Sunday, September 9, 2012

Soap Box Time!

Just read Carrie's post.  You know?  I studied management for quite a long while.  Something that I found to be very true?  When you're studying an office system in depth, you often run into someone who does something quite complex but who maintains - honestly (as far as they can see).  "It's really simple.  If I can do it - anybody can."

It's not the same thing, but I know that I've been bamboozled a few times by transvestites or CD's making statements that make me blink in disbelief.  They are so far distant from myself.  For many years I could NOT believe that some guys dressed as women, particularly maids, without wanting or needing sexual release.  They HAD to be kidding, I thought.  (Have had enough people saying this to finally believe it - though I still have a helluva time taking it in).

Now?  I consider Carrie a great friend - and we've corresponded much longer than this blog has been in existence.  But to say you were grown up before you ever wanted to dress?  (And I know for a fact that he had women around him).  WHUT?

I had my first erection around the time when I was six.  Didn't know what it was - but kinda liked it.  Called it my 'submarine' (Don't ask me why.)  Discovered that I enjoyed fantasizing about women having a war with men - and that I was taken prisoner and made to do feminine things - washing up, ironing, cooking, etc.  I didn't have the slightest chance to dress because from the ages of six to ten, I was on a very poor farm, with one woman.  Didn't masturbate.  Just enjoyed the hardon.

At the age of ten though - I went to live with my stepmother. I found that dressing in her clothes was an extension of the fantasies I'd enjoyed.  Did it every chance I got.  LOVED high heels.

Then after six months with her, I went to another house where I lived for the next ten years with various aunts coming through.  I dressed at every opportunity.

But in all honesty?  I don't think I focused on maid servants until I saw the Movie.  "The Servant" with Dirk Bogarde.  At that point I got the strongest possible thrill out of the idea of a lowly servant actually taking over and lording it over me.  (Naturally I differed from the movie - seeing a female servant.  But the strongest person in the whole movie - was actually a woman). From that point on I was hooked.

I knew diddly squat about gender problems, but gradually came to the conclusion that I was a transvestite.  Even then, I kept finding that I wasn't quite the same.  Believe me, I was pretty damned old before it finally dawned on me that I was submissive - but to females only

So?  I agree with just about everything that Carrie said - except for our age difference.  Just goes to show, that it is REALLY hard to generalize.

But that's me off my soapbox for the day.  Here's another short story.  Hope that you enjoy it.


TEXAS GIRLS


"My!  You're a pretty little thing" I said, patting Maggie on the rump.
 Normally, this would bring on a shy, flirty smile, but there was none forthcoming this time.  Her lips  actually pursed into a disagreeable pout.
"How come you're always talking down to me, huh?  I mean, you're not that much bigger than me.  Matter of fact, I'm not so sure that you're bigger than me at all!"
"Well?  Would you rather I said 'Hey you big lump?"  I laughed.
"No!"  She said sharply  "just seems that every time you can't get it up in bed, that I get complimented on how tiny - or little - or sweet  - I am.  Like you're consoling me for not being able to do it. Like it's my goddamn fault.  Let's face it, you're no bigger than me - and you're no ball of fire in bed either - how'd you like it if I called you a sweet little thing, huh?"
I'd never seen Maggie this contentious.  "What's going on in that dainty.. sorry, .. gorgeous, head?  What's the matter honey?"  I asked, acting serious now.
She relaxed a little, but not much.  Shook her head.
"It's been a bad day, hon."  She admitted.  " I mean, I don't want to sound ungrateful - but that blue dress you bought me?  It's so damn frilly - I can tell that the girls think I'm an idiot wearing something like that - almost like my momma would wear.."
"I think you look great in it!"  I said.
"Dammit John!"  She growled, angry again.  "Let me dress myself!  I don't need you!  We can't afford clothes for me  - especially ones that I don't want.."
"That's right!"  I huffed.  "We going to get back to you being the breadwinner again?"
I'd maybe used this approach too often.  She just shook her head. Sighed.
"John?  Maybe your book will sell big - and maybe we'll make a lot of money from it?  But for the last year?  I'm working.  You're at home.  I'm earning what income that's coming in, you're spending it - not only that, you're buying clothes for me that I don't want!"
"It's symbolic, I guess."  I said sorrowfully.  "Just have to see you as my sweet little wife.."  At this point I saw the anger flare in her eyes again, and changed direction skillfully.  "I know I'm a drain, darlin' but I guess I've got to get the feeling that it's me that's doing the supporting around here..."  I took a peek at her - she still wasn't buying it!  Decided to change the subject.. "So what made the day so bad?  That new girl.. What's her name again? .. Boz?"
She smiled for the first time.  "Nah!  She's great!  Just that Mary Johnson again.  Big pain in the ass.  Worst customer I got".  She gritted her teeth, then remembered something.  "Boz is looking for a room somewhere.  We're getting real short again hon.  What do you think?  We could put her up no problem - and we could sure use the money..?"
I didn't like the idea of sharing our house with anyone but, at the same time, wasn't looking forward to explaining my latest acquisition for my personal computer.  I mean, I already had more games than you could shake a stick at.  Not only that, my 'explanations' of why I needed this particular software (never did use the term 'game' to Maggie) to help me write my book were sounding paper thin, even to me.
"Think you can trust me with another woman in the house?" I asked playfully.
Maggie cocked her head to one side, obviously considering what to say.  Looked down at her shoes. "No John.  Don't see much problem there at all as a matter of fact."
I flushed immediately.  Was she alluding to the fact that I was kinda slow, not very aggressive in the sex department?  I opened my mouth for a sharp retort, but she continued.  ".. Have the feeling that she's more into girls.  Don't know for sure, just a feeling I have."  She raised her eyes to mine again.  "Do you think you can trust me?"
I'd never seen Maggie in this kind of mood before.  She had been so painfully shy when we'd met.  Give her the slightest compliment and she'd blush.  Ask her to make a decision - any decision - and she'd get a frightened look on her face - always defer to me.  In many ways, mentally and physically, I knew we were very much alike - I just hid things better, or put on a more confident demeanor.
Inside, I knew what I was doing to this lovely girl was awful.  I'd been fired from my last job for incompetence, but had convinced her that I had quit - to write the great American novel.  My intentions had originally been good, but the blank screen on my computer terminal had become such a terrifying part of my life that I'd started buying games - to help me overcome 'writer's block'. Up to that point (about three months after I started) I had written all of fifteen pages.  In the last seven months, I had added to this amount, two whole pages - maybe.
And it was becoming obvious that my sweet young wife was toughening up.  I felt little flutters of trepidation in my stomach at the embarrassment that would ensue when I 'discovered' that my computer had 'crashed' taking a years work with it.  But I put on a grin and answered her question.
"Sure!  You love me, don't you?  Just like I love you?  Who's gonna come between us.  Some female hairdresser?  Not likely!"
She smiled at me, and I knew that I'd said the right thing - finally.
The following day, I wasn't in the best of humors.  My new game hadn't come up to expectations and I was more than a little discombobulated when Maggie called to say that she was bringing Boz home for lunch.  "Let her see the place, and give you two a chance to meet.  Honest John?  I'm sure you'll get on like a house on fire..."
"But what are we going to eat?"  I asked.
"Well... "  She paused.  "I was sorta hopin' that you'd make lunch - there's that leftover spaghetti from the other night.."
"Aw hell!  Maggie!"  I yelled.  "I'm really doing good this morning.  This'll just set me back too much..."
"O.K!  I'll pick up something on the way.  But dammit John!.."  Her voice tailed off.  "I'll see you then"  she added, and hung up the phone.
I don't know why I did these things to Maggie.  I really loved her, respected and looked up to her, but I just seemed to make the same mistake over and over again.  I was so terrified of shedding any of the macho image that I'd built of myself that I fought against doing anything that would help her around the house - and it wasn't that I couldn't - my mummy had made damn certain of that!  I sighed at my own stupidity and hung the phone up.
Boz was nothing like I'd imagined.  I mean, I'd met most of the other girls that worked beside Maggie - intricate hairdo's, immaculate makeup - quick to sense my disinterest in them, and just as quick to turn their attention to someone else.  She, on the other hand, was .. different.. is as good a word as any.  About five eight or nine.  Skinny.  Fuzzy blonde hair, cut short - and the brightest, clearest, most piercing blue eyes I've ever seen.
She wore blue jeans cinched with leather belt and silver buckle and stuffed into a pair of tooled leather cowboy boots.  A checkered man's shirt - mainly blue.  A turquoise and silver necklace - kinda chunky, but good quality goods.  Looked very authentic.  A gravelly voice and a damned strong grip as she shook hands.
"John?  A real pleasure to meet you sir.  You're extremely lucky to be married to a charmin' lady like Maggie here - nicest girl in the shop, bar none."
I was impressed, no - bedazzled is a better word.  I mean, her height wasn't that great, even enhanced by the heels on the boots, but it was like she towered over Maggie and myself.  I really didn't know how to react to this dynamo in our house so, flustered, made her as welcome as I could.  I did see a kind of grin on Maggie's face at my reaction to her friend, but I couldn't seem to help myself.  Within ten minutes it was as if Maggie and I had known this woman all of our lives - and sat entranced at her feet, so to speak.
It didn't take even that length of time for her to graciously thank us for our 'kindness' in taking her in - and raising the amount of rent that Maggie had asked for considerably.  "My pappy always beat into me that you paid for what something was worth to you.  I'm sorry John.."  Here she turned to me  "Maggie has told me about your book, and I know that a working girl don't make enough to carry a husband without some sacrifice, so I'd rather pay you what the room's worth than what you're willing to take for it."
I was pleased and astonished.  This woman was too good to be true!  I looked at Maggie.  Smiled.  She smiled back.  The deal was struck. Boz'd take the next few days to pack, then move in.  She turned down our offer to help her move. "T'ain't much, and I don't see the shop taking kindly to you and me being off the same day."  She said to Maggie.  "But I will take you up on that offer John if you'll help me move in?"
I was only too pleased, and said so.  I was even more delighted when, instead of the one month's rent we asked for in advance, she paid us for three.  All of a sudden, the sun was shining on us financially.  I promised myself that I wouldn't splurge on any more computer stuff for a while.
We finished up the meal.  She shot a glance at me when I offered to show her around and left the clean up for Maggie.  She didn't say anything though.
She was quite impressed at the configuration of my P.C.  At first I tried to snow her, then discovered that she not only had a degree in computer science - she'd owned a computer store at one time.  "Big machine for a writer."  was all she said.  Then she saw some of the game cartridges.  This drew another look, but no comment.
They left shortly after that, in a hurry to get back to the beauty shop in time.  I settled back into my normal afternoon, soaps on TV, then some games on the pc.  Got back to sitting looking studious for Maggie's return that night.
She came in, gleaming.  "Didn't I tell you you'd like her, huh?  Isn't she just marvelous?  Know something else?  I just found out from Alice that Boz has put an offer in to buy the business!  Seems she's just been working on the floor to see how the girls are!  And she likes me!  I might get the lead's spot!  Wouldn't that be great!"
Caught up in her enthusiasm, I had to agree.  We celebrated by going out for a pizza and a carafe of wine.  We were both a little tiddly by the time we got home.
As agreed, Boz showed up a few days later but at about eleven a.m. , rather than the afternoon.  "Thought I'd take longer"  she explained  but I really would like to get back to the shop, they're short handed today."
With that, she started carrying her belongings up to the room we'd set aside for her.  She was delighted and full of energy, tearing up and down the stairs with her stuff, tiring me out just by looking at her.  Somehow or other, I ended up hanging her clothes in the closet.
Apart from a lamp, some framed photographs and books, she didn't have too much other than clothes - but they were mostly in the pants, tops, sweat shirt line rather than skirts and dresses.  "John?"  She asked, cajoling me,  "Would you mind, terribly much?  Just touch up a couple things for me  with an iron?  I really need to get back to the shop, and I don't want to hang them up wrinkled.  You wouldn't mind, would you?  Just for old Boz?"
Somehow or other, she had separated about three pair of pants and a blouse from the rest.  I felt silly saying I would, but it seemed to be too inhospitable to refuse.  I seriously thought of waiting until Maggie got home,  and have her do them, but decided against it.  Actually?  I was quite flattered that Boz had thought enough of me to ask.  Accordingly, I missed some of my soaps that afternoon - I so wanted to make sure that I did a good job on her stuff.
They came in together.  I sat and kept Boz company for a while, as Maggie was making the meal.  "You don't cook at all?"  She asked, watching Maggie scurry around in the kitchen.  I just shrugged, and she seemed to forget all about it.  I excused myself to go freshen up a while later.  "Mind if I look at your computer for a minute?"  She asked.  I wasn't too keen on the idea, but waved my permission as I left the room.
I wasn't more than five minutes getting back to the living room where we'd sat.  She wasn't there, so I went to my office.  I could hear her fingers flying on the keyboard as I came along the hall.  She looked up at me as I came in the room.  "Haven't done much writing in a while, eh John?"
I reddened.  "Well.  I have as a matter of fact.. Just the other day.."  My voice tailed off.
She shook her head.  "No John.  I wasn't going to pry into your actual writing - I've known a lot of authors, and not many of them like you looking at their stuff until it's close to publication.  I just wanted to see how many pages you are into it.  There aren't many showing, are there?  Not only that, you haven't accessed the file in quite a few months.  Having problems?"
I blushed even more. I felt like a kid in the principal's office.
She continued.  "John?  Ain't none of my business.  But Maggie's my friend.  She's really counting on you to make a lot of money when your book gets published.  She wants out of that beauty shop so bad."
"Don't tell her Boz.  Please?"  I asked.
"No intention of doing that, hon."  She replied.  "None of my business.  But don't you think it would be fair to Maggie if you did some work around here?  That way, if your book never gets published, at least she'll have got something back for supporting you?"
I had to admit, her suggestion did make sense, and I felt bad that she had found my secret.  At the same time though, it was a weight off my mind, sharing it with someone.  "O.K. Boz"  I agreed.  "You're right.  Maybe I should go out and get a job?"
She shook her head.  "Don't think so John - not unless you can really add a lot to your book.  If you quit, I'd imagine she'd want to see what you've done and, what is it, about twenty pages?"
"Almost."  I replied.
"Not much for a years work, is it?"
"No."  I admitted.  "It's not.  But I've come to a total standstill.  Can't get anything going.  A really bad case of writer's block."
I was embarrassed again, and it showed.  She got up from the computer and came to me.  Put a comforting arm around my shoulder.  Gave me a hug.  "D'you mind me asking?  What's the plot, storyline - whatever you call it?  You don't need to tell me if you don't want."
I was only too glad to discuss it with someone, not having to exaggerate about what I was, or was not, doing.  She listened with attention.  Never interrupted once.  Shook her head approvingly, and thanked me for sharing it with her.  Just as she did so, Maggie called us back to the dining room for dinner.
The addition of Boz to our table was an extraordinary event.  Don't get the idea that Maggie and I ignored each other - far from it.  It was just that with Boz there, the topics of conversation expanded incredibly.  She was good with stories and anecdotes, but didn't hog the conversation.  I amazed Maggie - myself as well - when I got up from the table and started to clear away.  She couldn't believe it.  "Showing off for Boz honey?"  She said.  Then, turning to Boz.  "Enjoy this.  It's probably the last time he'll ever clear the table again."
But it wasn't.  By the time a couple of weeks had gone by, it was happening at every meal. I just couldn't seem to get enough of Boz's (hidden from Maggie) approval.  At first Maggie was dumbfounded, but quickly came to accept it as her due.  It wasn't too long after that that I took over the cooking of the meals as well.  And don't think I was unhappy, things were moving along very nicely - I was writing again - quite a lot actually, and it was all thanks to Boz.
She had called me one day from work.  "I've got an idea John.  Would you spend a couple of hours doing something kinda crazy for me?  I don't want Maggie to know.  O.K?"
"Sure Boz.  What do you want me to do?"
"These books that she reads.  You know, the paperbacks..."
"Oh.. The 'bodice rippers'?"  I replied.
She laughed.  "Good description.  Yeah.  Them."
"Well?"  I asked, after she had paused for a couple of seconds.
"Would you just read a couple of them?"
"Oh, c'mon Boz.  That's just trash.  Why do you..?"
She sighed audibly.  "Yeah John.  You're right.  But please?"
"You're not going to tell me why, are you?  I asked.
"That's right John."  She laughed again.  "I've an idea.  It's probably crazy - but it might work.  I don't think it would though, if I told you why."
That afternoon I read "Sabers and Hearts".  Actually, it wasn't that bad.  So I didn't have much trouble reading another of the same ilk the following day. Maggie stayed a little later at the shop that night, so Boz and I had a chance to talk before she got back.
Boz examined both of the books I'd read.  "Yeah.  Perfect.  What did you think about them."
"Kinda dopey" I replied.  "Now.  Will you tell me about your idea?"
She nodded.  "Yeah.  But I want you to do something else first.  Want you to spend exactly an hour on it after clearing up the dinner dishes.  Will you do it?  Promise?"
"Depends."  I said.
"C'mon John!" She wheedled.  "Please!  Just for me?"
"O.K"  I grumbled, secretly happy.  "What do you want me to do?"
"Promise?"  She insisted.
"Yeah.  Yeah.  I promise."
"Great!"  She said.  "I want you to go to your computer.  Spend exactly one hour writing.."
"Aw.  C'mon Boz.."  I started.
"Just shush until I've finished.  O.K?"  She said.
Chastened, I nodded,
"I want you to start writing one of these .. What did you call them..?  Bodice rippers?  Not only that - I want you to write in the first person - as the heroine..  If you haven't come up with anything by the end of the hour, I'll have been wrong - and I'll tell you what - I'll do your dishes for a week.  How's that?"
It struck me that she now figured the dishes were my job, but I wasn't going to quarrel about it.  I thought her idea was stupid, but didn't say anything, other than nod, to accept her terms.
That night, true to my word, I left Boz and Maggie chatting, after I'd put away the dishes.  Went to my PC with every intention of just looking at it.  There was no way, I thought, that I could write stuff like that.  I sat in front of my terminal, not a thought nor plot in my head.
Suddenly, without a moment's hesitation, my fingers were beating on the keyboard.  An hour later, I'd done almost eighteen pages.
 I couldn't believe it.  My writing wasn't too good - didn't match even the level of the books I'd read, but the story line was great, and it was as if the characters came walking onto a stage in my head and spoke their lines without any assistance from me.  Editing was obviously needed, but I figured that I'd lose no more than two or three pages - and a net output of fifteen pages in an hour was an incredible amount for me.
I really wanted to stay and keep writing, but Boz had actually warned me not to do this.  As she'd never been wrong yet, I wasn't about to go against her advice, so regretfully shut down the computer for the night.
When I got back to the living room, Maggie and Boz were in deep conversation, so Maggie never caught the questioning glance that Boz shot me, or my affirmative grin in reply to her unasked question.  And that was me, off to the races as far as writing was concerned.
Other developments had taken place as well.  I was now writing steadily during the day.  Not as rapidly as that first episode, but it was a rare day that I didn't get at least five or six good pages done.  I suppose I would have got more, but housework was now taking up a lot of my time.  As well as the cooking and cleaning up, I was now doing the washing and ironing as well.
As a sort of joke, Maggie had produced some of the frillier aprons I'd bought for her, but that she'd never worn.  Suggested, smiling, that I'd take better care of my clothes with one on. In the same manner, I'd agreed, just as a joke.  Somehow or other though, I was now almost permanently ensconced in one - even during the daytime when neither she nor Boz were at home.
And it may sound strange, but I watched the friendship between Boz and Maggie develop into a romance as the weeks went by, Boz wooing her in front of me, subtly at first, then becoming more and more open about it - and I didn't object.  It got to be quite common, Maggie perched on Boz's knee, with me in a frilly apron bringing them drinks, or tidying up the room.  One night, Maggie was sitting on the couch, Boz's arm around her shoulder.
"Hon?"  She asked me.  "Would you do something for me?"
"Sure Maggie.  What d'you need?"
"That white blouse of mine.  Think you could check the buttons?  There's a couple loose I think.  Need to be firmed up.  Then, if you wouldn't mind.  Could you give it a light wash by hand, then hang it to dry?"
As is probably pretty obvious, even Maggie was starting to look on me as some kind of servant.  But it didn't seem to matter.  My book was coming along and, since Boz had come on the scene, Maggie's need for sex had diminished considerably - it wasn't that we didn't have any, mind you, it was just that what we did was a lot more satisfying.  It may have been that it was now Maggie that was initiating it or that I was now almost permanently in the underneath position, but whatever the reason we were both a lot more content.
So, that evening, I sat sewing my wife's blouse - and making some minor repairs to some items of her lingerie while she and Boz got in some serious necking on the couch.  I wasn't mad at either of them as one might expect, but I found myself getting pretty jealous - not of Boz, more of Maggie.
And she guessed as much in our bedroom that night.  Teased me about it.  Blushing like a schoolgirl, I denied it, but giggled a few times in discomfort.  She was talking to me as if I were a girlfriend for goodness sake - not her husband!
And, more and more, I was being treated like a girl by both her and Boz.  Just little things at first.  Boz would address us both as 'ladies' or 'girls'.  Then Maggie would refer to me as 'she' or 'her'.  I made a few weak protests, but was told that they both were so used to dealing with nothing but women that it was hard for them to change.  I was stupid enough to point out that sometimes Boz seemed to be addressed in the masculine mode - so how did they explain that?"
Maggie looked at Boz as if my question made no sense whatsoever.  "Boz is mannish"  she replied.  "Doesn't get offended by it.  Do you Boz?"
"Not at all!  Honey lamb"  Boz answered going to her and kissing her on the lips.
I was about to indignantly point out that I was also... Then saw the full, frilled, floral skirt of my apron, the heavily laced bib covering my chest, and decided to keep quiet.  From that point onwards, I never raised the point again.
Then I'd got to over a hundred and fifty pages of my book.  I was very proud of it, so one night when Maggie had asked how I was doing, I asked if she'd like to read it.
"Why don't you read it to us?"  Boz suggested.  "What a treat.  Hearing it from the author directly.  Don't you think so Maggie?"
Maggie gave the idea her full approval, so a little while later, they sat entwined in each other's arms while I proudly read the opening chapters.
They were delighted.  Maggie particularly.   "Oh John.  That's wonderful!  Will you read us some every night?"
"Be delighted to."  I answered.
But though I never lost any enthusiasm for reading my efforts, another layer of masculinity disappeared from me.  Remember that I was now reading a first person novel - and my name was Elizabeth Ashley - the (so called) illegitimate daughter of the local squire.  As her, I was in a constant battle to defend my honor from a series of scoundrels as I tried to find the key to my lost inheritance and marry the man I loved.  Maggie actually started giving me tips when 'my' behavior wasn't what a 'real' girl would do.
And, more and more, I became Elizabeth in my non-reading tasks.  Both Maggie and Boz laughingly apologizing at first, but gradually getting impatient if I complained.  And it didn't take too much longer for me to pick up the name 'Betty'.  The usage of this was dependant on the mood they were in.
Then one evening, right after I'd finished reading, Maggie brought up the point she had in our bedroom some weeks before.  "I think Betty's jealous"  she remarked.
"Oh my!"  Boz answered, turning to me.  "I'm sorry Elizabeth.  I really didn't mean to steal Maggie away from you..."
"Oh don't be silly!"  Maggie interrupted.  "It's me she's jealous of.  She wants to be the one that's sitting on your lap, getting kissed and all that good stuff.  Isn't that true Betty?  Isn't it?"
Boz looked at me, smiling. "Well.  That's a real compliment Elizabeth.  But surely Maggie's just teasing you. Is that it?"
I could only look at my feet in embarrassment.  Next thing, Maggie was at my side, arm around my shoulder.  "C'mon Betty.  Boz won't bite.  Come on."
I followed her gentle tugging and went with her over to where Boz was sitting, smiling up at me.  Gently, I was fed into her arms, then down onto her lap.  Her arm around my shoulder she pulled me until I was lying backwards, face up to her.  She kissed me firmly on the lips.  I felt my whole body go limp in submission.
Her left arm slid under my right arm now, and I was cradled properly in her arms.  My own arms rose, almost as if I wasn't directing them and encircled her neck.  Her right hand started caressing my breasts and tummy, occasionally sliding down a notch to make feather light touches on my erection.  Boz lifted her lips from mine, looked across at Maggie.
"D'you mind Maggie?  You're not mad at me, are you?"
"Oh Boz!"  Maggie laughed.   You're a lot of fun, but I've been thinking that you were ready to move onto somebody new."
"You're not leaving us Boz, are you?"  I asked, frightened.
She kissed me again.  "No sweet thing.  She means you."
"Eh?"  I said stupidly.
"She guessed I was interested in you - and vice versa.  I do have the reputation of playing the field, and I don't make any commitments to anybody.  I think we're all on this earth to enjoy each other - as many times as we can.  I've never had someone like you before and I'm curious..."  She kissed me again.  "I'm not coming on too strong Betty?"
Helplessly wanting more, I just gazed up at her.  She kissed me again, and I slid into a sort of sexual mist until it was time to go to bed.  She didn't make love to me or anything like that, but I couldn't have stopped her if she'd tried - not that I wanted to stop her.
In our bedroom, Maggie was kindness itself.  She seemed to understand how much I wanted Boz, and yet at the same time how I was being petrified by confusion as to what my role was. "Scary, isn't it?"  She asked.  "Boz just had to look at me and I got weak in the knees."
I had to agree, especially as my legs just shook every time I thought of her.
"But there's something you're gonna have to think about," she continued  "and that is, how far are you going to go to attract her, eh?"
Her meaning didn't get through to me. "What do you mean Maggie?"  I said.
She came and took hold of my shoulders.  Looked me straight in the eyes. "Boz likes girls John.  You're nice and girlish now in your aprons and answering to 'Betty' and 'Elizabeth'  and doing all the girl's work in the house, but is it enough do you think?"
"What.. I don't know.. What do you mean?"  I stammered.
She shook her head.  "Girls make themselves attractive.  Make themselves pretty, wear nice sexy clothes, smell nice - and don't think Boz doesn't appreciate that kind of effort.  Now, you've gone part of the way.  Question is, how much further..?"
"Do you think she expects me to..."
"I don't know,"  she answered  "but do you want to try and attract her that way?"
"But I don't have clothes or any of that stuff.."  I said.
She shook her head again. "Don't be silly.  You could get into anything of mine.  Might actually be a bit big for you.  Remember you tried my shoes on that time?  Fitted you okay if I remember right.."
"You want me to wear dresses and stuff?"  I asked weakly. "Is that what you're saying?"
"Nah!  I'm not saying anything of the kind"  she retorted.  "I'm simply saying that Boz likes girls.  By being girlish, you've sent some signals out to her.  Maybe that was all you had to do, but if you're not sure and want to keep on attracting her.... Then you might want to consider.. Well.. Makeup.. A little perfume... That might be enough."  She shrugged.  "It's up to you."
Shaken, I didn't answer her, but a few minutes later in bed, I discovered that my session on the couch with Boz had really sexed me up.  I started pressing my body against Maggie.  She giggled, then turned to lie facing me on he bed. "Boz gets you hot to trot, and you take it out on me?"
Face flaming, I nodded, took hold of her hand and pressed it against my burning face.
"O.K  but just one condition.  O.K?"
In my need, I'd have agreed to anything possible.  Three minutes later, ensconced in a set of lacy, lime green baby dolls, I lay in my wife's arms as she made love to me.  After we'd finished, she told me to wear them for the rest of the night.  "Give you some idea of what it's gonna be like."  She said.  I was too tired to argue and actually, I sort of liked the sensuous feel of the material against my body as I drifted off to sleep in her arms.
I woke up to find her looking down at me, a smile on her face.  "You are pretty cute.  Know that?  Think I'll keep you after all."
She smiled as I stretched and yawned.  I had forgotten what I was wearing until I jumped out of bed.  Was thoroughly embarrassed when she let out a little wolf whistle.
After I'd showered and dressed, she halted me before I left the room.  "Remember what we discussed last night?  You want a hand for tonight?  Give me a call at work.  I'll try to get home a little early, give you some tips?"
I flushed.  "I don't think I want to put a dress on or .."
She held up her hand to stop me.  "Don't mean that hon.  You're not ready yet.  But I can maybe help touch up your hair a little?  It's almost long enough to set, you know?  Maybe a little makeup?"
I shook my head in fright.  She gave me an understanding smile.  "That's okay hon.  Don't worry about it.  She probably likes you, just the way you are."
And that was that, I thought as I started breakfast.  The whole idea was just crazy.  But Boz was into the kitchen before Maggie.  She simply took me in her arms and kissed me full on the lips, and I got the knowledge that I would do anything within reason to make sure she came onto me some more.  No way was I going to put on a dress - or anything like it.  But a little touch of lipstick or perfume?  Lots of guys wore makeup now.  What was the harm in it?
I really didn't want to call Maggie, but I did experiment with some of her lipstick - and it wasn't as easy as it looked.  I kept smearing it, or getting it lopsided.  I certainly didn't want to try the perfume on - I'd no idea of how much to apply.  Finally I called her.  She giggled and laughed, but in an excited way - not nasty, and promised to come help me.
She got home with plenty of time to spare. I haven't mentioned it, but Boz had bought the store.  Not only that, she'd bought a vacant store beside them and was setting it up as a boutique.  She wasn't staying late or anything, but she didn't have as many chances to leave early as she'd had before.
It felt strange at first, sitting side by side with my wife as she showed me how to apply lipstick properly.  She made me do it again and again until I was nearly as good as she was.  Then she teased me into doing 'something' with my hair.  I'd just shampooed and conditioned it, so it was just about how she liked it.  Weakly protesting, but more curious than anything else, I allowed her to spend a little while with an electric curling iron.
 It made a difference.  She hadn't seemed to do much, but all of a sudden, there was a decidedly more feminine cast to my face.  I was petrified.
"Oh Maggie!  What have you done!  I look like a girl!"
"So?"  She responded  "what d'you think I was trying to do?  Make you look like an elephant?"
"But ..."  I protested weakly as she approached me, tweezers in hand.  "What are you doing?  Don't!.."
But she brushed my objections aside.  "You're just not used to it, that's all.  Let me pluck a few stray eyebrows just now.  You'll have an hour before Boz gets home - plenty of time to wash everything off or out."
And, little curls pinned with bobbi pins, glossy lipstick, and just a touch of blush.  Eyebrows a little finer arcs than they'd been that morning, I got dinner ready while Maggie watched TV.  About ten minutes before Boz was due, she came and stood in front of me.  "Well?"  Was all she said.
I gulped.  "D'you think I should?"  Was all I could manage.
She smiled. "C'mon silly!"  She said, taking my hand and leading me back to the bedroom.
I wore my prettiest apron, fresh on, some of the roses embroidered in it matching my lipstick.  My curls jumping a little.  Eyebrows now better defined with a light application of eyebrow pencil, a discreet dab of perfume at my wrists, ears and neck, I met Boz at the door.
Blushing I stood, eyes downcast as he held me at arms length.
"Thank you very much Betty."  Was all she said before she kissed me hello.
Then she did the smartest thing she could have possibly done.
"What's for dinner hon?  Smells good - really good!  I could eat the ass out of a dead horse.  Now why don't you pour me a little Jack Daniels then start dinner if you please - I'm a'rarin' to chow down!  Get a move on woman!"  And gave me a good clap on the backside.
 Giggling, I did exactly what she'd said.
After dinner that night, safely in her arms, I cuddled into her happily as she and Maggie talked about the days events.  I don't know - I just felt so secure there.  I started to feel that I had maybe been a little hasty in turning down Maggie's offer of clothes.  Might it not be a good idea to 'feel' good as well as 'smell' and 'look' good?  I'd got that idea as her hand had discreetly slid under my apron skirt, then unzipped my pants.  There had been a definite pause when she'd felt my jockeys, hadn't there?  Did I get the feeling that she was disappointed at not finding something nice and silky there?  She didn't say anything, but I felt a sense of remorse at not having something nicer on underneath.
And the next night - and from then on, I was wearing panties.  And my makeup advanced - now mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow - nail polish , both finger and toe nails.  With Maggie's help, my hairdo became more and more feminine.
But still, Boz wouldn't make love to me.  Night after night, I went to bed with Maggie, frustrated with my lack of success with Boz, and becoming more and more familiar with the feminine role in bed with her.
Maggie couldn't have been more supportive, but I always had the feeling that there was something she knew that I didn't.  She and Boz were strictly friends now - there was no evidence of anything other than that.  At the same time though, in my mind, I felt I was doing something wrong.  I was doing just about everything that would attract Boz to me, but other than cuddle and kiss me, she wouldn't come on any further - and I was too shy to ask - though I did just about everything else to show my willingness.
Things went on like this for a while.  Boz's new boutique was getting ready for it's grand opening.  Before she opened it to the public though, she decided to have a costume party opening for her friends.  "Other than me, it'll be just girls."  She announced.
I was very hurt by this and mooned around for a while.  Later on that evening, sitting in her arms, I wasn't acting too happy.
"What's the matter Elizabeth?"  She asked.  "What's wrong?"
I sniffed. "Nothing!"
She smiled at my response.  "C'mon sweetie.  What is it?"
"I want to know how come I can't go to your party!"  I blurted.
She looked at me as if I was crazy.  "What are you talking about?  Of course you're invited.  Maggie too.  Where did you get such a dopey idea?"
"You. You said that other than you, it would be girls only!  You did!"
She burst out laughing.  "My god Betty!  You don't think that I consider you a man?  Surely!  Come on!.  Matter of fact I think I've got costumes in mind for all three of us."
I was greatly relieved.  Relaxed happily into her arms.  She kissed me  "Silly little goose"  she said, and kissed me again.
And the three of us discussed the costumes she had in mind.  Dillinger (her) Edgar Hoover (Maggie)  and the lady in red (me). I was immediately frightened.  Going out in public as a woman?  Maggie also raised a point.
"Going to invite the girls from the shop?"
"Of course." Boz said.  "Any reason why not?"
"Well.."  Maggie said slowly.  "Most of the girls there know Betty.  It might be kind of embarrassing for her.  Not only that - she'll be going there as your girl, I mean I don't mind that she's your girl at the moment Boz, but I'm not sure I'd like the girls at the shop to know.  You see?"
"Gotcha!"  Boz said.  "Here. Let me think a bit."  We all sat quiet for a few minutes.  "Got something, maybe."  Boz finally said.  "What do you think of this?"  And she laid out her idea.
The fashions at the time of Dillinger's death had women wearing hats most of the time. Under a hat, I could either wear a platinum blonde wig - or have my hair colored for the party.  I'd have to wear really high heels.  Act like a woman.
"Don't you see?  We've got a couple of weeks.  In that time, Betty can get really used to heels and how to act properly - as a girl of course.  Then, wearing a hat with a veil - I doubt that anyone will recognize her.  What do you think?"
I started to answer.  Boz put a hand softly over my mouth.  "Betty?  Be a good girl.  Just sit there quietly.  It's Maggie's opinion I want.  Going to be good?"  She took her hand away when I nodded meekly.  "You were going to say something Maggie?"
"Sounds good.  You mean everyone to think that Betty is just one of your girlfriends from another part of town?"
"Yes. That sounds about right."  Boz agreed.
"But supposing.." I started.
"Betty!"  Boz snapped.  "I told you to be quiet!  If you speak again before I let you know it's okay?  I'll take your pants down and give you a good spanking on your panties.  Going to be good?"
I didn't answer, just snuggled deeper into her arms, terrified in one way, but content in another.  I knew very well now who was boss.
Maggie went along with Boz's idea - sort of.  "I don't know, Boz.  Getting Betty to pass as a girl in amongst a bunch of women?  I mean she's coming along nicely, but in two weeks?"
I was going to say that I didn't think that two weeks was enough either.  On top of that, I wasn't entirely convinced that I wanted to be the 'lady in red'.  But Boz was in a kinda bad mood that night and though the idea of her spanking me was very interesting, I wondered how much it would hurt and kept quiet.  The two women finally came to the conclusion that there was enough time to discuss the matter again, maybe come up with different costumes.
Maggie surprised me in our bedroom that night.  She made love to me, but was a little peremptory in mounting me.  After she was finished, she stayed where she was, straddling me, toying with the lace neckline of my nightgown.
"Tell me Betty.  I want the truth now.  You really want Boz to make love to you. Don't you?   Be honest now!"
"Yes."  I murmured.
"Next question.  How do you think she's going to do it?"
I shook my head.  "I haven't really thought about it."
She straightened some of the ruffles on my gown.  "Nonsense!  Of course you've thought about it.  You want her to take you in her arms, right?"
"Yes"  I said softly.
"Kiss you nice and hard.  Make you want to melt into her arms.  Right?"
I nodded.
"Caress you in the nice places?"
Shamed, I nodded again.
"Then what?"  She asked.  "Do to you what I do?  Take your panties down, get on top of you.  Move up and down?"
"This is really embarrassing." I muttered.
"If that's what you're expecting, you'll be a helluva lot more embarrassed if she does ever take you to bed."
"What?  What do you mean?" I asked.
She played with my ruffles some more.  I could just make out a sort of grin on her face in the darkness.
"Jesus Betty!  She wants you to be her girl.  Don't you understand?"
"Yeah.  I think so."
"Her girl!  Not her man!"
"I don't think she wants me as a man."  I said  "but I'm still not sure what you mean."
"Jesus!"  She snorted.  "She is going to penetrate you!  Not the other way around."
It took a second or two for her words to sink in, but then I gasped.  "Oh, that can't be right Maggie.  Oh please.  You must be wrong.  Oh, I couldn't.."
I shivered in trembling fascination.
"Well then, you'd better give up any idea of her ever taking you to bed.  The only reason she hasn't is that neither of us were sure that you knew what you were getting into.  I mean, you've been getting all nice and girlish, and I think she's nearly carried you off a couple of times.  And you seem to ask for it quite a lot, the way you hang on her, act all sweet and all.."
She paused.  "Look.  I've a suggestion to make.  She wants you in that red dress in public - and acting like her girl.  She really doesn't care if you do a good job or a bad job of passing as a woman in front of the girls or not.  I'd almost bet that she figures that you putting that dress on is saying you'll go all the way - wear it that night, you'll be in a white satin nightdress before you know it."
"White.. Satin.. What are you talking about?"  I asked.
She leaned down and kissed me.  "She's knows you're a virgin, and is going to have you dress the part.  By the way, I've seen the nightgown she's bought you - it's gorgeous!"
I couldn't help myself - a little thrill ran through my body.
She must have felt it. "See what I mean?"  She continued.  "There is the possibility that you'll enjoy being her bride. In fact I'd make another bet on that."
"But wouldn't you mind?  After all, I'm your husband!"
"Not really honey. Lets put it this way?  It's a part of you that I'll never use.  And?  You've got much nicer to me since you've become girlish."  She grinned.  "Maybe you'll get even nicer?"
"But what about being in front of the girls from the shop?  There's no way I could fool them.."  I started.
"Oh?  Maybe there is."  She replied.  "Just suppose I got you a 'trainer' for a couple of days - while Boz and I are at work.  Say you get pretty sure that you can pass?  Say you then decide that you want to be Boz's bride?  That night you go to the opening - nobody recognizes you, you come home - go to bed with Boz.  You'll be a new girl in the morning.  Guarantee it!"
I couldn't help but giggle at her choice of words.
"But what do I do if I don't think I can pass?"
"Up to you - don't go - go.  You're the only one can make the decision."
"But what if I don't want .. want  .. to..?'
"Take it in the ass?  Be her bride?"
I blushed. 
"Same thing. The deals off.  You don't go to the party.  That's it."
"Honest?  You won't make me .."
She kissed me gently.  "You're my .. husband.. I guess.  But I like you.  Boz is my best friend.  I think the two of you can't see straight wanting the other so much.  I'm not gonna stand in the way, but I'm certainly not going to order you into her bed."
I stretched up and kissed her, twined my arms around her neck and happily pulled her down on me again.
 My 'teacher' "Miss Stanton"  appeared two mornings later.  A slim, dark haired lady.  Pleasant features.  Not much makeup.  Sensible glasses.  A gray silk tailored suit with a slim skirt.  White blouse.  Very businesslike.
After I let her in, she had me walk around her a few times.  She nodded approvingly.
"I understand you answer to 'Betty'?"
"Yes." I admitted sheepishly.
"And Betty?  You wish to be taught to pass as a woman, especially in the wearing of a costume involving a very tight dress and high heels?"
"Yes"
"I'll tell you this.  We have enough time, but very little to spare as I've another job coming up.  So?  You do as I say, and without question.  For our scheduled meetings you should wear a tight skirt and blouse or dress.
Makeup is mandatory - though I see that that shouldn't be too much of a problem?  You are wearing cosmetics just now?"
I nodded.
"And .. Of course, high heels."  She looked sternly at me. "And Betty? When you talk to me, you call me 'Miss Stanton' and also, as a mark of respect, you will make a minor curtsey every time you address me, receive instruction, or terminate a conversation. Understand?"
"Yes"
"Yes what?"
"Yes Miss Stanton"  I replied, taking the sides of my apron and dropping a small curtsey.
"Very good"  she said.  "We'll have to work on that voice of yours a little  but I don't see it as a major problem.   You seem to have a naturally soft delivery, we'll just soften it a little more."
I blushed.
"Ok"  she said.  "Now that that's out of the way, let's get you in  some proper clothes.."
She was very, very, good.  Had infinite patience - though she did say that I was an exceptional pupil.  Maggie had given me the run of her wardrobe, so I had no problem in finding the kind of clothes that Miss Stanton wanted me to wear, though I stuck to blouses and skirts when I could get away with it - dresses still seemed ultra feminine to me.
She coached me for three days in a row, from nine a.m until three-thirty p.m. I became very proficient in heels - walking, sitting, standing- opening a handbag or purse.  Applying lipstick, mascara, and other beauty aids.  As she had thought, my voice didn't pose much of a problem.
By lunchtime the last day she was starting to relax, but there was a look in her eyes  - a sort of shiny stare I'd never seen before.  She was sitting at the table as I moved around the kitchen, tidying up.  I was wearing a tight black skirt with the hem just above the knee, a white filmy blouse, my lingerie clearly visible underneath.
All of a sudden, as I passed close to her, a hand snaked out and in between my legs.  Confused, and a little scared, I stopped and obediently stood there as she pushed my skirt up until my garter belt straps were showing.
"Just thought I'd check."  She said thickly, but hooked one of her fingers through a strap.  Pulled me towards her.  "You're a very obedient little thing, aren't you?"
It was difficult to curtsey with her hand where it was, but I managed.
"Yes Miss Stanton."  I whispered, frightened of this new woman.
"And you'd never, never, be naughty.  Would you Betty?"
"Oh no Miss Stanton."  I replied, simpering.  "I do as I'm told."
"Then your partner has never threatened to spank you, has she?"
"Oh no!"  I said, shocked.  Then remembered.  "Well ... Just once.."
She brightened. Still didn't let go of my garter strap.  "Well, you've been such a good pupil, I'll throw in an extra lesson for free.  See?  All you little girls seem to latch on to big dominant women.  They like to spank you at times - and we wouldn't want you not knowing how to behave, would we?"
"No Miss Stanton"  I said as she pulled me closer to her.
And skirt up, panties down, I went over her knee.  There, I was taught how to wriggle, how to evidence delight by bending my legs at the knees, making little feminine kicks and squeals of enjoyment.  I could feel her body gradually tighten under me.  Then she actually spanked me.  It hurt, but I remembered her instructions, squealing and fluttering my legs.  As she finished, she pulled my panties down, and off my feet.
Then she flipped me around so that I was still lying across her knees but now face up, her left arm at the back of my neck, supporting me . "Consider this a graduation present"  she said, putting her hand back up under my skirt and caressing me until I came into the panties that she had wadded around my erection.
She let me up, and I went to the bathroom to repair the ravages that had been done to my makeup, then put on some fresh panties.  She had lost the sort of glazed expression and was now back to normal.  She looked at me, smiling softly.  "Hope you don't mind dear - I just couldn't resist it.  Didn't hurt you too much, did I?"
I curtseyed. "Oh no!  Miss Stanton.."  Then I smiled back.  "It was a little sore ... But...."
"You kinda liked it?"  She asked.
I blushed.
"Well Betty?  It's time for me to go.  I think you've done marvelously well.  I'd have liked to see your costume  .. And you in it of course, but I'm sure you'll do very well.  Give Maggie my best.  She's a lucky girl - but if you ever decide to break up with her?  Give me a call, I'm always on the lookout for temporary maids.  You could probably use the money - and I think you'd be just about perfect."
I blushed again, but made no answer.  She came and gave me a goodbye peck on the cheek.  "It's been fun"  she said, and left.
The days between then and the opening, I spent a lot of time practicing what she had taught me.  I started to have a problem though, being unable to change back to my 'normal' way of walking in front of Boz and Maggie at night.
"Better watch out sweetie,"  Maggie cautioned me  "You're getting to look and act like a girl all the time now.  You've practically become a girl in men's clothes.  If you keep on like this, I don't see you being able to back out of going to the party."
But I'd shelved that option already - was actually looking forward to appearing in public as Boz's girl.  Sure I was nervous when I thought about it, but once I saw the red dress, I knew I was going to wear it. It was a floozy's dress - no two ways about it.  Scarlet satin, tight in all areas, with a skirt that fell well beneath the knees, effectively hobbling me.  The shoes were very high in the heel, but with all my practicing, wearing them got to be second nature, even though my steps did become nothing more than a mincing little walk.
Maggie and I discussed it in bed.  She was delighted to hear my decision, but we agreed to leave it until the last possible moment to tell Boz.  A friend of Maggie's from the other side of town had agreed to do a full makeover on me, the afternoon before the opening, so that I could 'audition' for Boz that evening.
Everything went as smooth as silk.  The girl who came to do my makeover was very professional.   She thought my hair a little short for what I wanted, but made a few suggestions that worked out very well.  She felt that the platinum blonde shade I wanted was wrong for me - "But OK for the part you're playing I guess."  She said.
My hair was shampooed, then dyed.  It took her quite a while to get the rollers and curlers just the way she wanted them.  But finally. A smock on top of my lingerie, I sat in the confines of the hair dryer she'd brought with her.  She then got down to work on my finger and toe nails.  They weren't too bad.  Miss Stanton had given me a lot of tips on how to care for them, so the girl didn't spend a lot of time, before they were buffed, shaped, and colored into a scarlet color that would match my dress.
She then got to work on my face.  Thinned my eyebrows down considerably, then pierced my ears for earrings. "The holes in your lobes will stay open as long as you wear earrings"  she said  "but they'll hardly be noticeable if you stop."
By four thirty she was finishing up.  My hair had been dried and brushed out, my face was totally made up (she did this after checking the head opening of the dress - "Just be careful you don't smear your makeup"  she said).
Maggie got home just after the girl left.  I still didn't have the dress on - but I had managed to change into a set of luscious black lingerie that she had bought me for the occasion, with a lacy peignoir thrown over it.  When she saw me, her mouth actually fell open.  "Holy jehosphat!"  Was all she could get out of her mouth.  I smiled and made a controlled pirouette.  She shook her head.  "I wouldn't have recognized you if I hadn't known." She said, then walked around me.  "But Boz'll be home pretty soon,"  she said,  "so we'd better get going, huh?"
I slid into my dress, now totally content with my decision.  Stood happily while Maggie closed the fastenings behind me.  As if I'd done this sort of thing all my life, I sat at the dressing table and put on my jewelry, a black coral necklace with earrings and a bracelet to match.  Then the hat - a little straw, but a fairly heavy mesh veil falling to the bridge of my nose.
There's not much more to tell.  Boz was just as astounded as Maggie had been, and demanded that the two of them change into their costumes "as a sort of dry run".  Accordingly, I spent the early part of the evening with my two 'men'.  I think that Maggie figured out very quickly that Boz wasn't about to wait until the following night to 'deflower' me, so invented an errand to go on, pointing out that she'd be late - no need to wait up for her.
"Think we'd better get you out of that dress Betty"  Boz suggested. "Keep it fresh for tomorrow night, eh?  Here, let me help you .."
Docile, I stood as she unpinned my hat and put it on a table.  Walked around me unfastened my dress at the back, taking many opportunities to slide her hands around my body as she did so. Trembling now, I stepped out of it.
"WOW!"  she said when she saw my lingerie.  Then she kissed me.  "Why don't you hang up your dress in my room?"  She asked.  "And, while you're doing that, there's a nightgown I'd like you to try on."
 And, in my white satin gown, I joined her in bed.  She was very, very, gentle and applied a lubricant, but it still hurt.  We both fell asleep.  I woke up to find Maggie looking down on us. "You can spend the night here if you want" she whispered, but Boz heard her anyway.  Woke up immediately and sort of sat up in bed.  Put her arm around my shoulder protectively, I cuddled into her.
"Thanks Maggie"  Boz said.  "Appreciate that."
Maggie smiled and left me to Boz's tender mercies.  This time, she wasn't as gentle, but I wasn't as frightened as I'd been, so relaxing, enjoyed it a lot more.
Since that evening, I've dressed in nothing but women's clothes.  The following night, I went to the party as Boz's girl.  Absolutely no-one recognized me, and I had a wonderful time. Boz and I ran as a couple for a week or two more, before she started eyeing up another girl.  My feelings were hurt, but with Maggie's support I got over it.
My book is almost finished now.  Boz leaves us for new quarters in a few days.  With Maggie's elevation to lead hand in the shop we're a little better off.  Our sex is a lot better - very varied, to tell the truth, as both of us play both roles at times.   She's had me go down to the shop a couple of times to work as a shampoo girl when I have angered her about something.  She seems to think that I hate wearing the frilly feminine dresses that I'd bought for her as much as she did.  How silly can you get?
The end




6 comments:

alexvyaz said...

This is wonderful story too.
BTW how many part in "A PRETTY GIRL IS LIKE A MALADY", six or more? ;)

Anonymous said...

Great story I do love your work.
When I started my sissy life I had a similar fantasy about a war and being taken prisoner, think it came from an
old Two Ronnies sketch.It was very funny but those leather clad ladies did some thing to this sissy thats lasted for ever.

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