A Weekend That Changed My Life Part Two free porn video

A weekend that changed my life (Part two) So you have heard about how my weekend began and how my wife Tracey was now calling me Sharon. I woke the following morning thinking it had all been some weird dream, until I realised, as I started to pull the sheets off and sit up, that I still had the hair extensions on with a ponytail like Ariana Grande and I felt the camisole I was wearing on my chest. Wait, my chest felt heavier I thought and I looked down. I had breasts! "Tracey!" I called out. She must have glued the breasts on me while I was sleeping as I could not have grown natural breasts overnight. This wasn't some gender-bender's fantasy world! They couldn't be natural breasts. I looked in my drawer for some boxer shorts. I was going to dress as male as possible for a man with a ponytail and breasts. Damn! All I could find was a note and another pair of her bras and panties. I couldn't stand around naked as I had already taken off the camisole and panties and it was cold so, although I was reluctant to do so, I had put on Tracey's underwear again. I then read them note which said:: "Dear Sharon, I suspect you have already put on the bra and panties I left for you before reading this note. You can't resist the urge to dress in my clothes can you? However, I can't keep loaning you my clothes and so you should consider the bra and panties I have left for you as a donation to your new wardrobe along with the camisole and panties you were wearing last night, the cheerleaders' costume you wore yesterday and the clothing I have got for you today but you really must go and buy your own clothing today too. I am glad to think you are embracing your feminine side and dressing accordingly like the girl you are. As you lay there you looked so sweet in my camisole but I thought something was missing as I looked at you. So as luck would have it I had these breastforms lying around which I stuck to your chest whilst you were sleeping. It almost completes your look! Do you think of yourself as Sharon yet or would you need an operation? I had washed a pair of your boxer shorts last night but, as I figured you preferred to wear my panties, I figured that you wouldn't mind if I borrowed some of your clothes in return. I have decided to use your more presentable boxer shorts for my yoga sessions as they hide where I have not used my hair removal cream which I used up on you yesterday! Anyway most of your boxer shorts looked so tired I figured you wouldn't mind if I threw them out! Love, Tracey PS As I figure you won't want to go out dressed like you already are it would look really cute if you wore the clothes I have left out for you. You should also think of them as your own as I bought them specially for you. I have locked away those clothes you used to wear when you crossdressed as a man." I looked out the window and saw the bin on the street waiting for the bin men to collect. Normally I would have gone out to retrieve my underwear but I couldn't go out dressed like this! I watched helplessly as the bin men emptied my underwear into the dustcart thankful for the net curtains, which suddenly took on a femininity of their own. It was like I was hidden behind my mother's petticoats again but this time I was standing there in a bra and panties! So, Tracey was really trying to get me to think of myself as a woman and to think of dressing as a man as crossdressing! I thought about the questions that she had asked in her note. No I said to myself I felt I could resist the urge to dress in her clothes as I stood there wearing her bra and panties. Just give me some male clothes to wear again! I would show her! I did not want to think of her bra and panties as my bra and panties despite what she had written nor her other clothing I had worn. No I was Steve, I could not think of myself as Sharon, could I? Despite my breasts and what I was wearing. I felt so cold. Didn't women feel the cold more than men? I was wearing more clothing than a man in his underwear would have. I never felt cold standing round in my boxer shorts as I would have done when I was Steve, did that mean I was becoming Sharon? I looked round for some clothing, it was so cold, putting the camisole back on again and getting back under those pink sheets felt like I was admitting I was some sort of gay transvestite.. But I had to put something on and all I could see to wear was the black silk shiny dress Tracey had bought me. Men wore black didn't they? It wasn't a very feminine colour was it? But Tracey had written that she wanted me to wear it... Maybe it would both feel warmer and make Tracey happy... Black wasn't all that feminine was it? How warm would that feel? Then I noticed there were also some fishnet stockings and a pink lace suspender belt. It took me some time to work out how to attach the fishnets to the suspender belt and how to adjust the straps so they didn't just ping off but not half as long as it then took me to zip myself into the dress. I think I was starting to sweat by the time I had got the dress on properly. That was why she would ask me to zip her! I then realised you should put the suspender belt before your panties as I needed the toilet. That was the last time I made that mistake as I have always put my suspenders and stockings on first ever since. I sat down to pee, for the first time since I was a little boy. I looked at how the petticoat within the dress puffed it out almost like a ballerina's dress as I sat there. Dressed like I was, peeing like I used to do as Steve was not an option, as I had to lift my dress up rather than pull it down. I am not sure if it was as I noticed how the dress looked on me or when I noticed that there was a cap and apron I was meant to wear with it that I realised I was meant to be dressed as a French Maid! At this point I was already wearing the French Maid dress and I did not want to take it off again as apart from my obvious difficulties with the zip I knew how cold I would feel. Also I told myself I did not want Tracey to be angry at me so I decided I might as well put the cap and apron on. There was no point drawing a line in the sand of my fading masculinity and saying I am almost dressed as a French Maid but I won't go any further and wear the apron and cap. That would simply be ridiculous. As I looked at myself in the mirror I realised I still had the make-up on from last night. Somehow I looked more like a Sharon than I did a Steve. I was starting to think I had actually chosen to feminise myself more by getting dressed as a French Maid rather than staying in bed where the only feminine clothes I was wearing were the camisole and panties... Wow I looked sexy! Did I want to become Sharon? "Oh Sharon you look so cute!" I realised Tracey had got home and was surprised I had not heard her comes in as I stared at myself in the mirror.. "Look I bought you some heels to wear to complete your outfit, put them on Sharon, you know you want to!" In my confused state I was no longer convinced she was wrong as I carefully slipped my fishnet encased feet into the heels. "Careful now, Sharon, it will take you a few minutes to get used to walking in heels. You will find yourself obliged to walk like a woman in them. You have to show off your assets. For a woman that means your chest not your groin Sharon. Short steps, close together, as if you were walking on a type rope rather than sitting on a horse like John Wayne. Sissy that walk!" I practised my walk for a while until Tracey was happy with it and I felt I had mastered walking in heels. How bizarre our language is! Mastered walking in heels? As if being the master meant being the person in control! Mistressed walking in heels? Then Tracey went back downstairs. "Oh Sharon you haven't done the vacuuming! Was it that much to ask Sharon? Look before you do that I think you should take the net curtains down as they need a clean and with you looking so feminine maybe we could do with something in the house looking more masculine!" As I started to take down the curtains I suddenly realised how exposed I was standing on one three inch heel on the stepladder as I leant over to unhook the curtain from the window giving a good view of my cleavage to any man passing by outside. I sensed Tracey behind me and looked round to see her take a picture of me and realised my panties, suspenders and fishnet stocking tops would have been clearly visible as she took the shot and I tried to cover myself and almost fell off the ladder doing so. Next before I could do the vacuuming Tracey handed me a feather duster and showed me how to use it. "It's important you dust before you vacuum, Sharon as otherwise you will simply have to vacuum everything again." I realised that this was the classic fetish film, the French Maid with the duster, so I was far from convinced that the film Tracey was taking of "my husband doing the dusting" was as much about her husband doing the dusting as about her husband being dressed as Sharon the French Maid doing the dusting. I felt humiliated as I had always wanted to film Tracey dressed like I was doing what I was doing and instead she was filming me. But what choice did I have? Someone had to do the housework and I was otherwise unemployed and I knew it would be unreasonable for me expect my breadwinner to do what I could obviously do round the house - the maid's job. I was dressed the part after all... Well I felt warmer now, although I noticed, as I walked around the house doing the vacuuming, how the dress barely covered my stocking tops and how the suspender belt would show under my skirt when I bent down or sat down and I felt a bit of a draft around my panties... I was conscious too again, whilst vacuuming, that men passing by outside might see me and I was constantly looking to the window which meant I think that I took longer than I would otherwise have done to complete the task. "You have finally done the vacuuming Sharon! I am so glad you chose to get up and get dressed as a French Maid rather than stay in bed and try to persuade me to turn you into a man again. Let me take a picture of my housemaid! She has done such a professional job. You have obviously found a job that suits the woman you are Sharon." I remembered then how I used to speak of the housework as a woman's job and realised how Tracey was using against me. I had to pose by lifting up my dress to reveal my panties, bending over and turning round so you could see my panties which did not cover all of my arse like boxer shorts did and my face and to pose for various other pictures that I have since learnt are standard pictures that supportive wives take of their crossdressing husbands. Despite my reluctance to spend a second day dressed as a woman I was starting to enjoy myself by the time Tracey showed me the pictures she had just taken of me as Sharon the French Maid and I realised that I was smiling like I had not done in years as Steve. "You know, Tracey, I haven't smiled like that in years, what do you think that means?" I asked. "You have worked for years in an all female office and it has rubbed off on you, Sharon. The feminine side of you is now more dominant than the male side because you realise that you are alone as a man and you do not want to be alone anymore. I am not sure if you want to be a woman now or in other words if you are transitioning or becoming a transexual or if you just want to become a full time transvestite or even just a part time one. If you decide to become a transexual I will do what I can to support you and I will pay for your operation but it could spell the end of our marriage. I have a thing about transvestites and I have always thought you were a repressed transvestite, probably because you have been mentally clinging to misguided notions of what it is to be "manly", but I am not sure I could live with a post operative transexual as I am not a lesbian. What do you think of my analysis?" "I am starting to think you are right. I am not sure that I want to become a full time transvestite or even a part time one though." "I think you may be in denial because it was hard to get you to accept your femininity in the first place Sharon, so, look, you are going to change clothes this afternoon and go and buy yourself enough lingerie for a fortnight, (that's bras, panties, slips, suspenders, hosiery and nightwear) and your first dress, a blouse and a mini-skirt. You are also to buy yourself three changes of shoes. The heels can be as high as you like but not less than three inches. I am insisting you do this as it is important you face what you are and part of you still wants to hide or deny this like a child behind his mother's petticoats. Some of the time you can dress as a man over the next week but you must always dress as a woman around the house. As soon as you taste sperm you must accept that you are to throw away your male clothes and become at least a full time transvestite if not a transexual and you will work for me, as a waitress, in my bar. If you decide to remain a part time transvestite you can look for a job as a man but at least half the week you must wear at least hosiery and panties under your male clothes but I will allow you to remove the fake breasts when you pretend to dress as a man." "Ok, it's a deal," I said, not realising this meant I was actually going to be dressed as a woman when I went shopping. "Because you are even now trying to find ways out of this I think this had better be put in writing with a picture of you, dressed as you are appended to the agreement. I will type it out for you." She typed: "I, Stephen, the husband of Tracey Belle, hereby renounce my maiden name and declare that I now wish to be known from this day forward as Steve Belle when I crossdress as a man and Sharon Belle when I dress as my true self. Furthermore I agree that I will use such amount of my salary and other monies that my wife Tracey gives to me to pay for any additional items as I am directed to purchase to ensure I have an appropriate wardrobe for my duties as a maid in this household and at all other times. I accept that I am at least a repressed transvestite if not a repressed transexual. I accept that once I taste my own sperm or that of another man that this is an acknowledgement by me that I formally renounce the right to crossdress as a man and wish from henceforth to only dress as the woman I am. If I renounce my rights to dress as a man I agree to work as a waitress for my wife Tracey Belle until such time as she decides to dispense with my services or that we are divorced. In recognition of this declaration an agreement is made between me and my wife Tracey Belle that if she decides that I am not a transvestite but in fact a repressed Transexual that she, Tracey Belle, will pay the full costs of my operation and have grounds to divorce me with my consent and that neither she nor I will have rights to any of the assets of the other party save that this clause does not preclude a future contract of employment between the parties post operation if so desired. In case in the future I try to pretend that I am not at least a transvestite if not a transexual pictures are appended to this agreement showing me dressed as my true self in the clothing I myself chose to wear this day under which I am wearing fake breasts and a pink silk bra matching the panties visible in the said pictures, it being duly agreed between the parties that the happy look on my face is because these clothes are clothes that I prefer to wear as opposed to what are normally considered by convention to be standard male clothing. Signed Sharon Belle. Stephen Belle. Tracey Belle." We both signed the agreement. We had lunch and Tracey then found me a one shoulder black bodycon dress to wear which stopped just short of my knees and a pair of black three inch pumps. On one side the dress had a sleeve that went down to my wrists but on the other my shoulder and arm were bare. Tracey insisted I wear a bracelet on that wrist before she took one further picture to add to the agreement. "Off you go!" she said putting my wallet in her handbag and asking me to hold it for her. I suddenly realised she intended me to go out dressed like this and was frightened to go out. What if someone made me? Tracey gave me the car keys and gently led me out the door. What if the neighbours see me I thought. "Tracey!" I said nervously turning to her to find she had shut the door and pulled the chain across. "I will let you back in when you have been shopping Sharon!" my wife called out. "By the way you could do with a fresh coat of lipstick. There's a compact and a lipstick in your handbag!" So I minced over to the car trying to look as feminine as possible all the time feeling nervous about what the neighbours would say and feeling certain that curtains were twitching. I got into the car and then looked down at my fishnet encased legs as the lower part of my dress was now revealing more of my upper legs than I thought it would and I could feel the breeze just below my panties. I put my handbag on the passenger seat and found the lipstick but not the mirror. I adjusted the rear view mirror so I could see my lips as I applied the crimson lipstick Tracey had given me and adjusted the mirror again. How was I going to drive in heels? It turned out that it was fairly easy, but each time I had to stop at lights I felt I saw men peering at my legs through the window. I was also constantly glancing down at my legs whilst also keeping my eyes on the road. I was sure at least one woman I drove past had made me as she turned her head to follow my car driving off and was saying something to her boyfriend and smiling. He looked nervous. I had an idea what she had just told him! I was also worried about being stopped by the police as I knew that I should not be driving in heels and if I was stopped I knew that a policeman was certain to make me even if only because my driving license indicated that I was a man. When I got to the shopping centre I remembered how journalists were always taking upskirt shots of women getting out of cars so I carefully swivelled out in case anyone was watching. It turned out no-one was. I was also conscious of how I was walking remembering Tracey had explained "Short steps, legs close together and chest out. Show off your assets and sissy that walk!" It turned out it was fairly easy to walk like a woman whilst wearing three inch heels and it would have been harder to walk like a man! When I got to the department store I noticed a number of nervous furtive men were buying lingerie and dresses for their "wives" (well I couldn't tell whether it was genuinely for their wives or not). I felt a bond with them, like I was not alone in this desire to dress as my true self but the clothes I was wearing provided a barrier between us. I looked like a woman so I was more confident than these men. I found out it was easier than these other men to select clothes for myself until I got to the counter when the cashier said: "It looks like someone is buying a new wardrobe!" I wondered if she had made me and was about to make a scene. I needn't have worried. If she had made me she did not make a scene and I was soon back in my car heading home again very conscious of my dress and the stockings I was wearing and my heels but less worried about the police stopping me or of the twitching curtains as it was now dark. As I drove up to the house I felt confident but panic hit me as Tracey turned on the light by our front door and I realised how bright it was and I was once more nervous about twitching curtains and what was being said behind closed doors. Tracey was delighted with my wardrobe, once she had eventually opened the front door and had let me in she had me catwalk my selection starting with her filming me and saying, "Here is Sharon our new lingerie model, gentlemen!" as I had to model all of my lingerie and the the rest of my outfits. It was then I realised that I had got carried away and bought myself more than Tracey told me to. In fact it was only when I looked at the receipt again I realised I had blown about half my salary. I told Tracey, "Don't worry that's more than enough to buy your make-up Sharon!" "But what about the bills?" "You forget I am the breadwinner, the "man" of the house!" Tracey replied. "I think your shopping trip shows you need a reward" she said leading me to the bedroom and pushing me on to the bed before lifting my skirt and giving me my first ever blow job. But then she was on top of me and forcing her tongue between my lips as this hot liquid flowed down into my mouth and I found myself swallowing my own sperm. Then she had me lick her out before saying something about that I must now make arrangements to dispose of my horrible old clothing and I would start work on Monday but she would see that I was given some training before I drifted off to sleep. A few hour later Tracey woke me. "Sharon, it's time for you to get ready for work. Get dressed and put on your uniform!" I had been dreaming that I was at work at my last job, Suddenly there had been a powercut and when the lights came back on I was at my desk but I was no longer wearing my suit but just the bra and panties Tracey had had me wear on Friday night. One of the girls had turned to speak to me: "Steve, oh my god! Put some clothes on! You'll catch your death in just your undies! Don't worry we always knew you were one of the girls!" and then all the office was laughing at me. "What? But I don't work weekends!" I replied. "Sharon! That was when you were Steve. You are Sharon now. Don't you remember you handed in your notice and then you agreed you would now be known as Sharon and you will be working for me now?" "Oh wait yes, I remember handing in my notice, but I thought we agreed I was only going to be a part-time transvestite until I tasted sperm and then I would acknowledge I am a full time transvestite and work for you?" "And you don't remember drinking it all up after I sucked you off and we kissedladt night?" "But you forced me to Tracey!" "Does it say anything in the agreement about me forcing you to drink sperm invalidating the agreement Sharon? Anyway it was quite obvious when you got carried away with your shopping trip that you were never going to be happy as a part-time transvestite, were you Sharon?" Tracey said showing me the agreement I had signed. "Yes,you are right Tracey. It's just going to take me some time to get used to being Sharon, Tracey. But you are right," I said looking at myself in the mirror and putting on my lipstick before brushing my hair. "Steve has gone and I am Sharon, now. I am Sharon and will never answer to "Steve" again!" I stepped into my French Maid's dress that was clearly meant to be my uniform and looked over at Tracey, who was wearing a white blouse and a trousered suit as I put my arms through the shoulders and straightened up my dress as best I could. Although Tracey is a beautiful woman, her short hair and outfit looked more masculine than mine I thought, as I held up my ponytail and said, "Could you zip me please, Tracey?" She firmly took the zip in her hand and pulled it up tight before tying the bow on my white apron. Right then as she did my zip up and helped me into my apron i felt like she was now the "man of the house" and in control. I had become a housewife I told myself as I adjusted my cap in the mirror. "It's time you earned your shopping money, Sharon!" Mentally I was trying to take control of the situation, but how could I? It was beyond me as I had signed away my right to quit my job without leaving my wife and if I did I would walk away with no money and a large collection of women's clothes and I neither wanted to walk away from my wife nor who I now recognised I had become. I had not thought I would find myself here so quickly or indeed at all. I had to let go of my old masculine identity and recognise that I was either meant to be a chick with a dick or possibly even a woman now. So pulled on a Macintosh which Tracey insisted I buttoned the other way "like a real woman" to cover my uniform and got into the car with Tracey to drive to work. Tracey insisted on driving. So I found myself in the "wife" seat. It was time to meet my new colleagues. It turned out that Tracey's bar was more of a club as I was expected to be both a barmaid and a waitress. Tracey explained that she was an equal opportunities employer and whilst most of the kitchen staff were women they were not expected to dress like them but the bar staff were all, with the exception of Tracey, expected to dress as French Maids. In my first week front of house I was teamed up with Marie. Marie was a real woman and was quite amused to be joined by a rookie male waitress. She looked stunning with her long black hair and gold hoop earrings. I admired her earrings and told her as much. It soon became apparent that despite looking a stunning woman she was stronger than me. Before the bar opened Marie asked me to pull a pint. I found I did not have the strength in my arms to do so and was impressed at how easily Marie did it. Marie said I had better be "front of house" which meant I would be getting a lot more attention from the customers than she did behind the bar as I would be serving the tables. She gave me a tray with some plates on and watched me serve an empty table. Marie told me that when I served plates I should pass the plates to the nearest customer to avoid flashing my cleavage at them and showing those behind me my panties and suspenders as I had just done in this trial run. She also gave me a white lace choker which was held in place with a black ribbon. It matched my dress she told me. Somehow the fact that we were dressed the same meant a bond formed between Marie and I quite quickly. Even though we were both dressed as French Maids we both found both each other (and the female customers) attractive. It turned out Marie was a lesbian but she found me attractive as I reminded her of her last girlfriend who also had a ponytail like mine and knowing that I was a man meant she was now questioning her own sexuality. "I didn't realise men could be so attractive!" she said. "You are every bit as sexy as my last girlfriend and if you were not the boss's husband I would want to sleep with you." I didn't tell her the feeling was mutual as I whilst I found her really attractive I did not intend to cheat on Tracey. At the end of a hard Saturday night Marie proposed a shopping trip with me on Sunday. I used to frown on shopping on Sunday as I considered it to be a day of rest when I would go to church with Tracey but tomorrow I fancied a day off. Now I had become Sharon I was not so sure I would fit in at church. What would they make of a transvestite like me when they were already involved with various political groups which campaigned against gay rights? I didn't have any male clothing left! I told Marie I would go shopping with her if Tracey didn't mind. Tracey said she didn't as long as Marie and I did not get up to anything and remembered that I was Tracey's wife. Marie promised to keep her hands off me. The next day I put on my black one shoulder bodycon dress and some heels and was just doing my make-up when a biker in black leather showed up at the door. She took off her helmet and I realised it was Marie. "That's not the most practical outfit on a bike!" Marie said. "But you look sexy in it!" It turned out she had a pink leather outfit in her box and a pink helmet which belonged to her last girlfriend but had been returned to her when they split up. She assured me she had had it all washed. "Try it on," she said. I found I could not fit the dress into the trousers, which were quite tight so I had to pull up the dress into my jacket. So I now stood next to Marie in her black leathers wearing her ex-girlfriend's pink leather suit and a pink helmet. The effect made me look like the girlfriend of the black leathered biker, particularly as I was wearing heels and Marie wasn't. Marie showed me how to hold onto her as I sat behind her on the bike. When we got to town Marie had me strip out of the biker's kit which she locked away in the box on the bike. Then she told me to check my make up in the mirror, which I did before putting on a fresh coat of lipstick and mascara as Marie smoked a cigarette before offering me one. I hadn't smoked before and I coughed on my first puff. Marie laughed. "Amy coughed like that when I introduced her to smoking!" I looked at the way my lipstick left a mark round the filter and tried to look ladylike as I smoked with the cigarette between my index and big fingers. "I have a surprise for you," Marie said, taking me to a jewellery store and asking to collect the gift she had ordered and it turned out she had bought me earrings just like hers and arranged for me to have my ears pierced right now. I was hesitant. This was a dramatic step. It felt significant but Marie encouraged me and I soon had studs in each ear and instructions on when I could wear my earrings for the first time. I thanked Marie for making this girl feel special and after some make-up shopping she took me home. Tracey was delighted I had had my ears pierced but said she hoped Marie wouldn't go getting me to have the operation if I did not want to myself. On my first few nights as a waitress plenty of men got an eyeful of my cleavage and my suspenders as it took me some time to get used to serving a table properly when the bar got busy. I also realised how the way I was dressed both meant I was getting good tips but also having my backside slapped and groped by a lot of the customers. Initially I did not know how to respond to this apart from to go rather red but eventually Marie and I worked out a system whereby one of us would accidentally bump into the other causing ice water to be spilt on several of our male customers with wandering hands. We wouldn't do that to our female customers, though, as we would both be turned on by another woman touching each of us and it turned out the male customers enjoyed watching what they felt to be "lesbian action". I also enjoyed watching a woman grope Marie as much as she did watching a woman grope me and obviously being front of house I was more the object of desire or groping than the watcher. After a few weeks a new girl joined us. She was called Vicki. She was blonde and also had a ponytail like mine. She was also unable to pull a pint so I was given the job of training her to join me front of house. I noticed from the trial run that she was also a transvestite. I told Marie. Marie was surprised it had taken me so long to notice. "How did you notice?" I asked Marie. "Adam's apple," she replied. "Tell 'her' to wear a choker like yours," Tracey said passing me a spare choker. I had to then tell Vicki that although I was now Sharon I used to be Steve and that "she" had better wear a choker like mine. Over the course of the next week or two Tracey let Marie wear a longer dress behind the bar so she looked more like a barmaid and put her officially in charge of the front of the house. Vicki confided in me that she had had a bet with "her" girlfriend Pilare about transvestites. Vicki said that she bet that there were no men dressed as women in town one evening when a nervous man in a black one shoulder bodycon dress drove past. As a result of that she had to spend her first night crossdressed. Pilare wasn't the same as Tracey though and had only meant this to be a one night thing. Vicki quickly realised that she enjoyed being Vicki more than she enjoyed being with Pilare and they had split up. This left her available for Marie who had confided in me that she also fancied Vicki. Vicki was getting groped more than me and for a while Marie and I enjoyed watching her being groped by the customers until one day Marie told me the ice water had better make a comeback as she and Vicki were now an item. Although Marie suspected I was the man in the bodycon dress I have not yet confirmed this to her. Vicki has not seen the man again and now wonders if it was her fairy godmother. So have I decided who I am? Well, the truth is I am not sure, am I a fairy godmother, a chick with a dick or a transexual or a combination of one or all of them?