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What do I do now? Cross dressing is like a chigger bite. Once bitten, you can ignore it only so long. Eventually, you have to give in to the itch. The first scratch feels like bliss. Every scratch afterwards can lead to complications. Sam Williams was raised in the deep south in a small-town south of Atlanta by ultraconservative fundamentalist Christian parents. That meant weekly Wednesday evening bible study classes, Sunday school indoctrination, followed by a service conducted by a hell and brimstone preacher. Sam never really bought into the personal savior doctrine, but went along with it in order to get along. There was enough ingrained in his personality he tried to live by the ethical code of the bible under the threat of spending eternity in hell. Sam was bitten by the dressing bug when he was 13. His parents were off to another interminable bible study class. There was an Atlanta Braves ballgame he wanted to listen to, so he feigned a headache to stay home. As soon as his parents and older sister went off to Bible study, Sam grabbed a couple of cokes and sat down to watch the game. The game got called for rain in the third inning, the cokes had worked their way through him, so he found himself in the bathroom. Sitting on the pot, he noticed his mother's bra hung over the shower rod, drying. To this day, he had no idea why he was drawn to it. Like most 13-year- old males he had a breast fixation. He dumped his shirt and just had to try it on. Getting the hooks secured properly took several minutes but, eventually, he was successfully. The empty cups looked silly, so he stuffed his mother's bullet bra with toilet paper. Posturing in front of the mirror, his heart leaped in his chest he suddenly had the figure of a pinup model. He saw his mother's lipstick just sitting there on the counter. Opening it, the first thing that hit him was the smell. It was like the Siren call of Greece mythology, he was drawn to it, even if it led to his eventual downfall. He coated his lips dark red with the waxy substance. His mother was a blonde woman going onto gray, so red had always been her shade of choice. Thus, it was Sam's from that moment on. The transformation from a geeky teenager to a mature sexy woman was magical. He couldn't tear himself away from the mirror. It was the birth of Samantha. That was all it took; the need to look like a woman was firmly implanted in his psyche. That was it, he was hooked. Whenever he was alone, he would get the urge to dress even though his old Sunday classes would haunt him. Deuteronomy says, 'God commands that a woman is not to wear that which pertains to a man and a man is not to wear that which pertains to a woman, for all that do so are an abomination.' Despite the guilt he felt when he dressed, Sam would go through the dirty clothes hamper and pick out his mother's clothes. She was a typical 50's housewife and always dressed the part. To this day, drab housewife's outfits held a special place in his heart. As he got older, his mother's clothes lost their thrill and he moved on to raiding his sisters' wardrobe. They were so much sexier. She had a waist cincher that was a devil to get hooked up but once done, he had the waist of a cheerleader. Then with the addition of the stuffed bra, the teenager had the distinctly feminine shape he desired. He would then force his feet into his mother's high heeled pumps. He would just parade around the house pretending he was a woman preparing to go out to a dance club. By the time he outgrew her shoes he was quite accomplished in walking and even dancing in heels. @ @ @ @ After college, he was on his own to dress at home freely and he took full advantage of his opportunities. He never had the nerve or confidence in his appearance to leave the security of his apartment though. He developed a small collection of dresses that had the same thing in common, they were all house dresses. There was just something about that style that spoke to him. After about six months of living alone, he met a woman. Beth was a friend of a friend, who stole his heart. She was attractive but nothing spectacular. At first, he was attracted to her for her body. She was a tall large-boned woman at 5'7" standing just one inch shorter than him. She had a few extra pounds, but to Sam, that was an attraction and not a turn off. Their relationship started as friends; they went everywhere as a couple as they seemed to have similar interests. After dating for several months, Sam invited Beth to his place for a home cooked meal. He planned on ending the evening in his bedroom, so he was forced to purged all of his Samantha stuff. This was not the first time he had gone through a purge. Each time it was like saying goodbye to an old friend. The night went better than he had ever imagined. The sex was impulsive and heart stopping. Sam had a climax like nothing he had ever experienced. They meshed like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Beth seemed to know what he wanted before he did. Sam wasn't going to let this woman get away. They married about five months later. Sam landed a management job in the local Savings and Loan. In the ensuing twelve years, Sam had risen to be the branch manager. The job was less than challenging, but it paid well. The money was the reason Sam stayed at the job. Time had crept up on him while he wasn't looking and he was now on the verge of middle-age. There were so many things he wanted to do before he got too old. He felt like his life was being spent just marking time and only going through the motions. Just like his marriage. The first few years of married life was everything he had imagined. The sex was like a firework rocket. At first it was spectacular, but it reached its climax around year five. Then in a fiery finish, it just died away. Then Beth's aunt died and left her a small boutique in town. From the beginning, had Beth made no bones about it; housework was not her thing. The store seemed a blessing at first, Beth turning all her energies toward running the store. She left early in the morning and came home dog tired. Sam hired a maid to help her out. The first one didn't work out and, over the months, they went through a long line of maids. Sam seemed to find fault with each and every one of them. Beth did not care as long as she didn't have to do anything at home other than eat, bathe and sleep. Sam complained about the maids. From sloppy work to showing up late to stealing to getting into their private things. Like most commercial stores, Beth's boutique was open all day Saturday, necessitating her being gone six days a week from dawn to dusk. Sam worked a standard five day work week, so he volunteered to do all the housework on Saturdays, making it appear to be a big sacrifice. Inside, he was doing the happy dance, as it gave him the opportunity to play Suzie Homemaker. Playing at being domestic - and dressing the part was his greatest joy in life now. Sam used the weekends to do a thorough cleaning of the house. It took years of hard work before the boutique managed to break even. Doing without a lot of luxuries like vacations, Sam's income was enough to keep it afloat. Because it was open every Saturday, Sam spent the time being Samantha. As soon as Beth left, he would get his Samantha things out of his locked footlocker in his garage workroom. One thing never changed, no matter how many times he did it. Nervous butterflies would always fill his belly as he headed to his wife's closet to select something appropriate. Most days he would dress in drab outfits suitable for cleaning. Beth had numerous housedresses that reminded Sam of the time he would wear his mother's. One of the maids had even left a uniform there, so it became his dress of choice. Sometimes he wanted to feel pretty and would wear one of Beth's better dresses which necessitated wearing an apron to keep things clean. He wanted to wear makeup but was concerned he would leave telltale signs behind and so, other than lipstick, he avoided anything more exotic. Then he would clean the house dressed as Suzie Homemaker. He would prepare dinner, change clothes and wait for Beth to arrive home, assured she was none the wiser. Things were about to change. @ @ @ @ It was Friday night. Sam dragged his weary ass into his darkened home. He threw his briefcase to the side and kicked off his shoes. Another boring week down. The only light in his life were Saturdays. The fact it was only a few short hours away gave him new life. It was 6 o'clock. His wife wouldn't be home from her store yet, so he would have to make dinner again, he was not a good cook, but it didn't seem to matter, both he and Beth ate to live, they didn't live to eat. It hadn't been like this when they were first married, only since she opened that fashionable little boutique in town. To Sam, that shop at first seemed like a gift from heaven but as time wore on, he wondered if the gift originated from someplace far darker. Recently, the shop had gotten a writeup in the local paper. That seemed to jump start her business, which started to turn a real profit. However, Beth was forced to open early and stay later. Beth was so overworked that, at Sam's suggestion, she hired a full-time shop assistant. The shop's success that snowballed and led to even longer hours. From what Beth said, the lady she hired was close to the second coming. If she ever mentioned her name, Sam didn't remember it. Since the mystery lady joined, Beth had been getting home later and later. The new assistant was a real fashionista and followed all the latest trends. Her presence attracted a new level of clientele and created greater profits. Now that she was self-sufficient, Beth's personality seemed to change. She became more confident, almost commanding. It was like she was the husband and she became accustomed to being in charge at work, she carried that attitude over to their home life. She just assumed it was her right to make all the decisions concerning their home. Sam was doing the shopping, cooking and housework already. If she wanted the headaches of maintaining the house, he let her. He didn't like to bicker, so he let the little slights slide. The one area he wouldn't concede to her was the checkbook. Control of that he kept in his hands. Beth kept getting home later and later, especially on Friday and Saturday nights, Sam had more opportunities to bring out his alternative personality Samantha for longer and longer periods of time without worry of being caught. On Saturday mornings, Sam would give Beth a chance to drive to work and would head to his garage workroom. He would take the key hidden under his table saw and open Samantha's trunk. His female trousseau was limited to a few items, just several cheap wigs, lipsticks and shoes. Since he wore the same size as Beth, he was inclined to use her things, woman clothes are so expensive. It just made fiscal sense to use what was available. As strange as it sounded, wearing Beth's garments made him feel closer to her. He didn't want to actually be her, just be like her. There were very few of her things - especially shoes - that didn't fit Sam. He had his own selection of heels, the height varied with his mood, anywhere from two to five inches. Most Saturdays, he would retreat to the master bedroom and select his outfit for the day from her walk-in closet. He would dress in something practical for doing housework, except for the high heels. A girl needed to feel pretty. In his mind, heels and bras and long hair were the true mark of femininity. He had a cheap long hair blonde wig that he wore most times. The one thing he refrained from was wearing makeup. The few times he had tried it, he came out looking clownish. He was also petrified he would miss something when taking it off. So, he settled with just a coat of lipstick, always the same shade of red he remembered his mother wearing. His dressing was the perfect stress release for him, it was fun and didn't hurt anyone. It was dinner time, he headed for the kitchen to find something simple to fix for their evening meal. His phone buzzed as he reached the refrigerator. 'Honey, I won't be home for dinner,' Beth texted, 'we had a big day, and we have to stay late to restock. Holly and I will grab something to eat after we are finished. It will be really late, don't wait up for me.' Sam made himself a sandwich and grabbed a beer and went to their bedroom to eat. He undressed and took a quick shower always using his wife's sweet- smelling shampoo. He dried off and threw himself on his twin bed and spread out. Three months ago, Beth had redecorated their bedroom and replaced the king bed with a pair of twins. He hasn't slept with her since that day. He fell into a deep sleep. He was surprised as he was awakened by Beth coming home. She wasn't exactly stealthy, she banged into something in the living room that made a big crashing sound. Sam looked at the bedside clock and noticed it was almost one in the morning. Beth stumbled into the room. Beth had taken to wearing her long black hair pulled back and put into a tight bun. Tonight, she had let her hair down. It hung about her head in a disheveled manner. Even from his bed, he could tell Beth reeked of booze. "You're a little late." "I told you we were going to stop for a bite to eat. We didn't feel like fast food, so we went to a little club Holly knew about. We had a few drinks with dinner. They tasted so good we had a few more after the meal." "Beth you're drunk!" "Nonsense, get off my case I'm just feeling really good." Sam pulled back his covers and patted the bed. "Come join me. I bet I can make you feel even better." Beth sneered, "I don't think so. It's late and I have a full day tomorrow. I just want to take a shower and go to bed." Sam was perturbed. "Beth, when is the last time we had sex?" "Beats me. It's not like it was so earth shattering that it was worth marking on the calendar. If you are feeling randy, take care of it by yourself like you always do. Now be a good boy and let me get some sleep." A disappointed Sam rolled over and went back to sleep, listening to Beth singing to herself in the shower. Sam shrugged it off and life went on. Two nights later, over dinner, Beth announced that she was closing the shop for a few days to attend a small business symposium in Las Vegas. She would be driving, taking off Thursday after work and not returning until Tuesday morning sometime. Sam have heartedly asked if she would like him to go with her. They could turn it into a second honeymoon. She leapt to her feet and said, "Please Sam. It's a business meeting not a vacation. There are symposiums during the day and social mixers at night to network with other small business woman." Sam felt giddy all that time alone with no worries about Beth walking in on Samantha. He saw this as a golden opportunity to let Samantha shine, he had always dreamed about getting a professional makeover and now he had that opportunity. The next day at work, Sam couldn't contain himself as he used the company computer to check out local beauty parlors to see if they would work on men. He was paranoid someone would see what he was researching, so he cleared his browser history and watched the clock and counted the minutes until he could go home. Beth wasn't due home for several hours, so he sat down at his computer and conducted a number of goggle searches. He looked for someplace that specialized in turning men into believable looking women. Out of the list of several entries, he found the perfect place only an hour's drive away. It was a full-service transformation service in the next town. His palms sweaty and his pulse racing, he booked himself a noon appointment for the Saturday after Beth would leave for her trip. He printed out their pamphlet and bookmarked the page. He continued to look until he also found the city's most popular gay friendly bar that was in the same part of town as the service. His plan was to get a makeover then leave dressed as a woman to spend an evening at the club. He put the pamphlet in his briefcase in a sealed bank envelope. The next day, he would sneak it out while he had a chance at work and would salivate over their before and after makeovers. He assumed there was a lot of photoshopping, he dreamed if they could even come close to those results in his case it would be worth the extravagant prices they were charging. On that fateful Thursday morning, Beth woke in a surprisingly cheerful mood. Sam had been awake for hours, his anticipation was off the scale. He had been up and made Beth breakfast and filled her coffee travel mug. Beth skipped the bacon and eggs breakfast but grabbed the coffee, she waved goodbye to him, and reminded him she would be home Tuesday morning. As she was closing the door, she stuck her head back in and dropped a bombshell, "Honey, I need to get away and just take a break. After work today, I will be turning my phone off. So, I won't be disturbed." He called after her, "How can I get in touch with you if there's an emergency?" She had already closed the door, so Sam figured she hadn't heard him. He waited until normal business hours and phoned the transformation service and asked what he needed to bring and got driving and parking directions. He took the day off from work, his first non-sick day off in over a year. He was so nervous he had trouble getting the key in the ignition. He put the address in his GPS and drove off. The hour drive seemed to take forever and no time at all at the same time. Once he arrived at the right street, he drove by the shop at slow speed to get a good look. He was driving so slow a car behind him honked its horn. He waved the impatient driver around him. Turning around in the next block, parked briefly in front of the entrance to the shop. He didn't have the courage to get out of the car and just sat there with his heart pounding. He looked around fretfully, worried that someone might be looking at him. Thankfully no one seemed to be paying any attention. He sped away as fast as he could. Once he was into the next block, he got control of his emotions and after three attempts managed to get the bar's address in his phone. Then he did a slow pass drive by of the bar, just to get the lay of the land. It was in the seedy part of town but did have its own parking lot with video surveillance. @ @ @ @ Friday morning, he got up early and used an entire bottle of a high potency hair removal cream designed for men. On his entire body- everywhere. The package promised up to six weeks of hair free surface. He was delighted not to have to shave his face for weeks. He put on his dress slacks, hating how the material feeling so coarse on his smooth skin. It was also uncomfortable for his little man and its two friends. The solution came to him, he went to his stash and brought out a new pair of black pantyhose. That made all the difference. Until his hair grew back, he might be spending lots of time with nylons under his male clothes, the thought bringing a smile to his face. How that would work with Beth he would worry about later. He was just going to concentrate on the feeling of wearing feminine items under his male clothes. He put on his dress shirt and had the same uncomfortableness he had with the pants, so he swapped out his cotton undershirt with a white silk camisole. The way it felt on his sensitive nipples was beyond delightful. He knew this was going to be the best few days of his life. Since he and Beth slept and undressed separately, they were more like roommates than a married couple. There was no affection shown between them. No cuddles, no hand holding, no honeys, no please and thank you. They simply coexisted and tried to avoid doing anything to upset the other person. He saw no problem in being able to hide his hairless body from his wife, except in the mornings when they were running late. Then they would dress hurriedly in the bedroom. It would be a thrill being hairless and naked only a few feet away. He would have to dress with his ass to her, since he had removed all his pubic hair. That would be impossible to explain away. He doubted she would even notice. She never looked at him anymore, not like when they were first married when she couldn't get enough of him. Her sex drive threatened to overwhelm him at times. She just never wanted to quit. That night, he took the opportunity to sleep in one of his wife's nightgowns. Being hairless added a whole new dimension to the sleeping in a nightie. It felt deliciously naughty. He was excited sexually all night long. When he woke, he noticed during the night he had stained the nightgown with his precum. He threw it in the wash. Saturday morning, he was up early. He knew the dress he was going to wear for Samantha's night out. It was a dress Beth brought home from her shop when she had attended a classmate's wedding. He loved this dress it was flirtatiously low cut in the bodice. Even with Beth's modest B cup breasts, she wore a padded push up bra and it displayed her tits generously. It was a navy-blue sequin bodycon midi dress with a low-cut neckline. It was fitted to showcase the wearer's curvy figure. Beth wore it once and she had never looked more beautiful, her few extra pounds only added to her sexiness. She accessorized the dress with a pearl necklace and matching earrings. He was in lust with her that day. He wasn't the only one, she had to fend off a host of men wanting to get to know her better. He was so worked up that night in the bedroom he brought his A game. He wasn't normally into oral sex, that night he feasted on her lady parts. He didn't stop until she said she was too sensitive to go on. Damn he had hoped she would wear it again. That would bring a spark back to their relationship. He had hinted at wanting to see her in it again, sadly it was hidden in the back of her closet. It hadn't seen the light of day in years. He brought out the dress and hung it on the door he visualized how he will look and feel wearing the dress. The dress would showcase his large breast forms. The feel of silk panties on his privates behind the tight dress, the snugness of a bra enclosing his chest, the joy of wearing high heels, and the feel of long hair tickling his neck. The smell and taste of wearing lipstick. It would be bliss being a woman for one night. He believed he would be as pretty as his wife was. He would become the woman he wished his wife would be. Sam will be dating Samantha it will be a monogamous one, Samantha would never cheat on Sam. Talk about dissociative identity, he was in love with himself. That would keep a shrink busy for years. He packed a small travel bag, adding in his newest purchase, the set of DD forms still in their original boxes. He had them out once to check that they matched his skin tone. Satisfied that they were perfect, he reverently repacked them in their boxes. They went on the bottom then he padded around them with panties, nylons and a delicate looking black spaghetti strap camisole. Next came his bra, it was a push-up bra with an underwire, medium-light padding. Made with soft microfiber and a lace trim. Back straps can be made into X-back which is great for preventing slipping straps. Two-row, three columns back closure and adjustable straps made it ideal to handle the weight of the oversized forms. For shoes, he was undecided. To complete the ensemble, the dress screamed for stilettos. He just happened to have a pair of high black stilettos. He knew they were the right shoes, but he had never worn them for more than a few minutes. He sighed; he wasn't sure he was man enough to deal with them for an entire night. Reluctantly he picked up a lower pair. He paused, and threw in the stilettos as well, figuring a girl can never have too many options. As an almost afterthought, he threw in his favorite pair of Beth's black sexy sheer lace hipster panties that were strong enough to hold his thing snugly tucked away. He also added a perfume spritzer containing his favorite fragrance White Shoulders because it has that unique smell of a spring flower garden in full bloom. Not only was it a light floral sent but it was the same perfume Beth used so any lingering smells would go unnoticed. Wearing it made him feel like a maiden in a field of wild flowers. Satisfied he had everything he would need, he folded his dress neatly and laid it on top before closing the case. As he was ready to leave, Sam paused. His emotions were in a turmoil, caught somewhere between excitement and terror. Sam stood next to his bag trying to decide what he was going to do. Fulfill his life's dream and walk out that door or chicken out. It would be easy to just empty the case and pretend this never happened. However, that option would mean he would always wonder what might have been. A regret he wasn't sure he could live with. Sam realized this chance may never come again. Every year he was getting older and less likely to be able to pass as a pretty woman. He made a life changing decision; this opportunity may never come again. He was going to make the leap and follow through with his plan. He was going to put his happiness in the technical abilities of the transformation salon. That decision made had a calming effect on his emotions. He was sure this was the right thing to do. Now there was the dilemma, what to wear. Does he go in full out drag or just his normal male clothes? He finally decided on something in between. After some consideration, he was so edgy he wanted something that was familiar. He put on an old house dress that reminded him of the ones he wore of his mothers and his blonde wig. Thinking back to his earliest times dressing always gave him a warm and fuzzy feeling. As an afterthought he put on an overcoat that covered up his dress but left his hairless legs on display. He slipped on a pair of woman's black ballet square toe ballet flats. @ @ @ @ He drove to the makeover studio. They had a parking lot on the side of the building and he parked the car in the slot reserved for 'first time clients.' He unloaded his bag and locked his car, his heart beating wildly. Like a turtle, he pulled his head down into the coat as far as it would go and he arranged the long wig to cover his exposed face. Nervously, he made his way to the front door, easily identified sitting under the neon sign, 'Vickie's Full-Service Transformation Studio.' As he got to the door, he noticed a small lettered sign, 'Where we turn ugly frogs into beautiful Princesses.' That explained the corporate logo etched on the glass door of a frog and a Disney type princess. He paused briefly thinking 'I am finally going to do this.' He pushed the door open and stepped into the studio, not sure what to expect. He was met by a middle-aged woman dressed in a smart pants suit, that reminded him of Beth in her pre-boutique days. In a friendly voice, she said, "Hello, I'm Pattie, the duty manager. How may I help you?" His eyes darted nervously around the room. Her commanding presence reminded him of his wife's current demeanor and made him feel intimidated. Breathing a sigh of relief that he had made it to his Shangri-La, he said happily, "Yes, I am Sam Williams I have an appointment." Sam held his breath and really stressed the efficiency of his antiappeasement, he waited while Pattie checked her clipboard. In an excessively perky voice she exclaimed, "Oh yes, here you are. You have signed up for our deluxe package. What exactly are you hoping for?" Sam looked down and took a deep breath for the first time, he studied the floor and decided to be totally honest. "Pattie, I have been dressing since I was a child. I am afraid that, at my best, I come out looking like a homeless bag lady. For once in my life I want to feel attractive. Can you make me look pretty? Pattie said, "Get that coat and dress off so that I can see what we have to work with." She walked over to Sam and took off his cheap wig and tossed it aside in disgust. She turned his head one way then the other. She examined him closely. "Honey, you have great skin and good bone structure, I can work with that." Then she poked him in the tummy. "You have kept yourself in good shape just a little fat to hide. We have ways to handle that, you'll love it when we're done. "Honey, we can do a lot better than pretty. Our goal is always to produce a centerfold. Now the question is what do you want us to do, just put you in different dresses and take pictures for your keepsake? We have a lot of fun things, everything from wedding dresses to Playboy bunny costumes." @ @ @ @ Sam stood there, stunned. "No, I brought my own dress, I want you to make me over. If I am good enough, I hoped to dress and go out as a woman to a club." Pattie nodded. "That's right up our alley. We would be glad to help you dress if you wish, I am sure we have everything else you will need. Let me see your outfit." Sam opened his valise and handed it to her. Pulling out his dress she gushed over what she found. "My, this is truly divine, we will ensure your makeup compliments this outfit." She then called out, "Sue I need you here." A young man dressed in a French Maid costume showed up and did a deep curtsey. "Yes, Miss Pattie what can I do for you?" "Yes. Take this dress and get the wrinkles out of it." Pattie turned to Sam and commented, "That is one of our regulars. He comes in once a month and likes to be our maid for the day. He pays us for the privilege of working here. Can you believe that?" The normally fiscally conservative Sam threw caution to the winds. With the nervousness of a bride on her wedding night he turned over the keys to his monetary future, handing Pattie his gold card. "Pattie, you have carte blanche. Do whatever it takes." "Certainly Sam, when you leave here your own mother won't recognize you. That is my promise. From this time on, you will be Samantha." Pattie led Sam back into the depths of the shop, where he was stripped and led to a relaxing mud bath. Followed, in order, by a full body massage, then a facial. He was exfoliated, cleansed and moisturized; his clogged pores sucked clean. When he was finished, he was stripped naked and an attractive young lady had him stand still as she examined his body inch by inch, plucking any stray hairs he had missed. Then he was ushered into a sauna. After 20 minutes, he felt like he had sweated off 10 pounds. He was roused from the calm of the sauna when he was pushed into a cold shower. The shock of the icy water took his breath away. When he tried to back out to escape, he was stopped by two firm hands on his back pushing him back into the ice bath. The frigid temperatures made his little man shrivel up like a snail pulling into its shell. From his perspective, it looked like it had completely disappeared. Leaving the shower, he was given a pink robe and an 8-ounce glass of juice to drink. What they didn't let on was the juice was laced with a powerful sedative, all part of the company's plans to ensure Sam's passive acquiescence. From past experience, the company found this reduced their man hours. He finished the juice and, with nothing on underneath, he was led to the makeup center. He was so relaxed that he just sat there as a sexy woman got on her knees and worked on his nails, applying 10 long acrylic nails. The act of someone doing his nails made Sam so relaxed he dozed. For the next hour, he was in and out of full consciousness. The beautician was a true artisan she spent forever making him over to a beautiful looking woman. He was so relaxed he only flinched when they pierced his ears. He didn't even react when they plucked his eyebrows, one hair at a time. He ended up with two pencil thin arched brows, that they then dyed dark brown. They used smelling salts to bring him back. They had him sit up for his wig fitting. The wig was made of human hair and in a lovely shade of auburn with red highlights. It had been styled while his makeover was being done. It was ready to be pinned in place so it wouldn't slip. It had taken over four hours from the time Sam walked in the door, but Pattie announced Samantha was ready to meet her public. The smells permeating the salon caused Sam to feel a bit light-headed and very womanly. It reminded him of the times he would accompany his mother to get her hair done. Clouds of hair spray filled the room and the smell of the nail polish brought back memories of happier times when Beth would do her nails while they snuggled on the couch watching television. Sam sat still, his head spinning. The lipstick felt smooth on his lips, sensual and erotic. His eyelashes felt heavy. He could see the mascara which he found exciting. Pattie stood in front of a mirror blocking it and asked, "Are you ready to meet the new you? If I may say so, we have never done a better job. The ugly duckling is now the beautiful swan." Sam wanted to see how he came out more than anything in his life but decided to postpone the grand reveal until he was dressed. In the past, dressing gave him such a high that the professional makeover was just the icing on the cake. He was giddy with excitement. But thought he would postpone the grand reveal. So, he said. "No, I want to wait until the whole transformation is complete. Can you help me get dressed, pretty please?" @ @ @ @ A tall, stately woman walked in. She wasn't pretty and she was taller than Sam. Her height was intimidating and it seemed to give her an air of authority. Sam had the impression that she could see through him, seeing a softness of his character that he normally tried to hide in order to protect his male persona. "My name is Helen," she said as she glowered down at him. "I'm going to be your guide and help you through the process." She took his robe and led him to a large private room. She looked at his naked form and shook her head but said nothing. She merely ushered him toward a pile of feminine finery displayed on a nearby table. A pair of attractive assistants followed them into the room, seemingly without a care in the world and made Sam rather self-conscious about his nudity. The two young women were dressed identically in loose-fitting pink polo shirts and high- waisted textured plaid pencil skirts. Their shirts displayed the corporate logo of a frog and princess over the left breast. "This is Miss Phoebe and Miss Henrietta," Helen said, indicating each girl. "They will help you dress." Sam nodded to each girl as they were introduced, uncomfortable being naked around two young ladies. Their expressions reminded him of a pair of Labrador puppies. He was glad he was able to remain flaccid during this time and not embarrassing himself with an erection. He did not realize it at the time, but the drink he had been given earlier was making sure that they were able to help him dress without his male anatomy getting in the way. Phoebe handed Sam his panties, congratulating him on his choice of sexy underwear. He found discussing panties while naked to be embarrassing. The girls turned their backs to give him the semblance of privacy. While he was occupied the two co-eds were chatting among themselves just loud enough for Sam to overhear. Apparently, this was a part time gig for them both to help pay for college. Sam tucked himself firmly away out of trouble, glad that his exposure to the cold water relaxed his member adequately. Once he was finished, he politely coughed and announced he had them on. For the rest of the dressing session, Sam didn't say a single word. He simply obeyed these two assertive girls. When they said sit, he sat when they said stand, he stood. They were polite enough to not comment upon his physical endowments, but there were some looks exchanged between them. Then things got serious. Sam was given a chair to sit in. The two ladies each took one of the back seamed nylons with a Cuban heel and rolled them into a donut. They each took a foot as they slipped the stocking over his foot, ensuring the heels were lined up properly then they pulled them up to his knees. They slide easily on his freshly shave legs. The two paused briefly to get a new grip. Sam was happy at this point that he was firmly tucked as his man was finally starting to respond to the erotic sensations he was experiencing. The beige sheer thigh-high lace top stay-up hosiery was inched sensuously up his thighs until they were in place. Without asking, they had retrieved his black 5''stilettos and they slipped them onto his feet. He was told to stand and they helped him to his feet. He was unsteady, his legs shaking from the adrenalin pumping throughout his body. The shoes cramped his toes and ensured his feet were pointed and arched. When Sam complained that the shoes were too small, he was told, "No dear, those are the proper size. You're about to find out that being a girl might not be as much fun as you thought!" He wanted to argue but changed his mind when he looked down and saw they give his legs some amazing definition. Next came the item he dreaded most, the accursed corset. Watching as Phoebe dug it out of the lingerie pile, Sam's mouth suddenly became as dry as the Mohave desert. To him, it looked like it was something left over from the Spanish Inquisition. Phoebe gleefully promised it would take five inches off his waist. Wrapping it around her client and securing the front snaps, it was snug already. Helen stepped back into the room, whether it was to help or as a chaperone Sam wasn't sure. Helen and the other two aides worked as team to close the corset to its fullest. By the time they tied off the laces all three ladies were out of breath. Sam was no better. As advertised, it gave him an impossibly slim waist. He was light-headed as he reached out with one hand to steady himself against the wall. Sam strained to catch his breath, but try as he could, it only came out in short gasps. The corset prevented any slouching or bending over. Helen watched with a bored expression; it wasn't her first rodeo. She had been through this with countless other men. Helen stood back and had Sam turn for her, she put a finger under her chin and watched. She stood back and examined her creation like an artist looking over her latest painting. She said, "We need something more. Wait here." Like he was going anywhere in just panties, a corset, stockings and impossibly tall heels. Helen returned with two boxes. The first held stick-on silicone hip pads. She pulled out the side of his underwear and stuck them to his hips. The other box had pads to enhance Sam's derri?re. Once they were in place, they added a good six inches to his waist and hips. At Helen's insistence, he strolled around the room to ensure they weren't going to fall off. Being silicone and firmly attached, they moved and jiggled like real flesh. It was silly, but Sam worried his butt was too big. As he strolled around, his muscle memory kicked in from all the hours he had spent in heels. He was unsteady for the first few steps, but he was soon able to walk with slow and careful steps, as both girls were advising him to shorten his stride and keep his feel close to each other. He walked heel to toe and kept one foot in front of the other. Strutting like that caused his gluteus maximus to contract and release. That set the new 'flesh' on his posterior undulating suggestively. Helen was more than delighted with the effect, as she thought 'Those are really expensive, but I challenge anyone from telling them from the real thing.' He was next handed his bra. Helen offered to help him put it on. Sam tried to conceal the trembling of his voice as he thanked her and said he could handle this by himself. He took the delicate bra in his slightly trembling hands. Reaching backwards from pure muscle memory he easily fastened his brassiere around his chest. Once he had it secured Helen slipped his DD breast forms into the cups, then adjusted the straps. Sam was nearly trembling from excitement as he stood up straight and knew he had never felt so womanly. When he moved, they seemed unusually animated. Their big dark nipples and areolae were evident through the thin fabric of his bra. There is a time and place to show off the goods and to Sam this was just such a time. The weight of the forms pulled down on the bra straps. Sam relished the feeling. He eagerly looked down to see what his chest looked like. He saw a canyon of cleavage, it so deep that it would conceal a small kitten. From Sam's perspective, it looked like the cleavage was near pornographic dimensions. His pushup bra separated and deliciously lifted two melons of womanly flesh. He wondered briefly if he hadn't made a mistake selecting forms so large. The heavy breasts threw off his center of balance, and he was forced to push his shoulders back to compensate, which appeared to thrust the breasts out even further. Now when he walked, he had a counter balance to his bodacious booty. Sam was forced to change his walk to control his breasts. When he did walk to compensate to cut down on his breast jiggling, the more his butt quivered. At this point, there was not an iota of testosterone in the building. Sam felt as if he was a complete female. His only regret was that his shape was artificial. He could only dream how much pleasure he would get if his breasts and nipples had nerve endings. Helen held out his dress. This was Sam's favorite of all of Beth's dresses. In his opinion, it was a magical number, a dress that needed to be worn. It boasted a stretchy black mesh and matching black sequins that travel throughout the delinquent cut low neckline, three-quarter sleeves, and bodycon bodice. The skirt had a scalloped hem and a hidden back zipper. He knew he would have a hell of a time unzipping the skirt when his night as Cinderella was over. Sam stepped into it and held his hair out of the way while Helen zipped up his dress. In Sam's opinion, the outfit was suitable for the Samantha persona that he wished to imitate. Helen was a professional, but even she marveled that the lovely creature before her was a really a man. She looked pleased and commented. "It fits you perfectly." She took a few steps back to take in the whole picture. His makeup was picture-perfect, the wig color and style were incredibly flattering for the shape of his face. Then there was that dress. With just a pang of jealously, she admired the way he looked in it, feminine without being over the top. It couldn't have fit any better if it had been tailored for him. It narrowed at the waist and clung to his silicon enhanced curves. As he was ready to leave, Helen handed him a small black patent leather purse, he dangled it from his shoulder, she commented, "Honey, that dress looks like it was made for you. It accentuates all your womanly curves." He thanked her and walked out to find a mirror. As he walked out, Helen was flummoxed at what her crew had achieved. She caught up with Samantha and escorted him to a floor length mirror, so her client could finally see the finished product. Helen passed him off to Pattie who had had him pose in front of the full-length mirror. He kept his eyes down cast, he couldn't see past his boobs. He took a deep breath, almost afraid to see his appearance. He summoned up all his nerve and looked up. The vision before him made him stagger and he took a step back to catch his wits. The man in clumsy drag that had entered five hours earlier had been eradicated, and in his place stood a stunningly beautiful young woman who looked to be in her late thirties. His eyes started at the top and scanned down. The staff made the decision that his complexion called for a shoulder length auburn wig with red highlights. His only concern was the thinness of his eyebrows. He thought he could wear his old thick rim eyeglasses that might cover his brows. He reached up to feel his new earrings. Come Tuesday, he could take out the huge sparkly cubic zirconia studs in his ears. He hoped that the holes would not stand out. To his utter astonishment he noted his hands for the first time. He no longer had fingernails, there were ten bright red shiny talons in their place. The human hair wig was eons sexier than the cheap one he'd worn into the shop. Its auburn color and red highlights hung in sultry waves that fell sexily about his face where it was styled into a sexy Marilyn Monroe flip that settled just above his shoulders. Sam scrutinized his face searching for any flaws that might give away his true gender. He couldn't find anything. They even hid his less than predominate Adam's apple with a strategically placed rhinestone choker. He flashed a brilliant grin that was framed by two impossibly full lips that were stained in a dark red, almost burgundy, color. He beheld himself in the mirror with the glamorously overdone makeup. Sam twisted and turned as he coyly checked out his voluptuous figure in his sexy getup. He apprehensively fluttered his long eyelashes and gingerly touched his plumped-up and glossy crimson lips with one of his long-manicured fingernails. He turned to Pattie with a pout and questioned, "What happened to my lips?" Pattie with a great deal of pride replied, "I know, they look spectacular. We are having a special on lip injections. You said we had carte blanche and not to hold back, so we plumped them up to the maximum." "But I didn't feel a thing." She laughed. "You seemed a little uptight, so we spiked your juice with a mild sedative. In addition, we coated your lips with a topical anesthetic that numbed your lips. You never reacted as the needle went in. As far as we could tell, you didn't feel anything during the injections. In my opinion, this method is even better than the older collagen injections although the effect doesn't last as long. "We used the same topical anesthetic when we pierced your ears and shaped your eyebrows. Helen was able pluck them to a fine line and you never even flinched. The same was true when we did your Botox treatment. It took 10 years off your look." Sam was staggered by what he heard. "What am I going to do when I have to be a man on Tuesday?" "I'm sorry, but you never mentioned a time line. Your lips will return to a more normal look in a couple weeks. I'm afraid that is the best we can offer." He simply shrugged his shoulders. Still in a state of shock, he tried to rationalize a way out of this mess. "I can wear my old clunky eyeglasses; the frames may hide the brows. The holes in my ears will probably not be noticed once the earrings are removed and the hair will eventually grow back on my legs and arms. I can wear long sleeve shirts until then. "But my lips will be impossible to hide. I suppose I could claim that I was hit the mouth and there was some swelling." Pattie met his eye in the mirror. "We have had this kind of issue in the past. Just tell people that you experienced some kind of allergic reaction to something you ate or drank. Tell them that the swelling looks worse than it really is and that it will reduce itself in a few weeks. It works all of the time." She smiled reassuringly. Most of her job at this point was getting the client to relax and accept their transformation. That settled, he looked down at the prosthetics that he thought were pretty amazing. He liked the way the huge boobs tented out the front of his dress and the distracting way the weight of them pulled on his chest. Even the hip and butt prosthetics were kind of cool in combination with the constricting corset, giving him womanly curves and a big round hips and booty. The corset laced tightly about his midsection did wonders for his figure but was uncomfortably cutting into his midsection. He decided the discomfort of the corset was worth it, as it was very effective in giving him the impression of a wasp waist. All the world could see is a slender waisted woman with an amazing set of legs that were perched on a pair of strappy stiletto heels. Sam realized that the vision in the looking glass could turn the head of any red-blooded man who saw her. Perhaps most striking of all was Sam's makeup. He had feared he would get a ridiculously over-the-top look just short of being totally gaudy. However, instead of being tawdry and clownish as he feared, the artfully applied cosmetics gave Sam an aggressively sexy, femininity that transformed his every blink and gesture into a seductive come-on. Her alluring tresses would beckon men like a temptress. He at his reflection looked in disbelief, they hadn't missed a single detail. His beautiful auburn cascade of hair, his overlong painted fingernails, the sprinkling earrings and showy jewelry. Eyebrows had been plucked almost to extinction leaving only a thin line that was shaped into quizzical little lines. Then his eyes were drawn to his man magnets, two titanic titties with their oversize nipples that were evident as they poked out visibly and prominently, from his skin tight dress. Then he assessed his trim waist and wide feminine hips. It was his dream come true. The frock clung to Sam's curves incredibly snugly and showed off every inch of his female curves, and the sight of his big round hips and abundant rear end alongside his corseted nipped-in waist gave him an eye-popping figure. The dress came down to his knees, it was so tight the dress hobbled Sam's legs together as it practically bound him at his knees. Between that and his strappy stiletto heels, Sam wondered how he would even be able to walk. He wobbled at first but after a while his muscle memory kicked in again and he felt more comfortable. @ @ @ @ Helen caught up with Samantha announcing, "Yes dear, you are quite convincing, but you have a very long way to go in order to be more naturally feminine. That will take time." She then put him through a 45-minute crash course in feminine deportment. He walked to the cash register, his high heels making staccato clicks on the hardwood floors of the foyer. Helen stood back and watched her newly minted feminine creation mince his way around on heels so tall and thin, Helen would be afraid to wear them. He paid the bill without even looking at the total. He took one last look in the mirror. There was no trace of the man that walked in this afternoon at all. He didn't look much like a centerfold, but his appearance was close enough he was delighted at the finished product. He looked good. He could barely recognize himself. Instead, he saw an intelligent, wide-eyed woman peering back. A bit square-jawed, perhaps, with a nose a touch too large, but the makeup softened both of those. Before Sam could turn for the door, the cashier looked up as said, "Ms. Williams you ordered the deluxe package. Please come with me." She stepped around the counter and led Sam to what looked like a closet. "Please step in and close your eyes and hold your breath, this will just take a few seconds." Once Sam was inside, the girl closed the door and pushed a button on the wall. Inside the closet, Sam found himself enveloped in a thick cloud of expensive French perfume that infused every pore of his skin and the very fiber of his clothes. Then she opened the door and led him to the exit. He stopped abruptly and turned and pointed to his wig. "How and when do I return your things?" "Honey you should have looked more closely at your bill. You now own everything you have on. The wig, corset, stockings and hip pads are top of the line and rather costly, and all yours. Enjoy your night." The image in the glass door staring back at him was undeniably all woman. He sashayed his way to his car, feeling like a pretty woman. He had a very difficult time opening the clasp on his purse because of his long nails. He used them like chopsticks to fish out the car keys. He sat in the seat and swung his legs in like a lady. He closed the car door and experienced an overpowering floral scent. He was inundated in a cloud of girlishly flowery perfume. He walked to his car, his female impersonation was a long way from perfect, but he tried to move in an enticingly feminine fashion that was as close to a runway model as he could. Sam left the store feeling his inner woman had finally blossomed. He put the keys in the ignition and was ready to start the car when his phone rang. He almost jumped out of his skin in shock. He looked at caller ID and saw that it was Beth. He was in no mood for an argument and let it go to voicemail. He waited a few minutes to get his heart beat down. He dialed into his voicemail and heard, "Honey, I have been concerned about the way I left things last Friday. I said some terrible things I didn't mean. You were right. I was drunk. I had a ball that night and thought you were being judgmental. It was the first time I had been drunk since I was in college. I really let my hair down, I drank, danced and flirted. I felt 21 again. It was one of the best nights of my life. I wasn't ready for you to rain on my parade. The bottom line is I needed this time away to get a new perspective on life. When I get home, I would like nothing better than to spend a night making mad passionate love to you. Please forget what I said. I do love you." Sam was thrown. With all that had been done to him. There was no way to explain it all away. He would either have to put off the intimacy or come clean on his dressing. But It was a decision he wasn't ready to make at the moment. He was going to enjoy his night and cross that bridge in the light of day. Now he was ready to party. @ @ @ @ Driving with the high heels was more difficult than Sam thought, but he managed it. He pulled into the bar's parking lot, which was mostly empty at this early hour. He wasn't keen to move but, eventually, took a little breath and reached for the door handle. The walk to the front door was short, but it seemed like a hundred miles to Sam as he stepped unsteadily in his feminine footwear. Nervously, he looked around thinking he might be spotted by someone he knew, and as he approached the front door a more horrible thought entered his head. There might be someone in the gay bar that knew him. He threw his shoulders back and forced his head up and strode as the best he could in his stiletto heels and tried to project an air of confidence that he didn't entirely feel. He opened the door and cautiously stepped in not knowing what to expect, his religious background told him it would be a den of iniquity. If that was what he found what did that say about him? It wasn't until later he discovered gay men aren't normally attracted to effeminate guys. In drag, it was unlikely he would be approached by a gay man. What he saw as he walked in was nothing like he feared. There was no lewd behavior or obvious drug use. There were couples sitting at tables socializing and a few couples dancing. Granted, most the couples were same sex, but it could have been any bar anywhere. He made his way to a bar stool, thinking he could keep his back to the club. Getting up on the stool was easier said than done. Between the heels and skirt, he couldn't figure out a way to get his caboose on the stool. He finally moved the stool as close to the bar he could and put both hands on the bar and used his strength to lift his body up high enough to land his padded fanny firmly on the stool. Samantha perched himself on a barstool in front of the large bar mirror, a position from which he could inconspicuously watch the action behind him. Delighted he had made it, he sat at the bar and looked at the large mirror on the bar wall and saw his reflection in the mirror. He lightly shook his head side to side to make his hair fall more naturally about his face. Sam saw Samantha and thought, 'I am beautiful!' He relaxed and enjoyed what he was seeing. He sat and just looked, turning his head from side to side, admiring himself from all angles. He pursed my lips, gave himself little kisses, he smiled then smoothed his dress over his body, and fluffed his hair. Then used his makeup mirror to touch-up his lipstick. That was so much fun he powdered his nose. His bout of narcissism was interrupted when the bartender came over. "Hi. I'm Fred what should I call you?" Sam briefly thought about trying to disguise his voice, but knew that would be a total disaster so in his normal voice, he said with a little warble in his voice, "Glad to meet you Fred, you can call me Sam." "Excuse me miss, you don't look like a Sam to me," Fred smiled. Flustered, Sam furrowed his brow, he reached up and patted a loose strand of hair back in place. With his lips twisted in a smile he got out. "Actually tonight, I am Samantha, but Sam is acceptable. Whatever you'd rather." Fred smiled at him. "Okay, Sam it is. Miss, what can I get for you?" He really wanted a cold beer but thought that was inappropriate for Samantha. He ordered what he thought was appropriate, a martini garnished with an olive. He had never had a martini before and sipped it cautiously. He wasn't crazy about the taste but, on an empty stomach, it immediately did its job. By the third sip, he was starting to feel the alcohol. It did not help that he had not eaten anything in the past few hours either. The warm glow of alcohol enveloped Sam. He relaxed and sat there enjoying his night out as Samantha. After about 15 minutes, a man in a Brooks Brothers suit sauntered up to Sam. "Hey gorgeous, will you join me at my table? I'll buy you a drink." Sam replied, using a voice as soft as he could get it answered, "No thanks I have one already." The suit walked away looking for someone else to chat up. Sam felt a rush at a man trying to pick him up. Fred turned to Sam. "That was a good decision. He is a known tranny chaser; I advise you to avoid him." Sam thanked him for his advice, the fact the guy thought he was a tranny rather than real woman was a letdown. Sam sat there and enjoyed watching the show behind him. As time wore on, more couples came in than singles. It was a friendly crew; the music was a tad loud for Sam's taste. But it was a lively place. More and more couples joined the crowd on the dance floor. He was asked by two men and a woman to dance and he politely turned them all down. @ @ @ @ He was on his third martini when the door opened and Sam felt a cold draft. The door opened wide and Sam casually glanced toward the door. He only caught a glimpse of the woman who walked in that sent Sam's heart into palpitations. He couldn't be sure, but the first impression was the woman was a dead ringer for his wife. Sam's eyes went almost cartoonishly wide. Sam shook his head to clear it. He scrutinized the woman's reflection in the mirror and it became clear from her body language that this was in actuality his wife. He ashen pallor was obvious even underneath all the makeup he was wearing, but no one was looking at the moment. Beth looked stunning. Normally she favored conservative outfits that tended to obscure her figure not emphasize it. Nothing like what she was currently wearing. She was dressed in a sexy little off-the-shoulder black minidress with her long dark hair styled loosely about her shoulders. Her makeup was more dramatic than he had ever seen before. It was more appropriate for dancing at a rave rather than what she usually wore daily and her eyes were dark and beautifully defined; she was even wearing long dark false lashes. Sam's first thought was she had somehow followed him here and was going to publicly confront him. That thought was shattered when Sam saw the woman behind Beth who put her arm around her shoulders possessively. The sight of his wife in a gay bar - accompanied by another woman - made him feel physically ill. Was his entire marriage nothing but a sham? Sam gritted his teeth and attempted to ball his hands into fists only to be stymied as his long fingernails bit into his palms. Then he blinked twice and took a deep breath as he tried to get his emotions under control. A queasy feeling and a shiver gripped him as a thin film of sweat crossed his forehead. Sam took advantage of the fact that Beth was preoccupied with her partner to get a close examination of her partner's voluptuous body in the mirror. She had blonde hair that was cut to shoulder length. She had a pretty face with an upturned nose. Her white scooped neckline blouse was made of a shiny material that was so thin that even in the mirror and at 30 feet he could almost make out the pink color of her nipples crowning the large globes of her breasts. Sam noticed that they had jiggled slightly as she walked in, implying she wasn't wearing a brassiere. Sam's little man shifted in its silken confines, but stayed trapped. Sam's eyes widened and his heart pounded in his chest when he managed to tear his eyes away from the woman to her companion. It took a moment for his brain to confirm that he had seen what he thought he'd seen. It was in fact his wife Beth dressed in a red low cut minidress that reached just above her knees and she was wearing matching colored stilettos. That had to be five inches tall. Her black hair was piled high on her head. Her makeup was heavy and dramatic. He watched in shock as his wife leaned down and tentatively kissed her date's full lips. In response, the woman being kissed reached her hands around Beth's waist. The two held the kiss long enough to draw the attention of the other patrons. It was obvious these two were more than casual acquaintances. The blonde's hands slowly moved down to cup Beth's round bottom. Beth's B cup breasts were no match for her date's unfettered D cups. Sam's pulse was pounding in his ears. His penis strained against the gusset of his panties as he realized that this blonde beauty was seducing his wife right here in public. Not just any woman this was centerfold material. His wife who was so prim and proper she wouldn't even hold hands in public before they were engaged. And here she was in a gay bar acting like a total slut. As they moved as a couple further into the club, Beth gave the woman a dazzling smile and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Watching his wife come on to her date, his insides were roiling with a sea of turbulent emotions--anger, fear, and disgust. Rather than find a table, Beth led her friend right to the dance floor. Beth threw her arms around her friend's neck and pulled them together in an intimate embrace. Her date's hands went to cup Beth's buttocks and she pulled so hard it almost lifted Beth off her feet. Then they locked lips in a sizzling kiss as they swayed to the music. Sam sighed as he realized that there went his last hope that they were merely two women in a platonic relationship. He watched his wife and her floozie swinging their bodies energetically on the dance floor. Sam was shaking as tears started to run down his face. My wife is a lesbian. He blinked away tears and after he wiped his face, he saw a dark streak on his hand from his eye makeup that had started to run. He breathed a heavy sigh and tried to ignore the foreign sensations that resulted from his boobs bouncing on his chest. Fred was watching, and casually suggested he fix his makeup. Sam blinked indistinctly in the direction of the bartender's voice and was caught off guard by the curtain of hairs that swept across his face. That was bad enough it even got worse when he went to brush it away and poked himself in the cheek with the long feminine nail. As he shifted on the stool, he thought he was sitting on a pillow when he realized that the hip and butt prosthetics were still there. Sam opened his purse and took out the compact with its mirror and did what he could. He remained anchored on his bar stool and nursed his martini, doing his best to avoid drawing attention to himself as he watched his wife's action intently. It was a side of her he had never seen. Once or twice, he thought he made eye contact with Beth as she looked over at the bar. He noticed as Beth and her friend stood off by a window and got into an animated discussion. If it was a fight, they quickly made up as Beth sat in a chair and pulled the busty blond down onto her lap and they necked like two horny teenagers. He wanted to get up and confront his wife about her infidelity. Then looking at his reflection, he envisioned that ending very badly. All he could do was sit there. Terrified of being discovered and drawing attention, he focused all of his mental resources on not jumping out of his skin and desperately trying to maintain the most feminine body language and presentation that he possibly could. Over the course of the evening, several ladies made their way to the bar to order drinks and tried what he imagined were pickup lines on him, but he simply ignored them. Around the time of his fifth martini, another woman came and stood next to him and wouldn't take the hint. She put her hand on his shoulder and forced Sam to face her. She got right in his face and said, "Hi. I'm Mary." She paused for a moment before continuing, "Do you come here often? I haven't noticed you before." Sam was paranoid that his voice would give him away despite the significant ambient noise the din of talk and music blaring, so he just responded with a dismissive little shrug. The girl tried for a bit to make small talk, but Sam's quietness and one-word answers eventually shut her down, and she gave him a bit of a dirty look as she returned to her seat. At first, Sam was a bit put off that she didn't simply assume that he was shy, but then he realized that "shy" was not a word that anyone would ever use to describe someone who looked like he did. Instead, the other girls seemed to conclude that he was being snobby and stuck-up. That hurt his feelings a little, but then he reminded himself that he really wasn't there to make friends. @ @ @ @ Sam had been there over four hours and had consumed way too many martinis. He had felt the need to pee a long time ago. Finally, he couldn't hold it in any longer. If he waited, he was going to pee his panties. He clumsily clambered off his stool, landing unsteadily on his feet. Trying to maintain a low profile was impossible. The sound of his heels clicking on the tiled floor sounded loud and clear over the music and other background sounds. He paused when he rounded the corner. There were three doors - 'gents', 'gals' and 'whatever'. Sam debated and finally went in the third door. He walked in and closed the door, on one wall were two pink porcelain urinals alongside a tampon dispenser. Sam stopped in front of one. He pulled his dress up and tried to fish his little man out of its hiding place. He grimaced as his long nails poked his jewels painfully. He gritted his teeth and managed to get his thing out. He did his business, then washed his hands, touched up his lipstick and made his way back to his seat. Sam had lost sight of his wife as he clambered back to his stool. He had just got comfortable when he felt someone standing next to him. She ordered two gin and tonics. As Fred went off to make the drinks, Sam glanced up and saw it was Beth standing there. He thought he was having a stroke; his heart went out of rhythm and he felt he was going to fall off the stool. She put her hand casually on Sam's shoulder. She leaned in close to be heard over the music. "I have been watching you tonight. I love your dress. I have one exactly like it. Mine is home hidden in the closet." Her hand softly stroked his back tracing the outline of his bra straps. She went on, "Of course I don't fill it out as well as you do." Fred brought over her drinks. She said, "Thanks Fred. Add these to my tab. Would you have a pen I can use?" Fred reached into his pocket and handed her a pen. Beth took a napkin and scribbled something on it. She slid it over in front of Sam and said "Here is my phone number, give me a call sometime. I really think you're hot. I bet we would make a great couple." @ @ @ @ When Beth left with her two drinks, Fred came over and said, "Sam, that lady really has the hots for you." He glanced up at Fred through his long fake eyelashes and then looked away and pursed his lips. "That Fred was no lady, that is my wife." The look on Fred's face was priceless. As a bartender, he had heard a lot of strange stories, but this was a topper. "You're shitting me! Here have another drink, this one is on the house." Sam waved the drink away, common sense filtering through the alcohol. "No, I'm serious. It seems my wife is a lesbian." "Sam, don't jump to any conclusions. What makes you so sure your wife's companion has girly bits between her legs? I have seen stranger things working here." "Oh great, Fred. My wife is cheating on me with a woman or the prettiest transvestite around. @ @ @ @ Beth carried the drinks back to their table and handed Holly, her employee and date, her drink. Holly glared at Beth. "Beth you know how insanely jealous I get. We only recently became an item. Tonight, is going to be the first time we can be intimate and not have to worry about your dud of a husband. I am so turned on my pussy is throbbing. I would hate to think you are ready to trade me in for a newer model before I can show you what real pleasure is all about? "Why did you ever marry that wanker? He doesn't sound like much of a man. Didn't you tell me his is doing all the housework?" Beth shrugged. "Yes, that is his roll. some people are meant to be mothers and homemakers and some of those people happen to be men. Sam just happens to be one. "Our sex life was really good at first. It all changed when I was no longer financially dependent on his generosity. I guess his male ego couldn't handle my independence. After that sex, was almost an ordeal. Neither of us tried and we just went through the motions. He stopped asking and I never volunteered. Our passion just died out." Holly nodded, judgmentally. "I see." She left it there. "I'll see if I can't ignite the spark of passion in you. Who was that skank you were visiting with at the bar?" Beth put her hand over Holly's. "Relax honey, I am looking forward to tonight as much as you are. I really don't know who she is, she just looked familiar. I can't place where I have seen her before, but give me time it will come to me." Holly stared at the woman perched on the bar stool and commented, "If I had ever met someone with a figure like that, I wouldn't forget her." Holly pulled Beth to her lap and pulled her in close, and teasingly said "Now where we?" She pulled Beth's head so their lips melded into a toe-curling kiss." @ @ @ @ Back at the bar, the boys were oblivious to the drama going on at the other side of the club. "Hey Sam, don't underestimate your presentation. I am just being a male chauvinist pig here. You are a walking, jiggling, clich? of the male sex fantasy of a woman." Sam blushed and peered up at Fred through the hairs of his wig and glanced away. "Fred, be serious look at that creature. She is gorgeous. No way that is a man!" Fred turned to Sam and looked him over and looked at Sam like he was sizing up a perspective date. He gave his honest opinion, "Sam, she is pretty, but so are you." "Right until I open my mouth." Fred smiled. "Sam have you heard your wife's friend speak? Only Beth will know the truth. You know what they say, there is a little woman hidden in every man." @ @ @ @ Sam thought that over for a brief moment. "Fred, if that is a man, it only makes Beth's betrayal worse. I have no idea what to do now. Do I go home and pretend tonight never happened?" Fred gave that some thought, then said, "What if she knows who Samantha really is? Maybe she showed up here with a friend to make you suffer for hiding Samantha." "Just how would she know I was here?" "Sam, how did you get here tonight?" "I drove my car." "And where is that car now?" "It's in your parking lot." "Tell me do I confront her on her infidelity?" Fred looked at him and smiled. "How do you suppose you can claim the moral high ground? It seems to me you are caught on the horns of a dilemma." Sam sighed. "Boy, aren't you an expert at giving advice?" Fred smiled. "Well it is in my job description." "Then please help me. Tell me what do I do now?" "Well you could hire a detective to follow Beth. Or you could be honest and tell her all about Samantha and see what happens." In response to Sam's groan, Fred continued, "there is the third option. Work on your voice and call that number and go on a date as Samantha." Sam scrunched up his face and replied, "Come on Fred. There has to be something I can do that won't end in divorce or disgrace." @ @ @ @ Fred took a deep breath, he turned to the readers and asked, "How would you like to see this story go? There are almost unlimited plot lines that can spin off from here." Please help me to finish this story, either leave your thoughts in the comment section or email me at [email protected] Thanks