DR. WELLES

How my wife and her therapist turned me into the sissy I am today

by Suzi (Johnson) Thomas

Of course I realized that there were some problems in our marriage - you can't have two people living together, both trying to make careers for themselves, plus the usual chores, plus the stresses of daily intimacy and interaction without having a few difficulties. But I hadn't realized that my wife, Carol, thought they were so serious, until she suggested that we talk to a marriage counselor. When she first raised the issue, I resisted, protesting that things weren't that bad, but she was pretty adamant about it. Since I loved her deeply, I finally agreed, albeit reluctantly.

We arrived at the office for the appointment Carol had made, my last minute try to cancel falling on deaf ears. We were shown into a very feminine office, and that set me on edge a little. I felt that going to a marriage counselor was bad enough, but why did Dr. Welles have to be a woman? I would have preferred a male counselor, thinking that a female was going to give Carol the benefit of every doubt, but not wanting to upset Carol, I kept quiet. Dr. Welles walked into the office a moment later, and when I looked at her, I thought this might not be too bad, at least she wasn't some old frumpy lady. She was tall, nearly six feet, I guessed, and was dressed in a jacket and skirt set that did little to hide her beautiful figure. High-heeled pumps and sheer nylons graced her long, sexy legs, and when she sat down, and crossed them, she presented a very lovely picture, indeed.

"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. So many couples try to work things out themselves, or just ignore problems, until its too late. I hope that I can help with whatever difficulties you may be having," she said in a throaty voice. "Doctor," Carol said, "I feel that we have a lot of stress in our marriage - not real serious problems, or at least not yet, but I love Don, and I know he loves me, and I want to make things work." Since Carol had said that, I nodded in agreement, and added, " I do love Carol very much, and while I agree that I don't think we have major problems, I don't want anything to spoil our marriage."

"Good, at least there's agreement on that! Some couples deny that there could even BE a problem until its too late. Let me tell you a few things about the way I work, because its a little different than what you might have heard or thought. I've found that the conscious mind often resists and fights any attempts at discussion of problems, and I understand that - its only natural and human. But its also counterproductive, and it just runs the cost of counseling up unnecessarily. Couples come back time after time, and rehash the same things, defending their own viewpoints. This just increases stress, and, quite frankly, is very frustrating for me, as well as them. So I've developed a technique, using hypnosis, that bypasses all the nonsense, and gets right to the heart of the matter." She must have seen a skeptical look cross my face, because she laughed and said, "I can understand the reluctance you might have to this, but please trust me, Don, it really works." We talked about it for a few minutes, and Dr. Welles explained that we would have some joint sessions and some just one-on-one. "Remember, I am a doctor, and I'm very mindful of the need for confidentiality. What I will do, just for the first individual session, is give each of you a tape that you can listen to, so you'll feel better about the process. But I think that the joint sessions, at least for now, shouldn't be taped, since you'll be interacting, is that OK?"

That sounded fair enough to me, and she said that she would test us for our ability to be hypnotized. She took a silver ball that was attached to a thin chain, and began to speak in a soothing voice, "You are starting to relax, and feel a little drowsy..." That was the last thing I remembered, until I heard her say "3-2-1, you're now awake." I felt like I had gotten a full night's sleep, and was wide awake, and I saw Carol waking up, looking the same way. I mentioned this to Dr. Welles, and she laughed, saying that she had given us a post-hypnotic suggestion that we should feel that way, "as an extra, no-cost bonus." She explained that we were both ideal candidates, having fallen into a deep trance with no difficulties whatever. She handed us each a tape, saying that she had done both a joint and individual sessions while we were out. For each individual session, the other person had been tuned out of the conversation. We thanked her, and left the office.

When we got home, we each played our tapes separately, as we had been instructed, and I was reassured when I heard mine. The questions she had asked me seemed pretty straightforward and to the point, but I was a little surprised at first to hear some of my answers. But listening again, I realized that the hypnosis had broken through my conscious thoughts to my true feelings. One example was when she asked me, "Don, how do you feel about having to help with household chores?" and I answered, "Well, I know that they have to be done, and I help. But I think that they are woman's work, and Carol should really do them. After all my mother did them all." If she had asked me that when I wasn't hypnotized, I had to admit to myself, I would have said something like, "I enjoy helping and sharing the work with Carol," keeping the true feelings hidden. Her next comment, or perhaps more of a suggestion was, "But if you are going to make your marriage a partnership, Don, don't you think you should share the work? After all Carol is going out and working just as you are." My response was "I guess you're right, but somehow that just seems, I don't know, strange to me." She then suggested, "Maybe you could try to open up your feelings and sensitivities a little, try to understand it from the woman's, Carol's, point of view." As I said, I was reassured, because what she said didn't seem outlandish, nor did it seem biased against men.

The next evening, we went back for another session, since Dr. Welles' technique was for relatively short, but intense, periods of counseling. She told us when we got to her office that we had made good progress for the first day, and that this next session would deal with sharing emotions and communication. I woke up from my session feeling wonderful again, and when she told us that she had given us post-hypnotic suggestions to consider things from the other person's point of view, it seemed to make sense. She said that all people have both a masculine and feminine side, but that training and conditioning in childhood suppressed the "other" side of us. I would therefore not let my emotions show as much as Carol would, since that's how I had been conditioned. Her suggestions would allow us to let the other side through more easily, bringing us to a more balanced perspective.

The next day, without thinking consciously about it, I did find myself thinking more about how what I might say to someone could affect their feelings, and I seemed to be more sensitive to their reactions to me. When Carol and I had dinner, I discussed this with her, and I realized as I was saying it, that I was opening up my own emotions more than normal. But this seemed

very helpful, and our conversation was much more intense and satisfying than the usual. I stood at the sink, washing the dishes, and I gave a sudden start, because I knew that Carol hadn't asked me to do them, and I had hardly ever volunteered before. I thought about it for a second, and realized that I had reacted to her telling me that she had had an unusually tough day at work. But, I thought, that wasn't really such a bad thing, and our conversation had been much more pleasant than normal.

We again went to Dr. Welles' office, and she asked us how the day had gone, and whether we had experienced anything different. When I related the dishwashing incident, Carol burst into tears, and I was worried for a second. Then I sensed that she was reacting to my kindness, and thought that it was nice of me. Dr. Welles smiled, and said, "See, we're making progress already. Carol, what did you think of Don's doing the dishes at the time?" "I'm afraid that I didn't even think about it, Doctor," she said. "So each of you moved closer to the other's thought process, that's good. Tonight, we'll continue along the same path, and maybe reinforce the feelings of the `other' side a bit." I woke refreshed again, and Carol and I went home.

The next morning I showered, and when I went into my underwear drawer, I found that Carol had obviously mixed up some of our wash when she had put it away. When I pulled out a pair of underwear, there was a pair of her lacy pink panties on top of the rest of my jockey shorts. I was going to say something to her, then realized how late it had been when she put the wash away last night, and that I would hurt her feelings. I held the panties in my hand, intending to just slip them into her drawer, when a weird thought struck me. Since I was obviously becoming more sensitized to my `feminine' side, why shouldn't I put them on, to heighten the feeling of sensitivity? Without thinking any more about it, I slipped my feet into them, and pulled them up over my legs. They felt smooth and soft as I did, and when I nestled them around my cock and balls, I felt a kind of electric, erotic reaction to the silky material. In fact they felt wonderful, and I wondered why anyone would wear rough cotton jockey shorts, when nylon felt so good. I hurried to get dressed, and dismissed the thoughts, though as we went to work, and for the rest of the day, the smooth sensation kept returning and intensifying. By the time I got home, Carol was already waiting, and as we ate dinner, I confessed what I was wearing, and how the panties felt. "Why, of course, silly, panties feel wonderful, I could have told you that. And how nice of you to not mention my mistake this morning, I probably would have been upset all day," she said. "Can I see how they look?" she teased, and I felt myself blush. "Sure, why not, we have to change anyway," I said.

As I stood in the bedroom, naked except for my pink panties, Carol clearly saw the hardon I had. "Don, we have a little time before we have to leave to see Dr. Welles..." and before I knew it, she was stroking me through the nylon and lace. Without another word, we hopped into bed and made love, quickly and furiously. I didn't let her remove my panties, though, just allowing her to free my cock so she could impale herself on it, and bring both of us to climax. in record time. We couldn't linger in bed, because we would be late, so we threw on clothes, and drove to the office. As Carol was driving, I thought about our lovemaking, knowing that it was an abrupt departure from the Saturday night pattern we had fallen into. "Are you going to say anything to Dr. Welles about wearing my panties?" Carol asked me. I thought for a second, and said, "well, it might be a little embarrassing, but it really is a sign of progress, I guess. Especially when you take in the context of making love like we did." Carol hugged me, and we went inside.

Dr. Welles was a little amused by our story, and said that was a reaction some couples did experience. "How did you like wearing them, Don?" she asked. "It was strange at first, I guess, but then it made me feel good when I realized that men and women weren't all that different. Beside, they are more comfortable than jockey shorts." I felt myself blush when I said that, but she said, "It just shows you how traditional things are not always the best. We're just conditioned to think one set way. If panties are more comfortable, why should women be the only ones who wear them?" Then she said that it was time to get going, dismissing the incident. We went home, feeling cold from the midwinter air, and for the first time since our honeymoon, made love for the second time in one day. Again, I left my panties on when we made love, and I wore them all night as I slept.

The next morning, after I had showered, I asked Carol if I could borrow another pair of panties to wear. She said, "Sure, I don't blame you, they really are more comfortable." I pulled the black silky panties on, experiencing the same thrilling feeling as they nestled around me. The clock radio in our bedroom was on, as usual, and I heard the weather forecast: temperatures in the single digits all day long. "Shit," I said. I'll be freezing my ass off again. My coat and jacket keep the top of me warm, but the cold air always gets through my pants. Say, Carol, how can you stand to wear skirts in this weather, don't your legs get cold?" It was an innocent enough question, I thought, and when she answered, "Silly, that's why we wear pantyhose. They really keep you warm. Didn't Joe Namath advertise them years back, because he wore them under his uniform when it was bitter cold?" I thought back and agreed that he had, also thinking that it was a wonderful idea. I asked Carol, "Do you have a pair that...that I could borrow. Just to keep warm, of course." "I think I have an old pair that are pretty stretched out - they should be OK on you," she said, looking in her underwear drawer. She handed them to me, then we sat next to each other on the bed. I imitated the way she put them on, rolling each leg up my calves, then standing to pull them all the way up. "Hey, these are comfortable, too," I said, feeling the sheer nylon clinging and caressing my whole lower body. As I walked around the room in my panties and pantyhose, the brushing of my thighs together sent almost dizzying waves through me. My male side fought back, not letting me express that to Carol, but that didn't stop how wonderful they felt.

All day, I kept thinking to myself how lucky I was to be so nice and warm and comfortable, and I pitied my male co-workers who weren't as lucky as I was. "Poor fools," I thought, if only they knew how easy it was to be feeling the way I did. That night, when we had finished eating, I realized that because we had made love last night, we hadn't done the dishes. Without thinking, I went over to the sink, and began to do the two-night's accumulation. Carol came over and kissed me, sending a spark through me which was compounded by the intense feelings I was already getting from the panties and hose with every motion I made. To tell the truth, I had been glad that they held me in so firmly, since they had been causing me to have a hardon all day long.

That night's session was similar, and I felt really happy that Carol had suggested we go for counseling, as our marriage had already improved. That night, when we went to bed, I reluctantly removed my pantyhose, leaving my panties on, though. We made love again, and as we lay there afterward, I told Carol how much I loved her, and my feelings about the counseling. She hugged me tightly to her, giving me a warm feeling all over. She put on a long nightgown, and turned over to go to sleep. When she moved away from me, I felt a chill all over. I said, "I wish you could hold me all night and keep me warm. All of a sudden I'm freezing." "Sorry about that, dear," she said, but you insist on just wearing shorts, or I should say, panties to bed. I'm nice

and comfy in my nightie." I lay there thinking how unfair it was, and I kept getting colder and colder it seemed. I could hear Carol's breathing fall into the deep rhythm of sleep, but I couldn't seem to doze off. After a half hour or so, I got up and put on an undershirt. But, though it seemed to help the top of me a little, it still left my legs freezing. I said, "the hell with it," took off my undershirt, and going into Carol's drawer, I pulled out one of her nightgowns. I slipped it over my head, feeling the sensation as the pale blue nylon slid down my body, and got back into bed. I could only think about the sensations for a minute or two, because I fell to sleep almost immediately.

I woke up feeling wonderful, and when I got out of bed, I didn't realize, at first, what I was wearing. Carol said, "I guess you really must have been cold, Don." Then I blushed, and said, "I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your nightie. But I was freezing, and as soon as I put it on, I was able to fall asleep." "Don't be silly, of course I don't mind. After all marriage is all about sharing, and I'm willing to do my part, as long as you don't stretch everything I own out of shape," she laughed. I gave her a big hug and kiss, then went in to shower. I took off my nightgown and panties reluctantly, and when I was drying myself off, I wondered a little why I had felt the urge to wear Carol's things, but she hadn't had the urge to wear mine. The answer popped into my head immediately, drowning out the errant thought. "Because women's clothes are so much nicer, and softer, and feel so wonderful, stupid!"

Even though it was going to be warmer today, according to the radio, I still felt I might be cold, so after I put on the panties, red today, that Carol handed me, I pulled on the pair of pantyhose from the day before. They didn't feel quite as good, having lost that newly washed feeling from yesterday's wearing, but they still felt pretty wonderful. I did my work that morning, and when I took a break for lunch, the thought popped into my head about how nice Carol had been, letting me borrow her things. But I realized that it wasn't fair for me to keep doing that. Without thinking, I found myself walking into a department store, and headed for the woman's department. I was usually self-conscious about doing this, being embarrassed as hell at Christmas time when I bought Carol a robe, or nightgowns. I wandered around in an unconscious-like state, only snapping out of it when the sales clerk said, "You must be a great husband, treating your wife to all these new things. Is it your anniversary or her birthday?" I saw her holding a large bag in her hand, and I said, "Neither, just a little treat."

I walked out of the store, not even knowing what was in the bag. I went into the men's room with the bag, since I don't have a private office where I could check out the contents. Looking inside the bag, I found a half-dozen pairs of panties, the same number of packages of pantyhose, and three nightgowns! There was an assortment of vivid colors, and I couldn't resist touching each thing, before I closed the bag, and got back to my desk. I hurried home that night, and confessed to Carol what I had done, but she just smiled and said, "That's OK, at least I won't have to worry about having things get stretched out, or doing my undie wash as often." I told her that I wasn't particularly hungry, but that I wanted to shower before we went to Dr. Welles' office. I went upstairs, stripped off my clothes and took a quick shower. When I had dried off, I opened the bag, and put on a pair of the panties I had bought. They were a different size than Carol's I saw, and fit me better. For some reason, I had the urge to try on all of them, and I was soon in a whirlwind of panties, not being able to decide which ones I would wear for the evening. I heard Carol's voice, "Hon, are you OK, we've got to get started." "Y...yes, I'm fine, I'll be down in a jiffy." I left on the lacy pink panties I was wearing, and opened up a package of pantyhose. As I drew them over my legs, I could feel how much better they fit than the old pair Carol had lent me. They were firm control, and they really fit themselves around my legs and butt. The control top pulled in my belly, giving me a great feeling of togetherness. I noticed that these, too, were in a different size than Carol's, but they fit me perfectly. A random thought came into my head, how ugly the hair on my legs looked under the pantyhose, but I dismissed it as I hurried to finish dressing.

The next week passed quickly, but there were some noticeable changes. I didn't even think about what I was going to wear panties and hose went on automatically every morning, and a nightgown to keep me warm at night. But Carol and I were making love nearly every night, and when Carol mentioned to me that I could use a haircut, I told her that I thought I would let it grow for a while, and maybe try a little longer style. Our sessions continued each night, of course, and I always had the same wonderful feeling when I woke up. Carol said that she did, too. I must have been getting out of shape, I thought to myself one morning. Somehow my body seemed to be getting softer, not as muscular as I had been. "I'd better start working out," I said to myself, then discarding the idea, because between work and the counseling sessions, there was certainly no time to go to a gym. But I made up my mind that I would start after the month of counseling, because I didn't like the way my pecs seemed to be getting flabby.

It was the Friday night at the end of the second week, and as we sat in the office after our sessions, I was disheartened to hear Dr. Welles say, "I was so optimistic last week, because you had made so much progress, but we seem to have stalled this week. There was that initial surge of trying to experience things from each other's point of view, but it hasn't been fully realized yet." I almost felt like crying, because I thought that I had been making every effort, and I was sure Carol had, too. "But Doctor, I've really been trying to let my female other side out, every day. Its just that I get wrapped up in office stuff, and I let myself drift back into old habits," I said. Carol chimed in, "I agree with Don, I'm finding the same thing myself. I try to think guy-thoughts, to experience things from his viewpoint, but its hard to do when its so easy to slip back into conditioning."

"Well, this is something I've seen before, and it can be worked through. What I would recommend, and its lucky that the weekend is coming up, is a prolonged period of total role reversal. You should each live each other's life for the whole weekend, to reinforce what you're trying to accomplish." This seemed silly for a second, but then the brilliance of the idea flashed into my head. A whole weekend of being a woman would certainly strengthen the thought process for me, and being a guy for a weekend would let Carol understand things better. Then the practical aspects of the plan struck me, and I said, "but Doctor, it'll cost a small fortune for us to go and buy all the clothes we'll need, just for this weekend. Isn't there some other way?" "No, Don, I really think a reinforcing weekend is needed, but as I said, this isn't the first time I've encountered this problem. In fact, I have a pretty extensive wardrobe that I'll let you borrow from, since I agree that it would be an unwarranted expense." That pretty much resolved the issue for me, and she suggested that we each go with her, separately, to choose what the other person would wear. I went into an adjoining room with her first, and she opened a large walk-in closet, filled with men's things. "They're arranged by size, Don, and everything on this side should fit Carol well. There was everything a guy could ask for, from jeans to tuxedos. "Doctor, I feel a little guilty about one thing, do you think Carol has to wear these," I said, pointing at the men's underwear. "I know what you said about total role reversal, but .... now that I know how

comfortable panties are, I'd hate to think of her wearing these uncomfortable boxers or jockey shorts."

"Why Don, that's so nice of you, considering Carol's comfort that way. I would suggest that you pick out a couple of pair of each, but I'll mention how you feel, and not insist that she wear them." I made my selections, basically choosing one of each garment, and a couple of sets of underwear, putting them all into a suitcase. We returned to the office, then Carol went into the room, obviously headed for the other large closet, where I presumed the women's things were. She returned with a suitcase, and with Doctor Welles' final instructions, "Now it must be for the whole weekend, remember, no chickening out. And it must be a total reversal, everything, from clothes to chores to what you call each other." We said "Goodnight" and Carol hopped into the driver's seat, my normal spot when we got to the car. I started to say something, when Carol said, "We might as well start now, I'll drive, babe!" I chuckled and got in next to her.

The thought of how much I was looking forward to the weekend kept popping into my head, because I wanted us to succeed in our marriage so very much. When we got home, Carol got out of the car and hurried over to open my door for me. This was something I usually did for her, and it was pretty amusing. We went inside, and Carol confessed, "I'm feeling a little funny about this, Don, how about you?" "Come on, Carol," I said, Doctor Welles said it would be good for us. Besides, it seems like more of a weird experience for me, than you. After all, you wear pants most of the times on weekends, anyway. But wearing the dresses I'm sure you picked out for me will be really different." But as I said it, it didn't seem all that weird, in fact it seemed that my mind was really looking forward to it. "And," remembering what we had been told, "I think you should call me Donna for the weekend. Is Carl all right with you?" "I guess so, Don..na," she said, "if you're really OK with this, I guess I am, too."

For someone who had expressed her doubts like that, she really seemed to get into it then. "Well, let's go, Donna, its time to get started on your beauty routine before bedtime," she said, taking my hand in one of hers and the suitcase in the other, and practically dragging me upstairs. While I got out a pair of boxers and a T-shirt for her to wear, she started taking things out of the suitcase for me. To my amazement, there were not only clothes, but a wig as well, a long blonde one. We took off the clothes we were wearing, except for my panties, and she put on the underwear. "Yuck, these feel all scratchy," she said, "how do you guys stand them?" "Why do you think I've changed over to panties, Carl. They're so much more comfortable!" I resolved to myself that after tonight I'd suggest she wear her own undies, and tell her what Doctor Welles had said.

Then we turned to the things she'd laid out for me. First, she put the wig on my head, and I felt the brush of hair against my shoulders for the first time. Rather than being upsetting it felt pretty nice. Then she picked up a bra, surprising me. "But I don't have anything up there, Caro...Carl." "Let's try it on anyway, and she slipped the straps over my arms, fastening the back hooks. I looked down, as she came around in front of me, adjusting the cups, and saw that my pecs, which I had thought were getting flabbly, actually molded themselves inside the cups, though not nearly filling them. She slipped silicone breastforms into each cup, over my own flesh, and I saw my first pair of breasts. "Aren't they a little big, dear?" I asked. "Oh. please, Donna, you know how we guys like a nice set of jugs on our women," she teased back. The silicone forms warmed up to skin temperature, and their weight felt heavy on my chest. "I never realized, or thought about what breasts might feel like," I confessed, "it seems like they're so heavy they're pulling me over."

Leaving the bra and panties on, she slipped a lace trimmed black satin nightie over my upraised arms and head, and I kind of shook my head to free my long blonde hair. "Well, that's over with. I'm really tired, hon, let's go to bed," I said. "Not so quick," she smiled, "a woman has a whole bunch of other things to do. Come with me." She led me over to her dressing table, and began to look carefully at my face. "While you normally wouldn't wear any makeup to bed, if you're going to experience being a woman for the weekend, there are a few things...." She took out a pair of false eyelashes, and glued them into place. When I blinked, they brushed against my face, feeling very odd. She took a pair of tweezers and plucked out a few of my eyebrows, not really changing them all that much, just thinning them out a little bit, and maybe a hint of shaping. Though they looked rather feminine, I didn't think it would be that noticeable on Monday. Next she started putting a dark green cream all over my face, explaining that this was a facial mask that was worn to bed, and which would clean out all my pores. While we were waiting for the mask to dry, she glued nail-tips on each of my fingers, extending them a good half-inch, with a definite feminine shaping. She applied a bright red polish to them, then knelt down in front of me and did the same to my toenails. A tiny voice inside me wanted to protest, but as I looked at myself in the mirror, even the green goo on my face couldn't stop me from admiring how feminine I was becoming. When everything was dry, she got a pair of high-heeled black mules, with feathery pom-poms on the front and put them in front of me.

I hadn't really given any thought to wearing heels, but when I put them on, I found they were my size and quite comfortable. Holding her hand, I stood up, and practiced walking around in them. I could feel how the strange height affected the way I stood and walked, and I swayed my butt in an exaggerated fashion, teasing her. "You don't want to shake those buns too much, dear, I'm starting to get turned on," she said. "Oh, come on, I'm a mess with this goop on my face, don't tell me I'm turning you on." In spite of how tired I was, though, I have to admit that being dressed and madeup this way was turning ME on. "You still look pretty sexy to me, Donna, and you do turn me on." I began to say how tired I was, but I saw that it was no use, she definitely was horny. And even though I was saying "No" I knew I really meant "Yes".

She led me over to the bed, and lay me down. I had my legs together, but she started kissing me, and gently spread them apart, pulling my panties down just enough to expose my cock. She lay down inside them, and her wet pussy slid down over my cock. It almost felt like she had the cock that was between us, and my legs involuntarily wrapped themselves around her. My high-heels must have been digging into her back, but that seemed to excite her even more. Suddenly, she gave a shudder as she climaxed, then she rolled off me. I wanted to scream, because I hadn't come yet, but before I could say a word, she said, "Thanks dear," and rolled over, and went to sleep! I knew that I had done that sometimes, but it was very different with the high-heels on the other foot. I lay there, horny and frustrated, not fully understanding yet what I had let myself in for. My cock, now tucked back into my panties was hard as a rock, and after a little while, I fell into my own troubled sleep. I wasn't very comfortable at all - the breasts on my chest made it difficult to lay on my stomach, and the facial mask had hardened into an almost granite-like texture. I was thankful that she hadn't put rollers in my hair as well, or I'd never have been able to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I remembered what had happened, and found myself hard as a rock. I looked for my slippers, but finding only the mules, I put them on and went into the bathroom. For some reason, although they hadn't bothered me before, I found I couldn't stand up to pee in them. Instead of taking them off, though, I just sat down. My cock softened enough for me to pee, and I thought briefly about how ridiculous I must look, but the thought disappeared as quickly as it had come. I stood up, and looked in the mirror, hating how ugly the green mask looked on me. I began to wash it off, and after some time, I finally got rid of it all. It did do the trick, I thought to myself. My face seemed much softer and smoother. I ran the electric razor over my face, thinking that I seemed to have less beard than usual.

Carol, Carl, was still sleeping, and without thinking I walked over to the dressing table and sat down. My hands seemed to have a mind of their own, as I began to pick up the cosmetics and apply them to my face. I put on foundation and powder, and was amazed at how steady my hand was as I applied eyeshadow. The hand that was putting the bright red lipstick on my mouth seemed to have had years of practice. A little blush, I thought, then with that taken care of, I looked at the result. There was a woman staring back at me. I knew in my head that it was me, but anyone looking at me would not. I began to brush the long blonde hair in a very feminine manner, giving it my total concentration. "Why, how pretty you look, Donna," Carl said, startling me. "You've done such a beautiful job on your makeup its almost as if you've been doing it for years." I thanked her for the compliment, and she hugged me from behind, her hands wandering over my silicone-enhanced breasts, then slipping a finger inside my bra-cups to tease my nipples. I found that, while they had never been particularly sensitive before, they now became erect and I wriggled under her touch.

"Would you like to get dressed for the day now?" she asked. "Oh, yes, I would," I breathed. She helped me out of my nightgown, bra and panties, and I stood naked before her. I saw myself in the mirror, a woman from the neck up, but with an obvious male body below the waist. In between, though, the bra that I had worn all night seemed to have given me little titties. "I think you need to have a real womanly shape to wear the things I've picked out for you," she said, holding up a long white lacy garment. "This is a firm control all-in-one," she explained. "It zips up the side, so just step into it." I did, feeling how tight the buttocks portion of it was, molding my buns. I pulled it up over the rest of my body, slipping my arms into the bra-straps. When it was positioned properly, she told me to suck in my belly, and began to zip it up. It rearranged my flesh, compressing my waist, and pushing everything upwards. My little titties were increased by the silicone forms again, giving me an hourglass shape unlike any I had had before.

It took me a few seconds to adjust my breathing to the tight confining garment's shaping, and Carl waited patiently for me. Then she sat me down at the dressing table, and showed me how to put on the sheer nylons that would be held up by the garters hanging down from the all-in-one. When I had put on the first one, I unhappily noted my leg hairs showing through the sheer material. "Carl, these look terrible - you can see the hair through them. If this is going to be realistic, should I get rid of them?" I hadn't even thought about this before the words just popped out. "Why, Donna, I guess you're right. Take that stocking off, and we'll take care of it right now." I rolled the stocking down, and she led me into the bathroom.

She lathered up my legs, and using her pink razor, she whisked all my leg hair off. I briefly considered the consequences, but dismissed them immediately. I wanted to do everything I could to save our marriage, after all. So what if I couldn't go to the gym for a while. We went back inside, and continued dressing me. When I put the stockings back on, they felt so much sexier and erotic on my newly shaven legs. The open bottom of the all-in-one was covered by a pair of silky white panties, then she handed me a white knit dress. I held it over my head, then allowed it to slip over my body. She brought over white pumps with 3" heels, and I stepped into them. For the first time, I was dressed totally as a woman, and I rushed over to look at myself in the full-length mirror. I couldn't recognize myself, so completely had I been transformed!

The knit dress clung to every curve that had been formed by the all-in-one, and my sleek, smooth legs shone beneath the silky nylons. The spike-heeled shoes accented the curves of my legs, and, looking up, my long blonde hair framed my perfectly madeup face. I batted my long eyelashes, and I practically simpered as I asked her, "Do I look pretty?" "You look beautiful, Donna, just breathtaking. Would you like to help me dress now?" I said," Sure," then remembered my pledge not to make her wear the uncomfortable male underwear. I told her what I had discussed with Dr. Welles, and she thanked me, stripping off the boxers and T-shirt. She put on a pair of her own panties as I got out socks, a shirt and a pair of slacks. She put them on, teasingly saying that the buttons were on the "wrong" side. We both laughed at that, then I brought her into the bathroom to fix her hair. She already had a fairly short hairstyle, so with a little gel, I was able to comb it into something resembling a man's cut. Even without any makeup, her face was very feminine, though, but there wasn't anything we could do about that. The shirt hid her breasts pretty well, I thought, but she looked much, much less like a guy than I did as a woman. Somehow, I felt some pride in how well I had been transformed.

We went downstairs, with me walking carefully as I negotiated the steps in my heels. I began to make us some breakfast, as Carl read the paper and drank a cup of coffee. I felt so happy being able to do this for her, and I knew that I my feminine side was becoming more pronounced almost minute by minute. When Carl said, "Got another cup of coffee for me, babe?" I recognized the words as ones I had often used, so apparently her assumption of the traditional male dominant role was taking place as well. After breakfast, I cleaned up while she went in and went through the mail. I found that I needed to go to the bathroom to pee, and I found myself automatically sitting down without thinking about it. I seemed to be having these momentary lapses of consciousness, but I attributed it to the new role I was playing.

I busied myself for the rest of the morning by doing some laundry, and when I was getting ready to put on the load of feminine undies, I found myself staring at each item and fondling it before putting it in the washer. I found that I loved the silky feel of them, and only reluctantly let go of each one. While I was waiting for that wash to finish, I sat down in the kitchen and had another cup of coffee. Carol came up behind me, and began to nuzzle at my neck. I felt waves of erotic sensations surging through me, and when she whispered, "Donna, sweetums, I feel kind of horny," I wanted to be made love to desperately. "Me, too," I responded, as she took my hand and led me upstairs. She helped me off with my dress and panties, leaving the rest of my clothes in place. She stripped her clothes off quickly, and we got into bed, in a 69-position. I immediately lowered my face into her womanhood, licking at her erect clit. She reached under my all-in-one and began to stroke my erect cock. "Does this feel good, Donna, sweetums?" she asked. Again, when she said those words, a surge went through me, and I wanted her to play with my ass. "Put your finger inside me, Carl, please," I begged. She slid her other hand inside my clothes, and put her moistened finger on my tiny rosebud. She teased me with it, slipping the tip of it in and out, until I begged her again to enter me. I felt myself relaxing as her finger went all the way inside me, and begin to move back and forth with the rhythm of her cock-stroking. "More, more," I begged, and a second, then a third finger joined the first. She pumped me, as I continued to eat her pussy, and we finally came together with thundering orgasms.

We lay still for a moment, then she started to grind her pussy against my face wanting more. As I began to eat her again, she moistened her fingers with my cum, and reinserted her fingers inside me. I knew that I wanted to be filled like this, and the slippery fingers felt so wonderful inside me. My hips were thrusting to match her movements, and she didn't stop until she came twice more, covering my face with her juices. I lay there, amazed at how much I had wanted to be filled by her, something I had never even thought of before. But it had felt so good, being penetrated by her, just like a real woman!

I knew that I was a real mess, and in a few moments I got up to wash my face and fix my makeup. Carol lay in bed, watching me, and asked, "Isn't doing housework a bitch, you always feel like a maid, Donna, don't you?" When she said that something snapped inside me, and I said, "I'd be happy to be your maid, dear." It wasn't a conscious thought, it just popped out. Carol got up and went over to the suitcase. She pulled out some frilly black things, and said, "Well, if that's what you want..." She helped me out of my all-in-one and stockings, and began to lace me into a black satin waist-cincher. If I had thought the all-in-one was tight, this was crushing. I gasped as Carol laced up the back, eyelet by eyelet. "I can't wait to see how sexy you look in this outfit of a maid, Donna," she said. As soon as she said "maid, Donna," I wanted so much to be laced up that the protest I had started to make died on my lips unsaid. She handed me sheer, seamed black stockings and I automatically rolled them up my legs and attached them to the garters hanging from the cincher. She held out a pair of lace-ruffled satin panties, and to my eyes, they were the most desirable thing I had ever seen. I sat there, clad in feminine finery from the waist down, and placed my arms through the straps of the longline bra Carol held out for me. I saw that my tits were totally exposed - there was underwiring and the outline of bra cups, but no cups themselves. The puffy flesh of my chest formed into two mounds, and Carol pulled even more through the cup outlines. Even without padding I saw that I had two real breasts, of my own flesh, although they were quite small, of course. But they were real, and when Donna said, "Do you like your new titties, Donna?" a surge of pleasure raced through me, and I nodded, `yes', unable to speak.

She then helped me into the maid's dress I felt I wanted to wear so much. It had self-contained crinoline petticoats underneath the black satin skirt, and though it had a bodice, it ended below the bottoms of my new titties, leaving them fully exposed. I raised one red-tipped hand to my breast, and caressed it lightly, feeling how firm it felt. My nipple hardened, and I rolled it between two red nails. The sight of myself in the mirror while I did this was tremendously exciting, making my cock get erect again inside my satin panties. "Enough fooling around, Maid Donna," Carol said, "there's plenty of work to do to make the house sparkle and shine." I jumped up and began to do housework, as though it were the most wonderful task in the world. And the only thoughts inside my head were to please Carol by doing a good job, showing her that I could fully understand the feminine perspective.

By early evening, the house shone, and Carol complimented me on what a good job I'd done. "The whole house looks great, Donna, you've done a wonderful job." I beamed with pleasure, and thanked her. "What would you like to do now, Donna sweetums?" she asked. I suddenly wanted to make love again, and I said so. We practically ran upstairs, and when she laid me back on the bed, and asked, "How would you like to make love, Donna sweetums, Donna sweetums?" I answered, "I want to be made love to like a woman, Carol, I want to be filled by you." I lay there passively and watched her put on a harness-like device around her waist. She inserted one end of a double-sided dildo inside herself, then walked over and stood above me. "Do you want this, Donna sweetums, Donna sweetums?" "Oh, yes, please, Carol, fuck me in my ass, I want your cock inside me!" I begged. She lubricated the tip of the dildo, and positioned it at my opening. I moved forward, as if to suck it inside me, previously unknown thoughts driving me to do it. She slowly slid the false cock inside me, but I wanted more, now, faster, as she whispered, "Donna sweetums," over and over in my ear. Each time she said that I wanted it more, until the full 8" length of her cock was buried inside me. I began to rock my hips in a primitive rhythm, and she matched my movements, withdrawing the cock almost out of me, then plunging the full length into me again and again.

Waves of intense pleasure surged through me, and she kept whispering in my ear, "I'm fucking your virgin ass-pussy, Donna sweetums." The movement of the dildo inside her soon had her first at the brink, then over the edge of orgasm, and I moved my hand to my cock, picturing the red nails against the blood-filled flesh, and brought on my own orgasm, as she gave a final, savage thrust into me. I lay there, filled and contented beyond belief, feeling so much like a woman, and loving every second of it. When she finally began to withdraw from me, I saw that the dildo was streaked with blood, but far from being upset, I felt it was like the blood that every virgin gives up to her first lover. Carol seemed more concerned about it than I did, but I hugged her close to me, feeling her resting on my new titties. My nipples were still erect, from the touch of her against me. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart, its nothing," I said. "Are you sure, Donna?" I just hugged her again in response, filled with love. "But maybe its your period, Donna," she continued. When she said that I nodded, and said, "maybe I need a tampon, dear." Another thought out of left field that just popped out.

Before I knew it, she had gone away and returned with one of her tampons. "Are you sure its your period, Donna?" and I said, "Yes, please put the tampon in my ass-pussy, dear." She did, and although it was much smaller than the ass-filling dildo had been, it was still comforting to feel its presence inside my woman-hole.

We lay there together for a while, and I felt a little tired from the day's activities. I told this to her, and she said, "do you want to sleep now, Donna dear?" As soon as she said that, I grew unbelievably tired all of a sudden, not able to keep my eyes open. I felt myself falling immediately to sleep, as dreams, strange but pleasurable, filled my head.

The next thing I knew, Carol was whispering something in my ear, and I woke up, feeling as refreshed as I did after one of our sessions with Dr. Welles. She said, "C'mon, sleepyhead, its morning already." I had slept right through the night! Carol had apparently removed the maid's clothes from me, because I was wearing a gauzy nightgown and panties. As I took stock of my situation, I realized that I still had my tampon, though, and around my chest was a regular version of the cup-less bra I had worn yesterday. She had apparently also given me another facial mask, because I could feel its hardened presence on my face. Carol played with my breasts through the nightgown, asking me, "do you still like your titties, Donna?" Again, the surge of

pleasure at her words, and I found myself getting aroused inside my panties. When her hand moved down to touch me, I wanted her to make love to me again. And she did, sitting on my erect cock, sliding up and down until she made both of us cum.

In the back of my mind, as I lay there, the thought crept in that when Carol said certain things to me, my reactions were almost involuntary. I tried to shake the feeling away, but it persisted. Even thinking the words to myself caused some of the reaction to happen. "Titties, Donna" made me proud of my fleshy chest growths, "Donna sweetums" made me think of being fucked in the ass. I didn't understand why it was so, but it was. When Carol returned from the bathroom, I mentioned it to her, but she dismissed the idea. "Don't be silly, its just your mind playing tricks on you. You're learning the feminine perspective, and those words must be enhancing your feelings for the moment. I love you so much, silly little Donna-head," she said, and the thoughts immediately left my head.

In a while we got up, showered and got dressed. The outfit Carol had selected for me was a nice cotton shirtwaist dress, and underneath I wore panties and pantyhose. Carol had given me a regular bra to wear, and the silicone forms, but I asked if I could continue wearing the bra I already had on. I liked the way my own flesh was formed into breasts, though it seemed as if they were a bit larger than they had been yesterday. I must really be getting out of shape, I thought. Though, they did look awfully cute. Carol put on a sweatsuit I had chosen for her, and she fixed her hair with the gel while I shaved. My beard was actually very light, I thought as I put on a little makeup. I didn't put on as much as yesterday, but my skin was so soft and smooth from the facial mask that it still looked very feminine.

We just lounged around for most of the morning, reading the Sunday papers, and about noontime, I made us a nice little brunch. I cleaned up after we had finished eating, then Carol changed into slacks and a sweater. She asked me if I would like to go out and do a little shopping. "Honey, I can't go out dressed as a woman. People would spot me in a minute." "Don't be silly, you look so cute, no one would ever be able to tell that you're my husband, dressed in women's clothes," she said. I refused, saying that while I had agreed to spend the weekend like this, I certainly hadn't agreed to go outside. "Oh, honey," she said, "shopping is such a big part of being a woman. I really think we should have a shopping party, Donna dearest!" When she said that, all the arguments I had against going out just flew out of my mind. The next thing I knew, she was helping me on with my coat, and I picked up my purse and walked out to the car with her. My head was filled with the overwhelming impulse to go shopping, in spite of what I had been saying just moments before.

We arrived at the mall, and she said, "Ready for our shopping party, Donna dearest?" and the urge to go inside and shop got even stronger. This wasn't the mall where we usually shopped, so I was in strange surroundings, but Carol seemed to know her way around. I followed her around, my worries about being spotted resurfacing from time to time, but diminishing as I didn't see any unusual reactions toward me. "I don't really need anything," Carol said, "so why don't we just pick up a few things for you?" She led me into a lingerie store, and before I could form the words, "but I'm only dressed like this for the weekend," she said, "let's make this a real special shopping party, Donna dearest, and pick up some frillies of your very own. You have to return the things you borrowed to Dr. Welles, you know." That seemed to make sense to me, or at least some kind of sense. The last thing I remember, after walking into the shop, was Carol saying something to the owner, then turning to ask me, "are you in some kind of a trance, Donna dearest?" Then suddenly we were leaving the shop, carrying a bunch of packages and shopping bags.

We got back into the car and drove home. On the way, I asked Carol what had gone on in the shop, because I was confused, and couldn't seem to remember. "You know, Donna, your IQ must have dropped when you started wearing the blonde wig. You seem to be spacing out all the time." I was embarrassed, so I didn't say anything else. When we got home, I mentioned to her that my nipples were very sensitive, and the cotton dress seemed to be aggravating them, making them sore. "Well, why don't you pick out something softer from the shopping bag of things we just bought at our shopping party, Donna dearest?" she suggested. I went upstairs with the bag, and started to look through it. There were a number of silky dresses that seemed a little too dressy for a Sunday afternoon, I thought, but there was a particularly nice wool skirt, with a matching pink silk blouse that I thought would be very attractive. I took off the dress I was wearing, and slipped my arms into the soft smooth blouse. As I was buttoning it up, I noticed how my titties were filling out the blouse, and I could have sworn they were even larger than they had been this morning. The touch of the silky material against them sent sensuous waves through me, and I could see my nipples, erect, I guessed from the irritation of the cotton, jutting out through the fabric. It felt wonderful, I thought, as I pulled on the curve hugging skirt. Damn, I must be putting on weight, as well as being out of shape I thought, as I looked at the smooth curves of my buns under the skirt. It seemed as though they were much larger than they had been a week before.

I looked for shoes that would go with the pink outfit, and not seeing anything more suitable, I slipped on the 3" white pumps I had worn yesterday. I brushed out y hair, and fixed my makeup before going downstairs. "My, my, don't you look sweet, dear," Carol said to me when I walked into the room. "Almost good enough to eat." My cock was a little hard inside my panties, and just the slightest bulge showed in the front of the skirt. Her words turned me on, and I saw myself bulging out more and more. She laughed, and knelt down in front of me. She lifted my skirt, lowered my panties, and began to teasingly lick on my erection. Her hands wandered up my body, and began to caress my titties, making the jutting of my nipples even more pronounced. She was murmuring things as she licked my cock, and she finally asked, "do you like wearing those clothes, Donna, do they feel nice?" I sighed, "Yes, yes," as she took me into her mouth, and quickly sucked me to climax. My cum was all over her lips, and I felt the urge to kiss her, and taste what my essence was like. I put my lipsticked mouth on hers, and as we kissed, she slid the wad of my cum that had been in her mouth into mine. The salty taste was different, and it heightened the sensuous kiss.

We were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. I went over and picked it up, and heard Dr. Welles' voice. "How is the weekend going, Donna?" she asked. "Oh, just great, I think we're really coming along, Doctor," I said. "That's wonderful, dear. Listen, I know that this is at the last minute, but I'm having a small get-together at my house this evening, and I was wondering if you and Carol would like to join us?" I wondered if the woman could be serious - she knew that I, we had promised to spend the weekend in reversed roles, and I started to remind her of that. But she said, "It will just be a small formal party, Donna

dearest. You can wear a nice gown, and Carol can wear the tux you picked out for her." When she said small formal party, the idea sounded good somehow, and I told her to hold on while I checked with Carol. "You do that, dear," she chuckled, and Carol immediately said, "Sure, why not?" Dr. Welles gave me the details on time and place, and hung up.

Carol said that we'd better start getting ready right away, and we went upstairs to prepare. She started a bubble bath for me, and when I got in, I noticed that my breasts were definitely larger than I had thought, and they looked quite sexy with the bubbles floating around them. I tried to concentrate on them, wondering what was happening, but Carol called out, "C'mon, slowpoke, you can't spend all night in there!" I dried myself off, and wrapped the towel around me, not from the waist down as I normally would, but over my chest to hide my fleshiness. Could I be somehow taking on the shape of a woman, just from trying to think, feel and act like one?

Carol had already gotten into her tux, and I complimented her on how nice she looked. Her feminine shape wasn't really hidden by it, though. She looked more like an actress I had seen once on an award show who had worn a similar outfit. I looked on the bed, and saw the underwear she had selected for me. I groaned a little when I saw a red waist cincher, knowing how tight it was going to be. I was right, in fact it was even tighter than the black one. It took a few minutes for me to be able to get used to breathing again. There were sheer red stockings there, and I sat down to attach them to the garters. A pair of red satin panties slid easily over them, and Carol fastened on a strapless red bra. I gasped when I saw what it did for, to me. It only had half cups, and there were pads inside that pushed my titties upward, giving me a tremendous amount of cleavage. The cups just barely covered my nipples, and I asked Carol if maybe this wasn't a bit too much. "But the gown you're going to wear is so low-cut, you need to wear this bra. Besides, don't you want to show off your titties, Donna?" Suddenly, I felt that I really did, and I stood up so Carol could help me into my gown. I couldn't believe how beautiful it was - a deep red velvet, with long sleeves, formfitting down to the waist, with a slightly relaxed sheath skirt. I slipped it over my head, and I realized from the fit that I really had needed such a tight waist cincher to be able to wear this lovely gown! And as she zipped me up, I saw what she had meant about the bra - my creamy globes were lifted above the neckline, showing off my cleavage. I was in a daze as she applied my makeup, and brushed my hair. Finally, she placed the highest heels I had ever worn, they must have been 4" or more on my feet. She was standing in front of the dressing table mirror, so I couldn't see what I looked like, but when I stood in front of the full mirror....

I was a vision in red. The tight gown accented my curves, and between the contrast of my blonde hair and white breasts and the red of the dress, the effect was stunning. If I had been told I would look like this if someone dressed me as a woman, I'd never have believed them, but there was undeniable proof right before my eyes. "You are a real knockout, Donna. Ready for the small, formal party, Donna?" "Yes, of course, I can't wait, dear," I said, and we went downstairs to leave.

It was only a short drive to Dr. Welles' house, and my euphoric feeling continued until we rang her bell. "Carol, I'm upset about this, I just know that I'm going to be spotted as a man." "Don't be silly, darling, Dr. Welles wouldn't put you in a situation she didn't think you could handle..." she answered, interrupted by the opening of the door. Dr. Welles stood there greeting us. "Welcome, welcome, come on in," she urged. And this was quite a different Dr. Welles - instead of the business-like suits she wore for our sessions, with her hair in a severe up-style, she looked absolutely gorgeous in a figure-hugging black evening gown that showed off her curves wonderfully. Her long hair swept down around her face, reaching well below her shoulders. "My, you're beautiful, Donna, I just knew you would be. Please, come in and meet the others. I didn't mention this before, but the other guests are all at the same stage of counseling," she said as she led us inside, "having a role reversal weekend. But none of the husbands look nearly as good as you, Donna!" My mind struggles to assimilate what she had said - that the other men would be dressed as women, and the women as men too! Somehow this seemed to relieve my anxiety, and when I saw the six people in the living room, I knew that it would be OK.

There was no doubt that what she had said was true - the other guys looked like men in dresses, none of them would have been able to pass as women. And the wives were all wearing tuxedos, just like Carol. It was definitely a strange group. Dr. Welles said a few words, "Thank you all for coming tonight. This is an important part of the counseling process, the learning of how to socialize while you are in your `other' side. You'll find that the roles of men and women are very different at these occasions, and it will advance your process considerably. But that's enough about why we're here, let's just all have a good time!" We took her at her word, and began to chat, as one normally does at cocktail parties. Dr. Welles' maid carried around a tray with champagne, and I took a glass in my hand. I noticed that the outfit was pretty similar to the one I had worn, though the top, of course, was much more modest, not exposing her breasts. I was a little surprised by this, not picturing Dr. Welles as someone who would be into sexual stereotyping, but looking at the sexy babe, I couldn't knock tradition.

As is normal, the guys and girls clustered together, but the conversation was much different than usual. Instead of sports, the four gown-clad men talked about the weekend's adventure. One of them said, "I would never have pictured myself this way, dressed in women's clothes. But I really have gotten into it, and I am starting to see things from my wife's perspective." I piped up that I had been surprised to find out how comfortable panties were, and how pantyhose kept you so much warmer in the cold. There was a general nodding of heads, and I realized that mine was not a unique discovery. "I love the way panties feel under my suit," one of them said, "and even when the counseling is over, I'm through with boxer shorts for good." Again, there was a nodding of agreement from all of us.

There was music playing in the background, and Carol came over to me and asked me to dance. She assumed the male position, and I snuggled myself against her. Her hand stroked my velvet-covered back, and slid down to rest for a second on my buns. "Don't be so fresh, dear," I teased her, as she led me around the floor. "You are the prettiest `girl' here, Donna," she said, laughingly, "I guess I just can't help myself." About an hour later, I realized that I had to go to the bathroom, so I headed upstairs. When I had finished, I passed a closed door as I was heading down the hall toward the stairs. Suddenly I heard voices behind a closed door - Carol's and Dr. Welles. "And he doesn't suspect anything, Carol, about what's happening to him?" Dr. Welles asked. "No, not a thing, though I've had to use the post-hypnotic phrases quite a bit to keep him on track," Carol answered. Post-hypnotic phrases - suddenly I realized why certain things Carol had said to me had caused unusual reactions! These bitches had been brainwashing me, and I had been going merrily along, believing that I was trying to save our marriage. I threw open the door, and shouted, "What have you been doing to me?" They looked around at me, and Dr. Welles said, "shut the door, Donna, and lower your voice. You wouldn't want to upset the others." I definitely did want to upset the others, and I was going to keep yelling, but for some reason, my voice wouldn't go above a normal tone. "What kind of a crazy plot is this, making guys dress up as girls, what's going on?"

Dr. Welles said in a calm tone, "Freeze, Donna," and I found myself unable to move or speak. I could see and hear perfectly, however, and the words she spoke chilled me. "Carol heard about the unique counseling services I offer from one of her friends. I help wives become the dominant partners in marriages, and turn their husbands into simpering, feminized slaves. I've found that macho assholes like you make ideal sissies, and by using hypnosis, they remain under their wives' control forever. I guess you'd say that I'm at the forefront of the women's movement, not satisfied with equality between the genders, but in favor of promoting the natural superiority of women!" I saw her open the door, and call out, "Bobbi, would you come up here for a minute?"

Moments later, there was a knock on the door, then the maid entered the room. "You see, Donna," Dr. Welles continued, "I've been doing this for quite a while, and quite successfully, I might add. I'd like to introduce you to my husband, Bobbi, formerly know as Robert." That beautiful maid was a guy? I couldn't believe it. I hadn't had a clue, in fact, looking at him, her, I still didn't believe it. My skepticism must have shown on my face, because Dr. Welles said, "Strip off your clothes, Bobbi, to prove what I said is true." The maid's outfit was off in a flash, and when he pulled down his panties, a long cock was clearly visible. "Take off your bra, too, Bobbi," Dr. Welles said, and when he did, I saw that he had a large pair of well-defined breasts! "You may have noticed some changes in your own body, Donna, a softening of your skin, growth of your breasts, a changing of your hips and buttocks? Those have been caused by a special hormonal implant I gave you, the night of your second session with me. I've done some quite advanced research, and have managed to isolate the particular components of estrogen which enhance breast and body development into feminine proportions without reducing the penis or testicle size. Also, it doesn't inhibit sexual desire, which was one of the major problems before."

I could not believe what I was hearing - she and Carol had been conspiring to turn me into a feminized slave, and I knew that they had already made significant progress! I wanted to scream out, to protest, to kill them, for doing this to me, but I was still frozen, unable to speak. "I know just how you're feeling right now, Donna," she said, as my mind shouted, "stop calling me that - my name is Don!" "There are a few other things you might as well know - Carol hasn't told you, but she's gotten a major promotion at work. So a second income, yours, isn't going to be needed. But we'll arrange for you to go on disability, so Carol will still have some extra cash, when you have to leave your job. The hormonal implant can't be reversed, and you'll continue to experience body changes for another six months or so, until you have as nice a feminine shape as Bobbi here. Carol will, of course, know all the post-hypnotic commands to keep you under control at all times, but after a while, I doubt she'll even have to use them - you'll grow to love your new role." My mind said, "No way, I'll get out of this mess somehow, now that I know about this I'll be able to resist the commands." Again, a look must have tipped her off to what I was feeling, and she turned to Carol and laughed, "She doesn't believe it, even after I've told her all this." Carol laughed as well, and said, "maybe you should prove it to him, Nora." "Why not, Carol, after all this is a party, isn't it?" Addressing me she said, "Slut-slave Donna, unfreeze Donna, and obey Mistress Carol."

My body unstiffened, and I could move again, but when Carol commanded, "Suck Bobbi's cock, slut-slave Donna," I could only walk over and kneel in front of his limp cock. I was compelled to put my lips around it, and I began to lick and suck him to erection. It lengthened, stiffened and grew wider, filling my mouth, and he began to pump in and out of me. It went all the way down my throat, gagging me for a second, and I felt tears starting to form in my eyes. "Enjoy it, slut-slave Donna," Carol commanded, and the repulsion I felt disappeared. I was enjoying it, and my entire mind was focused on the pleasure I felt from my cock-sucking! "Stop, Donna," Carol ordered, and I did, though I didn't want to. "Come here, lift your dress over your hips, kneel in front of me, and eat my pussy, slut-slave Donna." I obeyed without question, lifting my first my dress, then lowering her pants and panties. She spread her legs to give me access, and as I sunk my mouth into her mound, I heard Dr. Welles saying something to Bobbi. As I ate her pussy, I felt my panties being pulled down, and Bobbi's rigid shaft touched my ass-cunt. "Enjoy this, Donna sweetums," Carol ordered, as I felt his huge cock begin to penetrate me. My hole was totally relaxed as I continued eating Carol's sopping cunt, and in a minute, I had the wonderful contented feeling of having my inside filled with cock, a real one this time, instead of the false one Carol had used. Carol gripped my head tightly against her, and the licking I was doing brought her to a swift climax. Bobbi continued his pounding thrusting fucking of my ass, while Carol moved away from me, and I found myself looking at another dripping cunt, this time, Dr. Welles'.

I began working on her, and when I felt Bobbi give his final thrust, his hot steamy cum shot up into my bowels. "Make Donna feel good now, Bobbi," Dr. Welles ordered. He reached his hand under my ass, snaking between my legs, until he could grasp my cock. He stroked me gently, while I continued to service Dr. Welles, and we both came a moment later. I continued to kneel there, pussy-juices soaking my face, Bobbi's cum dripping out of my ass, and I began to sob with the realization of what had been done to me, and what was yet to come. "I think you are getting the picture Donna -the extent of Carol's control over you. Your body with continue to become more feminine, and only if you please Carol will your life be anything other than hell on earth. On the other hand, should you keep her very happy, you can have a good life as well. Now why don't you get yourself up, fix your makeup, and come back downstairs. I hope that I don't have to explicitly tell you to keep what you've learned to yourself - not all the men are quite as far along as you are, and I don't want any trouble, understand?" I nodded in agreement, because I had barely been able to assimilate my own situation, much less give any thought to how to help the others. We only stayed at the party for a few minutes after I returned downstairs, and then we left to drive home. I asked Carol why she had done this to me, but her only response was, "It was something we both needed."

I don't know whether that was true or not even now, two years after the events in my story took place. Dr. Welles was correct when she said that my body would continue to become more feminine, my breasts are now fully developed, and almost all my body hair has disappeared. My head is now crowned with my own long silky hair, and electrolysis removed the last remnants of my beard. Except for my cock, which is as big as ever, and fully functional, there is no way that anyone who looks at me could ever think that I am, was, a man. Carol treats me well, and except for playing B&D games once in a while, doesn't mistreat or torture me. On the other hand, I have become a really good girlfriend for her. I don't really miss going to work, and I've learned to love being a woman, even the less pleasant aspects, like housework. But one thing that Dr. Welles was wrong about, I have been able to learn to resist the post hypnotic suggestions, at least some of the time.

But then again, as I sit here, proofreading this story, in frilly black panties, with my new breasts filling the cups of my 40C bra, my long lacquered fingernails stroking my erect cock, and my prostate being massaged by a vibrating butt-plug, well, I can only say, "What more could a girl ask for?"