzling smile. She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, catching Jack by surprise. She whispered, "Good morning sleepy head. Get up, let's go rustle up some breakfast."

Jack glanced at the clock display. The red LED numbers said 8:00 am. Jack in a panic threw off the sheets and sprang out of bed. "Is that the right time? We're going to be late for work!"

Rose calmly strolled to retrieve her robe from the chair in front of her antique vanity, a hand-me-down from her mother. "Relax, I called the office and have taken the day off for both of us. We need to have a talk."

Jack was mystified. Rose and he had never done something like this before.

Jack, lost in thought, headed toward the bathroom for his normal morning ablutions wearing only his underpants. He stumbled over the pants he had thrown in the direction of the wicker hamper the night before.

Rose chastised her husband, "We don't live in a landfill, please pick up after yourself."

Just as Jack reached the bathroom door, Rose used her supervisor voice and froze him with the words, "Skip your shower. We have the day off, and I need to talk to you right now! And for God's sake put the toilet seat down when you're finished, if I fall in one more time you'll be sorry!"

Jack relieved himself and glanced nonchalantly into the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door and checked his face. He ran his hand over his chin and thought, 'I really don't need to shave every day.' He searched for his bathrobe that normally hung in their large walk-in closet, but was unable to find it. Rose grabbed his hand and led him downstairs to the kitchen.

The bright Florida sun shone through the large double window over the sink. Rose poured two glasses of orange juice as Jack prepared a light breakfast of toast and coffee. As he waited for the coffee to perk, he gazed out to their secluded backyard. It was ringed on three sides by thick, dense gardenia bushes. Jack thought, 'That's the reason we bought this house. It's a yard made for kids.' His thoughts were interrupted when the toast popped.

Their normal weekday breakfast was eaten more as a drive by, as Rose and Jack gulped their breakfast seated at the Formica counter on their wood barstools. Every time Jack looked at the stools, it saddened him, because of the added cost they had to pass on the upholstered ones he wanted. Today Rose was in a more leisurely mood and lounged at the small two-person kitchen table, where she sipped her morning orange juice. Jack could see from her expression that she had something big on her mind. He wondered if his Friday night escapade might have something to do with it. He placed the light meal on the table along with cutlery, the sugar bowl and a tub of margarine.

Jack slid into the chair across from his wife and buttered his toast. He sensed something was awry. His normal chatty wife seemed subdued. What he failed to notice was her sleight of hand, as she casually dropped a valium tablet into his coffee as she reached for the sugar bowl.

Pulling her hand back, Rose smugly thought, 'He's going to require that and maybe a few more before this is over. By the time he figures out what is going on, it will be a fait accompli.'

Rose took a deep breath and became animated, her shoulder length red mane flapped about as she bobbed her head. Her words came out rat-a-tat-tat sixty miles an hour. "I had a visit from two government agents - a Phillips and Garibaldi. What they told me was disturbing. I waited all weekend for you to mention they contacted you. They were the ones you were with on Friday night. My God Jack what were you thinking, taking prospective clients to a strip club?"

Jack had a concerned look.

Rose noticed and commented, "What? You didn't think I'd find out? You come home late, smelling of alcohol and cheap perfume, and I'm just going to ignore it. You know me better than that. I called and had a long talk with Tiffany, and she gave you up in a heartbeat. We girls stick together.

"That was bad enough; but then I find out you refused to volunteer to help our nation fight terrorism. How could you not leap at the opportunity to support your country? They told me the government has thrown a ton of man-hours at this case. The whole thing can crumple because of you. I'm sadly disappointed by your actions. I need to understand what you were thinking!"

Jack felt his pulse beating in his temples. With a sense of impending doom, Jack sat in the hardback chair, wearing only his underpants, and munched on toast. Jack listened as his wife articulated all the reasons he should have immediately volunteered. Rose played Jack like a violin. She sat across from him at the table in only her silk dressing gown. She hadn't bothered to tie the robe. Every time Rose made a point, she tossed her hair and leaned forward and let her robe fall open, shamelessly displaying her generous bosom.

"I want you to change your mind and volunteer!"

Jack slumped in his chair. He felt he had been gut punched. He couldn't breathe. His blood raced so fast he could've entered it in the Daytona 500. Rose had the energy and enthusiasm of a Labrador puppy and the tenacity and determination of a Rottweiler. Jack knew he was in for a long morning.

Despite her best efforts to distract him, Jack concentrated on the issue at hand. He slowly dragged his eyes away from his semi-clothed wife and glanced out the window. He took a chance and responded with a scowl, "No way Rose. Their plan was idiotic. My lord, they want me to prance around like some Nancy boy. It would be unbelievably embarrassing. More to the point, it could be really dangerous. I'm never going out there risking my life while wearing a dress and that is my final answer!"

With a smile, Rose responded in a mischievous tone, "Oh, Jack, never say never!" Reaching into the kitchen drawer Rose retrieved a package of photographs. She arranged the photo gallery across the table and said, "For someone who is never going to wear a dress. How do you explain these? Ooh-la-la, look at that gorgeous gown. Sometimes a girl just likes to show off. You have been a very bad boy and kept so much about yourself hidden. Now it's all out in the open."

Jack had an emotional tsunami. He felt like he had been trapped in an elevator with an eight hundred-pound gorilla. He started to blubber. His tears flowed down his cheeks and dripped onto the table. "I…I swear that's not me. Please you've got to believe me."

Rose laughed at her husband's reaction, a laughter that was devoid of humor. Pushing the picture of the girl sucking a cock toward Jack she continued to torment him. "Aww, don't cry princess. Look closely, in this picture the only tears I see are ones of joy. It makes my heart ache to see you sad."

She maliciously let him stew in his self-pity. She dabbed up his salty tears from the glossy booklet with the sleeve of her robe and scolded her husband. "Damn it, you are going to spoil your prom picture. I'm going to have it framed. Now buck up. What has happened to my red-blooded Viking? Don't tell me, you are so insecure in your manhood that a little thing like a ball gown challenges it. My heavens, those Homeland Security agents only want you to make friends with some terrorist and play chess in a smock, heels and makeup. You haven't the balls to wear a dress? That's not the man I married."

Rose reached across the table and held his trembling hands. They were like ice. Jack, a broken man, sat with a frown creased forehead and pleaded. "Please believe me, I can't explain them, but those aren't me in the pictures."

Tiring of her little game, Rose said, "Oh Jack, of course it's not you. I'll admit they are good forgeries. Look at the last photo, the one Steve is so proud of, with 'you' touching up your lips. What hand is the girl using to hold the lipstick tube? The last time I looked you are left-handed, while the photo clearly shows the girl is using her right hand. Ergo – it is not you."

A relieved Jack looked at his wife with a newfound respect.

"But I'm prejudiced, because I know and love you. If these go public, I am not sure how many of our friends or business associates will believe your story. So we're going to have to appease those government agents. Trust me Jack, I'll be there for you and do anything to ensure these never get released."

Rose thought, 'That should do it, he will do anything I want now. I own him.'

"Those bastards promised me they wouldn't show those to you if I consented to help them."

"Well, I guess they felt your agreement, wasn't sincere. They came to me to ensure your wholehearted collaboration."

"I've always been a shy, dare I say an effeminate guy. I know it's only a dress, but let's be honest; clothes are a symbol of our place in society. I married a gorgeous, successful woman and for the first time other men looked at me with respect and envy. I'm just starting to experience a real connection with that role, and now they are asking me to switch sides."

Rose tittered at his reaction. "Don't be so homophobic, the government is not asking you to turn gay."

Rose held up the photo showing Jack's date receiving a blow job.

"No one will ask you to suck cock, unless you really want to that is. Your twin certainly seems to be enjoying the experience."

Jack sat up a little straighter seeing an opportunity. "Rose, maybe you'd like it; it if you'd gave it a try."

"Oh yuck, that's disgusting, it'll be a cold day in hell before I put some man's pee pole in my mouth."

Jack slumped back in his chair and frowned, "I don't understand; you expect me to go down on you almost every night."

"That's different."

"How so?"

"I don't know. It just is."

Rose made a face like she had just had an inspiration. "If it means that much to you, put it on your Christmas wish list. Maybe one of Santa's elves will surprise you. If oral sex is so important, I will make you a deal. The day you get a pussy, I will spend an entire night with my head locked between your legs."

"Rose, that's not funny."

Rose closed her eyes and reflected to herself, 'It was not intended as a joke, I love him more than anyone I've ever known. I just need to transfer Jack's essence into a different shell – a feminine one and my life will be pure bliss.'

Her reverie was disturbed by, "Don't you understand? I'm scared to death. I am not the heroic type. Hell, the closest I ever came to being a hero was rescuing the neighbor's cat from our garage roof. What if anyone we knew saw me in drag? They'd ridicule me! Worst yet, what if something bad happened to me -- like I got beat up or even killed?"

"Well Jack, that's a chance we'll have to take!"

Jack thought, 'What's this, we stuff.' But he kept quiet and listened.

"Jack, how did we first meet?"

"In the cafeteria at school, you invited me to sit at your table."

"Actually it was weeks before that. It was at the Woman's Liberation Rally on the main quad. You didn't notice me. But as the only male there you stood out. I made it a point to find out about you after that. Honey, everyone I knew respected you for having the guts to show up for that rally. Every one of your acquaintances I interviewed said the exact same thing about you. You were a caring and good hearted person. You stand up for what you think is right regardless of the personal consequences. I know you respect women and woman rights. That tells me you can do this."

Jake mumbled, "Yeah right, I am woman hear me roar, I'll come across as a faint hearted drag queen. Not much to respect there."

Rose ignored his cynicism and went on, "My brother joined the Army and volunteered for service in the Gulf War, was wounded in action and then gave his life for this country. And you are worried about being embarrassed. Let me pass along some wisdom he told me about heroism. 'If a man does the most heroic act in the world and is not afraid, he is either a fool or crazy, not a hero. The true heroes are the guys who are so scared they are pissing in their pants and do it anyway'."

"Well Rose, put me in for the Medal of Honor because just thinking about this, and I've already soiled myself."

Rose hoped he meant figuratively, not literally. So mockingly, she taunted, "Boo hoo, Poor Jackie is afraid."

Jack was hurt. He fumed at her rebuke. He wanted his wife to respect him, not mock his lack of machismo.

Rose held one the first picture of the Jack doppelganger and her date and said, "You must admit that you have the potential to look like a very convincing woman. If this was you under the makeup and clothes no one would every question your gender."

She stood, gathered the pictures and slid them back into the open drawer. "We'll save these for posterity. The fact the government would go to so much trouble only tells us how important this operation is to them."

Rose walked around the small table and came up behind her husband. With a shimmy of her shoulders, the robe fell into a puddle on the linoleum floor. As she wrapped her arms around Jack, she pulled him to his feet and rubbed her assets against his bare back. She leaned in and gently licked his earlobe, "Forget about the blackmail, come on baby. I know…we're asking a lot of you. If you won't do it for your country, do it for me. Where is that guy I married? Despite your strenuous opposition, I pray there is a part of you that is willing to try this. There's no higher calling than defending your country. Most do it in uniform on the battlefield; all we're asking is for you to do it in a skirt and heels. If it makes you more comfortable I will ensure your first dress is in leopard print camouflage."

Jack squirmed as Rose's roaming hands caressed Jack's chest and lightly teased his little nubs of flesh. Rose moved her lips down to his neck and nibbled playfully. "Oh, I love your tiny teats and the way they stiffen when I roll them between my fingers."

Then completely out of character, Rose pushed the hardback chair out of the way and she dropped to her knees and spun Jack around. In one quick motion, she pulled his shorts down to his ankles. With her face at crotch level, Jack felt her breath on his manhood. She rubbed her hands over his buttocks and continued her argument with, "I will even get you your own supply of diapers, for those rare occasions when Jackie has to take on the scary boogeyman! If you will do it, I promise you will have fun, I know I will. Trust me on this one."

Jack thought, 'She's trying to manipulate me, and my Lord it's working.' His heart pounded, and his sausage rose.

Rose persisted with, "Think about all the lives you could be saving; doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Of course it matters. Couldn't someone else be the hero?"

"Nah! The government guy explained it to me. Out of the thousands of profiles they scrutinized, yours was the only one that was completely compatible with this particular terrorist. From what he said you might even become friends, isn't that exciting? All you will be doing is trading your sneakers for a pair of stilettos."

Rose clamped her hands firmly on Jack's buttocks and pulled him to the center of the kitchen. Despite her earlier condemnation of fellatio, her lips were now only millimeters away from his erection. She firmly kneaded her fingers into his butt checks. When Rose spoke Jack could feel her breath on his joy stick. It was making it extremely hard to concentrate.

"Come on; just say you will try this. Do it for me." Rose took one hand and gently cupped his balls and added, "And for our future children."

Jack groaned.

"The government has agreed to pay you a very generous salary while you are in training and undercover. They will hire you as a GS 11, thus we get all the standard benefits that come with government service that includes health care. That's over three times what you are making now. When you come home, we will have a very nice nest egg. Let's face it. You currently aren't making enough to pay our bills. If you don't take this deal, we could lose the house. Is that what you want?"

Although given the disadvantageous situation he was in, Jack was unwilling to relent. "Rose, please don't ask me to do this. There is my pride to consider, I will embarrass both of us. I'll appear a total fool."

"Jeez, Jack. Think back to those pictures, physically you can easily pass as a woman, you merely need to learn how to act and respond as one. I'll teach you. Don't have to be such a spineless wimp about it." Rose changed her gentle caress to a tight grip on Jack's balls, and she squeezed.

"Ouch, that hurts." Jack complained in distress. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, Rose said, "I'm prepared to work with you on it." She squeezed him again, more firmly this time. "Are you willing to cooperate with me?"

The comment was more a demand than a question.

Jack felt breathless. There was a debilitating pain radiating from between his legs and a dull roaring in his ears. His mouth was dry. He shook his head defiantly and responded, "No. I can't!"

Rose continued to apply pressure. Jack groaned in agony as Rose used his nuts as a pull toy and forced Jack towards the kitchen table.

Rose had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. She watched her hubby, with a look of angst and fear on his face, as he shuffled the few feet to the table, his ankles effectively shackled by his underpants.

She hung onto his boys, and used her other hand to reach up to the tabletop. She accidentally knocked over her empty coffee cup as she dipped her fingers into the butter dish and scooped out a handful of margarine. Rose released his balls and firmly but gently wrapped her fingers around his shaft. Then, in a double-fisted motion, she coated his woody, ensuring his penis was thoroughly lathered in the lard. She now had Jack's full attention as she pumped several slow, steady strokes. Rose directed his prick towards her mouth and stuck her tongue out and licked the head of his penis, capturing a droplet of pre-ejaculate that had been blended with the margarine.

Rose leaned back on her haunches and lightheartedly said, "I can't believe it's not butter." Rose switched to the one-hand technique. She pumped up and down while she now lovingly cradled his testicles with her other hand. She yanked his noodle and gave Jack the hand job of his life. Rose studied Jack's face and waited until he was on the verge of an orgasm. She cruelly stopped and asked again if Jack would participate in the operation. Jack resisted.

Rose gave him two more enthusiastic pumps, then again, paused. Desperate for release, Jack blushed, lollipop red and dropped his eyes to the floor. In a squeaky voice, he agreed and said, "Yes, I'll do anything, just don't stop." With a final full-length pump, Rose gave Jack the euphoric release he so desperately needed.

Jack erupted and sprayed his joy juice everywhere. The first squirt was significantly more forceful than was customary and caught Rose by surprise. As the stream flew toward her face, she had to use her athletic reactions to duck the stream's trajectory. Irritatingly the ejaculate landed on top of her head. Annoyed at the mess in her hair, Rose used her hands and captured as much of his man juice as she could. With her hands soaked in a mélange of semen and margarine, she stood and celebrated, "Oh darling thank you thank you, thank you so much!" She smothered his face with small butterfly kisses, "We won't regret this. I promise - everything will be fine!"

In retribution for the mess in her hair, Rose cleaned the gooey glob from her hands as she seized Jack by the head and used the concoction like mousse and styled his hair in a faux Mohawk. Watching Jack stand there with his spiked hair and gunk running down his face, Rose ordered, "Jack, I like the new look but now is not the time to experiment with new hairstyles, we need to save that for our first trip to the salon. Clean up this mess you made and don't forget to put the butter back into the fridge. Then join me in the shower. Just hurry, we're burning daylight. I have plans! Don't drip that gooey gunk on my clean carpet!"

What she thought was 'Martha Stewart, welcome to the first day of the rest of your life.'

Jack turned to the sink for a drink of water and stumbled, his underpants still around his ankles. He struggled out of his shackles and cleaned up the kitchen. He noticed the microwave clock and realized it was only 9 am. 'Oh my, time flies when you are having fun.'

He joined his wife in the shower, whose setting temperature was set to a hot, steamy sauna. The shower head hissed out a pounding spray. With his back to the shower head all of the tension seemed to slip away with the water that flowed down the drain.
Rose used her herbal shampoo to wash her hair then used it on her husband. After the final rinse, with soap still stinging his eyes Rose turned off the water and reached for the new bottle of 'Nair for Men' depilatory cream she had strategically hidden behind her conditioner. Rose lathered Jack's face with it. The leftover residue she casually wiped all over his chest.

Jack grabbed the bottle, wiped the soap from his eyes and read the label. "What the hell are you doing?"

To placate her nervous husband Rose said, "Relax honey, as a blond, you have never looked like a big hairy ape, but sometimes you do often remind me of a golden retriever. I'm doing you a favor. This will just remove those 'manly' whiskers. It will do a better job than shaving, and no more nicks and cuts from the razors. Wait ten minutes and then wash it off. Don't get dressed, just towel off."

Rose gracefully slipped out of the shower and thought, 'That will eliminate his peach fuzz for weeks, and when it grows back it will be even softer.'

Jack meekly consented as Rose closed the shower door. She headed for the walk-in closet. She dug out the shopping bag full of the items she had purchased yesterday. She carefully staged each item. Rose had orchestrated everything so today would forever seal her husband's fate.

As Jack waited the required time, he reluctantly admitted to himself his curiosity had been piqued. He was tempted by the security of a government job and its financial rewards. However his thoughts were dominated by how to get out of this with his dignity intact.

Additional doubts resurfaced when he realized that if he left the company, he would be abandoning his wife to the unobstructed clutches of the vile pig.

Rose waited impatiently at the bathroom door, provocatively dressed in her prettiest turquoise baby doll nightgown. She trapped Jack as he left the shower and continued to press, "Come on. Stop stalling. You gave your word! Let's give this a try." As she handed Jack a towel.

Rose said earnestly, "You can quit anytime you want, scouts honor. I promise!" As she displayed the three-finger Girl Scout Salute, with one hand and crossed her fingers behind her back with the other.

A reluctant Jack agreed. "Okay, as long as I can stop if things get too weird. I'll give it a try!"

Rose leapt at Jack, grabbed his hand and led him towards the dresser, saying, "Let's get started."

Rose then made what she hoped was a prophetic statement, "Before I'm done. I am going to turn you into a beautiful looking woman, and you are going to love it."

Jack summarily dismissed her remark and said, "That isn't what I want. I've never had a Cinderella complex!"

Rose, her face flushed with excitement, ignored the comment. She opened her panty drawer and grabbed the item stashed on top. She held up a pair of white thong bikini panties, trimmed in lace. A jubilant and domineering Rose said, "Here honey, this low-rise spandex thong is just for you. The awkward part will be you getting used to the fact that it will be wedged between your cheeks. But just try to ignore the momentary discomfort, you'll adjust quickly. They have the sweetest mix of mesh, lace and nylon. I just adore the little pink bow in front, don't you?"

Jack stood and stared at the peace of fluff Rose held out to him. He shook his head no.

In a commanding voice Rose said, "Well in truth, your opinion doesn't matter. You will wear it anyway!"

'Could this really be happening,' thought Jack.

Rose said firmly, "Step into this Jack. No more tightie whities for you." Jack looked her in the eyes and could tell she wasn't joking. Jack hesitated; he recognized that if he stepped into the feminine garment, nothing would ever be the same again.

Rose sensed Jack's reluctance as she stuffed the thong into Jack's hand. Jack immediately shot the panties at her face like a giant rubber band. Rose was miffed and tossed them back with an acid warning, "I wasn't kidding!"

The humiliation of the situation made Jack want to wilt. In an attempt to retain some sense of masculinity Jack said. "Sorry Sweetheart, I'm not some panty-boy." Jack tossed the panties back to her yet again.

Rose got into a bit of a huff. She responded with a touch of sarcasm, "For God's sake Jack, don't be a panty-waist. They are nothing more than a female equivalent of a jockstrap. I'm not trying to usurp your manhood. We are simply exploring the possibility of you being presentable. I once made an almost exact replica of these for my Ken…I mean Barbie doll. You are going to cooperate and be my full size dress up doll, aren't you?"

Rose opened the thong to expose the interior and then laid it on the floor. "Now honey, just step into the open leg holes. I will adjust it to the correct height and pull up the backside until the bum strap is positioned perfectly."

Jack hesitantly rose one foot and stepped into the garment. He felt that somehow this action was tantamount to surrendering any future claim he had on being a man.

Slowly Rose pulled the lacy garment up his legs. Her fingertips mischievously tickled his inner thighs as she raised the thong. Once she reached the calf, she paused and gazed up into her husband's face. Jack was beginning to fidget. His eyes focused on the delicate article that fettered his legs. Rose slid them up over the knees to his thighs, where Rose encountered an obstacle.

She forced Jack's legs a little wider, which held the panties in place and exposed his crotch. Rose reached up to his ball sack. With a firm yet velvet touch, she maneuvered his tender stones back into their man cave. Jack groaned. Rose again looked at her husband, now he stood frozen in place, his chin down and eyes closed tight. Rose reached up to his white-hot erection and gave the head a quick back-handed flick. The firm ramrod quickly became silly putty. Rose pulled his limp prick back between his legs. As she held it there, she pulled up and positioned the thong.

Jack gasped as the thong caressed and held him, briefly. Jack's senses responded to the delicate touch of the nylon and blood again pumped to his one-eyed milkman. Unfortunately, for Rose the delicate piece of fluff was not strong enough to retain Jack's newly engorged manhood. It swelled back to its natural position. The bulge pushed the panties out of shape.

'Alright' thought Rose, 'He wants to play that way let's try this.' Rose reached through the leg hole and grabbed several pubic hairs and yanked a handful out by the roots. After Jack stopped screaming, Rose again positioned his deflated member. Before she could get to her feet, Jack's member again rose from the dead just like Lazarus.

Conceding defeat, Rose came up with plan B. Rose thought, 'There's more than one way to hide his thingy.' Then, with just her fingertips, she delicately danced up and down the length of his cock as it nestled in its silky prison.

Jack gasped for air at this point, his heart wildly pounded in his chest. Rose felt his balls contracting and purred, "Now cum for me sweetie." She chanted.

Then he crooned a long, drawn out, "Ooooh."

Rose smiled contentedly, as Jack had his second eruption of the morning. Rose reached into Jack's panties, scooped up a handful of spunk, and brought it to Jack's mouth. Chuckling she said, "Sweet cheeks, you made the mess so you have to clean it up. Be a good girl and open wide for your serving of man jam, Bon appétit my darling."

Jack welded his lips closed and steadfastly refused. So in retribution Rose wiped a large glob on Jack's lips. She cupped the remains in her hands and nonchalantly walked the ten feet to the bathroom and washed her hands in the sink. Jack was left standing in their bedroom wearing only this wet thong. He wiped the residue from his lips, but a salty taste remained. Jack felt very awkward and embarrassed knowing that he had secretly enjoyed Rose's little game. The warm sticky quickly became cold and slimy.

As Jack stood there, adrenaline rushed through his body as the primitive neurological response of fight or flight took hold. His wife for whatever reason was attacking manhood. As he saw it, he had two possible responses. One was to say no and fight her, the other was to run. Leave her and call the marriage quits. The latter option was unthinkable, not only did he love her but where would he go and how would he live. Fighting her certainly wasn't an attractive option. Rose always got what she wanted – hell the Christians in the Coliseum had a better chance against the lions. That left capitulation as the only option.

Rose returned and threw the damp hand towel into the hamper. She stared at Jack for a long moment. Jack felt the heat in his face and shifted his weight back and forth in nervous anticipation.

Then Jack asked politely, "Rose may I please remove this wet panty. It is really clammy and uncomfortable?"

In an authoritative tone, Rose told Jack to look in the left hand drawer and take out the items on top. Jack opened the drawer and saw a black lace bra and matching panties. Jack picked up the bra with just two fingertips and hooked the panties with his little finger. Jack questioned his wife. "Rose, you can't be serious. This is what you want me to wear?"

"Yes, it is one of my old bra and panty sets. If you stretch it out, it won't matter. Put those things on and we'll see where it leads us. Be a good boy and do what I say."

Jack dangled the bra at eye level with just his two fingertips. The panties hung from his little pinky. As the bra twisted, he closely examined the feminine device and noticed the price tag still on it, which read '34 D pushup bra with extra padding.'

Jack thought to himself, 'She must think I'm an idiot. Why would a woman with a 36 D chest ever need a padded pushup bra?'

Rose responded in her best authoritative voice, "Do it now Jack, I'm tired of waiting!"

Jack dropped the panties at his feet and stepped into them after ridding himself of his wet ones. He sheepishly pulled them up, and tucked his deflated sausage between his legs.

Rose wanted to laugh at Jack's efforts to fasten the bra but knew that would be counterproductive, so she provided advice and directions as needed. "Jack, the easiest way to put on a bra would be to hook it in the front and spin it around. However, let's practice the big girl fashion. Put your arms through the straps, grab both hook and eye ends, position the cups at nipple level and twist your arms around behind your back. Drag the ends across each other. You will feel when they catch."

Rose watched in amusement as Jack arched his back, floundered, and fumbled about with the straps. Jack wrestled with the two elasticized bands that seemed to have a mind of their own. Rose tittered quietly at his antics and offered more advice. "That's it, move your right end up a little and now to the left, feel the hooks and slide them into the eye loops."

It got so bad Jack developed a cramp in his neck and both arms. He pleaded for help. Eventually, she took pity on him. She stood behind him and fastened the brassiere firmly in place using the tightest settings.

Rose watched the bra dig into his skin and thought, 'I got a band size too small. I want Jack to be constantly aware he has on a bra, comfortable is not in my agenda.'

Standing tight against his back Rose reached around her husband. She ran her hot palms over the cool and smooth bra cups. She nuzzled into his neck and softly said, "Doesn't the combination of constriction and softness feel nice?"

Jack nodded a consolatory yes, much to Rose's delight. At that moment, Rose knew she was never going to allow him to give up his girlie side. Then Rose slid her hands under his bra cups and lightly tweaked his nipples. Rose's excitement was infectious. She felt his heart wildly pounding in his chest and his nipples respond. Using her body she shoved Jack closer to her dresser. She used her legs to force his thighs open, which gave her unfettered access to his boy clit. With one hand, she caressed his tiny breast, slid her other hand lower, reached between his spread legs, and aggressively grabbed at his organ. She rubbed at his sex but found it not yet ready to fully respond. Rose forced Jack up tight against the dresser. She reached into the open drawer and withdrew two silicone pads she had hidden there.

"Jack, since your little boobies don't fill out my bra, let me help with these." Rose slowly slid the breast enhancers into Jack's bra. Once in place, Rose hoisted and bounced the breasts with both hands and said, "Very feminine, what do you think Jack?"

Rose was thinking, 'I can't wait to see my hubby decked out with a full set of Baywatch boobs.'

Jack looked down at his chest and only saw two nicely rounded mounds. He blushed as his member started to swell and Rose slid one hand back to Jack's groin and said, "It would seem you agree."

Jack's eyes went wide as Rose played with his silicone breasts and teased his cock back to life.

"My beautiful wife," Rose whispered seductively into his ear. Her knees forced his thighs further apart. Jack felt her fingers probe between his thighs...she stroked him, as though he were a girl! And his body loved it!

Rose thought 'OMG, He is getting hard again. Jack has never responded that quickly, even on our honeymoon. By this time tomorrow Jackie will be on his way to becoming what the government needs, and the foundation of my future wife.'

Rose grabbed quick glances at him through glazed eyes. The sight of her husband as he writhed in ecstasy thrilled her. She had enjoyed numerous lesbian adventures at school, but this was better by far. She sensed, accurately, that it was the power, her absolute control over what was happening to another human being, which stimulated her. It suddenly occurred to Rose that if Jack could indeed be made to accept the role of the wife...then it followed that she as the husband would have total control. Not just of their sex life, over the household chores, their finances, and in every other aspect of their lives, she even planned on taking full control of the TV remote.

Rose began to work her hips and pelvis urgently. Her mouth closed over Jack's ear and neck. Rose bit hard on Jack's earlobe. She jerked her hips against him and rode the back of his leg. She closed her eyes and imagined that she really was making love to a woman! Lost in a fantasy world where she was a man, Rose brought both hands up, slid them under the bra, and cruelly kneaded Jack's breasts. His moans fanned her desire to a fever pitch. Her groin slammed against his helpless body. The knowledge that she was hurting him...that he accepted it, caused her lust to boil over. With one last frenzied, convulsive lunge, she climaxed and collapsed satisfied and exhausted against his body.

A disconcerted Jack watched his wife's expression in the dresser mirror. Her eyes sparkled. She returned Jacks stare, but her eyes were unfocused. Her mind was obviously a million miles away.

Fearful of regression, Rose pulled him close. "Darling, tell me it was good for you too."

Rose saw the shame, confusion and doubt in his face.

"Rose, this isn't normal. Look at me. I look and feel ridiculous!"

She knew what she had to do. "Shush, sweetheart, that's my whole point. You'll see."

She told him firmly. "Normal is way over rated. You look and feel wrong because you look like a man in a bra and panties! However, if you wore your hair differently, if your face was made-up properly, and if you let me show you how to become a real woman..., then you'd look and feel like one. Aren't you willing to at least try?"

Jack groaned to himself and reached for the bra to pull it off and said, "I'm sorry. I can't do it,
I won't do this!"

Her response struck like a whip. She barked, "Don't you dare touch that! Now I've been very patient with you, but enough is enough. You've given your word to me and to the government. We're going to finish dressing you. It'll make all the difference. Do be a doll and don't fight me on this."

Rose thought, 'An ocean is created by many drops. When he comes home from his grand patriotic adventure, I know I can mold him into a trophy wife. The trick is how do I get him to want that? I'll see if those government guys can provide any suggestions.'

Once he is there I'll ensure he comes to love it. There are so many things two women can do to pleasure each other. We'll explore each and every one of them.

Jack released his grip on the bra clasps, and Rose jumped with glee and said, "This is just like when I was a little girl and played dress up with my dolls."

Rose hummed to herself, as she waded into her closet, and headed to the very back where she had staged Jack's new dress. Her heart raced in anticipation of what was about to unfold.

"What is Mademoiselle going to wear?" To keep up the façade that this wasn't all preplanned. Rose held up dress after dress, Rose whined, she couldn't find anything that would fit her husband. Rose finally dug to the very back of her closet.

"Great." Again for Jack's benefit she said sounding sarcastic. "The only thing I have that might even come close to fitting you is this old knit yellow dress with big white buttons up the front. The knit will stretch to fit your frame. It is amazing; I think we wear about the same size dress." Rose said with a devilish little smile.

Jack gave Rose a skeptical look. His intuition radar was again going off. He was not the largest guy, but no way was he the same size as his wife.

Rose tripped over dresses that had fallen on the floor and stumbled out of the closet with the dress.

"How does your underwear feel, sweetheart?"

"Uncomfortable, can I please take them off?"

Rose answered with a firm "No!"

She handed the dress to Jack. "Please put this on for me, and I will fasten you up."

Jack countered with a pout but conceded the inevitable. He stepped into the dress. He wiggled and squirmed until he got the dress up and slid his arms into the arm holes. Rose drew her husband towards her and playfully closed the front of his dress as she accidentally rubbed his swollen manhood as she moved from button to button.

As she slid her hand over his firm member, she observed, "My my, it appears that despite your protestations, someone is enjoying this. It seems you really like your new underwear. Is my hubby wobbly, winking his pretty panties? Do they feel good on his wittle weenie?"

Before a flustered Jack could respond, Rose stood and headed for the closet where she rummaged through some boxes on the top shelf and continued with, "Hot damn, I still have this wig from last year's Halloween party. Remember I went as Artemis, the female warrior goddess of fertility. Jack, you were adorable in those green tights as Peter Pan. This hairpiece will be your crowning glory. It's a good natural looking wig, with long blond sexy, bouncing curls, and straight bangs. It's just not the best wig out there. I picked it up used, on Ebay, but it is good for a start."

Rose adjusted the wig and used her fingers to untangle the long curls. "I love the way the long hair frames your face and the white color brings out the blue of your eyes."

Rose thought, 'Oh, I wish I had extra money in my checking account, but for now I'll have to make do with what I have. When the windfall arrives, I'll get him, the best human hair wig I can find. We can move his male clothes into the spare bedroom to make room for his new wardrobe. I'm going to open a Nostrums credit card just for him.'

Rose stood back and critically examined her creation. She couldn't help herself; she softly sniggered.

Jack responded with anger, "Rose. This is hard enough on me already. I told you I would look ridiculous."

"Au contraire, mon ami. When we get done you will be stunning. I promise."

"Rose, why is this so important to you, why do you want to see me in a dress?"

"Careful Jack, are you sure you want to ask that? You may not like the answer. Let's just say its fun playing with you as my dress up doll. I've been doing this kind of thing, since I was a little girl. As far back as I can remember my mother gave me dolls to play with. There were doll clothes, baby buggies, play dishes, pots and pans - all done in an effort to mold me into her idea of a woman. Much to her sorrow, I never went through the extreme princess phase. In fact, I marched into my first day of preschool in my favorite pinstriped overalls and carried a GI Joe lunchbox, which I had talked my dad in getting for me. He always was a sucker for a few tears."

"For my mother, my ‘tomboy’ phase was a crisis. She totally freaked out when we were reading Cinderella, I made the comment I didn’t like the Cinderella character. I would rather be one of the dominant stepsisters."

Jack shrugged and thought his wife truly was unique, no one ever rooted for the stepsisters.

"As part of her brainwashing efforts my mother decided I needed to progress from standard baby dolls to Barbie. My first Barbie doll really freaked me out. It was I think my 10th birthday party. I just looked at it and thought, 'What would Gloria Steinem say?' So I marched right up to my mother and criticized her selection of present. I threw the doll on the floor and objected about the dolls ridiculous dimensions. I told her I had read that if Barbie were a real woman she would have been an impossible 38-18-34. I told Mom the doll was a freak of nature. I lectured Mom; no real woman is made like that!"

With a gloomy far-off look, Rose continued. "Two weeks later my Mother and I took a road trip to a visit an old friend of hers. I was flabbergasted this woman stood 5'7, had a 30-inch waist, and a significant F cup bust that she insisted was not artificially enhanced. I had to concede that round to my mother."

"My mother wouldn't give up. So I took things in my own hands. I demanded that for every Barbie doll I receive, I get a Ken doll as its mate. Being a feminist zealot from a very early age, I resented being forced into all the fluff of the girly girl. My mother became obsessed with my gender identity, and we had long drawn out fights over her attempt to enforce gender bias on me. She was always asking me to play house. I did, but what she didn't know was that in my mind, I always played the husband not the wife. By the time I was in my teens, my mother, and I were constantly squabbling over a female's position in modern society. In 7h grade, I was suspended from school because I came to class wearing a t-shirt that read Girls Rule, Boys Drool."

"I had taught myself to sew and spent time off from school making outfits for my Ken dolls. I exchanged all the dull man attire for Barbie's clothes. I even learned to make little tiny Brassieres and g-strings. Well actually, little is a relative term. I always insisted the faux-Barbie's dimensions be more impressive than the girl dolls. Every Ken had a wardrobe of Micro-Mini dresses and tight tops. I even managed to assemble a large collection of wigs for my guys."

"My lord Rose, they don't sell wigs for dolls that size," said an astonished Jack.

"I know. I would go to the thrift shop, and for pennies pick up old broken dolls. I simply cannibalized these dolls and scalped them. With a set of oil paints for makeup, I doubled my Barbie collection."

"Rose did you and your mother ever reconcile?"

"No, the straw that broke the camel's back was when she accused me of being a feminist. I set her straight when I told her, in no uncertain terms, I was NOT a feminist! Feminists believe all men and woman are equals, when, in fact, men are the inferior of the species. I calmly explained that females are smarter and more evolved."

"To bring me around to the correct way of thinking my mother checked a Jane Austen book out of the library for me to read. The next day I exchanged it for a biography of Joan of Arc. That totally freaked out Mom."

"Rose, are you telling me you feel demeaned being the wife and homemaker?"

"The answer to your question is no. In today's society, there most definitely is a role for the dutiful housewife."

Jack was confused at this evasive response.

Rose thought as she lovingly stroked Jack's silk clad buttocks, 'It's just that I have plans for someone else to star in my production of the Stepford Wives.'

Rose instructed, "Now, Ken walk for me, I want to see how it hangs on you."

Jack hesitated and mumbled, "My name is Jack."

Rose wrinkled her brow and blithely dismissed his concern and said, "Jack, I gave you something to do! Why don't you go do it? You know when I set my mind on something I always get my way!"

Jack shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

A crestfallen Jack agreed to try it. Pointing to the bulge in his groin Jack said, "Rose, I'm ashamed at my reactions and feel guilty dressed like this. I will do it. However, please leave me some dignity and let me do it in private, just until I adjust to the feel of the silk panties."

Jack was lost in thought. He hated to admit it but there was some deep-seated pleasure he received from basically giving himself over to Rose. He knew as a man, he had to maintain the façade of objections. But in reality, he was beginning to enjoy this game.

Rose breathed a deep sigh of relief and fought to hide her glee. She left the room before she lost her composure. Rose mused over how easily she had gotten her husband into a bra, panties and a dress. Through the crack in the door, Rose spied on her husband. She watched him parade around in his dress. The dress flowed around Jack. The hem limited his steps. Jack tottered about the room as he couldn't take full steps, unless he hitched it up in a very feminine gesture. Jack repeatedly pulled the dress away from his manly bulge as he tried to conceal it.

Jack stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror and, to his utter amazement. The dress almost fit. He was mortified by the fact he enjoyed the experience and couldn't get his erection to subside. As a man he knew that was wrong. He stood there for a few minutes turning this way and that, posing in front of the mirror. Jack thought, 'I've given up my dignity, what more can she ask of me?'

Rose tiptoed into the room, holding an extra firm panty girdle, and came to an abrupt halt and stared at her husband watching him checking out his ass in the dress. She could keep a straight face only for an instant before she broke into a wide grin.

A thoroughly mortified Jack summed up a most inauspicious blush and hissed, "Please don't ridicule me."

Rose simply glared at her blushing husband, "Jeezus, I see Jack the jerk is back! I didn't say a word. From where I'm standing it actually doesn't look too bad if you discount the very unladylike bulge in the groin and the armpit hair. In fact, when I look at you, I see the potential for a busty bimbo."

Rose asked coyly, "Does my lovely virgin bride like what he sees?"

Embarrassed beyond belief, Jack was incapable of speech, and could only shamefully nod, yes.

Regaining his composure, Jack tried to sound assertive. "I said I would try this. But enjoyable or not, it's a onetime thing. It ends today."

In response Rose arched an eyebrow and said demurely, "Once is all I'm asking."

But what she thought to herself was. 'I don't think so.'

Jack tried several times to hide his discomfort. The frilly little panties weren't strong enough to contain his excitement. Rose handed Jack the foundation garment and stood back to watch and said, "Jack this is the ultimate full support panty girdle. Happiness is a flat front and a firm uplifted derrière."

"Rose I've never seen you wear a girdle."

"Nah, too much trouble but I hear the results can be quite spectacular, now put it on!"

Jack held up his dress and stepped into the uncompromising garment like a pair of bicycle shorts. He pulled, wiggled, tugged, and strained to get it up.

Rose slid her hand down the front panel and again tucked his man parts out of view. With a final two-handed tug, she pulled the garment snug. Rose saw her husband's groin look as smooth as a Ken doll. This transported her back to her childhood. The memories were still so fresh. She actually raised one hand to her mouth to hide her smile. Next she repositioned the wig, and adjusted it properly on Jack's head. With her fingers, she again brushed it to get the snarls out. She took a step back and closely examined her creation. Rose wrinkled up her brow and lightly fingered the armpit hair hanging out of the dress sleeves. Rose blithely pronounced, "Well one thing is apparent. We have a major deforestation project to undertake."

With a good-humored tone, Jack lifted his hands over his head in mock surrender, looked at his armpits and said, "Hell Rose, It looks like we'll need a lumberjack."

Rose snickered at the small joke.

"Sweetheart, I want to be a real American hero as much as the next guy, nevertheless, I'm terrified of doing it in a dress. Rose, I am just a dyslexic, computer geek. I don't know anything about being a hero or a girl, for that matter! Besides its 'wrong' for guys to look and act like women, we just aren't shaped the same way."

Jack ran his hand down his sides and grabbed the love handles that overhung from the top of his girdle. Playfully, Jack said, "Rose, look how pathetic I come across. This is never going to work unless we can do something about my muffin top!"

Rose, smiled and said, "My poor Jackie is brilliant about some things, and so naive about others. Sweetheart, we're only getting started, let's give it some time. You'll make a better woman than most who were born to it."

@ @ @ @

After several minutes of lighthearted protest, that lacked any sincerity Rose tugged Jack to her makeup table. Excitedly Rose proclaimed, "We're going to spend the day primping and preening. It is going to be a ball, I promise."

Commitment is an act, not a word. Jean-Paul Sartre

@ @ @ @

A NOTE REGARDING THIS STORY.

This is a fictional chronicle of a normal hardworking guy named Jack. The federal government made him an offer he couldn't refuse. All they asked was for Jack to go undercover to help the U.S. Government ensnare a terrorist.

Any resemblance of the characters depicted in the story to actual individuals is coincidental. All events are the sole responsibility of the author. None of the scenes in this story depict minors engaged in any sexual encounter.

This story has been previously posted on other sites. It is being posted here with a strong rewrite; some new chapters have been added. I had my BFF Monica Rose edit the material so it should be more readable. Marina

Marina: [email protected]

@ @ @ @

Chapter 4 – The makeover

"Extreme Makeovers...they help people that are uncomfortable in their own skin. They really change lives." Steven Hill

Rose made a brief speech. "Jack with your, nose, thin lips and masculine face I am not promising to make you a movie star. However, based on the results of your twin in the Polaroids, I'm positive we can make you presentable. With a little effort you may even be attractive. Are you willing to cooperate with me on this?"

"Jack relax let me show you how passable you'll be. We can even have some fun with this little dress up exercise. What do you want? You've already agreed to do this, so either do it enthusiastically or just call it quiets."

Jack sat at the vanity, he attempted to slouch but the steely grip of his girdle forced his posture to remain firm and upright, his back ramrod straight and his small boobs thrust forward. He gave the cooperation issue some serious reflection. In his heart, he knew the right thing to do. His constant protests and foot-dragging were merely to protect his precious male ego, besides it was ridiculous for guys to try and be as good as a woman. No real man would willingly dive into the estrogen pool of makeup, bras and silk panties. But Rose was correct. If he was going to do this, he should give it his best effort. Jack felt relieved that Rose was forcing the issue, it freed him of guilt. It would also free him from the need to constantly fight every little feminization step. He mentally decided to try the government's proposal.

Jack smiled at Rose and said, "Come on, what are you waiting for? Let's get this thing started. Turn me into a beautiful spy like Pussy Galore in Gold Finger."

Rose was giddy over the prospect of glamorizing her husband. She thought of all the advantages of having a feminized-domesticated husband, 'She would mold him to be the perfect spouse. He will shop, cook, clean, do the laundry and never complain about it. He'll be everything a lesbian wife could want, a chef in the kitchen, a lady in the living room and a whore in the bedroom.' A delighted Rose jumped up and clapped her hands in excitement. In a whimsical tone said, "It's about time. Well, Miss Galore, scoot your pussy over and let me share the stool and we'll begin."

Rose thought, 'Hum, pussy. I hadn't thought of taking it that far, maybe it was a Freudian slip on Jack's part. Am I ready to trade his pole for a hole? That would be rather drastic; we'll have to see where this all leads us.'

She sat next to her husband and began his makeup lessons. "Jack, you are a smart guy. It won't be hard to learn the basics. We will start out real slow. Let's begin with a good moisturizer. It'll make the application of your makeup much easier."

Rose sorted through the jumble of cosmetics on the vanity and selected a series of tubes and jars and placed them in front of Jack. "Foundation and concealer are the most important products in any woman's beauty arsenal. Concealer goes on first and looks most natural when you work in sheer layers and build it up gradually. Just keep in mind it's not a beauty product to scrimp on. Once you have a good application we will apply your foundation. Then we will set it all with a translucent powder. Here are all the products, get started I will observe and critique as needed."

With the aid of small sponges, some brushes and his fingers Jack turned his face into a blank canvas in just a few minutes.

Rose squirmed in delight watching Jack's response to his makeup tutorial.

"Now we'll start with your lips. Most guys are fixated on a woman's breast and hair, but in the end, her lips are the real attention getter."

Rose was thinking, 'I'm so looking forward to being the tour guide on this journey into femininity.' Rose next described how to use a lip liner. Jack wanted Rose to demonstrate, but she insisted that he do it, explaining learning comes from doing not watching.

Jack responded, "Gee whiz, you're putting all the pressure on me!"

Rose casually rested her hand on top of the bulge in his crotch. "Yes I can feel the pressure building."

Then with a final gentle squeeze she said, "Let's hope the safety valve doesn't blow."

Rose pressed on, "Always start with a sharpened pencil, and use a color slightly darker than your lipstick. Close your mouth naturally. Draw the pencil along the line of the lips from the middle to the outer edges. Draw the line slightly outside the natural curve of the lip line, which will maximize your thin lips. If you have a problem with creating a smooth line start by putting a series of small marks along the natural lip line then just connect the dots."

Watching Jack follow her instructions to the letter and outline what would be luscious, full lips, she hugged her husband in celebration, "Excellent darling, I couldn't have done better."

Rose handed Jack a new tube of a long lasting frosty pink shimmering lipstick. "The first time a woman puts on her own lipstick is a sensual rite of passage. I want you to enjoy this as much as I am."

As if talking to a mentally challenged child she patiently explained, "Lipstick should always remain inside the lip liner. Now open the mouth slightly and say 'Oh'. By staying relaxed, you will be able to reach the total surface area of the lips. As with the pencil line, start from the top center and using the liner as your guide, glide the lipstick smoothly to the corner of the mouth on each side, repeating for the bottom lip. Always use nice smooth strokes. To get longer-lasting color, repeat the process and blot between applications. When you're finished use your sparkle lip-gloss on the center of your lower lip."

Jack spent the better part of five minutes trying to get the cupid bow just right, even though he went outside his lips a tiny bit, he thought it looked fantastic. Jack was feeling very proud of his accomplishments. His lips were lush and glistened like wet paint.

Rose struggled to stay in her seat. Her excitement exploded as her enchanted garden had gone from a damp marsh to a fast running stream. Rose squealed in delight at the finished product. "Lover, I have just decided pink is going to be your signature color!"

"We'll spend a long time on your eyes; we're going to go for a dramatic look, nothing extreme. We'll save the bombshell look for next time. Today we will just do something a woman would wear for a night on the town." Rose said with excitement

Jack had to reach down and adjust his member as it painfully inflated in his panties.

Rose sorted through the clutter of beauty products on the vanity and lightly sung to herself.

'We've been keeping out of sight
Waiting 'til the time was right
Now we kiss in broad daylight
Our secret's out
We don't have to hide away
We can walk along Broadway
Let everybody see the way we sway
Our secret's out
You're the one I'm proud to have by my side
You're the one I care for
You're the one that breaks me open wide
I pledge my love to you
You got my soul
It's such a beautiful feeling
It's such a beautiful feeling
It's such a beautiful feeling with you.'

Finished with her brief serenade, Rose found what she was looking for and informed Jack eyelashes were next. She had him first use an eyelash curler. "Push up on your eyelids, and force your lashes upward. Squeeze them with a curler, and hold for a count of five."

Rose handed Jack the mascara and lectured, "Always start with the outside base of the upper lash, use short jagged strokes."

Once he learned not to flinch when the wand came near his eye, he was able to apply several layers of vibrant metallic blue mascara.

Rose lovingly played with his wig hair and complimented her husband, "I am jealous, you have great lashes for a boy."

Jack fluttered his long massacred eyelashes at Rose and gave her a triumphant smile. "Don't get carried away Jack, we've only started. False eyelashes are next."

Jake shrugged and stared straight ahead with his mouth shut. Rose searched through the vanity's top drawer and found what see was looking for. "Let's go with the glamour length for your unveiling."

Mastering lips were a piece of cake compared to the complexities of applying false lashes. Jack quickly became exasperated. First they wouldn't stick at all. Then on the fourth try, he attached them only to find they had been positioned at the inner corner of his eye, rather than the outer. His next attempt resulted like the preceding ones in failure, when he got a glob of adhesive in his eye. The final disaster was when he managed to glue his eyelids shut. "Rose, please, I need help. I can't do this. How do you stick something on your eye when you must close your eye to do it?"

Rose condescended to help just this one time and quickly got them position perfectly.

"Now it's time for your eye shadow I think three shades of pink will look alluring."

Rose handed Jack several sable brushes and a trio case of pressed powder eye shadow. She had him cover his eye from the eyelids to the brow in the lightest shade. Next she had him fill in the crease of his eyelid with the darkest shade. Then starting at the inside corner and extending to the outer corner, and formed a small triangle of shadow that points toward his temple with the middle shade. Lastly, he smudged the line with his finger. He darkened the triangle at the outer corner. Next he blended three shades together. Being careful to blend into the lid area, then an accent color of gold went just under the brow for a more dramatic look. After a bit more blending Jack thought, 'Voila!'

The next challenge was the eyeliner. The mere thought of liquid eyeliner was intimidating. Jack who hated failing at anything felt frustrated. In exasperation he suggested he skip this step.

"Stop being such a drama queen. An hour of practice is worth five of foot dragging. If you bitch one more time about your makeup lessons I am dragging you down to my beauty shop for personalized instructions. Is that what you want?"

"Rose give me a break, there has to be other options. This pencil thingy that I used on my brows works just fine let me use that."

"Jack either we do it right or we don't do it at all." Rose refused to give in. She insisted Jack at least try it. His hands were a little unstable but eventually Jack managed to get a thin line under each eye. Then on the upper eyes he applied it a little thicker and extended it a hint past the end of his eyes in an upward sweep.

"Honey you really do look beautiful."

A mortified Jack begged, "Please don't say that. It's fundamentally wrong for a man to be considered beautiful. After all we're just men and therefore inferior – in appearance. Besides I'm fat!"

"Nonsense, you can stand to lose a few pounds, I would say you are a bit rubenesque perhaps, but certainly not fat."

Rose shrugged off his comment and sat astounded at his meteoric grasp of makeup. "Jack, are you sure you have never done this before?"

"Well there was that time I danced ballet, we had to put on our own stage makeup for performances."

"Oh, my God, I had no idea you were a ballerina."

Jack shot back, "I am sensitive to the term ballerina. The correct term for men is danseurs."

"Whatever…why did you give it up?"

"Rose, as was customary in Russia, in primary school everyone took ballet. Professional ballerinas make it look like a piece of cake, but ballet is not an easy thing. It requires incredible discipline and conditioning. I found it pushed me to my limits, mentally and physically. But in all honesty I was really good at it."

With a sad expression on his face Jack continued, "When we moved to the States, I resumed my dance lessons. Here there were only girls in my class. They would call me names, giggle and point at me. Those taunts of faggot still haunt my nightmares. They were jealous because I was a better dancer than any of them. They took to calling me a girl wannabe, and spread the rumor around school that I was gay. They frequently exchanged my black tights for pink ones. Once they even stuffed a tampon into my locker. Dance class became a matter of survival."

"It all came to a head the summer before high school. I was scheduled to play the Swan in Mathew Bourne’s version of Swan Lake – that's where men, rather than women, dance the lead. My parents were ecstatic over the idea. Unfortunately word got around town that I was dancing in a tutu. One day at lunch two of the boys from my school trapped me in a bathroom and used a red marker to coat my lips. They said I was pretty and stole my pants and threatened to rape my sissy ass. My cries for help brought a teacher, who rescued me. But I had to go through the entire afternoon with bright red lips. Ever since then I have been supersensitive about appearing effeminate. So after one performance I refused to ever dance again."

Jack sat mute with a deer caught in-the-headlights expression on his face.

"Rose can a let you in on a secret?"

"Sure, you can tell me anything."

"As a small boy, ballet was my life. I prayed God would make me a girl so I could become a Ballerina. I know that is ridiculous; but I have always wondered how my life would have turned out if I had been a woman. There are rolls in ballet for men, but woman are the true stars.

Those thoughts caused me a great deal of pain as a young boy. I grew out of that phase and came to accept my manhood, what you are doing to me has touched a raw nerve."

"A wise man, I forget who, once said, 'Tell me what you want and I'll tell you who you are'. We all have dreams, Jack you have no idea how happy you've made me. Letting me in on your deepest dark secret tells me how much you trust me. I love you for it."

Rose broke the tension as she handed Jack a large sable brush and cheerfully announced, "Now back to work. When using blush, first smile. That accentuates the fullest part of your cheek. Apply powder on the 'apple' just between your highlighter and above the counter shadow. Avoid blending blusher directly under the eye. With the brush, blend upward and outward toward your ears. Blend until color fades into the hairline. Blush can be any color, however it's advisable to coordinate with the lip color you are using - that doesn't mean you have to have an exact match but they should complement one another by being in the same family tone."

Being a computer engineer and not an artist Jack had no idea what colors were in the same family. Rose patiently sat there and waited for her husband to select the proper color. She shook her head no, every time he picked up the wrong one. Eventually through trial and error Jack produced laudable results.

In conclusion Rose commented, "For once your weak jaw is an asset. Watch as I use dark concealer to contour your face into a more feminine image."

Once she was finished Jack gazed into the vanity mirror for the longest time without saying anything. He turned his head slightly from side to side. What he saw was a stranger. Judging by Rose's smile, she was very proud of her handy work.

Rose watched his face for a moment, trying to get a read on his emotions. Jack initially appeared happy with what he saw then slowly his expression turned to one of melancholy. Eventually, she reached out a finger and turned his chin so he was looking at her.

"Well what do you think?" He looked mystified at the question. "I don't know – different."

Rose questioned him, "Different how? Are you mad, upset or happy?"

Jack merely shrugged and pointed to his heart, "I not only look different. I feel different in here."

Next Rose grabbed her fingernail polish and slid off the stool and sat at Jack's feet. Jack had ticklish feet and fidgeted as Rose went to work on his toes. She figured that polish might be too challenging for a novice girl. Rose filed them and applied four coats of pink polish. Waiting for the polish to dry Rose surprised Jack with a pair of toe rings. Saying, "Here is a present for my new best girlfriend."

From her kneeling position Rose had a clear view of the bulge in Jack's crotch. Jack noticed what Rose was staring at and quickly tried to cover his groin with his hands. Rose laughed and said, "If this excites you that's alright with me."

"But it's not right; a man isn't suppose to get excited dressing like a woman."

"Jack, my homophobic husband, I love it with you all pretty. There are studies that show as many as 25% of American males, cross-dress on an occasional basis. I've seen studies that say the percentage that dress on a regular basis is closer to 10%. For some this dressing is head to toe 'en femme' while others only involve one or two items of lingerie. So the fact you are enjoying your delicates is nothing to be ashamed of."

Before Jack could recover Rose attacked his hands with vigor and attached long glue-on fingernails. Jack thought the nails were excessively long and a bit flashy, but decided not to say anything.

Rose gleefully announced, "Your hands look fabulous with nails that length. They're beautiful. Girl you've got bling!"

It took Jack several tries to pick up the empty fingernail package. Using his nails like chopsticks he eventually succeeded. "I can't do anything with these."

Laughing Rose said, "Girlfriend, you'll learn it only takes practice."

Rose went to the closet and returned with a new jewelry box. She told Jack to open it. He found a treasure-trove of costume jewelry. Jack was taken aback. Rose seldom wore any jewelry and certainly not anything so flamboyant.

"Every woman has to develop her own style. For this, your premiere, I want you to pick your own accessories."

Jack decided to accessorize with two clip-on crystal earrings with a full 6 inch drop. He quickly secured them in place. Jack swung his head from side to side. He loved the way the earrings peaked out from behind his long curls and the way they would brush his neck. He found two large rhinestone cocktail rings that he thought were appropriate for the glamour look Rose was going for. Then he chose a pair of shiny silver bracelets that chimed whenever he moved his hand. Next Jack selected what he considered the piece de resistance, a long pearl necklace.

As he reached again into the box Rose laughed and said, "Stop! Anymore and you would look like a tart."

While she thought, 'He's hopeless. He has no fashion sense at all. I've seen pictures of drag queens decked out in less. But experience is the best teacher.'

"Don't move an inch. I'm going to get our camera I have to capture this moment for posterity."

A radiant Jack stood in is his yellow dress and glamour makeup and was transfixed. He admired himself in the vanity mirror. For the first time in his life he was pleased with his appearance, rather than ashamed by it.

Rose stood back and watched the scene unfold. Realizing things were succeeding beyond her wildest dreams. Rose kept taking pictures until the batteries died in the camera. Jack started at his wife's refection in the mirror and lightheartedly said, "Please don't hate me because I'm beautiful."

She sarcastically stuck her tongue between her lips and gave her husband a raspberry. Rose surprised Jack by grabbing her perfume bottle and applied a drop on each wrist and behind his ear lobes.

Standing back and looking at her husband in the yellow dress and white buttons Rose declared, "Jeez, do you know what you look like? With that dress and platinum blond hair it reminds me of a gigantic daisy.

"Oh Jack; don't look so glum, I'm not making fun of you. I just thought we could use that to our advantage. It would be the perfect name for my special new friend. I want to call you Daisy. Think about it. A daisy is a beautiful wild flower, yet it still is tough as a weed. Just like you."

Jack stood there awestruck. Finally he said, "Really you're serious? You want to go with Daisy? As in Daisy double D Dukes?"

Maddeningly Rose just stood there with a smirk on her face and inquired, "What name would you like?"

"How about just calling me Jackie" responded Jack?

Rose immediately rejected it. "Go look at yourself Jacqueline darling,"

He said. "Jacqueline?"

"Yes at a minimum Jacqueline, Jackie would be too easy to slip up and call you Jack. Now that you are all dolled up, I don't want anyone ever calling you Jack again. If you don't like Jacqueline, how about something with a bit more flare, we could go with Jill. Get it Jack and Jill?"

"No, you are going to be difficult aren't you, then how about Jasmine, Juliette, Jolene, or we could go dramatic, Candace, that way I could call you Candy, that would be so sweet."

There is that sour puss again, "Okay, we could always go with the drag queen theme. Stop me when I get to something you like, Lusty Lana, Sugar Aplenty, or maybe Ophelia Nuts."

"Stop! You win, Daisy it is."

"Now for a middle name, what would really fit? That's it, just the thing, you will be called Belle. The Bell of the ball if I get my way," mumbled Rose. "That's it, end of discussion. We will call you Daisy Belle. We are, Rose and Daisy, the flower twins."

Rose Jumped up and down, grabbed her husband and said, "Jack, I just had an inspiration. When we have our first daughter, we will call her Lilly. Our next one will be Violet. The one after that will be Marigold. We can create our own special bouquet."

Jack said, "Slow down Rose, stop right there."

The two lovebirds sealed the deal with a soul touching kiss.

As they broke their embrace Jack inquired, "Rose seriously, what happens if they we have boys?"

In a jocular manner, Rose remarked, "That will never happen, no one is screwing with my bouquet – even God knows better than that!"

Rose stood there with massive smile that took over her entire face.

"Oh Jack, I know that look. Your bravado makes you think that wearing a dress and being called Daisy Belle will make you appear to be less of a man. Well dear husband, there is nothing that is further from the truth. Jack in my eyes you are more of a man for doing this, I mean that with all my heart. I don't know anyone else who is man enough to be a woman."

Jack pranced around in the dress, for several hours. He became accustomed to the feel of it. Rose instructed him on how to stand, walk, and sit but most importantly, how to use the potty wearing a dress. Rose promised her husband, he would learn all about feminine mannerisms. She would teach him everything he needed to pass as a woman.

Rose produced a pair of high heels nothing outlandish, just an open-toed sandal with a solid 2-inch block heel and ankle straps for added stability. Handing Jack his first pair of heels, Rose said, "Shoes always bring great joy to women. The right pair of high heels often makes a woman giddy with delight. But let's not forget, heels require stockings as well. Put on these control top black pantyhose. They are dark enough to hide your leg hair."

Rose told Jack, "Sit on the bed. Wearing pantyhose for the first time is a rite of passage for young girls becoming women. Daisy, you are going through an accelerated puberty, let me show you how to put them on."

"Wait Rose I'm still trapped in my patty girdle and can't get out. We need to remove it first I believe."

Rose laughed to herself and thought; 'He's learning. Tonight he gets his first lesson in hand washing delicates. Before I'm done with this loving man, I am going to get him in a nice evening dress, garter belt, fishnets, and stilettos. I will turn him into the best damn wife any woman could have.'

Under close scrutiny, Jack struggled out of the girdle and was handed a pair of cotton gloves that Rose retrieved from her stocking drawer. Rose patently explained, "Always wear gloves before grabbing the hose or tights. They will protect the nylons from your nails and jewelry. When you put on the pantyhose, first hold one of the legs in your hand with your thumbs on the inside. Rollup the hose starting from hip to so that only the foot hangs down. Put your toes, then your foot into the leg. Curling your toes will help avoid snags from your toenails, then gently roll or pull up the leg of the hose onto your leg. Do the same with the other pantyhose leg. This will minimize snags. Then stand up and pull up the torso part. Make sure you alternate pulling up each leg, carefully, a little at a time."

Jack did as he was told. Once the hose were up, he secured them in place at his waist. He tucked his man parts back into place and smoothed his dress back down. Then he ran my hands over his legs, slowly caressing each one.

Jack thought it was a magical feeling. Rose watched with a beguiling smile, despite the tuck a bulge reappeared in his crotch, Rose knew she had him. To reinforce his positive feelings Rose lavishly complimented Jack on the sexy appearance of his legs.

Sitting on the end of the bed with his shoes placed on the floor directly before him, Jack tried to casually slide his foot into them. Jack tried unsuccessfully to get his toes 'around the corner' as he put it.

"Jackie, come sit at my vanity chair I will help. These slippers are Cinderella tested. They will make you feel like a fairy."

Chocking on her small gaff Rose continued "I... mean a fairy princess."

Moving from the bed to the chair at the vanity was a smart move. Once Jack sat in a proper chair, Rose knelt at his feet. With a touch of baby power, Rose slid his manly feet into the shoes. Rose buckled the straps, and ensured they were securely fastened. Once she finished Jack immediately stood up in the tendon-stretching shoes, and nearly pitched over forward. He sat back down totally embarrassed. Jack stood again, this time Rose held out her hand to aid him in standing. Jack commented to Rose the shoes felt extremely clumsy.

Her unsympathetic response was, "Jack, we will get you a pair of sleek stilettos later, but let's start with the clunky heel until you can lean to navigate in heels. Expect your first steps to be a little awkward, after a short time you will be walking taller and more serene in heels. Consider these your training wheels until you acquire the confidence to solo in something more dramatic. Indeed, all heels naturally re-align the body into a more feminine shape by shifting the weight onto the balls of the feet and pushing the buttocks slightly out. You must remember that your bearing creates the first impression. Jack my goal is to teach you to walk with catwalk confidence."

Jack felt the subtle changes, the reshaping of his legs, thighs and tummy. Flushed with the success of standing Jack tried a single step, and stumbled.

Rose sat Jack back down and lectured, "Dear, you are trying to rush this thing, the first step in learning how to wear high heels is to just stand on them. That way you can work on balancing on your feet when you are not moving. Believe it or not, at times it is harder to stand in heels than it is to walk in them because you can shift your weight back and forth from a walking motion. When you are standing, you have to learn how to balance your weight on both feet. When standing for any length of time put your weight on one leg and thrust your hip out. Use your whole foot and do not try to stay on the ball of the foot. What is important is never lock your knees. You can become lightheaded and we would not want to happen. So the first step to learning how to walk in high heels is to learn how to balance in them by just standing still."

Rose was as excited as a child on Christmas morning. She helped Jack to his feet. Jack complained to Rose the shoes pinched his feet. After only 15 minutes, Jack complained his toes had gone numb. Rose went to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and returned with a glass of water and an ibuprofen and told Jack the anti-inflammatory ingredients would help reduce the swelling in his feet.

Jack bent over as best he could and fiddled with the straps on his heels. He stood and said, "Oh lord have mercy on my feet."

Rose said in an encouraging manner, "Once they stretch out a bit you will love them, trust me on that."

Jack brushed the hair out of his eyes so he could see and peeked into the mirror and thought, 'The shoes are pure agony, but they do wonders for my legs. Would it be so bad if I came to like them?'

"Daisy Belle we are going to start your adventure in high heels by having you just stand in them. This will teach you to balance with your weight distributed on your toes. Practice your posture, throw your shoulders back, and push your pelvis slightly forward. Create the illusion you're leaning back a little, rather than hunching forward. Concentrating on not letting your ankles go all wobbly. It will help you become accustom to a new center of balance. Keep shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Just don't lock your knees. No walking until standing in them becomes natural."

For almost a ten minutes Jack stood erect in his new footwear. Rose constructively advised, "Walk across the room. Stand up straight with your shoulders back. Walk heel to toe with small steps and strides. Remember women walk slower and more graceful than men, think of a slowly flowing stream. Your head must not move, keep it still as you walk. Train yourself to place the heel of the foot down first, then your toes, keep most of your weight balanced on the ball of your foot rather than on the heel. It may feel strange, but keeping much of your weight on the ball of the foot gives you more of an elegant stride. It's almost like walking on your tippy-toes.

"We'll practice as often as possible until you can walk with confidence. Keep legs, feet and knees as close together as you can. Start by taking steps half as long as you would normally. This will be terribly awkward to begin with however over time it will become second nature. Imagine a white line projecting from your position to your destination. Concentrate on stepping on that line. This will produce a womanly wiggle to your hips without having to force it. We don't want a duck walk, so toes should face forward. Your footprints should form a single line. When done quickly, this gives the body that characteristic swing. Make your stride look long and commanding by lifting your lead leg almost in the same fashion a horse would while doing trotting leg extensions. For each stride, you want to lift your foot a good distance off the ground, with a bend in the knee and then place it down in front of the supporting leg. Don't make your strides too large as this will make you look awkward and ungraceful. However avoid taking just baby steps. Remember to swing your hips."

His first steps were tentative and a tad unstable. Jack walked a little bowlegged until he grew confidence. The next half hour was spent strolling about the bedroom in heels.

Jack's dancing background soon became apparent, once he stopped thinking about each movement and let his natural gracefulness takeover he had the walk down like he had been doing it his entire life. He wasn't ready for the catwalk, but he strutted in heels better than most housewives' and his posture was superb.

Satisfied with his progress Rose decided to up the ante. She had Jack swap out his Daisy dress for a cream lace puff sleeve blouse and a solid black casual full length long skirt with an elastic waistband.

"We'll practice here for a few more minutes then we will go down to the living room. You must also learn how to gracefully navigate stairs in a skirt and heels."

The daunting task of stairs caused Jack to pause at the door. Rose crept up behind him and with a quick goose in the butt got him into the hall.

Reaching the top of the staircase first, Rose preceded Jack down and lectured, "Remember that you have to plant your heel and sole on each step of the staircase. Use the handrail for support this first time, or if you must sidestep down."

On the way down the stairs, Rose continued to tutor, "Footwear is a very important part of the personality of any woman. You need to be comfortable while walking in heels. That will come only through practice."

She was on the second to last step when a gasp from Jack made her glance up the stairwell. Jack had clumsily traversed the first two steps, his head down to watch each step and his hands holding his skirt out of the way. As his foot moved toward the third step his long bangs fell across his face momentarily blinding him. Caught off balance and disorientated his foot had apparently tangled in his skirts and he was now teetering precariously.

Rose started up the steps even as Jack wildly flailed his arms reaching for something to save himself. Rose was just in time to catch Jack as he tumbled forward. Grunting under the impact, Rose stumbled back, her foot coming down on nothing but air. Crying out in alarm now herself, Rose braced herself as best she could, they both crashed to the floor, Rose on the bottom, with Jack landing on top.

Jack rolled off Rose and said with concern, "Thanks for catching me. Are you alright, there's a nasty lump under your eye?"

"I'm fine, you clumsy fool." An obviously perturbed Rose murmured with a grimace.

Jack thought, 'She is going to have a hell of a shiner in the morning.'

Rose went to stand and immediately fell back to the floor with a badly sprained ankle. Jack helped her to the divan.

Jack collapsed dejectedly next to her with his head down. Rose gently lifted his chin up with her hand until he was looking into her eyes. Rose instructed, "Remember your posture Daisy Belle."

As she sweetly stroked his cheek she continued, "I want you to know you are not in this alone. As your helpmate, we will ride tandem along your journey on the Estrogen Highway. I'm going to be with you every inch of the way. I promise I will catch you every time you fall."

Jack looked up at his wife and said, "What now?"

"I'm afraid this ankle needs to be seen by a doctor. You'll have to take me to the emergency room."

Jack thought about the way he was dressed and said, "There's no fucking way I'm going out looking like this. You sit right there and I'll call 911."

An ambulance arrived shortly thereafter, between the bump on the head and the possibly broken ankle it was decided to transport Rose to the hospital. Jack hid in the kitchen. Once they were gone he made his way to their bedroom and tried to lose all signs of femininity. He arrived at the hospital just as Rose was being discharged. Jack went to great his wife when he was intercepted by two burly policemen.

"Who are you sir?" They asked.

"I'm her husband."

"Great, we need to talk to. It's a requirement in all suspected spousal abuse cases. We're sure you understand."

For the next 30 minutes the police grilled Jack. They eventually agreed to release his wife to his care, after giving Rose a hotline number to call if she had any more problems.

Arriving home Jack assisted his wife to their bedroom. A bemused Rose withdrew two sets of lingerie slipped on a short pink teddy and handed a sexy lime green sheer chiffon nightgown, with matching panties for Jack to.

Jack took one look at the lingerie and tried to redeem a bit of his masculinity, "Come on darling. This is all going a too far, like I am going to wear that!"

As Rose slipped beneath the sheets, she once again pleaded "I will make you a deal, Tootsie, wear the nightgown for me, and I will give you a night to remember, that's a promise."

Jack responded with "I would rather sleep on the couch."

So he did.

First thing in the morning Steve sought out Fred and handed him a police report. "It's almost as if we had planned it. This is a police report investigating our pigeon for beating his wife. If only he had been caught in drag it would have been perfect."

"Beauty, to me, is about being comfortable in your own skin. That or a kick-ass red lipstick." Gwyneth Paltrow

@ @ @ @

A NOTE REGARDING THIS STORY.
This is a fictional chronicle of a normal hardworking guy named Jack. The federal government made him an offer he couldn't refuse. All they asked was for Jack to go undercover to help the U.S. Government ensnare a terrorist.

Any resemblance of the characters depicted in the story to actual individuals is coincidental. All events are the sole responsibility of the author. None of the scenes in this story depict minors engaged in any sexual encounter.

This story has been previously posted on other sites. It is being posted here with a strong rewrite; some new chapters have been added. I had my BFF Monica Rose edit the material so it should be more readable. Marina

Marina: [email protected]

@ @ @ @

Chapter 5. The Key to Success is Practice.

The harder one works, the luckier he becomes.

Jack stormed off to the couch; he wasn't experienced enough to remove his makeup, figuring he'd do it in the morning. He threw himself onto the divan and tried to go to sleep. Sleep eluded him as he spent a restless night tossing and turning, never really getting comfortable.

He had finally managed to fall into a deep slumber when the warmth on his face told him it was morning. Jack's cracked opened one sleep-blurred eye. Bright sunlight streamed into the window and confirmed that dawn had come. He sat up and felt weak and dizzy, as if he had overindulged last night.

Jack wiped the sleep from his eyes. He noticed the throw pillow he had used was now redecorated in the residue of his war paint. He turned the stained part down, unwilling to deal with that issue now. He stumbled into the bedroom to get dressed for work and check on his wife. Rose was lounging in the bed, sipping on a cup of coffee. Jack had to squint to make out the time on the clock.

"Rose we're going to be late."

"No dear, I've already called the office and taken another personal day off for both of us. We have an entire day to work on developing your girlie side. Take a shower and for God's sake get that gunk off your face. We'll start with another makeup tutorial."

Despite his lack of enthusiasm, Rose had Jack in a dress, girdle, bra, panties, heels and makeup from sunrise to sunset, critiquing and correcting his every gaffe.

Again he refused to wear a night gown so he returned to his living room sofa. Awaking the next morning Jack stood up from his couch bed and was very surprised to feel his legs, ass and back extremely tired from the extended amount of time spent in heels the day before.

Returning to his male persona, Jack checked closely to ensure his makeup was gone. He grumpily got dressed for work.

Rose had a real beauty of a black eye; even her makeup skills couldn't hide it. As Jack and Rose parted company on the elevator, Rose made a speech. She pitched her voice so that it came across as tired and disappointed, intended to appeal to Jack's sense of guilt. "Jack, I am exhausted from fighting you. You promised me you would give this thing your best effort. That's not what I've seen so far. Either you are a man of your word or not. The decision is yours."

Jack spent a good portion of his day pondering what Rose had said and what he had agreed to do. He was perceptive enough to realize he was upsetting Rose. So arriving home that night, he went up to her and said, "Rose, I'm sorry for the way I have been acting. Could you make this wild flower bloom, please? If I am going to do this, I really need your help."

Rose was exuberant, however reluctant to show her true feelings, so she responded, "I don't know Jack. You have been a royal pain, but since you asked so nicely I'll try again. Go, take a bath, soak in my bath oils, I'll come and check on you in a few minutes."

As Jack left for the bath, a satisfied Rose handed him a small box tied up with a large pink bow. Rose stood aside, and waited with a barely concealed eagerness as Jack opened his present. Jack stared in the box with confused doe-eyes. He finally pulled out a pair of My Little Mermaid Panties. Rose gave a wolf whistle and gleefully laughed at the whimsy of her gift. "Daisy, every girl's first pair of big girl panties should be memorable. I spent all day searching for these, aren't they just precious? Put them on, they'll be a little small, after all most 20 something woman aren't into My Little Mermaid. Now squeeze into them so I can lace up your corset. I consulted with a corsetiere; and gave him all your measurements to get it just right."

"Give me a break Rose, panties and a corset; can't we ease into this thing?"

"This is just for starters; this one is a sample he had in stock. I have ordered several more, each getting progressively smaller, in no time at all you have a true Elizabethan figure.

"Honey, everyone knows its worse to slowly ease into cold water. The best way is to just dive in head first and get it over worth. Now put these on, I'll tie you in."

Rose followed Jack and stood like a sentry over him as he did what he was told. After just a token tightening of the corset, Jack thought the worst was over. Boy was he in for a surprise. Rose switched to her authoritative voice and said, "That's a good start put on the outfit hanging in my closet."

"Be sure to fill the bra with the breast forms on the dresser. I got D cups, so we can share bras. Next to them, you'll find another gift. When I was shopping for your outfits I discovered the perfect coming out present for my girlfriend. It's a perfume named 'Daisy.' It is marketed as 'A fragrance for a woman'. I think it smells of a meadow full of wildflowers. It's as if the perfumer created this scent with you in mind. After you get dressed put some on before you come back out for your Grand Entrance."

With a smile on her face Rose said, "I'll be in the living room and fix us both a drink. I'm having scotch, would like some or will you have wine, it's much more lady like, but the decision is yours.

To stop your persistent whining about cramped feet, I have placed several pairs of what can euphemistically be called sensible shoes in your closet. They aren't stylistic footwear, nevertheless they are all W's in your size. Pick out a pair you think will best go with your dress."

Jack said reluctantly, "Getting me drunk isn't going to change who I am you know."

"Well duh! I'm not trying to change who you are. I just want you to be that wonderful person that you are underneath all the self doubt. I've seen your awesomeness from time to time when you aren't trying so hard to be mister macho man. Now put on your pretty ensemble and join me for that drink, you know how I hate to drink alone."

She managed to mute her smile slightly and instructed, "I want you to try your hand at applying your own makeup. Don't forget to tuck your little man and marbles like I showed you. We don't want any unsightly bulges showing in your cute dress."

With a groan on his lips, Jack agreed to his wife's orders, his member wasn't going to be a problem it immediately flat-lined and was easily tucked out of sight. An hour later, Rose was working on her third glass of Scotch; she paced impatiently in the living room waiting on her husband. His appearance was anticlimactic, he had tried his best but the results were less than satisfactory. In fact they were almost amateurish. His outfit turned out to be a leopard print dress, dark tights and white heels. Rose laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes. Her fantasies were shattered. At that moment the enormity of her task struck home. Jack's transformation was going to take a lot of hard work, left to his own devices, he looked ridiculous.

A despondent Jack became upset at Rose's laughter, "Damn it Rose. I am only doing this for you, and you ridicule me, that really hurt my feelings."

Rose gasping for breath managed to squeak out, "Darling. I am sorry if I hurt your feelings, I suspect you have tried your best. The nuances and subtleties of being a woman will take a lot of dedication and hard work. Learning to walk gracefully in high heels and a dress is essential to maximizing your feminine persona. They make you look taller, more slender, and give your outfit instant glamour. It influences how you look physically and your confidence. I was asked to turn you into an eloquent looking woman, however watching your galumphing first steps I was reminded more of Igor, being chased by a crowd of villagers with pitchforks and torches. We will work on it, it will just take longer than I first suspected."

Enjoying her silliness, Rose said, "Let Dr. Frankenstein escort you back to my laboratory. Your efforts are laudable; it shows you were paying attention. I will demonstrate how to do your makeup so you don't scare small children. The objective is to see if we can work out a look where from ten feet away you don't seem to be wearing any makeup. We don't want to produce a Plane Jane. I want my Daisy to look healthy, and sexy, just not smutty. When I get done you are going to be flat out amazed."

Thirty minutes later with a flourish, Rose capped the lipstick that had been her final tool and stood back. "Yessss," she exclaimed in celebration.

"You now look just scrumptious. We could go out right now and as long as you didn't speak no one would have a clue you're a man underneath. I spent a long time selecting the best shade for your lips. I had my doubts but tart red is a good color on you."

"Why's it so important that I look like an actual woman? I thought my target likes female impersonators."

"Jack, I won't have you looking like a caricature of a woman, or worse yet, a drag queen. That would mock women. If we are going to do this, you are going to develop a convincing classy feminine persona, with just a touch of sassy thrown in for good measure."

Jack smacked his lips flamboyantly, laughing as he puckered up to kiss his bride. "I wonder if this stuff, ah…. wears off."

"The tube says Everlasting, so if it does, take the issue up with the manufacture." she cooed softly and made no effort to escape his loving embrace, except to push him to his knees where he could demonstrate his greatest talent.

@ @ @ @

An orgasm later, she asked her kneeling husband, "So, do you like your new look?"

"In all honesty, the smell and taste of the lipstick is intoxicating. The blending of lipstick and your strong musky juices are hypnotic. If I wasn't careful, it could become addicting. However, I have no intention of letting it get that far!"

"Do I get a vote?" Joked Rose as she hugged her husband so hard he could hardly breathe.

A very self-satisfied Rose announced, "Tomorrow, we are going to turn this whole thing around. No more haphazardly jumping from here to there. You know how you eat an elephant, don't you? You devour it one bite at a time. Organizational skills are my specialty, so I am going to attack this problem in a detailed systematic manner. The keys are plan, prepare, execute and then evaluate. When I am done with you, you are going to be able to run for Homecoming Queen."

Running her hand over Jack's body Rose declared, "It's time for another bath. We will start that deforestation project. Take a nice long soak in my lavender bath oils. I will join you shortly."

Twenty minutes later, Jack stood in the tub. Rose stopped him from leaving, "Honey that's only the beginning. Alright, now please remain perfectly still for me. It's time for some fun."

Rose retrieved a bottle of baby oil and a new razor and a curious Jack arched an eyebrow in a form of wonderment. In response to the unspoken question, Rose informed Jack, "No more shaving cream for you, it dries out the skin."

Rose slathered the oil over Jack's entire body spending an inordinate amount of time massaging it in and around his genitals. Meticulously with the razor, she eliminated every trace of hair, from his back, arms, chest, underarms, and legs. Then the only thing left was the pubes. As she got to Jack's crotch, with a wicked smile she looked up and questioned, "Brazilin, or bald? You choose Daisy Bell."

An astonished Jack had no idea what she was talking about, so he stood mute.

Rose snickered and said, "Fine bald it is."

To get little Jackie out of the way, Rose copiously coated her hand in more oil and proceeded to massage it in and around his manhood, with her hands awash in the oil, one hand lovingly cupped his balls and lightly massaged the oil in. Her other was used to coat his penis with large quantities. Rose lightly pumped his prick in one hand while the other concentrated on his scrotum and surrounding territories. Casually, as if by mistake her hand drifted toward his rectum. While stroking his prick Rose slid one finger to his pucker hole, and lightly coated it with the oil. Jack stiffened at that, so Rose concentrated more vigorously on his woody. While he was distracted Rose continued to lubricate the area around his rosebud.

Jack sighed contentedly. Rose laughed while she probed his anus with just the tip of her index finger, and said, "Not so stoic now, are we? If you enjoy that, I have this glorious strap-on dildo left over from my single days called the Magnificent Sultan. Would you be interested in trying him out?"

"Rose, please stop fucking with my head!"

Rose comically replied, "Jack you've got it all wrong. It's not your head I want to fuck."

Rose had him turn around and spread his ass cheeks. She proceeded to shave the hair around and leading to his anus. Then she grabbed the skin on his ball sack and pulled it taut, so she could shave it. When she was finished Jack had never felt so exposed and vulnerable in his life.

"Rose, why did you completely de…de-thatch me? You aren't like that down there."

"Jack, at times you infuriate me. Indecision has always been your Achilles' heel. I gave you the choice, you didn't answer. Like you always do, you left the decision to me, so I selected for you. Sometimes dear, you need to just man up and stop being so damn accommodating!"

Her eyes crinkled with glee, Rose smirked and stood back to examine her nude husband and said, "Jack my dear; I am afraid your face is still way too masculine. No offense intended. We must take advantage of that fact you don't have the manliest physique. We'll need to draw attention away from your face by enhancing your body-shape into a glamorous femme figure. The hip, fanny, waist area and of course the bust will have to be greatly accentuated. I am terribly sorry dear, as of right now you must start a rigid course of corset training."

"You lost me. What is corset training?"

"Corset training or more comely called 'Waist training' is the gradual process of waist reduction using a steel boned corset. Tight-lacing of a corset was a practice made popular in Victorian times. It died out for a while; but has made something of a comeback in recent years. Wearing a tight-lacing corset can radically reduce the waist. Furthermore, the wearing of a corset whilst undertaking a healthy diet helps reduce food volume intake by constricting the internal organs thus helping promote the healthier practice of smaller meals.

Tight-lacing as a means of permanent waist-reduction and re-shaping is a practice requiring discipline and is best achieved when using a traditional steel-boned corset, in combination with eating only a healthy low calorie diet and regular strenuous exercise."

Thus my clueless husband every day, all day, except bath time you will be wearing a corset. We will start right now and remember that from a woman's viewpoint, the curves are nice to have however the pressure and restrictiveness of the corset aren't fun to cope with. You will never be at ease in one. Nevertheless I wouldn't want it so tight you are distressed."

At Jack's grimace she said, "Oh, stop with the sour puss, most of the stories you have heard about corsets are hogwash. I understand your reluctance to wear one. Myths about them said they are uncomfortable and perhaps even a subversive garment. That may have been true in the 19th century, but not today. Give it a try before your throw a hissy fit. A good corset should be comfortable to wear, while at the same time fulfilling the basic requirement of training, molding, and shaping your figure. Corsets are not punishments. They will simply ensure a stately posture and, with gradual adjustments, will even reshape your internal organs.

It isn't all good news; there are some drawbacks, no more bending at the waist. Rather you will learn to use your knees and hips. Wearing a corset day and night is the fastest way to both mentally and physically condition you. I guarantee you will even come to welcome the security of its tight hug."

Starting with the under bust corset, Rose airily chuckled as she kept pulling the laces tighter. "Daisy sweetheart, us girls have to suffer a little to look pretty and the corset training is, by its nature and intended outcome, a labor of love. Without commitment, all efforts will fail. We will start you out slow, then every week we will squeeze it in another inch, that way your body can adjust. After a few months, you will have that perfect wasp waist every girl dreams about. We will add padding where needed later."

Jack wheezed as the corset was tightened yet again. "Rose, you're the spawn of the devil. Any tighter and you'll crack my ribs."

Rose was momentarily concerned by the nasty taunt, but a glance at Jack's face told her that all surliness had been dissolved by the smile on her husband's face.

"That is theatrically possible, though the pain it would cause would be brutal, not just uncomfortable. This will merely give you a Victorian silhouette and cause you to breathe with your upper torso. That is what produces those lovely heaving breasts. I think you'll find standing more comfortable than sitting as your body adjusts to its new shape. Dear, a corset will be an essential item of your wardrobe for the foreseeable future. Suck it up."

Jack's smile quickly turned to a gasp as Rose yanked on the ties yet again and said, "Ahh, now that's better. I think we're done for now!"

He dipped into a curtsy with the grace of a longshoreman and Jack whimsically responded, "Why thank you mistress of misery."

"You're quite welcome young lady now let's go to bed. Your nightgown is on the floor right where you threw it. I am sure you are going to enjoy the feel of the silk against your exposed skin. I have some fun planned for my new girlfriend."

Flouncing around waving his hands in the air, and using a high squeaky falsetto voice Jack sarcastically responded, "Oh goodie, my first slumber party, and it's a sleepover!"

In response to his cynicism Rose countered with, "All right Daisy Bell, for that outburst no dessert for you tonight, it's straight to bed young lady."

Jack replied, "No dessert, I guess I will just have to be content with appetizers!" He swept Rose into his arms and gently carried her to their bed. He knelt and then spent the next half-hour feasting on the nectar from her pleasure garden.

The only comments Jack received from Rose were, "Ooooh, that's it baby, that's the spot, do that again, and again, and again."

@ @ @ @

Boot Camp

The next morning, boot camp began. Rose awoke Jack by a very gentle kiss on the lips. Jack had spent the night dreaming of being free of the tyranny of those stays compressing his midsection. Rose surprised Jack by giving him a printed training schedule.

Rose beamed with pride, "I have been up for hours working on this. I'll keep one posted on the refrigerator so there is no mystery of what is expected of you."

She handed the papers and a pen to Jack who scanned the document and was incredulous. "My God Rose, this is a cross between football preseason and Marine boot camp."

"Just sign the damn thing. For Pete's sake it's not the Magna Carta, it just formalizes your pledge to participate in my training regimen. Let's go over the list to eliminate any confusion. In all seriousness, there is no Aladdin waiting with his genie and magic lamp. You've volunteered to undertake a task that is fraught with danger. Only hard work and dedication will get you through this escapade. The perspiration will be all yours and remember that ladies don't sweat, they glow. I have taken the onus for your education. It's a responsibility that I take seriously. Jack, we are a team. Teaching you to be all the woman you can be is strictly a labor of love. You can only be successful if I succeed and vice-versa. I am optimistic about the eventual outcome. I am convinced there will be a happily ever after for us.

"Now for your training, as I pledged, you will perspire, buckets of it before we are done. I take my promises very seriously! 5 AM is reveille."

"OMG, you're serious, the sun isn't even up at that hour."

"Yes Jack, deadly serious! I have allotted 30 minutes for personal hygiene and dressing - followed by a full hour of physical exercise. We are going to start with Yoga classes later we'll work in aerobics."

"After a quick shower and breakfast, we'll drive to work. I'm combining your lunch with a study hall."

"What the devil do you mean by study hall?"

"Well dear, there are only so many hours in the day. I don't believe we can waste an hour a day letting you goof off. I'll give you a reading assignment every day. You can eat lunch at your desk and study at the same time. After commuting home, you will take a nice soaking bath, where you will shave as required."

"Shaving! I thought I would do that in the morning?"

"Yes Jack, the morning is for your face. At night, we'll shave the rest of your body.

"Of course you must keep up on your culinary skills; therefore from this day forward you will prepare all meals and do the entire cleanup. No more sharing kitchen responsibilities. During dinner, I will coach you on how to eat like a lady. No more gulping large mouthfuls. After cleanup, we will take a break for a cigarette and drink."

"Rose, you know I don't smoke."

"My dear you will, by the time I get done with you. You'll also develop a taste for Vodka. We will follow that with poise and grace lessons. Save the questions. We are talking about teaching you to walk gracefully, stand, sit, and gesture in a feminine manner. Next will be makeup class. Then skin care followed by bedroom recreation. If you have to ask about that we won't be doing it right."

That next morning despite her warning, Jack was surprised that Rose awoke him at 4:55 AM with a kiss on the lips. "What the hell woman, it's still dark out."

"Get out of bed now you lazy bum, our time is limited. We can't afford to waste it sleeping."

"Rose, you'd think I just joined the army."

Laughing, Rose responded, "By the time I am through, you'll wish you had joined the army. Jack, this is serious business. You are about to go on a mission that could cost you your life, and me a husband! I have no intentions of becoming a widow. If it happens, it won't be because you weren't prepared. You have my word on that. Now let's start your training.

"Come on, you have 15 minutes to shit, shower, and shave. This morning for exercise we will start with some basic yoga."

"Rose, what kind of exercise do I need to be a man in a skirt? I am not storming Mt. Suribachi."

"Well darling, your exercise has three goals, obviously it will assist in weight loss, secondly it will improve your flexibility, and lastly we want to significantly improve your gracefulness. I'm going to try and teach you to be as poised as a fashion model. We will be alternating between yoga and dance aerobics. Now any more dumb blonde questions before we get started?"

After a breakfast of dry toast, and coffee the two commuted to work.

On the drive, Rose gave Jack his study assignment, which was 'the proper selection and application of lipstick'.

Rose reiterated, "During your lunch, that will consist of only yogurt, no more sneaking off for a burger and fries. Any breaks during the day, you will go over your study lesson. At night, you will be tested, 'Woe be unto you' if you fail your nightly quiz."

After an uneventful day at work Jack was stripped of his male attire and ushered into a nice hot bath soaking in fragrant oils. Rose guaranteed Jack would eventually develop the skin of a beauty contestant.

At dinner Rose fed Jack what she decreed were to be his daily herbal supplements of Fenugreek, Red Clover and Saw Palmetto. After cleanup, the two girls sat down for their nightly smoke and drink break. Rose had brought home a carton of cigarettes and several bottles of different brands of Vodka. Taking his first cigarette, Jack was appalled, "Yuk, that's it Rose you've gone too far. I don't want to smoke, so I won't do it."

"Jack, listen to me. Both the drinking and smoking are critical components of your new persona, as Daisy Bell. The government man explained it all to me. Your target does both and so if you are ever invited, you must be prepared to join him in a smoke and a friendly drink.

Now I'm running out of patience with all of your grumblings." Rose picked up a pair of tweezers and plucked several hairs from his brows. Jack let out a girly yelp, to which Rose responded, "Sheez, pipe down you big baby. Daisy Bell, you must do whatever I tell you or this will be the consequence every time you delay or complain!"

"Rose you are either a sadist or psycho!"

Satanically Rose leaned over with the tweezers and said, "I am a sadist, pluck, I am a psycho, pluck. Should I keep going Daisy?"

Rose paused and laughed. "Jack this reminds me of my childhood when I would pluck the pedals from a daisy to determine if my latest boyfriend loved me or not. When the last hair is gone, I guess we will know my true nature."

"All right Rose, you win. I'll keep my future observations to myself."

Rose directed Jack into the parlor for his deportment lesson. Rose announced, "By the time we are through, you will find high heels as familiar and comfortable as a pair of sneakers. That's my pledge to you. Darling, poise refers to a whole host of activities, not only how she walks. It involves the way a lady carries herself, her carriage. How she moves, sits, gestures with her hands, and inclines her head, the total of all her mannerisms. If you are serious about creating a feminine illusion, then deportment is the cornerstone."

Going into her professorial mode, Rose lectured Jack, "We will start with some very basics on how to walk with good posture and gracefulness. Stand up straight with your shoulders back, with your corset that shouldn't be hard. Walk heel to toe with small steps and strides. Remember women walk slower and more graceful than men so try to think of a slowly flowing stream. Your head must not move, keep it still as you walk. Train yourself to place the heel of the foot down first, then your toes, keep most of your weight balanced on the ball of your foot rather than on the heel. It may feel strange, but keeping much of your weight on the ball of the foot gives you more of an elegant stride. It's almost like walking on your tippy-toes. The way ballerinas do, but more natural. We will practice as often as possible until you can walk with confidence."

That night, during bedroom recreation, Jack did a particularly good job of orally satisfying his wife. After several orgasms Rose managed to say, "Thanks lover boy, please stop I can't take anymore tonight!"

Jack stared lovingly up from between Rose's legs. He licked her residue off his lips and said "Rose I adore you. I would do anything for you!"

"Jack you are so sweet, I swear I am going to develop diabetes."

The next morning Rose again pushed Jack through his morning exercises. Rose tightened his new waist cincher and measured his tummy. Unsatisfied, she adjusted it tighter twice before she was happy with his dimensions and sent him off to work.

Returning home that evening Jack was allowed to remove the accursed corset and had another soaking bath. In which he pointed out to Rose the red marks caused by his corset. Rose looked them over and was not concerned.

Meals were to become a monotonous experience for Jack. Nothing except dry toast and coffee for breakfast, a container of yogurt for lunch, then the big treat dinner was baked fish alternating with tofu turkey, always accompanied by fresh vegetables and a salad.

One evening, Jack headed to the kitchen to make dinner. Rose stopped him. "Jack you have been doing such a marvelous job. Take the night off, I'll make supper tonight. Go pour each of us a glass of wine. Just sit, I'll serve dinner when it's ready."

Making the meal Rose easily slipped his daily valium tablet into the food. He had been on a steady diet since day one. Rose placed only a green salad in front of a starving Jack, lecturing, "Remember dainty", don't pour large quantities of dressing on the salad. Simply dip your empty fork in the dressing then spear a small bit of lettuce. Drag the food off the fork with your teeth, not the lips, which will help preserve the lipstick. Then put the fork down and chew. The wine is drunk in tiny sips only."

Later while they were taste testing the different vodkas, Rose started Jack's formal feminine fashion education. They talked for an hour about the extras that make an outfit. Jack learned how mixing and matching earrings, scarves, belts, necklaces, and purses can completely change an outfit.

Rose was finishing her second double vodka and Jack was coughing his way through another cigarette when Rose brought out Jack's outfit for the nights' training.

"Daisy, from this moment on, anytime you are in my house you will comport yourself as a lady. Anything less will be dealt with harshly!"

Rose tightened Jack's corset for the nights' lesson. She said, "Now with your new figure I am going to let you wear my favorite outfit. It's a lovely silver-gray soft silk blouse with a high neck and long flowing sleeves. Complemented by a tight fitting black skirt that comes to just above the knees."

To prove her point about accessories, Rose added a wide leather belt with a large square buckle, pearl clip on earrings and a black shoulder bag purse. Then Rose handed Jack a shoe box. Looking inside Jack found black patent leather sandals with a two inch heel and open toe. Putting the shoe on Rose had to assist in buckling the large ankle strap. By now Jack was doing his own makeup and thought that he and gotten fairly good at presenting himself as a woman.

With the aid of an alcohol haze Rose seemed to momentarily forget it was her husband sharing the table. That night Rose chatted about what things were like when she was growing up, the boys she dated, her first sexual awakens at 15, the usual girlfriend stuff - certainly not husband and wife banter! Jack had nothing to contribute but he was nevertheless enthralled by his wife's revelations.

Properly costumed the couple retired to the living room for an hour of decorum training. "Daisy, remember when walking as a woman always look straight forward. Don't look down at your feet. Focus on an object straight ahead of you. Keep your chin and your eyes up. Keep your head and shoulders still as your body moves. Glide like an ice skater. Remember women's shoulders stay still when walking. The best way to accomplish that is to try and pull your shoulders blades together. If you stop the shoulders moving you will find the rest of your walk will look and feel a lot more feminine. By keeping shoulders still you'll make your hips sway when striding. When practicing, exaggerate the hip swing from side to side. Jack, you can always calm it down later just make sure you practice in an exaggerated fashion so you know what it looks and feels like. Deliberately over-emphasize your hips' undulation. Shoulders are always back. Watch your arm swing, woman's arms swing more from her elbows down.

When standing, don't forget the principles you used in walking. It's very important to retain your new improved posture. Remember, chest out and shoulders back; turn your palms outward in an open position, this helps keep the shoulders squared. Stand with arms close to the body. Your right foot should point straight ahead as if towards the 12 on a clock and then the left foot pointing to the 10. Slowly shift all the weight to the left foot while at the same time slightly bending the knee of the right foot. This is a much more relaxed and feminine stance than a male stance."

An hour and 300 hundred expletive filled corrections later, Rose continued, "Jack that's enough for tonight. It's time to move on to makeup."

Deportment training was a cakewalk compared to the makeup instruction. Jack found mascara a little challenging; eye shadow was fairly simple although the proper application of liquid eyeliner was far outside his competence. He painted it on a dozen times and removed it an equal number. Each attempt ended up looking garish. Jack, who hated failing at anything, was left frustrated and even a little ashamed. Finally, in exasperation he complained he just couldn't get this makeup thing.

"Rose give me a break, we've had this discussion before. Let me use the eyeliner pencil, I can handle that."

The night ended in a tense truce as Rose explained how liquid liner was used when you wanted a more dramatic effect. She demonstrated one more time how to apply it.

Thursday night, Jack had become frustrated yet again, it was the fourth time he had tried the liquid eyeliner. His latest attempt resulted like the preceding ones in total disaster, with him looking cartoonish. He turned to Rose and said "That's it. I just can't get it."

Jack waited for the expect blowup. Rose surprisingly said "Fine lets go to bed, I really need you tonight."

Exuberant at his good luck; Jack assumed his customary position with his head buried between Rose's thighs. 30 minutes and several climaxes later, her lust satisfied Rose became very detached and almost clinical. She pushed Jack away and said "Thanks. I'm tired let's go to sleep."

Jack stood and in wonderment asked, "What about me?"

Rose stuck her head from under the covers and pointed to the bathroom, "Be a good boy and go take a cold shower. Your little mischief-maker won't be coming out to play anytime soon. I need my beauty rest. Besides, I hear celibacy is good for the character."

A frustrated Jack climbed into bed and laid there, horny and desperate for relief. Rose slept satisfied and contented next to him. Night after night he serviced Rose until she was satisfied. Jack quickly learned cold showers were to be the norm for him. Rose was certainly a hard task master. His needs or wants were never discussed.

Friday evening when it was time for his cosmetology lesson, she sat him down for a talk. "Jack, my dear, I am sadly disappointed in you. Your efforts so far have been uninspiring and sometimes downright lazy. If you can't take a little pressure, then it's on you, not me. Now you need to toughen up and put forth a better effort."

Rose handed Jack a pile of papers with instructions to sign the last page and not to forget to include the tuition check. Flabbergasted Jack started down at an enrollment form by the name of Daisy Sokolov for Kimberly Ann's Beauty Institute and Tattoo Parlor.

A jocular Rose said, "Well darling we seem to have three options. On the one hand, we can send you to cosmetology school. Or as an alternative, we can go to my beauty salon and have permanent makeup applied. Or you can get back to practicing! Here is a new container of waterproof liquid eyeliner. Let me know what you decide."

The days all ran together and then, finally, it was Saturday. Jack awoke and thought, 'Thank goodness for weekends'. Rose returned from the bathroom and found Jack still lounging in bed. She declared, "Here honey, let me help you get dressed. We will start with tightening your corset; you have a full day of cleaning ahead of you."

"C'mon darling", Jack said "This is all going a bit far. A joke's a joke! Why can't we just say you've had your little laugh, and I can go back to sleep? This is my day of rest."

Rose retorted with, "No way, Alice, you are going to work until I get tired. Now get out of bed. I'm sorry dear, you must learn a woman's work is never done. The best way to do that is to take up the position as my new maid. Aside from your daily kitchen chores, every Saturday you will clean the entire house, by yourself. Once you have vacuumed, cleaned, scrubbed and dusted you get the privilege of doing our laundry. Now before you complain, remember since I am nice enough to share my clothes, the least you can do is wash and iron them."

"Rose you never ironed anything, why should I?"

"Jack, our clothes were not ironed because I never had a maid. Now I do, so things are going to change."

"Oh, Jack it looks like you are about to cry on me. Buck up and let's get to work. How many times do I have to remind you? We only have a very limited period to get you ready. We can't afford to take days off."

"Rose you are taking the day off, that doesn't seem fair."

"Fair? Was it fair when you went and watched your stupid football games while I stayed home and cleaned the house? Just consider this a means of equalizing our karmas. Now get your ass into gear!"

As the dinner dishes were being put away, Jack commented, "Now I know how Cinderella felt about her mean stepmother."

Despite the sarcastic comment, Rose remained in a jovial mood. Grinning impishly, Rose said, "Come on Cinderella, put on your glass slipper and join me in bed before the clock strikes 12, and you turn into a pumpkin. There is one more item that needs taking care of. I know how you like sweets, so as a special reward for all your hard work. I am going to grant you private access to my honey pot! Of course if you are not interested, I have had another offer. Would you mind, having Mike over for the night?"

To hell with the glass slipper. This Cinderella is going to need some running shoes.

@ @ @ @

A NOTE REGARDING THIS STORY.
This is a fictional chronicle of a normal hardworking guy named Jack. The federal government made him an offer he couldn't refuse. All they asked was for Jack to go undercover to help the U.S. Government ensnare a terrorist.
Any resemblance of the characters depicted in the story to actual individuals is coincidental. All events are the sole responsibility of the author. None of the scenes in this story depict minors engaged in any sexual encounter.
This story has been previously posted on other sites. It is being posted here with a strong rewrite; some new chapters have been added. I had my BFF Monica Rose edit the material so it should be more readable. Marina

Marina: [email protected]

@ @ @ @

Chapter 6 – The First Pow Wow

"People who enjoy meetings should not be in charge of anything." - Thomas Sowell

Rose drove her car to the first formal strategy meeting with Agent Steve Garibaldi. She was looking forward to their private summit where she was sure she could manipulate him into a more favorable deal. Ever since she had begun to develop physically in high school, there hadn't been a single straight man she couldn't dominate in a test of wills. That is why she had changed clothes upon leaving work into her pleated black mini skirt. Her selection for shoes was easy, a pair of open toed red pumps with 5 inch heels. A nice form-fitting halter top that showed a little but not too much was the perfect top. To complete her outfit a pretty drop necklace, with a tear drop jewel on the end that settled nicely in the valley of her breasts.

Rose pulled her car into a dimly lit gravel parking lot. Not believing her eyes, she double checked her GPS. 'There is no way he would select some redneck bar to meet me,' thought Rose. Rose had dressed in anticipated of a nice cozy cocktail lounge. She maneuvered her car between a dozen pickup trucks, most with gun racks and confederate flags proudly displayed in the rear windows and found an empty spot near the front entrance with its flashing neon Booze Cafe sign. Rose reached into her purse pulled out a tube of bright red lipstick applied a thick coat then layered it with lip gloss and waited to see what would happen.

Within minutes, a nondescript gray sedan pulled up adjacent to Rose's Car. Agent Garibaldi exited the vehicle dressed in dark slacks and an open collar white dress shirt. Even in the poor lighting, Rose could discern the arrogant look on his face. Steve hurried to her door, but Rose didn't wait on him, rather she opened her own door and pivoted in her seat, swung her long legs out of car intentionally showing off her best feature. She stood and pulled up the elastic waist of her skirt. She waited in a classic model pose, her ankles together, feet at 45 degree angle, and her chest prominently pushed out. As Steve approached she said in a soft seductive voice, "Hello there, glad to see you again." She held her hand out expecting a hand shake. Steve merely brushed it aside and wrapped his arms around her in a full hug. With her nose pressed against his chest, Rose enjoyed the scent of Steve's cologne. He was the one that broke the embrace, rather than Rose.

Without further words, Steve held out his arm, Rose took the crook of the arm and the couple moved toward the door. In the gravel parking lot, Rose immediately regretted her selection of shoes. Steve pushed open the door and led her into the saloon. The couple paused just long enough to let their eyes adjust to the change in lighting. As they stood in the doorway, there was a murmur of subdued talk; every eye in the place was focused the two overdressed strangers. Steve visually swept the room with a brief comprehensive glance. It told him, there were no immediate threats. He recognized no one there, and it was unlikely anyone knew him. Rose noticed the bar was lined with tough hard men, obviously accustomed to making a living with their muscles. She spotted a smattering of what she assumed were 'working girls' flaunting their wares among the tables.

Rose's attention was drawn to the deer head mounted over the bar, something about the glassy eyes that stared down at her, sent a chill through her. As she waited for Steve to move, that deer disturbed her more than the leers of the bar patrons.

In a possessive gesture, Steve took Rose by the hand and led her through the room to an empty table on the patio. Rose felt herself being ogled as they crossed the room. Rose could feel everyone mentally undressing her with their eyes. Reaching the empty table Steve was a perfect gentleman, and held her chair for her.

A waiter showed up, his tone was rather sharp, "Whatcha drinkin?" Without asking Rose's preference, Steve ordered a Scotch for each of them. Rose sat as her hair blew in the wind and studied Steve's face and watched his eyes drift down to her cleavage, which fit in perfectly with her plans; she leaned in a little to give her companion a better view and hopefully distract him. She assumed an attitude that she anticipated would intimidate her companion. She glared at him in a haughty manner reminiscent of a queen lofting it over a lowly servant. She started out by saying, "Let's get right down to business shall we. When and how are you going to pay me?"

Steve took a sip of his drink and replied, "You will be paid twice a month, on the first and fifteenth, the money will come in the mail via postal money order made out to Rose Sokolov. I will personally draw the money from accounting and mail the money order. Your name will never appear on any government documents. That way there will be no traceable trail back to HLS."

"Steve, we need to talk about the amount. I have been thinking about what we agreed to, and I am now convinced that amount is insufficient. I want to be compensated for my time and effort as well; I think $100 an hour would be appropriate."

Steve laughed and said, "That is poppycock and you know it! We have a deal and I am holding you to it."

His refusal to renegotiate was tantamount to a declaration of war. Rose thought she could always threaten to withdraw from the program at a later date to entice more money out of the government.

Steve leaned in toward Rose and enjoyed the fragrance of her perfume. His gaze focused on the mounds of inviting flesh that were his companion's breasts. Creating an ache in his groin that made concentration difficult. Forcing his thoughts away from Rose and back to the mission he said, "Let's talk about your responsibilities. Our target doesn't want a swishy fairy. To protect his manly image, our mark requires his companions to be totally passable as women."

"There must be other men out there with more delicate features and more easily transformed, than my husband."

"Of course there are. An exterior makeover is the easy part. A few surgeries and our doctors could turn any man into a beauty queen. It's not so simple to get a man to develop mannerisms and attitudes of a woman, to the point he can pass as a genetic woman in a public setting. That is where you come in. We need you to teach Jack not only how to look like a woman; but to act like an intelligent confident woman who has had her heart recently broken by her spouse. In addition he needs to present himself as someone who is happy and at home in his femininity. We're convinced you're capable of teaching Jack to be that person."

Steve took a long pull on his drink and made a pronouncement, "Your husband is a strong man."

Rose couldn't help herself, she laughed out loud as she remembered all the times Jack had to seek her help to open stubborn jar lids.

Embarrassed by her actions, Rose tried to recover, "I guess the government isn't all knowing, my husband is a lot of things but strong isn't one of them. He often has to partially unload grocery bags to get them out of the trunk of the car."

Steve responded, "You misunderstood. I wasn't referring to physical strength. We have a team of physiologists studying both you and Jack. He is smart and extremely adaptive. We believe he'll not easily be molded into the passive, submissive personality needed to appeal to our target. Our experts are convinced he draws his strength of personality from his relationship with you. That relationship must be stretched to the breaking point. In fact, I personally believe we need to cut the umbilical cord of love to free him from his dependence on you."

Rose's expression changed from curiosity to one of concern, "How do you envision that happening?"

Steve made no attempt to disguise the fact he was leering at Rose's breasts. "Don't be naïve the oldest way of course, infidelity. The key is to keep him off guard."

Rose picked up her drink and sipped on it to hide her discomfort. Steve leaned back and was balancing his chair on two legs as he continued, "You are going to have to bring that relationship into doubt for him. The easiest way is to make him think you are having an affair. Don't tell me an attractive woman like you has never considered having a little extramarital adventure."

Rose felt her cheeks blush a deep red, "I have thought about it, of course. There have been times I have been strongly tempted. However imagining something and actually doing it are two different things. To paraphrase my favorite TV character, Mr. Spock, 'having something is never as satisfying as wanting it'."

Rose picked up her drink and took a sip to buy herself some time as she thought, 'There are several men and a few women at the office that would make interesting bed partners. I wonder if my conscience will allow for a brief dalliance, if I did it in the name of national security.'

"Come on Rose. You can't tell me a sensual woman like you is satisfied with a wimp of a husband."

Rose leaned toward Steve and wagged her finger at him, "Listen Mister Secret Agent Man, you don't know anything about my husband. Is he perfect? No, of course not. His biggest fault is that he always sees the best in people. How many men can you say that about? I picked him out my last year in college and decided we were going to get married. I always get what I want. So I let him chase me until I caught him. We have been happily married ever since. When we graduated from school I had a dozen job offerings. Jack was technically proficient and had good grades, he went on several interviews but his lack of interview skills got him passed over in each one. I agreed to come to Software R Us, on the condition they hire him as well. It would destroy him if he ever found that out. Don't let his appearance fool you. He is more of a man than anyone I have ever known. At the risk of sounding apocalyptic, it sounds to me like you are using my husband as bait in your fishing expedition. I'm not all that familiar with the sport; but it seems to me the bait doesn't normally fair very well. If you hurt him I'll hunt you down and make you wish you'd never been born! I have plans on how our life is going to play out. I'm using this opportunity to achieve my ends."

Steve brought his chair back to all four legs and played with the coaster on the table. "Well...give the affair idea some more thought, the suggestion comes from of the best minds in the government. You can pretend and just drop hints; however it would be more convincing if you actually had a brief fling. I was thinking you should have an affair, with someone who would devastate your husband's ego. The two most obvious examples being your boss or I was thinking someone like me might work. There's a motel right up the highway. We could be there in ten minutes."

Rose had just ingested a large sip of her whisky. The vulgar suggestion caused her to choke the alcohol squirted out her nose and ran down her lip. Steve nonchalantly picked up his glass and took a long drink. Before she could vocalize her thoughts, Steve reached across the table and with his finger wiped the moisture off her upper lip.

He pulled back his finger and sucked the liquid off it saying, "I hate to waste good whiskey."

Rose eyes grew dark with anger and her nostrils flared. "It seems to me you have just stepped over the line there buster!"

"Well maybe I stopped on the line, but two consenting adults have a little intimate tête-à-tête is hardly stepping over the line."

The heat of her rage changed to an eruption of fury. She leapt to her feet in shock at the audacity of the man. The elastic waistband of her dress caught on the curlicue wrought iron arm rest and tore causing her dress to end up around her ankles. Rose stood proud like a queen refusing to acknowledge the awkwardness of the situation; but wishing to hell she had worn panties for the roundivious.

Rose calmly said to the gawking man, "See anything you like?" She bent and picked up her purse and held it strategically to her front. She glared at Steve and dared him to so much as smile at her discomfort.

When Steve broke out in a deep throated chortle, Rose lost it. She swung a roundhouse slap directed at his arrogant face. Steve casually parried the blow with his forearm, throwing Rose completely off balance.

She started to fall as Steve caught her in his arms, their faces mere millimeters apart. Rose was sure he would kiss her. However, Steve surprised her yet again as he casually picked Rose up and carried her to the waist high fence that enclosed the patio and gently placed her over it. To the startled Rose he said, "I didn't think you would want to exit through the bar in your birthday suit. The sidewalk will lead you back to your car."

Once Steve was assured Rose had regained her footing, he egotistically commented, "Careful Rose, I think you are falling in love with me."

Rose rebutted, "Why you conceited, contemptible SOB, I never."

He went back and picked up her skirt that was still entangled with the chair and handed it to her.

Rose took the remnants of her skirt, and faced the agent. She calmly stepped back into her skirt with as much dignity as she could muster. She pulled it up and held the skirt in place.

"Think about my offer, I get government rates at the motel. I'll be in touch. Nice bush by the way. After you calm down, we can discuss this some more, I'll contact you. We'll be seeing a lot of each other as this thing progresses."

Steve turned and walked back into the bar. Slinging her handbag over her shoulder, she turned to watch Steve step through the doors and Rose thought, 'He may be a bastard; but admittedly a handsome one. The view from behind is just as good as the one from the front.'

Rose stood there staring after him, quivering with anger or some other emotion less easily understood. Rose, less her dignity, stormed back to her car. Daisy was going to get it tonight, she was pissed and had to take her anger out on someone.

With mixed emotions, she made her way back to her vehicle. She drove home, her knuckles white with anger, as she fiercely grabbed the steering wheel. She took the time to work on a plan to get to the bedroom without Jack seeing her disheveled appearance.

"Man may have discovered fire, but women discovered how to play with it."
Candace Bushnell

@ @ @ @

A NOTE REGARDING THIS STORY.
This is a fictional chronicle of a normal hardworking guy named Jack. The federal government made him an offer he couldn't refuse. All they asked was for Jack to go undercover to help the U.S. Government ensnare a terrorist.
Any resemblance of the characters depicted in the story to actual individuals is coincidental. All events are the sole responsibility of the author. None of the scenes in this story depict minors engaged in any sexual encounter.
This story has been previously posted on other sites. It is being posted here with a strong rewrite; some new chapters have been added. I had my BFF Monica Rose edit the material so it should be more readable. Marina

Marina: [email protected]

@ @ @ @

Chapter 7. Rose spends day with Mike.

Regarding sexuality, Men are like microwaves, while woman more closely resemble crock pots.

Monday morning, Rose slid into the driver's side of the car and handed Jack a folder saying, "Today's topic du jour will be eye makeup. Here's your reading material. It's an article from Teen Girl magazine, 'Basic eye makeup selection and application'. The topics will become more intricate as we move along."

Arriving at the elevator, she Kkssed Jack lightly on the lips, and sent him off with, "I'll stop by at lunch to answer any questions you might have and to check to make sure you aren't goofing off. Have a good day, my little turtle dove."

Jack was terrified at the prospect of disappointing Rose, so he took notes at lunch to ensure he had the main points. Rose never materialized as promised and Jack pondered the significance of that. The drive home was spent in total silence, Jack mentally prepping for his possible examination while Rose seemed lost in world of thought.

Arriving home Jack immediately headed to the bathroom and ran filled the tube with water as hot as he could stand it. Rose stepped in only long enough to fill the tub with sweet smelling bath oil. Jack soaked until his fingers started to look like prunes, as he exited the bath, Rose was there to assist him in dressing for his nightly routine.

"I gave this a lot of thought on the drive home. I'm convinced that from this point on, it is best that all the time you are home you should always be in high heels, bathing and sleeping the only exceptions. Is that understood?"

"Why, what did I do?"

"Sweetheart, this isn't a punishment. We need to get you accustomed to heels as you are to loafers; we have a lifetime of neglect to make up for."

An amenable Jack merely agreed, "Yes dear, that makes sense."

After a normal dinner, they sat for the nightly drink, where Jack again mentioned how much he hated the idea of smoking, calling it a dirty habit.

Rose lectured, "Listen to me. A woman smoking if done correctly, can make her look very sophisticated. It's not about just inhaling smoke; it's more about the presentation. We will get into that later, for now get accustomed to drawing the smoke into your mouth and blowing it out as sinuously as possible. Make it a game."

Rose took Jack's hands in hers and spoke plainly, "I'm happy you have stopped actively resisting your training; however I'm running out of patience with all the negativity. I'm your mentor into the nuances of femininity, not your adversary! Who has all the experience in a woman's behaviors and motivation? Certainly not you! I'm the duty expert here, follow my advice, I don't need you second guessing my every decision. Just fucking do what you're told!"

"Yes dear, whatever you say," Said Jack timidly as he puffed on his cigarette.

As the week went on Jack noticed a change in Rose. She was as authoritative as always about his training. Only now the two were talking a lot more. It's not like they didn't talk before but now it has taken on a different flavor. It is more superior to subordinate rather than conversations between equals.

That night Jack had done a particularly good job of satisfying his wife. With Jack kneeling between her legs, a contented Rose stared down at her kneeling husband, held her hand out to help him up and praised him with, "All right dear you can get up now, that was wonderful."

Rose patted the bed next to her. Indicating she wanted Jack to sit. He did and Rose knelt on the floor and helped him out of his hose. His aroused state was quite noticeable. Smiling she said, "Your turn will come, just not now."

Rose examined the hose closely as if looking for run; she threw them in the general direction of the laundry hamper and spoke to her husband who was sitting rigidly in his corset his hands folded in his lap, afraid he had done something wrong. "Sweetheart, I have an errand for you to run tomorrow. While shopping for groceries, make sure you pick up a few extra pantyhose, you are going to be spending so much time on your knees you will be wearing holes in all our current supply. Make sure they are Queen Size – pun intended," Said Rose lightheartedly.

While shopping for groceries, after checking the size chart twice, Jack tossed six pairs of pantyhose in his shopping cart. Then giving it a bit more thought, he upped the quantity to an even dozen. This was the first time Jack was truly glad that the grocery store used the automated checkouts, so he wouldn't have to face the questing looks of the checkout girl.

At home, Rose lectured Jack, "Tonight's lesson is on sitting." Rose assumed her professorial attitude and directed. "Now sitting seems like something really basic – we spend a good deal of the day sitting – nevertheless it's astonishing how few women know how to sit like a lady in a formal situation. Here's how it will go from now on, like wearing your heels, this will be a full time requirement. It must become second nature to you to sit in an effeminate manner, when you leave here for your mission, flopping into a chair like a man with your legs splayed apart would only confirm you are no lady, only a tramp trying to advertize her potential delights would sit like that. One slip up in the way you sit could destroy all our other hard work."

Rose demonstrated as she spoke. "Position yourself with the back of your calves next to the chair.

"Bend at the hips and knees.
"Smooth your skirt under you, keeping your legs together at all times.
"Then swivel into position.
"Sit down with your legs straight in front of you.
"Angle your knees to either side, left or right, whatever your preference.
"Cross your ankles.
"If there is no table, always fold your hands together in your lap."

Gesturing at Jack that it was his turn, she stood aside and observed his performance. "Regardless of whether you're crossing your legs at the knee, the thigh or the ankle, posture is the icing on the cake that will transform you from one of 'those girls' to a lady. Take care when sitting: Sitting down and standing again can be very tricky in heels and needs practicing otherwise it will be a giveaway when you're out on your own."

To practice keeping his knees together, Rose came up with a little game. Jack was made to sit with his back ramrod straight. Rose placed a crisp new dollar bill between his knees. Jack had to hold it by pressing his knees together. The game continued until Jack could hold the bill for a full fifteen minutes without it slipping out.

"Jack, this is something you can practice at work. When you sit, always run your hand over your trousers, so they won't wrinkle. Then sit as ladylike as possible, good firm posture and knees firmly pressed together. From now on, that is how you'll sit, whether at your desk, in the car, or in meetings. Am I clear on this issue?"

"Rose, won't that make me look like a sissy?"

"So what's your point? Jack, you are either deaf or totally clueless. Half of the office, already views you as effeminate. It'll just give them something else to gossip about."

Jack didn't know how to process that so he just kept quiet. The week passed without incident and it was Saturday morning of the second week. That morning Rose seemed to take great delight in cinching Jack into his corset. It took considerable effort; but as promised she drew it in an inch less than the previous week. Rose and Jack sat in the kitchen for a light breakfast. As Jack served Rose her eggs, she stood and went to the liquor cabinet where she poured herself a shot of Yukon Jack. At that point, poor Jack knew it was going to be a very long day. Having finished her breakfast Rose was relaxing on the patio with her second drink of the morning when the phone rang. Jack was on his knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. He got to his feet, wiped his hands on his apron and answered the phone.

A puzzled Jack called out to his wife, "Rose, Mike's on the phone and wants to talk to you."

Rose entered the kitchen and took the hand set. She paused and waited for Jack to leave. He remained standing and wondered why their boss would be calling on a Saturday. Rose looked at Jack, shooing him away she said, "Honey, don't you have work to do? Please I'd like some privacy."

A crestfallen Jack backpedaled around the corner and stopped to eavesdrop.

"Yes Mike, that was Jack. Stop that Mike, for your information he can be very forceful…Stop laughing Mike, I'm serious."

Rose listened for a while without saying anything and eventually continued, "Yes, I know I often use that term when I refer to him, however as his wife, I have some rights that you don't. Please Mike, don't say that! I think he is more trusting than gullible."

Chuckling, Rose continued, "Mike, you're embarrassing me. No we can't do that. Remember I'm a married woman."

After a brief pause, she went on, "Alright, I understand, calm down, there is no need for that kind of language."

After a long gap, Rose continued in a serious tone, "You win, give me 30 minutes to change and I'll meet you there."

A curious Jack inquired, "Rose, what's going on?"

"Oh, Mike and I have to entertain some clients today. You do your chores and I'll inspect the house when I get home. Let's be honest Daisy, this will be the first time you'll be on your own."

Then, in a lighthearted manner, Rose concluded, "Be a good girl and try to stay out of trouble."

Then in a more serious tone she added, "The house had better be spotless when I return. This is an excellent opportunity, for you to apply all I have taught you. I want to see what you can do when I'm not here supervising!"

@ @ @ @

"When will I be home? Jack, what's with the inquisition? Since when did I need your permission to come and go? I'll be home when I get here! If I'm going to be late I'll phone."

An apprehensive Jack meticulously completed every chore on his list. With time still on his hands, he decided to clean the stove. Dinner time came and went with no word from Rose. To pass the endless hours, Jack emptied the refrigerator and scrubbed it spotless. He then vacuumed the entire house again, just to pass the time.

Every time Jack attempted to contact Rose on her cell phone it went directly to voice mail. With no other housework to do, Jack decided to surprise his wife; he put dinner in the oven to keep warm. He selected a bottle of Roses' favorite wine and put it in the fridge to chill and then went to the bedroom to select something sexy Rose would enjoy seeing him in.

A very apprehensive Jack put on a plum colored chemise nightie and carefully applied his makeup trying to remember everything Rose had taught him. Jack tried to accomplish an alluring look. He labored for a good five minutes trying to select the perfect shade of lipstick and eye shadow to compliment his nightie. After selecting what he determined was the ideal colors, he spent several minutes on his lip liner trying to get the cupid bow just right, and then using a sealer to keep everything in place. After a good thirty minutes Jack thought, 'Voila! That's the best I've ever done. I hope Rose is pleased with my efforts.'

Finally, the coup de grace, a spritz into the air of his Daisy perfume and a quick walk through. Jack settled into bed to wait for his wife intending on a romantic evening.

It was well after dark, and the dinner Jack had prepared was completely dried out. Jack had dumped it in the trash and returned to the bedroom when her heard a car pull into the garage. An animated Rose came into their bedroom with a triumphant smile on her flushed face, her hair disheveled and one of the straps of her dress had fallen off of her shoulder. The other just barely held on. She ran headlong into a disgruntled husband.

"Oh, Jack what a marvelous day."

"Have you any idea what time it is?"

Glancing at the bedside alarm clock she responded with, "I had no idea it was that late. Sorry I forgot to call. I was just so busy it slipped my mind. Oh God my legs and ass hurt! It was up and down and in and out all day long until finally everyone was satisfied. It was enough to wear a girl out."

Jack bit his lip and fought back tears, "Please explain that!"

"Jack, you annoy me sometimes. I never thought you were the suspicious type. I'm your wife, you should trust me. You know I'm a driven woman, and will do whatever it takes to get ahead in business. Today, I was the designated hostess. I was up and down all day serving Mike and the clients, in and out of the hotel room down to the business office. What did you think I meant?"

Jack meekly apologized and watched his wife get undressed for bed. When Rose dropped her skirt, Jack let out a gasp as he observed she wasn't wearing any underpants. He panicked and started to hyperventilate. Shaking with rage and with venom in his voice Jack demanded an explanation, "Rose, what the fuck is going on? You're a married woman, not some common whore!"

"Jealousy is the fear of comparison." Max Frisch

@ @ @ @

A NOTE REGARDING THIS STORY.

The violence in this chapter is intended to illustrate the viciousness of Vladimir, this is not the focus of the chapter.

This is a fictional chronicle of a normal hardworking guy named Jack. The federal government made him an offer he couldn't refuse. All they asked was for Jack to go undercover to help the U.S. Government ensnare a terrorist.

Any resemblance of the characters depicted in the story to actual individuals is coincidental. All events are the sole responsibility of the author. None of the scenes in this story depict minors engaged in any sexual encounter.

This story has been previously posted on other sites. It is being posted here with a strong rewrite; some new chapters have been added. I had my BFF Monica Rose edit the material so it should be more readable. Marina

Marina: [email protected]

@ @ @ @

Chapter 8 – Battle between Good and Evil

"...true evil needs no reason to exist, it simply is and feeds upon itself." E.A. Bucchianeri

The room was momentarily quiet except for the drumming of a strong tattoo of rain on the roof of the abandoned warehouse. Jess Falk sat unconscious, lost in a wonderful dream. He was wrestling with his 10-year-old son in their front yard. Then the pain started again. Being tied securely to the metal chair, there was nothing Jess could do but scream uselessly into his gag. Vladimir delighted in the man's suffering as he extinguished his lighted cigarette into the captive's left nipple.

The muscle-bound henchman asked, "Comrade, do you want me to take the gag out so he can talk?"

"No Boris," Vladimir began, "He has already given us everything he's got. I am convinced he acted out of bureaucratic conscientiousness, not because he recognized Dmitry's connection with me."

"We must come to an arrangement with our contacts in the motherland's FAPSI. They are not as professional as the FBI, and are still full of officials that are susceptible to manipulation. We need to get Dmitry's criminal record to disappear so this won't happen again. Have our intermediaries arrange for the payments. It is sad, but payoffs are an unavoidable cost of doing business in Russia today."

The hapless captive moaned annoyingly.

"Boris, he really pissed me off. He shouldn't have turned down Dmitry's request for an extension on his visa. I bet the next government agent thinks twice before he defies one of my people. The fool should never have threatened to report us when we offered him a 'gift.' Then he insulted me, when he called our 'Blat' a bribe, it was only a small tribute to grease the wheels. These Americans are so naive about the ways of the world."

Vladimir stared down at the bloody stumps of what were Falk's fingers and said, "I tell you Boris, these Americans are not men, I pull out two or three fingernails and they bawl like a baby. A Russian would never beg for his life like this guy."

Vladimir seemed to enjoy the process so much that he often scared Boris. Boris took a step back from the growing blood pool and thought, 'The level of violence used against this poor guy was totally unnecessary. He was singing like a canary almost from the start. We knew everything about him, but his hat size within 15 minutes.'

"Boris, call our attorney to fight Dmitry's deportation order. Negotiations for this operation are at a critical stage and we can't afford to replace Dmitry. He is my primary handler for all of our sleeper agents that we are activating for those bastard Arabs."

Boris nodded in agreement. It wasn't wise to disagree with the boss Vladimir.

"Boss, do I understand right, they want to bring down the bridge in Frisco?"

"Da, Arab men are under too much scrutiny by the police. So using nondescript Americans for this project seems ideal. Dmitry has had our people scouting the targets for weeks. The difficult part will be to coordinate the west coast attack with a simultaneous assault on the Brooklyn Bridge. Unfortunately it means we will lose our people as they will unwittingly 'volunteer' to become martyrs."

Boris wanted nothing to do with becoming a martyr so he changed the subject, "You want me to finish the job?"

"Da, kill the stupid durak and put him out of his misery. Then clean up this mess and dispose of the body."

"Dump him out at sea again?"

"Nyet! Dump the body where it will be found. I want to send a very clear message, that I am to be taken seriously. The next government agent that crosses me will really suffer before he dies."

Boris strode over to the unlucky captive avoiding the puddles of blood. With a pair of massive hands he grabbed what was left of Jess Falk in a choke hold. The whites of Jess's eyes were completely red due to hemorrhaging, his nose bled due to the pressure. He gasped and his eyes got wide... wide with fear and small ragged gasps escaped his throat. Boris could sense him drifting away to a peaceful place. Then the hapless victim, committed the ultimate indignity, he pissed and shitted himself. As Vlad watched with a grin, that even Boris could only describe as evil, Boris finally applied sufficient force to break the hyoid bone of his neck.

Boris thought back to what Vladimir was capable of doing. Boris never wanted to get on Vlad the Impaler's wrong side. Boris knew he was not above culling the herd when the whim hit him. Vlad once had Alexei, Boris's best friend, killed when he had screwdrivers driven through both ears because Vladimir thought Alexei had eavesdropped on a private conversation.

@ @ @ @

It was lunch time at the HLS Miami office. Steve and Fred were on their way to a corner coffee shop for a quick snack when the phone rang. Fred picked it up and listened for 15 seconds. He hung up without saying a word and relayed, "Steve, the director wants to see us both immediately."

The two agents knocked on the door and anxiously awaited their summons. Finally they heard through the closed door, "Get in here!"

The twosome marched in and found Bill lost in thought as he read some report. The two started to sit in the office chairs. Bill stopped them with, "Don't bother, you won't be here that long."

Steve and Fred looked at each other dumbfounded.

Holding up the folder Bill continued, "These are police and autopsy reports. The local cops have found a mutilated body discarded in the dumpster behind the Pink Pussycat Club. The poor guy was tortured before being strangled. The Chief Medical Examiner's office found the victim had all his fingernails pulled out and suffered extensive cigarette burns to his torso. There were multiple blunt and sharp force injuries to the head, and neck. His injuries also included sever rectal tearing and internal hemorrhaging from an instrument driven up through his scrotum into his abdomen.

Preliminary results from what are left of the victim's fingers ID this guy as one of our own."

A shell shocked Steve enquired, "Another of our agents?"

"No, not this time. The guy was Jess Falk, an agent for Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). A quick check of his active case files revealed that one of Vladimir's henchmen, a Dmitry Putin was his last interview. The locals want to pick up Dmitry for questioning. I told them to back off. Since the victim was a federal agent, this is our jurisdiction."

Steve had the nerve to say, "Boss, it seems to me that the FBI is better able to handle a murder investigation."

Bill gave Steve a stare intended to intimidate. "Listen numbnuts, this isn't about solving a murder case, it's about bringing down an entire terrorist organization. I'll not let them grab the glory for bringing down Vladimir. We'll take over the investigation. This changes everything. I want you two to go down to that bar and nose around."

Steve felt a chill go through him like he was standing on the fantail of the Titanic about to be dumped into the icy Atlantic and reflected, 'By We he means Me. Here goes another harebrained reckless plan. Who is going to die this time?'

Steve felt compelled to protest, "But boss, we might be recognized. We need to be hyper vigilant about Vladimir. Our Über-nerds, say they are convinced Vladimir has access to the latest commercial version of facial recognition. It is not 100% effective but compares favorably what we, the FBI, or ICE has available."

"Steve, you idiot. I have a plan so that won't happen. Since your plan is taking so long, I want you on the lead. You two are going undercover in disguise. Get down to wardrobe right now. They're waiting for you two."

Steve immediately smelled a rat, but the eager beaver Fred headed for the door. Steve stood his ground and asked, "Mr. Hampton, what kind of disguise do you envision?"

Bill displaying his famous supercilious smile explained, "Since this is a transvestite bar, you two are going on a girl's night out. There is only one question. What is your bra size?"

Fred froze in mid stride and squeaked out, "Oh, come on boss, two drag queens asking questions will still raise a red flag."

"That's right, that's why you won't ask anything. I want you two to just hangout. Keep your ears and eyes open and your mouths shut. If Vladimir shows up, stay away from him. Steve, you know the drill. Now you ladies have fun."

Steve's shoulders slumped as he accepted the inevitability of the dubious assignment. Five hours later, Steve and Fred, AKA 'Stephanie and Frederica' awkwardly hauled themselves from the cab in front of the Pink Pussycat Club.

Steve purred, in a very realistic facsimile of a woman's voice, "Frederica, pay the man, I left my wallet in my other purse."

Fred threw twenty dollars at the driver and slung his purse over his shoulder and said, "I want my change and a receipt."

In response, the cabbie muttered "fucking faggots," put the car in gear and drove off.

A very self-conscious Fred brushed the long blond hair out of his face and minced toward the sidewalk taking extremely small steps. He tried to pull his knee length denim skirt down to cover more of his exposed legs thus not paying attention. He tripped over the curb, and did a great imitation of Bambi on ice, arms and legs flailing everywhere.

As Steve watched in amusement, Fred landed hard on his chest.

More embarrassed than hurt, Fred laid face down on the sidewalk and thought, 'At least these personal airbags came in handy.'

Steve helped Fred to his feet, picked up his purse and held his arm to steady his partner.

Steve patted Fred's bottom patronizingly and said, "It takes time to get comfortable walking in stilettos, but you'll learn. Now giddy up girl, let's get going."

Fred gave Steve a withering stare as Steve led off and walked to the entrance.

The club façade was utterly understated, being simply a neon sign with the name 'Pink Pussycat Club' on it. The front window had professionally produced sign advertising, '17 flat screen plasma televisions. We show all sports year around: baseball, football, NASCAR, to extreme fighting.' A hand written message was scribbled under the printed advertisement, 'Over 30 TV's available nightly.'

"Damn it, Steve, how come you get the pony tail, and I have to fight with this long blonde Farrah Fawcett hair all night?"

"Shut up you idiot, remember to call me Stephanie. You got that wig because you are the natural blond.

Steve, in his gray ruffled chiffon maxi dress and black tights wore sensible slip-on ankle boots. He gaily led the way to the club entrance. He walked with a degree of panache that surprised Fred.

Steve had decided to accessorize by wearing a ton of cheap jewelry including showgirl rhinestone earrings with a full 6-inch drop. As Steve purposely strolled on the sidewalk he unabashedly announced to Fred, "I love the way these earrings brush my neck when I walk. It makes me feel so in character."

Fred was as nervous as a virgin on her honeymoon. He knew he was about to get fucked. He just wasn't sure how. Fred asked, "Why did I have to be the one in five-inch heels?"

"Those were selected for you because I elected to wear three-inch pumps. This way we are the same height and no one will stick out."

To relieve the tension, Fred mocked his friend, "Stephanie, you strut like a stripper."

Steve looked over his shoulder and glared at his associate and continued to the front door. He really worked the sway of his hips, and said in a salutary voice. "Thanks Ms. Frederica, you can really be suave and debonair when you try." Steve turned and held one final inspection of his colleague. Steve adjusted Fred's long pearl necklace so it hung between his breast forms.

Standing outside the doorway, Steve leaned into Fred and warned, "Just be careful, this bar attracts mostly the scum of the earth. They are likely to take great glee in disparaging all us Sissies."

Fred took affront at the pejorative term of Sissy, and then he glanced down between his large D cup breast forms to his pink fingernails. He sighed in resignation and continued on to his journey into never-never land.

"If we see Vladimir," Steve began, "Don't make eye contact with him. We will leave immediately. Understood?"

Fred nodded in agreement which set his prodigious boobs oscillating. He reached up and cupped them to settle things down.

"If someone gives you a really hard time, don't get mad, and none of your macho Marine bullshit. Pout, stick your lip out, stare at the floor, and cry if you're able. They will crumble I guarantee it."

In self-deprecating style and with an acid tongue, Fred sarcastically answered, "Yes mother, I promise no catfights tonight. I'll be a good girl."

Upon entering the club the agents were hit with a crescendo of the timeless classic rendition of Helen Reddy's tune, 'I Am Woman Hear Me Roar'. As trained observers, both did a quick situational assessment. It was a typical sports bar, every wall covered in plasma televisions. The only clue to the idiosyncrasy of the club was the pictorial display of famous drag queens that hung behind the main bar. The room was filled with a boisterous crowd, divided into small clusters, some talking and others watching a baseball game between Miami and Chicago. The room was clean, in a public bathroom kind of way. It contained a dozen large booths, two pool tables, a dart board and fifteen four person tables. Two of which had chess boards set up, waiting for contestants.

They closed the front door and were greeted by an employee. A 'woman' with dramatic makeup and prom hair, she wore a vinyl dominatrix outfit that was so tight Fred swore he could read the size tag on her thong panties. She introduced herself as Georgette and spoke with a sickeningly sweet southern drawl, albeit in a husky voice. But she moved without a trace of self-consciousness despite the fact she was dressed in such outlandish attire.

After they explained this was their first time…at the club, a 'girl' named Libby, with a voice as deep as a Saint Bernard and the figure of a fashion model, handed each of them a bar menu and a flyer advertising $2 beers all night. She then proceeded to usher them to their seats. With an effeminate swagger, she led the nervous newbies to the main bar area.

Steve reached out and held Fred's hand to assist him in the 200-foot stroll across the room. Midway through their promenade, Steve put his arm around Fred's waist, pulled him in close and spoke above Shania Twain's recording of 'I Feel like a Woman.' "Fred, you need to relax. Camp it up, exaggerate everything and keep your chest out. Flaunt your sexuality. Now, most important of all, you've got to smile, big and bright and act friendly!"

Upon reaching the bar area, the new arrivals were immediately surrounded by a group of drunk patrons. The leader spoke up first, "Ladies, you look familiar, haven't we met before?"

Steve took control and responded, "Yes, I think you're right. You do look familiar; we both work as receptionists at the local VD clinic. That must be where we have seen you and your friends."

Most of the guys took the hint and proceeded to slink away, but the leader persisted. Ignoring Steve, he cut Fred out of the crowd with the skill of a sheep dog, "Hey cutie, how 'bout you and I get out of here and go someplace private?"

Fred was appalled at the guy's audacity and lame pickup line. Fred took a step forward and invaded the man's private space. He looked him up and down and responded in a confident manner, "Sorry mate, I make it a rule not to date outside my species."

Some guys just won't take a hint though. "Don't be like that, baby. What do I have to give you, to get a kiss?"

"Chloroform is the only that comes to mind. Now buzz off."

Steve watched in amused silence and thought he might have underestimated his partner. He grabbed 'her' hand and the two struggled to perch atop the closest bar stools.

Steve ordered for both agents, "Two cosmopolitans please, and don't skimp on the vodka."

The bartender was someone who introduced herself as Donna. In a parody of a drag queen, he/she wore bright red sissy colored lipstick with garish blue eye shadow outlined in heavy black eyeliner. Worst of all, he followed the creed 'more is better,' eschewing the fundamental rule in applying makeup. He seemed to have put his makeup on with a trowel, his beard showed despite a foundation layer that was so thick it had fissures in it. He dressed, in the most outlandish fashion and came across somewhere between pathetic and whimsical. He had stuffed his bra with two overinflated water balloons. He wore a hip hugging red mini-dress and a diaphanous lace blouse, fishnet stockings and 4-inch stilettos. He walked and stood with his legs wide open and knees bent like he had just dismounted a steed.

Like most bartenders, Donna was a great conversationalist. When Steve tried to steer the conversation to the body found in the alley, all he got was, "I know nothin' about nothin'." He/she freely gossiped about everything including how he got into this predicament. He willingly told the new girls his story. In his past life, he was a tenured college English professor. Because of a brief liaison with a student, he was forced by his wife to quit that job, and is now serving out a 6- month sentence as a waitress, bartender, and cleaning lady for the club.

While Steve was momentarily distracted, Fred fended off another Romeo. "Come on Sweetheart, help me out. My penis just died and I would love to bury it in your ass."

Fred retorted with, "Sorry I'm not your type, I'm not inflatable."

Steve laughed at that one. Now convinced that Fred was capable of taking care of himself, he turned his full attention to Donna, assured he was someone who was worth cultivating as a source. For the remainder of the night, Steve went out of his way to cozy up to Donna.

Steve found out that Donnas' wife demanded that he live and work at the club as punishment for cheating on her with a student. His wife insinuated this was the only way he had of 'maybe' saving their marriage. She insisted he never try to appear as a woman, rather he was required to go out of his way to humiliate himself. Steve marveled at the openness of this man.

Caught up in Donnas' story, Steve almost missed the auburn haired beauty that sat next to him. She was a little tall for a woman, with legs that didn't quit. Her long legs were encased in black nylon, with seams in the back that seemed to invite the looker to follow them up, to the mysteries hidden by the dress. Her body was incredibly curvaceous; she wore a gold lamé sheath dress with a beaded keyhole collar that hugged her body like a wet coat of paint. She crossed her long legs, showing off her feet that were covered by 5" heels that came to a point at the toe.

Her breasts were huge and out of proportion to her body. To Steve, this was a first clue that it wasn't all natural. She took a deep breath, her chest expanded enticingly and held out a hand and said, "Hi, My name's Trixie."

"An aroused Steve daintily shook hands with this striking individual and introduced himself as Steffi. Then asked, "May I buy you a drink?"

She looked up at him batted her eyelashes and smiled, "Thank you, it is refreshing to find a gentleman these days.

Staring into her face, Steve found dark almond shaped eyes exotically attractive. He was getting lost in those lovely pools of brown chocolate. His heart was racing; Steve had to force himself to look away. Despite her beauty, Steve discerned a subtle but noticeable sharpness to her facial features, and just the hint of a widow's peak showing at her hairline. She was attractive but he thought that perhaps she wasn't quite what she seemed. Being a trained professional, Steve came to the realization he was dealing with a transsexual.

Using his peripheral vision, Steve detected a guy staring at them from across the room. He was a big guy wearing a short sleeved purple dress shirt, white Dockers and sporting lots of gold on his hands and neck. He had a weightlifter's frame and Popeye arms. He took a slow sip of his drink and smiled at Steve over the rim of his glass.

Steve speculated that he'd stumbled upon a tranny escort. This mountain of a man was probably her pimp. Steve returned his attention to this beautiful creature and thought, 'It's a pity she's a hooker…Damn now I'm really pissed I forgot my wallet. I wonder what she charges.'

Steve glanced back at the pimp and thought that this was a place he really didn't want to go. So he pointed to a pool game just breaking up and said, "Sorry Trixie, but it's my game next."

Steve got up to leave. "See you around," Steve said and lifted his glass in salute.

"Going so soon?" she asked as she fluttered her sexy long false lashes at Steve.

"Afraid so Trixie," Steve replied and gulped down the last of his drink in one swallow. "Maybe another time."

"Don't wait too long Steffi. I have an expiration date. I turn back into a pumpkin at midnight."

As Steve walked to the pool table, he wondered about her. She was the first transsexual he'd ever met, that he knew of. He'd certainly never expected to find one so pretty and convincing and thought it was a pity she was a pro. The more he thought about her, the more he was fascinated by her. Fingering his wedding ring, he mentally slapped himself for losing focus.

Sure there must be lots of transsexuals who work as waitresses, hairdressers, receptionists, and many other occupations, whom we may meet unknowingly every day, without questioning whether they might have once been male in their past. Trixie didn't quite completely pass as a woman but perhaps she wasn't intended to.

Steve coyly threw his game of pool to a rank amateur as he intentionally scratched the first opportunity he got. Steffi congratulated the winner with a kiss on the cheek, and sashayed his way back to Fred, just in time to hear another moron embarrass himself by saying, "Hey cupcake, you want to know how you make a fairy moan? You tinker his bell."

At that point the PA system blared Lady Gaga's hit tune, 'Born this way'. The upbeat music rang through the bar like a giant bell through the halls of a church, you could feel the music.

The entire club responded as one, everyone stood and sang.

"Don't be a drag, just be a queen. Whether you're broke or evergreen.
You're black, white, beige, chola descent.
You're Lebanese, you're orient.
Whether life's disabilities left you outcast, bullied or teased.
Rejoice and love yourself today 'Cause baby, you were born this way.
No matter gay, straight or bi Lesbian, transgendered life I'm on the right track, baby I was born to survive.
No matter black, white or beige or orient made I'm on the right track, baby I was born to be brave.
I'm beautiful in my way 'Cause God makes no mistakes I'm on the right track, baby I was born this way."

Steve, caught up in the moment, found himself standing, swaying and clapping to the music. As the tune ended, Steve pushed the guy standing next to him aside and again wiggled his ass up to the bar stool, crossed his legs and observed. Both girls sat, smiled and drank way too much. Over the course of the night, they managed to consume three bottles of Chablis, a half dozen glasses of Champagne, and four mixed drinks while they became acquainted with most of the other patrons and staff. Steve noted for his report that the staff was a most eclectic mix. Some of the 'girls' appeared to be tranny-whores. While the majority of employees were transvestites living out their dreams, dressing to 'pass,' there were a minority that seemed to be full-fledged transsexuals.

The patrons, like most neighborhood sports bars, were mostly guys and what appeared to be a few authentic females sprinkled in among the obvious transvestites. In Steve's opinion, most of the men were masquerading as macho homophobic straight family men when in reality they were probably misogynistic closeted gays.

Fred was impressed that the girls tried to look out for each other. One waitress, named Candy, stood out to Fred. She was a real peach, possessed of the sweetest Texas drawl. It was Howdy Y'alls all over the place. She was especially helpful. One customer was really harassing Fred and tried to wrestle him off his stool. Candy snuck up behind the jerk and stuck her tongue in his ear, then started sucking on his earlobe. The bastard never had a chance. Candy just took charge of the situation. She had him eating out of her hand, as she led him into a backroom.

About two hours into their visit, Fred made a major concession and admitted he had to use the powder room, inviting Stephanie along for support. After he did his business, Fred stood and wiped. He didn't want his boy bits to show so he tucked his junk. He pulled up his vintage Lycra panties to hold everything in place and ensure he had a good feminine front. Meanwhile, Steffi was at the mirror and ran a brush through his hair one last time. Then he selected a tiny bottle from his purse. He strategically applied a dab behind each ear, and then offered the bottle to Fred, who adamantly declined. Steve then helped Fred touch up his lipstick. Then arm-in-arm, the duo headed back to their observation posts.

Stephanie and Frederica spent an eventful evening drinking, socializing and observing the club. Steve was amused at how Fred seemed to be a natural flirt and unconsciously spent the night flipping his hair and playing with his large hoop earrings. The men were drawn to Fred like flies to shit, and every one of them kept adding to the pile of manure in an attempt to impress the flirtatious Fred with their witty repartee and pathetic pickup lines.

At closing time, Steve and Fred headed for the door. Steve put his hand in the middle of Fred's back and guided him to the exit. At the door, the agents ran into a logjam of customers. Everyone was crushed together. Some jerk took the opportunity to grab Fred by his ass and said "Baby, you got yourself a beautifully, bodacious, bubble butt there. But your booty would look a lot better bouncing on the end of my prick."

Fred spun around and was surprised that his instinct was to slap this asshole, rather than punch him. Luckily, Steve was right there and held Fred's wrist in an iron grip. He whispered, "Frederica, take a deep breath and let it go. We don't want to start anything." To shield his girlfriend, Steve stepped between the two. Then as he turned to leave, Steffi 'accidently' stepped on the instep of the asshole with the spike of his high heeled boot.

As the guy yelped and hopped around on one foot. Steffi sweetly said, "Sorry baby, my bad."

Buoyed by the confidence only alcohol can bring, Steve was feeling a little frisky and decided to have a little fun at his partner's expense. His hand casually rested south of the middle of Fred's back, Steffi maneuvered Frederica through the crowd to their waiting cab. Once ensconced in the seclusion of the backseat, an inebriated Steve became quite the cuddle kitten and snuggled up to an uncomfortable Fred the whole way home.

@ @ @ @

The next morning Fred arrived dressed in his usual dark suit, starched white shirt and expensive tie. He was rubbing his left ear and limped in, his toes still suffered from an evening in 5-inch stilettos. "God damn it, Steve. That was bullshit last night. Why did I have to get my ears pierced, for just one night?"

Steve sat at his desk, his fingers steepled under his chin and smirked at his partner. "Fred, stop the whining, you sound like a petulant child. We were trying to sell our cover. The holes will close up again in a few days. No self-respecting TV wears clip-on earrings. By the way, for someone who claims to be a transvestite neophyte, you did amazingly well. You were simply a-w-e-s-o-m-e."

An indignant Fred gave Steve a stare that would drill through concrete. "Thanks for the compliment, but yesterday was the longest day of my life. We spent over three hours getting dressed and an additional four hours parading around like two tricked out whores and never got a single clue.

"It took me hours to get all the makeup off last night and forever to get that waist cincher off. My God with all of its straps, panels, hooks, zippers and ties, it must be a leftover from the Spanish Inquisition. Why did you double knot it in back?"

Steve ignored Fred's yammering.

"All that effort, and we didn't hear a single thing about the murder or a dead body. How is that going to help?"

"Fred, no information, is still information. Think about it, a body is found feet away from where you work and not one waitress, or patron said a single word. Just fill in your report and let the Intel guys do their thing."

Fred still suffered from the indignity of his first undercover assignment. With an ashen pall on his face, he glared at Steve, looked around to make sure no one could overhear him and said, "All right, but when you walked me to my door, what the hell was that goodnight kiss for?"

"Sorry, sweetie, you were just so cute and after 6 or 7 drinks I couldn't help myself."

"Damn you, my neighbor saw two women necking at my doorstep and called my girlfriend. Lucy has left me 10 messages already."

"Hey, don't blame me you are the one who reached up and grabbed me by my head in a moment of passion."

"Fuck you Steve, I already told you. You caught me off guard. In those stilts I stumbled, and just instinctively seized your head to keep from falling. Let me warn you. You try that again and the next Sunday, you will be singing soprano in the church choir. What am I going to say to Lucy? I can't tell her why we were in drag. Even if I can come up with some reasonable explanation for the dress, there is no justification for the kiss."

"I don't know. Be creative. Skip the whole drag thing. Make her jealous; tell her you had a little three-way action last night."

"Yeah, that's brilliant, since I told her we were working together last night. What will you say to your wife when Lucy calls Phyllis?"

Steve smiled because he knew exactly what Phyllis would say. Contrary to the rules he had shown her a dozen pictures from his cell phone.

"Calm down, just finish your statement. Don't forget to file your expense report."

"All right Steve, I'll get right on it. Good buddy, rest assured, I'll get you for that lame line. 'I left my wallet in my other purse trick.' You bastard, I had to pay for the whole night. How do I explain the undercover expenses to accounting, since I paid in cash I didn't get any receipts? You spent nothing while I spent over $70."

"Cool it, if that hot to trot lezzy hadn't paid our last bar bill. It would've been a lot more. That says a lot about the success of your disguise. Butt ugly gals pay their own way. You were so sexy and inviting, you had admirers fighting over you all night. If you would have taken a few of those offers from the tranny chasers the entire night would have been free."

"Just list everything as 'Incidentals.' I'll submit a supporting statement, with your expense report."

Steve smiled and patted his coat pocket to ensure the $200, he had been issued from the discretionary fund was still there. Maybe someday he'd tell Fred about it, but for now it was time to shop. A return trip back to the club was warranted to work on Donna and he needed a new outfit. If he was really lucky maybe Trixie will be there again. Steve daydreamed; 'I bet I could pump her…for information.'

"By the way Frederica, with your constant flirting, you attracted a lot more attention than I thought was appropriate. I told you to be friendly not to troll for a boyfriend. We might have overdone things with your feminization."

"Do you think? Hell Steve, I had no idea how much ass grabbing, pinching, and propositioning there would be. By the way, my butt is black and blue from being pinched and groped. I had at least 10 guys and two women; at least I think they were women, proposition me and ask for my phone number. One guy offered to pay me $100 for a pole dance and he promised to provide the pole. That was Eww, disgusting, like I would touch his filthy rod! Those pickup lines, I never realized how cheesy they are. Last night was a real eye opener for me."

At that moment, Bill stuck his head in the door, and asked, "Well boys how was your night at the fruit stand?"

In unison both agents answered, "Not as bad as I imagined."

"Finish your written reports and come debrief me personally."

@ @ @ @

A NOTE REGARDING THIS STORY.

This is a fictional chronicle of a normal hardworking guy named Jack. The federal government made him an offer he couldn't refuse. All they asked was for Jack to go undercover to help the U.S. Government ensnare a terrorist.

Any resemblance of the characters depicted in the story to actual individuals is coincidental. All events are the sole responsibility of the author. None of the scenes in this story depict minors engaged in any sexual encounter.

This story has been previously posted on other sites. It is being posted here with a strong rewrite; some new chapters have been added. I had my BFF Monica Rose edit the material so it should be more readable. Marina

Marina: [email protected]

@ @ @ @

Chapter 9 - Jack confronts Rose on the issue of infidelity

"Infidelity in a woman is a masculine trait."

"Mike and his friends were smoking cigars all day. They even talked me into sucking on Mike's...."

"Go on Rose, you sucked on Mike's what?"

Rose stood there naked with fury in her eyes she slapped Jack so hard his vision blurred, "Bitch, watch your potty mouth! Don't be an ass Jack. His cigar of course!

"By the end of the day I reeked of the smoke. I took a shower, before I left to get the smell out of my hair. I dropped my panties there on the floor. The shower curtain leaked and they got soaked. So I left them with Mike. Now don't be ditzy."

A crestfallen Jack teetered on the edge of an emotional abyss. He shuddered, his emotions alternated between anger and self-pity. The thoughts of Mike and Rose making mad passionate love whirled around his mind. He openly sobbed as his emotions bubbled over from its cauldron deep inside his soul. What he perceived as infidelity by his wife was more than Jack could handle. He mumbled repeatedly, "Rose you and Mike, you and Mike, how could you?"

"Don't you dare imply I've been unfaithful, I'm no whore!"

Jack thought, 'I wonder how much she charged him?'

"Honey nothing intimate happened between Mike and me. Today was all business."

Jack thought, 'All business huh, I wonder how much she charged him?'

Rose appeared angry at Jack's implication, but thought it was just the reaction she was hoping for. She stood over Jack in an attempt to intimidate him. She turned on the table lamp and for the first time and saw his beautifully made-up face. Looking down at her husband she lovingly praised him, "Oh kudos to you Daisy, you've really developed your cosmetics skills."

Rose, truly impressed at his effort, lightly stroked his heavily lipstick coated mouth. "Speaking of whores, you have certainly gotten the whore look down with those Cleopatra eyes and crimson lips. Next time consider using a touch more lip-gloss. Daisy, you are simply gorgeous tonight."

Then with just a glitter of a tear in her eyes, Rose tried to conceal her angst under a calm façade, as transparent as it was feigned. She gently cradled Jack's head to her bosom and said, "Darling, you must trust me on this, there is nothing going on between Mike and I. It's all a figment of your imagination."

Jack was forced to accept her denial at face value. The alternative was more than he could handle in his current fragile state of mind. In a state of total remorse, Jack apologized and submissively offered to redeem himself if Rose would come to bed. Rose climbed in bed, and rejected Jack's romantic advances, claiming she is too sore and tired, and told Jack to remove his makeup and take a cold shower before coming to bed.

Sunday, Rose was up early and walked out the door as she informed Jack she would be gone for the day. With no explanation as to where she was going, she disappeared. Jack heard her car roar out of the driveway, tires squealing. He stood at the window and watched her taillights disappear into the distance. Jack spent a miserable day alone; with nothing else to do, he weeded the flower garden and then cleaned the house again. It was well past dark when Rose waltzed into the house. Jack had held dinner for her. Hearing her car he dished up the casserole and laid the plates and cutlery on the kitchen table. Sue took a brief look at the food on the kitchen table and shook her head no. Without saying a word, she headed straight for the bedroom, turned the lights off, and went to bed. Her silence and apparent indifference made Jake feel like he had been gut punched. He scrapped the dinner into the trash and cleaned up the dishes. He tiptoed into the bedroom not wanting to disturb his wife. He slid into the sheets as quietly as possible and had a restless night.

A seething Jack remained mute the next morning. He ran through his morning exercise regiment without uttering a sound. He continued his silence throughout the commute to work. As the two separated upon exiting the elevator, Rose smiled at Jack and said, "The silent treatment is a bit juvenile don't you think? I am your wife. If you can't trust me who can you trust?"

When he just frowned and didn’t move, she made a shooing gesture.

Jack remained mute on the ride home and all the way to the dinner table. Rose had had enough of this manipulative tactic and spelled it out, Jack, "The silent treatment won't work on me. It’s a mean form of emotional abuse. You can keep this up and destroy our marriage or get over your perceived injustice and move forward."

Then to make things worse Rose took the opportunity to bitterly criticize him for his lack of feminine table manners.

"Jack, cut up just what you're going to eat in the next bite or two. The purpose is not speed or efficiency. You are there to enjoy and converse and by only cutting a few bites at a time you are giving yourself the opportunity to flirt or to ask and answer questions, as you switch your utensils from one hand to another. No more wiping your mouth, henceforth daintily pat your lips with your napkin."

Jack accepted the criticism and did his best to eat like a lady. After Jack did the cleanup the two sat down for a drink and smoke. Rose poured doubles for them both. After his second double, the one with a valium dissolved in it, Jack began to loosen up. Rose amusedly watched Jack with his droopy eyes. Rose, a cigarette dangling in her hand, passed it to Jack and ordered him to take a drag. Complying with the demand, Jack erupted in a fit of coughing. Rose handed Jack a tube of lipstick and ordered him to repair his lips. Rose laid her two diminutive hands palms down on the table and stood. Glaring directly into Jack's eyes, Rose demanded, "Talk to me you idiot. Tell me what's bothering you."

Jack related his fears concerning a possible sexual liaison between Rose and Mike.

Rose expressed amusement and openly mocked his insecurities saying, "Is my little Jackie frightened of losing his wife to big strong Mike? Listen you insecure pussy, anytime I want I can have my choice of the fattest, thickest cocks in town. If I ever decide to cheat on you, I won't do it behind your back. I'll do it right in front of you. In fact I'll even invite you watch, I might even let you fluff for me! Now stop crying, check your makeup, and get ready for deportment training."

"Rose, I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"You'll take this and anything else I'll throw at you. Or pack your bags and get out!"

A devastated Jack promised to never act jealous again and fell all over himself apologizing for his insecurities. In retaliation for his earlier defiant attitude, Rose added an additional requirement to his daily routine. Jack was given very specific instructions whenever he was in the house he was never to be outside the immediate reach of his purse. If Rose saw he could not instantly reach his purse, Jack would lose more eyebrow hairs. Jack learned to regularly check and recheck his lipstick. To demonstrate what was in store, Rose sat Jack down and started tweezing hair from his brow. For several minutes she plucked not only his hair but his masculinity.

Rose and a dejected Jack stumbled to the living room for an hour of schooling.

Rose started the night's training secession with a brief sermon, "Jack dear, I want you to remember deportment is not only about walking. It encompasses a whole horde of things. It also refers to the way a woman carries herself, how she moves, her posture, how she walks, holds her hands, inclines her head, her manners at the table. Jack, it's my goal to turn you into a lady. Are you with me on that one?

"Sweetheart, we need to create the feminine impression that you are going to need. We will be working on the psychological view as well as the physical. Once you feel feminine, you will eventually develop the confidence and grace needed to be a lady. The guy in a dress will simply fade away."

Deportment training that night was as rigorous as any Jack had undergone up to that point. Rose was harsh in her criticisms.

After an hour of practicing the basics, Rose allowed Jack a break, he spent the next twenty minutes sitting crossing and uncrossing his legs at the thigh. He was forced to keep at it until the action appeared totally natural, like he had been doing it his whole life.

Jack audaciously complained about Rose's insensitive attitude and said, "Rose you no longer ask me to do something, now you tell me to do it. I don't like being treated like hired help."

Rose lectured her husband on what to expect concerning his future training. "When I can, I promise I'll be kind. Don't expect me to be timid. If you do what you're told and do it to the best of your ability, we'll never have a problem. Now get your candy-ass over to the vanity and freshen your makeup."

Jack hated that term candy-ass; it brought back unpleasant childhood memories. It seemed like such a prissy thing.

Makeup lessons were painful that night. Jack felt confident, he could handle the fundamentals. He sat down and went to work with all the tubes, powers and creams. It cost Jack several eyebrow hairs to learn lip liner extending beyond the lip line was a no-no. Jack furthermore, learned about the advantages of lip gloss.

Mastering lips was a piece of cake compared to the complexities of applying false eyelashes. Jack had become exasperated. First the ends wouldn't stick; it was the fourth time he had tried to get the wiggly things to stick in the correct location. He finally attached them only to find they had been positioned at the inner corner of his eye, rather than the outer and his next attempt resulted like the preceding ones in failure. "Rose, that's it, I quit…'

Rose gave him a glare that would wilt a bronze statue. Jack recognized his error, "I'm sorry. What I should have said was I need help. I can't do this. How do you make this look so easy?"

Jack nervously waited for Rose to react, expecting her to explode.

Surprisingly, Rose said, "I had better never hear that Q word again! Let's get into bed. My needs take precedent tonight. Jack assumed his usual position with his lips pressed against her pussy. Rose insisted Jack keep his lips looking luscious. She explained that watching Jack lick her dew drops with lips coated in a deep red creamy concoction added to her pleasure. So from that moment forward, Jack was always required to refresh his lipstick before servicing Rose.

After nearly 30 minutes and a number of climaxes for his wife, she pushed Jack away and said, "Thanks dear, you are wonderfully talented, I cum and cum and cum when you are down there. Now I'm tired let's go to sleep."

Rose appeared to be utterly enjoying her commanding position. Their loving partnership of a marriage had become an authoritative dictatorship. Jack's needs were considered inconsequential.

Jack stood and in wonderment said, "What about me?"

Rose stuck her head from under the covers and pointed to the bathroom, "Jack, how many times do we need to go over this issue. Be a good boy, take your makeup off and then hop into a cold shower. I'm tired."

A frustrated Jack scrambled into bed that night.

As the days passed, Rose created a pavlovian response in Jack. He could never pass a mirror without checking his face. At home, he could go no more than 15 minutes without pulling his compact out and scrutinizing his lips. Rose also required Jack to bring a tube of Chap Stick to work, so that at all times he had a thick waxy coat on his lips.

Friday evening, Rose returned home later than usual. She stopped in the middle of the living room and matter-of-factly announced to Jack as he sat on the couch, "Next week Jackie, you are going to learn how a woman satisfies her man."

Much to Rose's amusement, Jack had a massive tantrum and put his high heeled foot down, refusing to discuss the topic. After the screaming stooped, Rose had a good laugh and relented. "Well if you don't want to learn how to gratify a man. How do you feel about a lesson in pleasing a woman?"

Pausing at the bedroom door, Jack saw a wicked gleam in Rose's eyes mixed with pure lust. Rose said over her shoulder, "Refresh your lipstick and get in here."

She tugged at his hand almost causing Jack to stumble. Jack lightheartedly inquired, "What would you have me do, Mistress?"

"On your knees, wench, and be quick about it!" Jack tensed at the word wench. Still he obeyed, and kept his eyes fixed on Rose's crotch, avoiding her gaze. Rose tasted unusual tonight, not bad just different, a little thicker discharge that was like the difference between of peppermint and menthol.

With Jack on his knees between Roses legs, a good 15 minutes later a satisfied Rose said, "Dear you can get up now; I guess every night can't be a 10."

A disheartened Jack started to immediately apologized, and pleaded for more time to satisfy her. An amused Rose patted the bed next to her. She simply responded, "No Jack you misunderstand. I'm not dissatisfied. Quite the contrary, your performance tonight was rated a 12.5 by the judges. Honey, I have to tell you how proud I am of you. You efforts have been above and beyond; you need to know me and your country appreciates your sacrifices and hard work. You never knew my brother or my father. They both would consider you to be a true American patriot and a real hero."

Jack stood and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth, he called out to Rose, "Thanks for the compliments, but I don't feel much like Audie Murphy or Sergeant York."

"Of course not silly, think more along the lines of Mata Hari."

Jack did a double take on that one and thought back to his high school history class, "Wait a minute, wasn't she caught and executed?"

Rose laughed to put Jack at ease and said, "Come to bed, you need your beauty sleep. Everything will be fine; you have my word on it."

The days all began to run together, then finally it was again Saturday. Rose returned from her morning shower and found Jack still in bed. She declared, "Here honey, let me help you get dressed. We'll start with your corset; you have a full day of cleaning ahead of you. I expect you to clean the entire house, while I go out to meet with a friend. If you get done before I get home, the garage could use a good cleaning as well."

When he asked her who the friend was, Rose erupted, "Jack, how dare you ask me, is it a man or woman! In either case, it's none of your business. Get to work. I will be back in time for a formal inspection. The floors had better be clean enough to eat from!"

Rose dressed in a tight fitting knit outfit which accentuated her curvy figure. She turned to a grumpy Jack, "Jack, stop your constant pouting, and just get to work. How many times do I have to remind you, time is critical to get you ready, we can't afford for you to take days off."

Saturday was an exhausting day of nonstop work for Jack. He scurried around the house dutifully performing all his assigned chores, cleaning, washing, ironing, cooking, and scrubbing the floors. Upon her return, Rose was in a foul mood, her premenstrual cramps had started. She inspected the house and critiqued every miniscule flaw.

She laughed her ass off when she accidently bumped into Jack as he carried their meals to the table. The collision was violent enough to spill one of the plates on the floor. The look on Jack's face as the food fell on his spotless kitchen floor was precious. Rose pointed to the pile on the gleaming linoleum, "She handed him a fork and spoon and said, "You made the mess now clean it up."

Jack couldn't believe she expected him to eat it off the floor. He took a fork and in resignation got down on his knees and started to eat. He ate his banquet off the kitchen floor one scoop at a time, wanting nothing more than to get it over with. Rose kept taunting him with "Remember Daisy, small petite bites, no gulping." Then she handed him a napkin said, "Remember a lady always pats her lips with her napkin."

Rose had been in a bad mode for the last few days. She had been to her reproductive health endocrinologist (i.e. her fertility doctor) and received a shot containing a high dosage of hormones to help her to become impregnated, thus launching her on a rollercoaster ride of emotions. Than tonight the curse of every woman, the red tide came a calling.

"Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition: the cleaned becomes the soiled; the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day." Simone-de-Beauvoir

@ @ @ @

A NOTE REGARDING THIS STORY.

This is a fictional chronicle of a normal hardworking guy named Jack. The federal government made him an offer he couldn't refuse. All they asked was for Jack to go undercover to help the U.S. Government ensnare a terrorist.

Any resemblance of the characters depicted in the story to actual individuals is coincidental. All events are the sole responsibility of the author. None of the scenes in this story depict minors engaged in any sexual encounter.

This story has been previously posted on other sites. It is being posted here with a strong rewrite; some new chapters have been added. I had my BFF Monica Rose edit the material so it should be more readable. Marina

Marina: [email protected]

@ @ @ @

Chapter 10 - Steffi Loses tThe Right To Wear White

We live in a world where losing your phone is more dramatic than losing your virginity.

Fred had snuck into the bathroom to have a private conversation with his girlfriend, Lucy. He took the opportunity to do a little sexting in anticipation of the night of hot sex he had planned.

He tiptoed back to his office he shared with Steve only to find it empty. His partner was AWOL. Fred scanned the room and saw a slip of paper on the floor beside Steve's desk. Picking it up, he recognized it as a buck slip from Mr. Hampton's Secretary. It was addressed to the two of them and read simply, 'Get your asses in here now.'

Fred straightened his tie and made sure his zipper was up, picked up a pen and notebook. Did a smart about-face and rushed out the door. He was a few yards away from the director's office when Steve came out looking like a whipped puppy.

He frowned at the expression on Steve's face, "What's up partner?"

Steve turned his head to ensure the door was closed and that no one could hear him. "It's that idiot Hampton. He says our investigation isn't moving fast enough. He's ordered us back to the Pink Pussycat club to see if we can pick up any fresh intel on Ivan."

Fred grimaced. "Can't we pass this off on someone else? That new guy in the next cubical is really gullible."

Steve thought seriously about the suggestion but realized that if something happened to the agent he would be in a world of hurt.

"It's our case. Come with me, Freddy, we'll figure something out. The one thing we can't do is show our male faces in that club. It has been positively confirmed that Ivan's gang has our mugs in his facial recognition database. That seriously narrows our options."

The ramifications of that statement hit Fred like a Mack truck, "Fuck, no. I'm not dressing as a girl again! If I'm going to get killed it won't be with me wearing a bra and panties. I want to go out as a man." said a very terrified Fred.

Thirty minutes and two cups of coffee later, Steve had formulated his simplistic plan. "Okay, here's what we'll do. I'll put on my Steffi disguise and go in alone to pump Donna for information." Steve thought to himself 'I hope that bimbette Trixie is there; I'd like to pump her for more than information.'

"I'll be wired and you will be my backup. You'll sit outside in a car and monitor my communications. If you hear the code word 'backdoor' come a running. It will mean I'm in trouble."

Fred shrugged. He liked the idea of staying out of a dress. "That doesn't sound too bad. Should I wear a vest?"

Steve laughed realizing his partner hadn’t grasped the nuances of the plan. "Not unless they make bulletproof Brassieres, you'll be dressed as Frederica. I may need a clandestine rescue. One other thing Frederica, carry a purse large enough to hold your 9 millimeter, it has more knockdown punch."

Four hours later, the two ladies were circling the club in their unmarked government car. Steve was driving and having a great time teasing his partner who sat next to him in his pink poodle miniskirt. Fred was definitely not happy.

As they cruised past the rear of the club, Steve found what he was looking for. "Look Frederica, there's a side entrance off that alley. I'll park on the corner and you stay here and monitor my conversations. Hopefully it will go smoothly and I won't need you. If I do need backup, I want to see nothing but assholes and elbows when you coming charging to my rescue. That's why I had you wear flats and put you in a miniskirt to facilitate a fast getaway."

"Yeah, right! I'm sure that's the only reason," said Fred sarcastically.

"Well that and you've got great legs," teased Steve.

Steve parked the car and gracefully climbed out of the car and watched Fred slide to the driver's seat. Fred's heart pounded in his chest, his hand rested on his gun inside his purse. He was having serious doubts about Steve's unsophisticated plan, but Steve was the senior agent so Fred had no choice.

Steve walked ten yards away and did a com check to ensure the microphone hidden in the hair comb holding back his bangs was transmitting. Fred gave his partner a thumbs-up and nervously watched Steve make his way to the front door, marveling at the ease with which he handled the five-inch stilettos he was wearing. Fred had thought Steve went overboard with his heavy dramatic makeup and skin tight red miniskirt. Steve explained it away as he was trying to attract attention this time around.

Steve entered the club and Fred immediately realized there was a serious deficiency with the plan. The music and crowd noise were all jumbled together and overwhelmed the microphone. Fred had a difficult time making out what was being said. Having no other alternative; he got out of the car and followed his partner into the club. If he couldn't hear him, he felt he should at least be able to keep an eye on his colleague.

Fred ensured his wig covered his ear piece and stepped into the lions' den. His heart was pounding as he paid his cover charge and worried about being reimbursed for it without a receipt. He watched his partner make a beeline for the bar and approach a really tall woman who was leaning against the bar. She was taller than Steve, even allowing for their high heels. She had fair skin, accented by her long black hair. She was wearing a white gauzy see-through blouse that embellished her full breasts and wore black form-fitting slacks that emphasized her long tapered legs. It took Fred a moment but then he realized the tart with his partner was the infamous Trixie. Fred stood to the side of the entryway and tried to blend in. He watched Steffi buy Trixie a drink. The two appear to become rather chummy, Fred couldn't make out what was being said in his earpiece.

The two finished their drinks and walked hand in hand to the back of the club, where they disappeared into an unmarked door.

Once they were out of the main club area, Fred's reception picked up and he could hear Steve talking, "Thanks Trix for agreeing to talk to me in private."

"No problem, Steffi, I have a room reserved for private....ah, conversations. Follow me, no one will bother us there."

Entering the room, Steve saw it was dominated by a massive double bed covered in a yellow comforter. Trixie threw his purse on a dresser. He went to a makeshift bar in the corner, poured himself a drink and asked, "Want another drink? I have my special bottle reserved for private conversations."

Fred slowly backed out the door intending to return to the safety of the car. Fred was shocked at what he heard next, from Trixie "Let's take off our dresses and get comfortable. Here sit on the bed, I'll get our drinks then we can talk all you want."

Fred slid into the car, put his purse down where he could get to it in a hurry and relaxed. He figured his partner knew what he was doing. The next thing Fred heard was a lot of girly giggles with Trixie saying, "That's a good girl drink it all."

It went quiet after that and Fred heard some sounds he couldn't identify. He was starting to get concerned when Trixie said "Steffi, lay down on the bed on your back. I prefer the top is that's alright."

He heard Steve's voice, "Can't we just talk first?"

Trixie giggled, "Oh...you're one of those girls. I bet you like to cuddle afterward too."

"Why do I feel funny?"

"It's a little GHB I slipped into your drink, it'll help relax you. Steffi, you are about to get fucked and that's the way it has to be. I'm sorry you seem to be a sweet person. I love girls like you. I plan on riding your clit for a wonderful climax. Then when you're spent I intend on planting my seed in your sweet ass."

"What the hell are you doing now, Trixie?"

"You mean the handcuffs? They're my insurance policy. I just wanted to assure you don't go anywhere until I'm done with you. You'll enjoy this I promise. We can change places later."

"Get off me," mumbled Steve.

With a heavy sigh, Trixie climbed off the bed, "I have ways of handling complainers. Open wide while I stuff my panties into that sexy mouth of yours."

Trixie climbed back atop Steve and straddled his waist, she removed the cheap breast forms in his bra and played with his man boobs. She took off her bra and shook her hooters at Steve.

"Do you like my tits Steffi? I got mine the old fashioned way...silicone injections, before they became outlawed. Aren't they lovely?"

Steve may have been in a stupor but a pair of gigantic breast inches away was still enticing. He nodded his head yes with great gusto.

Trixie announced, "Great! I like my girls to have the real thing, Steffi; I'll fix you right up."

Steve tried unsuccessfully to spit out the nasty gag, while Trixie went to a small safe in the room and withdrew six hypodermics needles filled with a cloudy liquid. "Lucky for you I still have six silicone injections leftover from my stash. When you leave here girlfriend you're going to have a full B cup. I promise!

"Oh, the look on your face is precious. You can thank me later, now let's get started, three in each tit will start you out nicely. Come back in a month and we'll do it again."

Fred was beyond worried; he started to panic. He opened the car door and started toward the side door. He pulled up short when, out of the shadows strode a mountain of a man; he had arms as large as most men's legs. He walked to the side door and disappeared inside. Fred thought 'This is not going well he looks like the guy we had previously identified as Trixie's pimp.'

Not sure what to do, Fred decided to wait it out. After all he hadn't heard Steve's panic word. Fred went back to the security of his car. He climbed in and ensured all the doors were locked. He pressed his earpiece deeper into his ear trying to hear what was going on.

Fred jumped when he heard rather clearly a deep man's voice, "Trixie what the hell are you doing?"

"Oh hi, Tom. I'm about to slide my friends pole up my hole. What do you think I'm doing?"

"Get off him; you know all tricks are to be run through me."

"But Tom, I promised Steffi he would get the fucking of a life time. Look he has a nice stiffy."

Steve freaked out, even in his drug addled brain. He frantically pulled at his restraints. When he thought things couldn't get any worse they did. Tom dropped his pants and pulled out a penis the size of a cucumber which could feed a family of four. Steve's pole shrunk like someone had let the air out of a balloon.

Tom leered at his captive and said, "He'll get the fucking of a life time alright; but it'll be by me."

Tom unlocked the cuffs holding Steve's legs to the bed one at a time and forced the leg up so he could reattach them to his hands. Steve was now a pretzel with his ass totally exposed.

Tom strode over to his victim and spit on his penis for lubrication and with no foreplay drove into Steve with all the finesse of bull in a china shop. He pile drove his tool time and time again. He ripped and tore his way to self-gratification. By the time he was done, Steve was only half-conscious. Tom pulled out of the girly man under him and wiped himself off with Steffi's dress he found laying around.

With a self-satisfied smile on his face he turned to Trixie and grabbed her by the hair. "Did you get paid?"

"No, this was a freebee."

"Bullshit! Give me his purse."

Tom dumped out the contents found the wallet and emptied it. In the process he found Steve's security card. "What the fuck, he's a cop. Get him cleaned up and I'll dump him in the alley."

While Trixie was scurrying around gathering his clothes, Tom noticed the empty hypodermic needles on the dresser. "Trixie, what are those? You aren't into drugs again are you?"