The wife finds out her husband is a hidden cross-dresser. What should she do?

My name is Abida. I am a woman between 35 and 40 years old. Recently, I found love and got married with my husband, Aslan. We are a very happy couple. It seems like nothing is missing. I love him and he loves me. We never had a fight in 3 years. Friends of mine have problems with their husbands, with their abuse of alcohol, violence, money spent on gambling and many other things. Aslan has none of these problems.

We live in a poor town, affected by a violent past and present. This place has seen wars, deportation, repatriation, poverty, famine, hyperinflation, corruption, bribery and the rise of (friendly) mafia factions. To the South, lie the Land Of Mountains, where ancient ethnic groups live governed by the Unwritten Law. To the North is the Land Of Nomads, where former nomads now live, mostly Muslims, ruled by their Moral Law. It is a place so diverse, where religions get mixed up and people speak different languages on the street. We grew-up here. Roads are a mess, unrepaired for decades.

People are friendly... but at any moment someone might kill you. But still, I love this place. I find natural and normal what is here and very unusual the world outside.

Well, this story started in a strange way. I went to the mountains, to the shrine of ancient god Actit. I don't know why. something made me go there. As I went there, I seen a small fire. People use to put their offers on fire. I left what I had: a banknote and a pack of cigarettes. As I kneeled, I said:

"Thank you, goddess, for the marriage you gave me. Thank you for everything. Please, watch on my husband, so that he will be healthy and happy. Guide me, goddess, so that I will be a good wife".

Then, I heard the wind blowing suddenly fast and a female voice said to me:

"Your life will change twice. You will suffer, but this will strengthen both of you. This is for the good of you both".

I looked behind, there was nothing. All I could see was a cloud and a smell of tobacco smoke.

**********

Well, that was a few days ago. Today, I return from work. Boss got drunk and we all left the office. Aslan should not be home by now, he is working on a shift until late evening. I go to a shop, buy some cigarettes and something to eat. Then, I go home.

I enter the door, take off my sandals and walk inside the house with my bare pantyhosed shoes. Aslan has a very strong pantyhose addiction. He likes for hours to touch and massage my feet. I like wearing pantyhose, but sometimes this is too much. In the hot summer days, it is not pleasant. But still, I love him and I want to make him happy in any way.

I go to the kitchen and light a cigarette, thinking about what to cook. Should I make him a surprise? Sure. Why not?

Then, I realize that I am not alone. I hear music. What could that be? It looks like the TV is on. Is he home? I go and take a look. What I see, is beyond my wildest imagination.

The TV is on. Aslan is in the bedroom, watching TV. But, oh mine! I see him wearing my black dress. That one is too large for me. I wanted to give it to my mom. I see my wooden bracelets worn on his arms. But the surprise does not end here. I notice he is wearing pantyhose, my black tights. And even more, he wears a pair of my sandals, which hardly fit on his feet. I look puzzled at this, not knowing what to say and what to do. And then, I notice he is smoking. What? Aslan did not smoke. What made him start? Well, he is not quite smoking, but puffing.

Suddenly, he sees me and looks at me. His face looks like that of a thief caught in a jewelry shop. But, oh mine! He has make-up on his face! I see lipstick! This is something I've never seen.

"What a fuck?" I say, leaving the room.

I move out, take my cigarettes, put on my sandals and get out of the house. This happens very fast, like it was not me in control of my feet. I start walking on the streets, not to a specified destination, almost running. I feel a lot of repulsion, hate, anger, anything. "What a fuck?" I whisper. I found the perfect man and then... find out that he is a monster. In the same time, I am crying. Yes, I am crying because I love him. The perfect love. Was he a wolf covered with sheep wool?

I get to a bench and sit down, crying and hardly managing to open the pack, to take a cigarette. What should I do? How could I take this animal? How was that possible? But still... I love him. I am not able to stop this relationship. Still, I have to.

A little girl is playing with a doll in dirt. She sees me crying and comes to me.

"What happened to you?"

"I cannot find my lighter", I say.

"Here", she says, giving me her. "Can you give me a cigarette?"

"Sure", I say, after I light mine.

Tricky children! I was just like them. Exactly like them. She goes back to her doll, playing in the dirt and smoking.

Then comes the Orthodox priest. I know him well. He is born here, is married and has 3 children. He is a good soul. When he sees me crying, he asks, taking a sit on the bench near me:

"Abida, what happened to you?"

"Nothing, Father", I answer, trying to change subject.

"I am here to help you. Is something wrong with work or with your marriage? Wow, you two look like if you were made one for each other".

"On the fuck we are", I answer, with much pain in my voice.

"What happened?"

I hesitate to say. I know well that if anyone will find out, Aslan might get killed. After all, 3 weeks had passed since a gay man was found dead in the middle of the street. If Aslan is considered gay... he will die.

"You know we, priests, are not allowed to tell to anyone anything. We sworn to God this".

I need to tell someone. So, I do, with many tears, crying.

"I found Aslan in the bedroom. He was wearing my clothes and my make-up", I hardly manage to say, crying. "What kind of monster is he? Is he gay? Is he.. what is he?"

The priest takes some wipes to clean my tears, then helps me light another cigarette. Then, he tells me:

"Abida, calm down. Whatever he is, don't take actions too fast. Now, you are driven by your emotions. Please, calm yourself. Go to your parents, go to the park and rest for the day, take a day off. Let your heart calm down a bit and your brain to take control. Whatever decision you take, don't do it fast. Please, take your time. He might be a monster, but for me he looked like a nice and polite guy. Please, calm down, think all day about what happened, then go to him and talk to him. Don't take actions fast, you can take very bad decisions".

"Are you telling me to stay with him?"

"No, Abida. I am not telling you to be with him or to leave him. All I say is don't take actions when you are like this. Please, wait a bit, calm down and think. And when your mind will be clean, you will know what to do".

The priest insists that I should calm down. He stays with me for a half an hour. I feel much better.

I keep on walking on the streets, thinking about what happened. When we moved together, Aslan gave me a bag with pantyhose. He told me that in the cold winter days, when he was working in the night shift, he had not enough time to heat the house. He used these pantyhose to survive the cold winters. Now, I am starting to see a connection between these things. So, he was wearing pantyhose before we met and we formed a couple.

Was I blind? He loves my feet, but only when they are pantyhosed.

What is wrong with this guy? Is he a gay? Certainly, he is not, or at least he never gave me a clue that he might be. We have an active sexual life. It is clear that he loves me just as I love him. This is out of doubt.

I move on and reach the mosque. I feel the need to get inside. So, I open my purse and put my hijab on. But, at the entrance, something tells me to stop. Last week, when I went here, I heard our mullah with an aggressive speech against gay people. "They are servants of Satan and they should not exist in our town. They have only two options: leave or die". And that gay man found dead on the street, he had a note written and tied to his body, saying servant of Satan. I don't think it is a good idea to go to the mosque. So, I take off my hijab and light a cigarette.

Then, I remember a good friend of mine, Astana. She never went to a party, never had a boyfriend and never ever did anything then reading and learning. She works at the library, where all day long she reads. Nobody ever seen her doing anything else then reading or learning. Now, people come to her for advices. She is very smart and knows a lot of things, more then many other people. I never seen her even painting her nails. She always wears a white dress and flip-flops, be it winter or summer. She never drank a glass of alcohol, coffee or even cola. But still, she smokes. She started on her own and this was a powerful shock to everyone, who never imagined her to do such a thing. She never had a relationship and never felt the need to have one, being a perfect asexual.

So, I go to the library, where I find her just where she always is, at her office, with a lot of opened books and two working computers and with a slim cigarette in her mouth.

"Astana..." I say.

"Please wait two minutes", she answers.

I know her very well. I wait. Then, when she finishes, I tell her the whole story, how I found Aslan dressed with my clothes and how I left in a hurry.

"Abida", she says, very calm, "he is not gay. No. More likely, he is a sissy".

"A sissy?" I ask, surprised. "I never heard that word in my life".

"I studied sexual minorities", continues Astana. "Please, take a look at this site" she says, searching something on a computer. "Read this, it will help you".

It is about cross-dressers who hide in the world. They have a secret girly side, that they always keep hidden... and this can keep on forever. They are found in all places of the society. Sometimes, they hide this from their relatives and friends, from their wives and girlfriends for a long time.

They are not easy to recognize by people who don't know how to look, for they hide it very well. It's a secret for all around them, the fear someone finds out but also the urge to dress and look pretty. Most will never tell others around them and hide it as a second life, the girly side. This can work for a long time but most find out that these relations are doomed to break and then the feeling of loneliness is there. Many sissies think they the only one and "I'm not normal". They feel guilty for the break up of their marriage. Strong feelings of losing what they are build up inside. The shame of what they do makes them vulnerable, stressed and uncertain what to do next. Sometimes a partner finds it out and this can end two ways: a divorce or an acceptance. Some women find it interesting to feel that her partner is this way and they can slowly adapt to a new relationship. They will sometimes shop together for women's clothes and have a great life, leading a new life they both like. A few women will develop dominant feelings and these relations are deep and strong if lead in the right way. Then, a sissy gets the chance to dress and live like they always wanted. This relation can be a start of a enslaved sissy ,dressed and controlled by a Mistress in many ways.

"So", I say, "Aslan is a cross-dresser?"

"Yes, more exactly a sissy", says Astana. "He is not gay. What you've seen is a perfect definition of a sissy. He hides his feminine side from everyone. You found it by accident. This is his secret side. He is not violent, nor aggressive, just different".

"But what the fuck should I do?" I ask, with tears in my eyes.

"Abida, there are two ways. First way and the one I would take in your place, try to accept him as he is. Just as it is written here. Do it slowly, not fast. You have to be dominant, to be a ruling mistress. He is listening to all you say and he is doing all what you want, because he is submissive and sissies are like this".

I remain without words. Almost, my cigarette falls down on the ground.

"But it's horrible to see a man dressed like a woman! It looks like he were gay!" I answer, almost shouting.

"This is the other option, leave him. Divorce. It will end all.

Astana is very quiet, like a robot, without any feelings. I know her well.

"I know what you will chose, Abida", she says. "Your love is too strong. You will go to him and accommodate to the situation".

"I will do a fuck!" I say, leaving the room. "I will kill him for not respecting the unwritten law!"

I leave the room very angry, almost smashing the door. But she is right. My love is more powerful then my disgrace. I will return home at sunset and talk with Aslan. Who knows.

If there is any god listening to me, help me! I need all help tonight.

TO BE CONTINUED

After a perfect marriage and having the husband she dreamed, the wife finds out that her husband is a hidden cross-dresser. What would she do? Will she divorce? Or is love strong enough to stop her?

I've seen Aslan, my husband, dressed with my clothes and wearing my make-up. I could not watch this and ran away. It is now late. I should return home. I wander what explanations will he have. But still, I am thinking about what my close friend, Astana, told me. He must be doing this for long, maybe from childhood. Who knows. Maybe he first worn his mother's clothes or his sister's and got addicted to this... at least this is the official explanation.

Can I cure him? Can I send him back to the mainstream population? Astana did not say a word about curing a sissy: Sometimes a partner finds it out and this can end two ways: a divorce or an acceptance. There is no alternative that will last for long. If I try to force him back, what will then happen? He will suffer. Astana showed me the answer of what will happen: But many wives or girlfriends can't accept what their partner does and feel strange that their husband or boyfriend have these needs. They live like strangers under the same roof only sharing a house. Or, again, it will end up in a divorce because there is a loss of trust and love. So, I clearly see what are the options. I have to accept or divorce.

But how can I accept this?

Only 200 m to the house. But, I don't get in. Instead, I go right, on a street that leads to a former classmate from high school. She is nicknamed Adria. We were best friends in high school. And we had a lot of fun together. Now, she no longer is the girl she was. She married a rich state employee and started to feed on his money, like a leech. It was the time before hyperinflation, when state employees had all the power and destroyed the economy with their bribes and ever increasing taxes. In the end, the fragile economy collapsed and hyperinflation destroyed everything, leading to famine. Now, they have far less power, as mafia factions rose from the ash. Still, her husband is a rich man... and she forces him to work harder ever, draining all money she can get.

I reach to their home, a luxurious building. I ring at the door and Adria comes.

"Abida, welcome!" she says. "What brings you here?"

"Adria, I need your help", I say. "I need to talk with you, but you promise to keep this a secret".

"Ok. Just come in".

I take my sandals off, as it is polite to do so at the entrance. She wears make-up even in the house, with a sensual short dress. Her feet are not covered by pantyhose, exposing big, painted toenails and a gold chain around her ankle. She has large gold earrings and a big gold necklace, a symbol of richness.

"Are you alone?" I ask.

"Yes, Abdullah is working late", she answers. "I forced him to work late at night".

We go to the kitchen, where usually people come when they talk. Adria prepares for herself coffee and for me green tea. We both light a cigarette. After all, I learned her how to smoke, in high school.

"What is the problem, Abida?" she asks, blowing smoke through her small lips.

"You know my husband, Aslan?" I say.

"Yes. Nobody thought you will get married ever. Is there a problem with him?"

"Well, for long, I thought he is the perfect husband. We never had a fight, we never had any problems. He always was kind with me and made me a lot of surprises. But..."

I put the cigarette on the ashtray, looking up at the roof. Rooms are very high and all walls are decorated with paintings. So much luxury! I take the cigarette to my mouth, take a deep inhale, then let the smoke out and say it short:

"I found him wearing my clothes and my make-up".

"You what?" says Adria, not understanding.

"I've seen him in the house, in the bedroom. He had no idea that I was coming. He was wearing my black dress, with pantyhose and my sandals. And he had make-up on his face!"

Adria changes her face like she was chewing a lemon.

"For the holly name of Allah, what are you saying?" she says, with disgust in her words. "What a guilty and stinky animal! Abida, how did you find this idiot? I mean, this baboon?"

Her words make me feel shocked. So, this is the attitude I should have about this subject?

"Get rid of him, kiddo!" she says, crushing the cigarette with anger. "Get rid of him! There are men on all roads. I just don't understand why you still live with this baboon".

"I don't know", I say, with a sad voice. "I still love him".

"For the holly name of Allah, get rid of him. Come on, girl, what is wrong with you? Do you want to be killed on the street for hiding such an asshole? What the fuck is in your brain?"

"Should I..." but I don't have a chance to finish what I want to say.

"A man must be dominated through frustration. If your husband wants you to paint your hair blonde, paint it black. If your husband wants to have sex with you, tell him you don't feel well. If he wants cheese, bring him potatoes. Let him see you, but not touch you. That is the secret about men. Hurt him, not too hard because he will get away, but enough to frustrate him. You never listened to me. And by doing so, you force your man to work harder. Abdullah will never do what he did on his own. He would never work late at night, he would never had built this great house. Now, because you showed love to your husband, this is what you've got. Only bad things. He loves pantyhose, you told me once. If I were you, I would have never worn pantyhose again. But not you. You just did what is wrong with him. Come on, kiddo! It is time to change your attitude!"

For about ten minutes, Adria continues with her speech, just like this. I just watch her and smoke. Then, she lights a new cigarette, just as I finish mine.

"He has a feminine side", I say.

"On the fuck with his feminine side!" says Adria, almost screaming. "Men only exist to serve us, women!"

"Maybe there is an alternative way".

Adria looks puzzled at me, then says:

"Remember in school, how many times you said I wish I were a boy? Many people said that you are a man in a woman's body. Maybe he is a woman in a man's body too. If that is the case, on the fuck with you both".

I leave Adria's house. Well, I am not thinking about what she said, but about her poor husband. He took bribe after bribe, only to make her happy. He did everything for her wife, almost up to getting in jail. And when he was nearly imprisoned, Adria told him this: "If you have a problem with justice, then there is nothing more between us". He loved her... and did everything to win the trial, using bribery to convince judges that he was not guilty. In his place, I would divorce at once.

It is starting to get late. But still, I don't want to get home yet. I sit on a bench on the street, thinking about all what happened. Am I a man inside a woman's body? The answer is yes. I start to think about my childhood. How many times I wished I were a boy?

Even now, I feel the need to take a piss. Men just get behind a building, zip their pants off and piss. For a woman, it is more complicated and cannot do this fast enough. Men have no idea how painful is for a woman the menstrual period. You're bleeding and suffering pain. They simply treat you like you are not suffering anything, because they never experienced this.

How easy is for a man to get an erection. It sometimes makes me laugh. For a woman, it's different. They often think that for a woman it's not big deal, the hole is there and nothing needs to be done. Well, they're wrong. The genitals of a woman are far more complicated. We catch infections that they never get. We, women, are far more sensible.

How many women had been raped in this town? How many times this happened? And how many men had been raped? Nearly no one. Many of us ended-up as sfenists or went insane after a sexual abuse. What do men understand from all this? Nothing. And how could they actually understand something?

Yes, many times I wished I were a man. Well, not completely. If it would be possible and mainly if society would accept this, I would like to transform myself into something between. I would like to have a woman body, but to have a penis. To be a shemale. That would be fine. I've seen shemales on a TV documentary. At that time, I was a child and I thought they were born this way. Later, I found out that a shemale usually gets born as a man, but transforms himself (or herself) into a woman, by using hormones and surgery.

When I was a teen, that was my fantasy. I dreamed about this. How would it be for guys, trying to seduce me and trying to fuck me... to find out that I have a penis and I want to fuck them instead? That should be a good punishment for all perverts in this town.

I cannot have children. So, wearing the woman genitals is useless for me, anyway. To be a shemale, would be just perfect.

I remember a scene from school. The toilette was not working. boys started to piss on a wall behind the school. We, girls, could just watch, we couldn't do this. For us, it was impossible. We had to wait and get home.

And here comes the hardest part of all. Being a woman and having the genitals of a woman, comes with great risks. I know two women who died from uterus cancer, but I know no guy who died from penis cancer. Yes, old men suffer from prostate diseases, but they are old, not teen, nor sexually active. They lived their lives.

After thinking about all this, I have the courage to move on, to go into the house and talk with Aslan. Maybe, it is not so hard as it seems. I always dreamed to be a boy... or at least a shemale. I have my masculine side. Why shouldn't also men have a feminine side?

**********

As I get closer to the house, I hear noise. Two drunk men are trying to make it home. Somewhere around, I hear screaming. Who knows, could be another fight. People get killed all the time in here. Unwritten laws govern this place. If you don't know them, you're dead in an instant. There is no police that will ever come to save you. If they will ever come, they do it for bribery and not to save you. Well, at least till now, I managed to survive.

I enter the house. immediately, I notice something. It smells good. Aslan cooked something for me. I see he washed the floor. Is he trying to be nice after all this? He made me tea and cookies. I can see all clothes are washed too and placed on a rope to dry. He is trying to offer me a present so that I will forget him.

Then, I see him. He is dressed like a man in all aspects. He comes to me and says:

"Where have you been? I am worried, it is late".

"Nowhere", I answer.

"I thought something bad happened to you".

He is worried about me. And he really is, not hiding this. I know him well. Is this the man I wanted to divorce? And what for? For wearing women clothes? Oh, that is disgusting anyway.

We go to the kitchen and eat in silence. We talk nothing. He is silent, feeling guilty for what he has done. Well, he is... from a point of view. We finish eating. Then, he offers me a cup of tea, like always. I offer him a cup of milk with honey, which helps him go to sleep. Then, I light a cigarette.

"Here, take one", I say. "I've seen you smoking".

"I don't actually smoke", he says.

"No need to hide from me, I insist", I answer.

He takes the cigarette and puffs.

"Not like this", I say. "You have to take it deep, inside your lungs, not in your mouth. Only then you will feel the pleasure of smoking like I do".

He listens to me and coughs.

"Try to inhale less smoke", I say. "It takes practice, but once you've got it, you will never stop".

He listens to me and does exactly what I am saying. I see on his face that he is scared, like a caught thief waiting in a trial court. He starts to feel dizzy and coughs again.

"So, for how long have you been cross-dressing?" I ask him short.

His face becomes red and his tongue locked. He wants to speak but is unable to find the proper words.

"Honestly"... he says.

"Tell me the truth", I continue. "Did you start by wearing your mother's clothes?"

"Well, I"...

"I guess the answer is yes", I say, short.

His face turns from red to pale white.

"Please don't lie to me", I say then.

"I will never ever do that again", he says.

"No, not like that", I say. "I am not asking you never to do that again. I am upset because you lied to me. You never told me about your secret side. It took me time to find out. Don't lie to me again. it is better to tell me the truth, since we are together for the rest of our lives".

"I decided to hide you this because I was sure you will reject me".

His answer is true. I would had rejected him if I knew about this. But I knew nothing until now.

"Everyone would reject me for this. I think I need a psychological treatment. I am just an asshole with a stupid addiction".

"Do you think you can handle yourself and never again wear women clothes?" I ask.

He says nothing for a while, then answers:

"I do".

I look deep inside his eyes. Something makes me think he will try, because he loves me. But, in the same time, I think about what Astana told me: They live like strangers under the same roof only sharing a house. Is this what I want? Is this what he wants? And without the fulfillment of love, what is the purpose of a marriage? None.

"I don't believe you", I say. "You did this before and you will do this in the future. Since we were together, you did this on some occasions".

"How do you know?" he asks me.

Well, I didn't know, just asked him, to convince myself that this is the truth.

"I just know", I say.

"And you still love me, after all this", he whispers.

I kiss him.

"How couldn't I love you, silly?"

"I am sorry", he says. "I am guilty for all this".

"I think it is time for us to have no more secrets", I say.

We go to bed. Just like always, he hugs me and we sleep together in this position. Yes, he loves me and I love him.

In the morning, I ask him to give me some money, without telling him anything. He gives me what I asked. Then, we eat breakfast, we smoke together and go to work. I give him a pack of cigarette for work. Well, it was a hard day. The good part is that our relationship did not meltdown. But still, seeing him dressed like a woman is something I find disgraceful. I don't think that I will ever cope with it.

TO BE CONTINUED

The wife found out that her husband has a hidden side as a sissy. What would she do?

Note from the author: Some people commented about the many smoking scenes described, while others commented about the fact that gay people are killed. For those, I give the answer. Unlike most stories in BCTS, which are located in the Civilized World (Western Europe and America), the story I write happens somewhere else. I decided to write this because nobody did. Even in secluded places like where I live, transgender people and sexual minorities exist (even if they are different from the Civilized World, for example we don't have many gay people, but we have lots of sfenists, like myself). These people have a harsh life, that nobody knows about. And despite risking their lives, most of them don't change into the mainstream population.

And about the excessive smoking that you will see, mostly in women, here is the answer. It is a sign of emancipation, of freedom. Women in Islam are discriminated. There are also other cultures that discriminate women. A woman that smokes symbolizes that she is independent, free to take her own decisions. It is like the Torches Of Freedom movement that occurred in America around the 60's and 70's. Some people say that we are 50 years behind the Civilized World. Well, smoking ban does not exist here and cigarettes, which are very cheap, reached even little children. I started smoking at the age of 6 and still I am perfectly healthy.

**********

Yesterday I found my husband, Aslan, wearing woman clothes, my clothes more exactly. I had a hard day. I cried, but finally I managed to recover. No matter how disgusting it might be, I love him and this love is stronger then anything.

In the morning, we go to work. I asked him to give me some money, which he gave me without question. At that moment, I had in mind to buy him some women clothes, so that he will no longer wear mine. I go through the bazaar, looking for clothes. But, something stops me. Why should I do that? Is it ok what I am doing?

Am I not ready to commit a big sin?

On the way, I think about what I know.

In Islam, a transgender person is named Mukhannathun. It looks like some of them were even servants of the Prophet. According to holy texts, they are accepted as long as they don't use their physical aspect for prostitution. Many Islam scholars ban gay people. Many consider that the correct punishment is death. But transgender people? This is another story, which varies on interpretation.

The Christian world is different and strongly divided. There are sects that go to the extreme. I have no idea what the Catholic Church says about LGBT people. The Orthodox Church strongly bans gay people, with a punishment of many years without religious services. Gay people are called children of Sodom. What is interesting, is that the Orthodox Church bans people who practice cross-dressing, while transgender people are even strongly discriminated, but by far not like gay people. They force sfenists to get married and have sexual relations.

The place where I live is ruled by some moral codes, which are transmitted from person to person, from generation to generation. People in the mountains name this Unwritten Law, while people in the plains name it Moral Law. These laws are strongly against gay people. The Unwritten Law says: If you find a man making love with another man, give him two options: run or die. For lesbians, things are different, because the first human built by the Altar was Actit, a god-woman which gave birth to Adam and Eve. So, killing a woman is considered a tremendous sin and is punished with humiliating death. The Moral Law is different. For gay people, it says like this: If a man makes love with another man, send them both out of your land. Anyone who hides them or touches them is impure and should be forced to live outside the village for 100 days. But, either laws don't say a thing about cross-dressing and transgender people.

There is also a 5th law, Communism, which many people respect, without knowing much about it. Some even worship Lenin as a god. In this law, all LGBT people are discriminated and forced into the mainstream population, like everyone who is not behaving or dressing decently.

But still, where in these laws is written anything against transgender people or at least against cross-dressers? In all four laws, the interpretation is that a man that dresses and behaves like a woman is associated with a gay person. It is not the same sin, but part of it.

"What a fuck have you entered into?" I whisper to myself.

I leave the bazaar without buying anything. As I am getting close to work, I start to sing for myself: "When I came to Spain, I've seen myself a party. I told to myself, what a fuck! All day, all night. All day, all night..."

At work, I keep thinking. Am I doing a big sin? Will my flesh rot on the shores of hell for this? I sometimes go to the mosque, but also to the church and to the shrines. This is how I, like many people here, grew-up, in a religious freedom. There are also atheists here. Complete religious freedom. But, am I not just about to commit a huge sin, living with a man that crosses gender barriers?

Me? Certainly, it is a sin. But for Aslan, he might have no way to get out from hell, for what he has done, wearing women clothes.

But still... I love him and my love is too strong. It was Eve who gave Adam the apple... but now Adam gives Eve a more cursed and dangerous fruit.

All day at work, I keep on thinking about this. Should I or should I not? Would it be better for me to leave him or to accept him as he is? Would it be better for me to sacrifice my love for the gods? But, on the other hand, the gods gave me the perfect husband, the man of my dreams. It was Actit who gave me this marriage. Gods are superior beings, they don't fight one with each other, they don't have jealousy and understand our imperfections.

What should I do?

After finishing work, I leave to a different place. There is another cross-dresser in our town, but with a completely different story. Everyone knows him as a Muslim woman, Jasmine. But the truth is completely different. Jasmine is in fact a man, a former KGB agent which had to hide in here, to save his life. I am one of the only people who knows his previous life, because I helped him pass to our lands. Dmitry, as his real name is, had the mission to kill the children of a politician. He refused. The next day, as a punishment, his parents were found dead in their house. Dmitry managed to save his family, forcing them to runaway to a remote place. He saved them, but lost any contact with them. To save his life, he simulated his death in a suicide car accident.

Now Dmitry - Jasmine lives in our town. Everyone knows her as a widow Muslim woman, who does cleanup at the mill, living and sleeping there. She is a nobody for most people. Well, things are not quite like that. Jasmine still operates on her own and is a relay station. She buys and sells information.

I go to Jasmine, with a cup of coffee, some food and a pack of cigarettes. She is where she always is, working with a broom in the mill.

"Jasmine, I brought you something", I say. "A sandwich for you and one for me" (this means, come to your house, we have something to talk).

"Was it expensive?" she asks (meaning, what is this about?)

"Paprika flavor", I answer (smells danger).

She does not like to go downtown, to be seen by many people. So, she is happy when someone brings food and other commodities. We go to her house, which looks very bad on the outside, but on the inside hosts a plasma TV, a fridge and many luxuries that many people cannot afford here. She locks the door, takes off her hijab and her robe. Now, I can see the face of a 50 years old man, with long hair and women clothes. I've seen Jasmine becoming Dmitry many times, but I never felt any form of disgrace for this. Why do I feel about Aslan?

"What is it, kiddo?" asks Dmitry, with a more man-like voice.

He still calls me kiddo, because I was a teen when I helped him get here.

"Well", I say, "it is not something for business. It is something personal. I want an advice".

"What for?"

I describe him all the story, how I found Aslan wearing women clothes and how I roamed a whole day not knowing what to do. I tell him what is in my mind, how much I love him and how much a part of me is against this.

"So, you want my advice", he says, finishing smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee.

"Yes. How much?" I ask, knowing that everything is for money.

"For free", he says. "Do you think that killing someone is a greater or smaller sin then being gay?"

This question lets me puzzled.

"Far greater", he says. "And I killed, you know well. So, I am a far greater sinner then you or Aslan. Do you want a second advice? I give you also for free. Family is above everything. Have you any idea how much I suffer in every night, thinking about my wife and children? Where are they now? I cannot send them anything. I just wanted not to see their airplane ticket, so I will not know where they're heading, if someone will find and torture me. These are the important things, that we live for. If you really love Aslan, you must be ready to go through the knees of hell for him. Do you think my wife would not have done the same if she were me? Be sure she would. This is why I simulated a suicide, to make sure she will not return".

His words leave me shocked, immobile like a stone.

Dmitry becomes Jasmine, putting her hijab and returning to her broom. I also leave the mill.

This time, I go straight to the bazaar. May it be a sin, I don't care. My decision is made. Even if we will rot in hell for this, we will be together. There still is a large part of me, screaming in my head, that I am committing a big sin and I should stop, but I try with all my resources to not listen to it.

In the bazaar, I buy a red dress that should fit him, a bra, women pants, pantyhose, a make-up kit, a lipstick and plastic sandals. I just hope they are the correct size. It will be disgusting for me to see him dressed like this, but maybe, in time, I will get used. I just hope so.

From there, I hurry home, to get before him. But then, I have to return, to buy something to eat and two packs of cigarettes. I arrive before him, just in time for a big surprise. The new clothes are on the bed, waiting him, while food is ready in the kitchen.

**********

When he comes, I say:

"Food is ready, let's eat together".

"Wait me to change clothes", he answers.

"No, please, let's eat now, I just finished cooking".

"Ok, then", he answers, sitting near me.

We eat, then we smoke a cigarette together. I feel a lot of tension. My blood is boiling.

"Is anything wrong with you?" he asks.

"I don't feel ok", I answer. "It might be because it was very hot at the office".

"Ah, poor you, I'll give you a glass of water with ice".

"No, thanks. I just want to rest a bit. Go upstairs and change. Your clothes are on the bed, then come back here".

As he goes to the bedroom, I feel huge tension inside me. I am like a volcano ready to erupt, like a star ready to go supernova. If he will refuse, after all this, I'll kill him. It is already too much for me what is happening. But if he accepts? To see him like a woman... I am already dead. I suck a cigarette like crazy, trying to calm myself, but it is no use. Then, I finish it and drop the filter in the ashtray. I don't know why, my anger vanishes and I feel no longer stressed. I even start to sing:

"When I came to Spain, I found myself a party.

I told to myself: what a fuck?

All day, all night.

All day, all night..."

When I came to Spain... I sing this, looking on the window. In the middle of our town, there is a manmade hill, that was once the tomb of an ancient king. On top of that hill lies the statue of Lenin, remembering people of an era that is long gone. The statue is visible from my window. It is a huge one, made of concrete, but slowly ruining.

"What does Lenin has to do with Spain?" I whisper, laughing.

I laugh, thinking about Aslan, with the new clothes, hanging on top of the statue... in Spain.

"All day, all night..."

Am I getting crazy?

Aslan is not coming from bedroom. In this crazy mood, I decide to go to him, laughing and whispering for myself:

"What a fuck!"

I open the door.

TO BE CONTINUED

The wife found out that her husband has a feminine side as a sissy. She decides to accept him as he is... but will she?

I had a perfect marriage and a perfect relationship, but two days ago I found my husband, Aslan, dressed in my clothes. I had a terrible fight with myself. I stressed my nerves to maximum and almost agreed to divorce. But, in the end, I accepted things as they are. A few minutes ago, I was under such tension, like a star waiting to go supernova. I almost exploded. Then, suddenly, I started to laugh and say ramble words. It is like my brain just gave-up. Or am I going mad?

I waited for Aslan to come from bedroom with the new clothes, but he didn't come.

"What a fuck" I sing for myself.

I go to open the door. If he refuses, I feel like I need to kill him. If he accepts and is dressed as a woman, I think I will kill him either. But, either way, I am singing and I feel happy. My brain did not explode, it made a short-circuit. My fuses are out.

I open the door.

"What a fuck" I say, with loud voice.

Aslan is here, dressed in his normal home clothes, not wearing what I brought. He just left them on the bed, where I placed them. I think I am getting angry.

"Now, listen, infidel", I say, almost shouting. "After all what you did, now what is in your mind? I order you to get dressed with these!"

He looks at me, puzzled and refusing what I want.

"My love, what and why?" he says.

I can see a guilty look in his eyes. Yes, a sense of guilty.

"After all this? You caused me two days of extreme stress", I say, with anger. "Now, get dressed with what I both you, at once!"

"No", he says, with a firm voice. "I am a man and I will get dressed as a man. What happened was an accident and it will never repeat".

"What happened is your secret feminine side. It happened before and it will certainly repeat when I will be missing from home", I say, with anger in my voice.

"Please forgive me", he says.

He is like a thief, begging for mercy, saying "I will never do this again, I swear". But I know well the look of a thief, that will go again for a robbery once you let him go.

"No, I don't forgive you", I say with a harsh voice. "Only the priest forgives under his dress, I don't".

"I am sorry and I regret all what I've done", he tries to defend himself.

"What do you think you did wrong"? I ask. "Wearing my clothes or the fact that you lied to me"?

"Both", he answers. "And I promise none will ever happen again".

At that moment, I feel like going to explode. After all I've been through, after all the fight in my brain, now he refuses to wear these clothes.

"On the fuck with you!" I scream.

Suddenly, he accepts. He starts to take off his male clothes, down to the point where he is naked. Then, he starts to put on the clothes I both. First the underpants, then the pantyhose. Oh mine, what a mess! His feet are hairy! They look horrible under the hose layer! He needs to be epilated. Then, he takes on the bra and the dress. And finally, he takes the sandals.

"Stand up", I order.

He listens to me instantly. I examine him. A man in woman clothes! It doesn't fit well. Something is wrong. First, his feet, with all that hair on them, don't look girly at all. Second, he is a bit too fat for a woman. Women look different at their crotch then men and have a different type of waist. Third, as I look up, I notice that the bra does not fit him well. For a woman, the breasts form a bit upper and are visible above the bra. For a man, with no real breasts, holes form where breasts should be.

Even more, his arms are more hairy then mine.

But the main difference comes when I look at his face. He has the face of a man. He is shaved, but still, even if perfectly shaved, women don't have their face completely uncovered of hair. If you look very close, there is some hair on a woman's face, where a man would have mustache or beard.

Instead of making me throw-up, I start to arrange his clothes. I take make-up and start to work with his face. How to make him more feminine? Let's take care of the lashes first, then add some color around his eyes. Not much, but there must be a bit. I add some pink powder on his chicks and his beard, to look more girlish. then, let's add some lipstick!

All this time, his face looks like a caught thief waiting to enter prison. It looks like I am enjoying this more then he is.

The next thing, I want to paint his fingernails, but I realize that tomorrow people will laugh at him at work. So, I just glue him some fake nails.

"Take a look at yourself in the mirror", I say.

He does exactly that.

"How do you look?" I ask.

"A lot better then when I did this by myself", he answers.

"But still, it is not good", I say. "You still look somehow like a man".

It is somehow true. He should need facial surgery and breast implants to look like a woman. But still, he doesn't look like those gay guys, dressed in women clothes, that I've seen on TV. No, he looks much better.

"Thank you", he says. "This is a well guarded secret that not even my parents knew."

"Don't worry, you are not the only one", I say.

"Really?" he asks surprised, with big eyes.

"Really", I say, with a small smile. "What you are is called a sissy".

I tell him the term in English, in my native language it doesn't exist.

"I never heard about", he answers.

"At work, I made a research on my own", I say. "I found hundreds of men like you, with the same addiction. You are not the only one".

In fact, I lie. The only thing I did read is the article showed to me by my friend Astana. Well, I take a cigarette for me and one for him. I sit on the bed and invite him to sit too.

"Take one smoke", I say. "This will relax you".

As I sit near him, I examine his body. His now pantyhosed feet are visible as the dress ends at his knees. They are lighter then mine. His body, now hidden behind the red dress, is that of a man, but it looks like that of a fat woman. But it is the face that doesn't fit well. What should I do about that? Is it possible to do something?

He sits near me and smokes. He hardly inhales anything, while I take the smoke deep inside my lungs. I see in his eyes submission and fulfillment. He is happy. As for me, I am surprised that I don't feel the rejection I expected to feel. Well, it is not something I like. Still, I am happy that I managed to make him happy.

Since I was a child, the man I dreamed was one full of muscles. I liked to watch movies with Schwarzenegger. The Terminator series or The Running Man, for example. I dreamed how good would feel to rest my head on his arm, on his powerful biceps, to feel the muscles inside. This is what made me horny when I was a teen, this was the perfect model for a man: full with muscles, with power. I also liked to see hair on a man's abdomen. Another thing that I enjoyed was to see men smoking cigars. For a woman, smoking cigarettes is a sign of independence, especially in a society with Islam influences, like this town. For a man, smoking cigars is associated with the rude and tough guy, ready to fight with everyone.

Well, Aslan is not a man full of muscles and until recently he was not even a smoker. But still, he showed his love to me on so many occasions, that he won my heart quickly.

I examine his body and caress him, with these new clothes. In the same time, he starts to touch me, to massage my feet with his hands. He loves to do this, I know it very well. His feet don't feel like mine. With all the hair on them, they feel somehow different.

Then I notice he tries to move his feet, his thighs more exactly. I know it, don't need to explain me. His penis got hard. Touching my feet has this effect. But now, with his girly clothes, something different happened. He was turned on much faster and more powerful then before. It might be an aphrodisiac for him, but not for me. How on Earth can I make love with a man dressed as a woman? Knowing that he will try to seduce me and we will go to bed, I stand-up and say it shortly:

"I think this is enough for today! It is time to take off your cloths and get dressed for bed. Go and wash yourself, tomorrow we go to work"!

He listens to what I say, without a comment. His face shows submission and fulfillment. But what surprises me is the huge sexual impact this kind of clothing had on him. This might work for him, but for me, I need him as a man and not as a woman. Who knows, maybe we will get to a formula somehow and after a while.

As he gets to bed, he tries to seduce me, to kiss and to hug me. He is really turned on, while I am exhausted by all the stress of the day. Even if I have no power left in my body, I accept to make love with him, but it is he who enjoys all this up to the sky.

**********

The next day, he wakes-up before me, while I hardly get out of bed in time to reach work. I feel like all was a dream. I am so confused, that I need to look at the female clothes I just both for him. No, it was not a dream, only that my brain ceased to operate when a fuse went off somewhere inside my head. I feel shocked of how could I sit near a man dressed like a woman. But still, I know this will happen again and again and again.

TO BE CONTINUED

The wife found out that her husband is a hidden cross-dresser. Very hard for her, she accepts this. Will she adapt to the situation?

Five days had passed since I found my husband, Aslan, wearing my clothes. After a hard fight with myself, I accepted the impossible. I both him some woman clothes and forced him to cross-dress. Then, two days passed without any incident. He remained a man in all aspects. We never talked about this. I am starting to accept things as they are. After all, I just don't know other woman in this town to be as happy as I am. Just think that he never shouted at me and never came home drunk. If cross-dressing is his only problem, then I think I can live with this.

He brought me flowers and a new pair of plastic sandals. How many times he made me such pleasant surprises? This happens almost every week. A week ago, he brought me a wooden bracelet and two packs of cigarettes. Tomorrow we have our free day. After five days of work, we have a free day. Usually, when this happens, we go to the forest and relax, enjoying the beauty of nature.

As I return from work, I see something that is really horrible for most wives. Junit, a former classmate, is trying to make her husband, Amsid, to go home. Amsid is drunk on the street, full with mud. Certainly he felt into the many holes that are along the roads. Poor Junit! I know her very well. She comes from a poor family, with an alcoholic father and a depraved mother. Her only chance to get out of that family was to get married. She felt from purgatory to hell. Amsid beats her. He drinks all the money in the house. She has no home, no other place to go. Her life is tighten to this infidel.

"Junit, what the fuck"? I say. "Drunk again"?

"Abida", she says, "he did not come home last night. I found him in a pit".

"Ok", I say. "Let's get this infidel out of here!"

We both fight to push or carry Amsid home. No way, he refuses. Luckily, we are close to the bazaar. I go there and ask Ahmed, a close friend, to borrow me a wheelbarrow. With the help of a man passing by, we put Amsid in and start pulling him all the way home.

"You, bitch!" he shouts to Junit. "I will drink your blood and piss on your liver!"

"Just shut up, infidel!" I say, not interested.

I give Junit a cigarette, as I light one for me.

"He doesn't let me smoke", she whispers.

"Then, I insist", I say, forcing her.

"Give me a cigarette!" mumbles Amsid from the wheelbarrow. "I'll put the dogs on you! Help! Help! Call the militia! They're taking me to the slaughter house!"

I just ignore this rotten piece of meat that dares to be called a husband. I just look at Junit. She is still gorgeous, even if she is heading to 40 years old. Her body is nearly perfect. She does not deserve such an idiot. I look at her feet, her toenails are not painted, her sandals are old and repaired with wires. Her hands host no bracelets. Aslan is such a lovely man compared to this... garbage that we carry. I just look at my pantyhosed toes encased in new sandals and at my bracelets.

We reach the destination and drop Amsid in the house, just behind the door. He mumbles:

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!"

"Drop dead, asshole!" I answer, putting my sandal on his stomach.

"Abida, no!" says Junit.

This is why many women remain with such animals that dare to call themselves husbands. Because of love. This remembers me of how lucky I am. Well, we leave him near the door. We take off our sandals. Junit washes her feet with water from a bucket, taking off the mud from the road. I cannot do this with pantyhose on. We go to the kitchen and light another cigarette. She serves me with milk and cookies and we talk. Then, at a moment, I decide to tell her about Aslan. First, I ask her to keep this a secret, then I tell her that I found him wearing my clothes.

"What?" she says, with her eyes wide opened.

"I don't know, he has a strange addiction", I say.

"Abida, what animal you've got as a husband? Oh mine! Is he gay? Get rid of him while you still can! People will kill you both when they find out".

"Junit, he is not gay at all. Do you think it is better to live with an alcoholic?" I ask, surprised of her words.

"Many people drink", she says, "but the life with an alcoholic is a nightmare. Perhaps you are right. But if anyone finds out about this, he will get killed".

After I stay a little more, I leave Junit. Amsid sleeps, drunk, at the door. As I leave them, I see someone I know. It is a woman, Aisha, with her little daughter, Cinderella. She lives alone. Cinderella is the result of a sexual abuse. Aisha was raped by Mupus, a guy who was crazy in love with her. Aisha never completely recovered completely. She ended-up as a sfenist. Her parents forced her to get married with Mupus. She refused and ran away in a mountain village. Later, Mupus raped another woman and was killed in revenge by her husband.

Why do women have to suffer like this?

I return to the bazaar, to buy some rice and potatoes. But, I see something. I see some ripped woman jeans, that would fit me perfectly. It would be nice to wear them. Aslan loves to pierce his fingers through the holes and touch my pantyhosed feet. Then, I see another pair, a bit larger, that would fit him perfectly. Still, something inside me tells me to stop, but I buy it. Why not? Is it better to have a violent alcoholic husband or one with a feminine side? I also buy two pairs of white, demi-opaque pantyhose. This should be a nice surprise for him tomorrow, when we go to the forest.

**********

The next day, after we have breakfast, we head for the woods. We have our special place, at a few km from town. It is the first place where we came, it is where we had our first kiss and we first talked continuously for an hour. It is a small concrete platform surrounded by dense vegetation. It was Aslan's secret place, where he used to go when he had problems. Now, it is ours. We take a blanket, a glass of water and some food.

"I have a small surprise for you", says Aslan, after we put the blanket down and we sit. "Close your eyes and wait".

I do as he says. When I open my eyes, I see ice cream. I kiss him, then I say:

"I also have surprise for you".

"Should I close my eyes?"

"No".

I unpack the jeans and the pantyhose I secretly brought here.

"Abida, oh no!" he says, half surprised and half scared to see this.

"Why did you do this?" he asks.

"I did it for you", I answer. "I thought you will like it".

"Yes, I do, but..."

"But what?"

"You spent money on them", he tries to find an excuse. "You shouldn't".

"And you spent money on ice cream too", I answer with a smile.

"Yes, but you shouldn't, Abida".

"You know, it is polite not to refuse and to take what someone gives to you".

"So, you want me to wear them?"

"Right now", I say.

By saying this, I start to undress, then to change to these new clothes. He hesitates a little, then starts to do the same. In a few minutes, we are completely changed and we enjoy our ice creams.

Just as I expected, he starts to touch my feet, to put his fingers in the holes of my trousers, to feel the smooth pantyhose texture. In one large hole he can fit his entire hand. I like to be caressed like this. what is different, is that he does this with more passion then before.

I look at his body. Now, he clearly looks like a man, at least from belly to top. From belly to toes, he looks more like a woman. Through the gaps in his trousers, I see the smooth, white texture of pantyhose, but I also see hair on his feet. Next time, I have to do something about this. But still, because the feet are not completely exposed and these pantyhose are more opaque, the appearance is different. His feet sure look more girly.

"Aslan, please tell me, where do you got this strange addiction?" I say, looking deep into his eyes.

"I don't know if I can give you an exact answer".

"When did you first wear women clothes?"

He stops, thinking, while I light a cigarette, placing my head on his shoulder.

"I think I was 15 or something like that. No, I was 17 or 18. I am not sure. But long before that, I loved to see women clothes, to watch women. I was not attracted by them, nor I tried to seduce a girl. I was just watching their clothes. Well, it all started much earlier. I was much younger, in the 5th class I think or a bit younger. That was the first time I had a sexual desire, even if I could not understand at that age what happened. There was a girl in school, chewing gum and blowing bubbles. I think it was the first time I was in love, only that I did not know what love is. She used to blow bubbles and I watched amazed her".

"Bubbles?" I ask, not understanding what is the connection.

"Instead, I considered that I wanted chewing gum. So, the next day I both chewing gum for myself. It gave me a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment. At least that is what I considered at that time. Then, I don't know exactly. I think I was in the 7th grade, so probably 15 years old. I've seen in the bazaar a woman that had too much lipstick on her lips, chewing gum. I also considered that I wanted a lipstick, just as previously I considered I wanted chewing gum. So, this is what happened. I stolen my mother's lipstick and behind close doors I colored my lips. This deviation started when I was a teen, because in school I was a book grinder and no girl was attracted to me".

"I know, you told me once you had almost no girls in your life".

"As you had almost no guys in yours", he says.

"True", I add. "But, when did you wear women clothes for the first time? And what motivated you to do such a thing?"

It was in high school, the first year", says Aslan. "Well, boys liked to watch girls. One day, I was with two guys, watching lovers in secret, how they kiss. They were much older then us. We knew that they will sit on a bench, so, one of us tried to make them an unpleasant surprise and dropped some glue on the bench. The woman was unlucky to sit on the glue. I remember, she had short blue dress and skin-colored pantyhose. She ripped her pantyhose there. I don't know why, but when I seen her pantyhose remaining glued to the bench, just like bubblegum remains on your face, it turned me on like never did before. She was probably angry, but all I remember is her ripped pantyhose, with a big hole on her thigh and a series of run-offs that were making their way down to her ankle. Guys were hardly hiding their laugh, but I was watching amazed".

"And from this, what happened?" I ask, listening carefully and trying to understand how things work in his mind.

"Not immediately", he continues, because there was no way I could do that. First, as high school began, I had an attraction to chewing gum. I remember that a girl left her chewing gum under her desk. After classes, when nobody was in the class, I took it and chewed it. I was also fascinated by women lingerie, but I always thought this is too much and I should avoid thinking about it. bubblegum was innocent. And then, something happened".

"What?" I ask, lighting another cigarette.

"I found a pair of pantyhose in the forest", he says. "If it were underpants or a bra, I would not touch them, as I thought it was too much. But pantyhose, this is not something so intimate. So, I took them to study. I was amazed how they fit into a small box, then cover the feet completely. Just like a bubble of gum, they are elastic. I remember up to this day, they were ripped and dirty. Guess I was in the first class at high school. At that time, I was not so excited to wear them, because they were dirty".

"So, that's when it started", I say as a conclusion.

"I worn them for a while, secretly, while sleeping. I tried to wear my mother's twice, but no longer. The second time I did, she did not find hers and started to search the whole house. Finally, I placed them in the basket with dirty clothes, hoping that she will have no idea I took them".

"Only pantyhose or was it something else?"

"Yes, a blouse, an elastic blouse that belongs to my mother. I worn it for a night".

"I see".

"Then I found again pantyhose in a ditch and I worn those for a while. Then, I found another pair, but it was too ripped. Finally, I found leggings and I think my mother found them, because I never found them again and that day she was angry. But, she never said a word about. Most often, I used make-up when my parents were not home for a long period of time. It took me a lot of time and courage to go and buy myself for the first time a pair of pantyhose. That happened after I found women sandals in a pile of garbage. It took me a week to have the courage to enter a shop... and I got some very tight, squeezing tight".

"Wrong number", I say.

"Yes".

I look at his feet, thinking about. What is so strange about him? Is it something that wrong to justify a divorce? By far, no. I remember from my childhood and from when I was a teen. Once, I both men socks from the bazaar. When I realized what they are, I felt so excited, it is like I became more masculine only by wearing those.

Another time, I made a bet with a boy at school. He was playing football. I said: "I can play better then you". He answered: "I bet everyone will laugh at you if you play". My answer was "Really?" He answered: "If you win, I take my shoes off". And we changed places. He watched and I played with other guys. "Your shoes or my shoes", I said. Well, everyone agreed that I played better then he did. So, I won. I took his shoes and he left with bare feet. I felt myself proud only to wear men shoes... I was a man.

So, again, is there any difference? Only that Aslan got too far and now there is no way back for him. For me, things ended in a bad way. When my parents found out, they beaten me and forced me to bring the shoes back.

And about his addiction with my feet, I think it is only an exaggeration, not a disease. The thing I did not know, is that men have such fetishes. When I was a teen, I was fascinated about men with muscles and of men smoking cigars. At that time, there was still a functional cinema in town. I remember when they placed posters about an action movie, with main character a soldier. He was so powerful and smoking a cigar... I stolen a poster and kept it hidden for weeks. Later, I placed in my room. I must confess that I even masturbated thinking about that soldier. I was in love with him.

Well, what is so different in his story then in my story? I also had almost nobody in my life until late, until I found him. All guys were only looking for sex and... my body is not for sale.

We stay in the wild for a few hours, endless talking. Then, we start kissing. Oh mine! It might be a shame to say, but when we decided to be together, we both did not know exactly how to kiss. We continue to kiss and hug each other. With his face covered with make-up, I felt repulsion against him. But now, only with his feet transformed and his head resembling a man, I don't feel anything to stop me. So, we can make love without a problem.

**********

Later, we return from the forest, after he changes back to his normal clothes. As we return to the town, a woman that is looking for dried branches on the ground, says to us:

"Two pigeons return, beak in beak. May love make you both happy!"

We walk our way back home. People follow their everyday lives. Many people walk, others ride bikes, horse carriages and wrecked cars. The statue of Lenin is still there, above that ancient king's tomb. Two men scream one at each other: "I'll kill you!" Children play on the street, farmers carry their goods.

This is the town at the End Of The World. A place many would consider chaos, but we consider home. It is a place where so different people live together. Everyone is very friendly here... but in the same time, everyone can kill you.

TO BE CONTINUED

The wife found out her husband is a hidden cross-dresser. How far is she going to accept this?

About two weeks passed since I found my husband, Aslan, wearing my clothes and my make-up. At first, I was upset to see this. But then, I decided to accept things as they are. Since then, I also looked on the internet, to learn more about this subject. I found other women who abandoned their husbands or boyfriends for this. But I also found many who accepted and transformed this into a great romance. So, I decided to study this subject.

such a man is often called a sissy. Until recently, I had no idea that this term exist. It certainly does not exist in my language. I found out that in many cases a sissy can become gay or even something more incredible... can become a transgender person. In that case, things can go to the extreme, up to gender surgery. In that case, he will no longer be a he but a she. Either way, our relationship will go to a halt, to a wall that I cannot pass. It will all end. Well, gender surgery is impossible in our town and by far we don't have money to afford something like that anywhere.

I have to do something. I have to find out if things are really going to go that far and if so, I have to draw a limit.

And also, if anyone outside this door finds out, nobody knows what is going to happen. Gay people are killed in this part of the world. If anyone considers him or me to be gay/lesbian, we are doomed. The problem is that I told a few people about his cross-dressing. Just hope they will keep their mouths shut.

**********

Today, I arrived home from work before him. I sit at our computer, reading about these subjects: sissy, transgender and gay. I am so concentrated, that I smoke four cigarettes in a row, without even noticing it. I am thinking what to do. He needs a lesson, to see how painful it is to be a woman.

Aslan is coming home. I hear the door opening. I have a good plan to see how far is he willing to go. Poor him, he has no idea what is to come!

"Hi, Abida, I am home. I brought you something!"

"Strawberries?" I say, looking at a small bag he is carrying.

"Yes, my love! They're for you!"

We sit at the table in the kitchen and eat them. He notices very soon that I don't have pantyhose on. Not willing to tell me, he stops looking at my feet and avoids to touch them, as he usually does. After we finish eating, I invite him in the bedroom.

"I also have a surprise for you", I say, with a big smile.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Aslan, I want you to be as woman tonight as you can".

His face becomes a bit red, his eyes move fast, then a twitching smile comes on his face.

"I want you to take a look at this. You noticed I have no pantyhose? This is because women have to do something from time to time".

"And what is that?" he asks.

I take my epilator and show him. I turn it on and start moving it on my feet.

"I want you to take off all your clothes and lie on the bed".

He executes it without question. I wonder if he has any idea how painful this is going to be. I start this with one foot. He instantly moves away.

"Come on", I say, "I did this on all my body, alone, every two weeks. How that you are afraid of only this?"

"Sorry, I had no idea how painful this is", he says.

"It is painful to be a woman", I say, with a big smile.

Without asking him anything, I continue with his left foot. Is it painful? I don't care. If he wants to become a woman, he must get used to it. He tries the best not to move and not to scream, but I feel him. I know him very well. I go from ankle up to the knee, then up to the crotch. Then, I turn on the right foot. I pass the knee...

"Please, have mercy", he says, "let me a minute. I cannot take it any longer".

"Yes you can", I say. "You will wait until I reach your butt, then you have a cigarette break".

I insist. I know well that while dealing with a sissy I have to be bossy. It is not my type, but I have to. And after all, what a fuck? He wants to be a woman, he has to know how it feels to be one. Well, when I finish the back of his legs, I stop and we both smoke a cigarette.

"Now you know how it feels to be a woman?" I ask.

"I had no idea it is so painful", he answers.

"Oh, this is nothing", I say. "You have no idea how painful is to have a menstrual bleeding. When this happens, it hurts so much that I cannot see my way. I step in all ponds on the way to work".

He answers nothing. Is he thinking what to do? I don't know. I think he never knew how painful is to be a woman. He only knew his sexual dreams and that's all. Well, after we finish smoking, I ask him to lie back on the bed. I continue to epilate his back and then his arms. I must confess that I feel angry. I don't want to lose him. I don't want to see him becoming a gay or a woman. I love him too much. A tear falls from my eyes, but I manage to hide it.

"Roll over", I say. "Time to make the other half of your body!"

He obeys and I start to epilate the other half of his legs. I do this faster, but then I have to slow down, not to destroy the machine. I avoid the genitals. Even I cannot support the pain of epilating there. then, I turn my attention to his belly, to all the hair that lies there. I continue with the chest and the arms. It takes me some time, but at some point, all is done.

When I look at him, I see tears in his eyes. Wow! I feel pity for this. I wanted to be painful, but never imagined how much will it be for a hairy man to be epilated. I kiss him on his lips, saying:

"Sorry it hurt that much, but there is no other way. This is what I have to go through from time to time".

"I know", he says, "but I never knew it is so painful".

"But we are not over yet", I continue. "There is something you will need to go through if you want to be a woman".

"What is that? Does it hurt the same?" he asks, with a scared voice.

"No", I say, kissing him again. "It is painful, but by far not that. I have to give you earrings".

He looks scared at me, but doesn't seem to stop me. I did this before. I helped friends to pierce a new hole in their ears. Once, I did it with my ears, alone. And also, I have a ring in my belly. I like it. So, why shouldn't I do this with him too?

I take a needle and pierce one ring carefully. He feels the pain and twitches.

"I thought it is more painful", he says.

"No, just like that", I say.

Then, I add the earring, while slowly taking the needle out. I do this again with his other ear, but a bit faster. And finally, I take the needle and pierce a third earring in his belly. This time, he looks scared at me and moans a bit as I do my job.

"Oh mine!" he says. I never knew this is so painful".

"Well", I say, "I have two earrings in each ear. Twice the pain! And this is not all. Many earrings have painful sharp edges. If someone hits your ear, it will hurt you like never before. If you try to lie on bed with them on, on one side, it will also hurt you and make you wake-up".

"It hurts already", he says.

I laugh, lighting a cigarette.

"Now, it is time for a beauty session. You have to wash yourself, so that your skin will be mild and soft. Then, I will teach you how to apply a mask on. You have to stay for 30 minutes like that, then you can wash again and put on make-up. But I want you to put make-up like a woman and not like a man".

He listens to me and does all I say. He seems confused when I show him the white, slimy liquid. He does not hesitate.

Well, when it comes to make-up, things are different. First, I ask him to shave. A woman has no beard or mustache. Then, I learn him to gently apply small amounts of make-up and lipstick, not like most sissies do. He now looks more pretty.

Then, I put him to cut his toenails carefully, not to harm the pantyhose he will wear. He applies nail polish to his toenails and glues fake nails to his fingernails. Well, he looks more girly, but not quite as a girl. Time to add clothes.

I give him the white pantyhose and the large black knee-long skirt, with plastic sandals. Then, he takes-on a bra and a black blouse. The bra creates an illusion of female breasts. I need to work on this, but yet I don't know how.

"Still something is missing", I say. "Your hair is that of a man. We need to do something about this. I think I know exactly what".

I give him a white hijab. He takes it and puts it on. Some part of me says: "Stop! This is a blasphemy in Islam, to put a hijab on a man!" But, so be it. I already gone too far. Now, I look at him. He looks more girly, but at a close look, still there is something that comes to the appearance of a man. What should that be? I don't know yet. I go and take bracelets and add them on his arms. Better, but still not complete. I take the last items I have available: a necklace and sunglasses.

I think about Dmitry, the former spy that hides as Jasmine, a Muslim widow. What is the difference? Why nobody found out that Jasmine is actually a man? Then, I realize what is it. Smoking. In this part of the world, girls and women smoke as a sign of their independence. It is some sort of women emancipation movement. But women smoke in another way then men do. All I need is to look at how someone smokes, to be sure that person is a man or a woman. So, I give him a cigarette and I light one too.

"You have to learn this", I say. "If you want to be a woman, you have to smoke like a woman. You still smoke like a man. Try to do this in a more seductive way. Take the cigarette slowly to your mouth. Put it between your lips, wait half a second, then inhale. Before taking the cigarette away from your mouth, let a small cloud of smoke get out of your mouth, then open your mouth for a second and close it. Take a deep breath in by nose. Then, exhale. This is how a woman does it, how I do. Men take the cigarette fast to their mouth, inhale fast and keep the smoke in, to exhale also fast".

He tries to do as I said and manages to get it almost right, after some tries.

"One more thing", I say. "The way you keep your cigarette between your fingers must be improved. You are not doing it right. Try to do it like me".

He listens me and does all this. We smoke and he tries the best to copy me.

But, it is getting late. Tomorrow, we will both get to work. So, we go to sleep. Before that, I ask him wash and take off all his make-up.

**********

In the morning, he goes to work, but with his toenails painted. To remove the nail polish will take too much time. I am sure nobody will notice this anyway, because he has shoes and socks.

As I go to work, I light a cigarette and think about all this. Why are people so angry about gay and transgender people? Why are they rejected all over the world and most often in this area?

People here have a strong rejection against gay people. I can say they have against all sexual minorities and also against transgender and cross-dressing people. But why? If we take off from the equation the religious part of the problem, what do we have? What motivates people to behave like this?

I keep puffing my cigarette. The smoke enters my body and then forms a diffuse cloud in the air, forming some sort of haze around me. Where I live, 90% of the population smokes. However, in the Civilized World, many people are against smoking. But why? They say smoking causes many diseases. Well, so be it! If I will ever get sick from smoking, it is my problem, not their. Also, I think they are against smoking because this will convince their children to start to smoke too.

Well, isn't it the same with sexual minorities? I ask myself, taking another deep inhale, keeping the smoke inside me and then blowing it straight forward. Why do people here hate sexual minorities? Because they consider, in all religions, this to be a great sin. Well, it is their problem. If a gay person wants to have sex with another gay person, it is their problem, not mine.

Before Aslan started smoking, my smoke was something he did not like. He used to open the windows and to clean the ashtrays. However, his love was too strong and he never told me... but I could see in his eyes that he hated this. Now, he smokes too and he starts to like it.

Isn't it the same? A non-smoker does not like the smell of a smoker. In the same way, a person from the mainstream population will reject one from a sexual minority. But now, with all the experience of these two weeks, I say something different. I really have nothing against gay people or any other sexual minority. What I had, was because of the way I was grown. If I have something, is about obscene things. If I sit near a non-smoker, I open the window or I smoke outside, so I will not disturb that person. If two gay persons want to have sex behind close doors, I really have nothing against. But if they kiss in public, this is another problem. I never liked people kissing in public. It is a sign of disrespect to the others.

I think this is the problem. If they would accept to dress like everyone else and behave like everyone else on the street, nobody will bother them.

As I think about this, I continue to think about cross-dressing and transgender people. Why are people so upset against them? I am starting to realize that they are humans, like everyone else. And I realize that as long as they behave normal, nobody should be against them at all.

Thinking about this, I remember a site about cross-dressing people that I watched yesterday. What I noticed, is the lack of decency. They all use too much make-up and provocative clothes. What if those men would just wear clothes and make-up like any woman would do? I think this is the cause. If we take the erotic outfits out and replace them with what a girl would like to wear, then it all starts to settle down.

How about a man that is a perfect cross-dresser woman? And how about the opposite, a woman that is a perfect cross-dresser man? How will people react? What will they do? First of all, they will not realize the truth. I first think about myself. What if I perfectly become a man and Aslan perfectly becomes a woman? Even if someone will find out, as long as we keep decency, I think not much will happen. People will look surprised, but certainly will not kill us.

The wife found out her husband is a hidden cross-dresser. How far is she going to accept this and what conditions is she going to ask him?

Two weeks passed since I found my husband, Aslan, wearing my clothes and my make-up. For a while I was strongly repulsed of this, but slowly, I accepted. I want to draw a line in his life, how far should he go with this. The reason behind this is that in this part of the world gay people are killed. Cross-dressing might not end-up with death, but if it is associated with gay behavior... it could.

since then, I started to read about cross-dressing, about transgender people and sexual minorities. Two weeks ago, such subjects would be unacceptable for me. But now, I am really interested into such things. I start to understand such people.

Two friends helped me. One is Astana, the librarian, a woman that is a perfect asexual. The purpose of her life is to read and help others. She helped me, giving me links to articles that made me understand very much. The other one is Dmitry, a former KGB agent that hides in our town dressed as a widow Muslim woman. He convinced me that killing is a far greater sin then belonging to a sexual minority. Well, not long time ago I would never had accepted such thing. 12 years ago, a man, accused of being gay, was killed in this town. I accepted this and considered those who did it as servants of the gods. But now, it is like I am a different person.

**********

Today I return from work later then Aslan. Before going home, I stop in the bazaar and buy some items for cleaning the house. Also, I find a blouse that would fit me well and one for him. I will continue to support his cross-dressing, but on the other hand I want to make him feel how painful it is to be a woman. I hope this will limit his desire to a secure point. As I walk home, I continue making my plan. It should work. If it does, I will laugh today with tears.

I enter home. I hear the TV running. He is there, watching TV, dressed like a man and smoking a cigarette. He stands up, comes and hugs me.

"Welcome home, Abida", he says. "Hope you had a fine day at work".

"Yes, I did", I say. "But now, I am hungry".

"There still is enough food in the kitchen", he says.

I look at him, analyzing from hair to toes.

"Are you not dressed like a woman?" I ask.

"I would never dare to do that without your permission", he answers.

"Then", I say, with a big smile, "when you come home, first thing you dress as a woman. After that, you do anything else. Change, I will wait you in the kitchen".

I give him the new blouse and go to the kitchen, waiting. I might be hungry, but I don't eat. If he wants to be a woman, he has to learn what being a woman means. Instead of eating, I smoke a cigarette. Somehow, smoking kills the sensation of hunger, but it is only an illusion. Many teen girls do this to lose weight. As I am getting close to 40, for me, this is no longer important. Well, he comes right when I finish the cigarette.

He has his demi-opaque white pantyhose. Without hair, since I epilated him, his feet look like those of a woman. The painted toenails are hardly visible through the pantyhose texture. He wears plastic sandals. It is better to do so in the house, to avoid ripping them. He has a short white skirt and the white blouse I both him today. The blouse is short and exposes his belly, with the ring I pierced him yesterday. And with the help of a bra, he creates the illusion of small breasts. He applied some make-up and a lipstick on his face. This is the way a woman should do, little, not in excess. The earrings, the necklace, bracelets and sunglasses really give the image of a woman. He looks close to how a woman should look like. The only thing that needs to be done now is his hair. A longer, painted hair, should do the trick. But, if I do that, he will no longer resemble a man when he goes outdoors.

I examine him for 3 minutes, thinking how could he pass as a woman if one day he will be walking on the street. Then, I feel my stomach, asking for food.

"In most families", I say, " the husband comes from work and fixes his ass in the coach, watching TV. He never does anything else. For the woman, life is really harsh. She comes from work and has no time. She has to cook, to serve her husband, to clean the whole house, to wash clothes, while her man sits and does nothing".

He listens carefully. He is not that kind of guy, instead he helped me many times in the house.

"Then," I continue, "what comes? The wife would like to watch TV, to see soaps and whatever she likes. But the husband never lets her do this. He watches that boring football. What do men find so interesting, watching some guys who run after a ball for hours? The wife has no other option but to watch what she doesn't like. And then comes the most horrible part".

He continues to listen. He never did that. Yes, once or twice he wanted to watch an action movie, but usually I rule the TV.

"There are two options for the horrible part. First: he gets drunk. It all starts with a little glass, then another one and so on. In the end, he gets drunk. He starts behaving badly, beats his wife or even... worse. When they go to bed, he intoxicates her with his alcohol-flavored breath. Fucking infidels! The second option is like this: He rests while the wife cooks, washes and cleans the house. After all that, she is tired, while he is fresh. He wants sex, she wants to sleep. Many times, this is like a rape. This is how it is to be a woman".

"But I never treated you like that", he says.

"True", I answer. "But, if you look at not majority but ALL our neighbor families, you will see this. So, I want today to play a game. You want to see how it is to be a woman? Well, today you are going to serve me food, to stay with me, to serve me. And then, you are going to cleanup all the house and wash clothes. I don't ask you to cook, because there are many things you don't know about making food. So, do you want to start this?"

He looks at me a bit puzzled, then says:

"Ok. I will".

"Fine!" I say, with a big smile. "Then, you must acknowledge that I am hungry".

Without hesitating, he prepares me food. We have a soup made of vegetables. I am served. I eat, he stays near me, bringing me a glass of tea and bread. Then, he serves me with fresh cheese and an egg. And then, he brings me cookies with a glass of milk. Very good!

I am amazed how he listens and executes everything I say. So, a sissy is submissive. Is this what he wants? Is this how I should go along with him? It is not something I like. Still, there is a part of him that doesn't like this too. Then, we finish eating and I ask him to bring cigarettes and a lighter. He does this, just like a maid and not like a husband. We smoke. I correct him a few times. He must smoke like a woman if he wants to be like one.

I also notice that all this causes a sexual pleasure to him. He moves his feet, trying to hide an erection. That is strange, maybe even funny. At least for me, this comes with no sexual feeling. I was always amazed how fast men are turned on. It is like turning a switch. For us, women, things are far more different. We are like an engine. First, the engine needs to be started, then heated, then it works completely different.

After this, I say:

"Now I go to the TV and you wash the dishes. Then, you clean the whole house".

This is just what happens. I go to the TV and look at the news. Things are like always. People refuse to pay taxes. Everyone is accused of corruption, but nothing ever happens. Like always, the government has no option but to print money, to pay all its functionaries. Inflation must remain at 40%, otherwise a destabilization will cause again hyperinflation. We know well what that means: chaos and famine. Roads are damaged, railways are damaged, electricity networks are damaged; government has no money for that, ever. Industrial groups are repairing the infrastructure on their own, so that they can transport their goods. Industrial groups? That is the mafia. It is the mafia that keeps the economy alive. Many counterfeited products sold in the Civilized World come from here. Cigarettes, alcohol, all come from here. Also, we produce coal and wood, silk and a few other goods, all sold on the black market. There are drugs too, but they always are a secondary part of the picture. Each mafia leader says that "the coal must flow", that "the grass (tobacco) must flow" or "the drink must flow". they don't want conflicts and keep a level of peace, keeping drug dealers out of the picture. They are the only ones that bring money in here.

Sick of these ever repeating news, I go to watch a movie. In this time, Aslan comes in the room and starts cleaning the dust. Then, he does this in other rooms. I see him again, with a broom, cleaning dust from the carpets.

I light a cigarette and he leaves the broom, coming to smoke with me.

"No, not like this", I say. "You've seen many times how women clean and cook. If they want to smoke, they keep the cigarette in the mouth and don't stop what they are doing".

Aslan does exactly this. He lights the cigarette and keeps it in the mouth, cleaning the carpets with a broom. Smoke gets in his eyes. He doesn't like this, but I smile. He is trying the best to do this like a woman. And he is very close to how a woman would do such a thing. Only on rare occasions he takes the cigarette out of his mouth. Well, may I say her mouth? Because dressed like this, it looks like I no longer have a husband, but a maid... and she tries the best to really be one.

After two hours, he is done and comes to sit near me, to watch TV. We both sit on the coach. We take off our sandals and take our feet up on the coach. There is no way but to touch both our feet. We smoke a cigarette. Then, in the middle of maybe the most interesting part of that movie, electricity turns off. A blackout.

"It looks like there is no more TV for tonight", he says.

I look again at him. At a first look, anyone would say he is a woman. But, at a closer look, one would realize that he is not. He has no real breasts. Just push on the bra and you will notice it. also, his face is a bit different then that of a woman. No matter how much he tries to shave, there is a difference. And even more, the bones of his face are a bit different. I don't know what, but there is something that tells me this. However, the biggest difference is his voice. He clearly has the voice of a man. How can we make that change? There are women with a more bass voice. Long term smoking does that. But, still, the voice of a heavy smoking woman is not like the voice of a man. Is there any way this can be changed? And is there any way that, when he goes to work he can change it back? It is like the problem with his hair. I could paint it, to resemble a woman, but when he is at work, he will have major problems.

"Aslan, tell me the truth", I say. "Have you ever wished to be a woman?"

"Abida..." he says, hesitating to answer.

"I want the truth", I say, short. "No lie, no long talking. Did you ever whished to cross gender barrier and become a woman?"

"Yes, I did", he answers. "And not only once. But I long stopped wishing that".

"You still wish it somehow... or at least a part of you", I say, pinching him by one foot and showing the pantyhose layer.

"True", he says. "But you know that is impossible".

"So, you did wish that", I say, thinking what to do. "Even after I showed you what is to be a woman?"

"I don't know", he says. "Yesterday and today experiences made me confused".

"Well, there are many other things you don't know", I say. "To be a woman, it is very painful. Today, I want to explain it all to you. Everything you seen these two days is nothing compared to all the rest. Do you have any idea how painful is to have menstrual bleeding? You don't know. As a man, I don't think you can understand this at all but theoretical. It is so painful and lasts for long, that... It is... It hurts you from the inside. What you experienced when I epilated you, is almost nothing compared to it. Sometimes, it gets so intense, that you hardly see where you're walking. To make it all even worse, you have to hide it from everyone else. This is because people will make fun of you. And even if it is that painful, you've probably never seen a woman complaining about this pain. Men have no idea and they want their wives to cook, to work, to have sex, no matter what".

"I never knew just how hard it is..." he says, looking at me.

Everything is harder as a woman", I continue. "I've never seen a man with a penis infection, but believe me there are many women with genital infections. We have to wash inside. Many times, it is your semen that causes an infection. For a man, there is no big deal. He empties his balls inside a woman and lets it all go. For a woman, she needs to wash herself carefully each time. Even without having sex, this can happen. And believe me, it is painful. The infection can then move up to the kidneys, which is even worse. You will never get it out from there. You will need medication and there is no hospital around. And even if it were, we don't have the money for that".

I light a cigarette, watching him, to make sure he understands this all.

"You know why I cannot have children?"

"I do", he says.

"Because of an infection", I continue. "Not treated in time, it could had killed me. But I managed to go to the Land Of Dictators and purchase some pills. Sometimes, I regret that I didn't die. The pain I carry, unable to have children, is far worse then the pain of menstrual bleeding. A man can understand this only theoretical, but I tell you, this is far worse".

He looks at me, trying to find his words to caress me. I suffered many times because I cannot have children.

"And this is not all", I continue. "You know Gazelle? She died of cancer, from her genital organs. The same happened with Kitty. I've never seen a man to suffer from penis cancer or balls cancer. Not at all. But us, women, many of us lost our lives because of this".

"I know", he says.

"Still, you do not know enough", I continue. "Being a woman, comes with great risks. What do you know about rapes? Sexual abuses? How many women endured this? Many lost their minds, because it is a horrible experience. You know Tatiana and Adrastea? They both went insane because of this. Other women end-up as whores after a rape. I don't know what is happening, probably it is a result of hormonal damage. Finally, there are many women who ended-up as sfenists".

"I know sfenists", he says.

"They are at the border between normal and insane", I answer. "After years of pain and suffering, they manage to live a normal life. However, sex will never be something pleasant for them, if they will be able to do such thing at all".

"They suffer even more when parents and society force them to get married", he says.

"The same happens with women, when they are sold or married against their wish", I say. "Many times, this ends-up in a never-ending pain".

He looks at me. This time, he is no longer confused, but sad of what he heard. I bet he never knew that women's life is so harsh.

"How is it to be a woman?" I say, in a conclusion. "Pain. Men have no idea how it is. It starts with the most easy and simple things. For example, the way you piss. Men solve this problem very easy. They turn their back and piss in front of a tree or a wall. But women? Do you have any ideas how many times I had to hold on, sometimes desperate to take a piss? It is harder for a woman. It is like for a man to find a place to poop, that's how hard it is".

"Sorry", he says.

I take the last dose of smoke from my cigarette, put the filter in the ashtray, blow a thick cloud of smoke in the room and say:

"Now, after you know all this, do you still want to be a woman?"

"No, not like this", he answers. "I must confess that I like cross-dressing. I am probably addicted to this. But, I am not willing to transform myself into a woman, even if it were possible. When I was a teen, I dreamed that, but not now. I never had any idea how painful it is".

I have a feeling of relief. Cross-dressing in the house is something we can handle, that does not cross a limit beyond which everything changes dramatically. Maybe I played the game as it should be played... or maybe not. Only time will tell. If he wants to go further, he will risk his life anyway. He will never go that far.

"Abida", he says suddenly.

"Yes", I answer.

"Did you ever wanted to become a man?"

Wow! This question strikes me like the pawns in a bowling alley. I never expected him to ask me such a thing, ever. I decided to hide this subject from him. The reason I allowed and even helped him to practice cross-dressing in the house is not only that I love him, but that many times in past I wished I were a boy. Well, not quite a boy, actually a shemale.

"I think you did", he answers, thinking of my silence.

"Please, I am too tired now", I find a fast excuse. "I will answer you tomorrow".

I will have to tell him the secret one day. May it be a shame, may it be a sin, honesty and sincerity are basic things that must exist in a family. So, I will have to tell him all at some point.

TO BE CONTINUED

The wife found out that her husband is a hidden cross-dresser. She accepts this, but why? She is hiding a big secret.

Less then a month passed and my life changed in a way I would never had accepted before. I found my husband, Aslan, wearing my clothes and my make-up. Now, I have nothing against this. When he comes home, he changes clothes and becomes... may I say, a half-woman. Half, because his body still is that of a man, despite the appearance.

I never thought I will ever accept a man to dress like a woman, a hidden cross-dresser.

I was, at some moment, afraid that he will go further away and become gay or think about gender change. In the part of the world where we live, that could mean death. So, I decided to show him how painful is the life of a woman. I epilated him and pierced earrings and a belly ring. I forced him to clean, to wash clothes and to serve me food, like a wife should do to a husband. Then, I told him all the problems of being a woman: menstrual pain, the risk of being raped and the worst of all - the risk to get uterus cancer. He was puzzled, even shocked to find out the truth.

I influenced him to become a cross-dresser in the house. I even bought him clothes. He confessed to me that he never went that far in his life. He only did this when he was completely alone. Before we were together, he only went to make-up and a few clothes, mainly pantyhose.

But then, when I thought things are going too far, I stopped him, convincing him to never cross a certain barrier. Beyond that point, he risks his life. It was also the fact that I was afraid. Beyond a certain point, it could be very hard, if not impossible, for our relationship to go on.

**********

One day, I asked him if he ever wanted to be a woman. He told me that yes, many times, this was his dream. Then, he did something that knocked me off like a pawn on a bowling alley. This thing melted me for days. He said: "Did you ever wanted to cross gender barriers?" With other words, he asked me if I ever wanted to be a man.

This is the hidden reason why I allowed and helped him to look like a woman in the house. The answer is that I wanted many times to be a man. Well, not quite, but something close to.

However, there is a completely different story. His attraction to look like a woman comes from something else. He seems to be drown by sexual thoughts. I noticed that when he wears women clothes, he sometimes has an erection. I don't need to look at that, I can see it clear in his eyes. He seems to be motivated by a sexual desire. My point of view is that such things happen to lonely people, to those who spent most of their lives alone, without many friends and without many sexual relations. Lonely people evolve different then the mainstream population. Talking about sex, they develop many fetishes and are strongly attracted by those fetishes instead of the real thing. I noticed even from the beginning, that it is much harder for him to have sex if I don't have pantyhose on then if I do. Also, if I have lipstick on, this stimulates him.

We, women, are different, but still we have fetishes. I find a good stimulation to see men with muscles (but Aslan is not that kind, anyway). Sweet words also count a lot. I do have an attraction for smokers. since Aslan started smoking, I find it more easy for me to have sex with him. I was always watching amazed how, on TV, bad guys smoke cigars.

**********

Today, I am alone in the house. I arrived much earlier. Aslan will come from work in about four hours. Since I am alone, I decide to open the Pandora Box. Even if I said I will tell him everything, there are parts of my life that I never told him. Maybe, when time will allow, I will.

I open the closet and look at his clothes. They are too large for me, but still can be used. I take off all my woman clothes and stand naked in front of the closet. Then, I start.

At first, I put on his pants. Then, I add a shirt, socks and trousers. I take the small mirror we have on the wall and look at myself. Do I look like a man? Not at all. There is no big deal for a woman to wear trousers. It was in past, but not today. To wear a men shirt? Also, not big deal. It is too large for me, but still wearable. For a woman, to wear men staff, it's not something people will shout at.

I am still a woman in all aspects.

I light a cigarette and try to smoke like a man.

As time passed, I tried to see how I would look like a man. When I was a child, I took a picture of myself and painted a beard and a mustache... but then I destroyed the picture. Later, this became much more easy, once I had a computer. The last time I did this, it was just before we moved together. I had two pictures of myself: one of my head and one in full profile. I downloaded some pictures of men from the internet. With the most simple image program I had, with Paint, I started to copy body parts or clothes from men pictures and apply them on me.

I hardly managed to make me look like a man. but was I really one?

There is an interesting phenomena that happens. When a man cross-dresses as a woman, an age progression will occur. Aslan is 37 as a man, but as a woman, is 40 or even 45. women that try to cross-dress as men, see the opposite phenomena: age regression. I might have 36, but dressed as a man, I have 30 or less.

A man that dresses like a woman will appear stronger, powerful. By opposite, in all pictures I made of myself as a man, I see myself as a weak and silly boy and by far not a wild and powerful stallion, ready to fight and attracting all women. Even now, in his clothes, I look like if I am a sick younger brother.

When I was a little girl, I wished I were a boy, but for a different reason. I wanted to play football, I wanted to go in the forest with the guys, I wanted to take part of their lives. Boys have more freedom then girls.

But when I grew-up, I entered a different phase of my life. Guys started to seduce me... but I was not that stupid. I could see where is all this going. I started to see them getting drunk, wasting money on gambling and trying to seduce girls. Seduce girls? That is nice, but I could see beyond their painted masks of good intentions. All they wanted is to go to bed, fuck them and then abandon them. Nothing else. Really, nothing else. Two women, witnessed something even worse. One guy seduced them, went to bed with the first one, then cheated her for the second one, then abandoned both for someone else. What happened is that both got pregnant. The first one, Cemis, struggled hard to grow a child alone, while the second one, Erlit, tried to make an abortion. After that, she could never get pregnant again. Even today, when she is alone, she cries and suffers for the soul of the child she murdered. People see Cemis as a figher, but Erlit suffered more. And why all this? Because of a guy with too much testosterone.

What happened with Cemis and Erlit made me no longer to wish to be a guy. I decided to live as I am, as a woman, to be independent and build my own way in life. I never had the intention to get married. Some women are addicted to sex and many times this is why they stick to their men, even if they are jerks. But I found out very early in my life that I can self-satisfy myself. It is true, masturbation can give you sometimes a far better feeling then real sex.

Well, this was me before I found Aslan. He made the impossible happen.

As I seen, men that practice cross-dressing are often motivated by a sexual desire. Women, are different. It is the fact that being a man offers better advantages in life. It is the fact that men are stronger and in some cultures have access to things that women don't have.

Well, I no longer wish I were a man. But, still there is something. I cannot have children, because of an infection I had when I were a teen. so, my genitals are useless, but sometimes they cause me a lot of pain. Men don't have menstrual bleeding, they don't suffer from infections and experience no pain that we, women, do.

I wish I were a woman, but with male organs. I wish I were a shemale.

There is something about this subject. Since I found out that Aslan is a hidden cross-dresser, I started to study the subject. At some point, I found on the internet a cartoon picture named sissy examination. There was a sissy in short skirt, with a penis visible beneath the skirt. She was in front of a piece of wood, with a penis on (probably made of plastic). The sissy was sucking that plastic penis. There was another sissy, helping the first one, also with a short skirt and a visible penis erecting from beneath. And near them, there was a teacher, which I presume it was also a sissy. I looked at that image, thinking what it might be.

Looking at that picture, I kept on thinking about how would I feel to be like that. Not examining a plastic penis, having one instead of a vaginas. But, as I visited the article (as much as was possible, to see more you have to pay), I noticed all those sissies were in fact men, transformed, with girl clothes or even with breast implants.

**********

I hear a noise. The door house door is opening. Aslan is home. I have to change! I hurry-up, taking off his clothes.

"Honey, I am home!" he says. "I have something you like!"

In a hurry, I take off all men clothes. I put the pantyhose on, forgetting to put the underpants first. When you are in a hurry, you never make things right. The pantyhose does not fit correctly. I take my blouse on, then try to put on the skirt... but I have to arrange the pantyhose before. Oh mine! And I have to put my earrings on and...

"Abida?" he asks for me.

He is getting closer. I manage to pull the skirt up, then start to close the buttons on my blouse.

"Darling, I found banana flavored Kiss cigarettes!" he says, entering the bedroom door.

I try to answer, but I hardly mumble something.

"Abida?" he says. "Sorry, I didn't know you were changing", he says, moving back.

Just as I think I am safe and he did not notice his clothes on the carpet, he stops, takes one cigarette and puts it in my mouth, then lights it. I love cigarettes with fruit flavor and he knows this well. I take a puff. It tastes great. For a second, I forget what I was just doing before he came in. But then, I realize his clothes are down on the floor, that I don't have my underpants on, that my bra is down between his clothes... Will he notice?

We are used to dress and undress together, so it makes no sense for me to say "Leave me a second, I am changing".

"My trousers are on the floor", he says. "I thought I made order in the closet. I guess only a woman knows how to keep order in the house".

Then he sees my bra down and takes it. He looks at me. I am paralyzed. What can I say? I almost divorced when I found he is a secret cross-dresser. Now, what will happen to me?

"Abida, do you feel ok?" he asks. "You look strange. What is with you?"

He invites me to sit down and pushes the clothes closer to the closet. He also moves the mirror to make room for us to stay.

"Abida?" he says. "It's ok. I am here with you. I will do whatever it takes to make you happy, even if that would mean to go through the shores of hell. You know it well I'll do".

I take a new dose of smoke from the Kiss cigarette. I see my hand is shaking a bit. He also lights one and starts to caress me, touching my head and holding my other hand.

"I am here, Abida", he says. "I am here and I will never let you. Just tell me what happened and how can I help you".

I look deep inside his eyes. The man that I love... but I was about to divorce when I found he is a secret cross-dresser. He is close to unravel the secret of my life and is so friendly... and I was so angry and upset when I found him wearing my clothes and my make-up.

"Aslan, I need to tell you a secret", I say. "I am a bit like you and a bit not like you".

TO BE CONTINUED

The wife found her husband secretly wearing her clothes. She accepted it... because of her secret, which now he is about to find out.

It's been long since I found out my husband, Aslan, wearing my clothes and my make-up and smoking my cigarettes. At first, I was so strongly against it, but then, I accepted. Well, it is not the way I would like. A woman likes to be near a man, not a sissy... but so be it. I accepted and tried to adapt myself to the situation. He does not know that I also have a secret. When I was a little girl, I dreamed that I were a boy. Later, I no longer wanted that... but even today, I want to be something between. I want to be still a woman, but to replace my genitals with a man's organs. I want to b a shemale.

Well, I know that it is impossible, at least in the part of the world where we are. But, even so, dreams still exist.

Today, I opened the closet and tried to wear some of Aslan's clothes in secret. But, no matter what I try, I still am a woman. It is not like him. All he needs is to wear some of my clothes and he is a woman. Then, he entered the house and found me (luckily, I had time to dress back) with all his clothes on the floor in front of the closet. I became scared, afraid, shaking. He did not understand what is going on and started to caress me. Oh, his love for me is beyond what would one expect at other men. I managed to say:

"Aslan, I need to tell you a secret", I say. "I am a bit like you and a bit not like you".

I felt like the whole world is collapsing around me. But instead, he looks at me with even more love in his eyes.

"Let's change into our home clothes", I say. "Then, we will talk a bit".

He listens to me. He takes off his man clothes and becomes a woman. I give him a black knee-long dress, skin-color shiny pantyhose and white plastic sandals. Then, I give him a white blouse and a bra. A necklace, wooden bracelets, earrings and sunglasses and he becomes a woman. Only his voice resembles that of a man.

I take a white knee-long skirt with white, demi-opaque pantyhose and black plastic sandals. A black blouse is what else is needed. I did not give him any underwear, because women's are too narrow for a man. Not good thing when you have a penis.

Then, we sit both on a coach and we both light a cigarette. Just as I take the first inhale, deep into my hungry lungs, we hear noise outside.

"I'll kill you!"

"No, I'll kill you and your family!"

"You will taste my blade and your wife will taste my dick!"

"I will put your guts on my fence, infidel!"

"Just die, piece of garbage!"

The shouts don't end-up in a fight, the two probably move in opposite directions. This is a remainder of how dangerous this place is. What is an act of greetings for one, for someone else is a violation of a moral code. Only if someone will see Aslan dressed like a woman, as he is now... and we are in danger.

"Abida, can you now tell me what happened?" he asks.

I take a big drag of smoke and blow it to the roof. Then, I take my courage and say:

"You know why I accepted you to go cross-dressing?"

He looks surprised and a bit scared.

"Because, we have something in common", I say. "You want to look like a woman, but there is a part of me that wants to be like a man. Well, sort of".

He looks with a big relief in his face.

"Oh, Abida. That is fine, I thought you had trouble at work".

Trouble at work? He is able to accept me as a man cross-dresser so easy? For me, it was so hard to accept his as a woman... even now, I still have something against this.

"Well, not to wear men clothes, but somehow... I don't know".

He holds my hand, supporting me to say more.

"Are you saying that you want men clothes?" he asks.

"No, not like that", I say. "There was a time when I wanted to be a boy, but that was long ago. Later, when I grew-up, I started to hate men, mainly after a good friend of mine was raped by one".

"I know, many men are only for sex, but you know I am different. And I am not the only one different".

I look at him, how easy he accepts this.

"Don't you feel any repulsion that I say this?" I say.

"No. I love you, Abida. The only thing I want is to see you happy".

Then, I take all my courage, take a deep puff from my cigarette and say it, short and clear:

"I wished I were a... shemale. I wish I were a woman in all aspects but with male genitals".

He looks surprised at me, thinking.

"I don't know if that is possible", he whispers. "At least not where we live".

"It is not possible", I answer.

"It was possible for me, to partially become a woman, even in this dangerous place. Just let me a bit think about a possibility. There must be a way".

"How?" I ask.

"I think I know a way".

He goes to our laptop and opens it. He types 'strap-on'. I heard about that kind of device, I know it exists. I know that in the Civilized World you can find such items online or at a sex shop... but here? We don't have enough money to support our daily life.

He directly goes to online shops and shows me the prices. They vary from 15 to 50 $. It should be very little for someone in America, but not here. Where we live, a salary is around 100$. Well, the prices are far smaller. I heard that in America a pack of cigarettes is around 10$, while here, you get five packs with 1$.

"We can afford one at 30$", he says.

I look so surprised, almost scared. How can ha accept this so naturally?

"You allowed me to dress like a woman, why shouldn't I help you feel like a man?"

"But where could you find something like this? And how can you bring that item here?" I ask.

"Don't worry", he says. "We know the man... I mean, woman".

I know. Dmitry, the former KGB spy that dresses like a woman to save his life. He is the only one that can handle such items. But still, there is a risk. What if Dmitry tells someone? He buys and sells information. He will arrange the bargain, but also he will want some cash for this.

"No, please don't do that!" I say. "Who knows who will find out. It's not about the money, it's about our safety".

He answers nothing. Instead, he starts to hold me and kiss me. I do the same.

**********

The next day, Aslan goes to work without saying too much. I guess he is silent for a reason. Oh mine! I wish he will not do this! I wish he will not find Dmitry or at least he will not try to do this. I also go to work, without saying anything. Maybe this incident will go unnoticed. Maybe he will forget about it. And talking about money, to waste a third of your salary for a sex toy... is something I don't find acceptable. And for what? For a fantasy? It's not the real thing, anyway.

**********

After work, we come back home, nearly at the same time. We go to the closet and Aslan says:

"Abida, how if you are the man today and I am the woman?"

"You went after the toy?" I ask.

"Well..." he says.

I can see he tries to lie.

"You went, I guess".

"Yes, I did. But it will arrive in almost a month", he answers.

"Dmitry?"

"Yes, he will handle the order".

"How much?"

"50 $", he answers. "I never knew he has a computer with internet access. He chosen the model himself".

"Aslan, 50 $ is too much. We cannot afford that!"

"Abida, you are worthless. Not even all the money in the world can be enough for your value".

To all gods: Stop him!

"Today, you are the man", he says. Get dressed in my clothes... if they fit you. Go to the TV and watch sports and play a car game on the computer".

I listen to him. His clothes are too wide for me. Well, I keep a pair of pantyhose under the trousers, since I know his fetish. Then, I go to the TV and watch sports and politics, as men should do. He, dressed as a woman, goes through the house and starts cleaning the dust, washing the clothes and cooking. I relax on the coach at the TV, smoking. Smoke gets in the air. It is relaxing that he is doing all the housekeeping alone and I enjoy my free time. But, my mind is on the money. Isn't it too much? Will someone find out? And if someone will discover this, what will happen?

Then I move to the computer. I turn on his favorite game, about spaceships. Today I am a man. So, why shouldn't I play what guys do? It feels nice, relaxing, but every minute, I remember that he ordered that thing. 50 $! Oh my gods! Isn't that too much?

I see Aslan, dressed as a woman, coming to the room. He takes washed clothes to hang them on the rope. Then, he returns with dried clothes. He starts ironing some of them. Just like I use to, he holds a cigarette in his hand while doing all this. I sit on the computer and smoke, relaxed and watching him with one eye.

"What a fuck!" I think. "I am the man and he is the woman! Is this the way things should be? What a fuck!"

I go to YouTube and play the song:

"When I came to Spain, I found myself a party. I told to myself, what a fuck. All day, all night. All day, all night". Then, come some ramble words in a language I don't understand. And then, "What a fuck!"

Aslan comes to the computer and looks at me.

"You know what guys watch when they are alone?" he says.

"I don't know".

"They go to porn".

"Really?" I ask. "No, that is too much".

"Yes, that's what they do. That's what probably all guys do when they are alone".

He changes program. Well, sexy is something I accept, but porn is too much. I instead go to something that makes me horny: guys with muscles, sweat, doing exercises in gym.

"This is what most women like to see", I answer.

Something made me say: "Not a man dressed in a woman!" but I don't say.

"Well, have it your way, guy, but that means that you're gay", he says, laughing.

I, then, have an idea. What if... I look at his pantyhosed feet and at his sandals. I simply type on that porn site sandals. I find something interesting: a woman, sitting on a chair and smoking. She wears no skirt and has sandals. A man is down on the floor and she puts her foot on his mouth, while he licks her sandal. She seems relaxed.

Aslan is watching this. Oh, that girl has no pantyhose on. No surprise he is not attracted. He shows me another one. In that video, the camera is beneath the desk, showing her feet, covered with tan pantyhose.

We watch this. She lights a cigarette just as I finish mine. Then, she takes off her sandals, exposing her pantyhosed soles. As this happens, I notice how Aslan twitches a bit. I look and his face turned a bit to red. I look at his dress and yes... I can see a small bulge.

"This turns you on?" I ask.

"Yes", he answers. "You?"

"You know what turns me on", I answer. "But, it is interesting".

Then, I want to see something else. What about the sex toy that is on the way? So, I type: "strap", then I delete. He sees what I do and completes the name, starting a search.

"What a fuck!" I say.

All I see is women fucking men.

"I guess that's what it is used for", he answers.

"Oh mine!" I say. "That is not for me. You mean, I should penetrate you?"

"I hope not", he says, with a smile. "Try this one!"

Title says: strap-on stroking and smoking. Well, that sounds more like it. And just as the title says, a girl is smoking and stroking a fake dick. That is more acceptable.

Something tells me to stop. Something tells me that I will commit a huge sin by doing this. But, there is another part of me that doesn't let me stop. I watch this video, then another one, saying to myself:

"I accept it".

"What do you say?" asks Aslan.

"I accept the toy. I was fighting with myself", I answer.

This decision was even harder then when I allowed Aslan to dress like a woman. It is a part of me that wanted this to happen even a long time ago. It is a dream that I always said no to it. Well, now I made the step. I see my path going straight to hell. My soul is lost. Now, what should I do?

TO BE CONTINUED

Wife found her husband secretly wearing her clothes and make-up. Then, husband found her wife's secret that nobody knew. If people know, they risk their lives.

Time passed since I found my husband, Aslan, dressed with my clothes, wearing my make-up and smoking my cigarettes. It took me time to get over this. Now, when we are alone, he can dress as a woman in the house without any problem. For a long time, I still was against this. After all, I married a man, not a sissy... well, I married a sissy, without knowing it. But still, my love for him is beyond limits. I accepted him this way, a thing that maybe no wife would ever agree on. Why I accepted such a thing? First of all, because I love him. It is enough for me just to look at other families and I can see the difference. Aslan never harmed me, he never came drunk home, he never cheated on me, he never spent money on gambling. Many other men, when they come from work, they fix their asses on the coach and watch TV, while Aslan looks to see how he can help me. How couldn't I love such a man? I mean... sissy.

When I found him wearing my clothes, a few days I was ready to divorce. But now, he found my guilty secret.

Why I accepted him to cross-dress in the house? It is love, but there is something else. From a very young age, I wished I were a boy. But later, I no longer wanted this, just something between. I wished I were a girl, but with male genitals. A shemale. The longer I think about this, the longer I see my genitals as a problem. Two close friends died of cancer... at their uterus. A cousin died of the same thing. I know many women that were abused, raped... many of them recovered, but some ended-up as sfenists. Some ended-up even insane!

How hard is to be a woman? Men will never understand. Many see women just as sex toys and house maids. On the fuck with them! I think the only men who can understand a woman are those who are not men at all. Cross-dressers, like Aslan. Transgender people and those from sexual minorities also understand this very well. Only if I think about the bleeding period and all the pain it gives... and it is enough. In the Civilized World, women take pills and no longer feel all that pain... but here, medical services are almost absent. If you are sick, you die.

Aslan found out about this. He promised me that he will bring me a strap-on. It is not a penis and it will not remove my vagina, but still, it is something. That thing costs half of his salary. When he found out, he did not want to divorce, nor he had a repulsion. He went to Dmitry and paid an advance, waiting for the product to come. 50 $, that is half of a salary here, at the End Of The World.

**********

Today, I finish work and leave. I had my bleeding period. It is now ending, but still I feel a bit dizzy and pain. I go to the bazaar and buy some milk, eggs and vegetables from the peasants. Then, I buy two packs of cigarettes. The road, filled with holes in the old, unrepaired asphalt, takes me home. A wrecked car passes by, followed by two horse carriages. Not far from here, I see a fight. Three guys grab another guy and start beating him. Well, violence is common here. With no police, what to expect? I just pass by. People have a natural sense of justice and they make justice on their own. The worst thing is to get between them.

"Abida?" shouts a female voice. "Abida, wait!"

I look. It's Natasha, a woman immigrated from the Land Of Dictators. I know her. She is a lesbian, something that is not accepted here. She carefully hides the truth, to save her life. Where she comes from, people wanted to kill her for this. But here, because of the goddess Actit, the mother of Adam and Eve, people are prohibited from killing a woman. Men have a different fate, but she is safe. If people ask why she doesn't marry, she lies, saying "I had cancer and surgery and I cannot have sex". When a guy tries to seduce her, she says the magic words that keep men away: "Leave me alone, infidel!" These words protected me a few times, when guys tried to seduce me.

"Natasha?" I say.

"Abida, I need your help", she says. "Dmitry sent me to you".

Dmitry is a former KGB agent that hides at the mill, dressed as a Muslim widow. Still, he uses his tentacles to gather and sell information. What is he up to now?

"Come with me", I say.

It is not good for other people to find out what we are talking. So, I invite her out from the town. I go home, grab some carpets and we head to the river. People will think that we are washing carpets there. Many people do this. We find a place where nobody is around. We wash the first carpet, then put it to dry on a fallen tree trunk.

Then, we both sit and light a cigarette. Natasha is a short girl, with her hair painted copper-like color. She wears a short white dress with some black on it and plastic sandals. This is how women dress like in summer. I am the only exception, since I wear pantyhose. I do this for Aslan, because of his strong fetish.

"There is a guy asking for protection", says Natasha. "He contacted me through the internet and I went to Dmitry for help. He is paying the whole operation".

I look interested. A source of cash? Just fine. But what is going on? Is that guy running from a mafia faction? That could be too much. I think about it, as Natasha continues to speak. She takes another drag from her cigarette, then speaks, as smoke gets out of her mouth and nostrils, together with her words:

"That guy is coming from the Land Of War and is running to the Civilized World", says Natasha.

"Why?" I ask. "What had he done?"

I know Land Of War. Never ending conflicts, vendettas and guerilla fights. Nobody would like to be there. I heard stories that behind the endless fights, the real reason is heroin. So, not good news.

"Nothing bad", says Natasha, mixing her words with smoke. "He is... like me".

I look surprised.

"You mean lesbian? Gay?"

"Yes, he is gay. And he wants to save his life".

"On the fuck!" I say. "If someone finds out, he will have his ass penetrated by bullets".

"He contacted through the internet other gay people from the Civilized World and they agreed to pay to take him there. I heard about and tried to help".

"That is good from you", I say, thinking that she is also a lesbian and how she escaped to here.

I take a deep inhale from my cigarette, looking around the shores to make sure nobody is listening. If anyone will find out of this, we are all doomed.

"All I need is you to hide him for a few days. Then, as his papers will be done, send him by train, over the border, to the Land Of Dictators. Leave him safe in train, the next escort will continue".

The next escort? This is a complex plan, elaborated by a mafia faction. I know how this works. I will get paid 50% before and 50% after. Not long ago, I would never accept such a thing. But now, with Aslan as a cross-dresser and me waiting to get a strap-on, I start to think about the poor man. He is a human after all, even if, according to the unwritten law and the moral law, he should be killed.

"I accept", I say. "How much?"

I have to hide my feelings for him as a human.

"50 $", says Natasha. "25 before and 25 after. Drop box here, at the root of this tree".

Natasha opens a pocket in her dress and hands me 25 $. She knows how to do this, shaking my hand, as nobody will see her.

"You like my nails?" she says.

I know the trick. If anyone seen this, will think that I was looking at her nails. They are painted light-red.

"I think they fit well you", I answer.

"So do your bracelets", she says, looking at my hands.

"Ok, let's wash another carpet", I say.

After we finish washing, Natasha says:

"Tomorrow, at the second train".

Roads are very damaged, so railways are mostly used by people and cargo. But even they are not in a good shape. Trains are old, rusted and unrepaired. They usually go with 20 km/h, but that still is better then what you see on roads.

**********

After this, I return home and tell Aslan about. He listens me carefully, then says:

"We must be careful. We must save the poor man, but not show him even a bit of our cross-dressing and trans side".

So, for the next days, Aslan will have to behave like a man and I like a woman at all. I know how this works and what to do. We will pretend that the stranger is a cousin of us.

**********

The second train arrives at 11 AM. I tell people a work that I feel very bad, to get some free time. Well, I go to the station. The red building is filled with cracks in the walls and garbage is everywhere along the tracks. This is the heart of our town and our state. Here, everything happens. People load and unload boxes from passenger and cargo trains. Cigarettes, alcohol, counterfeited clothes, everything is exchanged here. Here, the cops are lurking around the train platforms, waiting for bribery. Other goods like coal and wood are shipped not far, loaded and downloaded from cargo trains. Diesel fuel, cement, tires, computers... you name it. You can find everything here. And everything is done by small notes. People wait each other and their goods in known places. Those places are named by graffiti written on the walls. The place where I will wait is on a platform. It is written: "So please be gentle while I crash the sky". The train comes and a man looks around, then goes directly to me, to the graffiti sign.

"Welcome, cousin", I say.

"Hi, cousin", he answers.

Without any other words, we walk together. A cop comes and looks at us. I know how it works. I give him 3 $ and he says nothing. We get out of the railway station and I guide him home, saying nothing on the way.

I look at this man. Who could believe that he is gay? Who could believe that he carries such a big sin, that people will kill him for? He looks like everyone else. He has men sandals and short trousers, a shirt and a small bag. That's all. He is a man in all aspects, no difference. There is only one thing: his eyes. There is something about them, about the way he looks. It is not that he is in a strange place, even if far more safe then the Land Of War. I don't know... just that I never seen a gay person before. His eyes are different, they look in a different way.

Well, I take him to my home and tell him short:

"You have some food in the kitchen. The TV is yours. I need to go to work. My husband, Aslan, will come probably before me. We are sorry that you will have to stay alone for a few hours. If you need anything, tell us".

I leave and hurry back to work. Nobody must know what is happening.

**********

When I return home, I think what to expect. What should I find at our home? I know that Aslan came before me. Well, we shall see...

I open the door. Music is playing slowly. The stranger is serving lunch with Aslan, which is dressed as a man. Nothing different. I find my lunch waiting me on the table. So, I eat. Then, we all light our cigarettes.

"Is there anything you need?" I ask.

"No thanks", he says. "You are so kind!"

"Everything ok?" I say to Aslan.

"Yes, everything fine. He helped me make your lunch".

Wow, that is something! A man that helped my husband make lunch. What man would do such a thing? What man?

We don't talk after this. It is the protocol. One important law is your left hand must not know what is in your right hand. We must not give him information about who we are and he must not give us information about him. Also, we must not know his previous and next escorts and they must not know about us.

**********

In the morning, before going to work, I go to the river, to check under the tree trunk. There is a small sheet of paper, saying:

"His papers will be here when done. Give him unopened".

I place another sheet of paper, with the message:

"Everything ok".

**********

Four days passed like this. The stranger stays all the time in our house, watching TV. We don't speak about anything. Then, in a morning, before going to work, I go to the river and find a sheet of paper and an envelope. On the paper, it is written:

"His papers are ready. Take him at last train to Land Of Dictators. Your payment will be here if he arrives safe".

I keep the envelope hidden at work. Then, when I arrive home, I give it to him. He opens it. New identity papers for the Land Of Dictators, a train ticket to there and an airplane ticket from there to the Civilized World.

"Thank you!" he says.

"We go at the evening, with the last train", I say. "Remember, you never seen me or my husband. We don't even exist".

"I was on a vacation", he says.

We also take Aslan. It is late night. Dogs are barking on the streets at this hour. But still, even now, there are people around. We move without saying a word. We take him to the train station. He steps in the train just a minute before it departs. Nobody will attack you in a train. His journey to freedom has started. But first, he has to pass through the Land Of Dictators, where another escort is waiting. It will be more complicated there, as he will need a visa to pass border into civilization, not an internal passport like here.

We watch the train departing. Nothing will stop him now, until he reaches main station in the Land Of Dictators. Again, cops are waiting on the train platforms, for a bribery. Surprisingly, this time they don't come to us. So, we pass without an incident.

**********

After 3 days, I find at the river the remaining 25 $, without any note. Mission complete, payment achieved. I don't know if he passed the border to the civilized World. I will never know. And he will never meet us again, ever.

All this time, I wanted to ask him a few questions. How is it to be a gay? What made him become one? Was he born this way? It is so shocking to see one... that looks like everyone else, except for his eyes.

I've seen gay parades on TV or on the internet. All this time, I thought that they are some sort of perverts. Well, at those parades, they largely practice cross-dressing. But him? He was dressed like any man would dress in summer.

What a fuck?

I've seen Natasha many times. I talked to her, trying to understand why she is a lesbian. I figured out that it all started in early childhood, but for a while she was not decided of what her orientation is. Later, she got repulsed to see men getting drunk and violent. A main factor in her case, was a neighbor, a woman that was also a lesbian.

Why I never was angry on Natasha? Because she is a woman. Because of Actit, the mother goddess. But now, I think it is time to understand something. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe all the people are wrong.

**********

Then, as I get back home, I see Aslan, dressed as a woman. I realize something. Being a cross-dresser does not imply that you are gay. I am thinking even further. During this time, I read some memories of transgender people. Men who became women and rare cases of women who became men. In many cases, their bodies transformed, but their sexual orientation remained. Former men, as women, became lesbians, while former women, as men, became gay.

When I allowed Aslan to cross-dress, I forced him to make a step in a direction. Now, as I wait my strap-on to come, I feel that I am making a similar step in a similar direction. An unseen force is pushing us forward, on a road that nobody in this village walked on. What is that direction leading us to? I don't know. It is like walking in night with a lantern. We can see the road in front of us, but there is no way to see where it will end.

TO BE CONTINUED

A secret never remains unraveled.

It's been two months since I found my husband, Aslan, wearing my clothes, my make-up and smoking my cigarettes. I accepted him as he is and I got used with it. He also knows my guilty secret, that I long wanted to change my genitals with those of a man, but still to remain a woman. To be a shemale. I know well that, the things we do, are strongly prohibited in here. We risk our lives. On the other hand, temptation is too strong. Aslan decided to help me and paid the advance for a strap-on. A fake penis that will give me some satisfaction, of being somehow a shemale. It is not the real thing and it is very expensive... but I like the idea. I can hardly wait to have it.

**********

today, I came from work before Aslan. I used the extra time to make lunch. And just as I relax myself on the coach, I hear the door opening. He just arrived home.

"Abida, my love", he says, "I got it. The package just arrived".

"Oh mine!" I say. "That is great news!"

"Here it is!" he says, holding a box covered with paper.

I jump off the coach and grab it, then open the pack. As I remove the outer layer of paper, carefully glued all over the product, I see a box of cardboard inside. I open that one too, with a knife. Inside, I find what I so long waited. It is some sort of a belt, to be attached around my crotch. The package also contains two penises, one large and one small. They are made of an elastic material, probably rubber. The large one is a bit longer then the real thing and well textured, made just to fit on the belt. The small one is more elastic, has balls and looks like the real thing when it becomes small.

I hold Aslan in my arms and kiss him. Then, I take up my skirt and put the belt, then I add the big one. As I let my skirt down, I notice a bulge that becomes visible.

"How do I look?" I ask.

"Like a shemale", he answers.

"I am a shemale! I am a shemale! I am a shemale!" I say, dancing of happiness and jumping in the room. Then I notice that, when I jump, sometimes it becomes visible.

"I am happy that you are happy", says Aslan, smiling and kissing me.

I just keep on looking at myself, at the bulge this thing makes under my skirt.

"You like it?" I ask.

"Yes, it is amazing", he says.

"Why don't you also become a shemale?" I ask.

He doesn't hesitate and changes. He takes off his man clothes, then dresses like a woman. He has now white plastic sandals, skin-colored shiny pantyhose and a white-red dress. I have white plastic sandals, light-brown pantyhose, a pink dress with flowers design and a grey shirt. We both have bracelets, earrings and a necklace. We look like two women.

I take off the big penis and put the small one. The bulge vanishes, but I can still feel it, hanging in front of my feet. So nice! I can walk with this on, even on the street. I touch myself, to see if it is visible somehow. No, it is not at all. And if I move the belt and the small penis under pantyhose, it will clearly not be visible by anyone.

As Aslan finishes dressing and applying make-up, I put back the big one. We both stand up, looking one at each other. He hugs me and kisses me. I feel my fake penis touching his body. So incredible! Until now, I could fell his, touching me, when it grew in size, when we were going to make love. He always tried to hide it. But now, I have one too!

"I see nothing under your skirt!" I say, laughing.

"It is under the pantyhose", he answers.

"Still, mine is bigger", I say, kissing him.

He moves his hand under my skirt, touching it. Too bad it is rubber and not real. I wish I could feel what he is feeling. But still, it is amazing. A man touching my penis, just as a woman would do to a man!

I also move my hand and gently push his pantyhose off, just to release his organ. It is already hard. And now I look at his dress. The bulge is visible too.

"We are two shemale people having fun", he says.

He starts playing with my fake penis, moving his fingers around. He is stroking me. I look as the dress moves up and down, above his hand. So exciting! I never imagined this will one day be possible. So, I start stroking him too. My hand is moving under his dress and his hand is moving under my skirt.

We do this one or two minutes, then I say:

"How do you guys do it when you are alone?"

"Simple", he says.

I take it in my own hand. It is a different texture, unlike the real thing. I start stroking myself.

"Not like this", he says. "Like this".

He shows me how. Faster and without touching the top. This thing also touches my clit and gives me some satisfaction.

"How do I look?" I ask.

"A bit scared", he says.

I light a cigarette, while I keep on stroking. Faster, even if my hand is starting to feel tired. He takes the mirror and lets me see myself. I see in the mirror what is under the skirt, my pantyhosed feet and the fake penis, my hand moving up and down. Then, as he moves the mirror up, I see my waist, my breasts and my face. All my body is participating in this up-down movement. It is some sort of endless twitching. My bracelets make noise. And as I smoke, I see the smoke getting out of my mouth in small bursts. It is more exhausting then I thought, but the pleasure is behind everything I imagined.

He puts the mirror back to its place and sits near me. With one hand, he tries to help me. I take his hand and put it on his organ. He understands and strokes himself. It takes a few more minutes, then I finish the cigarette. I try to stroke him and me in the same time. He does the same, with his hands: one on me and one on himself.

Then, he says:

"Stop, I am almost ready".

He takes an empty pack of cigarettes and fills it with his fluid. Then, he comes to me, starting to massage my breasts. He penetrates me with a finger. That is enough. It takes only a few seconds and I have an orgasm that almost makes me scream. A few more minutes and we both lie on bed, exhausted.

"Are you ok?" he asks.

"Yes", I answer. "It was amazing".

The rest of the evening, I keep the strap-on in position. I love to see the bulge under my skirt. I continue to touch it and play with it. In bed, I change with the small penis, still keeping it on.

**********

In the morning, we wake-up. I feel like it was all a dream. "This cannot be real", I say to myself. But the evidence is here. I feel the small penis in front of my feet. As we go to work, I think about wearing it all day. Should I? But what if someone finds out? What should I do in that case? It will be a disaster. If anyone will find out, we both are doomed. So, I decide to let it in the house.

We both go to work, like in every day. But, as I return home, I find Aslan arrived before me. He looks scared. Something happened. Did someone see through the window what was happening? We are very careful not to. After we kiss, he says:

"Syracuse wants to see us. We are invited on the road to hill top, at the former aqueduct, at 18.47".

"What?" I say, surprised. "Why?"

"I don't know. I just got this note", he says, showing me a sheet of paper.

"Who gave it to you?"

"A child, I don't know him".

"What now?" I ask, scared, even more scared then he is.

This is how information circles around, on notes of paper like this one. Well, I have nothing against to be in a small business involving the mafia, but not with Syracuse. What a fuck? What is going on? Why should a prince call us? Who are us? Nobody.

"Have you done anything?" I ask, scared.

"No, Abida. I never did anything. You know me well".

"Then, what a fuck is going on?"

"I have no idea".

"I am scared to death".

"Come on", he says. "What reason would he have to kill us? Did we do anything?"

"It could be about that gay we helped emigrate".

"That man is for sure at a safe distance. We can tell the whole truth".

"On the fuck with him! Now, we are going to die".

"A prince never kills without a reason", he says. "They need support from the people. Killing innocents is something they never did".

That's right. Mafia leaders try to be friendly with the people. I've seen them giving milk and cookies to children.

"I think we should go", says Aslan. "We have 7 km to walk and need to be in time".

**********

The road was once asphalted. Now, it is mostly a dirt road, with holes and tranches deep enough to make major problems to any vehicle. It climbs over a hill. On the other side, there was once a factory. Now, there is nothing left. Thieves took even the last piece of scrap. They broke concrete to take what metal they could find, to sell it.

We get to the top of the hill. Here, the road passes over an old aqueduct. It used to bring water from upstream, to a power plant and then downstream for irrigations. Now, it lies abandoned, filled with vegetation. Even The road bridge is cracked, with holes enough to fit your foot in. Not good for a car. We are in forest. The town is no longer visible behind us. Nothing can be heard, just the sound of birds and some wind.

It is 18.24 and we wait. This waiting is really painful. I smoke one cigarette after another, thinking about what can happen. Syracuse himself is coming here! But why? Why for us? What have we done? I don't get the point.

My nerves are stretched to the limit. Aslan is more patient.

TO BE CONTINUED

No secret remains unraveled forever... even if your life is at risk.

I feel like waiting the end of my life. Maybe it's the gods who are punishing me for a great sin. And I did a terrible sin. First, I found my husband, Aslan, secretly wearing my clothes, my make-up and smoking my cigarettes. I accepted him and he dresses like a woman whenever we are at home. Then, I wanted to become half-man, more exactly a shemale. Aslan both me a strap-on and I worn it in the house. We both crossed gender barriers. Now, we wait to be punished for our sin.

A child came to our home with a message from Syracuse, a mafia leader, requesting us to come to a secluded place in the forest. This scared me to death. What does he want? We are two nobodies. What reason would he have to do such a thing? And what will happen to us?

No doubt, this is the punishment for the sin we committed. I should change my life and implore any god for mercy. Well, I don't feel like this. The punishment will come and I am here, waiting to receive it. We made together this sin and we will pay together, even if it's death.

But who is Syracuse?

It all started when the economy collapsed. Our small state became independent, ruled by a bunch of highly corrupted politicians. In the first 3 years, they tried everything to get money. They increased taxes and started to control everything. State employees were looking everywhere for fees. Guilty or innocent, it didn't matter. Everyone had to pay fees and bribery was on the daily list. They stopped cars and trains and held everyone guilty. The state tried to borrow money, tried to sell industry, tried anything to gain more money, but everything was spent on ever increasing salaries for state employees. Roads became too unrepaired to be used, railways started to collapse, electricity was no longer available all day long... Because of ever increasing taxes and ever increasing controls, everything started to fall apart. Farmers had to pay a fee higher then the value of their lands and animals. In the end, it became impossible to gain money from any source. State employees started to make strikes, to protest. Schools were closed, institutions were closed and politicians were fighting one against the other in any possible way, for what little remains to destroy.

When no other solution was possible, the state started printing money. Hyperinflation. All state employees had salaries as high as they wanted, but in two weeks, they could hardly buy a pack of cigarettes with all that money. And this was the moment when total chaos was about to start. Why? Mutiny. State employees turned one against the other. It almost turned into an armed conflict. however, none of them had support from the population. No. We just wanted to be left alone. We wanted peace.

That was the point when mafia came in. They existed before, but were almost ruined by state abuses and hyperinflation. Well, the word 'mafia' is a bit forced. In fact, it is different. They are businessmen, working at the border between legal and illegal, more or less. Some are born here, some came here, when our state was formed, during the repatriation programs. They offered people a place to work, they helped those in need, so they gain support from the people, while everyone was hating the state employees. In the midst of chaos, hyperinflation came to an abrupt halt, when the state ran out of ink to print more money. With that, state power collapsed. But the mafia wanted our state to exist, they wanted some sort of peace. So, they came to the president, offered him life-long support, in exchange for some reforms. This includes no taxes for them, no inspections, no control and fixing the inflation at 50%. People were very happy with this.

So, who are these 'mafia' leaders? Everyone knows them, but nobody speaks about them in public. There are 12 people, with the 12th being considered the vice-president. Ragusa is the wood lord, he cuts the forests and sells wood outside. Stromboli is the tobacco lord, he produces counterfeited cigarettes and sells them to other guys who ship them to the Civilized World. Gavi is another one, who produces counterfeited alcohol and sells it to the lands Beyond The Ice. Palermo works with coal, which is mined in the mountains. Catania rebuilt the electricity system and is selling electricity to the people. Antioco provides internet connections. And there are others. One can see that this is not about drugs, sex or weapons. Still, these things exist and pass through our land, but the 12 don't want this to happen. They do their best to keep such things out of our lands.

So, who is Syracuse?

He operates the basics of our transportation, the railway system. He managed to open railways that collapsed, even if trains travel very slow, sometimes below 20 km/h. People travel almost for free, but all the other lords have to pay him something for their goods to pass. There are many places without a road access, but with a railway. We have no functional airport and roads are good only for horse carriages and off-road vehicles.

What would, such an important person, want to do with us?

Time passes. Suddenly, we hear the sound of an SUV. Only a lord can have the money for such a vehicle. I take Aslan's hand and squeeze it.

"Don't be afraid", he says. "We did nothing, he has no reason to kill us".

A few moments later, we can see the car approaching. It stops right in front of us. Yes, it's Syracuse in person. It is the first time when I see him: a man a bit fat, tall, in a black costume, with new, clean shoes and with a smell of expensive perfume. We watch him as he steps out of the car. Looking closer, I see he wears a pistol.

As it is polite, we kneel and kiss his hands.

"Rise!" he says. "Both of you!"

We stand-up and wait, to see what will happen.

"I think there is something you can do for me", he says.

I see no expression on his face. He is cold like steel. We say nothing, just wait.

"You", he says to Aslan. "You are something between a man and a woman!"

Oh mine! He found out somehow and now he is going to make us do his dirty work... because, if anyone finds out that Aslan is a secret cross-dresser, he might be killed.

"And you", he says looking at me, "you are dreaming to be half man".

I feel my face turning pale white. Is this a death sentence? It is clear that he knows and we are at his mercy.

"Here is the deal", he says. "I need an informatory".

"Sir", says Aslan. "I don't think we are up to this job".

"Quiet", I whisper to Aslan, thinking that we could get killed for the secret he knows.

"This is a small place", says Syracuse. "I cannot send people that are well-known or those who cannot be trusted. Nobody would expect a cross-dresser. And I know that I can trust you".

He insists on the last words, taking his pistol and playing with it.

"We accept", says Aslan. "How can we serve you?"

Syracuse looks at him, thinking for a while. Then, he looks at me and says:

"You will need to train him to look and behave like a woman in all aspects. Then, I will use him as an informatory. You will also work for me. And I guarantee you both higher salaries and protection".

He insists on 'protection', putting his pistol back in his pocket.

"The main problem is with your voice" he says, pointing at Aslan. "You have to change your voice. I will pay as much as needed".

I have no idea how voice can be changed. We will have to look at the internet. There must be a way. And if it is, we have to do it.

"We'll do all what we can", I answer.

He takes money and throws it on the ground in face of us. It's the equivalent of 100 $ in our currency.

"Make him a woman with this money", he says to me. "We will meet in tomorrow at the same hour, the same spot".

Saying this, he steps back in the SUV and returns to the town. We look shocked.

"Well, it looks like we have no other option", I say. "I will have to make you a woman if we want to live".

"Fuck!" mumbles Aslan. "This is too far. Somehow, someone seen us".

As far as I know, we were very careful to hide it all. How could Syracuse find out such a thing? There is only one possibility. Dmitry! The former KGB agent that hides at the mill, dressed in a Muslim widow. He is the only one who knows all this. When I found Aslan was a secret cross-dresser, I asked for his help. Then, he was the one who found the strap-on for me. I speculate he is the one who sold Syracuse the information about our cross-dressing.

"Well, we are still alive", I say.

Aslan takes the money and stops, thinking. Then, he says:

"He gave us a salary. This is a good advance for a job".

**********

The next day, we go to work, like usual. Well, we have a big surprise. I find out that I was fired... and when I return home, Aslan also comes, saying that he was fired too. No explanation, we were just fired. Well, it is clear that we have now no choices. Syracuse changed our lives by force. Well, I worked for the internet provider and Aslan worked for the electricity provider. Both companies are owned by some of the 12 lords. What to expect? Syracuse told them he needs us... or who knows what.

Well, it is now time to continue the transformation for Aslan. After all, he is the key person in this. Only that, now we are no longer doing this for pleasure. We are doing this because we have to, because it is our lives that are in risk.

Aslan goes home, where he will try to find a solution on the internet for his voice. I go to the bazaar, for other reasons. Syracuse wants to see us today evening. Most of sure he wants to be convinced that Aslan can be a trans woman. I buy a few items for this purpose.

When I come back home, I find Aslan working on this. He found a guide on the internet: how to feminize your voice in 30 days. Basically, you can slowly alter your voice, train yourself to speak like a woman. Until then, I thought surgery or some medicine will be needed. I feel so relaxed that he will not go to any surgery! After all, where can you find medical services in here? Nowhere.

For me, this is the most important part. Everything else can be tricked. I mean, with the use of clothes, make-up and proper gestures, he can pass as a woman. Not many will find out. The voice remains his main problem.

Then, I start working with things I never dared before. I decide to paint his hair. He has a short hair, like most men would like to wear. It is a dark-brown color. How about changing it into a dark red? For the first time in his life, he will have his hair painted.

"This is the point of no return", he says, as I start applying the paint.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"From this moment on, I no longer can appear as a man".

He speaks with a voice that is already a bit changed. He is working already on the transformation.

"Anyone who will see me like this, knowing I am a man, will kill me".

I think about the risks. Oh no! Now, we will have to hide our identities. One mistake and we are doomed. We are passing through a door and on the door there is a mark saying: 'one entry fuck no exit'. This is one way entry to hell and there is fucking no exit.

How I wish I didn't allow him to go that far! How I wish I didn't allow him to buy that strap-on! Now, look at him, look at what he is becoming! Look at what is happening to our lives!

I finish painting his hair, then I make a bit lighter color and paint myself. If he does something, I should be suffering together with him. He helps me do this. But, it almost makes me cry to see him with a hair like this. If anyone who knows him will find out...

Then, I carefully paint his nails in red. That should work well, both for his fingers and his toes. I do the same for me, with a lighter color. We wait for our hairs and nails to dry, while we smoke a cigarette. We say nothing. I can see that he is in a great tension, probably as big as me.

We hardly eat something. It is too much tension on us. We try to turn on the TV or to go to the computer, but it's no good. Aslan goes to the computer and tries again to feminize his voice. The exercises are not easy and need patience.

Later, we get dressed. I take on a white dress and white sandals, while he takes on a pink dress with black sandals and a bra. Thinking if we should wear pantyhose, I don't know. Not many women wear them in summer, so we should not. On the other hand, they are a strong fetish for Aslan, they may give him more confidence. So, I decide it's better to take some very transparent ones. Then, I make the final adjustments on both of us: make-up, lipstick, earrings, bracelets and sunglasses. We now clearly look like two women.

"Now comes the big part", says Aslan. "How do we get from home to the forest? People will be looking at us. They might recognize me!"

Oh no! He is right. Is it possible for him to travel all that distance unnoticed? Should I undress him and dress him like a man until we reach the forest side? But what about his hair? Oh no, I see no way! A hat? But it's summer, everyone will look suspicious. How to wear a winter hat in summer?

I see no solution. If I hide his hair, what about the nails? How would they react to see a man with painted nails?

"How do we get to the forest?" I ask, almost hitting the walls with my fists.

"We walk", answers Aslan.

"How?" I ask, with tears in my eyes.

"Abida, honestly, I see no way out. Syracuse guaranteed our safety. We go like this to the meeting point".

"You mean..."

He vanishes in the bedroom and returns with something.

"You also take this", he says.

The strap-on. What is in his mind?

"Maybe he wants also to transform you into a man", he says. "Put on the small one and keep in your purse the big one".

"What a fuck?"

"Abida, do as I say", he says. "I never forced you anything since we are married, but now, I do. That man is out there and wants us to obey his orders".

I listen. What choice do we have, after all? I rise-up my dress and fix the belt. Then, I add the little rubber penis in its place. I watch myself carefully, to see if it is visible. No, it is not. Oh mine! Now, I feel like a snowball falling in hell or like a rabbit encircled by a thousand wolves. I put the big rubber penis in my purse. Then, I realize something. Aslan has no purse! I run and search for one. Oh, here is one that might fit him. He takes it and puts it on his shoulder.

"Not like that", I say. "Gently, like a lady".

Time is ticking. We need to go, to arrive in time. He looks at me, then says:

"We need to go".

"I know, but..."

"No but. We open the door and go straight to the destination. Don't look around, don't talk to anyone. We just go".

"Ok... I am not ready".

"Abida, we have to. Maybe Syracuse comes before us".

I don't want this! No! What if people will kill us?

"Abida, when I count to 3, we go. Ready?"

"No", I answer, almost crying.

"One", he says, squeezing the door handle in his hand.

I can see his red nails twisted around the handle. I look down, at his toes. The sheer pantyhose are merely invisible if you look from distance.

"Two", he says, with a voice of a scared person.

I twist my hands, nervous, until I hit my belly. A bit below, I feel the strap-on. Oh mine! What will happen next? Will it be visible? Will people realize what is going on with us?

"Three", he says, opening the door.

Outside, there is almost nobody. Two small children are playing on the street, not paying any attention to us. Aslan exits first, then me. He closes the door.

"Let's go!" he says.

We start walking. I feel such a tension, as I never felt. We see the first person passing by, it's a man, a neighbor.

"Hi, Abida!" he says.

"Hi", I say, not looking into his eyes.

He did not recognize Aslan! That's good. Maybe we can find a way. We keep on going. Two women come, carrying vegetables in a basket. I don't know them. They pass, not looking at us. That's good. Next, comes a man on a motorbike.

"How are you, ladies?" he asks.

I just ignore him. We are not for sale. He passes away.

Then, I advice Aslan to go on another road, not through the center. There, someone might know us. We travel without incidents. At some point, a kid asks us for a cigarette. We just ignore and continue walking. We get out of the town and enter the forest. From here, not many people will be around.

In the end, we arrive at the former aqueduct. We stop here, on the bridge, then light a cigarette. This was a challenge!

"We made it!" says Aslan.

"We will have to make this trip back", I say.

"Later. Now, let's wait for the boss".

There is so much tension inside me. I feel like going to explode. Why all this? Why is this happening to us? Aslan is starting to be more nervous then I am. I notice how he puffs the cigarette, more angry then I do. Then, he throws the filter on the road. I can see a trace of lipstick on the filter. Does he look close enough to a woman? Will it all be ok as things are now? I closely analyze his make-up, the powder I applied on his face, the make-up around his eyes, his lashes, everything. His hair is still too short. Women like to keep a longer hair, but it was not time enough. A bra under his dress gives a fake impression that he has breasts, but... if someone pushes on it, will find out the truth. Well, there are also women with small breasts. However, his body is large, robust, like that of a man. He could pass as a fat or robust woman. I've never seen a fat woman without large breasts. So, we need to do something about.

I look at his dress. It looks feminine enough, no doubt. His hands, now with painted nails and with bracelets, look like those of a woman. close enough! His feet, covered with sheer pantyhose, clearly look like those of a woman. He wears flat, plastic sandals, as all women wear in summer. But still, there is a difference. It is clear that he still does not know how to walk like a woman. First of all, I notice a run-off in his pantyhose. He must be careful, they are very fragile, especially summer ones. Walking with open-toe sandals, it is even more difficult, mainly on these roads.

He tries to sit down, on the bridge. I immediately notice something that no woman should do. He sits, with his knees at some distance.

"No, not like this", I say. "If I sit in front of you, I can see all under your skirt. You have to keep your knees close one to the other or to sit with one foot over the other".

"Like this?" he says, trying to adjust position.

"Like that... no! You will ruin your pantyhose if you do that! Only the dress can touch any surface, not your feet. Let me see..."

Yes, he made another hole in his pantyhose.

"Sorry", he says.

"I think it should be better not to use pantyhose at first, you will ruin many pairs until you learn".

"Ok", he answers.

"And try to feminize your voice!"

"Ah, sorry", he says, with a changed voice.

"That's better", I answer.

He looks at his clothes, lighting another cigarette.

"I need to create fake breasts somehow".

"Yes, we did not think about that", I say.

I did not think about this aspect. I know that there are fake breasts that can be glued on skin. With some make-up, they will look close to real. But where to find them? Again, we will have to go to Dmitry. How complicated things are becoming!

Finally, we hear the sound of a car. It is clear, Syracuse is coming. It is now or never. Will this work? Will he be pleased? Or will he kill us? The car approaches and we see it. It's the same SUV. Syracuse comes out of the car and looks at us. He carefully examines Aslan, but also looks at me.

"What is your name?" he points at Aslan.

"Aslan", he answers, short.

"I told you to prepare yourself", he answers, with the same unchanged, steel face. "How about Kira?"

We don't answer anything. He found us on a bad move from the beginning.

"Who are you, Kira?" he asks. "Tell me your life story!"

Again, we don't answer anything.

"You need to build your own personality as a woman", he says, still pointing at Aslan. "People will ask you who you are and where are you from. They will try to seek relatives of you. Would you think about something?"

"Yes", says Aslan. "Yes, I will, sir!" he repeats, with a more feminine voice.

"Until you will change your voice, I cannot send you on the trains", says Syracuse, short. "Or, maybe, you can pretend you are a mute".

Then, he points at me, looking to my crotch.

"You have your strap-on?"

"Yes", I say.

"Is it that small?"

"Yes, but I also have a larger version".

"When you will come to work, I want you to wear this one under your dress", he says, short.

I immediately notice what this is about. At any moment, if I don't do what he wants, he will tell the people what I wear. He completely has us tied. Willing or not, we have to do what he says.

"We will follow your orders", I answer.

He comes to Aslan and carefully inspects him. His hair, his make-up, everything. He pushes in his breasts and finds out that there is just a bra beneath them. He continues to look at his dress, at his feet and his sandals.

"Impressive work, but you have more to do", says Syracuse. "First of all, you need a longer hair, but still it can pass as feminine. Secondly, you need to change your voice. Do you smoke?"

"Yes", answers Aslan.

"Great. Then, people can say your voice changed a bit because you are a chain smoker. But very important, you need breasts. And build an imaginary life".

Then, he looks at me, carefully, examining my body. He then, suddenly pushes on my crotch, finding out where the strap-on is.

"Show me!" he says.

Is he trying to have sex with me?

"Show me!" he insists.

I accept and rise my dress, until he can see. I notice that Aslan becomes angry.

"Don't worry, I am not into what you think!" says Syracuse to Aslan. "I am figuring out if someone will find out or not about this".

I open the purse and show him the big one.

"No, don't wear that one in public. It is too large and people will find out".

He moves one meter away from me, looking at both of us.

"And who you two are?" he asks. "You need to come with a theory that would be plausible. Are you friends from school? Coworkers? Are you cousins? You cannot say that you are married. You have to invent something. Are you divorced? Did your husbands died? I am not telling you a scenario, only you must come with one. Don't come with the theory that you are lesbians and you are in love. You know what will happen".

He then pushes Aslan's breasts with a finger and says:

"Fake breasts will be ordered and will come soon. Tomorrow, your training will begin. I will handle you to the only person I trust: my wife. Come at the railway station, open the green door, then wait there. Be sure you arrive at 8 AM. Take these two cards, you cannot enter without them".

He gives us two cards, with the sign of the railway company. Then, he gets in his car and departs.

We remain for a few minutes here, without moving.

"I am Kira, your cousin from Land Of Towers", says Aslan.

"On the fuck with this all!" I answer. "Do you know the language spoken there?"

"That sucks!" says Aslan. "But I do know the language spoken in the Land Over The Mountains. My grandma was from there".

"And how did you come here?"

"You found me a job. You know that land is poor".

"Poorer then ours?"

"No, but... It's the best lie I can play with".

"So be it, Aslan. You are my cousin".

"Kira, not Aslan", he corrects me. "If we are cousins, this can explain why we live in the same house".

"Kira..." I repeat with half voice, only for myself.

"Yes, Kira will be my name".

"And we will say that Aslan went to the Civilized World to work".

"And I came here because you found me a job, because you are alone".

"Just one thing... Kira", I add. "You are married, but something happened to your husband".

"He went to work too, in the civilized World", says Aslan. "This sounds plausible. And I came because I was alone".

"That is plausible... Kira", I say. "Now, let's get back home".

We return to the town. This time, we take the direct road, close to the center. People will start to get used to Kira.

"Until you feminize your voice enough", I say, "don't speak too much. Pretend you don't know the language well".

We return home. On the way, a neighbor sees me and says:

"Hi, Abida! How are you?"

"I am fine".

"Where is Aslan?"

"He went to the Civilized World, to work. He has a contract".

"And who is she?"

"She is Kira, my cousin".

"Hi, Kira!"

Aslan says no word, just salutes with his hand.

"She doesn't know the language well", I say.

"Where is she from?"

"Land Over The Mountains".

This was all. We travel to home without any incident. Who knows what tomorrow will bring us? Tensions are immense for both of us. But, nevertheless, we did it. Aslan traveled through the town dressed like a woman... and nobody found out. I mean Kira, he will no longer be Aslan... and he will be a she. And I walked through the town with my strap-on and nobody had any idea what was under my dress.

TO BE CONTINUED

How do you feel when your husband is no longer a man?

I had a great marriage, with a husband better then I even dreamed it will be possible. It all looked like a perfect life. Then, I found him wearing my clothes. A accepted and allowed him to cross-dress in the house. Then, he found my guilty secret, that I wanted to be a shemale... and he brought me a strap-on. Even so, it still was passion, it was a nice and interesting experience. All, until Syracuse, one of the 12 mafia leaders, found out. He forced Aslan to become more feminine, even to wear a woman's name, Kira. He forced me to wear my strap-on 24/7, then forced us to work for him. Until now, it was pleasure, but now, it no longer is. We know very well where this is heading. People here have a great repulsion for homosexual relations... and being a cross-dresser is associated with this. If anyone will find out, we risk to be killed. Now, Syracuse can do whatever he wants with us.

since I found Aslan practicing cross-dressing, I started to document myself about this subject. I heard that many men in his situation like to be submissive, like to be forced, humiliated. But not this! It is clear that he doesn't like things up to this level. And neither do I. I guess fellow cross-dresses from America will say "I envy you" for this situation... but not us.

As we go to bed, I just cannot sleep. Seeing him with painted nails, with painted hair, with his exercises to feminize voice, almost makes me cry. He tries to hug me, like in every night. I accept, but not with pleasure. I take his hand in my hand. I am thinking further. How can I have sex with him when he will become even more woman? Then, I keep thinking about the danger that lurks in the air. When people will find out... if they will... What will happen? I think about the worse possible scenario: that they will kill us. But will they? I close my eyes and think. They will start beating us, laughing at us, throwing with garbage at us. We will have to leave, to save our lives. But where? We don't have the money to go to the Civilized World. And even if we will, I've been there once. Those people are so strange to us. They are all like robots.

"What a fuck!" I whisper, slowly opening my eyes.

Aslan is sleeping, holding me in his arms, like in every night. Outside, it is quiet. I close my eyes again, feeling the small strap-on between my feet. It has a small rubber penis, similar to that of a man when it's small. This thing made me very happy when Aslan gave it to me. I was so excited at that time. I thought about secretly wearing it under my skirt on the street. But now, I will have to wear it by force, so that Syracuse can expose me when I don't do what he wants.

I feel to sleep. I have an unusual dream. It is like we are somewhere in the future, in some sort of large cavern. It is huge, a few km large. Above, it is a fake sky. There are many people down here. Aslan is with me. We all look similar, with knee-long trousers and a blouse, with pantyhose and sandals. We are all smoking. Aslan looks like a girl, with long hair and has my height. Then I notice everyone is the same. We all look like women, but we all have penises. A shemale community. Then, we all start to stroke together. A public masturbation session.

Aslan wakes me up. It is now time to start a new day. He comes from the kitchen with a sandwich, a few cookies and two glasses of tea. For a few seconds, I have in my mind everything: the dream, my thoughts about what wrong might happen and thoughts about Syracuse and our new jobs. It hurts me a bit to see him dressed like a woman and looking quite like a woman. The point of no return was the moment I painted his hair.

I eat in a hurry, then dress myself. We both enjoy the quiet time of smoking a cigarette. I keep thinking about the scenario they want us to make. Aslan is now Kira and is my cousin, not my wife. I will tell people that Kira does not know well our language and that's why she is so quiet... and that Aslan left to the Civilized World, for work. It is all a lie... but I feel like a part of Aslan really left. Where is the man I married? Am I going to live with a... woman?

We both leave the house. This time, I advised Aslan not to wear pantyhose, because women in summer usually don't wear and because he is not prepared yet and will destroy them. I am also not wearing them. I can see some sadness on his face for this. Well, it will only be for a few days, not much longer. Then, we will start wearing pantyhose again, when he will feel more confident to himself. Now, it's only the second time he dresses as a woman in public and the second time I wear a strap-on under my skirt in public.

We open the door and walk to the railway station. It is morning. People are going to their daily activities and don't pay attention to us. I am thinking about anything that can pass wrong, anything that might make people suspect Aslan, I mean Kira, is not a woman. It comes from little gestures, that shows who you are. It is not enough to look like a woman, you must act like one. And the main problem is his voice, which still resembles that of a man, even if it is a bit feminized.

We reach the railway station. Things are like always here. People, boxes, cargo, lots of garbage and the old, rusted trains. We will enter the third door, the green one. On the door, it is written: "Railway employees only". We stop for a few seconds, then open.

Inside, there is a large room, with a few people. Someone comes and says:

"Your cards!"

I remember the two cards Syracuse gave us. I show them.

"Number 117 and 118", the guardian says. "I was told you will come. Take a seat and wait!"

There are benches along the walls. Some people sit down, others stand, others just pass by. We sit down. Aslan carefully sits with one foot over the other, as I told him. I look around. Some people are smoking, so I light a cigarette too. There is no smoking ban in this area of the world. People smoke wherever and whenever they want. I am thinking about everything that may go wrong. Even with all make-up, with women clothes and everything we done, Aslan still has something that may betray him. There is something in the bone structure of the face, in the mandibular bone, that is specific to a man. Also, women usually have a smaller torso then men. It is also a small difference in how a woman's crotch looks like. Will they find out?

Time passes and nobody looks at us. Then, a fat woman comes and asks something the guardian. She looks different, with expensive clothes on. I bet she is Syracuse's wife. She then comes to us.

"Who are you?" she asks.

"I am Abida and she is Kira, my cousin from Over The Mountains", I say, trying to look as natural as possible.

She smiles, knowing that Kira is in fact Aslan.

"Follow me", she says.

We pass from this room, through a hall with many doors. I hear beeps. All railway stations communicate by radio, using the Morse code. This must be it. Then, we enter a door to a small room, with a desk and some papers on. The woman sits down and lights a cigarette.

"This is my desk", she says. "I understand that you are new with this job. Don't worry, you will get used to it".

I feel a bit relaxed. She doesn't seem t be aggressive.

"This is what you will have to do. Sometimes, one will be at the office and the other one on terrain, sometimes both will be here and sometimes both will be on terrain. You will change places between you. First of all, you must know that you are not alone. There are others doing the same job. Our company's law is 'your left hand must not know what your right hand is doing'. So, it is strictly forbidden to give anyone any information of who you are and what you are doing. You might pass close to others and they will not know you as you will not know them. Understood?"

"Yes", I say.

"Understood, Kira?"

"Yes".

"You know the dictator-executor-informator principle?" she asks, looking straight in our eyes. "I see you know something, but not all. This is how all works, here and in any other company. The dictator takes orders and commands each aspect of what must be done. The executor is actually the person which does a job, no matter what that job is. Finally, the informatory is that person which reports back that the job was done... or not. However, you cannot trust anyone. A dictator might use its power for his own advantage, to force executors do his own work. An executor can lie, not do what must be done or hide a part of the profit. An informatory can also lie, take bribery from a dictator or executor. So, it is very important to keep an eye on everyone. The system works because nobody knows who is who, but I do have information about things that shouldn't be like that".

I know the system. It is dictators who give orders, who supervise everything. They decide all aspects, but often they abuse of their powers. Informators are always hidden and report back. Workers are executors.

"You know well how things are. The trains must flow. The grass must flow. The wood must flow. The coal must flow. People must flow. Everything must flow and the railway is the only thing that moves staff and people in this country. But operating it, is costly and there are many points where people can steal. Your job will be to keep an eye on what is happening. Your job is complex. You will gather information on the terrain, then analyze data on a computer. don't play the wrong way, I have other people doing the same job as you do. And I know I can trust you. You know well why".

Yes, we know.

"I know you are not a woman", she says, pointing at Aslan. "And I know what you have under your skirt", she says, pointing at me.

She rises from her chair and comes to us. She takes something from her desk. At first, I don't know what it is, then I realize. They are two fake breasts, with a tube of glue. She handles them to Aslan, saying:

"Put them on, now!"

Then, as Aslan executes her order, I help him. They are large, larger then mine. They hardly fit in his bra. Then, she pushes me below my belly, until she can feel the small strap-on. She sits back and looks at us. I feel like a knife is touching my neck. Forced feminization.

Then, she asks us to come close to her. She puts a laptop on her desk. All I can see is endless numbers, in an excel format page.

"Now, your training begins", she says. "look! Here are measurements of how many people are on each train. The next table shows how many boxes and other cargo are passing. And here, you can see consumption of diesel fuel for each train and maintenance costs for each railway. I have another table with delays, for each rail sector. All this information must be gathered. The program itself detects fluctuations and anomalies. You can see data for each day of the week, for example. It is normal that there will be less people on Friday if the area is populated by Muslims or on Sunday if the area is populated by Christians. However, if data shows unusual changes, there must be something. There are a few tests which shows us if a change in data is correlated with something or if it happened just at random. If you see the same fluctuation occurred only once and only on one railway, it should not be a problem. But if you see this on many railways in the same time or... what is worse... associated with a single employee, then it is a problem".

She stops for a few seconds, to make sure that we understood.

"Now", she continues. "This table shows reports from each one. Each controller and each engineer has to complete a quiz. They don't have names, just numbers. You will never use and see names. They are all numbers. Each train, each rail line, each station, each person, they all have numbers, including you two. Your and others' surveys will reveal the real amount of people and cargo passing by, as well as the nature of all this. By comparing data with those surveys and what controllers and engineers declare, we can see differences. As long as differences are below a critical level, everything is ok. When they are higher, come to my office and tell me. You will also have to check on delays for each rail sector. Many times, people lie about the railways, saying they are too damaged, but in reality, many times they demand fake repairs to steal money and materials. The same happens also with diesel fuel".

We watch all this, starting to lose the point. Then she says:

"I know our employees are stealing, but as long as it remains down to a small level, I accept this. However, this must be kept under control. If things are going the wrong way, I have to take action".

She starts explaining us how this works. She starts to learn us the way to insert data and to calculate. Oh mine! I feel my head is exploding. Only numbers. Only numbers and nothing else! The main railways are numbered between 0 and 9, with branches counting on. Each station has a code number. Each train has a code number. All is in numbers. She gives us a sheet of paper with all lines and all stations, each one with its numbers associated. another sheet shows schedules for all trains. There are four pairs of trains on each railway.

Then, she asks us to insert data from a sheet of paper into tables. We do this carefully.

"Do the first test", she says.

It is a test that compares numbers. We do this. Result is 0.85.

"This is acceptable", she says. When you are inserting imaginary values, after a while, your brain starts to repeat numbers. For example, you might get a fixation with repeating 2 after 4 or adding too much of 6 and no 5. The test is passed. If result were above 1, it could mean that numbers are not real and were wrote randomly. If you get a result above 3 once or many results above 1 for the same informatory, it means data is not real".

It is a lot of work. We do another test, comparing values from two tables. Same train, data completed by the controller.

"You see this?" she says. "Differences ranked at 1.37. That controller knew that an informatory was in the train and worked correctly. Data match with what the informatory told us, with a value of 0.71, so it is ok. But then, when the controller was alone, we have a difference of 1.37. So, there is something strange. Someone is stealing something".

Again, we compare some data. The difference this time is 0.21.

"Too small differences between what the controller reports and what the informatory reports. They are probably working together, stealing together".

"But what if the algorithm used is wrong?" asks Aslan. "I mean, it might be a coincidence".

"I know what you are thinking", she says. "Many new informators are afraid of a possible fake positive result. We are talking here about probability, not about 100% sure things. You will also bring false positive results. The problem arises when they are too many, above a certain limit".

"I see..." I answer.

"Also, problems arise when two different people get different results with the same calculations", she says. "This happens from time to time, as human errors are common. However, if it is too often, it means that there is something wrong. Don't try to lie when you are making your own calculations, even if the data is gathered by yourself. Someone else will also work with the same data".

Finally, after hours of exhausting explanations, we are free. She gives us a laptop to work on and more instructions. Starting from now, we will work at home. We will come here daily, to take data to analyze on a stick and to drop results on another stick. We will take and drop them in a box at the entrance.

Secrecy is the rule here. Nobody must know what we are doing and we must not know anyone. The computer will self-generate our jobs and our schedules: on what train we will go, what we will do, anything.

"Only one thing", she says. "For the beginning, you will go together. At least until you are completely behaving like a woman. And if anything bad happens, in the worst case, show your cards. They guarantee your protection".

**********

We leave, exhausted and with our heads filled with numbers. Who could invent such a complicated system to keep things under control? I know how informators work and that in many cases they rely on math to calculate probabilities, but this is too much. We are too exhausted even to think about how to act in public on the way home. We just walk through the town, trying to clean our heads. This is such a madness!

We go back home, walking directly through the center, through the bazaar. It all happens in such a natural way, like this is how it should be done. Surprising! Maybe, this is the way! Nobody looks surprised at us.

Back home, we enter and fall down on the first coach. I turn on the TV to hear something, to recover my brain from all those numbers. It slowly works. But, the more I recover, the more I realize that Aslan is less Aslan and more Kira. Now, he has fake breasts. He looks like a strong and fat woman should look like.

Where is all this madness going to go?

TO BE CONTINUED