Hello Again

No apologies for being late this time.  For an opinionated bugger who loves to talk, I'm running out of things to talk about - but on mulling things over there's a few points that might be worth mentioning.

Been thinking about self discovery quite a lot, and want to go into that.  I've also been cleaning up (formatting a story for Amazon Kindle) "Dinner With Jasmine" that was one of my first to be written and that I'm fond of, so will probably be adding that today.  Still have some of Rosie's "Bits" that I think of as great, so will be adding them as well

Before I go into them, however, I wanted to say that I got on Carrie's case last week about adding long comments that I would MUCH prefer to see as posts.  Same thing applies to Belinda, Tammi, and Monica.  You guys are all approved authors - yet I haven't seen a post from you in a long, long, time.  Did you lose the capability to post when Chrome took over?  I'm buggered if I know - and stopped writing questions to them because I was ignored completely - so would one of you please TRY?  Let me know if you had any problems and I'll post them here for possible answers? (I was giving up on this blog completely as I couldn't post at all - until one of you nice readers suggested that I use Firefox as a browser - and that worked.  Chrome never once answered my cries for help but I'm getting a fair sized readership with- hopefully - some smart people who understand all of this BS and can help us out.)

On self discovery then?  Being deep in the closet I can only vouch for my own self. I was brought up in Scotland.  Was a tough wee bugger, but at about age six started getting erections at the thought of being dressed in girls clothes.  Knew enough not to go around blabbing about this, but wondered a lot. Got into my teens and thought I was the only boy that felt this way.  Always read a lot, but it wasn't until I was well into my teens that I discovered that I wasn't alone.

So?  For many years I considered myself a transvestite.  Detested this in myself thoroughly.  Could NOT understand this at all.  Read somewhere that ALL transvestites were latent homosexuals - but was damned if I could find the slightest interest in other boys or men.  Probably felt that this latency was so deeply buried that I couldn't find it.

I'm not religious at all, but was considered a Protestant.  Finally, at about age twenty I got friendly with a Catholic and said I had something I felt I HAD to get off my chest.  He arranged for me to go to confession.  It was extremely traumatic for me - lot of tears - but the priest was understanding got me a psychiatrist that I saw a number of times.  I got some benefit from being able to talk about it - but got convinced then that there was bugger all I could do about it.

I liked girls - made it a point to hide what I fantasized about - but liked them (a helluva lot more than boys!) and got engaged to be married.  One of the smartest things I ever did was tell my intended about my predilections before we married.  To be perfectly honest, I didn't know much about cross dressing - and she knew even less - but we've been married a long time now.

I had a lot of self hatred about my sexual fantasies and wants, but one thing always puzzled me.  I had no interest in actually dressing up. What I wanted was to BE dressed up,  Believe it or not, I was in my Forties before I admitted to myself that it was ME that wanted a situation where I was dressed - and that was a difficult thing for me to admit, but it helped my mental state amazingly.  I actually started to like myself - a major change in my whole attitude.

I retired (early) but am just over 20 years retired now,  Started publishing stories on the Internet in the early 90's - and then got into correspondence with quite a lot of us.  My first surprise was when I saw that someone defined a difference between a "Cross Dresser" and a "Transvestite".  The CD felt 'comfortable' being dressed, where the TV did it for sexual release.

I felt this to be total BS for a long time.  Had to be someone who didn't want to admit his sexual needs.  But time has modified my thinking - I've made two very good friends who swear blind hat they actually perform  as maids for women - and get nothing sexual from it. Amazes me to this day.  I don't really know Belinda - but she seems to make the same claim

Don't laugh - but I didn't start tagging myself as a male submissive until about five years ago.  Medication for Prostate cancer has taken away almost all of my sexual drive, but it finally dawned on me.  I always masturbated when I dressed - but couldn't get out of the clothes - or get the makeup off fast enough when I was finished.  At that point, being dressed meant absolutely nothing to me at all,  It was BEING forced to dress that turned me on.

Which has raised a point that still puzzles me to this day.  I consider females to be the bastions of power (at least in my fantasies) in a relationship.  I want them to humiliate me by making me wear women's clothes.  HUMILIATE me by making me look like one of them?  Buggered if I can figure it out.  Can you?

A new wrinkle on self discovery.  Well, new to here anyway.
This is basically a party game, but something that amazed me years ago when I did it - it was just SO bloody accurate.  Try this for yourself.  You can note your answers to the questions asked, but it's really not necessary - just don't be lying to yourself - okay?  Here we go:

You are walking in a wood.  What time of day is it?  Describe the wood?
You are walking on 'something'.  What is it?
You come across a bear.  Describe it?  What is it doing?
You find a key lying in front of you.  Describe it?
You come across a drinking fountain  Do you drink?  Describe from what?
Then there's a lake.  Do you swim?
You see a building.  Describe it? You peek in a window.  What do you see?
You come to a fence.  What is on the other side?

I would NOT suggest that you try this on a friend. I did, and his answers were so awfully self revealing that I had to lie like a dog.  Embarrassed the hell out of me.

I'll tell what the answers mean next post.  In the meantime, her's the story - followed by some of Rosie's stuff.

DINNER WITH JASMINE

By Bea

"Gosh Louise!"  Abigail said  "Your plane got in on good time.  Never thought that you and Tom would get back here so quick."   She wiped her hands on her apron.   "Dinner might be a while...?  Hope you don't mind.

Would you like a drink, or something..?"   She turned to me   "Tom?  How's about pouring Louise a drink?  Louise, why don't you dump your bag on the floor there, and grab a seat."

Louise sank into my big armchair, and smiled contentedly.  "Highly unusual - me on a plane that gets in early."  She shook her head. "Doesn't happen in Bolivia too often, I'll tell you.  Never got through customs that quick either.   Guess it helps when your only luggage is carry-on, and you've got nothing to declare.."  She smiled at my wife.  "But look Abigail, you're all hot and bothered.. Sit down and relax.  Let's get to know each other - I've never met a sister-in-law before.  The food can wait.. Please?..  don't go to such trouble - and yes, Tom, why don't you pour me a drink. Gin and anything?"

I looked at my sister.  I hadn't seen her in almost four years.  Leaner, tougher, brown and hard looking.  I guessed that was to be expected, living with some native tribe on the Amazon for that amount of time.  For some reason now, though she was entirely different, she reminded me of mom.  I looked at Abigail, my wife of two years, pretty in her flounced dress and frilly apron, but already getting a frayed look to her.  I knew that even though they'd never met before, Louise intimidated and scared her - even the way she kept pushing the lock of blonde hair out of her eyes looked tired and defensive.

"Oh, she'll be finished getting dinner to the table in a minute"  I said cheerily as I made Louise's drink, and carried it to her. "She can rest then.  C'mon Abigail, buck up!  Would a drink help you?"

Abigail shot me a look of pure spite, and smiled pure saccharine  "If macho man would get off his ass now and then... do a little more than pour drinks?"

She heard her own bitterness coming through.  "Sorry,"  she said to no-one in particular,  "Just one of these days.  No thanks, Tom.  Maybe later?"

I threw my hands into the air expansively  "Sorry my love!  Mea culpa! Forgive me!"

Louise looked very uncomfortable.  "See here Abigail"  she said  "You don't have to pretend with me.  He's my brother, remember.  I mean, don't hesitate to have him serve up the food, or whatever.  I mean, you don't need to do all this work when he's around.. ."   She stopped, puzzled, looking at the amazed look on Abigails face.

"What in hell are you talking about?"  Abigail sniffed, her awe of my sister temporarily overcome.  "Him?   Serve up food to the table?   He's not exactly God's gift to a busy housewife you know.  To tell the truth, even though he stays at home to 'write' - though he never seems to sell anything - I do all the housework after I get home from work."

It was Louise's turn to look amazed. 

I had a feeling what was coming, and tried to say something, but she shot me a look that I remembered only too well, and I backed off.

"But he's very good around the house."  She said  "I know.  I trained him myself.  Well, that's not really true.  Mummy deserves a lot of the credit too..."

Abigail was carrying dishes to the table.  When she heard what Louise said, she set them down with a discernible thump, and turned to stare at Louise.

"All I can say then is that I married someone who is not your brother ..Or your ideas of 'good around the house' and mine don't match very closely.  He's about as useful as tits on a boar - excuse the language", She picked up the dishes again, and went to set the table.

"Hey Louise"  I whispered  "Take it easy.  This is your brother, my house, remember?"

She looked at me coolly.  "I'm just back from a village where the men beat their wives for the slightest provocation.  There, I couldn't interfere, here I can.  What do you think you are?  You weren't brought up to be some kind of macho man.  If you've been behaving the way I think you have, well, I'm dreadfully ashamed of you.  Now be quiet while I think."

And, apart from the minimal conversational courtesies required at a dinner with two other adults, she did some heavy thinking.  As we got to dessert, she said quietly   "Jasmine.  Go and serve dessert.  There's a good girl!"

Abigail looked around to see who Jasmine was and, in so doing, missed me rising from the table to get the dessert plates.  I heard Louise's voice follow me into the kitchen  "I think I saw a spare apron hung on the

cabinet door.  Put it on to serve please"

Abigail's mouth was hanging open when I returned, wearing her frilled apron that she normally wore only for company, when there was no dirty work to get done.  She leaned back in her chair as I put desserts down in front of her and Louise.  "Does he curtsey too?"  She croaked, dis-believingly.

"Of course"  Louise said  "Jasmine.  Curtsey prettily for Abigail."

Blushing furiously, I obeyed.

Abigail shook her head.  "This is some kind of a joke, right?  I mean, you guys set this hoax up on the way home from the airport, right?  What, in the name of all that's holy, is going on here?"

I was heading for the kitchen to get my dessert, and heard Louise say "Told you he was pretty good, eh?.  I'll give you the full story when we're all settled down.  Hate to talk about someone when they're not there".

She started talking when I got back, and continued while we ate dessert and into the time that I was doing the dishes.

"He's about two years younger than me"  she began  "and I'll admit, he was pretty rambunctious to begin with. Got worse after dad died. Bossy and mean - he even started to fight with me when he got to about six.  He'd get out to play all the time, while I had to do the chores around the house - he really thought he was king of all he surveyed. Typical boy, I guess."  She paused for a second or two.

"Just one thing made life a little easier though.  Mummy used to hate to have his hair cut - it would get all long and wavy - just like a girls - gave me something to tease him about - it would really piss him off.  Well, one day he was being a real pain, you must know, like little boys can be... ?"

Abigail nodded vehemently  "Yeah!  I have a little brother.. Little shit!"

"Well,"  Louise continued  " I had this girl friend over, about my age. We both got fed up with how he was acting, and jumped him.  I don't really know who's idea it was, but we had been playing dress up in some of mummy's clothes, so we had him join us.

"Eh?"  Abigail said  "Join you?"

"Yes.  Dress up too"

"In your mother's clothes?"

"Yes. If I remember correctly, a yellow skirt, blue blouse, floppy hat, pearls, high heels, lipstick..  You know ..?"

"I used to love dressing up."  Abigail mused.  She looked at my blushing face. "But didn't he raise a fuss?"

"I'll say."  Louise commented, "But I'd just had all I could take, up to about here ..."  She raised her hand to her throat.

"... So, as by that time, we'd got his pants and underpants off, I put a pair of mother's panties on him and gave him a good spanking.  It was really strange.  He got this funny look in his eyes, then really quiet and calmed down.  We were doing his hair when mummy came home and caught us."

"Gave you hell, for dressing up her little boy, eh?"

"Actually?  No.  We both thought that we were in trouble, but she seemed kinda halfhearted when she told us to stop it.  I remember,  I was all ready to quit until Kathy, my friend spoke up,  "But he was being so naughty, and now she is being so good!"

"Mummy just smiled, then came over to us.  I could see him getting all ready to jeer when she made us turn him loose.  "You don't have these rollers tight enough girls.  Her hair will never set that way"  is all that mummy said - and then she tightened one of the rollers, then re-pinned it - and walked away!"

Louise smiled softly, reminiscing.  "It was our first attempt at setting hair, but I think we did a creditable job of it.  After we finished tightening up the rollers, we wrapped a chiffon scarf around his head for the rest of the day. "

"The rest of the day?  Did you make him stay in the clothes as well?"  Abigail asked, looking at me disbelievingly.

"Well I wanted to.  But it came dinner time and Kathy had to go home, and I guess that mummy didn't want him to spill stuff down her blouse while he was eating, so she let him change"

"When did you take the rollers out?"

"The next day.  I had promised Kathy that I wouldn't do it without her, so she got there early and I didn't have to wait too long.  We brushed it out.  It was great!  He looked just like a little girl!.  We teased him and teased him.  He was crying and complaining and went running to mummy."

She took a sip of her drink.  "I really think that she was going to wash it out for him, but couldn't resist teasing him a little first.  Well, he raised such a hullaballoo that he got her upset.  The next thing, she was marching him into my bedroom and closed the door. Me and Kathy were both laughing so hard, thinking that she was going to spank him, but it was really quiet for a while.  When they came out, she said  "Girls?  I've brought you a new playmate.  Her name is Jasmine."  She smilked reflectively. before continuing.

"It was amazing.  She had put him in an old pink party dress of mine - all  frilly and flouncy with one of these stick-out petticoats with little pink ribbons - even I had hated that dress, it was so feminine.  She had put a ribbon in his hair, little white ankle socks, white strap-over shoes. God!  He was pretty!  I noticed that he had that funny look in his eyes again.  It was a Sunday.  She made him  play girls games with us all morning.  When we got fed up, I went to have lunch with Kathy. I think mummy made him help with her lunch, then she started teaching him how to sew.  I think it was then that she started training him to be a housewife. He really is good at all these things you know :  cooking, sewing, ironing.  I used to have him wash my lingerie, and touch it up with an iron.  He was very good at that."

I could see that Abigail didn't like the fact that she'd had an accomplished housewife available, when she hated housework herself, but she giggled, seeing my mortification.   "My husband.  In a pink party dress!  Oh my!  I would have loved to see that."  She cocked her head to one side  "Mind you... he might not... look too bad.. even today.  A little padding here and there..? "

"That's what we did as he got older."  Louise laughed  "A little here a little there."

"You mean, you mean ... you did it again?"

Louise looked at her as if she was crazy.  "Of course!.  Mummy pretended for a long time that she didn't like me doing it to him, but she came around after a while.  I'm pretty sure she got a big kick out of it. I mean, she was brought up the same was as I was - boys got out to play.  Girls stayed in and helped with the housework.  She probably felt the same as me - payback was fun."

She got a meditative look in her eyes.  "Guess I was a little shit for a while - you know that saying?  Power corrupts?"

Abigail nodded.

Louise continued, grinning. "Sometimes, I'd tell mummy that he was being all nasty and boyish - suggest he needed dressing up again.  He never did seem to learn that his histrionics just got her to agree that, well, maybe a little dressing up would calm him down.."

Abigail leaned forward.  "And did it?"

"Of course. Just became the sweetest little thing..."

She grinned again.  "And then, of course,  there were the times I'd tell her that he was becoming such a sissy - and suggest that dressing him up in girls' clothes would be a good 'punishment' for him..?"

Abigail sat backwards.  "So. If he's masculine - you dress him up.  If he's feminine, same thing?  Sounds like you made his life quite interesting?"

Louise pursed her lips in an unsuccessful attempt to hide a grin.  "Had him coming and going.  Mummy finally just left what he was to wear up to me.  After that, he was really nice and obedient."  She paused.   "One time - I was really mean.  Mummy had gone to the airport to pick up her sister - aunt Lily.  I knew when they'd be back, but pretended they'd be a long time.  When they came in, they 'caught' him sitting at mummy's dressing table in her lingerie - pink satin it was - her high heels... Pearl necklace and clip on earrings... And putting on her lipstick.  He was Jasmine that whole weekend."

"Even mother started getting in to the act more and more. You should have seen his face one time. He opened up one of her birthday presents to him, think it was his fourteenth, fifteenth, something like that - and it was a full set of matching lingerie - light blue satin. Little training bra, panties, half and full slip, garter belt - and oh yes! - a couple pairs of nylons."

"Oh, how cruel!"  Abigail said pretending sympathy, but then giggled  "Did he ever wear them?"

"Of course.  There and then"  Louise answered.  "Mummy pretended to be so hurt that he didn't like them because he hadn't thanked her or looked happy when he opened them up.  She swore she was going to take him

down to the store where she got them and make him pick out his own.  That got him panicked, I'll tell you, so he grabbed at the chance to model them for us right away.  We agreed that it was O.K. for him to be shy showing

just the lingerie, so mummy lent him this really sexy peignoir, and I made him up. Mummy's shoes still fitted him in these days.  You should have seen him model them for us .. It was so funny!   We let him change out of them then, but a friend of mine came round after dinner.."

"Kathy?"  Abigail asked.

"Oh no.  Another girl friend of mine."

"You mean you had him wear his new lingerie in front of another girl?"

"You don't seem to understand, Abigail"  Louise said  "I was dressing him up on a regular basis.  He couldn't wear girl's clothes to school of course, but we kept his hair long and often at weekends he wouldn't be out of a dress for the whole time." She looked at me directly   "Remember Denise's slumber party?"

Face down in shame, I nodded.

"You didn't take him to a girl's slumber party"  Abigail said, tittering into her hand  "Oh, c'mon!"

"It was girls from my school.  None of them were close enough to me to know I had a brother.  He'd really pissed me off that week, so I took him as my sister.  He did very well, sitting with the girls in the blue

baby-dolls I bought him.  I even had him do Denise's hair."

Louise laughed to herself.  "Then there was the time I couldn't figure what to get mom for her Xmas.  Got him all dressed up in a couple of her evening frocks - really fancy stuff.."

"How old was he then?"  Abigail asked.

"Oh.  About twenty I guess.  Mummy's clothes fitted him just great then - even her shoes.  Anyway, I made him up something great - bright red lipstick, long false nails to match.." She giggled.  "Even false eyelashes.  Took some photographs, had them developed and enlarged the two best.  Had them framed..."

Abigail interrupted excitedly. "In one of them, she was sitting on your knee - I mean 'he' was sitting on your knee...and.. and..you had a sort of safari outfit on, didn't you Louise? .. One of these Australian bush hats..  He ... She.. Was wearing a sort of yellow silk costume?"

 "Yeah.  That's right"  Louise replied.  "How did you know?"

"Your mother showed them to me one time I was visiting there, but I'd no idea it was him."  Abigail replied in turn.  She turned to me, a speculative look in her eyes.

"You really were pretty, you know - and they were taken only what?  Two, three years before I met you?"

I thought I could see where she was going, and tried to get her off the track.   "Look Abigail.  It was a long time ago.  I don't do that kind of thing any more.."

"You might be more human if you did!"  she snapped.  "I wonder how often I'd have liked a hand in the kitchen .. Or had someone do my hair when I was feeling down.. "

"But men don't do these things" I explained.  "Don't you see?  Mom and Louise made me act like a girl so much, I had to sort-of compensate.."

Louise interrupted  "But I thought you'd got to like being a girl?"  She turned to Abigail.  "My last year in college I had to take some classes over the summer semester.  The dorm was pretty empty, and I was too busy

to take care of my room.  He came on a visit, so I decided to have him stay with me to look after the place .."

"Like a maid?"  Abigail gasped.

"Well, .. Yes"  Louise admitted  "But I thought of him more as a..a.."

"Ladies companion?"

"Exactly!"  She turned to me again  "And don't tell me you didn't enjoy it.  You had a great time as Ellie's bridesmaid - remember your blue outfit?"

Abigail started to choke.  Gasping  "I can just see him.. her .. in a long dress.. "   She turned to me  "What kind of material?" she asked me sharply.

"Blue taffeta"  I admitted grudgingly.

"Oh.. Oh .Oh shit!  .. A blue .. A taffeta dress!"  She smiled wickedly. "Did pretty Jasmine have a lovely time dancing with all the boys?"

Louise came to my defense.  "No.  No, he never showed the slightest interest in boys.  He just always seemed to like being with girls."

"Was it a big wedding?"  Abigail probed again. " I mean, how many bridesmaids were there, Louise?"

"Four, I think.  Right Jasmine?"

I nodded.  "Yeah"

Abigail addressed me again  "Where did you get changed .. Into your blue taffeta dress?"

"At Ellie's house."  I answered  "The wedding was there."

She leaned back in her chair, reflecting.  "Tell me.  What were you wearing when you drove to Ellie's house?"

I sighed.  "A black and white polka dot dress"

"High heels?, Hat?"

"Both"

"Color?"

"Red"

"A red handbag as well?"

I nodded.

"Did Louise drive you there?"

"No.  One of the other bridesmaids picked us all up."

"What a pretty picture.  A bunch of girls, all giggling and having a good time in a car.  You all change in the same room?"

I didn't say anything, but she knew the answer.  Suddenly she was snarling.  "You won't help me in the kitchen.  You won't do my hair.  'Men' don't do that?  But you ran around in polka dots and blue taffeta dresses - not counting the pretty lingerie - and getting dressed in the same room as other girls?.  Tell me.  How the hell would you know what men do and don't do?"

She turned to Louise.  "But there's still one thing I don't understand.  I mean, he is a man after all...A sissy maybe, but still ... I mean, how did you make him put the clothes on?"

Louise shrugged.  "I really don't know what goes through his mind, but I think he's just so conditioned into doing what a woman tells him to do .. He just feels that he's got to obey, I guess."

Abigail shook her head.  "Maybe it's me that's been brainwashed" she said slowly  "but I've always thought of him as being stronger than me..." She turned to me, a questioning look on her face.

"Hey sissy?  Let's see how strong you really are.  I used to Indian wrestle with my brothers.  They always beat me of course, but I've never met a girl I couldn't beat.  C'mon over here to the table.  Let's see how you do, eh?"

Shocked at the way things were turning out - and the rapidity of my slide into submission, I stood up and went to the table.  Abigail was setting up two chairs so that we'd sit facing each other across the width of the table.

"I don't really want to do this."  I said, pleading.

Abigail simply shook her head in a disbelieving fashion, and pointed at the chair that I was to sit in.  I slid into it, and faced her across the table.  She looked very grim.  Leaned forward and put her elbow on the table.

"C'mon sissy"  she said, and waggled her hand.

I tried to show a sense of confidence on my face but had no real hopes that it would work.  Put my arm up and my elbow on the table.  Took her hand in mine.  She grinned suddenly, and turned to Louise.

"Never realized it before"  she said  "but he really does have a soft little hand, doesn't he?"  She brought her other hand up and stroked my arm.  " And look at this.  Hardly any hair - and it's all soft too.  Just like a girl's.  But then she looked me straight in the eyes.  "Let's go.  On a count of three, O.K?"

My mouth was too dry with fear to speak.  I nodded.

"One.. Two ... Three!"

It wasn't much of a contest.  I did try to summon up all my strength, and the strain must have shown in my face.  At first, I think she expected more resistance but, as she gauged how much strength I really had, an amused expression crossed her face.  Quite gently then, she simply forced my hand back.  I actually gave up before she had my hand back on the table.  She grinned at me, and actually stopped my hand about two inches above the surface, savoring her triumph.  Just as gently then, she finished the contest, pushing my hand in to the defeated position, flat on the table.

Then she disengaged her hand, and looked back to my sister.

"I would never have believed it.  Now:  all I have to do is tell him to go and get dressed properly?"

Louise shrugged.  "Don't know as you've got to tell him.  I'd say that a 'suggestion' is going to be good enough from now on."

Abigail turned back to me.  Smiled.

"We've been doing things the wrong way around here for a while.  Don't you think?"

I looked at her, not knowing what she meant.  She understood my confusion and explained.

"Well me being the pretty, feminine one - you being the big tough guy.  Now, want to hear how I think it should be?  C'mon.  Speak up."

"Yes Abigail"  I said obediently.

She turned back to Louise and smiled widely. "I really could learn to like this."  She said.  Then her attention came back to me.

"We'll have you being the pretty, feminine one.  Staying home.  Doing the housework.  Dressing all nicely for me when I come home from a hard day's work.  Cooking nice meals - being all sweet and cuddly.  You know, smelling nice, nice make up..?  Does that sound nice to you?  C'mon now.  Does it?"

"Honestly Abigail.."  I started.

"Of course it does!"  She answered for me.  "After all, I've been the housewife for two years now.  Fair's fair, isn't it?  If you're so good at it - and at home anyway, it must be time that you took your turn, eh?"

I looked down at the table in defeat and hung my head.  "Yes Abigail."

"You really want to, don't you?"  She pressed.

Helplessly, I shrugged agreement.

"Very good!" She enthused.  "And you want to start right away, eh?  Want to go and put on some nice girlish, soft clothes, some nice perfume, makeup to make you pretty?.  Bet you do, don't you?"

"Yes Abigail"  I surrendered.

"Oh!  I wish I'd known you'd want this"  she giggled "I'd have all sorts of nice things for you.  But now that I think about it, I've got a really gorgeous set of undies in coral satin that I've never worn - then that pink angora sweater that you always like me to wear - and that nice pleated wool skirt, you know, the pink one.  Bet they look wonderful on you, eh?  So why don't you go into the bedroom and change.  You'll find the undies in the right hand corner of the dresser, the sweater and skirt are hanging up in the closet.  Try some of my shoes - put on something suitable - I'm pretty sure that you'll find something that'll fit.  Come back out when you're finished - go on now, hurry up - there's a good girl!"

Louise shrugged and grinned at me on my way to the bedroom, but I didn't respond.  I went into the room and closed the door.  The undies were in the drawer as Abigail had said: a nice set of satiny material, lace edged - bra, panties, full slip, garter belt.  I found a pair of stockings beside them. Pulled all the articles I'd need out of the drawer and laid them on the bed.

The skirt and sweater were just as easy to find.  I slid them off their hangers and put them beside the lingerie on the bed.  In a fog, I got out of my old clothes and started to put on my new ones.

To tell the truth, I found that I hadn't lost any skills in adjusting the shoulder straps of the bra and slip to suit me.  I had forgotten the feeling of constraint that the same straps gave, encircling my back and shoulder - and the feel of the garter belt encircling my thighs. Before I put the sweater on, I padded the bra cups with some cotton wool.

The sweater felt so soft on my skin.  There were a couple of buttons at the back of the neck that proved difficult to fasten, but I finally managed. The skirt had an elastic insert in the waist band so that it fitted me very comfortably.  A pair of low heeled beige pumps fitted me perfectly.

My hair wasn't very long I saw, looking at my reflection in the mirror - maybe she'd let me wear a wig, and keep my hair at it's current length? I shook my head and walked back to the living room, my sister and my wife.

Walking aroused me - I seemed able to feel every inch of the sweater as it moved fractionally over the satin of my lingerie, the hems of  the skirt and slip as they moved over my stockings - the feel of the stockings as the rubbed each other on the inside of my thighs.  Luckily, the skirt was tight enough that my erection didn't show.

Abigail and Louise were talking about something when I came back into the room.  Abigail smiled and beckoned me to her by crooking her finger at me.

Hastily, I walked over to her.  She held up her hands.  Not knowing exactly what she wanted I put my hands out to hers.  She took hold of mine and gently pulled me down to sit on her lap.  Gently, she nudged me, until my head was resting on her shoulder.  She took up her conversation with Louise again.

"As I was saying .. I really think that 'Evelyn' is a lot more appropriate than 'Jasmine'... I mean, you really need dark hair for one of these oriental names, don't you think?"

Louise looked puzzled.  "But.. he is dark .. at least, darkish, wouldn't you say?"

Abigail laughed.  "Of course Louise.. I guess you're not a mind reader.  I should have said that I'm going to have him color his hair.. Champagne blonde, I think .. maybe even platinum.. I'd never color my own hair that color, but I've always liked it..  So Evelyn just sounds more .. more 'right' somehow."

"Abigail."  Louise said  "Look.  He's yours.  Any name you want to call him is fine by me.  But if you don't mind me saying this .. It's going to be a real pain in the ass when he has to change his hair color back and forward all the time.."

"But why should he be changing so often?"  Abigail asked in turn.

"Well?  You don't see too many guys with platinum blonde hair."  Louise replied.

Abigail's hand was around my waist, her hand cupping my breast under the sweater. She caressed it slowly as she spoke.

"But he's not a guy any more, is he?  He's my little cutie pie.  All nice and soft, sitting here on my lap, being my girl.  Just wait until we get his hair all done nice, and I buy him a whole mess of pretty clothes.  Why, I'd just bet that he'll never want to go back into these ugly 'mens' things again.  Will you Evelyn?"

My wife was carrying this whole thing further than Louise had ever thought of.  It dawned on me, far too late, that Abigail had no intention of having me 'alternate' between being masculine and feminine - I was to be exactly what she had described - her wife - and a feminine one at that - for what appeared to be some time.  With her free hand she tilted my face up to hers and kissed me on the lips.

"That O.K. with you Evelyn?"  she said when she had finished.

I looked up at her, knowing full well that I couldn't hide the adoring look in my eyes any more.

"Oh yes Abigail"  I breathed, and snaked my arms around her neck and kissed her back.

The end

And Here's Rosie's 'Bits'.   Thanks again Rosie.

#XXXXXXXXXXX46

-          I know you don’t understand, honey, you keep repeating it over and over. I don’t understand either, but it doesn’t really matter. All I know is that we don’t have the money to pay all the back rent we owe Mrs. Steiner and if she’s willing to write our debt off in return for you spending time with her, then you better spend all the time you can with her. Or would you prefer to be evicted?

-          Of course I’d prefer if you spent your time with me, but no, given what I’ve just finished saying, I don’t mind at all. Anyway, she said there was nothing sexual in it. Or is it?

-          Well, there you go. You go down there, have tea with her, listen to her stories, look at her picture album, whatever.

-          As I said, I don’t have to understand, nor do I need to have an explanation for every little detail. She has eccentric tastes, what can I say. Like I said, if you can pay our rent just by being with her while I’m working, then that’s what you’ll do and you’ll wear whatever she wants you to wear.

-          I don’t care if she wants you to wear a gorilla suit, for all it matters. She’s the only one who sees you dressed like that, anyway.

-          Wait, hold on. What do you mean, physical. Get your story straight, mister. First you said there wasn’t anything sexual going on, now you’re saying it’s getting physical between you two…

-          What? Oh, good grief. But there’s no sex?

-          Then I’m satisfied. If she wants you to sit in her lap once in a while, then that’s what you’ll do.

-          Carry you around? Oh, you poor baby. She is a big woman and you’re, well…

-          Oh, stop acting insulted. It’s not your fault you’re as tall as you are. I mean, you could have gone to the gym to buff up some, but really, what can you do about you height? Anyway, in this particular situation it’s only working to our advantage. Think how much clothes I’d have to buy you then, if you were bigger. We’re really lucky that my shoes fit you so well. With clothes, there’s some give and take both ways, but it’s harder with shoes.

-          Embarrassing? Is it? You know what’s embarrassing for me? That I can’t afford to pay rent because my husband spent all our savings on some goddamn get rich quick scheme. My unemployed husband, to be more precise. So unless you have a better idea how to pay the rent, please stop complaining and stop moving about so I can put the bra on you. God, you’d think by now you’d learn to dress yourself. Can you at least clip on your stockings?

-          You what? Oh, let me guess, it would be just too embarrassing for you, poor baby, if mean old Mrs. Steiner bought you some clothes. Let me tell you something, my clothes cost money too, not just the extra ones I bought for you.

-          I’m saying I’d like to wear them myself. I didn’t buy this skirt for you to wear while you sit on our landlady’s lap.

# XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX48

“Julie, how lovely to finally see you wearing a dress again,” my mother in law cried as she greeted us in her house, “You look so lovely.”

“Thank you, Martha,” I said.

“Oh my,” she said setting her eyes on my husband, “Was this really necessary?”

Already doubting my decision on Jake’s outfit, I felt myself blushing.

“It is a little over the top, isn’t it?” I said, “But you know me.”

My husband minced into the room behind me. He was wearing a ridiculously frilly pink dress with a full skirt and a petticoat underneath. I started even feeling sorry for him, but on the other hand – I like to give out the message that it’s me who’s in charge between the two of us. Usually I wear pants so I allow my husband much more sensible clothes. This time, however, Martha specifically requested I put on a gown. I had no reason not to go along with her wishes – I looked quite good in my black sleeveless silk dress – but I let her know: if I‘m not wearing pants, neither is my husband.

“Oh, Jake, what have we gotten you into this time?” she cooed, hugging him. I couldn’t help but notice the crackling of the material of their dresses.

# XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX49

It took all my strength to stay calm and keep smiling to Mrs. Henderson when my brain was screaming to run away or to break down and cry. A look at my mother reassured me somewhat – as usual, she was calm and composed.

“I really appreciate you offer, Linda,” she said, “But we really should get going.”

“But I’ve just baked my absolutely best strawberry sponge cake to date, Sarah,” Mrs. Henderson insisted.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to take a raincheck on that,” mom said, “”You see…”

“Now, now, Sarah, you can afford to take a raincheck as you can come by later anytime you please,” Mrs. Henderson replied, “But you niece,” she looked at me, raising her eyebrow inquiringly, “Might not have that chance as we don’t see her that often around here. She’s never even tried my strawberry sponge cake. Don’t you think it’s unfair to deprave her of it?”

The way she looked at me as she uttered the word ‘niece’ sent another wave of shivers down my spine. However this time, mother’s comforting image of calmness appeared to crumble.

“You place me into a very unfortunate position,” she said, “But we simply cannot afford to stay.”

Yet at the same time we slowly started pacing towards Mrs. Henderson’s front door. Mrs. Henderson crooked her arm, seemingly offering her to my mother but the quizzical look she gave first me, then my mother implied that the offer was in fact a command. Obliging for want of another option, my mother took Mrs. Henderson’s hand who little by little pulled her closer towards her, until my mother was practically leaning on Mrs. Henderson’s larger figure.

When we reached her front door, she let go off her hold and we were standing in a circle, my mother’s back to the door, me facing my mother and Mrs. Henderson in between.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” she said, “But why is your niece wearing your clothes?”

“Whatever do you mean, Linda?” mom said calmly, though turning as pale as the wall behind her.

“Oh, I’d recognize this green skirt of yours anywhere,” Mrs. Henderson said, waiving her palm towards me, from the waist down to my knees, “And didn’t you wear this blouse yesterday?”

“Well, you know how young girls are,” my mother replied dismissively, “Dying to get in their aunts’ wardrobe.”

“To tell you the truth, my Julie does borrow a little something from my sister every now and then,” Mrs. Henderson said, “But last month – the dress your niece wore, the dark blue one with white polka dots, it was one of yours again, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t remember, really,” my mom said, “In fact, I don’t remember meeting you at all that time, though it is a while a go.”

“Oh, we didn’t meet,” Mrs. Henderson replied, “But I do spend a lot of time in the kitchen,” she pointed to the window facing the street, “And I can’t help but notice people walking by. Now I don’t mean to pry into your lives, but it seems every time I see you taking a stroll with your niece, she’s wearing your clothes. I swear, it is if as she didn’t have any clothes of her own.”

I saw my mother swallow hard, her eyes darting around in panic, as if looking for a way out.

“I wouldn’t have notice otherwise,” Mrs. Henderson said, “But it is rather strange to see clothes this serious on a girl as young as your niece.”

“Oh, that’s…” my mother started, then stopped, as if searching for words. Before she could continue, Mrs. Henderson spoke again.

“And another funny thing about your niece, if I’m not being too intrusive,” she said, moving closer toward me, “How come we never see your son when she’s around?”

I watched mother’s mouth open and close in silence once, twice, then she laid down her arms.

“Please, Linda,” she almost whispered.

Mrs. Henderson put her arm around my waist and we moved closer towards my mother. Mrs. Henderson opened the door.

“Now are you positively sure you can’t come in for a bit?” she said victoriously, “Julie’s been dying to meet your niece. Maybe she could even lend her one of her dresses, something more appropriate for her age?”