The Waitress

It all seemed so innocent at first....

She was the one with the job, so I stayed at home and did the housework. I was quite proficient at cooking and she asked me if I would mind cooking for a few of her women friends - there would be four of them including herself. I agreed and the meal was arranged for the following weekend.

SUNDAY MORNING

As I returned to the bedroom after my shower, I wore my bath towel around my waist as usual. She watched me from the bed and said, "You know, that towel looks like a long skirt."

"It looks very elegant on you as you are so slim. I might see if I can find a long skirt to fit you - you could wear it on Friday evening and make my lady friends feel more at home. Would you mind, dear?"

She spoke sweetly, but I knew she could be very determined. Sometimes it was better to go along with her ideas. And anyway, I couldn't see any harm in looking elegant to please her and her friends, so I said it would be OK.

She was soon up and checking my measurements - waist, hips, inside leg - before letting me put on the rest of my clothes and go downstairs to do my chores.

MONDAY EVENING

She arrived back at the house with several shopping bags. "Well, I think that's been a successful visit to the mall," she said. "How long before the meal is ready?"

I replied that I had just put the casserole in the oven and it would take about an hour. "Right," she said, "I want this skirt to look really elegant, so it will be best if you shave your legs. The material needs to slide easily against your skin. So go and have a quick shower and shave yourself. Then you can try the skirt on."

Although shaving my legs seemed to me to be an unnecessary precaution, I knew better than to start an argument.

In the shower I shaved my legs, then my bottom, and then thinking I might as well go all the way I shaved off my pubic hair too. I walked to the bedroom with my towel on as usual. She was waiting for me. I removed the towel and she nodded approvingly at my hairless lower body.

"Very smooth," she remarked. "Now to help your skirt slide easily against your body I bought a waist slip to wear under it."

"Oh, and also some silky knickers."

"Finish drying yourself and slip them on."

The pink knickers felt deliciously cool and soft on my hairless skin and she noticed my cock stiffen slightly. "You like those, don't you dear?" she giggled.

I stepped into the black waist slip and pulled it up to my waist. Then carefully stepped into the long black skirt, taking care to avoid catching my slip in the zipper of the skirt.

"Breathe in," she said, then fastened the skirt at the back and closed the zip.

Stepping back, she looked at the effect. "Hmm, The skirt is too long. But I thought it might be," she said, "so I got something to make you a little taller."

"Sit on the bed for a moment. She slipped pop socks on my feet and then helped me on with some black shoes. She helped me stand up on what seemed quite high heels. "They're only one and a half inches high, but they make all the difference. Your skirt is now the perfect length! Now slip this blouse on and let's have supper."

She gave me a black blouse, which I struggled with a little because the buttons were on the opposite side from what I was used to. "Don't worry, you'll soon get the hang of them," she said.

I walked downstairs very carefully. Not only was I wearing heels, but also the long skirt restricted my movements.

But I couldn't help noticing the way the layers of underwear slid against each other and against my skin. Wearing heels made my bottom feel larger and move more as I walked, so that the cheeks of my bum were caressed by my silky knickers.

My knickers also gently supported my cock and balls.

I realised that I liked wearing them very much!

I found myself moving more elegantly as I served supper, and was careful to use my napkin to protect my skirt from any splashes - I hadn't usually bothered with a napkin before. After supper she watched me clearing the table.

"I think that outfit really suits you," she said. "Does it feel good?"

I nodded, not wanting to say just how stimulating it really felt.

"I think you should wear it all week. I can see that you still need to get used to walking in those heels and taking dainty steps when wearing a skirt. I got you a few changes of underwear and blouses."

At bedtime, she showed me how to hang up the skirt to avoid creases. Then as I was taking off my other things she said, "You can leave your knickers on if you like. I can see you enjoy wearing them. Your little dickie is already semi-hard."

Once in bed she fondled my balls in my silky knickers until my cock was harder than it had been for months.

Then she pulled my knickers down and straddled me, taking full control, partly with the rhythm but also by the grip of her cunt muscles, until finally I not just spurted, but positively gushed inside her.

When she had finished milking my cock, and it had started to shrink, she moved up to straddle my face so that I could lick out her juices mingled with my own cum.

When she was satisfied, I could at last get my breath back, pull my comforting knickers up round my aching cock, and relax like a baby in her warm embrace.

TUESDAY

I was up first as usual and put my knickers in the washing basket. In the shower I found that my shower gel had disappeared, so I had to use the one with the more feminine fragrance.

Returning to the bedroom I reached out a clean pair of knickers from my drawer, noticing that not only were there now a large number of pairs of silky feminine knickers, but that none of my male underpants seemed to be there any more.

I put on pop socks before stepping into slip and skirt, then put on my blouse and stepped into my shoes.

Once again I was aware of the change to the shape of my body made by these quite modest heels, and the resulting increased awareness of the feel of my silky knickers on my bottom and genitals.

During the day, I found that while the long skirt might be superb in terms of elegance, it was rather restricting with regard to housework activities. I mentioned this over supper.

"Well, I did think this might be the case, so I bought you a shorter skirt to wear round the house," was the reply. "Come upstairs and we'll see if it fits."

At her instruction I removed my long skirt and slip. She held up the new skirt to my waist. It was made from quite a light fabric and was pleated to allow plenty of movement. It came to just below the knee.

"I think you'll find this more practical for housework," she said, "but it will look a bit silly with pop socks. So I got you some full length stockings. But you'll need to wear a suspender-belt to hold them up."

She helped me fasten the suspender-belt around my waist and told me to thread the suspenders down inside my knickers, which I did.

I took off the pop socks and she showed me how to gather the tan stockings in my hands and carefully deploy them onto my legs, finally fastening the shiny stocking-tops to the suspenders.

This activity resulted in my cock stiffening into semi-erectness, a fact which (to judge by her expression) did not escape her notice.

"Just slip off your blouse for the moment. The suspender-belt was part of a set and I had to buy the bra as well, so you might as well put it on. I got the smallest cup size available."

As it was a minimum cup size, the bra was already slightly padded, but not enough to give me a noticeable bust (at least that's how it seemed to me). But the padding made it comfortable to wear without the need to insert any other material in the cups.

I put my blouse back on, put on my pleated skirt, and stepped into my shoes. I became suddenly aware that for the first time I was really dressed entirely in girly clothes.

Not just knickers and a skirt, but now bra and stockings too.

And instead of a long skirt that clung to my legs, I now had a floaty pleated skirt that almost felt as if it wasn't there.

We ate supper and then watched television. I don't remember what programmes were on, but I do remember her hand reaching up my skirt to fondle my nylon-clad thighs.

There followed another night where I was surprised by the power of my erection, but again she was on top and completely in control.

Once again I had to lick the juices out of her cunt before I could pull my comforting knickers up over my aching cock and relax.

WEDNESDAY

Before she went out she showed me a pair of flat-heeled Mary Jane shoes and also a pair of black trousers. "If you need to go shopping, you can wear these," she said, "but you can wear all your underwear like you had on yesterday".

I understood it was more than just a suggestion. But there again, it had been a long time since we'd had such great sex (indeed any sort of sex on more than an occasional basis), so I knew that I would be wearing what she said.

After she'd gone to work I found she had already started a shopping list:

1 x Maybelline Royal Red lipstick

1 pack x Tampax Pearl Regular

1 x Calvin Klein "Seductive Comfort" T-Shirt Bra size 36B She had also specified at which stores I should purchase each item.

I didn't know whether all these items were meant for me to use, or whether it was just a challenge for me to go out and buy them. But anyway, I added the other items we needed to the list and went back upstairs to change.

The trousers were stretchy and tight-fitting above the knee. The knickers she had chosen for me this morning had frills around the leg-holes, so there was a definite Visible Panty Line.

Even without an erection, the trousers showed off the bulge of my genitals and the outlines of my suspenders were also apparent.

The legs were slightly flared, so definitely rather girly, and I realised that unless I stood absolutely still they would not conceal that I was wearing Mary Janes over nylons. There were no pockets to put money in.

Nevertheless, I knew that my coat would cover the upper thigh area and decided that the risk of people recognising my footwear for what it was would be either unlikely or stimulating.

But when I got to the front porch, my coat was nowhere to be seen. There was a pink, zip-front jacket hanging up, with a note on the hook saying "Wear This!"

Realising that I could not escape the inevitable, I put it on and zipped it up. It only came down to my waist, where it fitted closely. It was a looser fit around my chest, which somehow gave the impression that I had a bust.

And of course it did nothing to conceal how my trousers fitted closely around what was underneath them!

There was a purse on the hook with it, and as there was no other option I had to carry this with my money and credit cards in.

I did manage to purchase all the items on the shopping list, although I did have to endure a few comments:

"This colour makes a statement, doesn't it?" (lipstick).

"I haven't tried these, are they good?" (Tampax Pearl).

"Keep the receipt in case it doesn't fit you, sir" (bra).

I noticed that the girl at the supermarket where I bought the regular items had a good look at the way my trousers fitted (and presumably recognised that they were women's trousers), but as she handed me my change she merely remarked, "That pink jacket suits you!"

I got back home, aware that a number of women had recognised that I was out in public, dressed in clothes designed to reveal the fact that I was a sissy.

I reflected that they probably realised that I was under the control of a strong woman (rather than being just a sad loner), and this made them feel empowered to make their remarks.

With a feeling of satisfaction that I had empowered several women I changed back into my skirt and heels.

While hanging up my (women's) trousers, I discovered that they were now the only trousers in the wardrobe. A tingle ran up my spine.

That evening she trained me how to curtsey. I'm not sure that this was the traditional way of doing it, but I had to lift the front of my pleated skirt to about mid-thigh, then bend my knees while keeping my hands a constant height from the floor.

In other words, having partially lifted my skirt I then had to bob down so that my stocking-tops and the front of my knickers were revealed below the hem of my skirt.

She made me do this dozens of times before she was satisfied, but eventually she was satisfied enough to snog me on the settee, with her hand up my skirt, stroking the bare flesh above my stocking-tops, then fondling my dick through my knickers.

I realised that this was the essence of girliness - a skirt offers no resistance to one's partner's hand exploring one's underwear, and one can part one's knees to demonstrate one's compliance.

I also realised first hand how erotic it is to feel fingers stroking the bare flesh between stocking-tops and knickers. I knew I would never want to wear pantyhose.

After a day in which I had not only realised my true sissiness for myself but had been made to reveal the same to several women, my cock seemed more eager than ever to pleasure my wife/mistress.

And after I had sucked and licked our juices from her cunt she reached under the pillow and presented me with a short silky nightie, just reaching down to my waist so as not to conceal my knickers.

She, of course, slept in the nude.

THURSDAY

She showed no signs of going to work at the usual time. "I'm taking the morning off and we have an appointment at the beauty salon. Make sure you have a close shave. Wear your new bra - it will look more natural to have a bust in a beauty salon, won't it?"

"Probably you'll want to wear trousers with stockings and Mary Janes."

I took this last comment as an instruction, but also didn't want to go there in a skirt, which was the only other possibility.

As it was early there weren't many customers at the salon, so I'm not sure how many people realised I was male.

My hair was styled into a sort of page-boy look - somewhere between feminine and effeminate, but somehow definitely subservient.

My nails received a lot of attention and were then painted red.

My eyebrows were severely plucked and minimalist make-up applied.

As we returned home I felt quite feminine except that I was very conscious that the tightness of my girly trousers would reveal my maleness to any who looked.

And with my new haircut I was conscious of more male eyes looking in my direction. I wished now I'd had the confidence to wear a skirt.

I spent the afternoon planning the meal for Friday evening, not just the food, but how to decorate the table, etc. This was an aspect I'd never really considered before. I made my shopping list for the next day, and then prepared our supper.

When she arrived home I remembered to greet her with a curtsey, which I guess she appreciated, because while I was getting the meal ready she kept lifting my skirt to stroke my panty-clad bum. We went to bed early, me wearing my bra and nightie at her prompting, and after my throbbing cock had relieved its copious cum inside her and I'd licked it all out again (maybe this recycling was why I had so much juice in my cock to pump into her every night?) I pulled my knickers up round my tired manhood and slept like a baby.

Or should that be like a babe?

FRIDAY

Despite the way my girlie trousers revealed the outline of my maleness (as well as of my underwear), I did not have the courage to go shopping wearing a skirt. At the supermarket checkout I was relieved to see that it was the same girl who had served me before.

She smiled. "Hello again. Your hair looks nice. You have pretty nails, too."

I smiled back, but didn't know what to say.

I returned home, changed into my skirt, and prepared for the evening meal. When my wife arrived back I greeted her with a curtsey.

"How's it going?" she asked, "All under control?"

I smiled and said it would all be ready.

"And what about you," she went on. "Will you wear that skirt or your long one?" I replied that I preferred the shorter one.

"Good," she laughed, "so much more accessible. And anyway, you have nice legs. Now you need to come upstairs and get pretty."

I checked that it was OK to leave the kitchen for half an hour and followed her upstairs.

"Take your skirt and top off and have a wash and close shave," she instructed. It was strange but exhilarating to do this wearing bra, knickers, stockings and heels!

She came into the bathroom with the pack of Tampax and showed me how the applicator worked. "As it's an all girl evening, you need to wear a tampon," she explained. "Take your knickers down, put a drop of handwash on your middle finger, squat down and gently transfer the handwash from your finger to your bum hole - it will act as a lubricant. Then let your bum muscles relax so that you can insert the tampon."

"Then wash your hands again before you get dressed. And if you need to have a poo during the course of the evening, remove the tampon using the string, do your dump and then put a fresh tampon in afterwards. Now I know you probably haven't done this before, but be quick!"

She left me to it and I managed to insert the Tampax without too much delay. I was conscious of the plug in my bum, and also of the string dangling down.

I pulled up my knickers and washed my hands thoroughly.

Back in the bedroom she applied my new lipstick and a bit of other make-up, brushed my hair, spritzed me with a heady perfume and helped me into blouse and skirt. "You look and smell lovely, darling. Do you feel good?" I smiled and nodded.

In fact I did feel very good. I felt comfortable with and comforted by the feel of my bra - the cups were warm around my nipples and I was almost constantly aware of the gentle but insistent straps around my back and shoulders.

My knickers were cool and soft and silky against my skin.

I had adjusted my suspenders so that they were taut, pulling at my stocking-tops with every step.

I loved the way my stockings rubbed together and was also conscious of the bare flesh above them.

The modest heels on my shoes were enough to give my legs and bum a more feminine shape. They made me walk more daintily, and of course I was now also aware of the Tampax inside me - I realised this also affected the way I walked.

My skirt floated around my knees and brushed my legs, but I had the feeling that any sort of breeze could lift it up above my waist, revealing my underwear to the world - scary but very erotic.

When the guests arrived I was shocked (but aroused!) to find that they were the ladies who had served me with my purchases - they each asked if I was wearing them and I was able to truthfully say yes to each.

The meal went very well and I was complimented on my cooking skills.

I was a little surprised how earthy the conversation became after a little wine had been consumed, and was also not expecting the hands that fondled my bottom and groped up my skirt as I was serving the food.

But I began to notice the women more and wondered what sort of underwear they had on.

And I was jealous of their breasts. I wished I had tits of my own.

Finally, my wife said, "Well dear, that was lovely. Thank you very much. But I expect you have some clearing up to do in the kitchen?" I took the hint and stood up.

"Be a dear and give the ladies a curtsey," she said. I complied and a few repeats were requested. There was some applause and some comments.

"Nice legs!",

"Pretty pink knickers!",

"Sexy stockings!"...

As I cleared up in the kitchen I could hear them talking and laughing, but couldn't make out what was being said. I heard them getting ready to leave and went back out of the kitchen.

"Thanks, dear. A lovely evening," said one, "and see you next weekend."

After they'd gone my wife explained that we were invited over to the house of one of our guests next Saturday. "You won't have to cook, but they would like you to be a waitress!"

She took my hand and led me upstairs. "You've been so good you deserve a treat. But first you better remove your Tampax. Your first period is now over."

Back in the bedroom she gave me a marvellous blow-job. I was surprised how good she was because she'd never given me one before. After the long build-up of the day my cock was ready to explode. I lay back on the pillow.

She put her lips against mine and my cum trickled back into my mouth.

SATURDAY

When I woke up she had already gone out. There was a note to go and buy food for the weekend.

Bra, knickers, suspender-belt and stockings had been laid out for me, along with a frilly white blouse. She had left the option open concerning trousers or skirt. I shaved and showered and brushed my hair into shape, put on my underwear and stockings, then applied lipstick and a little spray of perfume.

I put on the blouse, noticing that when the buttons were fastened it fitted snugly and that my bra showed through the material.

I felt that I still did not have the courage to go out on my own in a skirt, so put on the trousers again. My Mary Janes were nowhere to be found, nor any of my male shoes, so I had to put on the heels again.

When I checked my appearance in the mirror, I realised that my hairstyle, eyebrows, lipstick and shoes looked fairly girly, but the trousers were too revealing.

Not only were the outlines of my underwear clearly outlined, but there was also a bulge at the crotch, which gave away my true gender. I changed into the skirt, feeling my pulse rate increase.

Although the hem of my pleated skirt was just long enough to cover my knees, the material of the skirt was so light and floaty that I almost felt as if it wasn't there.

I put on my pink jacket and picked up my purse. Checking that I had my keys, I stepped outside. Immediately I felt the cool air reaching up my skirt to accentuate my naked and hairless thighs.

I was suddenly very aware of my knickers and taut stockings and felt a tingle in the end of my dick.

Walking without trousers, I was only intermittently aware of my skirt and felt as if my knickers and stocking-tops were on display. I had to keep checking my reflection in shop windows to build up confidence in my appearance.

I realised that, despite my anxiety to get back to the safety of home, I needed to walk not too quickly and with dainty steps.

Also to hope that it did not get windy!

I bought what was needed and started to go back home. Although I now had more confidence wearing a skirt, I still needed to check my reflection in shop windows.

Suddenly I realised that I was looking at a display of women's underwear. And that there were some knickers that I really liked.

Almost without thinking I entered the shop.

The sales lady, who I realised was probably the proprietor, was a few years older than me. It occurred to me that she could have been my mother, or my mother-in-law. "Hello dear. What can I help you with?"

I managed to explain that I liked the look of the red knickers in the window, hoping that my voice did not sound too masculine.

"Oh yes, I know the ones you mean. What size do you need?"

Suddenly I realised that I did not know anything about the sizes of women's underwear. "Er, I'm not sure," I stammered.

She smiled and measured my waist.

Opening a drawer, she reached out a selection of red satin knickers. "Any of these will fit you, dear, "she smiled.

I picked out a pair with generous frills around the waist and leg-holes, and a dainty bow at the front of the waist.

"An excellent choice, dear. This style allows plenty of room for growth."

As her smiling eyes met mine, I realised that she knew exactly what sort of growth might occur. I paid, and as I was leaving she said, " You know, we have an embroidery service. Some of our clients like their name embroidered on their knickers. I hope you will come here again."

I smiled politely saying nothing, but I knew that I probably would return.

When I got home, my wife had still not returned. But there was plenty of housework to do. I put the washing machine on and got on with hoovering the carpets. It was quite late in the afternoon by the time I had finished the ironing. I was just putting the ironing-board away when she returned home. I helped her unload several packages from the car. She said she would have a shower and meanwhile I could prepare our meal.

The meal was nearly ready when she came into the kitchen. She wore a short wrap, and her stocking-tops were just visible; I felt a tingle in my knickers to be reminded that I was wearing stockings and suspenders too. She held up the bag containing my purchase from the ladies' underwear shop.

"I'm pleased to see that my husband is now buying his own knickers," she giggled. "I know the lady who runs this shop. She is probably used to men buying their underwear from her!"

After we had eaten we got a drink and sat in the lounge. Her hand reached up my skirt to fondle the flesh above my stocking-tops.

"You know," she began, "at the meal last night, several of the ladies said you were staring at their breasts. So we all agreed that you should have some of your own. After all, if you are going to be allowed to wear feminine clothes, you should at least appreciate what it is like to have a couple of large tits."

I realised it was pointless to quibble about the phrase "be allowed to wear feminine clothes". Although I had initially been "persuaded" into knickers and a skirt, the fact that she knew that I had now bought some knickers of my own rather undermined any possible objection on my part.

"I've got you some breast forms and a new bra. You can try them on tomorrow. Now why don't you show me what your new knickers look like? Take your skirt off so I can see properly."

I slipped out of my shoes and took off my skirt and then my knickers. Stepping into my new red knickers, I pulled them up and stepped back into my shoes.

The new knickers felt so deliciously cool and soft on my bottom that my cock started to stiffen immediately.

"Ooh, I can see you like those," she laughed. She stroked the front of my knickers until my cock was ready to burst, then took it out and made me come into what was left of my drink. She milked out the last drop and then gave me the glass.

"Drink up, dear. Swallow your sissy-juice."

A few minutes later we were in bed and I fell asleep, contentedly sucking her breast.

SUNDAY

After my shower, she told me to put on stockings and knickers and then gave me a new pair of shoes. These had two and a half inch heels and as soon as I put them on I noticed my legs felt more feminine and my bum stuck out more.

She helped me into a bra, then inserted a pair of large breast forms and spent some time adjusting the straps until she was satisfied that they were just right.

Then I had to hold the forms in place while she removed the bra and made some locating marks on my chest with an eyebrow pencil.

She wiped some cleaning spirit on my chest, then applied adhesive to the breast forms before carefully putting them into place and helping me put the new bra back on. "This is a medical adhesive and should keep them in place for at least a week," she explained.

I was surprised how heavy my new breasts were, but she knew I liked them.

The tent pole in my knickers was a bit of a giveaway.

Fortunately the weather was warm, as she made me spend the whole of the day in just my underwear, getting used to the weight on my chest and the way my boobs bounced as I walked, not to mention the sensations of walking in higher heels.

Most of the time I had at least a semi-erection, and she took every opportunity to stroke my satin-clad bottom or to fondle my cock and balls through my silky knickers.

Finally that evening she milked me into a glass again and made me swallow the salty liquid. Once again I drifted off to sleep still wearing my bra and new boobs, and sucking on her breast.

MONDAY

My wife had to go to work. She gave me a sealed envelope. "Go back to the shop where you bought your knickers and give the lady this letter. Then when she has provided what I have asked for, you must buy something that you choose."

My heart was thumping as I pushed open the door to the ladies underwear shop. I was suddenly very aware of the underwear that I was wearing myself.

The straps of my bra firmly gripped my back and shoulders while efficiently supporting my large and bouncy boobs.

I was wearing stockings that were shorter than usual, so my suspenders stretched and tugged with each step, and I was conscious of the large gap between stocking-tops and knickers.

So although I was now more confident wearing a skirt in public, the shorter stockings certainly reduced the "safety-margin" between hemline and stocking-tops.

My higher heels also changed the shape of my legs and bottom and the way the silky material of my knickers caressed my bottom was somehow more apparent than before.

The lady in the shop greeted me with a smile, "Hello, dear". I handed her the envelope from my wife and waited nervously to discover what was to come next.

"I have exactly what you require," she said as she read the letter. "It says here that as your bust is now larger than before," her eyes glanced up to take in the outline of my new large boobies, "you need to reduce your waist measurement correspondingly."

She reached into a drawer and presented me with a white waist waspie. She showed me how to fasten it at the front, and then how to pull the laces at the back to cinch my waist, then how to tie the laces in a bow behind my waist.

"You should reduce by 3 inches immediately," she explained. "When you are used to it you can reduce your waist even more." She showed me into a small changing-room and left me to try it on.

I unfastened my skirt and stepped out of it. I unclipped my suspenders and removed my garter-belt.

I pulled my knickers down a little and hitched up my blouse while I put on the waspie. I pulled the laces fairly tightly and tied them in a bow.

The waspie had 6 suspenders, so I threaded these down through the legs of my knickers before pulling my knickers back up. I refastened my stockings to the waspie suspender clips and pulled my blouse back down over the top of the waspie.

I couldn't now bend over to pick up my skirt - I had to bend my knees to reach down.

But when I tried to put my skirt back on I found that it was now too large to fit my reduced waist.

The shop lady came to see how I was getting on. "Well, your waist is definitely reduced!" she smiled. "We'll have to get you another skirt now, won't we?"

She checked my new waist measurement then went back into the shop area. She came back a few moments later and handed me a navy blue pleated skirt. "This is a wrap-around skirt," she explained. "It will fit you if you reduce even more, and it will still fit you even if you don't wear the waspie." She left me to try it on.

The skirt was easily adjusted to be a comfortable fit, and although it was a couple of inches shorter than the one I had arrived in, it was a heavier material, so didn't float around so much.

I picked up my suspender-belt and the other skirt and stepped back into the shop. I was immediately aware of the different sensation of wearing a waspie. I had to stand straighter and my bottom and bust seemed to stick out much more. The firm constraint around my waist made the silky softness of my knickers even more obvious on my bottom and balls.

"There, now dear," the lady said, "you have a really nice figure and very pretty legs.!'m sure your wife will approve. Now the letter says you will choose something for yourself, so what would you like?"

I glanced around the shop, wondering what to ask for. "Can I suggest something?" she asked. With some relief I nodded.

"How about a slip?" she asked. "I stock a style which has inch-wide shoulder straps, fits snugly at the bust, and will come to about mid-thigh. It's a popular undergarment with customers like yourself."

She looked me in the eyes and smiled. I wondered just how many male customers she had.

"Er... yes please," I managed to say.

She checked my bust measurement, then reached out a couple of slips. One was a rich burgundy colour, the other a warm pink. Both were in silky nylon. I loved both of them and couldn't decide which to choose.

"Why not take both?" smiled the lady. I nodded my agreement.

"Now you need some knickers to wear with them," she said. "If you are feeling demure and lady-like you need knickers that match the slip. Then if you accidentally show your underwear, no-one will know whether they have actually seen your knickers or not."

"And if you are feeling sexy you want some contrasting knickers so that folks will have no doubt what you are displaying!"

She smiled at me again and I felt myself blushing at the thought of deliberately flashing my knickers.

Having paid for my purchases, I left the shop with a bag containing my original pleated skirt and suspenders, the two slips with matching knickers, a pair of silky white knickers with pink ruffles at the leg-holes, and a similar pair of black knickers with white ruffles.

Also several pairs of stockings in white, black, dark tan, and nude.

Not to mention the pink and white silky nightie that just about reached down to my waist with (of course) matching knickers and which I had been unable to resist.

As I left, a man and a women were entering. I couldn't help wondering if he was going to buy underwear for her, or whether she would be choosing things for him.

I found I had to walk more slowly and daintily in my waspie. I had more time to notice other people around me. There were several ladies with slim waists and generous busts.

I wondered whether they were all real women, or whether some of them had cocks in their knickers like I did.

I also noticed that several men admired my bust and legs. Probably they were watching my bottom wobble as well!

Back home I put my new purchases away and got on with a few household chores. There was no doubt that the waspie restricted my movements, but it definitely felt as if I had a more feminine shape. As well as my slimmer waist, my bottom felt a couple of sizes larger.

When my wife arrived back home she was very appreciative. "You look very pretty, darling. You'll make a lovely waitress at the weekend."

Her hand fondled my bottom. "You look nice in a shorter skirt," she went on. "You do have rather good legs!"

After we had eaten she made me show her my new purchases. "You can wear your new nightie tonight," she smiled.

Back downstairs she poured us a couple of drinks. "Take off your skirt so I can see your new waspie," she said.

She fondled my bottom and balls and in no time I had a huge erection. "Time for your bedtime milky drink," she said, and releasing my cock from my knickers she made me cum into my whisky.

"Drink it all up, darling."

She led me upstairs. I suddenly felt very tired after the excitement of the day. She helped me undress and put on my new nightie and knickers. We got into bed.

"I know you like to suck on something for comfort," she said, "but my nipples are getting sore. So I bought you a special comforter."

She handed me a dildo. It was a realistic looking cock, firm in shape but soft to the touch. It had a shiny red end, looking just as if the foreskin had been pulled back. At the other end were smooth but realistic balls which fitted comfortably in my grasp.

My lips closed around the knob end. I could still taste whisky and cum. I drifted off to sleep, with the dreamy sensations of my heavy breasts, my silky knickers, and my lips round a cock.

TUESDAY

I woke up to the sensation of something stroking my lips. My wife was sitting on the bed, dressed and ready to go out to work. She was holding the dildo to my mouth.

"Here's your comforter, darling. You looked so sweet and girlie last night, wearing your nightie and sucking a cock." I let my lips part and she gently pushed the cock into my mouth, at first just so that the knob-end entered, but then playfully just a bit further.

"Hold the cock," she said. "Don't the balls feel lovely and smooth? No hairs at all. In the bathroom you'll find some depilatory cream. Spread it on your legs and arms, under your arms and of course on your pubic area, not forgetting the cheeks of your bottom and into the crack. Wait 10 minutes before getting into the shower to wash it all off. You'll need to repeat the treatment again before Friday - I want you really smooth by then.

When you get dressed, wear your waspie and high heels. You need to get used to wearing them so that you are feel natural in them.

And if you get tired, you can always lie down on the bed for a bit and suck your comforter."

"But if you do, take off your outer clothes so they don't get creased."

With this she left. In the bathroom I found two large tubes of depilatory cream. I spread most of one of them on my body, paying particular attention to the area between my bum-hole and my balls. I stood with my legs apart while I shaved my face, and then a few minutes longer. Although I had previously shaved much of my body hair, I was surprised to see how much more washed away.

I didn't much care for the smell of the cream as I gently patted my body dry with a towel, so when my body was dry I sprayed on some of my wife's perfume.

I dressed in my bra and waspie, tan stockings, burgundy slip with pink knickers, white blouse and my new navy pleated skirt. In the full length mirror I realised I looked a bit like a tarty schoolgirl - one of the senior girls at St Trinian's, perhaps.

I put on some lipstick, then picked up the cock dildo and watched myself in the mirror as I licked the tip before placing my lips around it. I took more and more of its length into my mouth, wondering if I could take in enough that I would leave lipstick traces on its balls.

But not today. I realised it would take practice before I could manage so much.

I did a little shopping and some housework. By the afternoon I was a little tired, so taking my wife's advice I went upstairs, took off my shoes, blouse and skirt and lay on the bed. I picked up the cock dildo and started sucking the end, one hand holding the dildo and the other stroking my own cock through my knickers.

I was co-ordinating the movements of my fingers and my lips.

Pretending that I had my own cock in my mouth.

As my cock got harder I took the dildo cock further and further into my mouth. Eventually my body jerked violently as I creamed my knickers, my cock pumping cum several times before it subsided.

It was an hour and a half later when I woke up, with my soaking knickers feeling cold on my cock and balls. I hurriedly got up to remove my sodden knickers, sponge my cock and balls, and get dressed again. This time I wore knickers that matched my slip.

On an impulse I inspected the cock dildo, but there was still no lipstick on its balls.

I just had enough time to prepare the meal by the time my wife returned home. After eating, she spent an hour or two on the computer while I washed dishes and then sat watching the TV. She came and sat beside me, bringing a couple of drinks.

"Are your legs nice and smooth?" she asked. "Slip your skirt off so I can see."

She stroked my stockinged legs and my bare, glass-smooth thighs. "Ooh, so sexy," she murmured as her fingers progressed to my soft smooth balls.

Soon my cock was as hard as my dildo comforter and she milked me into the whisky glass to prepare my bedtime "milky drink".

WEDNESDAY/THURSDAY

My wife gave me a pair of earrings (there was a craft shop in the mall that made up jewellery out of beads according to customers' requests). These were a simple arrangement of pink and purple beads. "Just to get used to the feeling of wearing dangly earrings," she explained.

It was only after returning from a shopping trip that I examined them more closely as I checked my appearance in the mirror. Each of the earrings had a single pinkish purple round bead at the top, then a longish pink cylindrical bead, then two round pink beads side by side.

It was suddenly clear that each earring represented an erect cock.

I realised that by wearing these earrings in public I was making a statement. A statement of my true gender - which is, of course, sissy.

I felt a tingling in my cock. I knew I would be wearing the earrings whenever I went out shopping.

I was having a few sessions each day now, practising with the dildo while lying on the bed in my underwear. I creamed my knickers so often that I had to wash several pairs to ensure that I wouldn't run out of clean ones.

My wife encouraged me to be more girly, and I noticed she spent now more time on her computer in the evening than she used to. But afterwards she was always very nice to me and complimented me on my pretty underwear.

And I was now accustomed to having my "milky drink" each bedtime.

I didn't yet know about the webcam she had installed on top of a wardrobe in the bedroom.

THURSDAY EVENING

My wife came home with a package. It was the waitress uniform that I was to wear the following evening. She made me try it on to check that it fitted OK.

It was a one-piece black dress; I had to step into the skirt and then put my arms into the sleeves so that she could fasten the back of the top part. (I realised that I would not be able to take it off unaided.)

There were three bows up the back of the skirt where the skirt material seemed to overlap and she explained that the top bow in particular allowed the skirt to be adjusted to give a perfect fit.

The skirt was quite short, the hemline being several inches above the knee. There was a white apron which tied around the waist and a little bob-cap to pin into my hair.

The bodice of the uniform was in a stretchy, clingy material which accentuated my large bust.

"That's fine," she announced. "I'll adjust the waist tomorrow when you wear it for real."

FRIDAY

The following morning she gave me a pair of black patent leather shoes with three inch heels. "These are waitress shoes," she said. "You'd better wear them this morning at least so as to get used to the extra height."

It was amazing what difference an extra half-inch of heel made to the shape of my legs and bum. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was very comfortable wearing them, although I did switch to the slightly lower heels after midday.

In the afternoon she had booked me an appointment at the beauty salon I had visited before. It was with the same lady who had served me on the previous occasion. She was very polite but did not make much conversation.

I realised that she might not know what to say to a sissified husband. She concentrated on styling my hair.

She did not comment on my earrings.

When my wife arrived back home she helped me into the waitress outfit. Although I was wearing the longest stockings I had, by the time she had adjusted the bows on the skirt to accentuate my reduced waist I knew that my stocking-tops would be just visible if I stood still. If I moved quickly or bent over some bare flesh or even a flash of knickers would probably be displayed.

Nevertheless she had insisted that I should wear pink knickers, not black ones.

We got into her car to drive to the dinner party. I gasped as I sat in the passenger seat - the leather felt cool on the bare flesh above my stockings, as my skirt was not long enough to cover my thighs when seated. She giggled and ran her fingers up my stockings before setting off.

"Now remember, there is nothing to worry about. You are not cooking, you just need to serve the food. You and another waitress. Once you have served us with each course, you can sit down with us and enjoy your meal as well. It's just that we ladies would like to have some waitress service."

I was kept busy as soon as we arrived, serving drinks and canapes. I and the other waitress, that is. I soon realised that I was not the only sissified husband present!

However, as we two were either serving the ladies or sitting down to eat ourselves I did not have time to study the other waitress in great detail. I was too concerned about not spilling any drinks or flashing my knickers.

By the time we had served coffees, the ladies were quite mellow and I had also had enough to drink to feel more relaxed. There was a large TV screen on the wall and our host switched it on.

When the picture appeared I was shocked to recognise our bedroom. And even more shocked to see pictures of myself in my underwear in front of the mirror or writhing on the bed, playing with my cock and at the same time sucking on a dildo cock with obvious enjoyment.

The ladies found this highly amusing and applauded when the video ended...

"Well I think it is time we thanked our waitresses," said the lady hosting the evening. We waitresses were led to the centre of the room. "We'll take your aprons off now," said my wife, fiddling at the back of my dress, while another lady did the same for the other waitress.

She apparently undid the three bows at the back of my skirt as well as the bow of the apron. When she and the other lady pulled out some ribbons, our two waitress skirts fluttered to the floor, leaving us both with nothing from the waist down to cover our underwear.

The other waitress had shapely hairless legs (as I did) with creamy white flesh between her shiny black stocking-tops and the legs of her pretty pink silky knickers.

There was a bulge in her knickers, as there was in my own. She was staring at my knickers as I was staring at hers.

I felt my cock begin to stiffen and at the same time noticed some movement in her knickers.

This was very exciting and in no time both our cocks became hugely erect, each reacting to the growth in the other's knickers.

"I think you should give each other a hug," said my wife, applying gentle but firm pressure to the back of my waist.

We held our arms open, but as our silky-covered cocks touched we both copiously creamed our knickers and had to hold onto each other for support.

One of the ladies brought in a bowl of warm soapy water and a large towel was laid on the floor. There were also flannels, towels, a little tub of rose talcum powder with a puff, and of course, fresh knickers.

I heard my wife saying, "Didi and Geraldine. Don't make a mess on the carpet. Step out of your shoes, stand on the large towel, help each other out of your cum-soaked knickers, and clean each other up."

I knelt in front of Geraldine and carefully lowered his knickers so as to avoid getting cum on his stockings. I dipped a flannel in the warm water, then wrung it out.

As I carefully wiped Geraldine's hairless balls his cock became fully erect again. I wiped the shaft of his cock with the warm flannel, then drew back his foreskin. The red end of his knob was just in front of my face, just as the end of my dildo comforter had been each night.

So it was entirely natural for me to put my lips around it to complete the cleaning operation.

Unlike my comforter, Geraldine's cock was warm and salty and seemed to grow even more in my mouth. His hands gently held my head as my lips and tongue worked on his cock and I felt my own cock stiffen.

A few moments later he came. His cock pushed insistently in my mouth a few times to milk out the last drop and I came into my own knickers, even though my cock was not fully erect.

Geraldine's cock now rapidly diminished in size. I continued to clean it with my lips until it felt even smaller than one of my wife's nipples.

I gently dried it with a towel and dusted it with talcum. I helped him into a clean pair of white silky knickers and as he pulled them up to his waist, his cock had shrunk so much that it hardly made a bulge.

In fact, the smooth outline of his knickers looked so feminine it was hard to believe that a few moments earlier his throbbing cock had been in my mouth.

Feeling somewhat weak and weary I got to my feet and Geraldine knelt before me. He carefully lowered my sodden knickers and I stepped out of them. The feel of the warm flannel caressing my balls and cock brought back my erection.

I felt a tingle of excitement as his lips closed around my cock, but I couldn't come again. My aching balls were empty.

As my erection weakened, Geraldine wiped my cock again with the warm flannel, then gently towelled it dry before applying talcum and helping me into clean knickers matching his own.

Geraldine looked up at me and smiled. His blue eyes sparkled and his make-up still looked perfect. I admired his shapely bust and his stockinged legs. His bare thighs looked creamy-coloured, framed between his dark stocking-tops and his white knickers. I felt like a teenager again, as if I were in love for the first time.

I helped Geraldine to stand and we stepped off the large towel and back into our shoes. As a couple of the ladies cleared away the bowls and towels and soiled knickers, my wife said, "It's too complicated to put all those ribbons back in your skirts, so you'll just have to wear your aprons."

She fastened our aprons with neat bows. From the front we looked quite respectable, but of course the view from behind was quite different. Geraldine smiled at me over her shoulder as I admired her silky panty-covered bottom and stocking-tops.

"Right, sissies," said my wife. "Time to kiss goodbye and make our way home."

I gave Geraldine a little hug and felt a thrill of excitement as our lips touched briefly and our panty bulges pressed together.

I couldn't resist fondling his pantied bottom and he giggled.

I was in a state of euphoria as my wife drove home.

But this was replaced by a feeling of trepidation as I realised that I would have to walk from the car to our front door with my knickers and stocking-tops on full display from behind.

Although it was dark and there was no-one out on the street, there was a streetlight near the house and any of our neighbours might be watching.

My wife, who had the house keys, didn't seem in any hurry to follow me and open the front door.

Once we had gone inside she said, "Well, Didi, you and Geraldine seemed to get on well together. I expect you'll be seeing more of each other from now on."

"But right now, it's what's inside MY knickers that needs your attention. So pour me a drink and bring it upstairs."

THE END