Monday, 6 September 2010

The Rebel - 2051

I rise early (5 am) from the four poster bed that I share with my wife, for I have much to do before she awakes.

I shower and use a man shaver to shave off all of my body hair to leave my body hairless. I dry myself off with a towel and moisterise my body with cocoa butter oil. I spray myself with a rose and lilac perfume, Sally's favourite scent.

I pull out my black sheer stockings and roll them up my hairless legs and then put on my suspender belt and attach the tabs to my stockings. I take a pair of white lace knickers and slip them on and then take out a matching boy-bra and put it on over my flat chest. I step into my silken petticoats and pull them up to my waist.

I go to my wardrobe and open it up to reveal a row of gorgeous dresses, blouses, skirts and shoes. I pull out a dress and hold it against my slender body. I decide that I will wear the dress and so put it on and do up the belt. The skirt of the dress is pushed out by the petticoats so that I cannot see my feet. I select a pair of matching high heeled shoes and slip them onto my feet.

I go to my vanity table and proceed to make up my face with a skill born of years of practice and transform a weary, vaguely masculine visage into a pretty face framed by long dyed blonde hair that cascades past my shoulders. Finally, I go downstairs to the kitchen and take my apron, a white cotton one trimmed with lace, breathe an inward sigh, and tie it around my slim waist.

I glance in the mirror to see myself -Sally's husband. That's how I'm known to all who know me. The appendage of a highly successful woman, not a person in my own right. I doubt that they even know my given name.

Putting thought aside, I launch into action. I get Sally's breakfast started, cook it and take it up to her on a tray. Mumbling something resembling good morning, Sally immediately attacked her breakfast, devouring it greedily and gulping down her coffee. During her feast, Sally managed to spill her drink and bade me to get her another. I obliged, observing with dismay that the bedsheets would need to be washed.

Whilst Sally was taking a bath, I ironed her shirt and shined her expensive shoes, taking these up to join her designer suit, of which Sally had several hanging in her wardrobe. Whilst Sally dressed, I roused our boy, Sammy, aged six. I helped him wash and get into his school uniform of frilly blouse, knee length skirt, anklets and black clumpy shoes. I brushed his fine long blonde hair and tied it into a ponytail and tied a blue ribbon on it before giving him his breakfast.

I then attended to the twins, Jessica and Josette, who were less than a year old. I helped them wash and dress also but put them into designer shirts and trousers before giving them their breakfast.

By the time the kids had finished breakfast, Sally appeared in her suit and carrying her briefcase. She spent a little time with the kids before rising, giving me a perfunctory kiss, and disappeared off to her high powered job in the city as Marketing Director for Lustrum Fashions, one of the biggest fashion houses in the country.

I was left with a large house to clean, a son to get to school and two daughters to mind. I got Sam ready for school, with the girls safely strapped in the back of the car and dropped Sam off. I then went to the megamarket, with two small girls in tow, and got the groceries in. Once I had put the groceries in the small runabout that was my car (Sally drove a sports car that I was forbidden to touch, much less drive), I treated myself and the girls to a drink in a cafe.

The girls were playing up something chronic, pulling each others hair and squealing and screaming. I tried to calm them down, but to no avail. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to the face of an angry young woman. I asked if I could help her. She responded that yes, I could help her by getting my bratty kids to shut up and give her some peace.

Sensing confrontation, I hastily grabbed the girls' hands and decided to exit the cafe, even though our cups were still half full. As I left, I heard the young woman exclaim something about men being absolutely useless, even at a simple task like looking after children.

The incident had shaken me somewhat, but thankfully, today, I could look forward to meeting my friends. They were coming round to my house. I put some bottles of wine in the fridge to chill and prepared some nibbles and did some light dusting in my apron until the boys arrived.

The boys were all sitting in my living room, all five of them, dressed in a similar way to myself. Some had brought their babies and small children and were hugging them or playing with them. We drank wine and exchanged gossip and news, chattering and laughing and playing with our children.

I went into the kitchen to fetch another bottle of wine and turn around in my high heels to find Graham standing there, wearing a rather pretty pink blouse and white skirt. I was confused to find him there and asked him what he wanted. He looked at me in an odd way and said that I might want to attend a meeting tonight that I might find interesting. I asked him what this meeting was about but he seemed reluctant to say more, which, annoyingly, made me intrigued, but in any event, I was the father of three children, I did not have time to attend any meeting.

Graham, normally so shy and docile, said that I should make time. His eyes were looking at my lacy apron, which I still wore. He was acting very strangely and seemed most insistent that I attend this "meeting". A part of me was intrigued and so I agreed, even though I was aware of the practical problems that would be caused.

Once the boys, and their children, had left, I had to arrange for my father in law to pick Sam up from school and to come to the house to pick up the girls. My father in law could take care of the kids until tomorrow but the hardest part was having to call Sally at work -which she hated - and tell her I would be out and her dinner would be in the oven. Sally was not happy - I could tell this - and would give me a hard time tomorrow, but to my relief accepted the situation. In fact, she seemed so preoccupied with whatever was going on in her world that she didn't even ask me what I was doing. The call ended abruptly as Sally terminated the call.

Relieved to have a free pass, once father had left with the kids and I had put Sally's dinner in the oven, I jumped into a taxi and met Graham in the public house he had suggested we meet in. The pub was in one of the rougher areas of town and I was surprised that Graham had arranged a meeting here. After buying drinks at the bar, Graham led me, to my surprise, down to the basement area of the pub. This caused me to become fascinated and nervous.

We emerged into a room in which, perhaps, two dozen men in their dresses and skirts, sat or stood about. Graham introduced me to some of them. Most of them were, like myself, full time homemakers and childraisers and husbands to successful wives. There were some single older and younger men. We were all seated with our skirts perfectly arranged and our handbags perched on our skirted laps.

Presently, another man emerged. He wore a simple cotton dress that fell to his ankles and he had no other adornments. He was a tall, impressively built man with penetrating eyes. At a cue from Graham, we burst into applause as he entered the room.

The man, who introduced himself as Ralph, smiled and thanked us effusively for our attendance and for our warm welcome. Then he did something that startled us all. Reaching round to the back of his dress, he undid it and allowed it to fall to the ground.

He wore what would now be termed a woman's suit underneath. Trousers, shirt, tie, jacket and flat shoes but somehow he did not look much like a woman at all. It was if the suit was natural for him.

Ralph allowed a few moments for the effect of his appearance on us to sink in before he spoke.

"Gentlemen, you are probably wondering why I am dressed like this. Let me answer your questions thus. As you know, once, a long time ago it now seems although in fact it was not that long ago, it was common for men to dress like this. It was also common for men to hold high status jobs and to be the heads of their families. It was also common for men to be allowed to be men. In a very short time, however, women have taken control of the economy and have taken over the roles and dress of men and have even taken over masculinity itself!"

A pause.

"Worst of all, men have been forced into femininity by women, for revenge and control. Just look at us. We have to depilate our bodies of the hair that is a badge of our maleness, wear feminine fragrances, frilly underwear, stockings, high heels make up, dresses and skirts. In short, women have become men and men have been made to become women. This is shameful and immoral and a perversion of the natural order".

Another pause.

"It is time for us men to become men again. This will not be easy, as women are in control of the state and in control of a large portion of our lives, but slowly and surely, we will reclaim our manhood".

As Ralph was speaking, Graham was handing out a blue pamphlet. I glanced at it. "Reclaiming our Masculinity by Ralph Remmer-Sinclair".

"Men" Ralph continued "I am hopeful that you will take some time to read my little pamphlet and act upon it. It is important for the future of our sons and grandsons that we act now to rebel against the femininity that has been imposed upon us. Thank you for your attention".

There was a ripple of applause from the audience and Ralph departed. Graham sidled up to me and sat beside me. I was holding the pamphlet, conflicting emotions and thoughts racing through my brain.

"Isn't Ralph simply amazing?" gushed Graham "He has such charisma, such a way with words....listen, we've been friends for a long time right?" without waiting for a reply, Graham plunged on "I can sense that you aren't happy as a feminised househusband, totally under the thumb of a woman. You have a brain, the capacity to be so much more than just a glorified maid! I'm right, aren't I?"

I nodded, with tears welling up in my eyes. With sudden realisation, I knew that I hated my life as it was now. In my youth, I had had such dreams and believed that I could make a difference in this world, but as soon as I had married Sally my world had become limited to our, no her, home and her children. I was less a husband than a maid and wetnurse. Graham was right about that.

Graham tenderly lay a hand upon my arm and gave it a light squeeze "This is a woman's world" he said "but we can strive to change that. Read the pamphlet and if you need me, you know how to find me. We can't meet here again for a while. Ralph fears the authorities will cotton on to us if we meet too often. Farewell for now, brother". Graham kissed me on the top of my head before leaving.

With a start, I realised that I had better leave too. This was not a good neighbourhood for a man to be wandering alone around in. I ordered a taxi and was driven home. I got home and realised that, for a few hours at least, I had the place to myself for a while. Sally was upstairs in bed, having left behind her the debris of her meal that she expected me to clear up. For once, I turned my back on the carnage and pulled out the pamphlet from my handbag and began to read it.

It began with a potted history of gender relations that everyone knew. Men had once been the dominant sex and had subjugated women but now the tables had been turned, resulting in a complete reversal of the traditional gender roles, dress and behaviours.

Ralph said that the current female-dominated world was a perversion of nature. Men were born to rule and provide and women to serve and be dependent upon the male. Men should be masculine and women should be feminine and this reality should never be blurred, let alone reversed.

Yet, Ralph conceded, this reversal had occurred and men were now living in a nightmare world where they were being forced to dress, behave and assume the traditional role of the woman in all aspects of their lives.

Men needed to reclaim their natural masculinity and to do it subtly by small acts of rebellion, growing into larger acts, and then outright rebellion until women realised that they couldn't treat men as they did any more.

I studied the pamphlet with great interest and resolved to become a rebel, reading it into the morning.

The following morning, Sally awoke to my smiling face, presenting her with her breakfast. I had even added a grapefruit, one of Sally's favourite dishes. I played the dutiful husband-cum-maid to perfection.

As Sally was getting ready to leave, I asked her for some money, for extra groceries and other necessities. Sally was in a good mood today and handed me some notes, along with a peck on the cheek.

After dropping Sammy off at school, I went shopping with the money that Sally had given me, plus what I had managed to save from my housekeeping money and birthday gifts of cash, with my daughters in tow.

I returned home, gave the girls their food and put them to bed for an afternoon nap. I then undressed, removing my frilly knickers and matching boy-bra, and tossed these symbols of my femininity onto the bed for now. I took out my new purchase, a pair of plain cotton whote underpants, the type normally worn by women and slipped them on. I put my dress and other outer clothes back on with a smug sense of satisfaction that nobody knew, or would know, that I was wearing masculine underwear and was, shockingly, going bra-less! Going bra-less was a big no-no for men but I was in no mood to go along with convention.

I took my discarded boy-bra and knickers out to the garden, fired up the compost burner and fed my former underwear to the flames. This must have been how women felt when they burnt their bras in the last century - a liberating experience. Goodbye feminine lingerie. It was time to be a true man again.

Over the next few weeks, I followed the other suggestions offered in the pamphlet. I now wore no feminine lingerie, I was letting my body hair grow, wore no fragrances, wore minimal make up and had discarded my petticoats in favour of dresses and skirts that did not need petticoats. I cunningly lowered the height of my shoes incrementally so that the lowering of my shoe height would be barely noticeable.

Sally certainly did not notice the changes in my appearance. She was far too focused on her job to care what I did. Finally, I bought myself a suit and wore it as often as possible when Sally was not around. This was really rebellious. Wearing trousers and flat shoes. But it made me feel more masculine and more powerful. I was reluctant to have to don my skirts again for Sally's return.

A few weeks later, Graham called me on my mobile to let me know that there was another meeting, in a different location from last time to avoid detection. Two days later, I was in the basement of another public house with a group of men. Most of us had put off our feminine attire and were wearing men's suits and brogues.

Ralph was greatly pleased to see so many of us attempt to re-claim our masculinity. The sight of so many men in trousers was an unusual one. The power of the wearer of a suit and flat shoes to stride and sit confidently as opposed to taking dainty steps in high heels and having to manage a full skirt and petticoats was intoxicating. No wonder women thought they ruled the world and men felt so inferior!

We men began talking, really talking, about the lot of men in what was a woman's world. Why was it that women held all the power and wealth? Why shouldn't men be entitled to hold down good, well paid jobs, have rights to better education? Why was it men's lot just to clean a woman's house and take care of her children?

Ralph interupted us to speak "Gentlemen, it gladdens my heart to see you attired as men should be attired and asking important questions about the plight of men in this world. Women control everything and expect men to run around after them and look after their children. This is unacceptable. Men deserve equality. Men deserve to be treated fairly. Men deserve to be allowed to be men. I am pleased, no proud, to be able to announce the birth of the movement for change and for equal rights for men!"

There was a thunderous round of applause from all present. But even as I clapped enthusiastically with the others I was apprehensive at Ralph's mention of a movement. That implied a presence beyond these clandestine, harmless meetings. Did I want to get involved with politics? How would the authorities react?

Once the applause had died down, Ralph spoke again "I know what you must be thinking, what can we, a few men, do against the power of the female dominated state, but we must do something to show these women that we men will no longer tolerate being treated as their inferiors. I propose a rally, with as many men as we can gather, dressed as we are today. Can you imagine the look on the faces of womankind to see man in his proper attire again, protesting against them?"

The other men applauded and I followed suit but I wasn't convinced that this was such a good idea. Any underground movement should grow gradually and secretly until it became powerful enough to show its face.


Ralph thanked us and dismissed us, saying he would be in contact soon. The others left, in a state of excitement, but I was unsure about the future.

I returned home to the news that Sally had been invited to a work social tomorrow night and that husbands were invited. Sally gave me a wad of notes and an instruction that she expected me to be suitably attired. Normally that would mean a revealing dress, stockings, lacy lingerie, full make up and hair styling and impossibly high heeled shoes.

I dutifully went to the salon and got my hair styled into a bouffant, and my nails painted. As to my outfit, I decided to be little defiant. I bought a full length black dress, would go bra-less and wear women's pants and no stockings. My heels were only two inches and I would wear minimal make up. My body was sprouting hair all over the place and my eyebrows were bushy.

I took Sally's arm to go to the social, she only made a comment that the skirt of my dress could have been shorter to show off my legs but otherwise she did not notice my unkempt appearance.
The social was being held in a fancy restaurant. The women executives were all there in their tuxedos and smoking cigars and talking business whilst their male spouses in their dresses and high heels stood in a huddle talking about their children and gossip they had picked up.

The plucked, arched eyebrows of the men were raised when they took in my appearance and comments were made about me having let myself go but for once I didn't care what these parodies of manhood thought of me. I went to the men's powder room to touch up my make up. I lightly reapplied some lipstick and blusher and slipped the applicators and compact back into my handbag when I felt a hand fondling my bottom. I jumped with fright and almost screamed like a little boy.

Then I realised that the hand exploring my buttocks belonged to Angela Cassidy, the CEO, and my wife's boss. Angela was in her fifties and so a good ten years older than me. She looked good for her age, but then she was a multi-millionnaire and could afford treatments to hold back the years. She had had a little too much to drink. Her breath stank of the expensive champagne that she drank.

Her pale blue eyes looked into mine with a startling intensity "I've always fancied you" she murmured. Then she became frustrated and I smiled as I realised the source for her frustration. My dress was way too long for her slip her hands up the skirt and fondle me in my most intimate areas. She tried to kiss me, but I held her back.

I attempted to reason with her. "Ms Cassidy, I'm a married man. My wife would kill me if she found me in the arms of another woman".

Angela laughed "Your wife is one of my subordinates. I own her. And she owns you! If she has any sense she won't dare interfere. Now, take off that darned dress boy!" she ordered.

"Please, Ms Cassidy, I'm a gentleman! My sense of modesty..."

But to my horror, Angela had lost patience and, with surprising ferocity and strength, had spun me around and was unzipping my dress. Before I could react, the dress was around my feet. Angela, though, had been transformed from a predator to a stunned mute as she took in my appearance sans the dress.

Expecting to see a totally hairless body, clad in black stockings, boy-bra and flimsy lingerie, Angela was treated to the sight of a hairy male, bra-less and wearing women's pants. Angela became speechless, went white and pushed past me to get to one of the cubicles and was violently sick. At least, I thought, she was no longer interested in me.

Angela emerged from the cubicle, her suit stained with flecks of her own vomit, and cleaned herself up as best as she could before leaving. As she left, she turned to me and spat "pervert!" at me before slamming the door shut behind her. I felt a sense of victory at having had an advantage over a woman, for perhaps the only time in my life. Had I been dressed "normally", I would have merely been a plaything, an amusement, but dressed as I was I had averted that fate.

The party went on interminably. Angela had, for form's sake, remained the gracious hostess and was all smiles and hospitality even though she was still disturbed by our encounter. I was worried that she might talk to Sally about my attire until I realised that I was safe. Angela couldn't criticise my underwear and personal hygiene to Sally without revealing that she had seen my body and my underwear. Sally considered me to be hers and would protect me against the predatory advances of other women.

I was glad when we could finally leave. Sally had had a little too much to drink too and was tipsy. I had to guide her to the taxi and put her to bed when we got home. She was grumpy and out of sorts when I had to wake her for work the next morning.

When Sally came home that evening though, she was furious. I knew she had a temper, but this was something else. She threw vases and other ornaments at the walls and used most unladylike language about Angela Cassidy before collapsing into a sobbing mess on the sofa. I instinctively put my arms around her and asked her what was wrong.

Sally stiffened and pushed me away and for a moment I feared that she knew what had happened the previous night between myself and Angela but to my relief Sally said that she had been passed over for the promotion she had hoped for. She couldn't understand what had gone wrong. Angela had more or less told her she had the job in the bag and then had for some reason changed her mind at the last minute.

I felt guilty as I realised that what had happened last night was the catalyst that had denied my wife her promotion. But I dare not tell her this. I did what I could to comfort her before she went to bed, but she shrugged me off. She got up early the next morning and left without saying goodbye.

Meanwhile, I had received a text from Graham, asking that I attend a rally that same day, attired in my suit and ready to protest. I deposited the girls with the neighbours and drove out, all the way worrying that it would all go hideously wrong. A few guys in suits against the power of the state? It seemed insane, utterly insane.

I arrived at the rally. A suprisingly large number of suited men were congregated in the town square, where Ralph was addressing the world at large through a megaphone, demanding respect and equality for men.

We were all of the time surrounded by a wall of female police officers. They did nothing but look at us with stony faces. They made no attempt to break the rally up. Ralph seemed puzzled and disappointed by the lack of response from the authorities. There weren't even any hecklers. It then dawned on me that, other than the demonstrators, nobody could care less what we did or what we said. We were only men, after all.

The realisation dawned on Ralph too and he seemed to shrink in stature. He suddenly packed up and left and we all dispersed. I was secretly glad that nothing worse had happened and went home to resume my life.

On the walk home, a car drew up alongside me and two plainclothes female FBI agents took me into custody. I spent the night in a police cell, cursing myself for my stupidity and worrying about Sally, Sam and the twins.

During the night I was roughly awoken and interviewed by the two agents. They were tough, hard characters and a male mind was no match for that of a woman, let alone two of them. I proved an easy conquest, even for a male, they told me, as they got me to confess to "subversive activities prejudicial to the state" and to tell them everything about my association with Ralph and his movement before being returned to my cell.

The following morning, Sally came to visit me. She was furious, and I couldn't blame her for that, and she really laid into me. How could I be so irresponsible, so thoughtless, to get involved with such people? She was really angry that I had left the twins with neighbours, putting myself before the wellbeing of our children. What was I thinking? She had secured my release, without charge on this occasion, by promising to assume responsibility for my behaviour in the future.

Sally said she was thinking of divorcing me. I was a liability. I grew frightened. Divorce was the worse thing that could happen to a man. Under the law, the wife owned every material thing, even the clothes on my back, and she would be automatically granted custody of any children of the marriage. I'd lose my home and children and be forced to earn a living. I had never worked, so what chance did I have? I begged Sally to re-consider.

Sally said that she would re-consider, but would have to impose conditions. My odd behaviour, dressing in suits and women's underwear would have to stop and I would have to become the model husband. To this I agreed. But there was one more condition, Sally said, with a smile.

A day later, I lay on the four poster bed. My hairless body was dressed in a shocking pink basque, with matching knickers, black stockings and impossibly high heeled shoes. My hair and make up were immaculate and made me look very feminine and vulnerable. My black little black dress lay on the floor in a crumpled heap.

Sally entered the room and looked at me, and nodded approvingly. She would have a very satisfying night using me as she saw fit, whilst I would submit and try to please her. This was Sally's whim, to force me to conform to femininity. All masculine instincts that had been dormant within me were to be extinguished. Forever.

4 comments:

  1. It's not good for womankind permit males to rebel especially wear woman's clothes like trousers. ;)

    ReplyDelete
  2. seriously man wearing a bra despite being breastless

    ReplyDelete
  3. I don't understand how a woman would force a man into a dress

    ReplyDelete