Her Sissy Hubby - Part 1

PART 2 | ALL STORY LIST

"Denise?  Honey, are you up there?  C'mon down, I want you to meet someone!"

My wife Helen's voice from downstairs!  What was she doing down there? Left for work this morning and was not due back home, she'd said I shouldn't worry if she was late, so I assumed she'd be late!  And felt the urge, and took advantage!  Came home early and went the distance, did everything!  Fragrant bath, my prettiest bra and panties, and camisole, the beautiful burnt orange cocktail dress I'd bought a few months ago at Tolliver's Spring Closeout and never yet worn!

Fingernails shaped and polished to match my lipstick, waterproof mascara, my whole face made up so carefully it'd taken almost an hour! Now, perfect!  Even my perfume, just a spritz, but the floral scent surrounded me!  I was gloriously, beautifully a woman!  But that voice was my wife's!  She didn't know I did these things! She'd kill me if she saw me like this!  God, could I get into the shower? but in the middle of the afternoon?  She'd, No way! No way! I'm, caught!  I began to think again.  Realize things. 'Denise' she'd called me?

How did she know that's my femme name?  How did she even know I was up here being Denise?  What was she doing home so early anyhow?  I knew why I hadn't heard her come in that damned front door with its silent closure!  Ever since last week, when I'd finally fixed it after weeks of her bugging me!  Oh, God, worse!  There's somebody down there!  She wants me to meet someone down there!  I looked about wildly, then glanced into the mirror!

No hope!  A rather pretty, well-turned-out young woman glanced back at me.  Altogether presentable, and dressed well enough for a fancy restaurant or discreet nightclub.  Quite attractive, all in all.  But for the moment, looking startled!  Her arched eyebrows were lifted high and her dark eyes were wide open.  Frightened!  Yet, underneath all that, I was still a man!

Could I get out of these clothes somehow?  Strip off my stockings, unclip them, and roll them down, and, no way!

No time!  Cover everything with sweatpants and a sweatshirt?  Maybe.  But not my face, none of this stuff washes off! And these high heels are so tight on my feet!  Hide?  Where?  But better, no, worse, she wasn't calling me, she was calling Denise!  She knows about Denise!  Never mind how she knows! So if there's someone there with her I can't possibly come down as her husband Denny, even if I could change!  That would be too weird.  Moreover, she assumes I'm dressed nicely, and that I won't disgrace her when I somehow show up!

She knows that Denise is not a slutty drag queen or some heavy-bearded transvestite, like a lot of cross-dressed men, and that it's likely I look quite presentable.  But presentable to whom?  Who's with her?  "Babe, I know you're up there, your car is still here, and I can see a reflection of a bathroom light that's still on.  You're always so shy about your looks just so!

Don't worry, I'm sure you look fine, however, you're dressed, you always do!  You're so finicky!  But if you're not dressed yet just throw a robe on or something. It'll just be for a moment.  I've brought Jake home, and I know you'll want to meet him after all the talking and giggling we've done together about him!  I want you to know I've decided to take your advice, and that's why I want you to meet him before we do, so you'll know how right you were!

I'm so glad you told me to take a chance, tell him how I feel, and see how that feels!  We were having lunch together and I did and oh, darling, it seems he's felt the same way about me the whole time!  Thinking the same thoughts!  And that's why we're here neither of us wants to wait any longer!"  What in the world is she talking about?  'Jake'?  I don't know any "Jake' and she knows it!  Moreover, what in the world is she trying to tell me?

That she knows I'm Denise?  That I'm up here being Denise! She probably also knows I now need time to make up my mind what to do whether to try to change my clothes that's hopeless or to jump out of an upper-story window possible, not likely, or just come down and act out the charade she's setting up.  Me as Denise.  Be Denise. But is Denise her sister?  Her girlfriend?  Either way, she's her housemate, the girl she lives with!  That's what she wants me to pretend.  So what should I do?  Stall?  Maybe it'll all go away?  No.

"Jake?" I called down to her in Denise's voice, the contralto I'd practiced until I could answer the phone at the office and people could assume I was my secretary, that I had a secretary, even though I'm a one-man operation, a consulting architect who mostly works from home. I've also used it to order some of my more racy lingerie by phone, and my wigs, one of which I was wearing.  "You say, Jake?"  Big mistake!  I shouldn't have answered her at all!  Now I can't hide and pretend I'm not here!  Now I have to be 'Denise'!  She knows I'm here!

He does too, this 'Jake'!  "Yes, Jake, I've told you all about him, how I so much want to, and I've told him all about you too, how you're my dearest, my best girlfriend for years and years, how we were roommates back in college and just never quit being roommates after we graduated! I've even told him about some of the strange boyfriends you bring back here sometimes to amuse you, how some of them know how to keep you happy all night!

Well, now it's my turn!  I'm bringing home, my boyfriend.  But Jake would love to meet you first, and I'd love for you to meet him, so you'll know why I can't wait, why we, Oh, Denise, come down just as you are!  If you don't I'm going to come up there and drag you down!"

"Please do come down, Denise," I heard a man's voice add from below.  A kindly voice, a little tentative.  This wasn't his house, after all. "I'd love to meet you!"  Decent enough guy by the sound of him.

But who was he?  So now there was no doubt, there was someone else down there too, a real 'Jake.'  Helen wasn't just scaring the bejeebers out of me, punishing me for keeping Denise hidden from her all these years by threatening to expose me to some guy she'd supposedly brought home.  She didn't mean just to scare the hell out of me, knowing the threat was frightening enough.  No, this was the real thing.  Full-scale exposure!  Denise was about to enter the world as herself.

As if herself.  To make her maiden voyage!  Forced to it as if she wasn't!  Say something!  Accept the terrifying nightmare Helen is improvising for me to enter into!  I'm not her husband.  I'm her best girlfriend, the confidante she lives with.  "I was just getting ready to go out!" I called down.  "I won't be a moment more!"  So now maybe I can zip past them, barely show myself, and then leave? Get out of the house and out of sight and into the rest of the world, where at least I can hide in plain sight as if a real woman.

As Denise. Until the coast is clear and I can come home and strip down and be Denny again.  Keep the embarrassment, the risk of being found out, to the absolute, unavoidable minimum.  But now I was committed.  Now I had to show myself to both Helen and this 'Jake.'  In just one more moment.  "That's all right," Helen's voice returned up the stairs.  "Take your time!  We'll be down here having a drink!  I'll pour one for you whenever you feel ready to come down and join us."  She was telling me there was no escape.  But join them?  Not flash and run?

Was she being cruel or considerate?  She must know that 'whenever I feel ready' means for me, in one sense, never.  At least not during the seven years of married life I've been secretly dressing as a woman, hiding it from her after a first few years of trying to give it up and failing.  So at least she'd never know.  Or so I'd thought.  In another sense, I was thinking, 'whenever I feel ready' can mean when I've screwed up my courage because there's nothing for it, no way out, I have to trust that I can pass, can seem to be Helen's housemate Denise and nothing more, no one else and no one but.

Play it out that way and come down the stairs like a lady, graciously poised.  Somehow survive the humiliation.  Looking like a clown if I can't pass as 'Denise,' and utterly emasculated, thoroughly feminized if I can pass.  Either way forever after, her memory would see me as less than a man.  A lot less.  And 'whenever I feel ready' to allow this 'Jake' person she's brought home to see me, should I just come down the stairs and make hospitable noises at him, tripping downstairs in my heels.

Let him kiss my cheek in a gentlemanly way, chat with him, and have a drink with him. With Helen watching me closely, to see how real all this is to me? Curiously?  Contemptuously?  Approvingly?  However, check me over! Dealing in her own mind with her husband the girly tranny.  Her sissy hubby.  Oh, God!  How I've dreaded having to face this moment!  But the girl in the mirror didn't seem perturbed!

She looked back at me with an impassive, critical eye, and actually cocked one hip approvingly at what she saw.  Saucily cocked that hip I was wearing the highest heels I have, high happens to be the only kind of heels I have to match the dress I was wearing, rust, and since I was already on my toes, my hips moved rather, undulated easily.  I did look passable, even pretty!  Could I actually get away with this?  Not disgrace myself or Helen by displaying her husband as a freak?  Nothing for it!  I had no choice.

I came down the stairs.  Slowly, shoulders far back, head high, my small chin jutting out as far as it could go I had a 'delicate' face, people were always saying.  My artificial boobs thrust way out ahead of me, I came down the stairs and into the living room.  Helen was sitting there looking up at me with a faintly amused smile on her face, as if unperturbed by this first view of her husband as a woman, and a pretty one at that.

As if accustomed to seeing her girlfriend Denise enters the living room in various states of dress or undress, in various moods, even though this was the first time ever.  "Ah, I see you were planning to go out when we got here," she said. "Don't let us slow you down!"  The young man I took to be 'Jake,' sprang to his feet as I entered, and held out his hand.  He was thin, tall, and I regretted to see, ruggedly handsome.

It was a large hand.  "You must be Denise," he said.  "I've heard so much about you!"  "Yes," I said.  "And you're Jake!  Do you and Helen work together?  You've known each other long?"  "That's right!"  He took over the role of host and handed me the drink they'd prepared while I was still upstairs trying to figure out what to do.  "Double scotch on rocks with only a splash of water, Helen said. What's your drink, right?"  "That's right, thank you," I replied.

She knew.  We'd been married long enough.  I took it from him and took a large gulp before I realized that was unladylike, I had to sip this drink to carry off this deception. But God, did I need it!  It warmed my belly.  My panty-clad, orange silk dress covered my belly.  "I've worked with Helen for about a year now," he said, getting to my question.  "We've seen each other around, and we've worked together on a project or two.  I've asked her to lunch often enough, but she always said 'No.'  Only lunch, but she was reluctant to get too close to me.

I didn't want to push it, and it turns out that the reason she was reluctant is something I admire enormously.

Her scrupulous honesty. She'd been married, she even wore a wedding ring, I suppose to keep other men away even though her husband had gotten obsessed with some woman and practically disappeared and that was that.  She nevertheless respected the institution of marriage.  I was waiting for my divorce to come through, but even so, she wanted nothing to do with a married man.  Business lunches of course, but no other kind.  I was only trying to be sociable my wife and I had been separated already for nearly two years."