Brucie's Makeover

Richie Madison was worried about his father.

His father, Bruce, aged 57, had come to live with Richie and his wife after his divorce from his wife of 32 years standing.

He had turned up on his son's doorstep with just one suitcase and a duffel bag, depressed and with the air of a defeated man.

He had hardly spoken since his arrival. He just stayed in the guest bedroom alloted to him and ate his meals with his son's family in silence before retreating to his room again for the rest of the evening.

Lydia, Richie's wife, took him aside one evening for one of her "serious discussions" that she occasionally had with her husband. Lydia, like most women nowadays, worked a full-time job and was the breadwinner and head of the household. Like most men of his generation, Richie stayed at home and did the housework. He was the anathema of what his father expected a man to be - a kept man.

Like most modern couples in the 21st Century, Lydia wore the trousers. Quite literally, since she wore habitually wore a black trouser suit with a plain white shirt and flat shoes. Richie knew that she wore a plain sports bra and boxers under her suit. Lydia, like most women of her generation, had long ago forsaken make up and jewellery and wore her blonde hair cropped short.

By stark contrast, Richie, like most young men, wore the skirts in the relationship. He was presently wearing a pretty purple frock, over which he wore his frilly apron. His legs were encased in shiny black stockings, attached to a garter belt under his frock. Underneath the frock, Richie wore a matching white satin bra and pantie set. Presently, Richie wore pink fluffy slippers, but should he go outside, he would exchange them for a smart, shiny pair of black high heels.

Richie had to dress like this because his wife insisted. As she earned the money, this gave her the power in their relationship. She had also insisted on Richie depilating his body hair and paid for him to go to a beauty salon once a week for his manicure, pedicure, facial and waxing. Richie had to wear his hair long and get it styled and dyed in whatever colour his wife fancied at any given time. Richie had, over the course of their five year marriage, been a blonde, a brunette and a redhead. Actually, Richie had liked being a redhead, but after a month Lydia insisted that he dyed his hair black, his current colouring.

Lydia also liked him to wear some of the earrings and necklaces she always bought him for birthdays and christmases. More than anything, and which Richie had detested most when he had had to make the transition from masculine to feminine male, Lydia liked to see him made up. So, every morning, Richie had to sit in front of his vanity and apply cosmetics to his face. His masculine spirit had rebelled, but his will was no match for that of Lydia, and he had to submit to what he considered a degrading experience.

Still, he reflected, he was the best dressed househusband in the street. He had a wardrobe full of designer dresses and high heeled shoes and he wore the most expensive perfumes and make up. He was envied by other men and admired by their wives for his taste and his femininity.

Richie's mind snapped back to his wife. Lydia was talking to him. No actually, she was talking at him, like he was dog or something. Richie had resented this at first, just as he had hated it when he had been feminised, but he was now used to it. He had even come to like wearing gorgeous dresses and silky lingerie.

"...I want him out of this house, pronto, mister!" Lydia was barking at him.

"But, darling, he's my father! I can't just throw him out into the street!"

Lydia smirked at him "No, you're so right. You couldn't throw him out. A dainty little flower like you might break a nail! I'll throw him out then!"

"Lydia, please! He's my dad! Look, I'll take care of this as long as he can stay".

Lydia looked sceptical "Alright, he can stay a little while longer. It's just he's such a dinosaur! He still thinks it's a man's world and won't adapt to the real world. Make him presentable and pleasant and he can stay. Otherwise, I'll put him out". Lydia turned to go.

Richie said, in the pleading voice that Lydia liked him to use when he had to beg her for money "Darling, I'll need a little money to help dad out. I won't need much, just..."

"Here!" Lydia had opened up her leather wallet with a gold buckle (it had been a birthday present from Richie actually and she had loved it) and pulled out a wad of notes, which she handed to him.

"Thank you, darling. You are so good to me" Richie said to her. Like the small, pleading voice he had to use, this was all part of the ritual to acknowledge who earnt the money and who had the power in their relationship.

Lydia nodded and went into the living room. Richie heard her plop herself down on the sofa and soon afterwards heard sound from the television. She was watching one of her favorite shows about a platoon of all female marines fighting in the far east.

Richie went to his handbag and put the notes into his purse. He looked up the stairway, dreading having to face his father and, in effect, give him an ultimatum.

Bruce Brookes was very much a man of the old school. He had been a successful advertising executive and he had been the breadwinner. Minnie, his wife, had kept house for him just like a good wife should and had raised their children, Richie and Samantha. Bruce Brookes was masculine to his core and was horrified the first time he saw his only son in a dress, within a year of his marriage to Lydia. Richie and Lydia's wedding had been thoroughly traditional with Lydia wearing the bridal gown and Richie wearing the tux, but Lydia had outearned him even in those days and had quickly feminised him. Richie had even had to change his last name to that of his wife, and their only child to date, Chloe, was also a Madison, rather than a Brookes.

Bruce refused to speak to his son after seeing him feminised and referred to him as a sissy, but he had to visit to see his grand-daughter. But he ignored his son whenever he had come. Richie had been deeply hurt but had come to terms with it.

But Bruce's life as he had known it had altered beyond recognition in the space of less than a year. First, Minnie, his loving, dutiful wife, bored with housework, had set up her own business on the internet and could support herself. As Bruce and Minnie had grown apart over the years, since he was preoccupied with his work and the politics of work and took her for granted, Minnie found someone else who did appreciate her for being more than a drudge. Then Minnie had stunned the family by announcing that she was divorcing Bruce. Minnie got the house and half of Bruce's pension pot in the settlement.

Then, just as the dust had settled from the divorce, the advertising agency Bruce had worked for for sinced he had left school was bought by a fiesty young female entrepreneur, Clare Gurney. Clare had then made redundancies, with the older, male talent bearing the brunt of these. Bruce was amongst the casualties.
Since, he had lost his house in the divorce, Bruce had been renting. Within a few months of being made redundant, Bruce couldn't afford the rent.

His ex-wife had by now re-married and wouldn't have him in what was once their marital home. Her new husband kept house for her. His daughter, Samantha, a successful oceanographer, lived overseas. Besides, Bruce could never go to her since he had disowned her when she had come out as a lesbian whilst she was at university. He had been scandalised when he had heard through Minnie that his daughter was now married to another woman! Pride and fear of rejection, which would do nothing for his battered ego, meant that he had had to turn to his sissy son for help.

Richie felt some sympathy for his father, but Lydia had been right when she said that he was a dinosaur who could not see that the world had changed and, in particular, the roles and balance of power between the sexes had undergone almost a complete reversal of what had gone before. For better or worse, it was now a woman's world and Bruce had to live in it.

Richie ventured upstairs and stood outside the guest bedroom now occupied by his father. He was nervous and he trembled slightly. Then, he composed himself and tapped on the door.

"Who's there?" Bruce's voiced demanded to know.

"Dad, it's me, Richie. I need to talk to you".

"Well, Richard, I don't want to talk to you. Especially when you're dressed up as a woman!"

Richie sighed. This was going to be difficult, he sensed, but for his father's sake he could not merely turn around and walk away otherwise Lydia would take matters into her own hands and there would be nothing Richie could do about it. For the first time, he realised that he had absolutely no power in his relationship with his wife. She was the breadwinner and held all the cards. At best, Richie could plead with her or use his sexual wiles to wring a minor concession out of her, but she had all of the power in the big decisions. Lydia made them all and he had to abide by them like a good little househusband, even if he disagreed with them.

Richie tried again "Dad, please! I really need to speak with you!"

Richie heard a deep sigh from behind the door, then footsteps and then, suddenly, the door opened and the profile of Bruce Brookes filled the doorway, with a snarl on his face.

Bruce Brookes was a big man. He was six feet high and still retained something of the rugged, masculine charm that had won Minnie's heart so many years ago. Richie recalled that in his youth, his father had been something of a local star in athletics and remembered that his father had once shown him all the prizes he had won in those days and the pride he must have felt in showing his son his trophies for manly endeavour and achievement.

But that had been forty years ago. Years spent behind a desk and too little exercise had reduced Bruce's muscles to fat. He was now fat and close to obesity. His fine mane of hair had almost entirely disappeared. There was just a fringe of graying hair and a large bald expanse. Due to advancing age and because he was overweight and sweated constantly, his body odour was quite pungent and Lydia had been quite disgusted that a man lacked the consideration to use perfume to hide his own smell.

Richie felt pity for his father. For all his masculine swagger, he was a decaying wreck, he had no income, and faced homelessness if Lydia had her way.

Bruce snarled at his son in disgust, his green eyes taking in the frock, the frilly apron, the fluffy slippers, the coiffed hairdo and his made up features "What on earth do you think you look like, Richard? A painted tart. That's what you look like! You aren't a real man, that's for sure!"

His father's words were cutting and Richie was pained by them, but he was determined to press on. "Dad, we really need to talk". Richie lowered his voice "Lydia's talking about asking you to leave".

Bruce was taken aback "But why. I've been no trouble have I?"

"No. But Lydia is very set in her ways. She likes things just so. She isn't happy with the way you dress and act around her".

Bruce straightened and seemed to swell in size. Richie was quite intimidated and thought Lydia had a point. He was bordering on being overbearing. "I dress and act like a man around her. Just like you should, instead of wearing her clothes and playing her part" Bruce snarled at him.

"Dad, you have to understand that a lot has changed since you and mom got married. Most women nowadays go out to work and earn the money and most men, me included, have to stay home and keep house. Do you think I enjoyed being made to dress like this by a girl who earned more in a month than I could make in a year? Lydia made me what I am and I've come to accept it. It works for us. It's not ideal, no marriage ever is, but Lydia and I are happy".

"If you were any kind of man you'd put your wife in her place. In the home, where she belongs! You should be out at work, supporting your family, not baking cookies and minding the baby!"

Richie shook his head in despair. This was hopeless. If his father spoke like that around Lydia, she would toss him out with the trash in a heartbeat. His rage mounting, Richie, for the first time in many years, spoke back to his father.

"Dad, I can't earn what Lydia earns. I make chump change, she makes big bucks. She is good at her job and she is well paid for it. I can't compete with her earnings and I've long since given up trying. It makes total sense for her to work rather than me. Lydia was totally right about you. You ARE a dinosaur and, just like them, you're going to find yourself extinct!". Richie turned around to leave.

"Son wait!"

Richie stopped in his tracks. It was the first time since his wedding day that his father had used the word "son" to him and tears welled up in his eyes. He turned around to see his father crying softly. He suddenly looked as small and helpless as his baby grand-daughter.

"Please don't abandon me son, you're all I have left! I've lost Minnie, my little princess, my job, my home....I'm a broke, hopeless loser begging charity off my only boy!"
Bruce broke down and began to cry.

Richie, crying himself, went and put his arm around his father's broad shoulders "Don't worry, Dad. You've still got me. I'll do what I can for you". Richie was surprised when his father gave him an incredibly huge hug and seemed to be clinging onto him, afraid to let go.

Richie let his father hug him for a while, enjoying the feeling of being cherished for a change, but reluctantly disengaged himself. Bruce had stopped crying and looked better than Richie had seen him since he had appeared on his doorstep. It seemed that a good cry was just what his father had needed. He had been through a lot in the last year.

Richie spoke to his father in a firm voice, feeling more confident that his father would be willing to listen "Dad, I won't abandon you or ask you to leave, but Lydia might. If you want to stay here, you'll have to make some changes".

"Changes? What do you mean, son?" Bruce looked at his prettified son and a look of horror appeared on his features "You don't want me to dress like you, do you? I'd rather die!"

"Of course not, Dad. Purple wouldn't suit you anyway..." realising he was prattling, as househusbands were prone to do, he quickly changed tack "No, but you'll have to lose weight. And wear scent. I'm sorry to say it Dad, but your body odour is quite offensive. Even Chloe notices it and she's still a baby. We need to get you to lose weight and look a bit more presentable"

Bruce nodded. He could see the sense in what his son said, Richie noted with relief. But he wasn't quite finished yet.

"And you also need to be careful around Lydia. If she hears you saying women should be in the home, she'll personally castrate you!" Richie remembered the verbal put downs he had received from Lydia when he had said something she found to be offensive or he had stared a little too long at another woman "She's a feminist and can't abide sexism or even a hint of it. It's best if you say as little as possible and keep it polite. You also need to interact more with us. Staying up here all the time is not good for you".

Bruce thought for a long moment and then nodded again "I'll try, son. It won't be easy, but I'll do my best".

Richie breathed a sigh of relief "We'll start in the morning, Dad. We'll make a new man of you!"

The following morning, Richie took his father shopping. Chloe came with them, in her pram. Lydia had left for work at her usual time. She had been pleasantly surprised when her father in law had appeared for breakfast, wearing some of Richie's scent to mask his natural odour, and had been pleasant and polite.

They went to the mall in town and to a mainstream retail store inside. Richie led his father to the area in the store set aside for male sportswear. "We need to get you some clothes for the gym, Dad". Richie explained.

Bruce looked at the clothing on sale, purportedly to be worn by males, in dismay. Everything was in pink, or purple, or pastel shades. Some of the items even had lace trimming and patterning that included bows and flowers.

"Can I assist you, gentlemen?" asked a boy dressed in the store uniform of pink blouse and short black skirt. He wore stockings and high heels and rather too much make up, Richie noted. The boy had a badge pinned to his blouse that read "Hi, I'm Brian, and I'm happy to help!"

Bruce was startled by the boy's appearance.

"Is something wrong, sir?" the boy asked anxiously. He checked himself against a nearby mirror in case there was something wrong with his general appearance. He smoothed his long brown hair into place.

Bruce shook his head "No, no, nothing's wrong. I'm looking for sportswear".

"Then you have come to the right place, sir!" said Brian enthusiastically, relieved that there was no fault with his image "This store boasts a wide range of sportswear that caters for all!"

Richie dived in and took over. His father was still a little uneasy with the way the boy looked. Where had he been living, Mars? Brian, and all other male shop assistants, wore skirts and blouse nowadays. And make up and high heels. It was perfectly normal.

"What do you have in my father's size?"

Brian frowned at the size of his customer "My, you are a powerfully built man, sir! Let me see what I can find in your size". The boy skittered off in his high heels and began rummaging through the merchandise. Richie could hear him muttering softly and saw him shaking his head frequently.

Richie sensed that his father's sheer size was proving a real challenge for Brian.

Finally, holding them aloft as if they were hard won trophies, Brian produced a top and matching shorts from the rack "Here we are sir! These should fit you perfectly! If you would like to try it on, I can lead you to the changing facilities".

Bruce looked at the item with unease. It was in shocking pink. The top had lace trimmings.

Richie sensed his father's anxiety "Have you something a little less....feminine?"

The boy shook his head "I'm sorry, sir, but these are the only things that will fit".

Richie turned to his father "Would you at least try them on, Dad?" but he was guessing that the answer would be a resounding no.

Bruce looked at the garments and to Richie's surprise, he took them from Brian "Ok, boy, lead on".

Brian led them to the changing area. Bruce took the top and shorts inside and appeared a few minutes later dressed in them. The top and shorts were both tight, as they were designed to be to show off the wearer's assets. Despite the colour and the lacy bits, they fitted Bruce well enough. He actually looked good in them.

The problem was with the wearer, not the garments themselves. Bruce had a paunch and he had a lot of body hair on his chest, legs and arms. The gym clothes looked odd on a hairy body. Bruce looked at himself in the mirror and shuddered.

"Don't worry, Dad. The clothes are fine. All guys are wearing them nowadays. Nobody will even notice you. You look good in them" Richie lied. Brian, sensing a sale, added encouraging remarks.
Bruce looked at himself again, taking in the lace trim and the pinkness. He shook his large head, but he said "Alright, we'll take them. I'll look ridiculous but I'll wear them if that's what it takes to get my life back on track".

Richie swelled with pride at his father's words. That he was willing, very reluctantly, to wear such a feminine outfit was a big step forwards.

Richie had intended to go straight home and find a gym for his father to join, but he decided to make a detour. There was something that needed to be done urgently.

"Hey, you missed the turnoff, son!" said Bruce.

"There's a place we need to make a stop at" explained Richie.

Richie pulled the car up outside another establishment. Bruce looked uneasy again "Maxie's Beauty Parlour? What are we doing here?"

"You'll find out. Come on"

Richie led his father into the beauty parlour, wheeling Chloe in in her pram. Bruce entered the perfumed salon gingerly. This was a completely alien world to him, as alien as Mars was to humanity.

Maxie, the proprietor, was dressed in a revealing top, mini skirt and high heeled boots, greeted Richie warmly. The two men exchanged kisses and hugged each other warmly. Bruce didn't know where to put his face.

"Well, Darling, what can I do for you today?" Maxie gushed "I'd love to do something with that hair. You have such lovely hair. I'm very jealous of your hair darling!"

Pleased at the compliments as he was, Richie said "No, Maxie, I don't need anything doing today. I'm your client on Tuesdays, remember?"

"Oh, yes, so you are darling! Have you just come to tease me with that magnificent hair of yours? To torment me?"

Richie laughed "No. Maxie, I'd like you to meet my father, Bruce".

Max greeted Bruce in the same fashion as he had greeted his son. Bruce felt uncomfortable being kissed and hugged by another man, but submitted to it.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Brucie!"

"It's Br...I mean, my father, who needs some work done" Richie explained "He'll need a full body wax, a manicure, a pedicure and a facial". Richie watched a look of dismay cross his father's face. He even took a step backwards, as if ready to escape the worst fate in the world.

"Maxie, would you give us a moment alone please?" Richie asked him.

Maxie's face lit up as he spied Chloe. Before Richie could object, Maxie had wheeled the pram down to his other customers, who went wild to have a baby in their midst. Chloe was in good hands. Richie spoke to his father "I can see that you don't like the idea. But you'll look and feel better in the gym without all that hair! And as to the rest, you'll enjoy it as I do. One of the privileges of being a man nowadays is that you are allowed to be pampered!"

"I really don't know son. This is what women do and I'm not a woman!"

"Of course you aren't! But this is the 21st century and we men are allowed to have these beauty treatments that women now deny themselves. Just try it".

Bruce shrugged "I guess there's no harm in trying it". Richie took his father's hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

Two hours later, Bruce's body had been completely denuded of hair and his nails had been shaped and painted in a delicate shade of pink ("Pink is so your colour darling!" Maxie had told him). The waxing had been extremely painful as Bruce had had a lot of hair to remove, but he admitted to Richie that the manicure, pedicure and facial had made him feel better, although he was embarressed by his pink nails and hid his hands constantly.

Satisfied with his father's progress, Richie took them home and found a gym for his father to join. It was called Scotties and catered exclusively for men. The only women allowed in the place were the staff. Richie chose it because he hoped it might make things easier for his father if there were no women around to see him in his pink sportswear. It was expensive though, and Richie knew he would have to ask Lydia for more money.

Richie took Bruce along to Scotties, leaving Chloe with a neighbour. The interior was decorated in pastel shades and it seemed as if perfume was being piped throughout the building. They were greeted by another young man, dressed in a light orange leotard and mini skirt, who answered to the the name of Chrissie and who showed them around.

Bruce was relieved to see that all of the other clientele were dressed in tight fitting sports wear, that was feminine in colour and style. He would not raise any eyebrows here. Confident, Bruce changed into his outfit and found that, without the forest of hair that had once graced his body, he looked much better in it. He still felt uncomfortable having to wear pink and lace, but guessed that he would get used to it in time.

Bruce went to the gym every day, determined to get fit and to lose weight. Within two months, he had lost a lot of weight and felt a whole lot better. In the meantime, he had made friends at the gym, a couple of men about the same age as him.

Their stories were similar to Bruce's own. They had once been the breadwinners, but then their wives had gone out to work once the children had flown the nest and before long they were earning more than their husbands. Then the men lost their own jobs and became financially dependent on their wives. Unable to find another job, they resigned themselves to being househusbands. Their wives made them go to the gym to stay fit and to look good for them. Like Bruce, his new friends wore pinks and pastels. It had been embarressing at first, but one got used to it. They also wore dresses at the insistence of their wives. They had rebelled at this humiliation at first, but the threat of divorce and poverty was enough to make the men comply.

Richie was amused to see his father leave the gym in traditional male clothes, hugging and kissing his new friends, who were clad in frocks and high heels. Oddly, it was Bruce who now looked out of place in a world were men wore the skirts.

Now that Bruce had lost enough weight, and kept up his appearance through weekly visits to Maxies, Richie put the next phase of his plan into operation. Finding his father a job. As a divorcee, he would need to be able to support himself.

In between cleaning, ironing, hoovering, fixing meals and looking after Chloe, Richie trawled the internet daily for employment opportunities. In the first week, he found a vacancy for a copywriter at an ad agency and showed it to Bruce, who was touched that his son was trying to help him get back into work. Bruce sent his resume in and perked up when he was invited to an interview by letter two days after the closing date for applications.

Richie knew that his father was over qualified for the vacancy and he was confident that he would have no problem securing the job. But getting the job would be a lot easier than preparing for the interview.

On the day before the interview, Richie knocked on his father's door. Their relationship had improved immeasurably since that day when Richie had been too nervous to face his father. Bruce, dressed in his best suit, opened the door and greeted him warmly.

"How do I look?" Bruce asked him, turning around slowly so that Richie could see the entire look.

Richie cleared his throat "You look good, Dad. But you can't wear a suit to the interview".

Bruce looked bemused "Are you suggesting I go naked, Richie?"

"No, I'm suggesting that you wear this". Richie held up some garments.

Bruce looked at them and shook his head "A blouse and skirt? No chance! There are some barriers I'm not crossing!"

"You won't get the job then" Richie said simply "You're going for a non-executive position. That means you're a basic employee and have to adhere to the dress code. If you read your interview pack, you'll see that standard dress code for a male employee is a blouse and skirt".

"You're joking! All the men there have to wear a blouse and skirt?"

"All the non-executives, yes. It's up to you. You either wear this outfit or you'd better phone in and cancel the interview"

Bruce certainly didn't want to cancel the interview. He had worked hard to lose weight and prepare for the interview. He took the outfit from his son "If this is the uniform, then I'll guess I should wear it. I'll change into it and you can give me an honest opinion. What a man has to do to get a job these days!"

Bruce sidled nervously into the living room. Richie had to admit that he looked pretty good. Bruce wore a shiny white silk blouse, a long red skirt that fell to just below his knees and a matching jacket. He looked slim and had a feminine figure that filled the skirt well.

"You look great Dad" said Richie with genuine enthusiasm.

There were details to be attended to. Bruce's legs were bare and free of hair, but would benefit from a good pair of stockings. Richie lent him a pair of his own. Bruce's legs looked fabulous in stockings.

But the greatest transformation was yet to come, for Richie had persuaded Lydia to part with more cash so that he could buy Bruce a wig. It was a long brown wig, with light curls, that fell to just below Bruce's shoulders. It changed Bruce's appearance completely, making him look years younger than 57, and making him look a little more feminine. Even Bruce himself was quite pleased with how he looked although he moaned good naturedly about having to wear a skirt.

Richie also had to introduce his father to the world of handbags, high heels and make up. He explained to his father that as he now wore a skirt, he had nowhere to put his money or other things he usually carried about with him, so he would need to carry a handbag and a purse for his money.

Bruce was reluctant at first to have to use such a feminine accessory, but saw the sense in it.

Richie then had to hand his father a pair of high heels. They were standard wear for men at the company he was interviewing to join. Bruce initially resisted, claiming he could not see why he could not wear flat shoes, but gave in. Richie had to teach him how to walk in them. Bruce did not enjoy wearing heels at all, describing them as instruments of torture, but managed to walk in them adequately.

Bruce baulked when Richie suggested that he should wear make up for the interview, but after much persuasion agreed to try it. Even Bruce was impressed with the results. His luscious red lips, blue eye shadow, blusher and eyeliner made his face really stand out. He agreed completely that he should wear make up to the interview, but not after that.

Richie smiled secretly. Bruce was transitioning towards femininity, a journey that Richie had made himself, much against his will at the time.

Richie drove Bruce to the interview. Bruce looked very professional and ladylike in his red skirt and jacket, silk blouse, shiny red high heels and clutching his handbag. He dropped him off and wished him luck and smiled as his father wobbled down the street in his heels. He picked him up again an hour later and Bruce was gushing with enthusiasm about the firm and about how well the interview had gone.

He had reported to reception and had been escorted to a room where the other candidates were waiting to be called. They were all men and dressed in the same way as Bruce, but Bruce thought that although the other candidates were younger than him, he looked much better than they did. The youngsters tended to overdo the make up and failed to notice that their high heels were scuffed or that they had a ladder in their hosiery.

Bruce was interviewed by three women, all dressed in trouser suits and with short hair and no make up or other feminine accroutrements. They were all senior managers and they explained that pretty much the whole management team and the exective level positions were female dominated. Did it bother him, having to work under a woman? Bruce, by now attuned to the new world in which women were dominant, replied positively. The panel said they were impressed with his resume, his attitude, and also with his appearance and said that they thought that he would fit in very well with their organisation.

Bruce was elated when he received a phone call late in the afternoon to inform him that he had been the successful candidate and that he should report for work on Monday of the following week. Richie was pleased for him, as was Lydia, for she took them out for a celebratory meal.

Bruce's transformation from a hopeless dinosaur into a modern man reflected well on Richie, in Lydia's eyes. She told him that she was proud of him for what he had achieved with his father and even upped his allowance as a reward.

For Bruce, the humilation of having to wear a skirt, heels and make up on a daily basis was bearable when he considered what he had gained. A job. An income. Within six months, he was able to save enough to rent his own apartment and move out from under his son's feet.

But the price he had to pay was the loss of his masculinity. He had to spend a good portion of his mornings making up his face, painting his nails, brushing his wig out and ironing his blouse and skirt. Initially, he had tried to retain his masculinity by changing into traditional male clothes as soon as he got home from work, but it was too much trouble. It meant having to remove his make up and nail varnish and after a long day he didn't have the energy.

The day came when he just bagged up his old clothes and dropped them off at the charity shop. Bruce's wardrobe now consisted entirely of dresses, blouses and skirts. He had become quite vain and bought only the most expensive perfumes and cosmetics and spent his spare cash on handbags and shoes. Bruce had resisted wearing lingerie, but gradually succumbed and replaced his tired boxers with delicate and sensual silk, satin and lace underwear, bras and even corsetry. His conversion from masculine to feminine was as complete as that of his son, if not more so in some ways.

His feminine vanity brought an unexpected reward for his immaculate appearance at work earned him admiration from both his male and female colleagues and superiors. A year after joining the company, Bruce was promoted to a junior management position.

In other areas of his life, Bruce could boast a tangible improvement. He had his friends from the gym, whom he went out with all glammed up in a new frock and make up. His stubborn pride that had prevented him having a relationship with his daughter had evaporated in his new life and he had established contact with her, albeit online, apologising for his "outmoded masculinity". Sam had readily accepted his apology and was seriously impressed with her father's new appearance and attitude. They had arranged to meet up in the following year. And, of course, his relationship with his son and his daughter in law had never been better. Bruce also had frequent contact with his grand-daughter, as he was happy to be a babysitter.

Best of all, he had won Minnie's heart again. Minnie's new husband had unfortunately died as a result of a tragic car accident. Minnie had of course heard of Bruce's transition and when he had phoned to offer his condolences, she had suggested that they meet up on the pretext that there were some outstanding issues from the divorce.

Bruce's new feminine instincts sensed that this was an opportunity that should be exploited, so he went to Maxie's for a full makeover, sprayed his body with exotic perfumes, wore his daintiest lacy lingerie, sheer stockings, designer dress, stilettos (which Bruce had completely mastered walking in by this point), jewellery and flawless make up.

It was weird to meet one's former wife dressed as he was. Minnie, he noted, was wearing a tuxedo and had her hair cropped short. It was nothing less than a complete reversal of the traditional gender roles and dress. Minnie was very pleased with her ex-husband's new look. It really suited him! Minnie insisted on ordering for them in the restaurant and paying the bill. Her business was going from strength to strength, she told him, so she could well afford to pay. Minnie was also the more forward one, as befitted the modern age, kissing him and slipping her hand under Bruce's skirt and fondling his legs as they rode a taxi to home.

It was Minnie who suggested that Bruce should stay over at her place. Minnie took the lead and took Bruce into her bed, seducing and using him for her pleasure. The rekindled relationship continued for several months, with Bruce eventually moving back into his old house, before Minnie popped the question and, on bended knee, asked him to re-marry her.

Bruce considered this for a long moment. If he married again, in this crazy, topsy turvy world where women were the dominant gender and wore the trousers, then it would be his turn to wear the white bridal gown, the silk stockings, high heels, silken lingerie, corsetry and veil traditionally worn by the weaker sex and swear to honour and obey his wife. His son would be the natural choice as his Maid of Honour and his lesbian daughter would give him away.

He answered his suitor with a strong kiss without a moment's hesitation!