Intervention
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Intervention free porn video
Intervention
By Rosie
"Oh, hi, Erica Anna," I said, surprised to see my wife's assistant at
the door, "Caroline's not home."
"I know," she said, "I've come to speak to you."
"Oh?" I said. Without waiting for an invitation, the tall, burly girl
brushed past me, handing me her coat in the process. I had no choice but
to trail after her, stopping only to hang her coat.
A frequent guest to our house, she made herself at home by the time I
warily joined her in the living room. She sat on the good sofa, slouched
slightly forward. She was wearing a black, short sleeved top that openly
displayed her thick arms. The striking contrast of the pale skin against
the black fabric captured my eyes for more than a moment and I found
myself wandering, as so many times before, how much of that thickness
was down to fat, and how much to muscles.
"Can I get you something to drink?" I asked.
"Not right now," she said.
"OK," I said, "what is it you want to talk about?"
"I think you know," she said, with a sly smile.
"I'm sorry, but I don't, Erica Anna," I said, trying to hide my
exasperation as I pronounced her both names, like she had always
insisted on. As if it was not enough that I had endure her presence when
my wife was around, now this base, yet pretentious girl who to me was
the most prominent symbol of the changes brought on by my wife's career,
was now invading my free time.
"You've been spending an awful lot of time preparing for a fancy dress
party lately," she said.
"Oh, that," I muttered, seething inwardly. She was referring to the
occasions when I was dressed as a woman while she was at our house, for
some reason or other. Frankly, I was surprised that she had taken note
of that at all, since she had always appeared to be so taken by
Caroline.
"I have also noticed that Caroline and you have been fighting a lot,
recently," she added.
As her new career started to take off, Caroline was getting more
aggressive at home, too, which I was not prepared for. The ferocity of
our arguments kept escalating until the breaking point. What seemed to
be yet another argument about some trivial thing made Caroline turn all
her guns on me. From her closet, she pulled out a dress and would not
relent until I put it on. After what seemed an eternity of screaming,
slamming of doors and even some pushing and shoving, I finally relented
and put on the dress over my underwear. It was a humiliating ordeal that
had me in tears for most of the time, and I swore to myself I'd never go
through something like that again. Not long after, though, I wore the
dress again, and this time with all the trimmings, as Caroline made me
cross-dress for her company's Halloween party. I couldn't decide what
was more embarrassing, Caroline's discrete yet persistent dropping of
hints of my true identity, or that, without her aid, no one could
realize I was not a woman. Ever since, all of our arguments ended with
Caroline forcing me to put on her clothes. While she didn't seem to be
bothered about keeping my punishments private, at least she didn't
reveal the true reason behind my cross dressing, leaving me to explain
to the bemused visitors to our house that I was practicing for a fancy
dress party. Humiliating as it was, I still found it better than
admitting that I was forced to wear dresses by my wife. Moreover,
practicing for a fancy dress party had always seemed like a plausible
cover up, especially as I could always count on a future public event I
would have to attend as a woman, whether it was an actual fancy dress
party or not. It certainly seemed to appease most people who only saw me
from time to time, including my mother. While sceptical at first, once
having seen pictures of me from the actual party, she agreed that it did
indeed made sense to practice beforehand, and that I made a very
convincing woman. Still, I was constantly worried that someone might see
through this excuse. I had just never thought that my wife's assistant
had the intellect, or the interest, to figure it out.
"What goes on between my wife and I is none of your business," I said
dryly, taking care not to sound disrespectful, and at the same time
wondering if Erica Anna indeed knew the true reason behind my cross
dressing.
"That's where you're wrong, see," she said, "it literally is my
business."
I let my anger get the best of me.
"I'm sorry, but I find it very difficult to believe that Caroline sent
you here to snoop into our marriage," I spat.
"She didn't," she said, "she didn't have to. Caroline is not my boss."
"Oh no?" I said angrily. "Who is, then?"
"Caroline is my co-worker," she replied calmly, "My boss is the same as
hers, the CEO of the company."
"Really?" I said sarcastically. "And the CEO happened to tell you to
come here tonight."
"I realize this is upsetting to you," she began.
"You're my wife's personal assistant," I hissed at her. "Don't let it
get to your head. And don't stick your nose where it fucking doesn't
belong."
Retaining her calmness, she gave me an icy stare that quickly made me
realize I had pushed too far. After waiting for another moment, she
continued with the same restrained composure.
"Caroline has her position with its job description, and I have mine. My
job," she said, "Is to make sure that there are no obstacles which would
prevent Caroline from focusing on her job. In other words, my job is to
help Caroline to live, and function, up to her full potential, and it's
clear to me that this won't happen until she is distracted by what's
going on in her marriage. So I'm here to make that stop."
I swallowed hard.
"How?" I asked weakly.
"Be honest with me, Simon," she said, with a kinder tone. "There is no
fancy dress party, is there?"
I looked at her pleadingly.
"There will be one," I said. "Eventually."
"Simon, please," she smiled, "be honest with yourself. This has been
going on for long enough."
I took a deep, sighing breath. In a way, it made sense that Erica Anna
would be the one to figure out the truth, despite not being the sharpest
tool in the shed. For one thing, she was a frequent visitor to our
house, so she had a lot of opportunities to pick up on what was going
on. Come to think of it, I wouldn't even be surprised it if turned out
that it was Caroline who told her everything. Even though she Erica Anna
was her assistant, her own claims notwithstanding, she did have a
remarkable influence over my wife.
"Erica Anna, look..." I began, but she stopped me.
"You don't have to explain," she said, "I know your sort."
"I'm sorry," I said, flabbergasted. "My sort?"
"You're kind of men," she smiled, then added boastingly, "I've done my
research. I've read about this, and I would like to say it up front that
there's nothing wrong with wanting to be a woman."
With my mouth agape in astonishment, it took all of my concentration to
keep from breaking out in a smile as a wave of relief swept over me. The
fool girl didn't know anything, after all. A sense of panic crept back
up my spine nonetheless. Erica Anna was not the sort of person I would
trust with such a notion. Still, my secret was safe, and all I had to do
now was to humour Erica Anna before my wife came home and set things
straight.
"I realize that it might appear that way," I said, trying to stop her,
but she didn't seem to hear me.
"And frankly, in your case it only makes perfect sense to be a woman,
anyhow," she said matter-of-factly.
I looked at her bluntly.
"I beg your pardon?" I said.
"Oh come on, look at yourself," she said, "you don't look very macho, do
you? You're short and thin, and you've got these soft manners about you.
You'll fit in as a woman way better than you ever could as a man."
"Well thank you for this... encouragement," I said, not altogether
without bitterness, "but I assure you that I in fact don't want to
become a woman."
"Well, I can assure you that you do," she said, "I've told you that I've
read about it. A lot of men who became women didn't know it was what
they wanted until quite late in their lives. In fact, they had no idea
about it until, by some chance or other, they dressed up as a woman for
the first time. They realized they liked it, kept doing it until finally
transitioning."
I cringed inwardly at the emphasis she put on that word.
"Be that as it may," I said again, but she didn't listen this time
either.
"That's what's happened with you," she stated confidently.
"What, exactly?" I asked.
"At the Halloween party last year, when you dressed up as a woman," she
said, "That's when you realized you liked it. Since then, you've been
trying on Caroline's clothes more and more. Now, you're dressing up
almost every other day. Meanwhile, your marriage suffers."
Based on what she had seen, it was hard to argue with that logic.
"Before we discuss this further," she said, before I could think of an
effective counterargument to her reasoning, "I think it's time you
changed in proper clothes."
I felt my heart skip a beat as I weighted my options. After what she had
just said, putting on women's clothes would play right into her way of
seeing things and make it harder to argue it wasn't accurate.
"I don't know if that's such a good idea," I said weakly.
"Well, I'm not leaving until you do," she said.
On the other hand, she had seen me dressed up several times before. As
far as she was concerned, I had been dressing up on my own accord and so
dressing up one more time would in fact change nothing about her
perception. Moreover, in the time it would take me to change, Caroline
would surely be home already.
"If you insist..." I said. "But it might take a while."
"I do," she replied. "And I can give you a hand if you have any
trouble."
With the unspoken threat handing in the air, I hurried off to the
bedroom. While Caroline has long since stopped telling me specifically
which clothes she wanted me to wear, there was no doubt that she
preferred me in gauzy dresses, full skirts and frilly blouses, so I
dressed accordingly. But seeing how I wasn't going to dress up on her
demand this time, I thought I could try something different. Instead of
a frilly dress, I opted for a smart charcoal grey skirt suit that had
caught my attention a couple of days ago and I remembered wondering if
I'd feel any less hopelessly dominated by my wife if I wore something
like that instead of my frilly dresses. It did feel different, however,
the pastel blue blouse that I paired it with, with its frilled bodice
and by revealing my teal lace trimmed lingerie, did a lot to diminish
the severity of the suit.
Erica Anna nodded in approval when I got back.
"Feels much better now, doesn't it?" she said.
"I don't know," I said sheepishly.
"Simon," she said, taking both of my arms in hers, "you have every right
to be happy."
The sincerity of her voice moved me almost to tears, and I felt a pang
of guilt for not having been more honest with her from the beginning.
"But Caroline deserves to be happy, too," she continued, and a sense of
panic struck into me. Instinctively, I tried to pull my hands back in my
lap, but they were immobilized by Erica Anna's vicelike grip.
"What... what do you mean?" I asked. "Isn't she happy?"
"Do the fights you've been having make it look like she's happy?" she
said. "It's time you put a stop to it. And I'm here to make sure that
you do."
"By dressing up even more?" I asked, incredulously.
"Caroline needs stability in her life," Erica Anna said. "Of course she
owes you her support, but in the end, your home is where she turns to
for support, too. It's clear to me that the strain of your transition is
already taking its toll, what with all the fights you've been having
recently. Caroline deserves not having to deal with the uncertainty and
the stress of living with a husband who is constantly flipping between a
man and a woman. It's time for you to finish your transition, Simon."
"Or I could just stop dressing up altogether?" I feebly offered.
"Oh, Simon," Erica Anna smiled at me, "you owe it, if not to yourself,
then to those you share your life with, to be honest with yourself. It
is not just to yourself that you're lying, but to your wife as well. I'm
here to help you in that feat of honesty, in becoming a woman."
For all of the power and executive attitude it radiated, it did not help
to wear my wife's skirt suit for this conversation. I realized that
holding out until Caroline got home would be much harder than I had
thought.
"I know that you've read this is how it happens," I said warily. "But
it's not unheard of that some men dress up as women without actually
wanting to become women. At least not the whole time. Just for fun, you
know? Become a woman, maybe, but just temporarily?"
"I have heard of that," Erica Anna replied. "But as I've said, Caroline
can't have temporary solutions, based on what's fun or not in the whim
of a moment. She needs permanent solutions."
"Just for the sake of argument," I said, "How can you be sure I'm not
one of these men? That I don't actually want to become a woman? You did
say that my happiness was important, too."
"Well, I do have to give you the benefit of doubt, don't I?" she said.
"So here's what I'll do. Did you know that before they allow a man to
undergo sex reassignment surgery, they have a test to make sure it's
what he really wants?"
Her words send a chill up my spine. Sex reassignment surgery? I wasn't
gently pulling against her, anymore, I was wildly bucking at her hands,
trying to get away, but she kept her grip. Eventually, I had to accept
that I was not going to get away from her and sat down again, this time
right next to her.
"Do you know what the test is?" she asked me, as if nothing out of the
ordinary had just been going on.
"No," I replied defeated.
"It's really clever," she quipped, "They make him live as a woman for a
set period of time, like a year or so. This is what I'm going to do with
you. You will live as a woman for a year, and then, if you're certain
it's not what you want, you can go back to being a man."
Although still too shocked to speak, I was relieved that at least she
did not have the worst planned for me. A couple of moments passed and as
my heartbeat slowly returned to normal, I realized that nothing had
really changes. I still only needed to make Erica Anna think I was
engaging in the conversation while waiting for Caroline to come home and
put an end to this nonsense, although I couldn't see as clearly how she
would do that as before. At the same time, I couldn't help but wonder
how Caroline and me would settle our arguments if I did dress like a
woman the whole time.
"What about my work?" I asked carefully.
The only place I was safe from Caroline's punishments was at work, which
remained my sole sanctuary of my masculinity and independence, despite
the fact that my salary was now transferred directly to Caroline's
account, to which I had no access to.
"What about it?" she replied.
"I can't just show up as a woman, can I?" I said.
"Actually, I don't see why you couldn't," she replied. "There are laws
which prevent them from firing you over that, and even if they did, or
you didn't want to work there anymore, you can always count on an
opening in our company."
The assertiveness of her voice made me realize that this was not just
some wild fantasy anymore.
"As a woman?" I asked.
"What else?" she asked. "Actually, with you employed by our company, it
would be much easier for me to help you with all that you'll need to
do."
"What do you mean?" I said, worriedly.
"I'll help you change your official documents," she explained. "And your
health plan would cover certain medical procedures, even surgical ones."
"Surgery?" I whinced.
"Well," she said, "More like cosmetic procedures. Facial hair removal,
some botox, nothing serious."
"But why?" I said. "Isn't this going to be just a test?"
"Of course it is," she said. "But you need to go through it as a woman,
not as a man dressed like one."
"I see," I muttered absently.
"Now, I understand you call yourself Simone," she said.
"That's what Caroline calls me," I replied.
"Too close to Simon," she retorted. "Susan is a much more suitable name.
Susan Margaret Perkins."
"Perkins?" I repeated my wife's maiden name, which she had taken to use
professionally lately.
"You do want to remain being married to Caroline, don't you?" she said.
"Shouldn't we discuss this all with Caroline, first?" I asked, in a last
ditch attempt to solve the situation at least partially by myself.
"I will," she said, "later on. Though don't worry about Caroline, she
will know that what you will do is the right thing for her."
"How can you say that without talking to her first?" I asked.
"Caroline and I have a special relationship," she said, "I don't have a
job because I'd know a lot about retail or logistics or marketing like
Caroline does. I have a job because I know what a person needs, and what
a person wants much better than they know it themselves. I won't deny
that Caroline often struggles to accept what I tell her, but in the end
she always does, and she always benefits from it. She is able to do a
better job, and that is all that matters in the end."
"I do hope that we will be able to form the same sort of relationship,"
she went on. "And in a way, I feel that we have already started. But, as
Caroline will tell you, I do need to you to acknowledge your acceptance
of this relationship."
"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" I said.
"Smart girl," she smiled.
"How do you want me to acknowledge it?" I asked.
"We will perform a ceremony," she said, "A highly symbolic one though at
the same time I often find it very practical. You might find it a tad
embarrassing, but I promise you that I will be as dignified about it as
possible."
Wordlessly, I nodded.
"Stand beside me, please," she said.
Obediently, I stood up, smoothing down my skirt. Erica Anna straightened
herself on the sofa, uncrossed her legs, pressed her knees together and,
looking me straight in the eye, patted her lap.
With hot tears of humiliation welling up behind my eyes, I lowered
myself across the knees of my wife's assistant for a ceremonial
spanking. Just as she succeeded to hike up my tight skirt and reveal my
panties, I heard the hallway door open.
"Try to keep count," Erica Anna said cheerfully, "Caroline usually cries
at the sixth stroke, don't you, Caroline?"
With my satin clad behind exposed, I glared at the ashen faced figure of
my wife in the corner of the living room. Suddenly, I was not feeling so
much humiliated as cheated, and tricked into letting myself be spanked
by my wife's assistant, and dressed in my wife's clothes. Determined not
to give either of the women the satisfaction of crying, I clenched my
teeth, thought the force of the first blow caught me by surprise and I
twitched in pain, bucking my head. When I raised my eyes up to the
hallway door, Caroline was nowhere to be seen anymore. I felt disgusted
by the fact that the same authoritarian woman who, with the threat of
spanking, had been forcing me to put on dresses, was for all that time
being spanked herself, by a girl half her age. Even though waiting for
the second blow seemed to take an eternity, it landed on my buttocks
before the pain of the first one had fully subsided. I couldn't help but
audibly draw a sharp breath as my body, again, involuntarily shook and
contorted. Keeping my head down, I noticed Caroline sit down at the
opposing sofa. The look in her eyes was not the look of force and
determination I had come to know, but a strange, frightened look of a
woman wondering if she was next in line for the same treatment that I
was just receiving. A sense of dread crept over me as I realized that
Caroline's presence would not even a little change the fact I was
completely at Erica Anna's mercy. I realized that this was no time to
try to impress my suddenly irrelevant wife with my stubbornness.
Instead, I needed to make Erica Anna aware I was acknowledging our
special relationship while I, at the same time acknowledged that I would
indeed be living as a woman from now on. At the third blow, I waved my
arms and kicked my legs theatrically, and let out an not altogether
faked high pitched, girlish scream. Then, the tears started to flow.
Charlize
- 14.02.2021
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