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I am a cross-dresser who has for years enjoyed looking and acting like a woman. Lulu, my wife, started to enjoy this side of me once she discovered how easily she could dominate me. She likes to expose my transvestism to unsuspecting souls.

At first it was something simple like holding panties up to my waist while shopping for lingerie. But it has progressed to her telling me to buy specific items like a pink bra, a red garter belt or a black teddy. She also insists that I tell the sails clerk that the items are for me. I will be severely punished if I don’t comply, so when we go into the lingerie department and asked what we’re looking for, I will answer, “A pink bra. I wear a 36A.” It never fails to raise eyebrows. I love the embarrassment of it all.

My wife loves to embarrass me outdoors too. We will go to a public tennis court with me dressed in a white shirt and shorts with bright pink panties and a bra that will clearly show through underneath. It never fails to provoke stares. I have also gone to the tennis courts wearing a tennis dress with full makeup and a blonde wig. I’m quite convincing when dressed as a girl, so this doesn’t bother my game. But what does bother it is the fact that I’m also wearing tight nipple clamps and have a buttplug in place.

Lulu thinks I should experience womanly feelings and adventures as much as possible. So in bed I must be ready to accept her strap-on dildo and open my mouth so she can feed me my semen when I come. I also make regular visits to a beauty saloon for wig styling and facials.

A real surprise came a few weeks ago. Our tenth anniversary was fast approaching, and we had talked about exchanging vows again. We had arranged to hire a minister in a small chapel and have another couple, our best friends, stand up for us. This would be on a Wednesday night, and we would take off the rest of the week for a second honeymoon.

I should have known nothing is as expected when Lulu is involved.

She called me at work and told me to meet her at a bridal shop later on so we could get fitted. I thought she meant that I would be renting a tux. But when I arrived at the shop she was inside talking to the owner. They gave me a strange smile when I walked in. The owner looked at me and said, “Yes, I have something will fit him perfectly.”

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It was a hot June day. The kind of day that made you feel that you were swimming in the air rather than breathing it. I was sitting in front of the fan trying to stay cool. I was completely naked. I looked down at my body examining the source of my greatest shame. I have an o.k. male body except for the size of my chest.

From the time I was 10 years old I had always been embarrassed by my chest. I remember how free I had once felt being able to run around at the pool with my shirt off, no more. Where a perfectly flat chest had been as a little boy now I had developed larger breasts than some women I knew. I found it hard to buy clothes that fit because of them. I always have to get a large chest size even though the neck and waist is always much too large.

I remember the day at age 13 when it finally hit me that I was different. I was playing happily in the local pool with some friends. I was oblivious to anyone’s looking at me, I had convinced myself that I was too self conscious. It was then that a 16 year old girl called me over to her and said, “Hey Mickey, why don’t you buy a bra!”, I ran back into the pool–crushed. I felt like I had been hit by a cannon ball. I thought to myself, “I wish I were a girl, I would be accepted, even admired for my chest, my breasts, my boobs… if I were a girl.” I stopped going to the pool. Even now some 20 years later I can still feel the pain of that day. I started to sob softly as I remembered it. It was only in private that I felt comfortable with my shirt off and my large breasts exposed. I wonder what they would look like in a bra? Or wearing a dress that was designed with a full cut top and a narrow waist? I wonder what it would be like to get completely dressed as a woman and go out on the town wearing a bra and a dress, and jewelry and having long silky sensual hair? I had never shared my fantasy with anyone, although the thought of it felt thrilling.

As the fan continued to whir, I was awakened from my daydream by the doorbell ranging, I wiped my tear streaked face with a towel and slipped on my shorts. When I pulled open the door a friend of mine, Wendy, bounced in full of excitement and life. Wendy had just been shopping and thought that I could use some company. She said that her apartment was full of the day’s purchases and she wanted to model everything for me. Since her hair was now cut very short she said had even bought a long wig for a more soft feminine appearance on special occasions. But even with her short hair there was no doubt that Wendy was all woman, her curvaceous body was the envy of every woman and the lust of every man who saw her. She had an athletic body that told you she worked out, but she didn’t allow herself to become all skin and bones, you could see her womanly figure tugging at her bra, and her full hips filling her skirt. Even at age 35 she looked like a fresh yet sensual teenager.

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