Sunday, 1 May 2011

Mrs and Ms Regan

Angela Regan gathered her things and left work at a run, speaking to no-one on her way out. Her friends and colleagues were surprised to see her usually placid features etched with worry and anxiety.

Angela climbed into her car and drove like a woman possessed. During the long drive, she composed herself and went over in her mind what had happened to her husband, David.

She had received a telephone call from the local constabulary - in Kent - informing her that her husband had been involved in a road traffic accident (RTA in police speak). David's injuries were not life threatening or anything, but he had been taken to hospital.

Angela was concerned for her husband's health, obviously. In spite of the fact that they grown apart in recent years and were almost like strangers to one another, Angela still cared for her husband of thirty years.

But her overriding concern was to establish what was going on. The RTA had occurred near Tunbridge Wells in Kent. David had told her that he was going for a weekend business meeting in Leeds, hundreds of miles north of Kent, so what the hell was he doing in Tunbridge Wells?

Angela finally arrived at the hospital where David had been taken. Angela spoke with the Consultant, a brisk, efficient woman called Mary Lake, who assured her that apart from some broken ribs and some other superficial injuries, David should be fine, although he would have to stay in hospital for a few days.

On the way to see her husband, Angela was accosted by another brisk and efficient female, who called herself Sergeant Badman and who asked her for a moment of her time. The Sergeant took Angela into an unoccupied office. Angela wondered what all this was about. It was a simple traffic accident, in which she had not been involved at all.

Sergeant Badman told her that the driver of the other vehicle had admitted responsibility for the collision. He couldn't have done much else, as he had been breathilised and the result had been positive. So, David would not have to worry about facing any charges.

The Sergeant then shifted uncomfortably and turned her eyes to the ground, not wanting to meet Angela's gaze.

"What is it, Sergeant?" Angela demanded of her.

"What did your husband tell you of his movements and activities, Mrs Regan?

Angela shrugged "He told me he was going on a business trip to Leeds. David is the Managing Director of an engineering firm. He's always away somewhere, on some business trip". David's frequent absences on these "business trips" had been a bone of contention between them. How many business trips could the MD of a small engineering firm need to have, for pity's sake?

Badman frowned "Mrs Regan, it probably isn't my place to say anything, but when we recovered your husband's car we found some....things.....that would suggest that whatever your husband was planning to do, it was nothing to do with business".

"Things? What things?"

Badman looked embaressed, as if she would rather be anywhere else "We checked out your husband's luggage. It was filled with ladies' clothing. There was also this". The police officer handed her a pamphlet.

Thoroughly confused by all that she had heard so far, Angela glanced down at the leaflet.

"Tranni World: Tunbridge Wells - 3rd to 5th March 2011

A weekend extravaganza for men who want to be ladies...."

There was the image of a rather tall, burly man, complete with a bushy moustache, wearing a flowery frock, high heels and a curly blonde wig. He carried a handbag in one hand and had the other manicured and varnished hand placed on his hip in an attempt at a ladylike pose.

Angela couldn't read anymore and tore her eyes away from the pamphlet. She suddenly felt very dizzy.

The next thing Angela knew, Sergeant Badman was shaking her awake. "Are you OK? You fainted dead away there!"

Angela felt groggy. Her mind was still trying to comprehend the reality that her husband had been going to attend a tranny convention with a suitcase filled with women's clothes.

Her man was a tranny!

Angela still found it hard to believe. In thirty years of marriage, David had acted out the alpha male role. He was the man of the house. He made the decisions. Angela's role had been defined to support his. In addition to running the business he had inherited from his father, David played golf, football and cricket and he was an officer in the Territorial Army.

Their family was still run, more or less, on traditional lines. The man was in charge and the woman supported him. The children, two lovely and clever daughters, were at university. The girls would graduate, have successful careers and start their own families in due course, but they would never be under their parents' control again.

Angela was aware from her friends, work colleagues and newspapers that the old patriarchal system was breaking down elsewhere. Boys weren't doing as well at school as girls, career opportunities for women had never been better whilst the traditional male jobs were dwindling with each successive recession. Most women Angela knew outearned their husbands and boyfriends and many men Angela knew were unemployed (and unemployable). Yet all these changes had largely passed her family by. 2011? It might as well be 1961 as far as her husband was concerned.

Angela had had to fight to allow herself to go to college and re-train in marketing and then had to fight to persuade her husband to let her work. He had, grudgingly, given way. Angela's new career had gone well, she had progressed, and she was on the verge of being offered a partnership.

A partnership would mean everything to her, but it would create more friction in her marriage, as her promotion would mean that she would be earning more than David. Angela had sensed another long battle ahead to get him to accept what would be an unacceptable situation for him.

The thought of her misogynist alpha male that was her husband as a tranny was absolutely unbelievable!

Angela bade the Sergeant goodbye and went to see her husband.

David lay on the hospital bed, looking wan. He had some scratches and bruises and his ribs were strapped up, but he was conscious. He could not look Angela in the eye.

Angela initially played the wifely role and asked him how he was and how he was feeling. Once he confirmed that he was fine, Angela decided not to pussyfoot around.

"David.....we need to talk about your.....situation".

David's head went down. He couldn't look his wife in the eye. He should be embaressed, Angela thought. Outwardly, he had played the Alpha Male, but in secret he had indulged himself by wearing ladies's clothing and becoming the little woman he had made Angela play for so many years!

"David....look at me please".

David looked up at her. He looked so lost and vulnerable. He was waiting for her to speak, hanging on her every word.

"How long have you been dressing up in womens' clothes?" Angela asked him.

David mumbled something about him trying on his sister's bridesmaid's dress when he was about ten. He had liked the frills and lace on the dress and he had liked the feel of the material. He became positively hooked. He had worn his sister's clothes at every opportunity and then he had met me. In order to win Angela's heart, he had had to suppress the urge to dress.

In fact, Angela thought, this little confession answered a puzzle that had been in her mind for years. Why it was that David had been acting like the complete alpha male when other husbands she knew had adapted to the new world that was emerging where not only were women becoming equal to men, but were surpassing them. Now Angela had her answer. In an attempt to cover up his feminine side, he had gone overboard and become an oppressive, domineering husband.

At least, Angela thought with a measure of glee, those days are now over. Now that she knew his secret, he won't be playing the alpha male again.

David went on to say that he had managed to fight the urge to dress, until about four years ago. It had been four years ago since Angela had left behind her primary role as homemaker and had become a career woman. It was also about the time she had largely stopped wearing skirts and dresses, high heeled shoes and using cosmetics. Her wardrobe consisted of the trouser suits now favoured by most working women, a couple of decent frocks for formal occasions, a couple of skirts for summer wear and a greatly outdated and unworn quantity of dresses, blouses and skirts. Her high heeled shoes had sat in her closet for years, never seeing the light of day, and her make up table was unused. It stayed in the bedroom only because she couldn't be bothered to move it. Angela had long ago ceased to wear the frilly lingerie of the wife and wore plain pants and bras.

In short, work had not only liberated Angela and made her independent of her husband, but it had also de-feminised her. Unbeknowst to Angela, the absence of the "feminine" Angela tipped David back into feminising himself, in secret.

The poor dear was plainly embaressed and humiliated to have to admit that he enjoyed wearing womens' things. He could barely look at Angela. At last, he whispered "What are you going to do? Are you going to leave me?"

Angela realised with a flash that in an instant the power in their relationship, which had mainly been in David's hands for the last thirty years, had now been transferred to her. She could walk away from her marriage and take half of everything he owned with her. She had the right, as David had been cross-dressing since before they met and he had never admitted it to Angela. He had probably feared that the knowledge of his true nature would have put me off him. He was probably right.

But, after thirty years of marriage and with an older head, Angela decided that she was not going to leave him. Not over this. In fact, her heart went out to the poor man. Since he was a boy, he had only wanted what all females could take for granted. The right to wear what they liked, no matter how pretty and feminine.

"No, David, I'm not going to leave you" Angela told him. David sagged with relief.

"But there are conditions. Firstly, I want my own bank account and control of the money that I earn. Then I want some help around the house. Hiring a cleaner for a few hours a week will do. And if I want to go out with my friends, I don't want any objections from you! OK?"

David was silent. Oh no, thought Angela he's going to be all macho again and try and stand his ground!

"If you don't like those conditions David...."

"It's not that!" David blurted out "I can't give you your own bank account because if I do, I'll have no money!"

"David, what on earth do you mean? You own your own business!"

"Not anymore. It went under two months ago. We lost an order and the liquidators moved in. Your income has been keeping us going since then".

Angela was stunned by this news "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was too ashamed. I inherited that business from my father, and now I've lost it and have to rely on my wife to support me. It's so humiliating!". To Angela's horror, he began crying. Angela put her arms around him and comforted him. He had clearly been through a miserable period.

"Don't worry, David. You lost an order and your business. These things happen. I'm sure you did all you could. There's no shame in my supporting you. You supported me for years when I brought up the girls, remember?"

David nodded gratefully.

"OK, we 'll keep the joint account, but from now on, I'm taking charge of the family finances, as I earn the money".

David nodded again, accepting the decision.

"Good. I'll leave you to get some sleep now and we can talk about the future later".

Angela stayed at a local hotel and visited David every day. Finally, a week after the accident, David was discharged. Angela picked him up in her own car, since his had been written off in the collision, and drove them home.

When Angela stopped the car, she turned to her husband and said "David.....I'd like you to dress up for me". She was curious to see what her husband would look like as a woman. It had been on her mind since she had found out about him dressing up.

David looked flustered "Oh, but all my things were in the car. I expect the police have them now" and then he looked embaressed again as his mind envisaged Sergeant Badman, or someone like her, opening up his cases and finding sexy lingerie and pretty frocks inside.

Angela smiled at him "I got your luggage back from the police. Other than visiting you, I had nothing else to do. I did take a peek inside. You have some nice things". Actually, apart from the dainty lingerie, which was new, the rest of the stuff was old and dated and clearly bought from charity shops. Angela had already decided that a shopping exhibition was in order to get David some new clothes.

David went crimson.

Angela smiled at him again "There's nothing to be embaressed about. You're a man in touch with his feminine side. Why shouldn't you wear what you want? Now, I'll run you a bath and you can decide what YOU want to wear!"

David smiled at her in gratitude.

Angela waited in trepidation as her husband took his bath, got dressed, and put on his wig and make up. She could hear him moving about upstairs and then, suddenly, he was in the room.

Angela was startled by the transformation, for instead of the husband she was all too familiar with, what appeared to be another woman stood in her living room. A stranger, but not a stranger at all.

David was five feet and nine inches in height, taller than the average woman, but not too tall. There were a lot of six feet plus women around these days. He was wearing a white embroidered blouse, a pale pink cardigan, a long, burgundy coloured skirt, richly embroidered, and which was puffed out by some lacy petticoats. He wore thick black stockings and a pair of shiny black high heels. David had bangles on his arms and some jewelled rings on his fingers. He carried a large pink handbag with an air born of practice.

Angela looked at him with curiousity. She could tell from the size of his waist that he must be wearing a corset or a waspie. No man's waist could be that tiny without help. Luckily, David had small hands and feet. His hands looked very delicate with rings on and with his nails painted a pale shade of pink. Angela guessed that his toenails were painted in the same colour, but his feet were ensconsed in the high heels. David's make up was flawless. Angela was stunned at his skill with cosmetics and with the effect. David's features were both lovely and extremely feminine, especially those very kissable pink coated lips! David also wore a long, blonde, curly wig that framed his face perfectly and the gorgeous curls fell to his shoulders.

But, the biggest difference in David's appearance was the presence of a large pair of breasts on his chest area. Angela knew that they were artificial breastforms, but she marvelled at how realistic they were. The shape and the way they wobbled slightly as David walked were exactly the same as if he had been born with them.

Angela thought he looked adorable. Her only criticism was the over use of the colour pink. David either genuinely liked the colour or, like most men, so associated pink with femininity that wearing something pink was obligatory when cross-dressing.

Angela suddenly felt inadequate. As a woman. Beside this delightfully feminine creature. It was hard to believe that underneath the veneer of femininity was a red blooded male who had fathered her children.

David gave her a graceful little twirl which made his skirts and petticoats fly out. Angela giggled at how girlish the gesture was.

"What do you think?" David asked her. His masculine voice ruined the illusion for Angela. Perhaps some speech therapy could help soften his voice, she thought. Then she realised, I'm totally buying into this! Turning my husband into a woman! But she was not bothered by the thought. In fact, she really liked it.

Angela answered his question by walking over to him and giving him a deep kiss. She was suddenly aware that she was turned on by the sight of her husband in skirts "I think" she said in a husky voice "that we should go to bed!"

David stripped down to his underwear to reveal that he was wearing red lacy french knickers. He was about to remove his breastforms but Angela told him to leave them on. She badly wanted to fondle those breasts. Angela, aroused, was the sexual aggressor and the leader. In the days when they had still had a sex life, David had been the dominant partner. Now that was reversed and Angela was in complete control.

Once their urges had been sated, Angela ordered David to get dressed and cook them a meal. From now on, he would be doing all of the cooking, cleaning and all of the other household chores. Angela had thought he might rebel at this, but instead he seemed happy at the prospect. A traditionally feminine role as a housewife in all but name went well with his femme persona.

David cooked them a delicious meal. He knew how to dress and accessorise, apply make up with a skill that a real woman would envy and he could cook better than Angela herself could. Angela was amazed at her husband's up till now hidden talents. If only he had told me years ago! Then he could have stayed at home with the girls instead of me. He makes a better housewife than I ever was!

"Thanks for the meal...David....say, do you use a feminine name when you're all dressed up?"

In spite of the layer of make up, Angela could tell he had reddened slightly. He was still not entirely comfortable with her seeing him like this. Angela was totally comfortable with it. She loved her husband more than ever when he was dressed en femme.

"Yes" answered David "I call myself Charlotte".

Angela couldn't help it, she giggled "Charlotte. I like it. Great choice. Ok, when we're alone, I'll call you by your girl name from now on. So, Lottie, get the dishes done like a good girl!" David scurried to obey.

He was a good girl, Angela thought. A very good girl.

Good girls deserve a reward, Angela was thinking the next morning after her pretty husband had served her breakfast in bed and ironed her clothes for her.

Once she was dressed, Angela shouted "Lottie, get your coat and handbag, we're going shopping!"

There was silence. Then, David's voice came back "You mean, I'm going out dressed like this? I'm not sure I can! They'll be other people about!"

"Yes, and all they'll see are two women doing some shopping. Have confidence in yourself. You look prettier and more womanly than I do!"

David was not convinced and it took all of Angela's powers of persuasion to get him into the car. He was incredibly nervous and trembling as they walked to the town's premier department store. He relaxed when he realised that no-one they passed gave him a second look.

Angela took him to ladieswear and told him to pick out some clothes for himself. David's face lit up with joy. He was like a kid being let loose in a candy store. Angela left him to browse whilst she opened an account and was given a store card. The account had a generous limit, but Angela wondered whether it would be enough when she saw David plucking dress after dress from the rails.

Angela had to take him in hand and get him to calm down. This she achieved by getting him to try on some of his prospective purchases and model them for her. David had a good eye for colour and style, Angela had to admit. In the past, when she had been the one who wore dresses, she had had little interest in clothes and just picked any old thing that fitted. I'm being completely out-womaned, she realised, and by my own husband!

In addition to more than a dozen dresses, several pairs of high heels, some exquisite lingerie, bras, satin pyjamas and a robe and some more skirts, blouses and stockings were added. The purchases had almost maxed out the account, but Angela thought it would be worth it to see her husband in all his new finery.

And it was. The new, modern style of clothes, with their rich colours and textures, enhanced David's appearance. And now his debut was out of the way, David was completely confident about going out in his female persona.

Angela returned to work. Her partnership, she had been told, was almost in the bag, but there was one more hoop she had to jump through. The annual ball. The company had made a lot of money over the last year, due in no small part to Angela herself, and rewarded its executives and managers with a big blow out meal at the town's five star restaurant.

Angela was told, informally, that she had to prove that she, and her partner, could handle themselves with appropriate decorum before the offer of a partnership would be forthcoming.

Angela was in a dilemma. What was she going to do about David? David spent all of his time now as Lottie. He was a wonderful househusband. The house was spotless, the meals perfectly cooked and on the table as soon as Angela returned. Lottie was a pretty, exquisitely dressed and obedient girl and in the bedroom the sex was mind blowing. Angela wouldn't change him for anything.

But there were limits. Pitching up with a cross-dressed husband on her arm to a career making (or breaking) event, no matter how lovely he looked was a big risk. Especially, as everyone at work had met David before he had become Lottie.

Angela talked it over with David. To her own surprise, she was the hesitant and doubtful one, and David, even dressed as he was at that moment in a pink cashmere sweater and denim mini skirt with his shaven legs on full show and his painted toenails peeping out of a pair of open toed pink high heels with heels so high that Angela really doubted if she could cope with walking in them, was the confident and decisive one.

Yet another startling role reversal, Angela thought.

"You should let me come, as Lottie. I have that gorgeous black evening gown, with lace trim that I'm dying to wear".

"No way! That thing is slit up to your waist! I won't know where to put my face if I take you along wearing that!"

David pouted "But I've got great legs! You said so yourself!"

"Yes, that's true, but I don't want them on show to the entire world! We're supposed to act 'with decorum and dignity', so you'll have to put off your skirts for now and come as David".

"No! I won't. Either I go in a dress or not at all!" David almost shouted. This was the first time since dressing full time that he had ever contradicted his wife. Usually, his femme self was the most submissive and obliging creature that Angela had ever met in her life.

Angela was stunned at this outburst. This event meant everything to her but it had not occurred to her that David's attendance as his true self - his femme self - meant everything to him too. Here goes my promotion, Angela thought.

"Ok, you can come as Lottie. But you'll wear what I tell you! Deal?"

David's face lit up "Deal!".

Then Angela was faced with another dilemma. What was she going to wear herself? She dreaded the idea of wearing a gown and heels. She hadn't worn such things for years. The idea of squeezing her body into a tight fitting gown and her feet into torturous heels was utterly alien to her now and her spirit rebelled at the notion. Yet, that was standard dress for a female.

It was again David who came up with the answer "We can't both wear gowns. You're now the 'man' in this relationship. You should hire yourself a tuxedo".

Angela was again stunned by the suggestion. Her in a tux? It was really breaking the rules. But the more she thought about it, the more she saw that, once again, her husband was right. She was now the masculine element of their relationship and so should dress appropriately. Besides, it would be more comfortable than a gown.

At the ball, Angela was twiddling with the bow tie of her tuxedo nervously. David, with his arm entwined with hers, wore a tasteful organdie frock with matching heels. His legs were stockinged at Angela's insistence.

Their appearance raised a few eyebrows but nothing had been said. Yet. Angela gulped, for Charles Brandon, the Senior Partner, the man who would ultimately make the decision as to whether or not Angela should be offered a partnership, was making his way over to her, with his wife, a tiny woman in a blue evening gown and sparkly tiara, in tow.

Charles frowned at Angela's appearance "Angela, my dear, I had expected you to be dressed in a fetching evening gown. And where is your husband?"

Well, I can live without the partnership, Angela thought. She took the plunge "I'm a working woman, sir, and I believe that I'm entitled to wear what I please and this evening I wanted to wear a tuxedo. And as for my husband, he's standing right next to me!"

The Brandons' jaws both dropped " your husband?" stuttered Mrs Brandon "I assumed that you must have become a lesbian and that that woman was your....girlfriend".

Angela smiled "I consider myself very lucky to have a husband who can also be a girlfriend".

Mrs Brandon asked "Do you make him dress like that?"

"No, Mrs Brandon. Like me, my husband believes that he should be allowed to dress as he pleases. The fact is, Mrs Brandon, is that we've recently discovered that although I am a female, I am not inclined to be feminine. My husband, although born and raised as a male, is actually more feminine than I am. So, we have more or less swapped not only our roles but our dress".

Mrs Brandon spoke to David "Tell me, Mr Regan..."

"I prefer Ms" David immediately corrected her.

Mrs Brandon did a doubletake "Tell me...Ms Regan....Do you actually enjoy dressing like that and doing all the usual household chores that the wife normally does? Don't you find it emasculating?"

David answered her immediately and with an air of confidence that Angela had never heard from him before "Mrs Brandon, I wouldn't want to wear anything else! And I love housework. It's as important to maintain a house and look after my wife as Angela's job! I'm instinctively a feminine male and so I love femininity. How can I be emasculated by my natural role?"

Angela felt like kissing him in gratitude. Sod the job, she thought, I am blessed with the most perfect husband in the world.

To Angela's astonishment, the Brandons were smiling. "Your family arrangement is unusual, but it seems to work well for you and you both seem very happy. Well done for not conforming to these antiquated conventions. I can't stand all of this formality".

"Perhaps next time Charles, we should trade clothes!" suggested Mrs Brandon "You'd look quite a peach in this gown and you'd know for yourself how painful it is to have to wear heels! I'm joking, dear!"

"Thank goodness for that!" said Charles "Well, Mrs and er...Ms Regan, it has been a pleasure to meet you and I hope that you enjoy the evening. The Brandons made a beeline towards another couple.

I think I've done it! Thought Angela. Correction, she thought, looking at her husband, We've done it!

"Angela?" came the voice of her boss, Mr Sanderson. Angela was an account manager and Sanderson was Head of her team. He was a narrow minded, petty control freak and he resented the fact that it looked like Angela was going to be promoted over him.

"What is it, Sam?' Angela asked him in the usual exasperated tone that she used when she had to talk to him.

"You're wearing a tux!"

"Well spotted. And your point is...?"

"'re a woman!"

"My, you ARE sharp today!"

"Women are meant to wear gowns to these sort of occasions!"

"Oh yeah, says who. I'm done with trying to fit into gowns that are too small for me and wearing high heels. I leave that to my husband!

"Your husband wears evening gowns and high heels?"

"Yep. You might want to try it yourself. You've got the figure for it and good legs!"

"Are you insane? What if the Brandons see you both dressed the way you are? You'll never make partner". There was a hint of malicious glee in his voice

"The Brandons have been, seen us and I think they actually quite liked us. Looks like I'm going to make partner after all!"

Sanderson looked deflated "I see".

"So, if you want to make partner too you might want to consider slipping into an evening gown and heels yourself! My husband has a cute pink number that you'd look very sweet in! The Brandons seem to like those who defy convention and the sight of you in an evening gown would definitely tick that box!"

Sanderson gave Angela a malacious glare before departing.

Yes! I enjoyed that! Thought Angela.

The rest of the evening went well. Taking their cue from the Senior Partner, the other guests were accepting of the couple and received many compliments.

The following week, Angela's partnership was confirmed and she and David received an invitation to dine with the Brandons, the ultimate confirmation that Angela was in favour.

At the dinner, with Angela again wearing a tux and David, now openly called Lottie by the Brandons, was wearing his black evening gown, slit to the waist to reveal a pair of stockinged and shapely legs, the couple extended an invitation to their hosts.

"We're going to renew our marriage vows" explained Angela "Lottie has formally changed her name from David to Charlotte, so we need a new marriage certificate! Lottie has chosen for herself a fabulous wedding dress and veil and I've bought her a new ring. We would be honoured if you would attend!"

"I've always dreamt of being a bride!" said a happy Lottie "And now my dream is coming true!"

"What a charming bride you will make, dear" gushed Mrs Brandon "We would love to come, wouldn't we Charles?"

"Yes, indeed" confirmed Charles.

The reaffirmation of their wedding vows was a very happy day for Angela and her radiant bride, Ms Charlotte Regan.


  1. The reaffirmation of their wedding in role reversal way is a happy end, isn't it?

  2. A perfect marriage. I have always wanted to be a bride and and wife.

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  4. I hope David reported the interfering bitch of a police woman and she was thrown off the force.

  5. Although this blog has been dormant for years I feel compelled to comment. Brilliant work! One of the most enjoyable stories I have ever read in the vast TG/TV/TS/etc. genre. If only we all felt comfortable communicating our needs and desires and were comfortable being ourselves and others were so accepting. Of course, the male was easily able to become a very convincing female, making it all possible, but this is fiction after all.