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"Please honey, you know it will make me and my mother both very happy. She needs someone to help her and you are the perfect choice." "I know she needs someone to help, but I always get the feeling she doesn't approve of me. Like she thinks you could have done better for a husband." "Oh that's silly. She likes you and knows I love you. That is why we got married. Besides, it was her idea for the care-giver to be a family member during the surgery recovery. You are perfect for it. First, she knows you and she wouldn't be embarrassed by you seeing her in a helpless condition. Second, you do all of our household chores and are an excellent cook, thus you can provide for her since she won't be able to do those things for a few weeks and would feel uncomfortable with her usual maid service. Third, you know I'm scheduled to go to the Middle East for two months as my company's representative, so you will be alone. She can set up the surgery while I'm gone so it won't impact our time together either. Finally, you work from home so you can continue your work from her house as easily as ours. So, please say yes? It would mean everything to mother and me." Ever since Nadia told me her mother, Isabella, was going to need some minor surgery, I had a foreboding feeling that I was going to be asked to take care of her. My mother-in-law and I got along okay, but I always had this uncomfortable feeling when I was near her. She projected a grandness and aloof attitude that made me feel like I was a second class citizen. She spoke with an Italian accent that that complimented her exotic style. It didn't help that her husband, Nadia's dad, was a member of the Jordan Royal family, a real prince. Isabella had met and married him in Rome her birth place and fit easily into the affluent life style. However since his death, she had left the Mediterranean to raise Nadia in America while her two older sons stayed with her husband's brother in Jordan. Nadia had been given the best her whole life, including a top notch education at Princeton. She was well trained in both engineering and business and had become highly successful in the oil business. She was a perfect representative for her company in its business with the Middle Eastern countries, since she had the education, was fluent in Arabic, and her older brothers worked with the Jordan government. It always amazed me that she had noticed me and then was attracted to me in business graduate school. I was bright enough but not driven like her, nor was I as physically attractive as her. She was dark haired with riveting blue eyes, her skin a constant golden brown color, and her body shaped like a classic Italian sculpture with broad hips and a full bust. I was floored when I first saw her but somehow managed to get on her study team and we became good friends. When she pressed for our relationship to change from platonic to romantic, I was stunned, overjoyed, but still stunned; every day since I had considered myself to be the luckiest man alive. Not that I didn't think I had some good points. I always considered myself to be attractive, with a strong Irish heritage. I had fine facial features featuring a small straight nose, full lips, and green eyes. Matched with pale skin dusted by light freckles and light red wavy hair that I wore longer than most men, I had a certain unique style. But I wasn't big, being only 5'7" and trim, as I made it a habitat to swim laps almost every morning. There were other guys, taller, more muscular, and more outgoing that talked with her or asked her out. But she wanted me and it made me willing to do whatever I needed to make her happy. That's how we wound up in our current situation. She went for a demanding, high-paying job with lots of traveling and wanted me to focus more on keeping our home together. By concentrating on her work, she could maximize her potential. I was just as happy being a low pressure, online business consultant for small innovative firms. I worked just enough to keep busy, a part-time role that fit well with my house husband status. So as with everything else, I agreed to take care of Isabella while she was gone on business. Nadia was pleased, and we had a long full evening of sex as a reward for my decision. I had always focused on pleasing her with my oral skills, as my penis was not quite average in size. So after giving her the usual three orgasms with my tongue and lips, she rolled me over and slid her wet pussy over my hard cock. She liked being astride me when we fucked and she did a great job of controlling our actions. To be honest, she never really came that way but she did enjoy it and loved to see me squirm below her before I came; as always, we cuddled tightly afterwards before falling asleep. The next day I went to see Isabella about her plans. She laid them out with a minimum of detail. After Nadia left for the Middle East, I was to move in with her. I could stay in her daughter's old room and use my laptop to do my work. I would do all the household chores and cooking for two weeks prior to the surgery. That would give us time to adjust to each other before the operation. After she recovered if necessary in the hospital, she would come home where I could be her nurse and continue my domestic responsibilities until she was back on her feet. The entire time Isabella discussed my role, she had a slight grin almost a smirk on her face. She made it a point to emphasize that my duties would be to cover for her maid service, whose random assigned workers she didn't feel comfortable with while she recovered. I realized that Isabella knew I did all the household work for Nadia and me, but the way she described it she reduced me to domestic servant more than a family member. She made it clear that she didn't quite understand why a man would want to do such menial tasks, but if I was content to be the domestic in my marriage then she would be happy to utilize my weakness. It didn't help matters that Isabella was as strikingly beautiful as her daughter and only 20 years older. She had all the sexual attractiveness she possessed when she was younger, but with the air and authority of an older woman. I could tell the next couple of months would be trying for me, but resigned myself to making it through this test. It was finally time to begin; I kissed Nadia an emotional good-bye at the airport gate before she left on her flight. I had packed a small bag with what I needed for a week's stay with Isabella. We only lived 20 miles away, so I knew I could bring more over when I needed it. Knocking on my mother-in-law's door, I felt like I was beginning a test of my patience and ability to withstand what I expected to be a humiliating situation. As she opened the door, Isabella smiled and let out a small chuckle. "Come on in Brandon, I am so happy you could help me in my time of need. It's not many mothers-in-law that have a son-in-law that could serve them as a nurse and maid. Nadia has always been so complimentary of your household skills; I know I will be pleased as well. You can stay in her room. I moved some of her old things to make it more suitable for you. Also, I felt guilty asking you to do my household chores and the last thing I want is you to ruin any of your clothes waiting on me. So I asked Nadia for your sizes and bought you some clothes to wear while you take care of me, nothing extreme, just some simple black pants and white shirts. They're hanging in the closet; I assume you do have some black shoes that will match. But there is one request that I have to make before we start. I admit I feel awkward having you around me in what will be some close and sometimes intimate situations. As a man, I know you have certain uncontrollable reactions when near a pretty, sexy woman. I've seen that reaction from you before; I think you know what I am referring to." I immediately began to blush; I did know what she was talking about. The first time I came to visit Nadia at her home, we were to swim together in her mom's pool. I had changed and went outside while Nadia finished dressing. Isabella was already in the pool and was wearing a very small bikini that featured a lot of cleavage. As she exited the pool, the wet fabric of her swimsuit clung to her curves and her nipples and labia were obvious through the thin material of her suit. The whole scene overwhelmed my senses and was very erotic; my natural reaction was an erection. Unfortunately Isabella noted the tent in my swimsuit before I could cover up and it caused us both a few uncomfortable moments before I could dive in the pool to cool off my urges. Although she never directly referred to it, my reaction had always made me a bit differential around her, particularly when we were alone. Now the embarrassment I felt that day was again sweeping over me. Isabella after a short pause continued her introductory speech. "Well to avoid such a, I'll just say a prominent, problem I would prefer if you would wear something that would prevent you from displaying your male lust for me. I put a couple pairs of elastic shaping underwear in the top drawer of the dresser. If you wear that under the uniform I bought for you, then I won't have any embarrassing surprises poking out at me. If you really want to be sure that you don't get out of line, then tucking your offending member back between your legs would also be a smart idea. I need to feel like I can relax around you, without being surprised, as we will likely be in some close quarters. Do you have a problem with that? If not, why don't you go to your new room and get changed." My face was flushing red and I began to shake my head in agreement with her plan. I softly replied that it sounded like a reasonable idea. To avoid any further embarrassment I made a bee line to my new room. I could immediately tell it had been Nadia's bedroom. It was decorated in pastel colors, primarily pink, with lots of floral and lace details. The bed was a canopy style, and the furniture included a mirrored vanity and a tall lingerie chest. I began to put away my things and set my laptop on the vanity. I saw the clothes Isabella had bought for me in the closet and I looked around till I found the underwear she had mentioned in the top drawer of the lingerie chest. Slipping off my clothes, I pulled one of them onto my legs. The material was clingy, but not overly tight, in a plain black fabric. They looked much like a pair of biking shorts, with legs that went down my thighs, a high waist, and a back seam that separated my cheeks. As I pulled them on, I remembered her request, and positioned my cock back between my legs. As I adjusted them, the fabric pressed upward and my balls retreated into my body. It felt odd but not uncomfortable. The pants were next. They were shiny, stretchy material with a narrow leg profile, no pockets, and sat higher on my waist than my regular pants while at the same time only going down my leg to mid-calf. Again they fit tightly, but the stretch material gave them some flexibility. The shirt was an oxford- style made from a soft material with pearled buttons and a short square hem, obviously made to be worn outside the pants. The sleeves were a bit short for me, and it buttoned opposite from what I was used to. Looking over the styles, it was apparent that both pants and shirt were women's clothes. Knowing that the shaper was a woman's as well, made me blush and quietly curse my situation. I had been at her home less than 20 minutes and already Isabella had made me feel less of man than I had in years. And of course, I had brought neither a pair of black shoes or socks, as I normally wore sneakers and athletic socks. Not knowing what else to do, I put on the sneakers and went out to the living room. Looking at me, Isabella seemed generally pleased, but told me my shoes would not do. Asking my size, she smiled when I told her I wore a man's seven and told me I was lucky to have such small delicate feet. She could loan me a pair of her shoes, a ballet flat with intricate silver embroidery across the vamp. Returning from her bedroom she carried the shoes and pair of sheer black trouser socks. She watched as I changed into them. Satisfied with my appearance, we began to tour her home and she described what she needed done, how often, and showed me where her regular maids kept their supplies. Although they had lived in a suburban house when I first started dating Nadia, they had moved into the city before we married and Isabella's current home was a spacious condominium that occupied one of the upper floors of a tall downtown building. It had three bedrooms, a large living room, dining room, and a library, all with large windows and unique built-in features. There were a variety of support rooms including three baths, kitchen, laundry, sewing nook, and a large walk-in pantry. She suggested I start by vacuuming the house and then wiping down the kitchen. But before I started she had a request. "Brandon I know you will obey my wishes, as Nadia has told me you are well behaved, but I must be sure you are wearing my special requirement. So, please unzip your pants and show me the top of your new shaper." Blushing again, I followed her instructions and her broad smile and thank you made me feel a bit better. It was awkward, but knowing that she felt more at ease did help. I started doing her work and as I immersed myself into the cleaning, I began to feel more comfortable. When I finished these initial chores, I met with her to discuss menus and what foods she liked. We worked out a suite of meals although she was going out to eat tonight with some friends. To help prepare for that, she asked me to iron her dress and polish her shoes while she took a bath. I could see this was a test for me, as she wanted to see if I could handle all the chores she might throw at me. The dress was done quickly, and I was kneeling by the bed polishing her pumps when she came out of the bathroom. Dressed only in a short clingy robe, it was clear that she still had the body to excite any man. She sat down at her vanity and smiling asked me to help her prepare for her evening. I followed her directions and got a very sheer pair of pantyhose, white lace bra and panties from her dresser along with a matching slip. Going through her jewelry chest, I retrieved the items she specified and put everything on her bed. She sat there regally, combing her hair, watching me work behind her reflected in the mirror. As I completed her requests, she turned toward me. "Very good Brandon, I had a feeling you would be more than capable for my needs; I trusted that Nadia had taken the time to train you properly. I think it might help us become more comfortable with closer contact for our roles as nurse and patient after surgery, if I allow you to do some minor beauty tasks now. For example, I normally apply some lotion to my legs and feet after a bath, but delayed it now. Please take this bottle and apply some for me" I immediately felt nervous, but did as she asked, pouring some into my hand and kneeling on the floor in front of her. I gently began rubbing it into her legs and feet using a light massaging touch, something I had often done for Nadia. As I worked upwards on her leg, she lifted it, pointing the toe toward me. That forced my gaze upward and the short hem of her robe was pulled back a bit. I was now very nervous, as my eyes were drawn toward her pussy. It took all the control I had to keep my view focused solely on her thigh. Finally, I just had to close my eyes. As my hands approached the hem of her robe, she dropped her leg and raised the other one, indicating I was to work on it. I repeated the process, only this time, the robe was pushed back even more and I felt beads of sweat pop out on my upper lip. My cock was straining between my legs as it reacted to her sexy appearance. Just as my hands reached her upper thigh, I heard a soft chuckle. "Very good Brandon, you have a light soothing touch, and as much I would love to have more help dressing, I think it would be best if you leave me now. While I'm out, please clean all of the windows before you take a break for dinner. There should be enough ingredients in the refrigerator for you to make a nice salad. Of course tomorrow you will need to go to the store to get food for my menus. Tonight, I will be out late with my friends, so you can go ahead and go to bed. Just be up by 9, as I like coffee, fruit and a croissant for breakfast. By the way, I took the liberty of buying you a nice pair of pajamas and a robe for you to wear while here; you'll find it in your lingerie chest. Nadia told me you normally sleep in the nude, and given our history I felt it would be best that you wear a bit more while you are here. Thanks again, and I'll ring if I need anything before I go. Oh, and one last request. It may seem a bit strange, but it will help me feel more comfortable with you helping me out. Please refer to me as Ms. Isabella. I know we are family, but since you are to be my nurse, as well as replacing my maid and will be doing menial tasks for me I'll find it easier to ask you to do things for me if you show me the respect my other domestic help has shown. Plus a bit of formality will help us avoid any unfortunate incidents from you becoming so familiar with me in intimate situations." The conversation clearly set the tone for our relationship; she was expecting me to fill her servant role almost exclusively. She also was going to take advantage of my previous indiscretion towards her to emphasize how I needed to be controlled. I don't think she really felt offended by what had happened, it just made an easy leverage point for getting me to do as she said. As I left her room, I inwardly thanked her for insisting I wear the shaper; otherwise we would have had a repeat of the swimming incident. After she left for her evening, I finished the windows and ate a light dinner while I made my grocery list for tomorrow. I knew she would want me in her uniform, but figured I could change before I went out. Along with the food, I would take the time to go by my house and pick up a couple of pairs of black dress shoes, socks and some of my own black pants and white shirts. That way I could jettison the sheer knee highs, ornate slippers, and other women's clothes she had provided me. Although I realized I needed to follow most of her requests, I needed to show some resistance or risk falling too far below her which would carry over when I returned to just being her son-in-law. I had suitable clothes that would work and I could easily convince her that it made more sense for me to use my own for my uniform. Once I was done with my dinner, I realized how tiring the day had been emotionally and decided an early evening would be a good idea. In my new bedroom, I searched through the lingerie chest for the night clothes Isabella had purchased. The first time I saw them I passed them by, rationalizing the outfit as something Nadia left behind. But when I found no other suitable candidates, I realized what Isabella had chosen for me. The shirt-like top was acceptable enough, having long sleeves, typical button front and long enough to drop past my waist. The top was a light champagne color, with darker contrasting lapels and cuffs of satin, and made of a soft, silky material. The bottoms were a problem however, being shorts rather than pants. They were extremely short, with only a 2 or 3 inch inseam, with dark satin stripes down the side, and a pull-on elastic waist. Luckily they had a built-in panty liner that kept my cock from being exposed. The matching robe was semi-sheer with a single button at the waist and darker satin cuffs, lapels, and hem. It was very obvious that the outfit was again a woman's style and I was offended by Isabella's choices for me. This would be something else I would replace when I went out tomorrow. Buoyed by my plan for the next day, I put on the night clothes and crawled into bed. I had just about fallen asleep when I heard the door, indicating Isabella's return. Her footsteps sounded down the hall, followed by a light tapping on my bedroom door. "Brandon, are you still awake? I need your help. I have an emergency. Hello, hello, can you hear me?" I jumped up, pulled on my robe and went to the door, imaging all kinds of bad things that could have happened. I opened the door and Isabella stood in the hall with a worried look on her face. "What happened? Are you okay? How can I help?" "Oh Brandon, I am so glad you are here. During dinner one of my friends clumsily spilled some red wine on my dress. I went to the ladies room and dabbed off as much of it as I could, but it still is stained. Can you remove the rest? This is one of my favorite dresses and I would be heartbroken if it is ruined." I was about to get mad at how she had portrayed this problem as an emergency, but then realized it would not be smart. Checking the stain I could see it was still wet which made it easier to deal with. "I should be able to get your dress clean, Ms. Isabella, but I will need to work on it right now while it is wet." "Of course Brandon, you are such a dear; just help me with my zipper." She turned and allowed me to pull down her zipper. Stepping out of the dress, she turned to face me again. Her slip was molded tightly to her body and I was immediately glad that the pajama shorts had the built-in panty or I would be tenting them. Isabella realized of course that she would have that effect on me, and smiled as if she had caught me doing something wrong. "Sweetie, thanks for wearing your pajamas, otherwise this could have been real awkward. They look divine on you by the way. I guess I had forgotten what nice legs you have. But I did buy a pair of matching slippers for the outfit, they're in the closet. " I wanted to say no thanks, but decided to just go along tonight. Looking in the closet, I cringed when I saw them. They were a matching satin champagne color, with about a one-inch wedge heel and a large bow on the band. I slid my feet into them and was surprised again at how they fit. Like the black slippers they seemed to be just the right size. The wedge heel felt a little strange, but they were not high enough to make walking difficult. As I walked back to the hall, Isabella reached out and stroked my hair. Normally I wear it in a ponytail, but I had left it untied for bed. My long hair rested on my shoulders and she looked it over intently. "Brandon your hair is gorgeous. I've never seen a man with such pretty flowing locks. I don't know why you don't wear it this way more often, it gives you a whole different look than when it is in a ponytail. It looks so much softer and sensual. The way it frames your face highlights your delicate features. Nadia must love taking advantage of you when you look this way; definitely desirable yet vulnerable." I didn't know what to say, so I just whispered a soft thank you and indicated I needed to get to work on the stain. As I began to walk down the hall to the laundry room, I heard Isabella chuckle. Glancing over my shoulder I saw my reflection in the hallway mirror, and felt my face flush, as I could see my ass wiggle as a result of the heels and tight shorts. I hurried on to get the club soda to remove the stain. "Thanks again Brandon. See you in the morning." Cleaning the stain didn't take long, but it took me forever to fall asleep. I kept replaying Isabella's comments about my appearance. I knew I was not manly in the typical way, but she seemed to feel my appearance meant I was submissive and feminine. I knew in her culture and the culture of her late husband, my appearance could be seen as soft, maybe even demure, but that was not me at all. I had always seen myself as fully masculine in my interactions with my wife, despite any role reversal we might have in our marriage. Following Isabella's comments this self-assurance was a bit damaged. I knew now, it was more important than ever that I regain control of how I would help her out during this process. I don't remember when I fell asleep, but the alarm indicating it was time to get up startled me. A quick shower and shave, and I began to get dressed. I seriously considered wearing my own clothes, but didn't want to directly challenge her request, without having a suitable replacement in hand. I felt good knowing my plan for the rest of the day would get me back on more comfortable footing. The only consolation I might make would be to wear the shaper. So far, it had saved me a couple of times from an embarrassing situation. I quickly put on her uniform but pulled my hair back in its normal ponytail. Working in the kitchen, I assembled her breakfast while drinking a cup of coffee and having a slice of toast. I had just finished putting my cup in the dishwasher, when I heard her enter the kitchen. Turning around I was expecting to see her in a robe, I assumed she was a late starter and was startled to see her fully dressed. She was wearing a tight fitting silvery gray jacket and pants with darker gray pumps. She was fully made up and had pulled her hair up on her head. She presented a very smart looking image. Smiling, she sat at the table as I laid her breakfast in front of her. "Good morning Brandon, I see you have what I asked. I'll have to make quick work of this, as I have lots of errands to run this morning. I want you to go ahead and do your grocery shopping as well so you can still have sufficient time this afternoon to do some more chores." "Sounds good to me, I can leave anytime, just let me know where the store is that you usually shop at so I can drive there. I have my list and should be back in short order. I won't get in your way to do your errands, and I can be back easily by noon." "Well you won't need to drive; I go right by the store and can drop you off. I have two portable carts for my maids to use to bring back the groceries, as the store is just four blocks away. I noticed last night that you had parked your car in my guest spot in the parking garage. Since you will be here so long, taking my only extra spot would be inconvenient. So I called my auto service and they should have towed your vehicle back to your house by now. While you are here, I can either give you a ride or you can take a taxi. The good thing is so much of your shopping is in walking distance that you can do most of your errands on foot. So, that is settled. The only other thing I need to check this morning is your shaper - I think you know the drill." I was stunned. I had counted on having my car and thought immediately about what I would have to do to go to my house and retrieve my clothes to make my version of her uniform. I was so focused on this rapid change of events that I stood there frozen for a second. Seeing no response, Isabella's face changed to a more commanding look. "Don't dawdle Brandon, please unzip you pants and let me confirm that you are being polite." Embarrassed that she had to call me out again, I quickly compiled and in my haste pulled them down so the waist of the pants was at my thighs. I heard the soft chuckle from her that indicated I had done something amusing again. "Very good Brandon, I also see you took my advice on tucking yourself. Although I don't think it is necessary to show me you are obeying me to that degree. I do wish you would reconsider always putting your hair in a ponytail. With a little help, it would look very nice and although unusual for a man, I think it fits you perfectly. You can zip up now and put away these dishes. I think we are ready to go." I pulled up my pants and fastened them. It struck me then that I was going out in the women's clothes she had provided me. I started to panic, thinking about how I could get changed. Then it hit me. "Isabella, I'll need to change before we go out. The uniform you provided me is good to work in, but it doesn't have any pockets for my wallet or keys. It will just take me a moment to change." "Oh Brandon, I thought of that. I have one of my smaller purses you can use. I put an extra door key in it, as well as the pass key for the building entrance. It is in a nice black color with a longer strap that will fit over your shoulder. While you were doing chores yesterday I transferred what you would need from your wallet to a woman's wallet that matches the purse. I also put a credit card in it that I have available for my maids. When you go to the grocery, just let them know you are my maid and they can verify you have permission to charge on my account. So, there is no point in you wasting time changing in and out of the clothes I provided you. They fit you nicely, and I think are appropriate with your role for me. I do concede that they might need some adjustment, but I'll work that out. So if you are ready, let's go." It struck me then, how controlling Isabella really was. She was determined to keep me under her thumb while I was helping her and with Nadia overseas I had no one to turn to for help. I helplessly followed her out of the condo and down to her car. The quick trip to the store gave me little time to prepare for my public debut. Pulling the two portable shopping carts into the store, I felt like I was being thrown to the lions. As I started to shop for the items on my list, I soon realized that a fair number of the shoppers were other maids; most dressed in plain black or gray uniforms. They were easily identified by the type of cart they used, just like mine. I just focused on my list, trying not to admit how I must look to other shoppers. The checkout was equally embarrassing; as I had to tell the clerk that I was helping Ms. Isabella Asem and should be on her account. She smiled and said no problem, lots of maids shopped there. The walk back to the condo went quickly but I tried not to look around. Once I was back inside, I put away the groceries and decided just to start the list of cleaning chores she had left for me. The entire time I thought about how I could get back to my house to retrieve more clothes. By the time I had finished, I just decided I would wear what I had on hand and tell Isabella the truth, that I was uncomfortable in her uniform. I was a family member, not a domestic servant. As I reached that conclusion, Isabella returned, beaming. She walked into the kitchen holding several shopping bags, one of which she put on the table in front of me. "Brandon, I have been so pleased with how things are going so far. You are a wonderful housekeeper and make a nice companion. The way you have adjusted to my schedule and requirements has given me a whole other perspective on your personality. But one problem about our arrangement so far has bothered me. I really appreciate you being willing to wear the shapers I gave you to avoid any embarrassing situations, but it bothered me to have to ask you to unzip your pants and pull them down for inspection. That was just too awkward in many ways. But I think I have a solution. I was looking for a nice suit, when I saw this cute black skirt. It just dawned on me. If you wore a skirt rather than pants when you were here, then all you would need to do is flip it up to show me the shaper legs. That way I could confirm your compliance without having to make you partially undress. So I picked this up. It should fit, so go try it on for me." She stood there with a big smile as if she had just solved the largest problem in the world. I was flabbergasted. I decided it was time to make a stand. So rather than take the bag, I stood up to let her know what I had in mind. "Isabella, we need to talk. I agreed to help you with your pending surgery and have no problems doing the chores or duties that you have asked me. However, the manner in which you want me to help you is pushing the limit. For example, your offer to provide me a uniform was nice, but not necessary. Now it is becoming ridiculous; the clothes are obviously a females and I don't think appropriate for me. Similarly, you removing my car and changing my wallet contents to a purse are just over the line. So, I think rather than go try on this skirt that I'll just change into my own clothes and for that matter, I want to go retrieve my car so that I may come and go as I please." I stopped at this point to see what her reaction was. I wanted to be strong willed about this, but I was a bit more forceful than I intended. Overall I thought I had delivered my position. Now I had to see how she felt. Looking up I didn't see the expected anger on her face; she looked crest fallen as if I had told her I hated her. She glanced down at the table that held the shopping bag with the skirt and then back up at me. Finally, with a look that conveyed utter disappointment she responded. "Brandon I'm shocked at your outburst. Whatever I have done, I did only with the intent to make this situation easier. I know I am asking a lot of you, but Nadia convinced me that you wanted to help in any way you could. She promised me that you were not only willing but excited about the opportunity to get to know me better. But I am a private person and to allow someone as close to me as you will need to be is very difficult. Looking at the situation I decided it would be easier if I formalized our relationship; thus the need for uniforms and a more structured interaction. I could see how I could make it work if you were like a maid; I have managed such situations before. But hiding underneath it all, was the knowledge of how you had lusted for me before. I never told Nadia about your reaction, so I couldn't ask her advice, but I knew I had to take steps to keep it in order. Are you denying that the proximity we have shared so far would not have caused you to become erect, if I had not put you in a woman's control garment?" Her response had caught me totally off guard and I could not answer her question immediately. I sputtered a second, my face flushing red and hot, and then mumbled out a no. "So you agree that you need your lust to be controlled or would you rather I tell Nadia the reason why you wouldn't help me?" "No I don't want you to tell Nadia and yes, I guess it does make it easier to be so close." "Well that is how I feel about your uniform; it allows me to be closer to you physically without the embarrassment I normally would experience. I admit your clothes are women's styles, but I bet few people noticed the differences and with minor changes I think we can avoid any awkward encounters. Are you not willing to work with me to make this situation better?" Again, I felt a wave of guilt sweep over me. Had I been that insensitive to Isabella? Was she really that shy that my presence could cause her problems? I knew I had to make this work, if for anything to keep my promise to Nadia. "I am willing to work with you Isabella, but I didn't see your side of it I guess." "I admit I didn't totally consider your side either Brandon. So let's start over. The first step for me, now that I know you agree you need help controlling your lust, is to minimize the difficulty in how I confirm your participation. I think that means wearing a skirt when you are here with me, unless you have a better option?" I was totally confused now. I had started out feeling confident in how I explained my position. Now I had been talked into going further by wearing a skirt. I felt defeated but not having a better suggestion, I reached over and picked up the bag. A smile returned to her face and Isabella patted me on the back. "That's much better Brandon. I do promise that I will look at this setup to see how I might improve things so you are not embarrassed by what you are doing. Also, I should have given you more warning before setting you up with a purse and moving your car. I'll see what I can do about that." Nodding my head, I did feel a little better about her last statements. I went back to the bedroom and took the skirt out of the bag. It was rather plain, black with a side zipper and not particularly long. I slid off my pants and then worked the skirt up my legs and fastened it at the waist. As with the other clothes, Isabella had hit my size perfectly. The length of the skirt just covered the legs of my shaper, but I did look odd with my sheer knee-his and slipper shoes. But I returned to the kitchen so Isabella could see. "Oh Brandon, that is much better. It isn't that radical a change, at least for inside my home. I certainly won't look at you negatively for wearing what I asked you to. Let me see if you are following my decency rule." I knew what she meant, so I lifted up the hem of the skirt. She smiled, nodded her approval, and then launched into a list of what cleaning she needed done this afternoon. The rest of the day was uneventful, except for a minor correction when I forgot to call her Ms. Isabella. Working in a skirt was not that hard, especially after she showed me the proper way to smooth it down before I sat and other tricks like how to bend at the knees to pick up something from the floor, or how to keep my knees together to avoid showing off my underwear. While I was working she spent a lot of time on the phone, and I could tell she was intent on solving our remaining conflicts. That evening, after we had a nice dinner, she asked me to sit with her in the living room for a discussion. "Brandon I want to compliment you on how well you worked with me today. I knew once we talked out our differences that we could come up with a solution. I really liked how the skirt worked for me. You seem to take to it naturally, so I decided to get you a few accessories to make it more complete. Also, wearing a skirt or even a dress for that matter requires certain grooming requirements, so I made arrangements to take care of that for you. Once I looked at your experience today at the store from your point of view, I could see how it would be awkward even embarrassing for you. I had not even considered how going somewhere in women's clothes looking like you do would be a problem. But I think the steps I have lined up for tomorrow should remove any of that potential humiliation. So work with me on this, and we will have all the kinks smoothed out by the time of the surgery. Also, I called the car service company and arranged for a driver and car to be available for you whenever you need; they guaranteed a response time within 15 minutes, so hopefully that will off-set not having your own car handy. Finally, I want to complement you again on your domestic skills; my home practically sparkles and your dinner was divine. I completely understand now why Nadia was so eager to turn over those responsibilities to you rather than any other maid." Although she felt like she was laying out a positive plan, all I saw was potential red flags. I was worried about tomorrow, but knew at this point I had to try it before I could complain again. Even her attempts at compliments seem back-handed. Maybe she was just awkward at close personal interactions and didn't know how to talk with someone without making it seem like she was a control freak. At least she was back to a good mood and seemed satisfied with my efforts. I guess I'd deal with tomorrow when it comes. The following morning I took a long luxurious shower, washed my hair, and shaved before getting dressed. Isabella told me I would be going out first thing today and could dress in my own clothes. It felt good to slip into my comfortable jeans, t-shirt and sandals. She said I could skip my shaper, so it was my usual boxers. I had breakfast ready when she got up, but this time she was in a robe and night-gown. She explained that she had lined up the car service for me and all I had to do was go where they took me. Although it was not quite the freedom of my own car, it was pretty close. I felt a little better about how our talk went yesterday and how I had stood up for my rights. The driver was right on-time and as we headed out, I felt good. The first stop was at a salon; it looked to be high dollar and I was a bit puzzled by why we were stopping here, but the driver showed me his instructions and it was clearly listed. Entering the salon, I told the receptionist my name and after checking her register, she called someone up front to meet me. Looking around, I saw nothing but women customers, and the place had all the accoutrements you'd associate with a ladies' spa. When the stylist came out front, the receptionist gave her a note, I assume indicating why I was here, and we headed down a nicely decorated hallway to a small room. "Good morning, I hope you are doing well. My name is Maxine and I'll be in charge of your experience today at Ladies Choice. We like to assign each customer a representative when they come to us, so all your needs will be met. I think it is even more important for you, as we don't generally get many male customers. But Ms. Asem was very explicit on what she wanted done for you today, so I think we shouldn't have any problems. The first thing on her list was waxing services; she said your new uniform was going to feature skirts and it would be better if you had smooth legs. So go ahead and slip out of your clothes; you can keep your panties on at this point." Smiling she indicated where I could put my clothes. I was caught totally off-guard by this development and all I could think to do was blurt out that I wasn't wearing panties. But as I said it, I included today. Immediately, I began to blush and tried to stammer out a correction, but the girl just smiled and said no problem. As I was undressing, another woman came in the room. She was dressed in a white smock and had rubber gloves on her hands. It was obvious that she would be doing the waxing. Maxine talked to her briefly and left the clipboard with my orders on it. As she was leaving Maxine asked if I preferred honey or lemon in my tea; she would have some ready after I was smooth. The technician seemed real friendly and asked questions or made comments almost non-stop as she got down to work. She had me lay down on my back and covered my torso with a sheet; I think for privacy as much as warmth. She smiled when I said I had never been waxed before and told me that it would be a little painful at first, but she assured me that once I saw how nice I looked afterwards that I would be very pleased. I was not so sure, and as she ripped off the first strip from my calf, I let out a yelp. I could tell from her reaction that she was surprised, so I made a concerted effort to hide my discomfort as she proceeded. I gritted my teeth, but consoled myself that it would only be a little while, as she made quick work of my legs, going up my thighs and eventually pushing my boxers back so she could get almost to my hips. Just as I was beginning to worry about exposing myself to her, she declared she was done with my legs. But she immediately moved the sheet down to cover my legs and acted as if she was going to do more waxing. "Miss, I think all I needed was my legs. You don't need to do any more." "Well that's not what's shown on your order sheet. Maxine said Ms. Asem was very specific in her requests. She has you down for a complete body waxing. If you want I can have Maxine call her, but Ms. Asem is a regular customer and I'm sure we have it right. She might not appreciate you questioning what she wanted." I was a bit panicked now. I didn't want to lose any more body hair but I also didn't want to be challenging Isabella at this stage. Not knowing what else to do, I told her to proceed. She smiled and told me to relax; I would look so cuter with a smooth body. She proceeded to remove my chest, underarm and even my arm hair. Having me turn over, she continued removing the small amount on my back. At this point I hoped we were done, but I felt her move the sheet up on my back, as she lightly grabbed the top of my boxers. Telling me to lift up a little, she smoothly slipped them down and off my legs. "I'm going to need your help with this part a bit more. Ms. Asem ordered a Brazilian, which includes removing all the hair from your derriere, your privates, in-between, and above. After I wax your cheeks, I'm going to need you to get up on your knees and spread a bit for me. Don't be embarrassed, I do this every day for girls. It will feel a bit odd, but afterwards you'll wonder why you waited so long to do it." I couldn't believe it, but did as she asked when she was ready for it. Kneeling, with my head on the table, I reached back and spread my cheeks. The pain was nothing compared to the embarrassment. She worked up to the base of my cock and balls and then asked me to turn over. As I lay down on my back, she looked at my cock and a little giggle escaped her lips. I looked at her a bit shocked and she immediately responded. "I'm not laughing at what you think; Ms. Asem just asked us to confirm that you were indeed a real redhead. Your cute little bush, with the red curly hair just made me think to myself that you can't get any more real than that. Ms. Asem had mentioned that she loved your hair and hoped it would be natural. If it was, then I am supposed to leave a narrow, landing strip, so that means in will be a partial Brazilian; just hold on, we are almost finished." She smiled again and without delay began to remove my pubic hair, until only a thin strip directly above my cock remained. Once that was smooth, she started on my cock and ball sack. Again the position was more embarrassing than what she was doing. I had to bend my knees back and spread wide so that I was totally exposed. The only good thing was that she worked quickly. Once she was satisfied, she told me to stand up and look in the mirror. The image that I saw was strikingly different than before. I was not extremely hairy, but the total absence of hair gave me a younger, definitely more feminine appearance. The little landing strip just screamed female, as did the absence of hair under my arms and on my legs. After a quick look, I hurriedly got dressed again. I wanted to keep this as private as possible from now on, although the girl said I done really well for my first time and she looked forward to me returning for maintenance waxing. She indicated that would be much easier. It had taken over an hour for the waxing but I was just glad it was done, as it was embarrassing the whole time. The technician had left and Maxine came back in carrying a cup of hot tea. She had me follow her to a comfortable chair where another girl began to give me a pedicure. She soaked my feet, filed my nails, pushed back the cuticles, and buffed off a few callouses on my feet. That was much more soothing than the waxing experience and when I was done with the tea; she proceeded to do the same with my fingernails. Once she had them shaped properly, she started to apply some polish. I spoke up, indicating I wasn't sure I wanted polish. Her response was the same as the waxing tech that it was on the list provided by Ms. Asem, who had even specified a nude shade of polish. At this point, Maxine returned and confirmed that I was to get polish, but tried to minimize it by saying the nude polish was such a neutral shade that it would go with anything I wore. Like the waxing, it would just give me a more complete look. Also, Ms. Asem had refused to do any nail extensions; she felt that would get in the way of my domestic duties. Although Maxine whispered that once Ms. Asem saw how my nails looked and as they lengthened normally, that she was sure I could go with a longer style. Maxine felt like a short extension tip would have enough strength to handle any chores I needed to do, especially if I wore rubber gloves. The nail work went fairly rapidly, and I was hoping that this was all the embarrassment that Isabella had chosen for me, but no there was one final step. Maxine came to see me, just as the nail tech finished. She gently stroked my hair and pulled off my hair tie, letting my hair fall to my shoulders. Fluffing it out, both women looked at it and smiled. "The next two beauty treatments Ms. Asem asked us to do was to add some style to your hair and face. She loved the length, color, and natural wave of your hair, but felt you weren't taking full advantage of its potential. Mindy told me you were indeed a natural redhead and I agree with Ms. Asem. It is gorgeous. You have such nice color and natural high-lights to boot, so we won't need to adjust your color. Looking at it, you just need a little trim to get rid of some split-ends, but that won't shorten it much. I think if we just set it and style to give you more volume and a few soft curls to compliment your natural waves, then I think Ms. Asem will be happy. As far as your face, you are very lucky to have such a nice complexion and smooth skin. It doesn't look like you have much of a beard, so that shouldn't be an issue. What I'll have our makeup specialist do, is use a very light foundation, just enough to soften your cute freckles. Because this is a daytime style, we will go with minimal blush, light mascara and eye liner, and a nude style lipstick. What I want to emphasize are your beautiful green eyes. A bit of eye liner and a green palate of eye shadows that will make your eyes pop. I think that is just what Ms. Asem is after. She doesn't want you to look overdone, but just to highlight your best features. Although this may sound like a lot, I think once you see how natural it looks you will admit that it improves your overall appearance." With that she took me by the hand and led me to the hair stylist. The next hour I spent getting my hair washed, trimmed, rolled, and dried. Once that was done, I was fussed over by the makeup artist. She worked quickly, chatting the whole time about how delicate my features were. She loved my eyes and lips, telling me that she could spin a whole range of looks for me, if I wanted to be more dramatic for evenings out or special occasions. Once she was done, the hair stylist unrolled my hair, combed it out and set the style with hair spray. They had refused to let me see the result in a mirror, until Maxine returned. Turning me around, they let experience my new look. All of the women were almost glowing, proud of the improvements that they had done for me. As I took in all the changes, I was speechless and a little scared. With my delicate facial features the makeup gave me a woman's face while the volume and waves in my hair framed it perfectly. The only thing that kept me from passing completely was my male clothing. Once the ladies were done, Maxine gave me a satchel with my makeup and hair styling products and told me my driver was waiting outside, that he knew where I needed to go next. As much as I felt uncomfortable in the salon, leaving and getting into the limo was really embarrassing, especially since the driver opened the door for me and called me miss. He knew what I looked like when I went in but now, I guess he felt that title suited me best. The drive was short and he was soon opening the door for me at what appeared to be a high-end women's clothing shop. As I entered, another cheerful saleslady greeted me. I guess from the contrast between my male clothes and female face, hair and nails, she figured I had to be Ms. Asem's guest. "We have everything boxed up that Ms. Asem ordered but she wanted you to try on one of your outfits just to be sure. You go ahead into this change room, and I'll bring it in." The blush that had just begun to recede as I rode in the limo, now returned in force. The clerk brought me the items just as I had removed my shirt and sandals. I stopped undressing to allow her to leave, but she stayed put, gathering up my clothes as she stood by. "Don't mind me; I'm just here to be sure there are no fit problems. I'll put these clothes in a bag for you. Assuming the sizes are correct, Ms. Asem wanted you to wear your new outfit home." Not knowing what else to do, I just slid off my pants. The cool breeze on my newly waxed body and the embarrassment of standing in front of a cute stranger made goose bumps ripple across my skin. I glanced at the pile of clothes and as I feared, sitting on top was a pair of lace panties. Knowing I would have to do it eventually, I slipped off my boxers and as I picked up the panties, I heard a muffled chuckle from the clerk. Looking at her in the eyes, she just mouthed the words: sorry, but you just look so cute! I pulled the panties up my legs, but turned away a bit so I could tuck myself. Not looking at her I quickly put on the shaper. It was a brief style that had four short garters. Next on the pile of clothes was a pair of dark tan, sheer stockings. As I had seen Nadia wear these before, I balled them up and slid them up my legs to attach the darker welt to each garter. The feeling as the silky nylon stretched up my now smooth leg was very sensual and almost made me not regret having them waxed. As I finished with the second stocking, I saw what looked like a camisole. Again I was puzzled by this, and looked at the clerk. Realizing my confusion, she merely said that the top was listed by Ms. Asem and was in fact part of a matching set that included the shaper and the panties. I did notice that they all had the same lace pattern. Nodding my head, I pulled the camisole over my head and down my body. It fit snuggly around my torso and the spaghetti straps positioned the cups high on my chest. Seeing this, the clerk quickly adjusted the strap length so the cups fit over my breasts as if I were a woman. The cups were slightly padded which gave me somewhat of a bust. The remaining clothes included the same style skirt I had already worn, only in dark khaki and a semi-sheer cr?me blouse with lace accents at the collar. The final touch was a pair of nude open-toe, sling-back shoes with a moderate heel. Looking at myself in the mirror, I could see the camisole slightly through the blouse, but the nude color of the lingerie made it mostly invisible. Overall my appearance was now highly feminine, with my makeup, hair, and clothes all coordinated. I was both embarrassed and angry. Embarrassed both because I now looked so feminine and how it was quite easy to achieve that look. Angry because Isabella had taken the liberties of arranging this transformation for me so that I now looked like a girl. The reflection in the mirror showed how the flared skirt, narrow waist, and padded bust gave me a demure hourglass figure. The hair and makeup complimented a feminine style while the heels, sheer stockings, and subtly polished nails completed the overall look. Seeing myself as a woman, I was reminded that Isabella had promised me she would remove any potential humiliation my appearance would make when I went out to run her errands. I had erroneously assumed that meant a more masculine uniform, but I saw now what she meant. I had to admit there was no way anyone would I was assume I was not what I appeared to be, a cute well- dressed woman. Confirming that everything fit comfortably, the clerk took my old clothes and had the driver come in to pick up the packages. I caught his eye as he saw me standing at the counter, signing the slip for the purchases; he glanced up and down my figure taking in my new appearance before smiling slightly and winking. I had seen that kind of look before and had even given that type of look to women I was admiring myself. As I followed him out the door to the limo, the pull of the taut garter straps against my nylons, the click of my heels on the floor, the slight swaying of the hem on my skirt, the light pressure of the camisole straps on my shoulders, the bounce of my curled hair on my sheer lace collar, the taste of the lipstick on my lips, and the thick dark eyelashes at the edge of my vision, all reminded me of my new look. I was a woman through and through. Even the tight pressure of the shaper against my cock tucked snuggly between my legs made it clear that I had abandoned my masculinity and submitted to Isabella's complete feminization. I demurely allowed the driver to open the limo door for me. As I moved to get in, I smoothed the back of my skirt out as I sat down and swung my legs into the car held tightly together so as to not flash my underwear to him. The motions were overtly feminine and I had done them instinctively. I cringed as I he shut the door, knowing how that simple move only reinforced his view of me as a feminized man. The ride back to the condominium went silently and as I disembarked at the front entrance, the driver offered to take the packages up to my apartment for me. I politely declined, but he did tell me if I needed a driver again, to be sure to ask for him, as he thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Blushing I went inside and up to Isabella's condominium. The place was empty as she had left earlier, but a note and a flat box were sitting on the table. The note told me she hoped my new look resolved any concerns I had about confusion with my appearance and that she was sure that her efforts had produced a pretty solution. It also complimented me again on my work and that she appreciated how willing I was to accommodate her requests. As a reward, she had bought me a small gift. I took that to mean the box and opened it. Inside were three aprons and matching hairbands. They were a pure white half-apron style with a wide ruffle around the hem. The hair bands were also white and had a ruffle that stood up almost like a crown. I took the box and my other packages back to my room and began to put them away. The other uniforms were also color coordinated, with one set of a gray skirt and silver blouse, and two others of black skirts with either a black or white blouse. The uniforms were complimented by matching hosiery and heels. There were multiple sets of panties, shapers, and either camisoles or bras, so that I had one each of black, white, nude, and a darker tan. I fumed even more when I saw the bras, as they were more padded than the camisoles and were obviously a statement by Isabella that she wanted me feminized and humiliated. Adding this to the so- called gift of aprons made me want to leave or cry but I knew I couldn't; one because I didn't want to fail my wife and the other because I wasn't going to mess up my makeup and look even sillier. So I bit my lip, and decided to just get on with it. Knowing she expected it I put on the apron and worked the hairband into my coiffure and started on my list of chores. I was fully engaged in dusting the living room shelves when Isabella returned. "Oh Brandon, you look darling. Turn around and let me see you. I knew with the right touch, you would look gorgeous. Your hair is so luscious and frames your face just as I imagined it. The waves give you just the touch of style you needed. Also, the makeup gives your face the finished look. I thought with your delicate features, it would only take some light makeup to allow your inner girl to blossom. Your eyes just sparkle now and your cute little mouth is so kissable with that shade of lipstick. The finishing touch is how your legs look so polished under your nylons. Knowing that you are smooth everywhere else is comforting too. I knew getting you to the salon was just what we needed to solve your identity crisis. I've got to call Maxine and thank her; they did everything just as I asked. As far as your uniform, I couldn't have hoped for a better look. You now have feminine flair and I might add a sexy style that you don't often see in domestic help. The best part is that now I know for sure you are wearing your shaper as you must wear it to wear your stockings. I appreciate your commitment to me; I know it had to be a challenge but I assume after you saw how your new look is perfect to be my maid that you agree that it was for the best. Also if you are honest with yourself you'll see how emphasizing your feminine attributes is a good choice. I do hope your appreciate my efforts; it was a real challenge to find a way to avoid your silly fear of appearing feminine and meet my needs to ensure your lust was under control. Plus, I've always required my other maids to buy their own uniforms. I guess being part of the family does have its perks. Given your excellent work so far, I might be a little hesitant to give you back to Nadia when she returns." She laughed with that last remark and came closer to examine me more. She motioned for me to spin, which I did feeling my face flush with embarrassment and I had to choke back some nasty comments regarding her assessments. But, I decided I had to speak up to voice my displeasure with the extent of this transformation. "Ms. Isabella, I do appreciate all you want to do for me to make my adjustment to this situation easier. But I never envisioned you asking me to go this far in changing my look. I mean what man would agree to appear as a woman, let alone a maid? You had good intentions I'm sure but this is too far. I mean you bought me padded bras for goodness sakes. I know the incident at your pool was a bit embarrassing for both of us, however in some ways it was unavoidable as you are still a very attractive woman. But to ask me to assume the role of a woman and to appear fully as one to be your maid is too much." When I finished I stood there trying to portray an image of strength, with my arms crossed in front of my chest and my legs spread as far apart as I could manage in my skirt. I wanted to show her I was not intimidated by her and I felt my appearance did convey conviction, with only a slight quivering of my lower lip and some tottering in my high heels giving away my inner doubts about how easy my conversion to a feminine image really spoke to my masculine shortcomings. Isabella did not even seem fazed by my outburst this time, and her only reaction was a snarky smirk. She stepped closer to me and ran her fingers first lightly through my hair, and then traced a path down my body touching my camisole strap through the blouse, the ruffled edge of my apron, and ending by sliding them up my nylons to reach the garter strap. Tugging lightly on the strap she looked me directly in the eye. "Well I guess if we're being honest, I might as well tell you the truth Brandon, or maybe I should say Brianna. No man would have gone as far as you gone without secretly wanting to make this transition. I knew when Nadia first introduced us, that you were presenting a tougher front than was real. You had a certain softness that men don't have. As we got closer I was sure you were more feminine than masculine. It wasn't an accident that when you came over to swim that first time that I was in such a tiny suit. I knew from your embarrassment to becoming erect at a sexy woman that you were secretly shamed by your cock: both its small size and how it signaled manliness. Despite my misgivings about your masculinity I allowed Nadia to marry you. But when she came to me crying about how you were not the man she expected, how what she had seen as a quiet confidence was in reality shyness, and how she missed being with a forceful confident lover, I knew I had to help. With my guidance, she pushed you into managing her household, something she had no interest in but for which you seemed a natural fit. Once I convinced her to look at you as you really were, her unhappiness was reduced. I suggested she continue to train you, this time to please her orally. That you seemed to be the type of man that would not see placing his face in her privates and using his tongue to provide her orgasms as an act unworthy of his masculinity, but rather as a way to compensate for his shortcomings. Once she was satisfied that she could enjoy you in that way, I told her I would take you and transform you to something she needed. Nadia didn't ask what that transformation would be, trusting me to choose the right path. Perhaps she still thought you a man, but I was intent on formalizing your domestic status and releasing your inner girl. I called my contacts in Jordan and set up the long business trip. I made up a ruse about needing surgery and having you fill in as my nurse. Her eagerness to have you serve me gave me the signal that she