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Story

 There's a common misconception among men who stray from their wives, engaging in that breach of promise known as marital infidelity.  They all believe that the wife is the last to know and if they are careful, will probably never know.  That's what they rationalize, what they hope is the case, and in some cases, they pray for.

Of course, the reality is different.  Especially since for many men, they don't stray until long after settling into the routines of a marriage.  So when those routines are interrupted by the things that an unfaithful husband has to do in order to find time to be unfaithful, there are changes in those routines that will make even the least suspicious wife in the world wondering what's going on.

A common theory is that many women know about their husband's affairs and choose to do nothing about them.  They consider it a trade-off for the higher standard of living they enjoy while married to the man who is a good breadwinner, and don't want to give that up by ending the marriage.  Some of them convince themselves it is in the best interest of the children to continue in a marriage where the man is being unfaithful, because the intact family unit will give those kids a better upbringing. 

Scott Wright thought of none of those things when he began his affair.  To any outsider, Scott was a fool.  His wife, Linda Wright-Thomas was a partner in a nice-sized law firm in the same building where Scott worked for a smaller firm as a senior associate.  That his wife out-earned him didn't bother him much, after all, she was five years his senior, and in all likelihood he would make partner next year at the age of 31, two full years before Linda had.

Linda was not only a partner and therefore earning a great deal of money, she was also brilliant, attractive and had always been devoted to the idea of making her marriage one of her top priorities.  She was the one who was proactive about weekends away, stolen nights in hotel rooms, and keeping their love life interesting.

But when Donna Lenoir wanted a man, she almost always got him.  Tall, blonde, with a body to die for and a multimillion dollar bank account from her first two divorce settlements, she had come to the conclusion that if she wanted someone or something, she should just get it, enjoy it and be done with it.  She saw Scott Wright in the offices of the lawyer who had handled her second divorce and was currently working on an increase in her spousal support thanks to the effect that her former husband had just turned a movie that he'd produced while they were still married into a new television drama that would make him millions more.  She knew she'd win this one eventually, and when she saw Scott, she knew she would get him into bed with her sooner or later.

To Scott's credit, it had been later.  It had taken her asking her attorney, who was a partner in the firm, to introduce the two of them, and then having Scott take on some of her business in order to get her the amount of time needed, and he had resisted.  But even when you're in love with your wife and you're a normally faithful person, when a beautiful woman keeps coming on to you, as a man you have to do one of three things.  Either give in and enjoy it, tell her no in a very firm way and accept the consequences, or arrange your life so you will never see her again.  Since the last two things weren't going to work for Scott if he wanted to remain on the partnership track at work, he eventually gave in.

The three times he slept with Donna were atypical for Scott.  Normally an extremely talented and attentive partner in bed, he was so nervous and afraid about what he was doing that his performance suffered greatly.  So much so that after the third time, Donna told him there wouldn't be any more trysts, although he would be able to keep her business. 

* * * * *

Linda didn't find out about what Scott had done until much later, and it was only an incredible twist of fate that she found out at all.  If the timing had worked out differently, she would have never been the wiser.  But it just happened to work out that way.

She was fastidious about her appearance, to the point of having her nails done weekly by her manicurist, even though the salon was out of the way.  One day while she was in the middle of a trial, Linda broke a nail during the morning session.  There was no way she could get to her regular manicurist during the lunch recess, and she refused to just put a bandage over it and wait until the trial had recessed for the day.  Instead she had called her secretary at the first break available, and told her to find someone near the courthouse who could repair the nail during the lunch recess and to arrange to have a sandwich delivered there. 

When you have a terrific secretary, such requests aren't a big deal, and by the time the judge had announced a ninety minute recess for lunch, Linda's nail repair and sandwich were all arranged.  The salon was part of an exclusive, high-scale fitness center in the ground floor of one of the local high-rises.  It also happened to be the very salon where Donna Lenoir went every week to get her own nails done.

Fate, a fickle bitch at times, was not kind to Scott.  Somehow Linda was seated at the station of the manicurist who worked next to the lady who did Donna's tootsies and fingers every week.  The television was tuned to the news, and Linda looked up at the screen and listened to the announcer.

"Thanks for that update, Jim.  Meanwhile, yet another dot com company appears to be biting the dust.  Let's go live to Betty Madison outside the Federal Courthouse."

The television's image switched to that of a female reporter holding a microphone with the "Federal Building" sign visible just behind and to the left of her.  "Michael, while the people at www dot prescriptions online aren't talking, an attorney from the law firm that represents them confirmed that the company has just filed for Chapter Eleven bankruptcy protection.  Scott Wright spoke to us a few minutes ago on-camera as he walked out of the courthouse.  Let's go to the video."

The video was a shot of Scott and two other attorneys from his firm trailing behind him as the trio walked out of the building.  Betty Madison approached him.  "Mister Wright, can you confirm if Prescriptions Online has filed for bankruptcy protection?"

Scott looked at her and said, "I'm sorry, I have no comment."

"Mister Wright, I was in the clerk's office, I saw you file a petition.  Was it on behalf of Prescriptions Online?  The filing will be public record tomorrow, anyway."

Scott knew that this smart-mouthed reporter was right about that, but he'd been instructed to try to avoid any negative press.  However, since Prescriptions Online wasn't talking at all, maybe a bit of positive press might help them out.  "You're right, it will be.  But unlike some people have speculated, my client isn't filing for a liquidation.  The petition I filed today is for a Chapter Eleven reorganization, and assuming that we're able to negotiate an extension with a couple of the creditors, I'm confident that my client's operations will continue without interruption."

"Wow, I didn't know he was a bankruptcy lawyer, too."

Donna's comment got Linda's attention immediately.  What did this bimbette with the big tits know about her Scott?  "What do you mean?  Do you know him?"

"Oh, yeah.  He works for the lawyer who handled my last divorce.  I fucked him three times.  Lousy lay, but a nice guy."

Linda somehow managed to keep her face impassive and not let any of the rage that was building within her out.  "You mean you slept with that man three different times, even though he wasn't a good lay?"

"Oh, yeah.  I figured he was nervous 'cause he is married and all, and married men sometimes get a little scared that their wife might find out.  Usually they get better after a couple of times.  This guy only got worse.  So after the third time I blew him off.  I was tired of listening to him gripe about how he didn't want to hurt his wife's feelings."

"Well, how interesting.  The world is really a small place."

"Why do you say that?"

"Maybe because I'm his wife.  Or maybe because I just thought it sounded appropriate.  Doesn't really matter much."

* * * * *

On such minor things do lives become permanently altered in major ways.  Scott's life would be no exception, although nothing was going to happen immediately, or even very soon.  Linda knew instinctively that the woman was telling the truth about Scott having slept with her.  As she sat in her office late that night, long after the judge had called an end to the day's events in court, she sat and analyzed the events of the past few years.  When she was finished, she was fairly certain that Scott hadn't cheated on her with the sole exception of the woman in the salon.  That didn't make what Scott had done forgivable or something that Linda would forget.  She was going to extract some kind of payment from Scott, and it wouldn't be financial, either.

As she sat there, she realized that she was going to have to pretend nothing was wrong in their marriage, even though the more she thought about how she'd been betrayed, the more she realized that the marriage was effectively over.  Or was it?  Could she move past what Scott had done?  Perhaps.  In time.  Once he had paid a heavy enough price, she would then decide whether or not the marriage would go on.  If not, she was attractive, and never going to want for money, so there was nothing to worry about.  Except how to punish her man for having strayed.

* * * * *

As Linda sat in her office, trying to figure out how she was going to proceed from that point forward with Scott, he was in his own office writing a memo to the firm's senior partner, explaining how he'd thought that talking to a reporter and trying to portray his client as being in position to survive was a good idea when the client had asked for no negative press, and in fact had made it clear that they didn't want any press.

Scott was in major trouble, and had been subjected to a serious ass-chewing by the partner who supervised him, which was why he was working late, writing out this memo.  Of course, once the President of Prescriptions Online had seen the video for himself, Scott would be off of the hook because he'd done exactly what he'd intended to do, make people think that the firm would survive.  Naturally it wouldn't, although it was going to be around for another year at least, enabling the President and the other senior employees an opportunity to further pad their golden parachutes and to better position themselves for future opportunities as they departed the sinking ship known as Prescriptions Online.

It was well after ten when Scott's cell phone rang.  "Hello," he said into the phone, figuring it was Linda, and indeed it was.

"Scott, honey, are you still in your office?"

"Yes, Linda.  I had to work late after opening my big mouth about the BK filing today."

"I saw you on the news."  Linda almost said something about having shared watching it with a woman that Scott knew, but she wanted him to have no clue, no warning about what was going to happen to him when his payback came.

"How did I look?"

"Not bad, honey.  I think you put your client's situation in a really positive light.  Do you really think they'll make it?"

"Probably not.  They have too much debt, their distribution system needs an overhaul they can't afford, and even when we get the banks to give them more time, they still need another investor to either pump some more capital into the company for the overhaul or they will wither and die slowly."

"Is it a good opportunity for us to invest?"  Linda was always looking for ways to put their money to work to make more of it, and one of her stated goals was for the two of them to retire on their respective 45th birthdays, and spend the rest of their lives enjoying the good life.

"I don't think so, babe.  Let me finish this memo, and I'll be right home.  Do you need anything?"

"Yes.  My secretary forgot to get our dry cleaning.  Can you stop and pick it up?"

"Are they open this late?"

"Yes, Scott, they're open until midnight.  I'll see you when you get home."

* * * * *

Over the next few months, Scott wondered if something was going on with his wife.  She was still loving and sweet, but her appetite for sex had definitely diminished over time.  Three times weekly had become two and then one and then once every other week at best.  At one point, Scott considered hiring a detective to follow Linda, to see if she was being unfaithful, but he decided against it.

Linda had hired one to follow Scott the morning after his affair had been revealed to her, but it had been a waste of time and money.  Scott wasn't doing anything untoward at all, and after several weeks of surveillance, Linda knew that there probably weren't going to be any future incidences of infidelity.  But she had to do something about this and pay Scott back.  She was getting tired of handling her sexual urges with her fingers and vibrator, although she didn't want sex with Scott right now any more than was absolutely necessary.

Then the answer came to Linda one afternoon, and once again it was the cruelty of Fate that did Scott in.  Linda had contracted a very virulent strain of the flu, and was in the middle of her second day of complete bed rest at home.  She was sipping orange juice and watching television when yet another of the over-the-edge talk shows came on.  This one was really wild.  It featured two women who had forced their husbands to dress up like women, and had made them go out and actually get jobs in their female guises.  After a while, the men had been brought out on the stage in female attire.  One of them looked like an ordinary woman, not at all attractive or unattractive, just incredibly average, although the appearance was clearly that of a female of the species, right down to the earrings, fingernails and permed hair (not a wig).  The other man actually cut an attractive figure in the royal blue suit that "she" wore out onto the stage.  "She" even walked in her three-inch heels like a girl, and when "she" sat down and smoothed out "her" skirt, crossing "her" legs at the knee, it hit Leslie that this was her way to extract some payback from Scott.

A long, long time ago, Scott and Linda had had a very long and difficult discussion about the very topic of men wearing women's clothing.  Scott's teenaged crossdressing and his revealing of that part of him to his new wife had shocked and disgusted her.  They had reached an agreement where Scott had promised to never again dress in feminine garb at the risk of losing Linda and his marriage.  He'd agreed reluctantly, although as time had passed and his sex life grew more and more satisfying, he missed it less and less.

This wasn't going to be easy for Linda, but she would work out a plan and by the time she was finished, poor Scott would not know what had hit him.  Or her.  The more she thought and planned, the better she felt.  By the end of the day, the flu was gone.  So, although he didn't know it yet, was Scott's future as a male of the species.

She would have to be clever.  She couldn't use her own clothing, it was just too small for Scott.  While he was thinner than most men, he still couldn't fit into the tailored suits that Linda wore to work.  Her idea was clever, and she began buying the things she would need for Scott's little transformation and hiding them away so he wouldn't find them.

* * * * *

It took her two full months before she was satisfied with the wardrobe she had picked out for Scott.  Seven different women's business suits, most consisting of a jacket and matching skirt, that were designed to be worn with a blouse.  She'd purchased blouses, including one that was actually a white bodysuit that gave the appearance of being a button down shirt.  She bought hose and shoes in his size, and wasn't completely satisfied until there was a nice collection of lacy white lingerie.

Then she set out to spring her trap.  She took Scott out for a very romantic dinner on a Friday night, after a relatively short day at work for both of them.  They came home and made love, something they hadn't done for almost three weeks.  Afterwards, as they lay cuddling in their custom-made king-sized bed, Linda said, "That was really nice, Scott.  We need to do that more often."

"Yes, we do.  But that was awfully damn good, sweetie."

Linda smiled.  It had been good.  Now was the perfect moment.  "Scott, honey, can I ask you something, and you'll be honest with me?"

"Of course, baby."

"Do you remember how you told me you used to like dressing up like a girl?"

"Yeah, babe, why do you ask?"

"I was wondering if it would still excite you like it used to.  If so, I think we might let you do that once in a while, so that we can have sex more often."

"I don't need the extra stimulation, Linda.  You're way more than enough for me."

"That's sweet, Scott, but I really would like to do this.  I am so sure it will be fun for you that I even went out and bought you some clothes.  Want to try them on?"

"Not tonight, babe.  Maybe tomorrow."

"Okay, honey.  Maybe tomorrow."

* * * * *

Linda knew from the moment that Scott pulled the pair of white silk panties up his legs and tugged them into place that the hook she'd set had been completely swallowed by Scott.   A bulging erection could be seen in his panties.

The more that Scott dressed, the more fidgety and flushed he became.  By the time he was wearing the complete outfit, Linda knew that he was going to become putty in her hands.

"Now that I can see for sure that this does get you all hot and bothered, let me tell you my little idea, Scott, honey."

"Sure, babe, what is it?"

"Well, I was thinking that it must be torture for you to watch me getting all dolled up every morning and wishing you could do the same, which of course you can't.  So my idea is that a couple of mornings each week, you should get all dressed up like a lady lawyer, too.  Then after you're all done up, we can share an early breakfast, and then you can get cleaned up and dress up as your boring male self.  Then all day long as you are looking at other women wearing skirted suits, you can think about how cute you were that morning and how good the sex is going to be that night when we get home.  Maybe you can even wear something feminine under your male suit."

"I'm not wearing lingerie under my male clothes.  Too dangerous."

To herself, Linda thought, 'We'll see about that.'  Aloud, she said, "Okay, hon, we don't want to do anything you aren't comfortable with."

* * * * *

One morning, the following week, the alarm went off an hour early.  Scott got up and groaned, but Linda said, "Come on, it's your first morning in a skirt and that's going to mean extra work at least this morning.  Let's get you into the bathroom and get started."

Getting started included using a crème depilatory on Scott's legs, arms and chest hair.  There wasn't all that much of it, anyway.  He showered and dried off, wearing Linda's terrycloth robe, and as he walked into the bedroom, she dusted him with some of her scented talc.  "Honey, that's gonna make me smell like a woman all day long."

"Nonsense, dear.  You're going to take a complete shower and rewash yourself off after we have our early bird girl's breakfast.  Now let's get you all dressed and made up so we have a few minutes together to enjoy this before you have to undo all our hard work."

She helped him into panties, pantyhose, a bra that she stuffed with some sacs filled with some kind of gelatinous solution that felt heavy and firm like a real breast, and that managed to fill the cup of the bra completely.  Then she helped him pull on a pair of pantyhose and a half-slip, and then to put on the white silk blouse, black skirt and jacket and the sensible, two-inch career woman's heels.  Linda insisted on doing Scott's makeup herself, and after she was finished with that she added a nice wig and a pair of clip-on earrings.

"You look marvelous, honey.  Now go on down and make us some breakfast while I get myself all done up."

"Me make breakfast?"

"Absolutely, lady.  You've joined this side of the gender aisle this morning, so you can do the cooking on these mornings as well as I can."

Scott didn't like it, but he marched downstairs like a dutiful wife would, and began making breakfast. 

Later that morning, he looked nervously at the woman's watch that Linda had slipped onto his wrist while doing his makeup.  Finally, he said, "Honey, I'm going upstairs to grab a shower and put on my male stuff."

"No you aren't."

"What do you mean, no I'm not?"

"When you're dressed like a girl, I'm the one who is going to decide when it's been enough time.  You don't get to go upstairs and take a shower until I say its time.  If you ever go up before I say it's time, that's the last time you get to dress up like a woman.  Fair enough?"

"Okay, Linda, I'll play along.  Let me know when it's time to go upstairs so I can shower."

"Fair enough, sweetie.  Since you asked nicely, this time you can go now.  But next time you wait until I say it is time to go shower, no matter how long it takes.  Okay?"

"Okay."

* * * * *

It happened just once a week at first, then twice a week, and pretty soon Scott was dressing up in a woman's business suit three mornings a week.  His lips were beginning to look more and more feminine as the continued use of lipstick was starting to have a slight 'dye' effect on the lips, as they were becoming more and more red like a woman's lips, rather than the light pink they normally had been.

He was also becoming more and more at ease in the clothes.  Linda noticed it.  He managed his heels much more easily, remembered to cross his legs when he sat down, and always smoothing out his skirt so it wouldn't get wrinkled.

Her big plan for the next step was altered the next day when a major announcement was made by Linda's bosses that would have a major impact on the lives of both Scott and Linda.  Her law firm had made a deal to buy the business of Scott's firm.  The partners of Scott's firm would either receive a very large buyout, or would join the acquiring firm as partners.  But the associates would all be let go, including Scott, even though he was the most senior associate and the next one in line to become a partner.  That didn't matter to Linda, she was a partner in her firm already.  But Scott was going to have to start all over again.  And since that was the case, why not get started right, she figured to herself.

* * * * *

Scott's old boss was apologetic, but there was nothing he could do.  The firm did arrange for the associates to be able to retain their offices for another ninety days, so that they would have a place to conduct their job searches from.  They could use the computers to generate resumes, and the fax machines to send out those resumes. 

This kind of thing is well known in the human resource industry.  It helps displaced employees to keep a sense of normalcy as they searched for a new job.  So Scott would be continuing to go to the office each morning.

The first couple of days after the announcement weren't good, and Scott was actually ready to go back and begin the job search when Linda suggested that he go ahead and go into the office that day and start looking. 

The following morning, she'd had Scott dress up in his purple suit.  It was one of Linda's favorites and in fact, she'd gone out and gotten one for herself just like it, after seeing Scott in it the first time.  The skirt was straight and fell to the knees, while the jacket had nice gold buttons on it, and it was cut so that no blouse need be worn beneath the well-lined jacket.  With the right bra and the jacket's top button undone, if fitted properly, it showed off the wearer's cleavage quite well.  While Scott's cleavage was nothing more than the fiction of gelatin falsies, it still looked impressive when he wore this suit with one of those "special" bras that were designed to lift and separate.

It was the first morning since losing his job that Scott had been allowed to dress up, and he'd gone all out.  He had done his own makeup, pulled on the longer of the two wigs he now owned, and had made a terrific breakfast for Linda, who noticed that and commented on it after she was finished eating.  "Great breakfast, honey.  Why don't you go read the papers and let me do the dishes today?"

Scott had done so, and because his car was in the shop for a tune-up, he would be carpooling to the office with Linda.  So he lost track of time, and suddenly Linda was tapping him on the arm.  "Time to go, honey."

"Oh, shit!  I lost track of time.  I won't have time to change.  I guess I'll have to stay home today after all.  Damn, and I wanted to get into the office and get some resumes out to some of those firms that are looking."

"So, come on in.  In case you hadn't noticed, I'm leaving early this morning, and the building will be practically deserted when we get there.  You can go into the Ladies room on my floor with me and I'll stand guard while you change."

"What about the scented talc I put on this morning?"

"Just use a lot of your own deodorant before putting on your shirt, and make sure to use some extra aftershave.  It should be just fine.  Now grab your guy clothes and let's get going."

* * * * *

Scott's pulse was beating like a nuclear powered stopwatch as he followed Linda down the hallway.  The carpeting was thick, and his high heels were a bit more difficult than normal to manage.  When they finally entered the ladies room, it was even worse.  The heels clicking on the hard, marble floor was an even more frightening sound.  Linda checked every stall to make sure they were all empty, and then sent Scott into the handicapped stall, with an admonition to hurry up.

It seemed like only seconds had passed.  One minute, a skirted Scott was walking into the stall.  The next, Scott, nattily attired in a gray three-piece suit of male design was walking out.  All traces of makeup were gone, and the purple suit had been hung up and inserted into a garment bag that he handed to Linda.  When she tittered at him he looked at her with an exasperated expression.  "What's wrong?"

"Your earrings don't go with that suit, love."

He grimaced, pulled off the hoops that were clipped to his ears, and handed them to her.  She slid them into the side pouch on the garment bag, along with the purse she'd insisted that Scott carry to make his outfit look more authentic.

"Did this get you all horny, since it's so dangerous for us to do, honey?"

"Yes, actually it did.  Why?"

"Because it got me all riled up, too.  Let's do lunch in the hotel across the street.  I promise we won't eat much.  At least not much that involves eating food anyway."

* * * * *

Over the next three weeks, Scott drove to the office with Linda, dressed as his femme self and changed clothes in the bathroom.  It became a regular thing, and Linda began to put the male attire for the day into the car so that in the scramble to leave it wouldn't be forgotten.

Then Scott began to get interviews.  None of them led to anything, but at least there were nibbles and signs of interest.  The big surprise was that he'd sent a resume to Linda's firm, and he had been granted an interview with the partner in charge of hiring.  It would take place the following week.

On the morning of Scott's interview with Linda's firm, she insisted on playing the dress-up game.  Thus far, nothing bad had ever happened to Scott, and he trusted his wife implicitly in this kind of thing.  He knew that she would never let him be embarrassed.  So on that fateful morning he walked to the car wearing a navy blue skirt suit, with a shorter skirt than normal, showing off his suntan pantyhose encased legs, and the four-inch navy pumps that she'd bought to go with that particular outfit.  He had on the longer, nicer of the two wigs.  He'd done a nice job on his makeup, and when the two of them walked into the building that morning, the new security guard smiled and said, "Good morning, ladies.  You're looking very fine today."

It was just then that Scott noticed that Linda wasn't carrying a garment bag over one shoulder and his calm, cool, collected manner vanished in an instant.  "Honey!" he whispered.  "Where are my clothes?"

"You're wearing them, dear.  Now come with me to my office, and I'll explain the little fix you find yourself in."

What choice did he have?  He had no car with which to depart, no money for a taxi ride or bus trip home, either of which would have meant traveling exposed to public scrutiny in his female garb.  Linda wasn't going to give him the keys to her car.  She had planned this, and tricked him into accompanying her to the office in a skirt.  He would have to go up with her to her office, and see what she had planned.

* * * * *

"Sit down there, Scott, and make yourself comfortable.  I wanted to talk to you about something, and this way I know you're going to take me seriously and not lie to me.  I want to know if you've always been faithful to me, and kept your vow to forsake all others.  So, have you strayed at all since we've been married?  Even once?"

Scott sat there, and this was one of the most difficult moments of his life.  He knew the truth, and he didn't want to admit it.  Because that bitch Donna had tricked him into having the affair wasn't an excuse, and he wasn't the type of man who made excuses of that type. 

"I have almost always been faithful.  There was one woman, some time ago, who practically threw herself at me.  I don't say that to excuse myself or what I did.  I was wrong, and I should have been stronger and not give in.  I didn't and it was wrong and I'm very, very sorry."

"I'm glad you didn't lie to me, Scott.  I would have been very, very disappointed in you.  I would have also initiated divorce proceedings against you.  Instead, I think that we will be able to resume our marriage in time, after some counseling and efforts on your part, we'll be just fine."

"Great.  Then can I borrow the car to go home and change?"

"No, dear.  You look fine, and besides, you have an interview."

"I can't interview for a lawyer position in this skirt."

"You're not going to.  There is a paralegal position open in our litigation department, on my team, as a matter of fact.  You're going to interview for the paralegal position with one of the other partners, and then with me.  I will hire you, and you will work in skirts until I've decided you've paid me back enough for being unfaithful to me.  Here's your new resume, dear."

It was the resume of a woman named Susie Babcock, and she had plenty of paralegal experience.  "But I can't do that kind of job."

"Sure you can.  You type fast enough, and if you're smart enough to be a lawyer, you're smart enough to be a paralegal.  The identification papers you need for hiring are in this purse.  Now run along to your interview like a good little girl."

What choice did he have?  He could have gone back upstairs to his own office, hid out until it was time to go home and then hope that Linda would let him ride with her.  He could walk home in the women's attire he was currently clothed in.  Both of those choices provided several chances of being discovered.  But if he did as she had told him, he might get away with this for today and then they would see what would happen tomorrow.

"Okay, I'm going to the first interview."

"Good girl."

* * * * *

The interview was surprisingly easy.  The lawyer interviewing "Susie" said she seemed smarter than the average paralegal and in the eyes of her interviewer, should have gone to law school.  While 'she' managed to hide her ire at that statement, it did disturb the feminized male enough to the point that he let his anger show a little when he was speaking with his wife on the next alleged interview.

"Do you really think having me work as a paralegal, never mind a female one, is the best use of my education and experience?"

"Don't take that tone with me, young lady, or you'll be an unemployed female paralegal, looking for a job and a place to live.  I hold all the cards here now, bitch, and that's just what you're going to be until I say it's over.  A bitch.  A female.  A girl.  Use whatever label you want.  You're a member of this side of the gender fence until I say otherwise.  Meanwhile, you got the job.  See Elizabeth who handles the HR stuff, and she'll do the paperwork."

* * * * *

Paralegals don't get private offices.  They get cubicles, and Susie was shown to her new one, and promised a name tag.  She had to use the resume' and identification that Linda had furnished to fill out the various forms that a new employee would fill out.  When it was all done, she was left to read the company's personnel manual for non-attorney personnel, and to contemplate her first full day of work tomorrow.

Scott sat there, pondering how he would get himself out of this mess.  He knew the simple answer was to just not dress up in the women's attire any more, and that way he couldn't be forced to take this job.  He just had to get home and out of these clothes.

The first clue that they weren't going home was when Linda took a different off ramp from the freeway than the one closest to their home.  "Where are we going, dear?"

"Susie has a couple of appointments, and I need to drop you off for them.  I'll be around in a few hours, and we'll go to dinner and then talk about your new career and how temporary it might be.  Just do what they tell you where I drop you."

Where Susie was dropped off was a beauty salon in a large strip mall not far from where Linda and Scott's house was.  As Linda pulled away, she stuck her head out the window and said, "There's a note in your purse, honey.  Read it."

Susie opened the purse, and sure enough there was an envelope.

"Scott, or should I say Susie now,

You have an appointment at the salon you are in front of.  They are expecting you, know all about you, and are going to take good care of you.  Their services are already paid for, and so is the tip.  You just need to smile, answer any questions they might ask, and when they are all done, you will be gorgeous and I will be there to take you to dinner.

Love,Linda"

After standing there rereading the note, Susie realized there was nothing 'she' could do at the moment to fight back, so for now she would just have to follow the note's instructions.

* * * * *

Ever wonder just how thoroughly a team of talented, determined cosmetologists can transform a man into a woman?  Especially when the man is already hairless from the neck down and has the right type of figure to pull off the illusion?  Well, the answer came out through the door of that salon about three and a half hours after Scott/Susie walked in.  Except that now, after the work that they had done, there wasn't a single visible trace of Scott to be found anywhere.  Even the hidden traces that one might have seen, save for the Adam's apple, weren't in evidence.  The manly bulge that might have shown in the tight panties that Susie wore beneath her skirt was gone, covered by a precision fitted garment that was especially designed to give a man the appearance of female genitalia.

Susie had been surprised when the ladies in the salon began by cutting her longish hair shorter.  She found out that her relief was short-lived when she discovered the reason for the trim was to make her hair equal lengths so that she could have extensions added to her hair.  The hair itself was all dyed a slightly darker shade of brown, to improve the appearance.

The fingernails were lengthened, shaped into square tips and painted with a translucent shade of pink, to create a champagne manicure.  It wouldn't help a lot with the typing, but the appearance was fabulous.  The toes were done in a bright red, that would show them off in open-toed pumps.

They had added one garment to the outfit that Susie was wearing, a waist cincher that had taken two inches off her waist.  Otherwise, everything else they'd done involved hair, nails, or cosmetics and scents.  But what they had done was to eliminate what little of Scott was left appearance-wise, and replace it with a lovely Susie.

* * * * *

Dinner was quick, and Susie did her best not to react to being referred to as "Miss" and when it was over, Linda drove them directly home.  There was a reason, and Susie found it out as soon she went upstairs in search of some of her male clothing.  All of her male clothes were gone.

"No, I didn't give them away.  They are locked up in a storage unit across town.  I had that taken care of while we were at the office today.  Now, I can't let you share my bed, since you're a paralegal and I supervise you, so I've moved your girl clothes into one of the guest bedrooms, along with all of the other things you're going to need."

"And what if I don't want to wear a skirt to work tomorrow?"

"You have a couple of dresses that might fit the dress code at our office, honey, if you prefer, but I know you're a suit-type girl through and through."

"What if I don't want to be a paralegal?"

"Fine.  I will initiate a divorce proceeding, then.  That's fine by me at this point.  Now don't get me wrong, that's not what I want.  I want to repair our relationship.  But you betrayed me, and I need to 'get even' as it were, and I won't have an affair to even the score.  That means I needed another way to get back at you, and I've found it.  You sleep on it and decide in the morning."

* * * * *

It came as no surprise to Linda that Scott was fully dressed and made up as Susie the following morning.  She hadn't left him much of a choice.  A divorce would have ruined his reputation among his fellow attorneys and made it close to impossible to get a good job.  He didn't really want to end his marriage, either.  He did love Linda very much, and wanted to get past his one mistake.  He just hated how he was having to pay for that mistake, particularly since he really hadn't wanted to be involved with Donna.

At work that day, he decided the best way to make Linda decide that he'd suffered enough was to throw himself...make that herself, as she came to this conclusion while rewriting a poorly written motion that she'd been given to proof, was to throw herself fully into the role, make friends, and make it seem as though he wasn't suffering.  If he looked unhappy, Linda might be tempted to prolong his agony as a she.  But if she appeared to be enjoying her new job and new role, things might work out differently, and she might become he much sooner than planned.

* * * * *

After a couple of days, Susie was the talk of the office.  Her work was better than that of any paralegal the firm had ever employed.  She caught errors that others wouldn't have seen, made suggestions that the lawyers loved, and in general was thought of as a hard worker and a team player.  More than one of the lawyers she worked with told her that she should go to law school.

She made friends with other paralegals and some of the legal secretaries, and soon found herself lunching with them, sharing gossip about the lawyers they worked for, and being accepted as "one of the girls".

The acid test came on the first Friday of the first full week of her employment.  Susie was invited to accompany several of "the girls" to a bar where they would usually go on Friday afternoons. 

The group of six dwindled down to four, and then three.  Susie, Cathy Roade and Tina Damon.  The three were kind of tipsy, and when a couple of men came over and offered to buy them drinks and asked them to dance, Cathy said, "Ladies, let's go powder our noses and then come back, and if these fine men are here, we can dance with them."

In the ladies room, the three women each headed for a stall.  For a brief moment, Susie toyed with the idea of peeing while standing up, which would have really shocked her coworkers.  But two things argued against it.  One was the fear of discovery.  The second was that it would have meant pulling down the latex garment that she wore full-time, giving her genitalia the appearance of femininity.  So, like the other two women in the stall, she sat down to do her business.

After she had finished peeing and wiping of her faux opening, she went to the mirror and like the other women, began repairing her makeup.  She had just finished relining her lips when Cathy whispered in her ear, "Honey, your secret is safe with me, but just how long have you been pretending to be a woman?"

Only years of courtroom training kept Susie from showing any surprise on her face.  "How did you know?" she whispered in reply.

"I'll tell you after Tina is gone.  I'm the only one who knows."

The trio of women left the restroom soon after, and after another three rounds of drinks and a few dances with the men, Tina went home, sufficiently aroused by the attentions of strange men to deal with her weekly tryst with her husband.  After she was gone, Cathy suggested, "Let's go someplace quieter, get some coffee, and you can tell me everything you are willing to share.  You don't have to say a word, I won't say anything to anyone."

* * * * *

The coffee shop they settled in at, in a back booth, was quiet, slow on business on this particular Friday night, and offered soft music via speakers, so that it would be impossible for anyone not sitting at an adjacent booth to overhear what Susie and Cathy were discussing.

"So, what's the deal, Susie?  Are you one of those people going through a sex change?"

In the car on the way over to this spot, Susie had tried to think of a good story to tell Cathy.  While she did believe that Cathy wouldn't say anything about her masquerade as a female, she couldn't trust her to not mention that Susie was really Linda's husband around the office.  That kind of gossip is just too juicy.  But how else could she explain what was going on?  "I'm still not sure if that's what's going to happen to me.  I'm exploring it, testing it out, so to speak."

"Oh, so you are in your RLT?"

"My what?"

"RLT.  I have a girlfriend whose husband had a sex change.  I had to help her deal with it, and RLT is what she called his 'Real Life Test'.  You know, having to live as a woman for two years before they will let you have the operation.  That is what you're doing, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah, I just never heard that term before is all.  But I'm very private about my life, so I don't mingle with other people like me."

"I understand totally.  Listen, you sure look like one of the girls, and if that's what you want to be, I'm sure you'll be as much like one as surgery can make you.  It's just a shame that you can't experience childbirth though, it is magical."

"I bet it is."

* * * * *

"So where were you?"  Linda was sitting in the dining room, eating some takeout Chinese food and watching a video movie on the nearby flat screen television.

"Went out after work with some of the girls."

"Oh, some of the girls?  Are you one of them now?"

"Yes, or so it seems.  Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Not exactly, but it will work for now.  And since you're enjoying yourself as one of them so much, you can spend the next six months as one.  Then, assuming that you haven't had another affair or anything else..."

"I see.  Six more months of skirts and hose and heels and pretending to be something I'm not, so that you can get appropriate payback for the fact that I slept with another woman all of three times.  Three times that I didn't want to, but she was after me and after me and while I should have been stronger and not given in, I did.  Six months and some time is my penance, is that it?"

"Yes.  You'll learn all about being female, as you become more and more one of the girls.  Then, after the six months is over, you can give two weeks notice and quit, and then we'll go to Hawaii for a two week vacation and when we return, we'll enter counseling and get Scott on track for finding a job."

"And how do I explain this long gap of not working?"

"Scott has a very successful wife.  He decided to take some time off and travel before returning to work."

"You've thought this all through, haven't you?"

"Yes, my little skirted husband.  Look at you, red skirt, red jacket, black blouse and pumps.  The perfect little working woman.  The hair, the nails, all of it.  Not even two weeks yet, and you fit the role so perfectly it would be a shame to release you any sooner.  So this is how you will remain for the next six months."

"You hold all the cards, dear."

* * * * *

Pretending to be something you aren't for a week or two is difficult.  Pretending to be something you aren't for months at a time is a truly difficult thing to do.  One major problem you have is that the line between what you are and what you are pretending to be can and often does become blurred. 

Susie had no time to think of herself as Scott as the weeks grew into months.  She spent 24 hours a day, seven days a week living as a female.  Linda insisted that Susie go on outings with her coworkers and to make friends outside of the office.  She also insisted that Susie join the local tennis club and play on weekends.  Scott had never been a good tennis player as a man, but as a woman, Susie quickly rose to the level of solid B player, and was often sought after for women's and mixed doubles matches on the weekends.

Spending so much time in the sun in short skirts and short-sleeved blouses would have resulted in some strange tan-lines, but Linda wasn't going to have that, either.  Susie spent the early morning hours on Saturday and Sunday in the yard, in a bikini.  A modest bikini as modern styles go, but still a bikini.  The tan lines that resulted were completely feminine in nature.

As the time for Susie's existence came close to an end, Linda began to suspect that something was wrong.  Was Susie having an affair again?  She hired a private detective to follow her, but nothing was discovered.  Still suspicious, Linda decided that she would surprise Susie and tell her that she was to spend an extra month as a woman and see how she reacted.

"Another month?  Why?"

"Because I said so.  Do you have a problem with it?"

"Not at all.  Is there anything else?  If not, I've got some work to finish before I can call it a night."

"Yes, of course, you paralegals don't have to work quite as hard as us lawyers do."

"Actually, we do, we just don't get paid enough to spend all hours of the day and night here because we're not trusted to think on that level."

"Oh, stop it.  You'll get to be a lawyer again soon enough, and I'll look forward to you fixing your tan lines in Hawaii on a private beach where we can sunbathe with nothing on."

What Linda hadn't told Susie was that she was horny herself, and tired of using the vibrator and her fingers to fulfill her needs.  She actually wanted her husband back now, provided of course he wasn't straying.  And if he was, she wanted to find someone else to fill his place in her bed.  But now it would wait for an extra month.

* * * * *

Susie, wearing a lovely dark gray skirt, white silk blouse and a black blazer with gold buttons, with dark hose and plain black pumps, walked into Linda's office.

"What do you mean, turning in a letter of resignation and giving two weeks notice?  We talked yesterday about another month."

"No, you demanded another month yesterday, and I pretended to agree, because I hadn't finished that letter and the rest of my plans."

"What plans?"

"Since you asked, let's start with this.  Cathy, can you come in here?"

Cathy, who was right outside the door waiting for that cue, strode in.  "Here you are, Ms Wright-Thomas.  Service of summons and complaint, request for dissolution of marriage, from your husband, Scott Wright.  Sign here to accept service."

"Why are you serving this?  You work here, for me, and as such you're not a disinterested party."  Linda took the papers angrily, and began to scan them.

"Actually, I don't work here anymore.  I quit effective immediately this morning.  I didn't give two weeks notice because I'm owed five weeks vacation pay that you would never let me use because we never had time for it, and because Mister Simmonds said I didn't need to give notice."

Simmonds was the senior partner, and if he'd given Cathy permission to quit without notice, there was nothing to be done.  "Here, I've signed them.  I'm sure you can return them to whatever lawyer Scott hired to represent him."

"All right, then," Cathy answered.  She took the papers and handed them to Susie.

"So you know that the cutie in the skirt is my husband?"

"Soon to be ex-husband, and my new employer."

"I didn't realize paralegals needed legal secretaries."

"They don't.  But lawyers do."

"She's not a lawyer, although he is when he's himself and not pretending to be something he's not."

"Pretending because you forced me to.  Pretending because you blackmailed me to by threats of divorce."

"You can't prove a thing."

"Can't I?  I have your cute little note from the night I got my nails and hair done, along with depositions from the salon employees you hired to do my transformation.  I've also got a tape recording of my last conversation with you, about that extra month, as well.  Plenty of proof to show that you're responsible for forcing me to do this.  Imagine what your partners will say when I show them what you've used your firm to do, when I file suit for intentional infliction of emotional distress against you, them and the firm."

Linda realized that she could be in big trouble if Scott pursued a claim like that, and Susie saw it on her face.  "All right, Miss Susie, what do you want in return for dropping this claim?"

"Good.  I'm glad you see things my way.  Number one, I want all of our joint investments liquidated, and I want half of that cash.  Number two, I want that portion of your half of the cash that represents my half of the equity in our home and other property.  Number three, I want you to pay me six thousand dollars a month in temporary support for the twenty-four months after our petition to dissolve the marriage is granted.  I have new employment as an attorney, but since I'll still be just an associate and you'll still be a partner, it's the only way to come close to compensating me for the loss of lifestyle I'll be undergoing.  Besides, I think that I'm getting rewarded well enough to keep it down to six thousand a month."

"How are you being rewarded?  I still don't get all of this.  You're leaving me and divorcing me I can understand.  I dragged this punishment thing out too long and too far, and I shouldn't have and I'm sorry.  Can't we work things out?"

"Not that I can see.  A few days, a week, and that would have been fair.  Maybe even two weeks, and then laughing it off as a joke.  But six months was too cruel, and I don't want to be married to someone who is that cruel.  My reward is that I have a whole new life ahead of me.  I will be allowed to change my name legally in eighteen more months, and the bar will let me go ahead and practice law with this name and with my own license, as long as I am in the pre-op stage of my transition."

"Transition?  What the hell are you talking about?"

"At some point during the time of pretending to be a woman, I realized that's really how I should be living my life.  That what had come before was just a lie.  So I went to a psychiatrist, began therapy, and I'm now in the middle of my two-year Real Life Test before I can have the operation.  I began hormone therapy last week, and by the time all is said and done, I'll be a woman."

"What kind of law firm hired a man hiding in a skirt?"

"I'm not a man, so don't insult me by calling me one.  I don't have the right plumbing yet, but I'm living as a woman.  As to what firm hired me, well, let's just say that I'll be working for a women's rights firm."

"You're going to work for Greene and Tolbert?"

"Yep.  Greene, Tolbert, Rivers and Nadel actually, and if all goes well, when I have my operation, my name will be added to the partnership roster there.  Cathy is going with me as my personal assistant."

"Scott, stop this now, before it's too late."

"Linda, honey, it was too late five months ago, we just didn't know it then.  I'll send someone for my things."

EPILOGUE

Three years later, lawyers from the law firm of Greene, Tolbert, Rivers, Nadel and Wright were in court, arguing a case concerning a new law that gave members of the same gender the right to marry.  While Susie Wright, as party to the case being heard wasn't able to argue her case, her partner in the firm, Gail Tolbert, was more than adequate to the task.  The judge ruled in favor of Susie Wright and granted her petition to marry her partner, Cathy Roade.

While lawyers for right-wing organizations and the state itself vowed to fight the judge's decision, for now it was a major victory for Susie, her firm and her former secretary, now spouse.

Curiously, one of the briefs that had been filed with the court came from Linda Wright-Thomas.  Arguing in favor of Susie Wright's petition, Linda had written:

"The compelling interest here is in the equitable treatment of all under the law.  While we are told by those who argue that only members of the opposite sex should be allowed to marry, that allowing same-sex unions will devalue the state of marriage itself and bring harm to us all, in fact the exact opposite is true.  Affording all the protections and rights of marriage to all, and not just those who are members of heterosexual unions seems to be the only way of protecting the welfare of all.  It was Cicero who said, "The Welfare of the People is the Highest Law," and it seems fitting to recall that passage in realizing that we can no longer legislate out of existence that which some find immoral.  Instead, we must practice inclusion and practice that fine ideal that Cicero left for us."

THE END

 

OOTDs

unlikely pledge

 

 The decision to not go to college back when I was just getting out of high school was easy. The money to pay for college wasn’t available at the time. My father had left my mother and I when I was just four years of age and in spite of Mom’s best efforts our existence had never been more than lower middle class. She’d had to work more than one job almost my entire life in order to make ends meet and there just wasn’t any money for me to head off for four more years of school. Worse yet, my grades in high school were less than stellar and as a result there were no financial aid or scholarship funds out there to aid in any effort I might have made to seek out higher education.

So right after graduation I sought employment and found work in various low-paying jobs at which I gave my all. 17 years later I was still slaving away in the working world, earning a bit more thanks to some skills I’d acquired through hard work, but the long-term outlook had not been one involving anything other than continued long hours for relatively low rewards.

That was until that fateful Friday when I bought some lottery tickets, something I would not normally do. The gigantic jackpot in excess of 150 million dollars had been the reason I was willing to risk a few of my hard-earned dollars but even then I would not spend much or engage much hope in winning any kind of large prize. I happened to get home in time for the drawing and sat there in amazement as the numbers from the top line of my ticket were read off one after another.

It would make this into a better story if I could relate having fainted or broken into tears as the final number was read and it became clear that even if I had to split this jackpot with others I was still going to be rich beyond my wildest dreams. When it turned out that I held the only winning ticket, it just got better. But the truth is that I did not have any great, extraordinary reaction to winning this prize. After all, it was less than a year since I’d had to bury my hard-working mother and there just wasn’t anyone for me to share this amazing good fortune. The cancer that had ravaged my mother had taken some time to work its horrible cruelty on her body and mind and we had suffered together during her final months. I could probably spend some of this new money on locating the man who had donated the other half of the genetic material that went into my makeup but I had no desire to share this newfound wealth with someone who had abandoned my mother and me when I was just a child.

* * * * *

So once I got the great big check, I put the more than 80 million dollars into the hands of a highly recommended investment advisor, keeping a few million in banks so it would be available for easy use/access. I bought a home in a suburban neighborhood and of course, quit my job. Why work when there was more money than I could ever spend just waiting for me at the local bank?

It was my next door neighbor’s son returning home for the winter holiday break from his college on the other side of the country that gave me the idea that I could now do what I had wanted to do so many years earlier. I could go to school and get a decent education, perhaps in finance in order to help manage my large fortune. Also, I might better understand the words my investment advisor threw around when discussing his plans to turn my money into more money, although my only real goal was to have the bulk of the money earn enough to live on for the rest of my life, even if it meant spending some of the actual funds from the big prize.

So I started checking out colleges and by the following fall I was enrolled at a large university in another state. I had a full schedule of classes, an apartment in a nice building near the campus and marveled at the beauty of the young co-eds that were everywhere on campus. I’d never had much success with the opposite sex and now I was surrounded by women that were clearly unavailable to me. I was an old man compared to the guys who were competing for these beautiful girls. I wasn’t going to flash my wealth in order to get a girl interested in me, since that kind of relationship would never be sustained by real feelings.

That meant all I had were my studies and whatever other interests I managed to find to occupy my time. So I studied, did my homework and spent a few hours a week volunteering at a local home for senior citizens. It was my way of giving back to the community that had made me wealthy without just writing checks. Giving my time was more valuable to those older people than any money I might have donated. It was seeing their faces light up when I shared my time with them that made it worthwhile.

* * * * *

It was just after the winter break during my first year in college that I encountered Nancy Sullivan in the student cafeteria. It was long after the lunch rush had crowded the cafeteria and there were only a few students there along with me, studying or eating a late meal. I was doing both. Nancy was working on something in a corner table but I caught her looking at me a few times. Finally she came over.

“You’re Brad Thomas, right?”

“Yes. We have a history course together, which I was surprised to see you in, since it is a freshman section and I know you’re a junior.”

“Yeah, I skipped taking it my freshman year and now I’m stuck taking it at a time when I’d rather be focused on my core courses for my major. It isn’t my best subject and actually I could use a little help from you. You seem to know everything during the discussions in class.”

“I’d be happy to help. How do you want to work this?”

* * * * *

Thanks to that little encounter, I started spending two hours a week with Nancy, in the same cafeteria at the same table.

I tutored her a little in the history course we were both taking but most of the time we would discuss what was going on in our lives at college. She talked a lot about her sorority, Kappa Delta and the activities of the girls. She said that they had taken in a nice group of girls in the fall rush this year and she was looking forward to next year’s rush already since she would be a senior and was in the running to be the rush chairperson.

I told her about my other classes, my volunteer work at the senior’s home and how I sometimes got bored and felt overwhelmed by the college experience because so much of it wasn’t really available to me thanks to my age. I had missed out on a lot of what the younger set did at my school, particularly the drinking and partying. I was older, had “sowed my wild oats” and that was the precise reason I had not looked into the fraternity life. I’d seen the movies, I knew that frat houses were filled with drunken parties, carousing and lots of casual sex. The last two were just not part of who I had become in my life, particularly since I now had to worry that someone might be trying to get closer to me because of my bank balance rather than who I was.

Then a few weeks into our tutoring meetings, Nancy said something that struck me as kind of strange. She said “You know, aside from the fact you aren’t a girl, you’d be a perfect pledge for rush next fall for my sorority. You have high grades, you’re fun to talk to and you believe in community service. I almost wish you were a girl so I could recruit you.”

Aside from the fact that it made it very clear to me that any secret false hopes I might have had about someday being romantically involved with Nancy were totally doomed, her statement made me wonder just what was going on in her devious mind when that comment popped out. I wasn’t going to suddenly sprout breasts and undergo a spontaneous sex change in the school cafeteria, nor was I a candidate to fly off to Sweden or Switzerland or wherever people who want sex change surgery fly off to.

Then I watched some silly movie in my apartment one evening where a group of guys were expelled from their frat and they had to pretend to be girls and to pledge a sorority filled with the ugliest girls on campus. Except that they were merely girls who weren’t putting any effort into their appearance and at some point the guys involved changed that and suddenly the real girls in this “loser” sorority were gorgeous, popular and the guys had learned that who you were and what you stood for were more important than chugging beers.

So I decided to ask Nancy if there was some way I could visit her sorority in whatever areas of the house were public, to get a better appreciation for what they did. I told her that what had prompted my request was because they had impressed me with their commitment to service and I was thinking about making a small donation to their next fundraising drive.

She agreed and the following Saturday, during daytime hours invited me to come over and take a tour of the public areas. I arrived on time and was amazed at how beautiful the house, the girls and the furnishings were. It was like taking a tour of a palace. Of course I promised a check for their next fundraiser and told Nancy that she was right, it was a shame I wasn’t a girl or I would be rushing her sorority that fall. She looked quizzically at me for a moment and then smiled and told me that within the house I should be careful, that was the kind of wish if whispered too loudly, might be granted.

* * * * *

Hard work pays off and in the long run what you put into something will directly impact what you end up getting out of it. I gave my schoolwork my total effort that fall and spring and the result was report cards with straight A’s on them. Nancy got A’s in the history class we shared both semesters and was very, very happy. In fact, right after school let out in June she gave me a thank you card. Inside was a handwritten invitation to become an honorary KD girl and an invitation to dinner in the house in a couple of weeks when most of the girls would be gone for the summer.

How could I refuse? That is how I wound up sitting at the big dining room table in the sorority house, all alone with Nancy. I was wearing a nice suit and tie and she was wearing a pretty, white dress. After dinner she told me to be very quiet and led me upstairs to her private room.

Inside her room she had me get undressed and I began to get a little nervous. She told me to relax, that we were just going to have a little fun with some make-up and a wig. “My next door neighbor has a sister who is about your size and I borrowed a white dress from her that should fit you. I’m going to doll you up with makeup and a wig and then give you your honorary initiation into the sorority. It’s my way of thanking you for helping me with my grades, but don’t tell anyone. I’m going to break a rule by sneaking you into the initiation chamber room.”

* * * * *

But before she would sneak me into that secret room within the “house”, she insisted that we do as much as possible to make me look the part of an initiate. When I balked slightly at the idea of removing my body hair, Nancy pouted for a moment and any resistance I might have mounted against what she had planned that night melted at the site of her tears.

So once we were in her private bathroom and she told me to strip, I meekly complied. Soon I was as naked as I’d been on the day I’d been born and she spent the next few minutes slathering some kind of lotion all over my body.

The lotion turned out to be a hair remover and she had me stand there for nearly fifteen minutes while it did its work. It also itched like crazy and I was very happy to get into the shower at her direction when the requisite time had passed. However, as I watched all of my body hair sliding off of my skin as the warm shower water washed over me, I was struck by a different sensation. It was fear.

That passed as the warm waters washed over my now very soft and smooth skin. Nancy handed me a bottle of something and instructed me to use it to wash as much of my body as I could reach. As I did, whatever she’d handed me this time was making the skin softer and smoother.

After I was done in the shower and she’d dried me off with some towels, Nancy handed me a great big pink robe in plush cotton and told me to put it on. Of course I did. Then she led me to her vanity and made me sit down facing away from the mirror. “I don’t want you to see the product until I’m all finished making you into a beautiful KD sister.

A creamy foundation was rubbed onto my face and she dabbed, rubbed and smoothed it out until it felt like the skin on my face was firm and taut. If I could have seen it at that moment I would have probably gotten even more nervous, given my new “peaches and cream” complexion.

Of course, Nancy wasn’t nearly satisfied or finished with what she’d done thus far. She added blush to what she described as the “apples of my cheekbones”, highlighting this area with a healthy, pinkish glow. Then she added color to my lips, first outlining them with a pencil, then brushing on a color and waiting for it to dry. Once it was completely smooth and dry, she brushed some shiny gloss on top of the color. “The gloss really makes that stain shine, although thanks to this new lip stain, the color won’t come off until I take it off.”

As she fitted the long, blonde wig to my head and began pinning it in place with what seemed like dozens of bobby pins, she looked at my strangely. “Brad, you’re going to think this strange, but did you lose some weight during this semester at school? You look smaller now than I’ve ever noticed”

I shrugged my shoulders and it was then I noticed that the big pink robe was no longer fitting so tightly. In fact I was practically swimming in it. I had no idea what was going on and I was in for more strange happenings after Nancy was finished with my makeup and wig, and she wanted to dress me in the clothes she’d arranged to fit me.

The problem was that they were now too big. The bra wasn’t tight against my chest and in fact, just looked too big as Nancy first started to fasten it and then tossed it aside. “We’ll try one of mine” she said and walked over to her dresser drawer. She pulled out one of her own sets of panty and bra and brought it over to me and helped me into both of the silky items.

Then things got really strange. We both watched in amazement as slowly but steadily my chest expanded to fill her bra with pretty, perky breasts. As that went on, she led me to a mirror so I could get a better view of the changes as they happened.

My waist narrowed. My new breasts grew as did the hair of the wig on my head. Before it had fallen just down to the shoulders and now it was down to the middle of my back. Worse yet, as I tugged at it, it felt like my own hair and neither Nancy nor I could find any of the pins she’d used earlier to pin it.

The final changes were some general softening of my shape into a more curvy form as the bulge that had been present in the pair of Nancy’s panties I was wearing slowly disappeared. It was as though my manhood had chosen to abandon me, riding off into the sunset as a newfound femininity took over.

I went over to where my slacks had been before all of this had started and discovered that my clothes were gone and in their place was a lovely Kate Spade purse. Inside was a lovely wallet that contained a driver’s license with a photo of how I looked now, the name Brandi Thomas and a great big F under the sex category. It was no longer my own date of birth, I’d gone from middle aged to the tender age of nineteen.

I wanted to rip off the clothes and makeup, but something prevented me from doing so. When I started, a voice came out of nowhere, a deep but clearly female voice that said “This is what happens to those who conspire to share our secret rituals and information with men. Those men who wish to enter our hallowed halls are made acceptable by the sorority by changing them into young ladies so they are suitable for initiation. Dress the initiate and you will find that the sisters are gathered in the Hall of Initiation to make her a full-fledged member of our sisterhood.”

The reason Nancy had worn a white dress and heels was now apparent and it was into her own closet she went to withdraw another white dress and another pair of heels. Soon I was properly attired for an initiation ceremony, which was going to make me a sister of this sorority and apparently there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I know because I tried. As we walked out of Nancy’s room, our high heels clicking loudly on the wood floors of the hallway, I tried heading for the exit. I quickly discovered that there was no way I could escape. I found myself unable to walk in any direction but towards the Hall of Initiation. Worse yet, the sensation of my silk dress rubbing against the suntan pantyhose that Nancy had insisted I wear was a constant reminder of my transformed status, a man who had somehow wandered into somewhere and something he probably should have stayed away from in order to save that manhood.

* * * * *

As much as I wish I could describe the events of that evening and the rest of the initiation ritual that I went through, I cannot. As an initiated sister of the Kappa Delta sorority I am sworn to secrecy concerning such things. And since I did go through the entire initiation process, I am an initiated sister of KD.

But there is much more to the story. I spent a weekend and then a week living as a member of the sorority. I was accepted as just another girl and sister the entire time and it was an amazing experience.

Then I went to bed one night and woke up in my old apartment, returned to my normal self. There was a note from Nancy.

“Brad,

I had no idea of the risks I was taking when I tried sneaking you into the sorority or what would happen. I was finally able to convince the powers that be, the alumni who were responsible for what happened to you that you were a good person and should be returned back to your life. I was punished, but that’s not important. What is important is that you are no longer something you weren’t supposed to be and I’m grateful for that.

While I will undoubtedly see you around the campus, now that you are back to normal, I am supposed to avoid any unnecessary contact. So if I seem to avoid you, it isn’t because I am being rude or no longer think of you as a friend. I am doing what I have to do in order for you to keep your old life and for me to avoid any further punishments.

Be Well,

Nancy

P.S. While you are now back to your old self, there is a part of you that is an initiated sister of Kappa Delta. You must not tell anyone about our secret rituals or divulge any other secrets of the sorority or it will be you who is punished and the alumni are watching you closely.”

It was great to be back to normal but there was just one problem. I had enjoyed being nineteen again. I had actually enjoyed being a pretty girl. I wouldn’t have admitted it to a single living soul, but there were many attractive facets of the life I had lived for one of the best weeks of my life. Worse yet, I’d been told that I would no longer have access to that life or the sisters who had been my new, closest friends.

As time passed I tried losing myself in my studies but there was a feeling of emptiness inside of me that I couldn’t get rid of. At first I tried some simple cross-dressing in my apartment’s privacy. I couldn’t quite get the look right of course, as my figure didn’t have the curves, narrow waist or flat tummy that Brandi had possessed. Worse yet, my skill at applying makeup had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and my best attempts in my apartment were quite clown-like in appearance.

I tried adding high heels, but aside from the fact they were gigantic for my big feet, they just didn’t look right. I was currently my lifelong height of five foot eleven, while as Brandi I’d been a very cute five foot five, reaching up four inches higher when I had my highest heels on.

I then tried taking part in on-line chats pretending to be female, using a false name and email address. I had learned enough in my week as Brandi to successfully impersonate a female. The conversations were a bit more fulfilling but still left that big emptiness in my soul.

Finally I gave in and called Nancy’s cell when I knew she wouldn’t be in the sorority house. She agreed to meet me in our old spot in the cafeteria to talk, but only for a few minutes.

* * * * *

She was waiting when I arrived and it was apparent she wasn’t too pleased by my request or presence. “Nancy, I’m sorry that I had to ignore your request to avoid you but I really, really need to talk to you.”

“About what, Brad? What is so darn important that you had to risk my future in the sisterhood on this meeting? I just don’t understand what could possibly be so important.”

“I’ll try to explain but if you would rather just go now I would understand. It is just that I’ve been so miserable ever since that magical night that I learned so much about you and your sisterhood.”

“How can you have been miserable? Your life is back to what it was. You weren’t forced to continue as a member once the alumni felt you had paid penance.”

“I’ve been miserable because for the first time in my life I felt “free” as Brandi. It was an amazing experience and I have felt tortured ever since. Being Brandi was fun, exciting, a whole new way of life for me. I miss it terribly. I’ve tried to find ways to fill the void, dressing up in women’s clothing, pretending to be a woman in on-line chat rooms but those things make me feel worse, not better. I miss being Brandi.”

“Oh my God, I had no idea. I wonder if…”

Her voice trailed off and I asked “Wonder if what?”

“I wonder if the alumni know what you are feeling and if your real punishment is being forced to live this life that you no longer enjoy. It would fit into their view of justice, especially since they think you’re more to blame for what happened than I am.”

“I was curious, but I didn’t want to violate any trusts or break any rules. I just wanted to know more.”

“You learned more too, didn’t you? You learned more than you needed or wanted to know.”

“All I know now is that I wish I could go back to that night and promise that I would do everything in my power to be a good sister and keep things as they were that night, forever.”

“I will talk to my alum advisor and see what she says. Meanwhile, just go on doing as you’ve been doing, except cut out the pretend stuff. It isn’t a good idea to pretend to be something you’re not.”

“True, but at the moment there is a part of me that’s pretending to be Brad, knowing that this portion is really a 19 year old girl named Brandi. That’s the pretending I’m doing now and I hate it with a passion.”

“Do your best to put on a happy face and you’ll get through this. I know that it is difficult for you now, but you have to hold on until we can figure out how to solve this problem.”

With that she stood, kissed me on the cheek and walked away.

* * * * *

The online pretending stopped that night but the dressing was something I just felt needed to continue. I wouldn’t step outside of my apartment at all while in “femme” but continued to try to perfect my ability to dress up and make up.

I don’t know if it was a good thing that I didn’t improve all that much. Oh, I looked more like a real girl and less like a clown when it came to makeup, as time passed. I even managed to lose a little weight so I wasn’t quite so oversized compared to how I had looked as the real Brandi. However, whenever I was fully dressed and made up as a girl and I looked at myself in a mirror all I could think about was how pretty and perfect I had been and how I wished to once again be that girl. All girl. Sorority sister and who knows, someday a frat’s sweetheart girl.

One night I even dreamt about being Brandi in a scenario that seemed almost too real. I was with my sisters at a party and suddenly I began to feel ill. Cramps hit me and they were the worst I’d ever known. What was this malady that struck like lightning and made me want to curl up in a ball and just lay in bed until it had passed? I went to use the ladies room and discovered the truth all by my self. It was my first period and boy was it a painful mess. I had awakened from that dream a sweaty mess, with pains in my own midsection.

* * * * *

That was the last time I dreamt of being Brandi. My dressing up began to occur less frequently and finally stopped altogether. I neither heard from or saw Nancy for the rest of the semester or during that summer break. I was on vacation in July when something happened to change my approach to missing this new life that I still wanted very badly although I no longer dreamt about it.

I was walking in a park when I happened to pass a boy playing catch with his father. Not that unusual a scene until the boy dropped one of his father’s tosses. The boy was upset and the father rushed over to comfort his young son. “Don’t worry about dropping one” he said. “What is important is that you try your best and if there is something you see that you want you go for it and do everything and anything you can to achieve your goals or desires. You have to try your best, even if you fail. I promise if you just keep trying, you’ll not only catch the ball, but those few times you drop it won’t stop you from being a happy person.”

Right then and there I decided that if I missed that other life that much then I needed to grab the bull by the horns, or in this case, the girl by whatever didn’t cause pain to use as a lever. That night, on my laptop in my hotel room, I went to the university’s “Greek” website and registered for sorority rush for the fall. Then I emailed Nancy and told her that not only had I signed up for sorority rush, but her sorority was the only one I was interested in rushing, although because of the way the process works, I couldn’t make a firm decision about anything. I would have to be exposed to all of the sororities seeking new sisters.

I got an email back from my registration and it contained all of the info about sorority rush, including the schedule of rush week, a list of suggested attire from the various events and a note of welcome to the Greek world. I also got another from the dean who oversaw the Greek community at my university, advising me to see her before registration for classes.

Abigail Donna Garritson-Myers was the Dean of something or other (actually she was Dean of Student Activities but I’d forgotten that when I was ushered into her office by her attractive administrative assistant. She stood up from behind her desk and offered me her hand. Her handshake was firm, strong and yet still feminine.

“Shall I call you Brad, or would you prefer Brandi?” I managed not to faint, but I must have blushed. I’ll never know. “I know all about you, I am one of your sisters although I am obviously an alumni member. I was involved with what you did that night in the house, what happened to you afterwards and the punishment that Nancy received. Go on, sit down, we have more to discuss.”

So I sat down and she continued. “We were certain that you were to blame for the trespass you committed in our house but as time went on and you avoided Nancy and the house we began to suspect otherwise. Finally Nancy confessed, even though it could have meant her expulsion from the sisterhood. She may still be expelled, but we are feeling much more merciful about this event than we were originally since it is clear now that it wasn’t a male led effort to expose the secrets of the sorority.” She paused for a moment as I tried not to squirm in my seat. “The question now is what do we do with you? Clearly you miss being a part of us and since you were a sister, however you came to be part of the group, I have a duty to you to aid you in your time of pain. But at the same time I can’t completely ignore the fact that you came to be part of our group through improper means”

“So what are you going to do with me? I signed up for rush in an attempt to get back into KD.”

“And so you did. While as Brad you’d be laughed out of rush, since I’m going to arrange it so you become Brandi from tomorrow morning until rush is complete. But once this is done, Brandi you will be, even if no sorority offers you a bid. Are you prepared to gamble your desired femininity that a sorority will take you in?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Temporarily, you will be removed from the roll of initiated sisters of KD. You will be a true pledge during rush and you will have to earn a bid. If you earn a bid from KD, you will be re-initiated. However, if KD does not offer you a bid and another sorority does, you will have to accept that bid and become a sister of that group. Once that happens, you will remain Brandi forever. On the other hand, if no sorority takes you in, you will merely remain Brandi until the following year, when you can go back to being Brad, or try rush again. However, be warned. If you finish school as Brandi, without joining any sorority, the day after you graduate you will revert to being Brad, forever.” With that, she handed me a guide to sorority rush week and before I could open it I felt something like a cold wind blowing all over me. When it was finished blowing, I was once again Brandi.

“This time the change extends to everything and everyone except Nancy. She is available to assist you during the time from now through the end of rush week. The best advice I can give you is to be yourself throughout the process. The best you that you can be. Do not try to be something you aren’t and I will see you in three weeks.”

* * * * *

Two weeks of registration and classes as Brandi flew by, as did the incredibly busy week known as “Rush”. On Bid night I sat in my apartment, wondering what was going to happen. Then a messenger came by. I received bids from four sororities, but not one from KD. I was crushed. Yes, I was Brandi, and I could remain so forever, but to pledge another sorority meant I would be excluded from the sisterhood I had shared with Nancy forever as well. I called Nancy and she came over.

“Nancy, I have to make an awful choice. I have to pledge a sorority that isn’t KD and I will remain Brandi forever. I don’t want to be in any of these sororities, I want to be a sister of KD. It is where I belong.”

“We know. That’s why your bid to KD had to be hand-delivered, by your big sister. Me. Do you think we would really let you join some other sisterhood when you were already part of ours? This was just a little test to make sure you truly wanted to re-join us. Since you do, grab your purse and come with me, we just have enough time to get you over to the house for a real initiation.”

I felt something washing over me again and whatever it was, the memories of being Brad suddenly faded into the back of my mind. As I grabbed my purse and my coat I knew that from this moment on, Brad no longer existed. Only Brandi remained and she was very happy at this turn of events. As she walked smoothly on her heels toward the door and into the future as a properly initiated member of her chosen sorority, the rightness of this decision was plain to see on her face.

EPILOGUE: Three years later, the most popular sister in the KD House was elected president of the sorority for the upcoming fall. Brandi Thomas was almost a unanimous choice as everyone felt she would be a wonderful president. No one was prouder of her than Nancy, her big sister when she’d first joined the sisterhood.