Man enough to be a woman?

I held up the pair of lacy red knickers. Karl's face went red as he struggled to think of a convincing answer. Karl was my husband of two years standing. He was a handsome young man. I had fallen head over heels in love with him when we had met at university. The problem was that Karl was a babe magnet. Women would turn and look at him when we were out shopping. He was a real head turner. And he knew it. And I knew that, after only two years of married life, he had taken advantage of it.

Karl worked as an insurance salesman. With his looks and his sales patter, he was a good salesman and earned a lot of bonuses on top of his basic salary. He was on the road a lot. Even so, he was in the office long enough to hook up with Stacey Cartwright. Stacey Cartwright was a pretty redhead in her early twenties who worked as an accounts assistant in my husband's office. When I had first met her, at the company Christmas party, I had envied her youth and beauty. Then she had made a move on Karl and we had taken an instant dislike to each other. Our relationship, if one could call mutual dislike such a thing, was frosty and formal when we had to meet at socials. Stacey was a manipulative little cow and she could wind my husband around her finger. She was as much to blame as Karl was for their sordid little affair.

I apportioned a small measure of blame on myself. When our relationship had begun, we had been carefree students. Carl was initially the breadwinner because I went on to do my Masters degree, but once I had obtained that I had landed a graduate level job with a fashion house and immediately out earned him.

 Karl didn't like the reversal of our roles of breadwinner and secondary earner. He was resentful and petulant at times, such as arranging our mortgage for example, when I told the adviser that I earned double what he did. To add to that, I was a chronic workaholic and spent more time in the office than I did at home. I suppose Karl felt emasculated and neglected and so in some small way I did contribute to him having an affair. But it was still no excuse to betray me!

 I had suspected that he was having an affair for the past couple of months but could not confront him about it until I had proof. Now I had proof, for I had found a pair of Stacey's knickers in his jacket pocket and I had just showed Karl that I had evidence of his infidelity. I was willing to forgive him. I still loved him dearly, although I was very hurt by the betrayal. All he had to do was admit everything, apologise and end it with Stacey. I would make his life hell for a while, but eventually our life would return to normal. I looked at my husband after he had been shown his mistress's underwear. He was embaressed and avoided eye contact.

"Karl, look at me" I ordered him, in complete mastery of the situation. Karl looked up at me with those lovely blue eyes that still made my heart melt. They were so beautiful! Then I imagined him and Stacey together and my giddy feelings of love turned to a smouldering anger. I held up the knickers again "These belong to that slut, Stacey, don't they?". I was going to wring the truth out of him, make him squirm as he recounted every detail of his infidelity, make him suffer a little. It would do him no harm and it would make him think twice about playing around again. I was expecting either the truth or him trying to come up with some load of cock and bull excuses, but I didn't expect to hear what came out of his mouth. Karl shook his head in denial, which made me even more angry. OK, I thought, he wants to play it the hard way. "If they aren't Stacey's, then whose are they then?" I demanded. I tried to think of the other women at that office. Most of them were older than Karl, or not as attractive as Stacey. For all her faults, Stacey was the prettiest woman in the office by a long way.

 Karl fidgeted and went red "They're.....mine" he blurted out. I knew he was lying. I had known him for the last ten years. There had been no evidence of him doing any kinky stuff like wearing ladies' underwear. I had once suggested playfully in our student days that he should wear one of my dresses and he had recoiled at the thought of wearing womens' clothes. Karl was a very masculine man, but right now he was being a very stupid man. Why couldn't he just admit the truth? I looked at him "Don't be silly, Karl. We both know who these belong to!" "But...it's true. They're mine. Honestly. I.....like wearing them when I have to stay over in hotels!" He didn't sound at all convincing. I was fuming. I flung the knickers at him "OK, if you really like wearing girls' knickers, go and put those on for me! Prove to me what you are saying is true!" I had hoped that the prospect of actually having to wear his girlfriend's underwear would force him to come clean.

Karl fumbled with the lacy garment, confused and bewildered by it, not knowing quite to do. "I'm waiting, Karl. Go and put your knickers on, if they are yours, as you say!" Karl stumbled out as if in a daze. "And come back wearing ONLY your knickers!" I instructed him. Karl reappeared several minutes later, clad only in the red lacy knickers. Karl was a big man, six feet tall, broad and very hairy. The knickers looked incongruous on such a muscular and hairy frame.

Karl was blushing "There" he said "Are you satisfied? Can I take these off now?" I had no doubt that he was still lying and that he thought he could wriggle out of this by just wearing a pair of knickers for a few minutes, but I thought of a delicious revenge. "Why would you want to take them off?" I asked him, sounding innocent. "I thought you loved wearing them". "I....do, but I don't want to wear them right now". "If you like wearing them so much, I think you ought to wear them all of the time! Go and put your clothes on over your pretty knickers!" That shook him. The look on his lovely face was priceless as he realised that he would have to wear such dainty underwear all of the time. He stumbled off again and returned wearing his suit. I had demanded he hand over to me the pants he had been wearing, which I tossed in the wash basket.

Karl was embarressed to be wearing womens' underwear, but his inability to admit the truth was causing him this humiliation. I was determined to break him down. He would have to wear ladies' knickers until he told the truth. In the morning, I gave him a pair of my silk french knickers and told him he was to wear them to work. Karl went red, but slipped the silky garment on.

Karl went off to work. I called into work and took the week off as holiday. I had taken none so far this year and it was already June, so my boss had no issue with this. I went shopping. I went into a new place called Mystique Lingerie. It was quite an eye opener, I can tell you! I have never been what you would call a girly girl and I wasn't into lingerie at all. Karl often moaned that I never dressed up for him or showed any interest in buying some lingerie to spice up our sex life. I often wore sports bras and matching pants.

Mystique Lingerie was an Aladdin's Cave for those who loved lingerie. There were knickers in all shapes and sizes, from thongs to pantaloons and bloomers, basques, corsetry, stockings and suspenders and lots of dress up costumes. Policewomen, Cheerleaders, Fairy Tale Princesses and Schoolgirls and loads of others. There was no way I would ever wear such stuff, even for the man I loved. But, HE would have to wear it for me! Or admit that he was having an affair. It was up to him.

I purchased a white lace bra, a basque, stockings, suspenders and a pile of knickers. The girl assistant queried the sizing of my purchases, suggesting that with my petite build I should select smaller sizes, but I simply told her that I was buying them for my husband. The girl merely smiled and shrugged. She had obviously seen it all before!

My next stop was Petal Fashions, a mainstream store, where I purchased for my husband a flowery frock, a white blouse and skirt and pair of smart, black high heels. The assistant who served me was puzzled by my choices but said nothing. I took my purchases home and laid them out on our marital bed. And waited patiently for Karl to come home.

Karl came home, looking exhausted. He had had a full day, with lots of clients to visit, he had said. I told him not to bother sitting down, as I had a surprise for him. I led him upstairs. Karl was thinking that the surprise was to be a little make up sex and he began fondling my bottom as we went up the stairs. I slapped his hands away angrily "Don't you men ever think of anything else?", I snapped at him. Karl was dumbfounded by what he found in the bedroom.

"So, you've been shopping" he said "Nice clothes, especially the underwear! Why don't you slip into some of them?". He was becoming aroused by the image of me prancing about in a skimpy pair of knickers. The dummy didn't notice that the clothes and underwear would never fit me. I took petite sizes. "They're for you!" I told him simply. "As you love wearing womens' lingerie, you can wear everything else too! Go on, get changed into that pretty frock!" "You expect ME to wear this stuff? Are you mad?"

Here it comes, I thought. He'd rather tell the truth than have to dress up fully as a lady! For such a masculine man, it would be too humiliating. I shrugged "I thought this was what you wanted. Or are you having second thoughts about this cross dressing fetish that you've very suddenly begun?" Karl looked like he was about to burst into tears. He fingered the red, black lace trimmed basque. I was amused as I could see exactly what was going on in his mind. He was imagining himself having to wear it! Surely his innate maleness would surface and he would refuse to wear it and confess all.

Stuttering, Karl held up the basque and asked me for help. I took the garment off him whilst he disrobed, shedding his male attire and leaving only the french knickers to preserve his modesty. I clapped the basque on him and tightened the laces. I had to admit, the basque looked quite good on him and instantly made him look more feminine. To his embarressment, I took the french knickers off him and he cupped his hands over his groin, as a modest maiden would do. My macho husband had some innate femininity as well it seemed, which amused me greatly.

I gave him a pair of lacy white knickers. They were far more frilly and feminine than anything I wore and this had occurred to him. It must have been killing him to have to wear more feminine underwear than his own wife! He slipped them on. The fishnet stockings followed, then the frock and then the high heels. Karl looked a sight. A six foot man in a flowery frock, stockings and high heels. He looked somewhat womanly as he had good legs but above the neck the illusion could not be maintained. Karl was clearly a man in a dress. He could not be mistaken for anything else, but then that was my intention. I had no intention (at this stage) of making him look like a woman.

Karl's head was down. He couldn't even bear to look at himself. He almost toppled over in the high heels and moaned about how uncomfortable they were. Now you know how we women feel, I told him. But I rarely wore high heels these days, except to formals. He gradually managed to move about in them, but he was on the verge of tears.

But I wasn't finished with him yet "Karl, be a dear and cook us a meal". "What? I've just done a full day at work and you've been off! You cook the meal!" "But I'm not the one wearing a dress!" I retorted. In the early days of our relationship, Karl had established that I was the one who cooked and cleaned because I wore dresses and skirts in those days. "You're the one in the dress, you cook for us!" was his maxim. Now it had been neatly reversed on him, for he was now the one in a frock and I wore jeans and a simple blouse.

"Go on Missie, in her pretty new frock! Get into the kitchen where you belong!" I said to him "And put an apron on over that dress! I spent a lot of money on it and I don't want it ruined!" Karl stomped down to the kitchen and there was sound of banging pots and pans and Karl going through cupboards to find out where everything was. He spent almost no time in the kitchen normally and expected me to cook for him even though I had been at work all day too. Now he was getting a taste of what it was to be a woman. Working all day and then having to cook and clean for a man in the evening!

Karl eventually cooked up a meal. Beans on toast. And the toast was burnt. He was a pretty hopeless cook, and I told him so, but if he thought this meant that he would be getting out of cooking he had another think coming as I told him he obviously needed more practice. That should do it, I thought. Wearing dresses and dainty lingerie was bad enough for a man, but having to cook as well? He had to break soon. But he didn't. I made him wash up and then set him a load of chores to do. I watched TV whilst my beskirted husband hoovered and dusted and put the laundry on. It was a heavenly experience to have some time to myself and not have to do the chores that normally fell to me.

Karl was shattered by the time he had finished and went to bed. He was snoring soundly as I slid into bed next to him. You stupid, stubborn fool, I thought. All you have to do is admit you've been playing around and apologise and everything can go back to the way it was!

But Karl held out. I made him dress in his women's things as soon as he got home each day and made him do all of the housework. There were some tears and pitiful looks but he did as he was told. I should have been pleased to have the burden of housework lifted from me but I was frustrated by my husband's stubborness.

I decided to take things to the next level. I told Karl one day that he was to call in sick. In fact, I did it for him. I spoke to his boss, Mr Kemp, who asked me if Karl was alright. Everyone had noticed that he seemed to come to work so exhausted these days so they were not surprised to learn that he was ill.

Karl was mystified as to why he should take the day off. "I've booked you into Eve's" I told him. "Eve's?" "It's a beauty salon". "A beauty salon. Why would I want to go there?" "Oh, Karl. I booked you in for a full body wax. You're going to come home with a lovely soft, hairless body, just as a woman's body should be!" Karl looked bereft "But I don't want a hairless body!" "Well, you're getting one" I said firmly "If you want to continue wearing lovely dresses you'll need to get rid of all of that hair". I drove him to Eve's. It positively reeked of femininity. No real man would be seen anywhere near the place, let alone become a customer.

 Karl looked panicked and as if he was about to make a run for it, but I took his hand and led him inside. The salon was filled with women getting manicures, pedicures, facials and new hairstyles. Karl was the only male present, in male attire except for his knickers. He drew many amused glances and there was some tittering. Usually, Karl was the centre of attention amongst ladies for his handsome good looks, but here he was an object of amusement.

He was trembling and all nervous. I walked up to the reception area, where a young girl who must have been in her late teens gave me a welcoming smile "May I help you, Madam?" she asked. I returned her smile "Yes, young lady, you can. My husband has an appointment for 10 am sharp. In the name of Preston". The girl raised a plucked eyebrow but said nothing and checked the appointments book "That's right, Mrs Preston. Mr Preston, booked in for a full body wax!" The girl had not troubled to keep her voice low and so the other customers and staff could overhear quite clearly. There was much laughter and cackling amongst the women. "Hey, lady boy!" called out one of the other customers, an older lady, "why don't you just go for the full works. You'd look even prettier with with manicured nails and shaped eyebrows!" The women almost wet themselves laughing, including me!

Karl seemed to be shrinking in stature, red faced, with his head down. The humiliation must have been unbearable. The girl receptionist handed Karl a robe and asked him to get changed in a cubicle. Karl, clutching the pink, fluffy robe, disappeared. There were many screams as the girl depilated my husband, causing more amusement amongst the women.

Karl emerged, fully clothed, anxious to get out of the place as quickly as possible. He moaned all the way home about the pain he was in and why it was that women had such things done to them. It was like undergoing torture! When I climbed into bed that night, it was to find a hairless soft body. It was almost like sleeping beside another woman. But still Karl refused to buckle, so I took things a little further.

I made him wear perfume, jewellery and make up. He looked quite pretty in full make up. Karl hated having to wear make up. He squirmed and whimpered as I applied the cosmetics to his face. I made him learn how to "put on his face". Karl resented having to use lipsticks, eyeliners and make up brushes, especially as I rarely wore cosmetics nowadays, and he was aware that I was making him even more feminine than I was! Finally, I purchased a wig for him. A long blonde one. In spite of his height and build, dressed up in women's clothes, his face made up and framed by a woman's glory, Karl looked like a very convincing woman indeed. He looked far more feminine than I did and he knew this and deeply resented it. He still did all of the housework, as he wore the skirts and I wore the trousers.

I went back to work with a lighter heart as I now had the chores taken care of. Karl still refused to admit his affair. It was a source of great frustration to me, in spite of the benefits and amusement in feminising him. I did not know what else I could do. I couldn't get his ears pierced or his hands maincured as he had to maintain a male persona in the wider world and those were dead giveaways. Then I hit on an idea. When Karl got home, I ordered him to change into his evening gown. My husband now owned a full length pink silk evening gown that showed off his shoulders, back and decolletage' to best advantage. He also had to wear jewellery with it, including clip on earrings, with it and a pair of matching stilettos.

Karl gave me a black look but went upstairs to change. This time, I cooked the meal and set the places on the table to have the meal. Karl appeared, a vision of pink silk and long blonde hair, blushing and moaning about having to wear the gown and heels. Then he noticed that I had set three places at the table. He blanched "Don't tell me you've invited someone else! Please tell me you haven't!" He sounded absolutely terrified. I felt a small degree of pity for him but remembered that he had brought all of this upon himself with his unbelievable stubborness.

"Yes, Karl, we have a guest, so you'll have to behave like a proper lady!" A look of sheer panic crossed his made up face "I can't be seen dressed like this!" He moved towards the door. As he opened it, the doorbell rang. "Too late! She's here" I told him "You'll just have to brazen it out". "I'll die of shame!" "Nonsense! You look very nice. Now, go and sit down whilst I answer the door".

Miserably, Karl took his place at the table. He was shaking with fright. Poor macho husband, I thought, the thought of someone seeing you dressed as a woman has you scared out of your wits. Are you not man enough to be a woman?

I answered the door and escorted our guest inside. Due to the nature of our relationship, our greetings were terse. Stacey strode confidently into the dining room. She was dressed in a blouse, jacket and skirt combination and wore stockings and high heels. She was heavily made up and perfumed. Her perfume was overpowering. Stacey looked around and took in the sight of a rather large woman dressed in an elaborate evening gown. She spun around to face me "Who's this? You said Karl would be here, not some over made up trout!". She turned to address the woman "Sorry love, nothing personal, but you look bloody awful in that dress! Your face is pretty enough, I suppose, and you have nice skin, but you're way too big boned to carry off that look!" I had to stifle giggles. The strange "woman" turned her face away. Goodness knows how he must be feeling!

"Where's Karl?" Stacey demanded of me. I pointed at the lady seated at the table "There he is. In all his glory!" Karl put his face in his hands and began sobbing. Stacey was completely lost for words. Her mouth kept opening and shutting for several moments, but nothing came out. Finally she composed herself sufficiently to say "What the hell have you done to him?" I shrugged "Karl told me that he likes wearing ladies'....undergarments so I got him some. And then things kind of escalated and well, you can see for yourself. He has become a complete lady and he is becoming an excellent housewife".

"You can't be serious! Karl, please tell me that this is just a bit of fun. You don't really enjoy dressing like that do you?". Stacey's voice was pleading. She couldn't accept that the macho man she had ensnared and slept with could be in any way feminine.

Karl looked up, his face smeared by cosmetics and tears "I hate dressing like this! I only did it because...because...." "You two are having an affair" I said smugly. "So what if we are!" snapped Stacey "You can't give him what he wants! You're working all day, you dress like a man and you make him feel inadequate cos you earn double what he does! Is it any wonder he looks for a real woman?" "Stacey...no! Don't say any more" Karl pleaded with her, but aware that his injunction had come too late. It was all out in the open.

"Thank you for your...frank and colourful admission, Stacey" I said to my husband's mistress "Now get out of my house before I throw you out and if I ever see you anywhere near my husband again I'll pull your hair out by the roots!"

Stacey icily collected her things and left without another word. I sensed that after seeing Karl in drag, her ardent passion had immediately evaporated. She wouldn't be a problem any more. At least, not to me. I pitied the wives of the other men who worked around Stacey, knowing that that predatory little minx would quickly make a move on another man.

"What now?" Karl asked. He was aware that I now had him over a barrel. His infidelity was totally exposed. I had every right to divorce him and take him for every penny I could get from him and he would end up in a crummy bedsit, living out of a suitcase, having to hand over most of his earnings to me.

He looked pleadingly at me "Look, darling, I'm really, really sorry. It's all Stacey's fault! I was going about my business when she comes onto me. She caught me offguard and I....couldn't resist". I could believe that, but he wasn't entirely innocent and he knew it. And he knew that I knew it too. "Can't we put this behind us and start over?" he pleaded. "Karl, I'm very angry with you" I said "You not only played around with another woman, which is bad enough, but you've lied about it for ages. I've known for months about your pathetic little affair! I should throw you out of this house right now, just like I've just done to your mistress! But...."

Karl looked at me hopefully. He looked ever so pretty in his dress, I thought. "But.....I've decided to give our marriage another go. But there will have to be changes..." Karl was pathetically grateful for this reprieve "Oh, thank you, darling! I'll do anything, anything you say!" "Good" I said "First of all, you're to give up your job. I earn more than enough for both of us".

"But...what am I going to do?" "You're becoming a full time housewife. I like you better in dresses, so you're going to wear them all of the time, along with everything else. You going to be a proper wife to me! And if you don't like that you know where the door is".

"Become a wife? Me?" Karl was aghast at the thought. "You've been as good as one for the last month, so it's not that big a leap for you to make. It's up to you. Do you want to be my wife or my ex-husband?" Karl thought for a long moment. A life in dresses and aprons against divorce and impoverishment. What a choice!

Karl let out a deep sigh "Alright. For the sake of our marriage, I'll be the wife. God! I'll be a laughing stock! A male wife complete with skirts and make up!" I smiled smugly. He would get used to it. Used to the femininity that was imposed on all women from birth. He might even come to love it. I read that most men who wear dresses by chance or design become hopelessly addicted to femininity and Karl was no different from other men. He no doubt viewed his future with horror, but one day, I knew in my heart, he would be man enough to be a woman!