Feminized by His Mother-in-Law

Chapter One: "Helping Out" —o— "Take a deep breath and then let it out slowly," said Emily.

Her husband Henry glanced doubtfully at her over his shoulder, but then placed his hands against the kitchen counter. He took the deep breath and slowly let it out. As the air slipped from his lungs, Emily pulled the corset as tightly as she could around his torso. It was still an inch from closing. At least, she could begin tugging on the laces now though.

"Why do I need to wear this thing again?" gasped Henry as she tugged.

"Stop talking! You're taking in air."

"I need air."

"Well, I need you to be smaller so I can close this."

Henry glared suspiciously over his shoulder once more. "Why do I need to wear this anyways? Can't you just estimate the size?" he asked. That was why they were in the kitchen. Henry was helping his wife resize a dress - a costume actually - that no longer fit now that her pregnancy was beginning to show. He wasn't pleased about any of this though.

"If I could just estimate it, then I wouldn't need you," said Emily.

"And this is supposed to—?"

"The corset will give you the same dimensions as me, the new me, the pregnant me."

This thought actually made Henry uneasy that he might be made to be the same size as his pregnant wife. He was small for a man and that already made him insecure. He didn't want to know that he and his wife were one corset away from being the same size.

"All right," he grumbled.

"Let's get this done, so we can get this over with. There's a game on television I want to watch."

"Yes, you've told me," said Emily with a laugh.

"You're lucky I agreed to help."

"Oh, I know, Henry. Your offer to help is amazingly gracious," said Emily with a sarcastic snicker. "You do realize you're the reason I need to fix this dress, don't you?"

"How so?" "Think about it, Henry. You're the one who got me pregnant.

Remember?"

Henry blushed. "Well, yes, there is that."

"Now hold still," she said and she hiked up her loose white summer dress above her knee, placing her knee against his tailbone, balancing her other foot carefully in its tall tan wedge-heeled sandal, and she pulled the laces on the corset with all her might. The last inch of Henry's exposed skin vanished and she tied off the laces. Henry was in the corset.

"Wow, that's tight!"

"You'll live," she said and she patted him on the rear, causing his butt cheek to jiggle and his penis to stir; he was naked except for the corset. She then took a tape measure and checked his measurements in the corset.

"Perfect! Now have a seat, honey."

Henry moved to the kitchen chair Emily had placed in the center of the room and turned to drop his rear onto the seat. In so doing, he found that the corset restricted his back and made his movements stiff and awkward. It was odd to think that a piece of leather tied around his torso could do that, but it was true: he found it harder to turn or twist or bend his body.

He sat down.

Emily grabbed a pair of shoes from the pile of clothing on the kitchen table. These were white high-heeled pumps with pointed toes. They had four-inch stiletto heels and double ankle straps with tiny golden buckles. They were very feminine and Henry eyed them suspiciously.

"What are those?" he asked.

"Shoes."

"That's debatable. What are you doing with them?"

She crouched down before him with the shoe and took his foot in her hand. As she did, he noticed for the second time this morning a slight awkwardness in her motions. Up to this weekend, she hadn't shown any changes in the way she moved because of her pregnancy. Now that she was beginning to show, however, he had begun to see very slight changes. She held one of the white pumps up to his foot.

"What are you doing?" he repeated.

She slipped the pump onto his toes and started to work it onto his foot. "I'm putting these on your feet."

"You what?!" he gasped and he yanked his foot away.

"Hold still," she said and she grabbed his foot again.

"Those are high heels! I didn't agree to wear those!" Again, he pulled his foot away.

"Relax, Henry. It's part of the fitting."

"That's nonsense. How do shoes affect the fitting? It's a dress. It doesn't even go near the feet."

She grabbed his foot once more. "They affect how the length of the dress shows and how it will appear on your body because they affect the posture. Trust me, darling, women wear the heels they expect to wear with a dress when they get fitted for that dress because it matters."

"I'm not a woman," protested Henry.

"I should hope not... but you're taking the place of one today."

Henry blushed. "I shouldn't have agreed to this."

"But you did, because you're a fabulous husband. Now be a dear and hold still." She tugged his foot into place and held it fast. She again moved the pump to his foot and slipped it over his toes.

"Maybe we should have this done by a professional. Then you can wear the dress for the fitting," suggested Henry. There was nervousness in his voice. Wearing women's clothing clearly bothered him, as it did most males.

"Be a man, Henry," said his wife as she jammed the shoe onto his foot. It made an audible "pop" sound as it slipped over his heel.

"I don't—"

"Henry."

"Fine," said Henry, swallowing his anxiety, "but be quick about it."

He glanced down at the offending high-heeled shoe and felt a cold chill wash over him. He wasn't sure why this was exactly, but the shoe threatened his masculinity. It made him feel vulnerable.

"Don't worry, honey," said Emily as she buckled the double ankle straps. "I don't want my husband in a dress either. I'll be as quick as I can be and then we can get you out of these feminine things and you can go back to pounding your chest and scratching yourself." She laughed.

Henry didn't.

"That's sexist," he grumbled.

Emily jammed the other shoe onto his other foot. She then used Henry's outstretched hand to pull herself back to her feet. She too was noticing the changes in her body from the pregnancy.

"All right. Stand up," she said.

Henry glanced at the symbols of femininity on his feet and he shuddered. This was embarrassing. It was weird too. He'd worn any number of different types of shoes throughout his life from sneakers to boots to dress shoes to slippers, but none ever felt like this before. These kept his feet at a strange angle. They pressed his toes downward. They didn't seem all that stable either. He wiggled his right foot on the heel as if to prove the point to himself.

"Stand up?"

"Yup."

He took a deep breath. "Here goes," he said.

"That's the spirit."

Henry leaned forward and thrust himself upwards. It was a bumpy ride. As he rose he found his ankles buckling, his knees shaking, and it felt like his toes were being crushed. When he reached his full height, he found to his chagrin that it was rather difficult to balance as he wobbled tremendously and his ankles kept wanting to buckle. He rested his hand on his wife's shoulder for balance.

"How do women wear these things?" he exclaimed.

"With practice."

"How much practice?" he asked. His whole body shook.

"Sometimes years."

Henry shot his wife a stunned look. "I don't have years." "You won't be doing much in them either. You're just standing in them. You'll be fine."

Henry tried to fold his arms to give a skeptical appearance, but almost lost his balance. To prevent falling, he grabbed his wife's shoulder again. "I don't think this is going to work," he said.

"You'll be fine."

He shook his head. "I can't do it." Emily furrowed her brow. "Henry. Teenage girls the planet over figure out how to walk in heels. Are you going to tell me that every teenage girl in the world can do something you can't?"

Her words struck Henry's ego. "Well, no."

"Then stop complaining. Besides, you'll be out of the shoes in no time."

"But these things are impossible."

A condescending look appeared on his wife's face, which made him feel small suddenly. "They're not impossible. I wear them all the time, even now," she said and she pointed to the very tall tan wedges on her feet. "You just need a little practice to get used to them. Try walking back and forth a bit so you can learn how to balance. That should help."

Having been put in his place, Henry nodded his head and reluctantly started off across the kitchen. The sound of his heels echoed against the tile floor with each step: CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! That sound actually made his all the more difficult, as it was embarrassing. That was a distinctly feminine sound coming from his steps. The idea made him shudder. "Pay attention, honey," said Emily.

Henry snapped out of his embarrassed thoughts. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Heel down first," said Emily.

"What do you mean?"

"When you walk in heels, bring your heel down first against the ground. Then let your toes follow it to the ground," she said and she demonstrated with her own shoe. "Don't lead with your toes. Don't bring them down together. It's just like normal walking, only you need to make sure the whole foot is firmly planted before you lift your other foot."

"All right," said Henry doubtfully. He took another step. This time, he made a conscious effort to bring his heel down first and then his toes followed. To his surprise, this made things easier and he noticed that his pace picked up slightly and his balance improved. He was still rather awkward and unsure, but he had improved.

"That's better," said his wife.

"This is a lot more stable."

"Good," said Emily and she came over and placed her hands on his hips. "Keep your hips straight. Move in a straight line. When you go, place one foot in front of the other as if you were walking on a beam." She then squeezed his naked butt cheek, which caused his penis to grow erect.

"Follow your dick," she said and she slapped his butt cheek.

Henry took several steps, doing exactly what she said. This further improved his walk. He started again. CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Again, he improved. He was quickly becoming reasonably competent. At least, he wasn't going to fall on his face.

"Much better! We'll have you walking like an expert soon," said his wife.

Henry blushed. The idea of walking like an expert in heels embarrassed him. That wasn't exactly something most men aspired to. "Can we get on with it, please? I'd like to get out of these shoes." Emily laughed at his insecurity. "You men and your fragile manhoods. You'd think masculinity was a delicate flower any woman could crush under her heel with the tiniest effort."

Henry blushed even more.

"All right. Come here," said his wife and she held out her hand.

Henry took it. She then helped him climb up onto the chair, using her hand to steady him, which definitely wasn't easy in the tall, thin, sharp heels. When he was up and stable, she smiled at his erection, which jutted out before him. "Well, this is nice," she said and she took his erection in her hand and gently stroked it.

Henry moaned as waves of pleasure coursed throughout his body.

"I take it you like that?" she asked with a snicker.

"Oh yeah."

"Is this a good reward for having to wear a corset and heels?"

Henry felt a little funny about that, but nodded his head in agreement nevertheless. "Uh huh."

"So every time you wear a corset and heels, you want me to do this?" Henry snickered. "I'd rather not wear either again."

"But you look so cute, honey," she chuckled. She then stroked him a little faster and a little harder. She felt his penis throb beneath her hand.

"Oh, it likes it when I do this."

"Yes, it does. I like it too," he replied.

He was breathing a little harder now.

Emily knew her husband well, and she recognized that he was getting close to an orgasm. She didn't want that. She would reward him, but she didn't want to reward him too soon. After all, there was still more to go. So she stroked him a little faster, a little firmer, causing Henry to feel more waves of pleasure tingling through his body, but then she slowed. "Sadly, we need to finish this first or I'll never get it done," she said.

"Oh sad."

She let go of his erection. "To be continued, honey."

Henry sighed, but was happy with the promise to finish later.

In the meantime, Emily grabbed the fussy black dress that lay over the back of another kitchen chair. This was the dress that needed tailoring to fit her expanding pregnancy. It was part of a sexy maid costume she intended to wear to the office costume party in a few weeks and it had become just a little too tight around her belly. The dress was made of satin and had a wide, stiff skirt.

"It's a good thing you lost some weight this year," said Emily as she picked up the dress. Her husband had made a conscious effort the prior year to be more healthy and had lost around thirty pounds. "If you hadn't, you never could have helped me with this."

"Good thing," said Henry sarcastically.

Emily unzipped the dress and instructed her husband to hold out his arms. He did and she slipped it over his arms and then over his head, letting it slide down his body a moment later; she needed to stand on tiptoe, even in the tall heels to do this. When it slid down his body, it bunched up around his stomach.

"And that's the problem area," she said.

"My stomach?"

"My stomach. Your stomach is the same size as mine in the corset.

Think of it as a stand in. Now hold still," she said.

Henry waited patiently as his wife grabbed a seam ripper and slowly opened the left side of the dress below the armpit. Then she opened the seam on the right side as well. This allowed the dress to slide past his stomach and continue on its journey the rest of the way down his torso. "Much better."

Henry looked down and saw the dress apparently sitting perfectly on his body. There was something odd about wearing women's clothes he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it made him uncomfortable. It also made him tingle in a strange way, which added to his discomfort.

"You know, I've been thinking," he said as he glanced nervously at the dress.

"About what?"

"Isn't this dress a little sexy?"

"Of course, it is," said Emily and she pinched one of the seams closed and started sticking pins in the material to hold it in place. "That's the point. It's a sexy costume."

"I mean, isn't it a little sexy for you to be wearing?" he corrected himself.

Emily snickered. "For me? Why?"

He blushed. "I don't know."

"It never bothered you before."

"Yes, but you'd never worn it outside the house before. You only wore it when we played, uh, house."

She shrugged her shoulders and kept inserting pins. "It covers everything."

"But now that you're pregnant—"

"Oh no!" she protested with a laugh. "We're not playing that game.

Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I'm an invalid or that I need to hide myself away in a convent until I give birth. I can still wear tight dresses and high heels, just the way you like me, and I can wear sexy costumes." "But out of the house?"

She grabbed his erection through the dress and pulled it tightly toward her. "Henry, don't make me rip this off. I'm not going to hide myself beneath burlap and blankets just because it makes you nervous that I'm pregnant. A lot of men have this problem. Deal with it."

Henry didn't know what to say, so he remained silent.

Emily let go of his erection and she changed sides. She then grabbed the seam on this side and started pinning it up as well. Then she checked the length and the chest. Sadly, she didn't need to let the chest out yet. She was looking forward to the new hormones flooding her body doing that, however. Pregnancy also apparently brought lush hair; she was looking forward to that too. For now though, this was all she needed to change. She finished pinning the dress.

"All right. Done," she said and she slapped him on the rear. "You really should see yourself!"

"I'll pass."

She laughed. "No, really, you should. You'd be amazed at how feminine you look between the corset giving you an hourglass shape and the heels giving you feminine calves."

"I'll be happy just to get out of the dress."

"Don't be such a baby," she said and she held out her hand to help him off the chair. Henry hesitated, but then went to take it. Only, she snapped it away before he could take it. "You are going to look, right?"

"Oh come on—"

"Henry."

Henry looked into his wife's eyes. He saw determination. When she wanted something, she got it, especially now that she was pregnant. There was no point in resisting her. Clearly, she wanted him to see her handiwork, and there was going to be no peace if he didn't do what she wanted. He decided to save himself the trouble and he reluctantly agreed. She then helped him step safely off the chair to the floor without falling in the heels.

"Good girl," she said jokingly. "Go take a quick look and then come back so we can get you out the dress again. I wouldn't want you wearing it too long and deciding you like it."

"Ha ha," replied Henry and he slowly tottered his way toward the door.

Click! Click! Click! Click! His heels echoed femininely once more. His wife watched him go. There was something... funny(?) about watching him totter off in heels. Or was it something else? She couldn't quite say. Either way, it gave her a kick. Then she remembered something. She had a wig in her sewing kit which would perfect the illusion. "Oh wait," exclaimed Emily and she grabbed the wig. She dropped it on his head with a laugh. "You'll look better in this!" The wig was a black "Rachel" wig which brought several bangs of dark black hair before his face.

"Why am I wearing this?" he asked sourly.

"Because you look cuter in it."

"I don't want to look 'cute'," he said.

"Just go already!" Again, she smacked his rear.

Henry shook his head unhappily and continued his march toward the mirror in the bathroom off the front hallway; that was the closest. As he went, Emily marveled at how feminine his shape was, especially from the rear, and how surprisingly well he did in the heels for this being his first time in high heels and with them being so tall and thin. He was almost believable as a woman... almost, and she wondered what he would look like with full makeup and stockings and all the rest. Interestingly, her nipples popped up at this thought.

"Strange," she said dismissively with a laugh beneath her breath.

"What do you think?" she called out.

Her husband laughed. "Interesting," he called back.

Dinnnggggg Donnnggggg!

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Emily snapped to attention. "Who can that be?" She left the kitchen and came to the front door with a deliberate, swift stride; her heels made quite the racket as she marched down the hallway. As she reached the front door, she saw Henry standing half in and half out of the bathroom.

"Was that the doorbell?" he asked.

She nodded her head. "Yes. Duck into the bathroom and close the door so they can't see you. I'll get rid of them," she said. Henry retreated into the bathroom as ordered.

Emily now turned her attention to the front door.

Dinnnggggg Donnnggggg!

The doorbell rang again. Emily grabbed the knob and turned it. She pulled the door open. Standing on the other side was a woman in a starched white shirt dress with a white patent leather belt and a flowing skirt and leopard print high-heeled pumps. She was smiling from ear to ear. "Mother!" gasped Emily.

Chapter Two: "Why Are You Here?!" —o— All the color fled Emily's face. She looked shocked. Why was her mother here? She couldn't just have been in the neighborhood; she didn't even live in this state! And why was she here now? This was terrible timing! "Mother! What are you doing here?!" she gasped.

Emily's mother Hazel smiled politely at her eldest daughter. "That's a fine greeting for your mother."

"I— I'm— I'm sorry, mom. I— you— you just surprised me."

"Pleasantly, I hope."

"Of course," said Emily, recovering her composure. She stepped forward and hugged her mother warmly. She could smell her mother's familiar perfume. "What are you doing here though?"

"I'm here to help with the baby."

Emily looked confused. After all, the baby wasn't due for months. "We discussed this, darling. Two weeks ago," said Hazel.

Emily now recalled the conversation... sort of. Her mother had volunteered to come help, claiming that Henry would be useless around the house. Emily had protested that this was not true, but her mother, who could be rather pig-headed, would hear nothing of it and she declared that she was coming. Still, Emily seemed to recall that nothing had been finalized.

"But we hadn't agreed on anything yet," said Emily.

"A mere formality, darling," said her mother.

Emily bit her tongue. Her mother had always had a rather domineering personality and arriving without warning was just like her. It was one of the many things that annoyed Emily with her mother, who seemed to assume that everyone else should arrange their lives around her whims. Emily started to open her mouth to tell her mother this when she saw Henry, out of the corner of her eye, stick his head out of the bathroom door.

"Oh no!" gasped Emily beneath her breath.

The problem she faced suddenly struck her like a wrecking ball slamming against the walls of her emotional strength. Her husband was dressed as woman, from head to toe, in the bathroom off this hallway... a woman. There was only one way out of that bathroom too, and that involved walking down this open hallway past the living room, the kitchen and the bedrooms. There was no cover. If her mother was anywhere in the house other than her own bedroom with the door shut, Henry would need to walk past her... dressed as a woman... to get to their bedroom. How was she going to get her husband back to the bedroom where he could change without her mother seeing him? It was impossible!

Emily vigorously waved him back into the bathroom with her hand behind her back. Fortunately, he saw her signal and obeyed. Letting her mother see him dressed as he was would be a nightmare.

"So, uh, how long are you staying, mom?" asked Emily cautiously. "Probably until you have the baby. Do you mind if I come in, darling?"

Emily realized her mother still stood on the porch. She would need to let her in. That idea made her stomach tighten, however. Once in, her mother would want to sit and talk all day. There was no way Henry could stay in the bathroom until her mother went to bed this evening. Maybe, thought Emily, she could get her out of the house for some reason.

"Do you have any suitcases or anything outside?" she asked hopefully.

"No, this is it," said her mother, ruining Emily's hope. She pointed to the suitcase standing next to her. "Speaking of suitcases, where is Henry? He can take this to my room."

"Uh, he's not here at the moment."

Hazel glanced at the suitcase. "Never there when you need him, is he?"

"Say, um, mom, wanna go out for lunch?" asked Emily.

"Oh Heavens no," said Hazel with a laugh. "Right now, I'd just like to sit in the kitchen with you and talk. I haven't seen you in six months or so. We have so much to catch up over."

"That sounds great, mom. Maybe you want to take a shower and refresh first?"

"No, no. I just want to sit and chat with you, darling. That's why I'm here: to be with you! I haven't seen you in so long." As she said this, she hugged her daughter once again. Emily bit her lip and went weak in her mother's arms. This was trouble. Her mother had never really liked Henry - she'd never liked any of her boyfriends. Of this, Emily was sure. That is to say, it wasn't that she disliked him per se, she just seemed to have no respect for him. She seemed to think that Henry wasn't alpha male enough for her. Of course, an alpha male wasn't what Emily wanted either. Either way though, if her mother caught Henry in a dress and high heels for any reason, that would cement her opinion of him forever and she would never let Emily hear the end of it. Hence, Emily couldn't let her see Henry under any circumstances. But how was she going to prevent that?

"The first step," she thought, "is to get mom away from this hallway before she decides to use the bathroom. Then I need to warn Henry." She smiled at her mother and said, "It's so good to see you. I'm so glad you're here. Why don't we go to the kitchen and I'll make us something to eat?" Hazel smiled back at her daughter. "That would be nice."

Both ladies moved to the kitchen, leaving the suitcase in the hallway. Their high heels echoed off the hardwood floor, announcing their retreat. The kitchen stood off the main hallway next to the living room. It had no door, though there was a partial wall blocking the view of most of the hallway. Emily decided she needed to position her mother with her back to the hallway.

"Have a seat, mom," said Emily, and she pointed to the seat that would leave her mother with her back to the kitchen entrance. She then moved to the refrigerator and grabbed two bottles of water as her mother sat down.

Her mother sat down where indicated. So far, so good.

"How was the flight?" asked Emily.

Hazel took a bottle. "It was nice."

"I'm glad." Emily started to sit down, but then stopped. She cocked her head to one side. "Could you excuse me for a moment? I think I heard something at the front door. It could be a package. I'll be right back."

"Of course, darling." Walking as casually as she could make herself, Emily left the kitchen and returned to the front hall, where she tiptoed to the bathroom and stuck her head inside. Henry stood in the cramped bathroom with his arms folded tightly, looking nervous. He was holding the wig.

"What is she doing here?!" he whispered aggressively.

"She's here to help with the baby."

"The baby's not even here yet!"

"I know," said Emily unhappily. "I didn't even know she was coming."

"When is she leaving?"

"I don't know, but not today."

"Not today?! I can't hide in here forever." Henry glanced around nervously as he tried to think of some way out of this mess. "Can you go get me some regular clothes?"

Emily nodded her head. "Yes, but it could take time. I need to find a time I can slip away from her and get your things without her noticing that I'm doing it or that I'm bringing them back here, or she'll want to know what I'm doing and she might even follow me here."

"How long do you think that will take?"

"I don't know. She's pretty anxious to talk right now. It could be ten minutes. It could be an hour. It could be two or three hours."

"Two or three hours?! I can't do that! I can't wait here for two or three hours hoping she doesn't decide to use the bathroom in the meantime and stumble upon me. Seriously, what if she walks in and finds me?" asked Henry. He started slipping on the wig.

"What are you doing?" asked Emily suspiciously.

"I'm making sure I look all right." "For what?" "I'm going to sneak back to the bedroom," he said in a very determined voice. "No, you're not!" "Yes, I am," he insisted. "Henry, you can't!" "I don't have any choice." "Henry!" "Trust me. It will be all right," said Henry. "Go back and distract her. Make her some tea or something... keep her busy. I'm going to sneak past the kitchen to the bedroom." "It's too risky." "Too risky is just waiting here for her to discover me—"

"Honey, are you all right?" called Emily's mother from the kitchen.

Emily glanced over her shoulder and then locked her eyes on her husband's eyes intensely. "I need to go back now. Stay here!" she whispered firmly and she jabbed her finger into her husband's chest for emphasis. "Don't do anything stupid! Let me solve this!"

Without waiting for a response, she closed the door and returned to her mother in the kitchen. Her mother was standing again, waiting for her return. This made Emily nervous. She didn't want her mother facing the hallway and she didn't want her moving about. She could be halfway to the bathroom before Emily even knew where she was going.

"Was it a package?" asked her mother.

"Package? Oh... no, it was nothing. Just a false alarm," said

Emily. "Can I get you a sandwich or something?"

"No, no, darling. I'm here to help you, remember? I'll make us some lunch so you can stay off your feet. Have a seat," said Hazel and she motioned to the seat she had been sitting in. This was not what Emily wanted!

"It's ok, mom. I'm not an invalid."

"No, I insist."

Emily bit her tongue. She couldn't very well refuse, but this would leave her mother free to roam the kitchen and facing the hallway when she sat down. If Henry tried to sneak past right now, she would spot him before he got ten paces. She reluctantly sat down though.

"What would you like?" asked Hazel.

"Maybe a peanut butter sandwich."

"Two peanut butter sandwiches coming up." Hazel got to work.

She moved around the kitchen smoothly and efficiently, even in her starched shirt-dress and her tall high-heeled leopard print pumps, but then, that was what she always wore. As she worked, she began talking about people they knew and recent events at home. At one point, she reminisced about when Emily was a child and how she used to cut the crust off the bread for her. For her part, Emily watched nervously. She worried that Henry would try something stupid. She needed to think of some way to get him out of that bathroom. But how? Then she had an idea. When her mother finished assembling the sandwiches, she could tell her mother that they should go to the guest room and unpack together. This would give Henry time to sneak past to the bedroom. The only question was: how could she coordinate this with Henry?

"I guess I could fake another package and go tell him," she thought. Then she heard it: the sound of high heels quietly trying to sneak past the kitchen.

Click! Click! Click!

Both Emily and her mother turned their heads at the exact same time. There was Henry in the dress and wig and heels standing near the entrance to the kitchen looking like a trapped animal. This was trouble. Chapter Three: "Caught As The Maid" —o— Emily's jaw dropped. This was a disaster! How could Henry be so stupid?! How could he try to sneak past the kitchen with her mother there?! Why hadn't he listened to her?! Why hadn't he waited?! She spun around to face her mother, hoping to somehow explain this away... somehow. Only, when she spun to face her mother, her mother wasn't there anymore. She had shot past Emily and was fast approaching Henry.

"I can explain!" blurted out Emily guiltily.

Her mother didn't hear her though. Her mother had walked right up to the stunned and frightened Henry. She was looking him up and down with a thoroughly amused grin on her face.

"Why hello," she said. "Who are you?"

Henry stared at her in horrified silence. He had no idea what to say. Emily raced over to her mother, about to repeat her line about being able to explain this, even though she had no clue how she would explain it, when her brain suddenly caught on to the fact her mother hadn't called out Henry's name. Was it possible her mother hadn't spotted this as Henry? Did she really think this was a young woman? That didn't seem at all possible, but maybe she had! Emily desperately latched onto this possibility.

"Mom, this is— this is Miranda!" exclaimed Emily.

"Miranda?" repeated her mother with a hint of doubt or some other questioning tone. She then looked Henry up and down from the tall white heels to the fussy maid costume dress to the black hair on his head. "Why is she dressed like that?"

Emily licked her lips nervously. This was going to end poorly, she could tell - in fact, she was already trying to figure out how to explain lying to her mother when the truth comes out - but she had no choice but to continue down this path she had chosen. This was the lie she picked and she was committed. This was her only shot to avoid her mother's permanent scorn.

"That's her, uh, uniform. She's uh— she's our maid."

"Your maid? Your maid sneaks into your house?" asked Hazel doubtfully.

"She's a, uh, live-in maid. Isn't that right, Miranda?"

Henry was still too terrified to speak, so he nodded his head to agree with whatever his wife said.

"Oh, is she?" said Hazel. "I didn't know you and Henry had hired a maid, much less a live-in maid."

"Yeah, uh, we just hired her," said Emily. "Because of the baby."

"That's a good choice as Henry is, no doubt, useless around the house."

Normally, Henry and Emily both would have pushed back against this statement, but Henry was too stunned to say a word and Emily knew she was dancing on thin ice and didn't want to make it thinner. It was hard enough right now trying to convince her mother that her feminized husband was someone other than her husband; she didn't need to get into a fight over the merits of her husband. Besides, it's not like they could change her mother's opinion.

"I take it, this Miranda is well trained?" Hazel announced this more than said it, and while it took the form of a question, it wasn't a question so much as a requirement declared to the room.

"Uh, yeah. She's been very helpful," said Emily with a growing sense of helplessness. She felt like a dinghy caught in the wake of her mother, the unflappable battleship.

"I should go—" started Henry, hoping to get permission to leave.

His voice squeaked, giving it a more feminine tone. Emily breathed a sigh of relief when this happened, though she worried whether it would continue.

"Why are you wearing such high heels?" asked Hazel.

"Heels?" peeped Henry.

"On your feet."

Everyone looked down at the tall stiletto heels on Henry's feet. Outside of Hollywood, it seemed unlikely that real maids ever wore heels like this as they were anything but practical. Yet, he was wearing them. Henry had to think fast.

"They're part of the uniform," he replied. His tone was anything but convinced, however. To the contrary, he sounded as if he was asking his mother-in-law to verify that this was the right answer.

Emily knew she needed to step in. "We like our maid to look good," she added unconvincingly. She was starting to feel a sense of panic rising within her. She knew this charade couldn't last much longer. She was running out of answers and those she had only seemed to add to her mother's doubt.

"How nice," said her mother coldly.

Everything went silent.

Emily knew she needed to do something to change the current dynamic before they made a mistake and gave the truth away or before her mother just figured it out. She needed to seize the initiative to get Henry out of the room and regroup. So she rushed past her mother and put her arm around her husband's shoulders.

"Let me take Miranda to her room, mom. I'll be right back," she said.

Her mother smirked. "By all means."

Emily and Henry then raced down the hall as fast as Henry could go on the tall, skinny heels until they reached their bedroom. Hazel watched them disappear down the hallway and into the master bedroom. Choosing the master bedroom was just one more mistake on their parts in what had been a terrible performance. Hazel shook her head. "Henry... a live-in-maid indeed!" —o— A moment later, in Emily and Henry's bedroom, Emily was in full panic mode. "What were you thinking?!" she demanded of her husband as she paced nervously back and forth. "You know there's no way to sneak past the kitchen without everyone in the kitchen seeing you, not with the open floor plan!"

"I had to do something before she found me—"

"She wasn't going to find you! I had her attention in the kitchen and I was going to take her to the bedroom in a few minutes. You could have snuck by then. Hell, you could have danced by while blowing a trumpet! Why didn't you wait?!" she exclaimed rhetorically. "And what were you thinking wearing those heels?! Why didn't you take them off and go barefoot?"

"I thought it would look suspicious if she caught me sneaking around without any shoes on," said Henry defensively.

"Your heels are the reason she caught you!"

"How was I supposed to know?" demanded Henry.

"You've never heard high heels before? You don't know how loud and attractive they are?"

"Of course I have, but I didn't know they would be that loud."

Henry exhaled his frustration. "At least she didn't know who I was. I have no idea how she didn't recognize me, but she didn't. That's something, I guess. We got lucky."

"I'd call it a miracle," said Emily.

"Either way, it turned out well. She has no idea it was me. So help me get out of this dress," he said and he turned his back to his wife so she could work the zipper on the dress. Emily didn't move.

"Come on," demanded Henry. "I need to get out of this dress before she sees me in it."

Emily shook her head. "What about Miranda?" asked Emily, who grasped the situation better than her husband did apparently.

"What about Miranda?"

"Hasn't it hit you yet?" asked Emily with a sour laugh.

"Hasn't what hit me?"

"Because of you, my mother thinks we have a live-in maid named 'Miranda'. She's going to expect this maid to be here and do her job as a maid. In fact, she thinks she's down this hallway right now getting ready to work, and she isn't going to understand how a maid can just disappear into thin air."

"So?"

"So, you need to keep on pretending to be her."

A look of horror appeared on Henry's face. He shook his head vigorously. "No way! There's no way!"

Emily nodded her head. "There's no other way."

Henry swallowed hard and involuntarily backed away from his wife. This idea was the worst idea he'd ever heard in his life. She really wanted him to pretend to be some woman named "Miranda"? And a maid to boot? "Honey, think this through," he said cautiously. "If I try to pretend to be this maid, your mother is going to catch me. Then we're in even bigger trouble."

"That might be, but at least we have a chance that way."

"What do you mean?"

Emily looked her husband up and down. "Your body is feminine; you have the right curves. You're getting better in the heels. The wig is fine. If I add some makeup, maybe some glasses, she'll never recognize you, especially as you've lost all that weight this past year. Just try to give your voice that same squeak you had when you first started speaking."

Henry shook his head again. "This is crazy. Why risk it?"

"Because the alternative is that she knows something is wrong. The alternative is that she sees a maid who bares a striking resemblance to you come into our house. She hears me tell her that this is our live-in maid. Then the maid vanishes like the Twilight Zone took her, and you suddenly appear instead. My mother would need to be stupid not to figure that one out. At least if we go with this charade, then maybe she won't figure it out. Maybe she'll keep thinking you're the maid!"

Like it or not, Henry realized his wife was right; he still didn't like the idea though. "Ok, that's probably true," he said, "but that doesn't make it a good idea to tempt fate and have me pretend to be the maid."

"It makes a lot more sense for you to pretend and we hope she never catches on than it does to have the maid vanish and my mother know what we did."

Henry felt sick. "I don't think I can do this."

"You can. You have to."

"Let me put it this way: I don't think I want to do this."

Emily folded her arms angrily. "You should have thought about that before you decided to make your idiotic mad dash from the bathroom. You caused this Henry, and the only way to get out of it is to continue with this stupid masquerade—"

"Can't we just tell her it was a joke or something?"

Emily glared at her husband. "You know my mother." "Yes." "And you know what she thinks of you." Henry blushed. He did indeed, and he did not like it. He reluctantly nodded his head.

"I am not, under any circumstances, going to tell my mother that my husband was wearing a dress and high heels for any reason... least of all 'a joke.' Do you understand me? Do you understand how she would react?

I'm not going to face my mother's scorn just because you panicked." Henry bit his lips. He had nothing to say.

"We have one choice, Henry. You are going to pretend to be Miranda the maid," she said, harshly emphasizing the word "you" in her statement, "and you are going to give it your all to sell this!"

"For how long?"

"Until we can think of a reason for Miranda to leave and not come back." "How are we going to explain my absence?"

Emily took a deep breath and considered this for several seconds.

"You're a school teacher and you have summers off. I'm going to tell her you decided to earn some extra money this summer before the baby gets here by taking a summer teaching job at a boarding school upstate. That will explain why you're not here and it will let us bring you back once Miranda quits her job."

"What do I say happened then?"

Emily glared at her husband; she was under a lot of stress. "We'll think that up when the time comes. Now sit down at the vanity so I can throw some makeup on you."

Henry saw his wife's eye twitch and decided to sit. —o— As Emily did her husband's makeup in an effort to hide his identity better, Hazel picked up her phone and called her friend Eva, who lived in a neighborhood nearby where Hazel lived before retiring down south. "Eva, hi. It's Hazel. I have a question for you," said Hazel.

"Does your friend still own that shop?"

"You mean, Mandy? Yes, she does."

"I may need to place a special order with her."

There was a suspicious silence on the other end of the line before Eva spoke again. "You need to place an order? You? From Mandy's store? You know it's a shop for—"

"Yes, yes, I know."

"What's, uh, going on, Hazel?" asked Eva curiously. "It's the strangest thing," replied Hazel. "I've just caught my sonin- law in a dress. A maid dress actually. Like a uniform, only sexier. He was even wearing stilettos."

Hazel could almost hear Eva's eyebrows shooting up through the phone. "Does your daughter know?"

"Yes. She seems to be involved too."

"Wow!" "Can you imagine? And they thought they could fool me! I'm almost insulted, and that's why I think teaching them a lesson might be a moral imperative. Turn the tables as it were."

"What are you going to do?" asked Eva nervously. She knew Hazel and she knew Hazel tended to get carried away and do things she shouldn't, especially when she declared them "a moral imperative." "Well," said Hazel, "it strikes me this might just be an excellent opportunity to have some fun with Henry and my daughter."

"Fun? What kind of fun?"

"You know Henry; he's such a stick in the mud. Wouldn't it just be fitting if Henry found himself stuck as the maid?"

"How are you going to do that?"

"Well, clearly, they don't want me knowing what they were doing, so I'm going to help them keep that secret, and all the while they'll be stuck with poor Henry all dolled up. In fact, I may take over his training."

"Training?"

"Oh of course, darling. He's useless around the house. He doesn't know a thing about domestic chores and he doesn't want to. This is despite the fact he has the entire summer off, being a teacher, and you would think he would handle those duties. But he doesn't. He leaves those for my daughter. This seems like the perfect chance to make him start carrying his weight... and have my fun in the process."

"You're going to train him to do chores?" Eva clearly didn't like this idea.

"Why not? Obviously, my daughter thinks the same thing I'm thinking," said Hazel.

"How do you get that?" asked Eva doubtfully.

"Why else would she have her husband in a dress? It's obvious. She must be the one who put him in that dress, so she's training him to do domestic duty herself, and the dress is there as a sort of uniform to keep him in the right mindset... to remind him of his place."

"That's a lot of assumptions—"

"Why else would she let him wear a dress... a maid dress? She's making him. That's why. She would never want to be married to a sissy," said Hazel confidently. "She's training him and she just didn't expect me to arrive when I did and catch them in the act. But I did, so now I know about it, and knowing about it, I'm going to help her out."

"I thought you were going to have fun with him?"

"I can do both, darling."

"How are you going to do that?" asked Eva cautiously.

"They don't know I know, so I'm free to treat him like a real maid. I can teach him... train him, for real. I'm going to give him a crash course in being a maid. By the time I'm done, he'll be the most tip-top maid in the whole country, and my daughter will be grateful to finally have a useful husband."

"What if he doesn't want this?"

"Then he shouldn't have agreed to be my daughter's maid and they shouldn't have tried to fool me. And if he doesn't like it, I'm sure he'll say something about it," said Hazel. "He's a big boy."

"And what if your daughter doesn't want this?"

"Then she shouldn't have put him in that dress in the first place.

Besides, it's not like I will keep him in dresses. This is only for the summer. Think of it as summer school for the teacher."

"You're serious, aren't you?" asked Eva.

Hazel chuckled. "Of course, darling."

"Hazel! You can't do this!"

"Why not? They tried to fool me. I am only turning the tables on them and catching them in their little lie. And honestly, Eva, I don't know why this upsets you. If Henry doesn't want it, I'm sure he'll stop me. But in the meantime, he can learn how to be a good maid so he can finally take care of the house properly. Men are much more useful and agreeable after a little training. It's a win-win. You know my daughter's pregnant, right? He needs to help out more, particularly now."

There was more silence before Eva spoke. "This is a huge mistake, Hazel. Please don't do this."

"Don't worry, darling. I know what I'm doing."

"Hazel," said Eva firmly. "This is a mistake." "Pshaw, darling. Pshaw."

Chapter Four: "Man of the House To Maid"

Henry pensively stepped into the kitchen. He still wore the black maid costume dress and the wig, but had swapped the heels for flat white sandals. He was actually surprised he had found the courage to come back to face his mother-in-law at all, but his wife had left him no choice. That didn't make this any easier though. He really couldn't believe he was doing this. How was his mother-in-law not going to notice that he was the maid?

Wouldn't it have been wiser to claim that this had been a joke or that they were preparing for a costume party? It seemed that way, but his wife wasn't willing to go that route.

"She'd have to be blind not to notice," he told himself nervously. Still, here he was.

His wife sat at the table holding a cup of coffee she couldn't bring herself to drink. Her hands were shaking. She was waiting for her mother to finally catch on. Her mother stood near the sink. So far at least, she didn't seem to recognize Henry, not as far as Henry and Emily knew.

"W— what should I do first?" asked Henry. His voice trembled. His mother-in-law immediately shook her head disdainfully. "How long have you been a maid, dear?"

Henry bit his lip. He had no idea. "Um, a couple months, I guess." "A couple months? Did you have any formal training?"

Henry again had no idea what the right answer was. He decided it was best not to pretend he knew what he was doing. "N— no."

"I thought as much. Well, we need to start at the beginning then."

Hazel marched over to Henry as Emily watched helplessly; this was all beyond her ability to control. "For starters," said his mother-in-law in her normal authoritative voice, "when you address your employer, you must do so with respect. You don't sneak into rooms unannounced and you don't just whisper a question like that. 'What do you want me to do?'" She whispered this last question in a comical, insulting voice.

"I— I wasn't sure," said Henry nervously.

"Clearly, you weren't. Apparently, you have no idea what your duties are. But never fear, my dear, I'll train you." She brushed back a lock of hair from Henry's wig which hung before his eyes, eyes she could not help but recognize as Henry's. It was so obvious. "Let's begin again, shall we?

When you address your employer, you must call them 'Sir' or 'Ma'am.' Do you understand?"

Henry nodded his head. He wasn't going to disagree.

"Always give a verbal response to a question. Never just shake or nod your head."

Henry swallowed hard. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Better. Now when you walked into the room, what should you have said?"

Henry glanced at his wife for help, but she seemed as lost as he was. He realized right away that meant he was on his own. "Uh, should I say, 'What do I do now, Ma'am?'"

"Correct, only you should know your duties. Your employer should not need to tell you what to do every second of every day. A proper maid does not need micromanaging. Do you understand?"

Henry blushed. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Speaking of walking into rooms, where are your shoes?"

Hazel pointed to the flat sandals Henry wore as she asked this question. This caused everyone to look at his feet. These sandals were white with few straps and only a minor heel less than half an inch in height. Emily had let him switch to these shoes because she figured they would be more comfortable for the work she expected her mother would assign him, he would be less likely to fall, and they would interfere with his duties less than the heels would have. Henry had agreed with this and now looked confused at his mother-in-law's question.

"I don't understand?" he said cautiously.

"Where are your heels?" asked Hazel sharply.

"Oh, I said he— she could change," said Emily, catching her mistake quickly but not before she spoke.

"Why?" asked her mother.

'Why?"

"Why did you let her change out of the heels?"

Emily shrugged her shoulders. The answer seemed kind of obvious to her. "Miranda said they were uncomfortable and I agreed. Doing housework in heels is hard. So I said she could wear flats instead." Hazel shook her head. "No, no, no. This is part of the problem."

"Problem?" repeated Emily uncertainly.

"Yes, look around at how dirty the house is. Look around at how confused poor Miranda is about her duties. Look at how Miranda felt a need to sneak into the house where she lives! These are all part of the same problem. When I asked about her shoes earlier, you said that was part of the uniform. Just because she doesn't like it, doesn't mean you should change.

If you want high heels to be part of the uniform, then that is how it should be."

"But her comfort—" protested Emily.

Her mother cut her off. "It's all part of the job, darling. The uniform requires heels, so she wears heels. When you start making concessions like this, you start making concessions everywhere and soon you end up with a dirty house," said Hazel in her most authoritative tone.

"But mother—"

"No darling," said Hazel dismissively and she waved away her daughter's concerns with the back of her hand as she turned to Henry.

"Please go put your heels back on."

Henry looked to his wife for help. She cast her eyes to the ground. "Yes, Ma'am," he said.

He sighed and retreated down the hallway.

"Miranda seems to be a good person, but has a long way to go to become a worthwhile maid," said Hazel to her daughter.

"We've tried to be more casual."

"I'm sure, but that needs to end. She has taken advantage of your good nature, even if unknowingly. Well, no matter, darling. I'll take charge from here on out. Don't worry. By the time you have the baby, everything will be perfect and everyone will be happy."

"Except for my husband," said Emily beneath her breath. "What's that, darling?"

"Nothing, mom." Emily stood up and excused herself ostensibly to go to the bathroom. She then raced down the hallway to catch her husband. By the time she reached the bedroom, Henry had slipped out of the flat sandals and was holding the white heels again.

"I hate these shoes," he said.

"I'm sorry, darling."

"They're impossible to walk in. They're painful." He blushed. "And frankly, they're a little embarrassing." As he said this, thoughts of himself tottering around dressed as woman as his feet made that feminine clicking sound caused his penis to stir beneath his skirt, which added to his embarrassment. Thank God, he thought, that his wife couldn't see it growing. He really didn't want her knowing that any of this excited him, something he didn't even want to admit to himself.

"I know, honey," said Emily sympathetically.

Henry sighed at the high-heeled shoe in his hand and the fact he had no choice but to wear it. Then he looked up into his wife's eyes. "She's impossible; you know that, don't you?"

Emily tried to smile, but couldn't. "I do... but we need to humor her for the moment."

"For how long?"

Emily shrugged her shoulders. "Until we can think of a good reason for Miranda to leave, a reason that won't seem suspicious to my mother. We can't give her any reason to start thinking about who or what Miranda might really have been."

"And you're not worried that she's going to spot me?"

"Well, I'm worried, but she hasn't so far."

"Yeah, I guess that's something."

Henry slipped the high-heeled shoe back on his foot. It immediately forced his foot into that strange uncomfortable angle again that squished his toes and caused his arches to burn so badly as he waited in the bathroom earlier. He recalled the feminine clicking sound the shoe had made too. That made him shudder, though not necessarily in a bad way.

"Don't worry, darling," said his wife, trying to comfort him. "My mother may push a bit at first, but she'll soften up."

Henry looked doubtfully at his wife. "Have you ever known her to 'soften up' before?"

Emily bit her tongue. She hadn't. Her mother was like a tank,

relentless, untiring and unstoppable. When she began one of her crusades, it never ended... never. And right now, it seemed likely she was determined to put "Miranda" through her paces. Emily thought it best not to admit that, however.

"Sometimes," she lied.

"Well, let's hope this is one of those times," said Henry sourly as he buckled the high-heeled shoe's double ankle straps. "But even if she does, I'm still stuck acting like a maid. Do you know how humiliating that's going to be to do all the cleaning around here?"

This comment struck Emily wrong. "Let's not oversell this." "Oh, there's no overselling this. Floors, laundry, cleaning up. Humiliating!"

Emily folded her arms and ran her tongue over her teeth. She tapped her foot against the floor angrily. "You know, I do all of that all the time, right? Are you saying it's humiliating for me to do those things? Should I feel humiliated, Henry?"

Henry realized his mistake... sort of. "Well, I mean— that's different for you."

Emily narrowed her eyes. "How is it different for me?" "You know... you're a woman."

Emily felt a burning sensation in her chest. It was best described as rage and she was not the least bit happy. "So it's ok that I 'humiliate' myself because I'm a woman?"

Henry now saw his full mistake. "That's not what I meant." "Oh, then what did you mean?"

Henry bit his tongue. He had no idea how to get out of this. "Sorry." "You know," she said sharply, "if you hadn't tried to sneak past my mother when I told you to wait and that I would take care of it, you wouldn't need to do all that— that woman's work."

Henry shrank before his wife. "That's really not what I meant."

"It better not be." "It's not." "Put on your other shoe, Miranda," said his wife coldly. —o— Emily returned to the kitchen before Henry did. She was still a little angry, but did her best to get over it. She took her seat and started her conversation with her mother again, trying to seem casual. She didn't want her mother thinking she had had any contact with "Miranda." A minute or so later, Henry came tottering down the hall in his tall heels: CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! To Emily, he looked ridiculous and she almost laughed at the sight of him, but she knew she needed to maintain the illusion to keep her mother from realizing the truth. He did make an awful woman though, at least in terms of his motions. His shape actually wasn't horrible, thanks to the corset.

"Oh good, you're back," said Hazel.

"Uh, yes Ma'am," replied Henry cautiously.

Hazel grabbed a broom from the small closet off the kitchen and handed it to Henry. "Why don't you start by sweeping the floor in here and out in the hallway? After that, you can mop. Then we'll look at some other duties."

Henry glared at the broom unhappily. This was not how he had planned to spend his Sunday afternoon. To the contrary, there was a game on he wanted to watch and he had a book he wanted to read. He would be doing none of that now, apparently. Unfortunately, he had no choice in the matter, so he reluctantly took the broom and he started.

Hazel leaned against the counter and watched as Henry took several swipes at the floor with the broom. He was achieving nothing but making a mess. Henry felt her disapproving eyes scouring his back. Emily likewise could feel her mother's disapproval; it took the form of thick, stormy anticipation hanging in the air like a black cloud.

"Have a seat, mom," said Emily anxiously as her mother watch her feminized husband.

"In a moment, darling." Henry took a few more jabs at the floor, pushing more dirt around randomly.

"You need to take longer strokes," said Hazel finally. Henry stopped and turned to face her. "What?"

"Sweep up the dirt, don't jab at it," she said, mimicking several strokes with the broom. "Also, don't bring the broom up so high on the stroke. You're putting a lot of dust into the air."

Henry glanced at his wife for support. She shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

"Go on," said his mother-in-law.

Henry sighed. "Yes, Ma'am," he said, and he did as his mother-inlaw wanted. Annoyingly, she was right. Changing strokes was more work, but it produced better results. He didn't like it when she was proven right. "Good. Now do the kitchen and then the hallway," said his motherin- law.

"Yes, Ma'am."

As Henry worked on the kitchen and slowly drifted toward the hallway, Hazel grabbed her purse and then returned to the kitchen table with Emily. She pulled out a journal.

"What are you doing, mom?" asked Emily.

"I'm going to write out a schedule for Miranda."

"A schedule?"

"Yes, a schedule of work. It's clear that she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing, so I'm going to spell that out in detail." As she spoke, Hazel opened the journal and started writing.

Emily glanced at her husband, who had not heard this exchange. He wasn't going to like this, she thought. That said, she told herself, if she was being completely honest, Henry did tend to get rather lazy during the summers when school was out. Maybe a week or two of doing housework would do him some good; it certainly wouldn't hurt him. "And it will be nice to have a clean house," she thought.

She watched her husband work.

Then a wistful thought struck her: "There is something oddly sexy about seeing a woman in a short dress and high heels sweeping... even if that woman is my husband." This made her giggle.

Henry disappeared with his broom down the hallway.

"Here's what I'm thinking," said Hazel and she flipped her notes around for Emily to see. She had Henry sweeping and mopping the tile and wood floors each day in the mornings. He would vacuum the carpets next. He would sweep one more time at night before he was allowed to end his duties at six o'clock. He would dust each day as well. He would do the dishes after each meal. On Mondays and Fridays, he would do laundry, including ironing. This made Emily smile as she liked having her clothes ironed. On Tuesdays and Sundays, he would change the sheets. Bathrooms would be done Wednesdays and Saturdays. In between, she included a list of odds and ends such as organizing the pantry and polishing Emily's shoes. This idea of her husband, in the sexy maid dress, surrounded by her shoe collection, polishing them all seemed almost kinky to her. There was something sexually intense about it which made her tingle unexpectedly.

"I might want to be home to see that one," she thought.

"That will be her schedule," announced Hazel.

Emily snapped back to the moment. "That's a lot of work, isn't it?" said Emily. "Doesn't that seem like too much?"

Hazel shook her head. "Of course not, darling."

"But it is a lot mom."

"It only looks like a lot of work because it's not being done now. Miranda can handle it. Trust me."

"But she's not used to doing all that work either."

"Once she gets into a habit of doing this, it will be quite simple to maintain. Besides, this is what you pay her to do," said Hazel dismissively.

"This is a standard schedule for any maid." End. Of. Argument. said Hazel's tone.

Emily wasn't sure what else to say. If Henry had been a real maid, then her mother was probably right. But Henry wasn't really a maid. But then, Emily couldn't tell her that either. So she wasn't sure how to push back against her mother. Not that it mattered anyways. Her mother always got her way and her tone had made it clear her mother was no longer open to discussing the matter further.

"Beside, honestly, this might be good for Henry," thought Emily. "It will keep him from getting lazy."

As she thought this, she again saw him kneeling on the floor polishing her shoes as she and her mother stood over him... like, well, masters of some sort. She shook her head, clearing this from her mind, but her opinion didn't change. Henry, she decided, would just need to put up with this.

Chapter Five: "What A Day!" —o— Later that night, Henry and Emily were in their bedroom changing. Henry's "Miranda" duties were done for the day. Dinner had been eaten and the dishes put away. The house was spotless... and Henry was exhausted. He sat on the edge of the bed carefully pulling the highheeled pumps from his feet. All he wanted to do was get into his pajamas, slip into bed, and forget this embarrassing day.

"My feet are killing me," he said.

There was an audible "pop" as he pulled the high-heeled shoe from his foot. His foot was damp with sweat and the shoe was still warm. He tossed it to the floor next to the bed.

"If I never see these shoes again, I will be a happy man." Emily twisted her lips. "Well, unfortunately, you need to wear them again tomorrow."

Henry's shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry, honey. Mom expects you in uniform and that includes the heels."

Henry squeezed his toes and groaned. "You know, I'm thinking we need to just tell her who I am."

Emily shook her head. "Forget it. Maybe we could have initially, but there's no way now—"

"Could have initially?" repeated Henry unhappily under his breath.

"— Do you know what my mother would say if she found out that you had spent the whole day dressed as a maid, letting her order you around? 'He must be a sissy, there's no other way.' And then she'd come after me for knowing about it and encouraging it. 'How can you be married to a sissy?'" she said, mimicking her mother's most authoritarian tone. "We would never have another moment's rest from her for as long as we're married."

Henry sighed. He knew this to be true. His mother-in-law was relentless when she thought she was in the right. There would be endless comments and bickering. She would never miss an opportunity to mention it or tell everyone else... at every dinner party, every family get-together, every holiday:

You should have seen it when—

He wore a dress and heels, the whole thing!—

He must be a sissy, why else would he do that?—

He looked like he was enjoying it to me!—

What kind of man wears a dress in front of his mother-in-law?!—

I'm not sure what he was thinking, but I know he liked it!— Henry shuddered. He didn't want to face that either. Not to mention, there was something in her eyes that just shook him whenever she gave him that look. It was like being stripped naked and exposed to the world when it happened. He hated it. And the last thing he wanted was for that to become her natural glare every time she saw him. So no, while he wanted this to end very badly, he knew that telling her the truth was out of the question.

"Fine, I'll wear the heels and I'll keep playing the maid, but she better start showing me some respect," he said.

"Hopefully, she'll be better tomorrow," agreed his wife. "Seriously, is this how people treat maids?"

Emily shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I've never had one." At the same time though, she thought that while her mother had been "aggressive" with him, to put it kindly, all of her criticisms and demands were justified. Everything she made him do improved the way he worked, and when she pushed it, it was because he was being lazy. So in fairness to her mother, Henry was partially to blame. And again, if she was being completely honest, she thought this was all a good set of lessons for Henry to learn as a husband.

Henry pulled the other shoe off with another audible "pop" and tossed it next to the first. Again, he rubbed his sore toes. "You know, she was giving me crap all day about how I worked," he said.

"Yes, I know." Emily bit her tongue. She wasn't too sympathetic on this point.

"The thing is, I don't think I would have minded so much if I didn't have to wear these clothes. I mean, yeah, it was hard work and I didn't really enjoy it, but the clothes made it worse. The heels made my feet sore and were hard to balance in; it was annoying to keep needing to worry about my balance and that amplified the amount of effort this took. The dress, well, it's oddly restrictive, especially with the corset beneath. That stupid dress kept getting in the way and didn't let me bend over like I normally do. Do you know how hard it is to pick things up when you have to squat rather than just bending over and grabbing them?" "Welcome to the world of heels and skirts," said Emily.

"You can have it!" He yawned. "I can't wait to crawl into bed and sleep. Can't we just stay in here for the rest of the night?"

This comment raised a point in Emily's mind. "Speaking of that, I guess there is more bad news."

"What?"

"You can't sleep here tonight," she said bluntly.

Henry furrowed his brow. "What? Why not?"

"Because you're the maid now, not my husband. You're supposed to be Miranda. It's suspicious enough that you're in here right now. There's no way you can sleep in here too. You'll need to move your maid things to the small bedroom and sleep there until my mother leaves."

"My 'maid things'? What are those?"

"Your clothes, I guess." Emily moved to her panty drawer and pulled out some panties, bras and stockings. She piled those onto the bed. Then she went to the closet and pulled out a couple of old dresses and added those to the pile before grabbing some shoes. She tossed a tattered robe onto the pile and then collected some makeup and an old hairbrush. "Take these to your room and spread them out. Make it look like you live there." Henry glanced at the rag tag collection of clothes and shook his head. "This will never fool her."

"It will have to."

"All right," said Henry doubtfully. He flipped through the items in the pile. "What should I wear for this evening?"

"It doesn't matter. We're just watching television. I'll be wearing a robe and slippers. Mom, probably the same. Just grab something from the pile. I can go after work tomorrow and get you a couple of items for evenings."

Henry shuddered at the idea that this ruse was now leading to them buying him women's clothes. That struck him as a very bad sign. Was there an end in sight or not, he wondered with worry?

—o— Henry snuck the pile of clothes and makeup to his new room and spread them out as recommended. He hung the dresses in the closet, placed the underwear in the dresser and set the brush and makeup on top of the dresser. He was not happy about being moved to this small room away from his things. He was even less happy about needing to put on another dress and go sit with his mother-in-law for the evening. He had no choice though, so he picked out a well-worn pink housedress and the white flat sandals to wear for the evening.

"I can't believe I'm going to lounge around my own house in a dress!" he grumbled.

He then slipped into the dress, stepped into the sandals, and adjusted his wig. When he was ready, he went to the living room to watch television with his wife and mother-in-law, who glanced critically at him as he entered the room. He tried to ignore her obvious displeasure over whatever it was, and he plopped himself down in his favorite recliner. It was a long night.

Chapter Six: "Mano a Mother-in-Law" —o— The morning came. It was Monday. Henry had slept in the small bedroom on the uncomfortable tiny twin bed without his normal blanket or pillow. He had had nightmares too, though he couldn't really remember them. He just recalled waking up in a cold sweat several times panicked that he was in public wearing items of women's clothing. Each time, he shot out of bed determined to strip off the item and hide himself, only to discover that it was dark outside and he was alone in bed. It had been a difficult night. Henry slipped the beat up old robe over his shoulders and snuck to the master bedroom. His wife was getting ready for work. She wore black lingerie, a neutral girdle, sharp black pumps, tan stockings, and gold earrings. She was sliding a tight black dress down her body as he snuck in. She looked sexy; she always looked sexy. The bump from her pregnancy was just starting to show through her tight dress.

"Good morning, honey," said Emily. Henry nodded to her. His eyes were bloodshot.

"I take it you didn't sleep well."

Henry nodded his head. Then he plopped down on the bed. "Please tell me you aren't leaving me here alone with her today," said Henry. Emily kissed her husband on the forehead. "I'm sorry, darling. I don't have any choice."

"I know. I was just hoping."

She smiled kindly. "I'm sure it won't be so bad today." "Why is that?" asked Henry. "For one thing, I'm sure my mother got most of her bossiness out of her yesterday. As long as you do the work the way she taught you, I'm sure she'll basically leave you alone today."

"That would help," he said. "What else?"

Emily blushed. "Well, that was it. But I'm sure she'll change."

Henry sighed. He wasn't so sure. In the time he'd known Hazel, she hadn't changed one inch in any direction. Either way, he hunted around the bed for the white high-heeled pumps he had worn with his uniform the day before. He found them and sat down to slip into them. He stared at them unhappily and visibly winced.

"Torture devices!" he growled. This made Emily snicker. "What?" asked Henry. "You," she said. "What about me?" "Honestly, honey. Look at my feet. I'm wearing heels. High heels.

I wear them all them the time. I wear them because they're fashionable and because you like me in them. I don't complain, and I'm pregnant!" Henry furrowed his brow. "They're uncomfortable."

"That's the price all women pay for beauty. Did you not realize that? Did you think all the mentions of sore feet and how hard heels are to wear were just for fun? Women go through a lot to look good. Just be glad it's only heels. Just be glad my mother hasn't insisted on pantyhose or something like that."

"You mean like a corset?" asked Henry pointedly.

Emily recalled that it took the corset to fit her husband into the maid dress. She didn't see that as anything special, however. At least, it wasn't as horrible as he was making it out to be.

"Yes, a corset," she said unsympathetically. "It's the same thing with cleaning. You're acting like it's the end of the world, but it's just housecleaning. I do it all the time. Being a woman is difficult, as you're learning. It's thankless and difficult. And you're getting a taste of that now. So maybe, after this, you'll have a little more respect for what I go through for you." Henry said nothing. He didn't know what to say. She had a point, but then she wasn't the one being ordered about by her mother. And she wasn't the one doing all the chores in heels. She may wear heels a lot, but she never did chores in them. There was nothing he could say though, so he focused on getting dressed, and within a few minutes, he stood before the mirror in the black maid costume-dress, the white spike heels and the wig. His wife had done his makeup as well. He was as ready for the day as he was going to be.

"How do I look?" he asked.

Emily smirked. "Like a maid." She kissed him and then left the bedroom. Much to Henry's unhappiness, he had an erection. —o— Henry and his mother-in-law stood on the front stoop watching Emily drive off to work. Both waved. Henry wore the maid dress and the white high heels which made up his uniform. He stood well hidden behind his mother-in-law to minimize the chance of being seen. His motherin- law wore a red shirtdress and white snakeskin pumps, open-toed of course. She seemed to have an endless supply of shirtdresses and animal print heels.

When Emily's car disappeared around the corner, Hazel turned to her son-in-law. There was a smile on her face. She was enjoying this game immensely and she had tremendous plan for her unsuspecting son-in-law. "Time to get to work, Miranda," she said.

"Yes, Ma'am," replied Henry pensively. He really wanted this charade to end. Not only was it not pleasant being the maid - the work was never ending and difficult, and doing it in the dress and heels was extra hard - but he was still nervous that his mother-in-law would spot his real identity at some point. How she hadn't up to now, he did not understand, but he knew it was coming and, when it came, it was going to be awful. They returned inside.

"Today, we start with the floors and then move on to the bathrooms. Before we start with the regular schedule, however, I think we need to have a little lesson in deportment," said Hazel.

Henry stopped cold. "Deportment?"

"Yes."

"Isn't that where you teach little girls to walk with books on their heads and things like that?" asked Henry, who wasn't at all sure what to make of this; he had not expected it.

"And some older girls," said Hazel.

"But I'm not a girl... I'm a woman."

His mother-in-law ignored him and pointed to a high-backed chair she had moved into the middle of the living room when Emily went to her car. "Have a seat, Miranda."

Henry glanced nervously at the chair. "This is part of my maid duties?" he asked.

"It is part of your training, yes."

"Deportment?"

"Sit down, darling," said Hazel firmly.

Henry thought about refusing. Something about this struck him as requiring caution; it felt like a trap. But he knew he couldn't refuse. He needed to play the part of the obedient maid and keep his mother-in-law from recognizing him until they could figure out a way to get rid of "Miranda." So he swallowed hard, and he sat down. When he did, he spread his legs wide, wrapped one foot around each leg of the chair from the outside in, and bounced his knees nervously, causing his dress to bounce between his thighs. "As I suspected," said Hazel accusingly.

"What?"

"I watched you yesterday," said Hazel, "particularly last night. The more I watched, the more I saw the need for this training."

"What need?" asked Henry uncertainly.

Hazel waved her hand toward his crotch. "This! As I watched you, I saw you walking oddly in ways which will eventually guarantee that you'll fall on your face in your heels and hurt yourself. I saw you sit down gracelessly too, in ways that exposed your panties, as you are doing now. Do you want men on a public bus to look up your skirt? Or at a restaurant?" All of that sounded horrible!

Henry looked down at his crotch and saw his skirt stretched tightly between his widely-spread legs. It stood open from the front and there was no doubt that someone at the right angle could look right up it. He suddenly felt embarrassed and pushed it down against the seat with his hand. He also felt his penis grow hard and poke up against the skirt, forming a small, but visible bump. He dropped his other hand over the bump to cover it and blushed even redder.

"I saw you stand and carry yourself most inelegantly too, and bending down was, shall we say, a minor disaster," continued his mother-in-law. Henry was very concerned now. He didn't want any of that! What if he hadn't worn the panties? His mother-in-law might have spotted his erection as they watched television! And even putting that aside, what if people could look up his panties or see his crotch when he bent over, like when he picked up the newspaper in the driveway! The humiliation would kill him! None of this was good if he needed to continue being Miranda!

"What do I do?" he asked nervously.

Hazel smiled at his acquiescence. Manipulating Henry was almost too easy for her. "Fortunately, I'm here to help. We're going to start by teaching you to move like a young lady so you won't expose or endanger yourself. We can't have you falling and injuring yourself or flashing your panties, after all. Today's lesson will be how to sit, stand, walk and carry yourself properly as a lady. After that, we'll see what your needs are." Henry bit his lip. He felt conflicted. On the one hand, this didn't seem to be something an employer would teach a maid. On that basis, he realized he should probably object. On the other hand, what she had shown him worried him. He didn't want to expose himself, least of all to her! What's more, he was definitely sick of struggling with his balance. He didn't want to learn to sit and walk like a lady necessarily, but in this instance, it kind of made sense. Truthfully, such a lesson could even be considered urgent.

He would do it. He would agree.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Hazel grinned triumphantly. Her daughter had apparently failed to instill any of this in him, but now she could do what her daughter had not. "You're welcome, Emily," thought Hazel with a proud chuckle. —o— Emily sat down at the tiny table in the coffee shop. She set her coffee on the table before her. Her friend Karen was already there. She sipped her coffee and watched Emily's thin smile fade.

"I know that look," said Karen.

"Look? What look?"

"What happened? Is Henry being a jerk? Your boss? Did you just realize how much it costs to raise a child?" asked Karen.

"None of the above."

"What then?"

"My mother," said Emily.

"Ouch."

"You don't know the half of it." Emily grabbed her coffee and sipped it anxiously, thinking about her husband swishing around in the maid dress. "My mother showed up yesterday, unannounced."

"Unannounced?! Doesn't she live in—"

"Yep, and she came all the way to see me. She's staying until the baby is born. She wants to help me," said Emily. Karen winced. She had heard all the stories of how domineering Emily's mother could be. Being pregnant was hard enough. Putting up with her mother while she was pregnant was going to be difficult. "How's Henry taking it?" asked Karen.

A wry smile appeared upon Emily's lips. "He's not thrilled." —o— "It's important that you learn to sit properly," said Hazel. "Try again."

Henry bit his tongue. This was embarrassing. Who doesn't know how to sit? Apparently, him. Admittedly though, this was strange. He was used to just dropping himself into chairs. Now he couldn't though, because of his skirts. So he took a deep breath and tried again just as his mother-inlaw told him. He brought his legs together. He slowly started to lower himself into the seat. He smoothed out his skirt beneath him on the way down. Then his rear hit the seat. Finally, he tossed one leg over the other, crossing his legs.

"Much better!" said his mother-in-law. "Now tuck your legs beneath you."

Henry uncrossed his legs, placed his ankles together and slipped them down beneath the chair together to one side, just as she had shown him earlier. As she predicted, his panties remained hidden.

"Excellent! This will prevent your skirt from spreading and people won't be able to look up your skirt and see your panties," said Hazel. Henry made a note of this.

Hazel then made Henry demonstrate what he had learned several times more until she was sure he had gotten it. "From now on, when you sit, this is how you will do it. If you fail, I will give you a warning the first time. After that, I will remind you in a more aggressive manner."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "How is that?"

"It's the same method my college sorority used when I was younger." She left Henry to guess what that might be. His mind immediately reached for a dinosaur joke, seeing young women in bloomers tying each other to the backs of giant dinosaurs, but he thought better of saying it. Not only did he not need the trouble, he didn't want to risk whatever the punishment happened to be. Besides, he kind of realized, he needed to learn this if he was going to stay dressed like this for any length of time - a prospect he dreaded.

"Now let's learn to walk," said Hazel.

Henry rose to his feet as Hazel had showed him by bringing his feet down before him to steady himself, spreading them slightly to form a stronger base while keeping his knees together, and then rising on his heels. This definitely improved his balance.

"When you walk in heels, the key is confidence," said mother-in-law in her "teacher" voice, a bellowing almost-condescending voice.

"Confidence? I thought it was balance," snickered Henry.

Hazel shot him a murderous look. "Pay attention, my dear."

Henry felt a cold chill run down his spine. His mother-in-law could definitely be formidable when she wanted to be, and she made it clear this was no cause of levity. "Sorry, Ma'am."

"Now watch me."

His mother-in-law stuck her nose up into the air and strutted across the room on her leopard-print pumps. She walked smoothly, cleanly and confidently. She did not shake or wobble. Her ankles did not buckle. She never looked like she was going to stumble or fall. If anything, she walked with an authoritative gait which Henry found intimidating.

"Confidence is everything," asserted Hazel.

Henry blushed at his own unexpectedly submissive feelings. "I see that."

"Now do as I did," said Hazel.

Henry nodded his head and tried to repeat what she did. She stopped him immediately after a few steps.

"No, no, no! That's not correct."

"What did I do wrong?" asked Henry sheepishly.

"You're doing it all wrong." She stormed back over to him. "Look at my feet and follow my example," she said. She then took a step forward, planting her heel and bringing her toes down after it. "Heel first. You're trying to bring both your heels and your toes down together flat. That makes you slow and awkward. It makes you walk like you're trying not to step on something. You need to go heel first. Walk with confidence."

Henry knew she was right. He was afraid he lacked balance, so he tried to bring his feet down all at once to make sure they were safely on the ground before he did anything else. But that made his balance issues worse. He would need to have more faith in his stride.

"All right. Try again," said his mother-in-law.

This time, he did as she told him. He told himself to trust his stride and he just went: heel-toe, heel-toe, heel-toe. It worked. He noticed that he instantly moved faster and easier too.

"Now let your hips swing naturally," said his mother-in-law.

He did this too, and his walk became much more feminine. It felt funny because feminine wasn't natural to him, but it seemed to work. "It's working!" he exclaimed.

Hazel smiled. She was seeing the future, she told herself. In a few weeks, this would all be second nature to him. Sometime after that, her mess of a son-in-law would become a perfectly trained, sweet, feminine daughterin- law, and everyone would be happy. She made a few more quick tweaks to his posture and then told Henry it was time to start his duties. She needed to run a couple errands.

"While I'm gone, you need to practice walking in the heels and sitting and standing. Don't take them off either as I expect you to be improved by the time I get back."

"How long will you be?" asked Henry.

Hazel smiled. "We'll see," she said to keep him guessing. After all, she didn't want to make it easy for him to cheat and remove the heels while she was gone. She wanted Henry to be Miranda as much as possible from now on.

Chapter Seven: "Am I Enjoying This?" —o— It was one of those moments where Henry lost himself in the moment. He had been put into such a good mood by the fact he wasn't stumbling in the heels anymore that, with his mother-in-law's absence, he had gotten a little carried away and was, shall we say, hamming it up a bit... showing off, as it were. It helped too that he had been under such intense pressure for over twenty-four hours now but suddenly he found himself with a moment of relief having been left alone. Together, all of this gave him a kind of giddy feeling, the kind that often causes people to act strangely as a form of defiance against the pressure they had been facing.

"Take that!" he seemed to say as he strutted around the house in the high heels, swinging his hips in an exaggerated motion: CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! His arms were flapping about and his right wrist hung limp as he saw women do in the movies and he kept saying, "Yes, Ma'am" in a rather sarcastic manner. This made him giggle. It seemed to have made him hard too as his penis was erect beneath his maid dress.

"Will you look at that?" he said and he shook his hips, causing his erection to swing back and forth. Then he reached under his dress and stroked it a couple times. That felt really good. Not only did it always feel good to stroke himself, but it further reduced his stress. It felt so good, he began to consider full-on masturbating before his mother-in-law got home. At the moment though, he was just enjoying... well... acting like a girl (sarcastically, of course!). He wasn't sure why he was enjoying this, but he was. Although, he would die before ever admitting that to anyone. Rinnnngggggg! The phone rang.

Henry tottered over to it with a cartoonishly-female motion, swinging his hips wildly. This made his dress sway and his erection bounce beneath. He jammed his right arm against his body and let his wrist hang completely limp. Then he picked up the phone with the other hand.

"Hello," he said breathlessly.

"You sound like you're in a good mood," said his wife.

Henry suddenly felt a pang of shame. Was he really playing at being a girl? He blushed and straightened his wrist, pulling his body together a little more rigidly. "Hi honey, yeah, I'm uh good."

"Are you and mother getting along?"

"Sort of... she's not here."

"She's not? Where is she?"

"She decided to go shopping," he said.

Henry looked down at his feet. He thought about kicking off the heels lest his wife hear some sound that told her he was wearing them even while her mother was gone, but the ankle straps made it difficult. "Is she leaving you alone then?" asked Emily.

"Not really. You know your mother. She's barking orders and wants everything her way. She's not here right now, but she left me a list of things she wants done while she's gone."

"But she's not being too hard on you, is she?"

Henry wasn't sure how to answer that. His mother-in-law had been very hard on him, or so he thought. But he realized it had helped him carry off this silly charade. Without her, he would still be stumbling around painfully on the heels and wagging his erection at anyone who sat down across from him. So, while she had been difficult, she had helped him a lot. He didn't want his wife thinking he was in any way pleased by this, however, so he decided not to tell her that. After all, what kind of man would be pleased by that?

"She is your mother," he said sourly.

Emily sighed. "I know. Well, hang in there, honey. I'm thinking hard of some way to end this as quickly as possible. You won't need to do this much longer, baby."

"Why can't we just say that Miranda decided to quit?"

"Because that doesn't make any sense. Why would she suddenly quit when she's got room and board and a paycheck and she isn't being asked to do anything more than a regular maid? People don't quit ideal jobs. And if she did quit, my mother would start to ask questions as to why." Now Henry sighed. "I guess so."

"At least, with my mother gone, you're getting a break for now. Just make sure you get that dress and those heels back on before she comes home," said Emily. She knew her husband. She knew he had stripped off every feminine item the minute her mother left.

Of course, she knew wrongly this time. Henry blushed at her words. He glanced down at the tall white high-heeled pumps on his feet, the tight black costume-dress he wore, and the bulge where his penis tent-poled the dress out away from his body. Her words really filled him with shame that he still wore these things. "What is wrong with me?" he asked himself. "Well, I need to run to a meeting. Hang in there, honey. Love you." "Love you too," he said.

They hung up. After they hung up, Henry moved to the couch and sat down. He didn't understand why he hadn't done as his wife thought he had and stripped off the dress and the heels. Sure, he didn't know when his mother-in-law would be back, but he still could have removed the heels at least. It would only take a few seconds to put them back on and buckle the straps.

"So why didn't I?" he asked himself.

Then the bigger question hit. Why in the world had he been prancing around pretending to act like a girl - well, a cartoonish version of a girl. Yes, it had felt a bit like defiance, but it was defiance by acting in the exact way of the thing he was defying. That suddenly didn't feel so defiant.

"You don't enjoy this, do you?" he asked himself. "Absolutely not!" he countered right away.

But was that true? On the surface, he was clear with himself that he didn't like any of this. But if that was true, why did he keep getting erections from wearing these clothes? Why did the sound of his heels echoing off the floors excite him? Why did he like the feeling of his balls dancing in the non-supportive panties? Why did the rustling of his dress send chills down his spine?

"Why?" he asked aloud.

There was no answer he wanted to give. One thing was for sure though, he was never going to tell anyone what was going through his mind at the moment. Men... real men... didn't have these thoughts. They didn't let themselves get tricked into dressing like this. They didn't get erections from it. They didn't feel submissive to their mothers-in-law and they certainly never felt thankful that their mothers-in-law had taught them how to walk in heels or sit in skirts. Never.

And he didn't either... or so he told himself. Then he stroked himself. —o— Hazel sat in the back seat of the cab as she returned to her daughter's house. Filling the seat next to her were a half-dozen shopping bags full to their tops with various items she had picked up from the store belonging to Eva's friend Mandy. These were for the next phase of her little game. She was talking to Eva about the trip on her phone.

"Yes, Mandy was most helpful," said Hazel.

"I should say I'm glad, but I'm not. So, I take it, you're still going forward with this awful plan?" asked Eva.

Hazel chuckled. "Of course, darling. They have yet to admit that they tried to fool me. Indeed, to the contrary, they are continuing to try to fool me... both my daughter and her husband."

"I still think this is a mistake, Hazel."

"Where's that harm, darling? So he wears a dress for a few weeks. When it's all over, he takes it off and everything goes back to normal except they will have learned they can't fool me. It's not like his thingie is going to fall off or he's going to end up permanently feminized."

The cabbie raised a shocked eyebrow and glanced in his rearview mirror at Hazel. She waved back at him dismissively.

"Eyes on the road. Eyes on the road," she said.

The cabbie shook his head as if he thought she was insane and focused on the road again.

"And you're really training him to be a maid?" asked Eva.

"Certainly. Why not? He can learn to be useful."

"If that's what you call it."

"And frankly, darling, he needed the training. He was horrible at housework. Even worse, you should have seen it when he sat down. His thingie was wagging all over the place. He spread his legs wide like a sailor and his thingie was hard and bouncing around inside his open skirt for the world to see!"

The cabbie raised his eyebrow and glanced at her again. "Eyes on the road, Mister," said Hazel aggressively.

"Maybe he shouldn't be wearing skirt then," suggested Eva. "Oh don't worry, darling, he's trained now. He knows how to sit in skirts, and walk in heels too. He's much more graceful."

"I'm sure he's happy about that," said Eva sarcastically.

"Actually, I think he may be."

"What?"

"He seemed rather grateful for the lessons."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"Trust me, Eva. I do know what I'm doing. And let me remind you, he could get out of this whole mess by just admitting what he's done. It's not like I'm holding a gun to his head and telling him to dress like this." "I guess," said Eva.

Chapter Eight: "You Went Shopping?!" —o— Emily came home that night to quite the surprise. As she walked through the front door, Henry met her and took her purse and her coat and hung the coat up in the closet after setting the purse on the small table by the door for her. This struck her as a very servile or submissive action by her husband. Interestingly, she found she kind of liked it. There was something about being served, especially by her husband - who could otherwise be lazy and self-centered at times - which made her feel... important. She liked that feeling.

This wasn't the big surprise, though. What really surprised Emily was how Henry was dressed. She had expected him to be wearing the maid costume. Instead, she found him wearing a rather stylish dress and some snappy heels. "Welcome home, Ma'am," said Henry. "'Ma'am'?" thought Emily and a tingle raced down her spine. "You look nice," she said cautiously.

Henry blushed. "Thank you."

Before she could say another word, her mother hugged her. "Welcome home, darling!" She then put her arms around Emily and walked her to the kitchen for dinner. Emily would not get the chance to talk privately to her husband until later that night. She could observe him though and this brought a second shock. Not only was he wearing new feminine clothes, but his walk had become very feminine suddenly. Indeed, it was almost seductively feminine. She noticed other new feminine mannerisms as well. For example, when he sat, he sat properly and quickly crossed his legs so his panties didn't show. When he crouched down, he bent at the knees, not the hips, again protecting his modesty. His hands and arms were held differently too with a hint of his wrist being limp. "What is going on?" she wondered.

—o— Dinner was over. Emily had retreated to the bedroom. Emily's mother was safely in her own bedroom as well where she could not hear them. Henry snuck back to the master bedroom. He slipped through the door as Emily was changing for bed. She had just unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor, where it bunched around her black spike-heeled pumps. She stepped out of it and then picked it up.

"I see you had quite the day," she said.

"What do you mean?" asked Henry.

"This," said Emily and she reached out and touched his mustard yellow A-line dress. It had color blocking, mixing a brown panel and smaller black panels with the mustard yellow to give Henry the illusion of a squarish hour-glass shape. On his feet were matching mustard yellow opentoed slingback heels with brown stitching and a brown-wood stiletto heel of about five inches. They were gorgeous. "You went shopping?"

"Are you kidding? You think I'm going to leave the house dressed like this?"

"Where did the clothes come from then?"

"Your mother went shopping and came back with them. She told me I needed better clothes and that she didn't want to see me in anything old or worn out again. 'Even though it's your own time in the evenings, you still need to look respectable for your employers. Always be presentable,' she said."

"She didn't?" laughed Emily incredulously. "She did."

Emily ran her fingers over the mustard dress. It was gorgeous. In fact, she wouldn't mind owning it herself, she thought. The heels were gorgeous too. She certainly couldn't argue with her mother's taste, or with her decision to improve "Miranda's" wardrobe, which was a mess. The clothes Emily had given Henry to stick in his new room were just castoffs really. Still, it did seem a little odd that her mother had bought "the maid" a new outfit.

"That was nice of her, I guess," said Emily cautiously, wondering if her mother had some other motive. "Either way, you look great." "Thanks," said Henry indifferently.

"You really do look great."

"Ok, I get it," snapped Henry unhappily. "Remember, Emily, I'm a man. I don't want to hear how pretty I look in a dress or any of the other things she bought me. That doesn't make me happy." Emily raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "She bought you more?" "Yeah," said Henry cautiously.

"Like what?"

Henry shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Just more clothes." Emily's eyebrow went even higher. How much did her mother buy "the maid"? This sounded really odd. "Where is this stuff?" "It's all in the closet in the small bedroom."

Emily decided to see for herself. She went to the door; she still wore her blouse from work and her panties and pantyhose and heels. She stuck her head out the door and saw that her mother's door was still closed, so she snuck down the hallway to the small bedroom her husband was forced to use at the moment.

Henry followed her.

"Oh my!" said Emily when she opened the closet. Henry watched his wife tear through his closet, pulling out dress after dress and making sounds of approval at each. It was quite a collection. It felt strange to watch his wife examine dresses that ostensibly belonged to him.

"Oooh, this is pretty," she said.

"Uh huh," said Henry indifferently.

"Oh, I like this one."

"Great, you can have it."

Emily turned to face her husband. "I am borrowing this. Seriously, make no mistake. I have to wear this."

"You can have it."

"And look at these shoes," she gushed as she spotted the collection of six or seven pairs of high heels.

"Yeah, look at them," said Henry sourly.

"These are really pretty."

Henry shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe, but look at the heels on those. Doesn't your mother believe in flats?!"

Emily snickered. Her husband liked her in heels and always pushed her in that direction. She saw this as a bit of payback by proxy and she wasn't the least bit sad for him. As for the shoes themselves, like the dresses, her mother again proved to have exquisite tastes. Emily found herself becoming rather jealous. —o— Meanwhile, mere feet away in the guest bedroom, Emily's mother sat on her bed planning how to continue Henry's womanhood training. She was on the phone discussing her plan with her friend Eva, who remained skeptical that this was a good idea.

"So your evil plan is working, is it?" asked Eva.

Hazel snickered. "It's not evil; it's quite the opposite. And yes, it is, thank you very much."

"And you've got the poor fellow trooping around in a dress all day?" "He's got himself trooping around in dresses."

"I'm sure you've got nothing to do with that," said Eva doubtfully.

"Of course, I have, darling. That's part of the fun. As long as I'm here and they won't admit what they've done, he's going to be stuck like this and I'm going to take advantage of it to have my fun with him. Besides, as I've said before, if he didn't want to do it, he could have stopped at any time."

"So you say. What if your daughter is making him go along with it?" Hazel smiled. "Then good for her. What's more, if she is, then I'm right to continue if it makes her happy."

"Hazel—"

"Don't be such an old ninny, Eva. If he wanted to stop me, he could do so at any point. All he needs to do is say 'stop.' He hasn't. And even if my daughter is forcing him, as you suggest, then she'll be getting what she wants, to which I say 'good for her.' Besides, I'm enjoying myself."

"Oh Hazel, you are a peach."

"Quite right. Now stop criticizing and help me," said Henry's mother-in-law.

"With what?"

"I need some help designing a training course."

"A training course? I thought you had a course already." "Yes. I've given him deportment lessons. I taught him to sit and stand and walk and the such, and let me tell you, he needed it badly. I've been teaching him maid duties as well; he's finally becoming useful for the first time in his life. Tomorrow he's going to learn to iron and change sheets. In the morning, I'm starting something I'm calling 'art-of-service training,' where I'll teach him the proper mindset to serve my daughter," said Hazel.

"The proper mindset?"

"Yes," said Hazel. "There is a proper mindset to being a good servant. It requires a certain - oh how to put this - secondary attitude that lets the servant put their employer first."

"Or in this case, his wife."

"Exactly."

Eva sighed. "Well, it sounds like you have things well in hand. What do you need from me?"

"I need more ideas."

"What kind of ideas?"

Hazel paused. She hated ever to admit a lack of knowledge, but her well of ideas had run dry. "I need ideas, darling. Ideas to help me turn Henry into a woman quickly, easily and, shall we say, embarrassingly." Eva chuckled. "So he can say 'no' anytime, can he?"

"Of course, he can. But just because he says it, doesn't mean it will happen. Now get off your high horse and help me. I need more ideas." "How about dancing lessons?" "Dancing lessons?" "Yes, dancing lessons." "How would dancing lessons help?"

"I've always felt my most feminine when I went dancing." Hazel shook her head doubtfully. "I don't see how that would help feminize him. I will keep it in mind though," she said, leaving no doubt that she would not in fact consider it again. Chapter Nine: "Something Stirring" —o— It was the following day. The one after Henry got his new wardrobe.

Emily sat behind her desk staring off into space. She was slowly swinging her leg beneath her desk and tapping her finger against the side of her chin. She was thinking about Henry, at home, being bossed around by her mother, and wearing women's clothes. Even more to the point, she imagined him in the gorgeous mustard dress and the yellow heels. Something about him in that outfit had caught her imagination. Something about his being bossed around excited her too, though she was too focused on the dress to appreciate that yet.

"Why am I thinking about my husband in a dress?" she wondered. She thought about how the dress hugged his curves and made him appear very feminine. She thought about how he tottered around on the tall heels. She thought about how delicately insecure he looked. As she did, she felt a little flushed and her nipples popped up. She rubbed one nipple without thinking about it. Suddenly, she realized what she was doing! "Oh noooo," she said in disbelief. "It can't be!"

Emily picked up a project report from her desk and started reading it as fast as she could. She was trying to force her mind onto another topic... but it didn't work. Try as she might, her mind kept coming back to all the little details of her husband's feminization. She saw his painted nails... nails she wanted to rake her back. She saw the lipstick on his lips... sensual lips she wanted to kiss. She saw his feminine legs... legs she wanted to rub with her fingers. She saw how he tottered in the heels... heels which kept him vulnerable. She saw his short dress, which kept him accessible with a single reach. She saw all of this and it made her very, very wet. That made her shoulders slump. "It's true." She sighed. "This is turning me on," she told herself. "What does that mean? What do I do now?" A feeling of uncertainty filled her. How could such a naughty, forbidden thing turn her on? Even worse, how could something her husband would never accept turn her on? At that moment, Emily's secretary stuck her head in the door. "The meeting starts in ten minutes. "All right, I'll be there," said Emily. She then stared out into space again. She had no idea why this excited her or what she wanted out of it, but she knew it was going to be a problem if she wasn't careful... and perhaps for Henry too. —o— Back at home, things weren't going well for Henry. After reinforcing the lessons in feminine mannerisms from the prior day, his mother-in-law started to teach him something she called "the art of service." To Henry, this wasn't so much about service as it seemed like she was teaching him to act submissively. She taught him never to speak first, to ask questions discretely, never to push back against an employer after they made a decision he didn't like, to stand when his employer entered the room, and various other minor motions and sayings that all ensured he would be seen and not heard. Now they had moved on to something much, much worse. "Do it again," said Hazel.

"Are you sure maids do this?" asked Henry.

"Never question your employer. Now do it again."

Henry sighed. He then did as his mother-in-law had showed him. He grabbed the hem of his dress, one hand on each side, and pulled it out slightly. Next, he slid one foot back behind the other, making sure not to fall over in the tall heels. This move was surprisingly difficult for as simple as it looked because his heels were so close together in a straight line that it made balancing difficult. He did it though. Then he leaned forward slightly for balance and bent his knees, causing his body to lower in the process. When he got as low as he should, he counted to two before reversing the process and raising himself again. He had executed the perfect curtsey.

"Excellent," said Hazel.

Henry didn't feel excellent. To the contrary, he felt weak, servile and embarrassed. To him, this was an embarrassing act of submission, not something to be proud of.

"Now do it again."

Henry sighed. He did it again though, and again he executed the perfect curtsey. Apparently, he was good at this. "From now on," said his mother-in-law, "you will do this when you first enter a room and when you are given instructions, whether it's myself or my daughter giving the order."

Henry's jaw dropped. "Emily?!" he gasped.

Hazel snickered. If she hadn't known this was Henry, he would have given himself away right there. She, however, didn't want him knowing that she knew about him. "Of course! She is your employer!"

Henry bit his tongue. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Let's practice again," said Hazel.

As Henry repeated his curtsey, Hazel snickered at the looks she expected on his and Emily's faces when he executed one right in front of her. This was going to be hilarious!

—o— It had been a long day, and one made all the longer by Henry's pensive mood. Was he really expected to curtsey to his own wife? That would be humiliating! Emily was going to burst out laughing. He was dreading that. He also couldn't stop thinking about it.

"This whole thing just keeps getting worse," he told himself.

He ran the duster over a large clock on the wall. "I can't curtsey to my own wife!"

Dinnnggggg Donnnggggg! The doorbell rang. Henry froze. Normally, he would have thought nothing of answering the door. After all, it was his house. He was the man of the house. Whoever was at the door was here to see him or someone in his household, so he should meet them. But the dress and heels complicated that now.

"Are you going to get that?" asked his mother-in-law, who had come up behind him.

"What?! I can't let them see me like this!" he gasped.

Henry immediately understood what he had done. He had basically given himself away. He had blown it. Why would a woman be horrified to answer the door just because she was in a dress? She wouldn't. His motherin- law knew that too, and she would know that something was amiss here. She would now take a closer look at him and would, at any second, recognize him for who, and what, he really was. He braced himself for disaster. Surprisingly, it didn't come.

Like him, his mother-in-law also had realized what had happened, but she wasn't ready yet to let him know that she knew who he really was. Hence, she decided to play dumb to maintain the secret. "You mean because of the uniform?" she asked, throwing him a lifeline. He grabbed it.

Henry nodded his head like it was on a spring. "Yes! That's it." Hazel smiled. "Well, don't worry about that, darling. No one will judge you for a uniform." She then put her hand in the center of Henry's back and pushed him toward the door. He tried to resist at first, but found he didn't have enough traction in the heels; while his mother-in-law also wore heels, hers were wider and she had more experience in them. They moved relentlessly toward the door.

Dinnnggggg Donnnggggg! The doorbell rang again. Henry tried desperately to think of some reason why she shouldn't make him open the door, but nothing came. He was the maid, after all. This was part of his job. A moment later, they reached the door.

"Go on," said Hazel and she prodded Henry forward with a shove in the back.

Henry stumbled toward the door. His mouth was dry. He was sweating. There was another human being on the other side of this door. They would see him. They would see him in a dress! Would they spot him? He was terrified. He was so terrified, it barely registered with him that he had turned the knob already and was pulling the door open.

"Hello there," said the well-built man in the brown uniform.

"Hi," squeaked Henry.

"I've got a package for you. It needs a signature."

Henry focused on the man's uniform. Then he looked at the package. He looked at the signature pad. He slowly reached out and took the signature pad and wrote his name on it. As he signed his name, he noticed the man trying to inconspicuously look him up and down from head to toe as well. This made him tingle strangely on the inside, and his penis grew hard beneath his stiff skirt. He prayed it hadn't become visible.

When Henry finished signing, he held out the pad.

"Trade you," said the man and he held out the package. The man then took the pad as Henry took the package. He smiled at Henry and started back down the sidewalk. Henry watched him for a moment before closing the door. At the last possible second before he closed the door, he saw the man look at the signature pad and stop cold. It was then that Henry realized he had signed for the package with his real name. His face flushed bright red and he turned the lock on the door just in case. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" asked Hazel.

This struck Henry as an ironic choice of words as he was indeed hard. Still, that wasn't an answer he could, or would, give.

"No, Ma'am," he said. "Good. From now on, you will answer the door whenever someone rings."

Henry watched his mother-in-law turn and walk away. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn that she was toying with him. But that wasn't possible as she didn't know he was anything other than a normal woman, right? Either way, he had a new duty, a duty he did not like. He also still had the erection.

—o— Henry dreaded this moment all day. Emily had come home. They had heard her car and she was now approaching the front door. He was waiting behind the door wearing the black maid costume-dress and the white high-heeled spikes. His mother-in-law was standing behind him, making him feel like helpless prey. She wore a pink shirt-dress and white-leopard highheeled pumps.

"Remember what I taught you," said Hazel.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Emily stepped onto the porch. As she did, Henry grabbed the doorknob and pulled open the door. Emily smiled at the surprise of her husband opening the door for her and she stepped through into the house. She wore a black pant suit - the last pants she had that still fit her growing figure - a white blouse, and black spike heels. She looked smart and sexy, as always.

"Welcome home, Ma'am," said Henry with great effort.

"Good evening, Miranda," replied Emily.

And then Henry dropped into a curtsey. Emily's jaw almost dropped as she watched her husband execute a very traditional, very feminine, very submissive curtsey. She had been getting wet in the car just thinking about seeing her feminized husband again, but when she saw this, she almost came.

"Oh my," she let out before she caught herself. Henry's face burned with shame.

Emily blushed as well as her husband finished the curtsey. She did her best not to give away how this curtsey had affected her, however. She thought it best to appear indifferent.

"Welcome home, darling," said Emily's mother, interjecting herself. "I've been teaching Miranda the finer points of working for a proper household."

"I can see that," she said.

"Isn't she good at this?" "Yes, mom."

"She's a natural!"

Emily struggled to suppress a grin. She knew that Henry had to be dying to hear all this praise for his submissive feminine side. She faked a cough to hide the grin and then held out her purse for her husband to take, something he had now done each night. Henry took her purse and placed it on the small table behind him. His penis grew beneath the maid dress; something about taking her purse always struck him as... well, he didn't know. He just knew it made him hard every time. Tonight was no exception. "What are we having for dinner?" asked Emily.

"I've prepared a chicken soup," said Hazel.

"Oh good, I love your chicken soup."

Emily now pulled off her coat and handed it to her husband as well. She did this casually, almost indifferently, which gave her a momentary rush of power, which made her tingle. She was finding that she liked being waited on. She liked being in charge.

"Why don't you come to the kitchen and tell me about your day as I finish the soup?" suggested her mother.

"In a moment, mom," said Emily. She raised one leg behind her and pulled her high-heeled pump from her foot. She let out a sigh as it popped off her foot. "I just need to run these to the bedroom first." She then repeated her motion with the other foot, pulling the second shoe off as well. She lost five-inches in height in the process, but gained a little freedom. After this, she started down the hallway, but she stopped after only two steps. A wicked grin appeared on her lips and her face lighted up. She turned to her feminized husband. "Actually, would you be a dear and take these to my bedroom, Miranda?"

Henry was stunned. All day long, he had been taught to submit by his mother-in-law in one embarrassing task after another. He didn't like it, but he comforted himself by telling himself his wife would never act the same way. But now she was getting in on the act too. She had essentially ordered him to carry her shoes to the bedroom! This made him feel very servile.

He blushed, but he had no choice.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said and he reached for them. They were still warm from her body heat and damp from the sweat from her feet. Touching them made him tingle all over.

"Thank you, darling," said Emily.

Without another word, Emily and her mother disappeared down the hallway to the kitchen. They left Henry standing there holding his wife's shoes, feeling very feminine, and sporting a throbbing erection. Chapter Ten: "Caught In The Act"

—o— Before Henry knew it, his mother-in-law had been visiting for two weeks. Then another few days passed... and a couple more. He had pushed his wife the entire time to agree to have Miranda finally announce that she was leaving, but for one reason or another there was always some reason to "wait a couple days." Hazel buying Henry the new wardrobe became a particular sticking point, as Emily insisted a maid would never leave an employer after such a magnificent gift. "What if I returned it?" asked Henry. "You can't. It's just not done," said Emily. "But Miranda needs to leave." "I agree, but she can't at this point. I'm sorry, honey, but you'll need to stick with it for now." And so, Miranda endured. Unfortunately for Henry, Miranda enduring was causing him a problem... a specific problem. It was making him horny. In fact, the longer this dragged on, the more horny he got and the more everything made him horny. Wearing dresses made him horny now. The sound of his heels made him horny. The feeling of his testicles swishing around in the non-supportive panties made him horny.

His wife wasn't helping things either. For some reason, she seemed to be enjoying his feminization and she kept doing little things to almost make it a game, like sneaking her hand up his skirt or tweaking his nipple when her mother turned her back. She particularly liked to touch his rear and whisper, "Cute skirt."

These things kept him hard almost all the time now.

What got him the worst though was the nightly ritual when Emily came home. When she walked through the door, he was expected to curtsey to greet her. That made him feel servile and super horny for some reason. Even worse, his wife seemed to like this treatment. Indeed, she enjoyed playing Mistress of the House and treating him as her servant. Hence, she would then hand him her purse without a word of thanks for him to put away for her - when this first started, he almost needed to yank the purse away from her because she didn't want to give it up; now she did so as if she was entitled to have him do this.

After the purse, he would hang up her coat. Then she would strip off her high-heeled shoes and hand those to Henry as well. Again, this was something that started basically by accident and she was embarrassed when it happened. Now she saw this as a matter of course. She didn't even thank him or speak to him about it anymore. She just pulled them off and handed them to him, all the while ignoring him and talking to her mother about her day.

"Take these, maid," her silence seemed to say.

Henry found this annoying as it seemed she was taking his servant status for granted. He found it annoying that she seemed to think this was something to which she was entitled. He found it annoying that it seemed to turn him on despite his annoyance. In fact, by the time he took hold of her high heels, he was so horny each night he was throbbing.

This night, as he retreated to the master bedroom to place the shoes in the closet, he found himself extra horny. He tried to ignore it though. He put his mind on his duties and he placed his wife's warm, damp shoes in the closet. As he did, he saw a red dress similar to one his mother-in-law had bought him. His was cuter, he thought. His had polka dots. He wore it with red espadrille wedges too with white polka dots. The outfit was cute. It was surprisingly comfortable too.

"I wonder if this one is as comfortable?" he thought as he ran his fingers over his wife's dress.

Henry heard his wife and mother-in-law in the kitchen. He would be expected to finish making dinner for them. Then he would clean up and do a few more chores before he was allowed to change.

"'Allowed' to change," he thought. "How did I go from man of the house to 'allowed' to change?"

He sat down on the edge of the bed. He wanted a break. When he sat, he crossed his legs as he had been taught. But then he decided to rebel a little and he uncrossed his legs and spread them in a very unladylike manner. When he did, he felt his erection poke up into his taut skirt. It felt good. A naughty thought crossed his mind.

Henry pulled his skirt back, exposing his delicate panties and his stiff manhood beneath. He slipped his hand inside his panties and pulled out his erection. It was large and hard and waiting. He started stroking. As he did he thought about the clothes he wore. They were embarrassing, that was for sure, but they were also kind of exciting... weren't they? "No, this doesn't turn me on," he told himself.

But did it? He was hard after all, and he couldn't shake the thought. He shook his head. "No."

Henry stroked himself slowly, methodically, hitting all the right spots as he did. He felt so relaxed. He tingled all over. His eyes closed and he leaned back onto the bed. Stroke. Stroke.

"This doesn't turn me on," he assured himself.

Stroke. Stroke.

He closed his eyes. He imagined the rustling sound of his skirt. That gave him a warm, soft feeling. He heard the clicking of his heels all over the house. That sent a shiver down his spine.

Stroke. Stroke.

Henry pulled his legs up onto the bed and jammed his heels into the mattress. He now lay on his back with his knees in the air, spread wide, and his erection sticking up straight from his crotch, with his skirt bunched up above it. Stroke. Stroke.

"Some of the chores are kind of peaceful," he thought, trying to be fair, even if that wasn't the thought he was hiding from. Then he thought back to his wife's expression whenever he curtseyed. It made him so hot. He could see something in her eyes that just make him burn on the inside every time. It was like pure lust, like she wanted to rip off his dress and just make wild love to him right then and there in a pile of gossamer panties, lingerie and torn dresses.

Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.

Henry was breathing hard now. His chest was heaving. A rhythm was building within his balls. He could tell that he was getting close. His brain was flashing images of him in various outfits. His erection seemed to grow. He was enraptured. In fact, he was so focused, he didn't hear the sounds of his wife coming down the hallway or opening the door to the bedroom.

"Henry, are you in here," she whispered. Then she gasped. "Henry!"

Henry shot off the bed, letting go of his erection. It was too late though. Not only had she seen him playing with himself, but he had reached the point of no return. White, hot fluid now squirted and dripped out of him in large dollops that got everywhere. He jumped to his feet and tried to pull his panties over his wet erection and his skirt down into place.

"What are you doing?!" whispered Emily aggressively.

"I— well— I—" he stammered.

"You were playing with yourself!"

"I wasn't— I was, uh—"

"Is this turning you on, Henry?" asked Emily. Emily's tone was angry. She didn't know why though. She didn't want to be angry about this, but something just rubbed her wrong in this particular moment. "No! Of course not!" he gasped defensively, and he blushed a little more.

"Then why were you masturbating?!"

"I was just— I just needed a— That was it! It had nothing to do with that!" he exclaimed. He ran his hands down his dress. "This!" He shook his head wildly to deny that Emily folded her arms and glared at her husband. She tapped her stocking-clad foot against the floor. "I should hope not," she said. She looked at his feet and saw the mess he had created. "Get a towel and wipe that up. Then get to the kitchen and get started with dinner. My mother is waiting for you. Just be glad she wasn't the one who walked in here and found you!"

With that, Emily stormed out of the room. A chastised Henry grabbed a towel and cleaned his seed from the floor and the tops of his shoes. He needed to change his stockings too. When he was finished, he reported to the kitchen to do as his mother-in-law required.

Neither Henry nor Emily spoke about that incident that night. Nor did they speak about it the following night, or the night after that. In fact, they never really spoke of it ever again, though it hung over them for quite some time. Interestingly, if they had spoken about it, things might have turned out differently, but they didn't. Which is not to say they didn't think about it. Emily found herself thinking about it over the next several days. She wondered why she had reacted so negatively to the idea that her husband might be excited by women's clothes. It almost seemed a panic reaction as she walked in on something so unexpected. Plus, as she said, what if her mother had seen this? Either way, she had started to realize that she was very interested in exploring this, but by snapping at him and all but demanding that he disavow any such interest, she made it considerably harder for him to admit to such an interest, if indeed he had one. She regretted her mistake, but wasn't sure how to rectify it after seeing him respond so negatively to the assertion.

"He must hate the idea," she told herself.

She bit her tongue. This wasn't what she wanted, but it seemed to be true.

"Why else would he freak out like that when I suggested it?" Emily sighed. She really did want to explore this, but she didn't want to upset her husband.

"I guess I need to act like I hate the idea to keep him happy." Henry too found himself thinking about it. Up to now, he had been certain that his wife liked the idea. He was sure he didn't - he was a man, after all - but he had recently started to wonder. Indeed, as much as it shocked him, he had to admit that before his wife stormed in on him, he had been quite turned on by thoughts of his own feminization. What this meant exactly, he did not know, and for a day or two he didn't want to know. But slowly, that realization came back to him. But now there was a problem. "Clearly, she hates the idea... so I can't really talk to her about it." Henry sighed. He really did want to explore this, but he didn't want to upset his wife.

"I guess I need to act like I hate the idea to keep her happy."

Chapter Eleven: "There's A Problem" —o— Another two weeks passed.

Miranda continued to endure.'

Both Henry and Emily were actually happy about that, though neither dared admit it to the other. Henry did wish, however, that his mother-in-law would ease off on the maid training. Henry's lessons were a mix of maid duties, feminine comportment training, and the art-of-service lessons. Henry found the maid duties exhausting, the feminine comportment training useful to a degree, but embarrassing beyond that, and the art-of-service lessons entirely... well, awkward.

The maid duties were tiring both because they proved to be genuinely hard work, but also because of the way he was dressed. The dress forced him to hold himself in ways that weren't natural to him. It made him take wide sweeps with his arms and step around things he normally would have walked past to avoid entangling the skirt with the object; it took him some time and several things knocked off shelves before he learned this lesson. The corset made this worse because it restricted his free movement, forcing him to maintain a rigid posture and requiring more work just to breathe. Naturally, the heels were the worst. They made everything difficult from walking to crouching to even just balancing as he stood in one place. They crushed his toes, made his arches burn, and forced him into an uncomfortable comehither posture he had to maintain throughout the day.

In this regard, the feminine comportment training proved quite useful as it taught him how to move in heels and dresses. This made it easier for him to work whilst dressed in these unfamiliar clothes, and it prevented stumbling and the showing his panties. That helped remove some of the difficulties. But beyond that, the training was embarrassing, as it seemed to be designed to make him move in ultra-feminine ways which made him feel like a sissy. It made him cringe to hold a wrist partially limp or to sway his hips. These weren't things men did and the fact he did them bothered him. It bothered him even more that his wife knew who he was as he did them. Perhaps, if she didn't know who he was, he could do these things and not feel self-conscious, but she knew and he felt like she was judging him. It didn't help either that Emily seemed to enjoy watching him, despite her claim to the contrary.

The worst bit of his training, however, was what his mother-in-law called the art-of-service training. Ostensibly, this training was meant to teach him how maids interacted with their employers and the other people they ran across. To Henry though, this seemed more like it was designed to make him more passive, more servile, and more obedient. Henry didn't like this. He wasn't thrilled about the charade to begin with, but to add this sense that Hazel wanted him to be submissive as well as feminine made him feel small and helpless. Even worse, it seemed to be working... as Henry was soon to notice!

—o— Henry unwrapped the silk robe and slipped his feet out of the wedge-heeled slippers. He hated wearing these things just to go shower, but he couldn't let his mother-in-law see him naked or even partially naked. He was supposed to be a woman after all. He then pulled off the towel, which hid his wigless head.

"A hot shower will be nice," he said.

Henry turned on the shower, observing his red-painted fingernails. He sighed. Then he saw the shaving cream and realized he needed to shave his legs. Again, he sighed.

"This being a woman thing stinks," he told himself.

At this point, Henry realized he forgotten to bring a razor and the only razor he had was still in the master bedroom, so he went to the door and poked his head out. He heard his mother-in-law in the kitchen and he knew he could sneak to the master bedroom with no problem. So he opened the door and he went.

He froze halfway.

Something was wrong... something was wrong with his walk.

Henry kept moving. Again, he felt it. He looked down, but couldn't see what the problem was. It just felt wrong. He was walking as if... was he... was he still wearing the heels? He glanced down. He wasn't. Yet, he saw that he was on tiptoes. He flattened his feet and kept moving. Sure enough, now that he knew what to look for, he realized that his hips were swinging femininely, his steps were delicate and he was placing one foot in front of the other as if he were wearing heels. He was basically sashaying even out of the heels and dress and the Miranda persona! A chill ran down his spine.

"Why am I walking this way?" he asked.

Henry ducked into the bedroom and grabbed his razor. As he did, he became conscious of the fact that lots of his movements were the same as they had been when he was dressed as Miranda, as his mother-in-law had trained him.

This was a shocking revelation, and on the trip back to the shower and his time in the shower, he thought about it. Was he changing for real? Sure, he needed to act differently to be Miranda, but was his acting becoming his "new normal"? Was Henry becoming Miranda? The thought terrified him. As much as he was starting to enjoy some aspects of being Miranda, this terrified him.

—o— "This needs to end," said Henry to his wife that night. He stressed the word "needs." He didn't want to tell her about the shower incident or how he'd watched all day and realized that these feminine mannerisms were taking over every aspect of his life, but he wanted to stress the importance of ending the Miranda charade fast. His wife was naturally curious, however. "Why?" she asked. She unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. They were in the master bedroom as Emily prepared for bed. Henry still wore a white dress with blue accents and matching pumps, the same outfit he wore after dinner.

"I just— I'm sick of it."

"I understand, darling, but we need to be careful how we do it—" "Why can't we just tell her that I quit?" asked Henry, who didn't understand why his wife had been so hesitant to just tell her mother that Miranda was leaving and be done with it. He understood why she said she wanted to be cautious, but surely Miranda must have been here long enough now to be ready to quit.

"We need to do it right, so my mother won't be suspicious," said Emily. In her mind, she wasn't even prepared to entertain the idea. She wanted Henry to stay Miranda as long as possible because she knew that once it stopped, it was over. He had made that very clear to her. "Yes, but people quit jobs all the time."

"They don't quit ideal jobs."

"Being a maid is hardly ideal," said Henry, who thought of his aching feet and his bruised ego from the day's activities. "Not for you because you're a man and you have a job, but for 'Miranda,' this very well could be an ideal job. She's getting room and board and we've been excellent employers. Even my mother, who is putting you through your paces, still isn't particularly harsh or demanding— "Says you."

"—and she's been showering you with gifts."

Henry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, dresses and heels and underwear I don't want. Women's clothes. Whoopee!"

"Miranda is a woman, dear. She would want that. What's more, the things my mother is buying her are expensive and gorgeous. No other employer in the world is going to buy her things like that. I can guarantee you that."

Henry exhaled his frustration. "So you're saying we've been too good to Miranda."

"I'm afraid so. Besides, what kind of woman quits on a pregnant woman right after she starts to show?"

Henry sighed. These were good points. He recalled hearing his mother-in-law express similar thoughts - as had Emily - with neither knowing that Emily's mother was intentionally clouding the issue to make it harder for them to make Miranda disappear.

"The thing is, I really need to stop being Miranda," said Henry. "I know darling," said Emily and she ran her fingers gently across his cheek.

"You don't understand. It's too much."

"I know it is. But you've done so well up to now. I'm sure you can handle another couple weeks."

Emily pulled off her blouse and her shoes. This left her in white lingerie from head to toe. She looked gorgeous. Her belly was growing too, which Henry found to be quite sexy. Emily then picked up her clothes and handed them to Henry, who took them without a second thought and returned them to the closet for her. She smiled as he went to the closet and her nipples popped up; Henry didn't notice what he had done.

"It's more than that," he said.

"Is it?"

Henry sighed as he hung up his wife's skirt and then her blouse. He didn't want to tell her what was worrying him, but it seemed that unless he did, she wouldn't understand the real scope of the problem. He turned to face her, still holding her high heels in his hands.

"Honey, listen. I think I'm going crazy," he said.

Emily raised an eyebrow. "How is that?"

Henry bit his tongue. He did not want to admit this... but he had no choice. "I'm starting to act like her," he said.

Emily cocked her head to one side. "Act like who? My mother?" "Miranda. I'm starting to act like Miranda."

"Miranda's not real."

"I know, but I'm acting like her nevertheless."

Emily shrugged her shoulders to show she didn't see the issue.

"Obviously, you're acting like her, you're pretending to be her." Henry shook his head. "That's not what I mean. I mean that even when I take off these stupid clothes," he said and he fluffed up the skirt of his dress, "I still act like her. I walk like her. I sit like her. All that stuff we do every day without even thinking about it, I'm doing it like her now instead of me."

Emily struggled to imagine this. It didn't seem likely. It had to be his imagination; he was being paranoid. After all, how could his mannerisms change just because he was acting like someone else for a few hours a day?

"Are you serious?" she asked cautiously.

Her husband nodded his head.

"Maybe you're imagining it?" she suggested.

He shook his head.

Emily furrowed her brow doubtfully and folded her arms. "All right. Show me."

Henry shook his head again.

"Show me, Henry," she repeated.

Henry took a deep breath. He wanted to do this even less than tell her, but if it had to be then it had to be. He finally nodded his agreement and stripped out of the white dress and the dark-blue high heels. He left the corset in place because he needed to put the dress back on to get to his room and he didn't want to get out of the corset only to put it back in place.

"All right," he said nervously. "Watch."

Henry started across the room. He took delicate steps. His hips swung. His arms hung closely by his side. Emily gasped quietly. Unless he was faking, what he said was absolutely shocking - though, honestly, watching her husband walk like this even out of the heels and dress seemed to be an amazing turn on for her; her nipples were rock hard and she was very wet.

"Could he be faking this?" she wondered. That would be a disappointment, she decided.

"See what I mean?" asked Henry.

"Come here, Henry," she said hoping to break his focus in the event he was trying to fake this. As he approached, his walk became even more feminine than before. Apparently, what he had shown her was real and dramatic. It had also happened so quickly - her mother's training methods must have been much more effective than she had guessed. This was potentially problematic. Could she make him continue if it really was changing him? No, she couldn't.

But then something deep inside her head said, "Hold on! Wouldn't changing back be an even bigger problem?" Indeed, could she actually afford to let him stop before her mother left? Emily furrowed her brow. That was a genuine consideration. If Henry acted like a woman even out of the Miranda uniform, then she couldn't very well swap him out for Miranda, could she? A feminized Henry would completely embarrass her before her mother. And if the changes had become this ingrained, then clearly it would take time to de-feminize her husband before he could become the old Henry again. If she let Miranda leave and Henry return, his feminine walk and other traits would give him away in a minute.

She needed to know how big of a problem this was.

"All right," she said cautiously. "Try it again and this time I want you to consciously try to walk normally. Put all this stuff out of your head." Henry took a deep breath and tried again. This time he forced himself to "walk macho" as he called it in his head. The result was awkward at best. He looked like a girl pretending to be a man.

"Hmm," said Emily.

"What?"

"Try it again, but relax this time."

Henry licked his lips nervously and tried again. He tried to relax, but not to let anything feminine happen. Unfortunately, it was like whack-amole. Every time a feminine mannerism appeared and he focused on squelching it, others appeared to take its place.

Emily twisted her lips. "This is a problem," she thought. His sissy-like performance meant "Henry" could not return until they could defeminize him, and that couldn't be done until after her mother left again. He would just need to accept the fact that he would need to stay "Miranda" and possibly get "worse" before they could make him better.

"Well?" asked Henry, who was getting nervous with how long it was taking for his wife to respond.

"Honestly, honey," said Emily, "I think this is a problem."

"Like I told you!"

She shook her head. "You don't understand. I agree this is a problem, but it means we can't swap you out for 'Miranda' because my mother would know something was up the moment she saw 'Henry' prancing around the house."

Henry shook his head. "You can't mean—"

"Yes. You need to stay hidden until my mother leaves. That means you need to stay as 'Miranda.'"

Henry's jaw dropped. "I can't! I need to go back!"

"You can't, honey."

"But it's getting worse all the time. I'm getting more feminine all the time."

"And that's why you can't."

Henry swallowed hard. He immediately grasped what she was saying though, and he knew she was right. He did not want to stay as Miranda (did he?), but it seemed he had no choice.

Emily also wasn't happy about this ultimately. She didn't want to foist this on her husband, but on the other hand, she knew it would do no harm. She was sure they could undo whatever feminine traits he took on with time. Besides, there was nothing wrong with being feminine and it wasn't like people knew who he was. Not to mention, if she was being completely honest, she was enjoying having Miranda around. She liked the way he had behaved since this began. He helped out so much more. He seemed to respect her opinion so much more. She got her way in basically everything. He was even kind of cute in the feminine clothes, especially that mustard colored dress she coveted. She could deal with this... and so could he.

Chapter Twelve: "A Little Fun On The Phone" —o— The next few days were difficult for both Henry and Emily.

Henry spent his time working under his mother-in-law's direction, but did his best to monitor his motions for signs of feminization. He needed to control those if he wanted to become Henry again before his mother-in-law left, and he had an idea of squelching them if he could isolate them. The problem was, they were proving harder than expected to squelch because he still needed to maintain them to move properly in dresses and heels. It turned out to be rather difficult to rid himself of something he needed.

Making this even harder was the fact his mother-in-law had nothing planned, so she sat in the living room watching him all day long each day. That meant he needed to be at his feminine best the entire time and he never got the chance to try to act like Henry.

"Is she ever going to leave me alone?" he wondered hopelessly. He glanced at his mother-in-law. She sat on the couch behind a book, but her eyes would drift up whenever he moved.

"Doesn't she have anything better to do?" he asked himself. Henry took the duster and moved over to a wall cabinet which contained their television. He stood on tiptoes to dust the top of the cabinet. He felt his calves flex and knew they looked super feminine beneath his tan stockings. That made him shudder... and tingle, though he tried to ignore that part. He finished dusting the cabinet and walked off to the kitchen, knowing that his walk was feminine as well and getting more so all the time.

Unfortunately, she could still see him in the kitchen.

"I need her to go away!"

She wouldn't. In fact, it wasn't until Thursday that he got his first break.

Thursday started normally, but then his mother-in-law decided she would spend the afternoon chatting on the phone in her room, where she couldn't watch him work. That gave him a chance to slack off a bit and to try to act a little more manly to see if he could undo some of what his mother-inlaw had instilled. That said, he still needed to get his work done and done on time or his mother-in-law would throw a fit, and her fits could lead to unpredictable results, but it gave him the break he needed to try to return to being Henry.

The thing is, his wife had other plans. She too had been having a rough couple days. She wanted very much to explore her husband's feminization but felt cut off by the discovery that he was morphing into having feminine mannerisms. After all, she couldn't very well ask him to play with her as a woman when she was forcing him to remain a woman against his will, could she?

Well, on Thursday, she finally decided she needed to try. Not trying was driving her crazy. Maybe it was the hormones from her pregnancy, but she was beyond horny by this point and the only thing that would help her condition would be toying with her husband's feminization!

Henry walked across the living room trying to use as masculine a gait as he could. It wasn't great, but it wasn't feminine either. It was kind of an in-between walk, neither male nor female. He wore the maid costume and the white high heels even though his mother-in-law wasn't there to watch him because he didn't want to get caught having taken them off if she unexpectedly came out of her room.

"That's not good enough," he sighed of his walk.

Rinnnngggggg! The phone rang.

Henry tottered over to the phone and answered it. His walk seamlessly reverted to a very feminine walk as he did.

"Hello?"

"Hi honey," said Emily. She sounded strange to Henry, like she was up to something. She was kind of whispering and yet sounded like she was purring her words almost.

"What's up?" he replied cautiously.

"Is my mother there?" she asked.

"She's taking a nap or making a call or something."

Emily smiled. This was what she wanted. "Oh good. I was hoping to get you alone." She paused. "What are you wearing?" she asked a moment later. There was a sort of giggle in her voice.

Henry raised an eyebrow. What was going on? "Why do you want to know what I'm wearing?" he asked.

"I've been thinking about you, my sexy husband," said Emily. Henry was confused for a moment. Then he thought he understood. "Pregnancy hormones," he told himself. He had discovered that since Emily had become pregnant, her moods could vary wildly from angry to jubilant to who-knows-what. One of those moods was super horny. This sounded like it. This could be fun, he thought.

"All right," he said. "I'll play."

"So tell me, what are you wearing?" she asked again.

Henry craned his head to look down the hallway. His mother-inlaw's door remained closed and there was a hint of what seemed like snoring echoing back toward him. He looked down at his maid dress and the white heels. "I'm wearing a tuxedo and—"

"Tell me for real."

Henry furrowed his brow. "For real? Like what I'm actually wearing?"

"You can shift it around a bit, but basically yeah."

"A dress."

"Sexy," purred Emily. "Is it that gorgeous mustard dress?"

Emily leaned closer to her desk to make herself smaller just in case someone peeked into her office. She had left the door to her office open and she was finding it really exciting to do this that way.

Henry rolled his eyes. Was she really asking if he was wearing the mustard dress as part of a sex game? Had she gone crazy? Why did she want him to talk about wearing a dress? "Must be the hormones," he told himself. Still, it was kind of fun in a kinky sort of way. He spoke into the phone: "Yeah, the mustard dress."

"What shoes are you wearing with it?"

Henry blushed. This conversation was actually a little embarrassing, even as it was a little exciting. "The yellow heels with the brown platforms."

Emily envisioned him wearing that outfit and felt a shudder run down her spine. She slowly slipped her right hand beneath the desk and then between her legs. Her fingers worked their way up her skirt until they found her panties, where they ran up and down her lips gently.

"Is it sexy?" she asked.

Henry wanted to say, "Hell no, it's not!" But he decided to play along. Experience had taught him that it was always good to play along with a horny wife. Much good and little bad could come from it. Besides, it actually was kind of sexy, in a weird sort of way.

"It's super sexy," he said.

He glanced down the hallway once more. His mother-in-law still wasn't there.

"What are you wearing?" he asked.

"I'm wearing my suit. My jacket is open and I'm wearing a white blouse beneath it. My top three buttons are open and my hand is inside my blouse, fingering my nipples through my bra."

Henry raised his eyebrow. Now this was getting exciting! He glanced down the hallway again. When he saw that his mother-in-law's door was still closed, he slid to the floor next to the couch and leaned against it. He used his free hand to pull back his skirt and slipped his fingers inside his panties. He wrapped them around his growing shaft and started stroking himself slowly.

"I'll bet your nipples are nice and hard," he said.

"Very. I'll bet you're nice and hard beneath your dress too, aren't you?"

"Very."

"So tell me, Henry, how does it feel to wear such a sexy dress?" Henry was momentarily taken aback. He knew this was a game, but the idea of saying that it was exciting or whatnot still bothered him. He didn't want his wife thinking he liked the idea of wearing dresses, especially after she caught him masturbating. She had made it clear she didn't like that, right?

"I uh—"

"I'll bet you like how tight that mustard dress is, don't you?" asked Emily.

"Tight, I uh, yes."

"I know you do. It hugs your body and makes you feel like you're all wrapped up like a gift." She paused. "Do you know what I like about you in that dress?"

"What?"

"I like how helpless you look."

Henry wasn't sure how to take this. Although, despite his doubts, he felt something stirring inside him.

"I like how it ties you up too," purred Emily. Her hand was inside her panties now tickling her pleasure button. "Do you want me to tie you up, darling?"

Henry felt a cold shiver race down his spine. He started stroking himself faster.

"I love you in heels too."

"Why is that?"

"You can't get away from me in heels," she giggled.

Henry felt his penis jump in his hand. There was something deeply erotic about the things his wife was saying to him. He had never really thought about women's clothes before except as decoration and cover. She was putting them into a whole new light for him and it was enlightening. The corset was the most like a bondage device. It tied him up and held him in place. It forced a certain posture. So did the heels, though they added the element of loss of control. When he wore heels, he lost his strength, he lost his balance and he lost his ability to flee. By putting on heels, he literally put himself at the mercy of those around him. The trust that required was kind of erotic. And then came the dresses. Wearing a dress, which was so open at the bottom and which could even fly up, exposing him at any point, was another test of his willingness to put himself at the mercy of those around him. Not to mention, there was a naughtiness to all of this as he wasn't supposed to be the one wearing these things. His wife was supposed to wear these things and put herself at his mercy. But because of circumstance, he was now at her mercy and she was enjoying it... and that excited him. It was true. As much as he didn't want it to excite him, it did and he had the erection to prove it.

He stroked even faster. He wanted to come.

Emily did too.

Down the hallway, Henry's mother-in-law had come out of her room to visit the bathroom. When she glanced toward the living room, she saw William halfway behind the couch. What he was doing was obvious. This troubled her.

—o— Hazel spent the day getting increasingly worried about what she had seen. To her, this had all be a joke on her daughter and her husband and a chance to teach Henry a lesson, to make him more helpful around the house. It was nothing more than that. Indeed, she had imagined, when all was said and done, standing in the kitchen as her properly contrite daughter and husband stood before her with their heads down as she lectured them on trying to sneak something like this past her.

"And another thing," she saw herself saying, "you have no excuse anymore, Henry."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You know how to do all the housework now. You can do it. You have been doing it. My daughter works hard to support this family, and now is raising a baby as well. It's time you stepped up and took over the doing of this work."

Henry would then nod his head and agree. Her daughter would smile and thank her. Then she would tell Henry to change out of the ridiculous maid costume and they would live happily ever after. That's how this story was supposed to end.

But now she worried something new was brewing... something terrible.

"What if Henry likes being a woman?" she asked. "What if he's a cross-dresser?"

In her mind, she saw him masturbating behind the couch again. She had not seen the phone in his hand, nor had she known that her daughter was on the other end of the line.

"Maybe Emily doesn't even know? Maybe he tricked her into thinking she was forcing him to dress that way so he would learn to do housework, but all along he was trying to get her to accept him as a sissy?" A chill raced down Hazel's spine.

"What do I do?"

She sighed. There seemed to be only one thing to do. That was to put an end to this. She needed to stop Henry from continuing as Miranda before he somehow managed to turn himself into Miranda for real and force Emily to accept him!

"I need to let Emily know!" she exclaimed and she rose to her feet. She crossed the room, getting so far as to grab the doorknob. But then she stopped.

"Wait. That might not work."

Several things occurred to her suddenly. For one thing, Emily might be rather angry to discover that Hazel knew about Henry and then played this game with them. That did seem a touch dishonest in hindsight. What's more, if Emily felt that Hazel was interfering - something much more likely if Hazel admitted she had been toying with them for over a month now - then Emily would resist any suggestion she made. That meant Hazel needed to keep this secret to herself. That meant she needed to find another way to put an end to Miranda and/or expose Henry. She sighed. "I'll have to think of something."

An hour or so later, Hazel called Eva. Hazel dipped the brush in the vial of nail polish and ran one long stroke along her nail. It turned red behind the brush. She dipped the brush again. She leaned over her phone, which sat on the table in speaker mode. Eva was on the other end of the line. They were talking about Hazel's plan. She had told Eva she was ending it. Needless to say, Eva was shocked.

"Are you serious?" asked Eva.

"Why does that surprise you?" asked Hazel.

Eva was going to answer, "Because you never give up," but decided against it. Instead, she said, "I thought you were going to have your fun with him until they admitted they tried to fool you."

"Oh," said Hazel dismissively. "As my daughter gets closer to giving birth, Henry will need to be here to help out with various procedures and the such. I wouldn't want it being said that I interfered with my daughter's birth." She didn't want to tell Eva what she had seen Henry do or how this was the real reason she was ending her plan early.

"That's very noble of you."

"Yes, it is."

"What's the real reason?"

"Eva, I am surprised at you," said Hazel in an insulted tone. "I have poured my heart out to you, telling you the truth, and here you are accusing me of... well, something. It wounds me to the quick, Eva."

"I am sorry to hear that."

"Apology accepted," said Hazel.

"So what is the real reason?" asked Eva without missing a beat. Hazel growled frustratedly through the phone. Then she said, "It's too simple. There's no challenge at this point. I could probably turn him into a shemale eunuch in under a month if I wanted with nary a moment's difficulty, but where's the sport in that? I ask you."

"This isn't challenging enough for you, is that it?"

"Yes. And, as I've told you before, this is all just a joke. I certainly don't want to actually feminize my daughter's husband, but that seems to be all that's left at this point by way of a challenge. So as I said, there's nothing left to do at this point. I've been foiled by my own success."

"So you're what? You're just going to tell them that you know?"

Hazel shook her head. "No, I think that would cause problems. I'm going to give them a chance to send 'Miranda' packing. And then maybe I'll drop hints at Henry in a year or two just for fun."

"How are going to do that?" asked Eva.

"I'm going to tell my daughter that I think Miranda is untrainable and that she needs to be rid of her. She'll jump at the chance to pretend to send Miranda away and bring Henry back in the process. Henry will too."

"And if they don't?"

Hazel furrowed her brow. "Why in the world wouldn't they?

They've been looking for an excuse all along. I've just blocked them at each turn. Trust me, Eva, they'll jump at the chance."

"I hope so."

"Don't be such a doubting Debbie, Eva. Of course they will.

Mark my words, in a few days everything will be back to normal," said Hazel confidently. She couldn't even conceive of a reason this wouldn't be true.

—o— Emily was dying to get home that night. Her mind was dominated by one thought. Unfortunately, her mother stood in the way when she got home. She would need to wait until after dinner and after her usual nighttime get-together with her mother to finally do what she needed to do. The moment her mother went to bed, however, she was ready. She told Henry to meet her in her bedroom. She told him to wear the mustard dress. In the meantime, she slipped into her sexiest red lingerie and some red strappy highheels. Henry wasn't sure why his wife wanted him to change into the mustard dress, but he did as she wanted. He even changed into the tall yellow heels, despite her not mentioning them, because he knew she liked them

He snuck across the hall to the master bedroom.

When Henry opened the door, he found the room lights off, but a series of candles lit around the room. Clearly his wife was in an amorous mood. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "You wanted to see me," said Henry. "Come here," said Emily.

Henry moved over to his wife. She placed her hands on his chest and moved him to the foot of the bed. To his surprise, she pushed her husband backwards onto the bed and climbed on top of him, running her hands along his arms until she could pin his wrists. She leaned over and kissed him, smearing their lipsticks.

"You look surprised," she said.

"That's an understatement," said Henry. His penis stood at full attention beneath his gorgeous dress. "I didn't know you had this planned. I thought you wanted something 'maid related.'"

Emily giggled and she ran her hand over his erection. "I do. I want my maid."

Henry blushed.

"Oh, don't act that way. You like it. I know you do."

"What makes you say that?"

"The bulge in your skirt. The tone in your voice when I called you earlier. You were so excited. I'll bet you exploded in your panties while we were talking," said Emily, who had had quite an orgasm herself. Henry bit his tongue. He was hard. He had been turned on earlier too, and he also had had an orgasm. The thing is, he wasn't sure yet if he could admit any of this to his wife. It wasn't manly, what he was feeling. And her words echoed in his head: "You better not!"

"So tell me, honey," said his wife, "what excites you most about all of this?"

"This what?"

"Being Miranda."

Henry blushed. "Nothing."

"Something does," she said and she shook his erection with her fingers.

Henry shook his head. "Nothing excites me."

Emily slipped her hand up his dress and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. She started stroking him slowly. It felt really good, especially as they hadn't been able to do this for some time because of his mother-in-law.

"Honestly, nothing about it excites me," he repeated.

"Don't lie, honey." She gripped him a little harder. She knew he liked that.

Henry moaned. "Oh yeah, keep doing that."

"Then tell me the truth... or I'll stop."

Henry started breathing harder. "There is no truth."

"Oh yes, there is. You're hard all the time. I see how excited you get. I heard how excited you were on the phone. I can feel how excited you are now. Tell me the truth, honey," said his wife.

"There is no truth."

Emily exhaled her frustration gently. "Do you know what I think? I think you're afraid that all of this turns you on too mu—"

Henry shook his head and started to object: "No w—"

"Hear me out, Henry. I think it turns you on. I see you shaking your head, but it's true. I notice the little looks you get when you think no one is watching. I see you enjoying the cool breeze coming up beneath your skirts. I think you like being taller. I think you like being wobbly. I've seen you giggle at how femininely you walk... and I see you hard as a rock all the time."

Henry bit his lip. How did she know how often he was hard?

"Yes, Henry," said Emily, reading his expression, "I see you hard all the time. Frankly, I'm surprised you aren't constantly sneaking away to hide in the closet and jerk yourself off. Don't forget, I caught you once already."

This made Henry blush. What had happened then was undeniable. "And earlier today... I could hear how hard you were in your voice," continued his wife.

She stroked him even faster.

Henry swallowed hard. Could he admit the truth? Did his wife really want to know? Was this maybe some sort of trap? No... why would it be? He'd seen how much all of this turned her on. Maybe she wanted it to turn him on too? Should he just tell her the truth and see what happens? "If it doesn't turn you on, then why are you so hard?" she asked in a soft, gentle, encouraging voice.

She stroked faster yet. His breathing became even more labored. Henry could feel pressure building within his shaft. He was going to explode soon if she kept stroking him like this.

"Admit it, Henry."

"It's not true," he said more on instinct than anything. "Of course, it is!"

"It's not!"

"Then tell me the truth!" demanded his wife and she gave his erection a giant squeeze which stopped everything cold. If she didn't let go, there would be no orgasm. Even worse, all that potential that had built up would race back down Henry's shaft like a bullet that had misfired. It would wash back over him, filling him with disappointment. All of this filled his head at the very moment where he told himself he needed strength and a cool head - the upper one at least.

It was too much. He broke.

"It does excite me!" he blurted out.

Henry cringed. He had said it. He had said it against his better judgment and now he had no idea how his wife would respond. Was she going to be angry? He didn't know. He braced himself for the worst. It didn't come.

Emily slowly started stroking him again. "You naughty little girl," she giggled.

"You're not upset?"

Emily smiled. "Should I be?"

"I— well— I just thought."

"Henry, I've seen how excited you get. As much as you pretend this doesn't turn you on, it obviously does. You like the dresses, the panties, the high heels. I think you even like taking orders from my mother." Henry blushed.

"Maybe when she's gone, you can take orders from me," purred Emily. "I think I'd like that."

"You would?"

Emily pressed her fingers a little harder into her husband's shaft. She had found his spot. She saw his eyelid twitch and his eyes start to close. He was helpless now and that turned her on. She raised her own dress and slipped her wet pussy onto his hard shaft. It slid inside so satisfyingly. She started riding him, up and down, up and down.

"Maybe you could even be my full-time maid," she whispered in his ear.

She moved her hips up and down faster. She saw his chest tremble. He was getting really close. She was too. She had so much excitement built up it was all she could do not to come right now.

Henry moaned.

She continued teasing him. "Imagine walking around the house in tight, sexy dresses... high sexy heels... serving me... obeying my every command. You would be so happy."

His chest was heaving.

"You could grow out your hair and nails."

His muscles tensed. She kept riding his slippery staff. His body began to tremble. His breathing was erratic.

"Who knows, maybe my baby would even like a set of his own breasts? Do you want that, honey? A set of your own breasts with big girly nipples I can play with?" asked Emily, who was just as close to coming as he was.

Henry suddenly arched his back, driving his erection upwards. Then he exploded and filled his wife. Whether he wanted what she said or not, she could not tell. But one thing had become quite clear. Her husband was much more attracted to being feminized than she had realized. Perhaps, she would get to see some of her new fantasies come to life yet.

She rode him until he was empty. Then she leaned her face close to his.

"I love you, my sissy girl," said Emily and she kissed her husband. Everything was about to change.