Evolution Ch. 01

Chapter 1. Becoming the Wife

Hard to say when it began, exactly; a few years ago, about the time the economy tanked and I spent a couple of years working a job without earning any real income, tramping through New England in desperate search for dealers for a factory out of Pennsylvania. A commission job that wasn't earning any commissions. It must have been around the time I got sick of listening to my wife carping about pee spray on the new white tile walls around the toilet. The easiest solution to the problem, far easier than cleaning the walls after every use, was to sit when I peed and thereby eliminating the complaint. So that's what I started to do. It was sometimes difficult to remember, but after a while it became second nature and what I always did. It felt a little "girlie" to do it, but the cleanliness of the room was preserved, and peace was restored to the house. It became so natural that I sat in public restrooms as well, sitting in the cubicles while the "real men" stood at the urinals with their powerful manly streams of piss echoing off the walls.

Then, gradually over a period of time, half a year perhaps, I noticed that I was doing more and more of the cooking. I'd always prepared the breakfasts, what I'd always considered a specialty, and we'd generally shared responsibility for the rest of the meals. But I began to notice after a time that I was spending more and more time in the kitchen, both at lunch and dinnertime, conjuring up meals as presented in "Gourmet" magazine, for which she'd purchased a subscription in my name. I noticed that most of the time when we had a discussion about the upcoming meal, the general suggestion was something that I knew how to prepare.

She "loved" the way I did the roast chicken. I had such a delicate way of preparing the fish. No one could do the eggplant parmesan like I did. And so I began to cook almost all of the meals. Whether I was working late or not dinner had to be made.

I spent a lot of time in the kitchen. She worried after the clothing I was wearing. "Those are your good work clothes!" She exclaimed one night. "You'd better wear this apron." She pulled a pink and black apron over my head, with little protest, and tied it tightly in the back. This became the normal kitchen uniform. She got me my own apron, kind of a frilly little thing, pink and yellow, with a pocket on the front, above the ruffles.

And, of course, she couldn't load the dishwasher. I'd always done most of the cleanup, first as an offering to assist when she'd cooked, then as a regular feature of my chores. Then it became an assumed duty of mine.

So I found myself cooking and cleaning, accomplishing the "woman's work", in the kitchen, finishing late, clearing the counters and washing the stove. It was only a matter of time before I became proud of my kitchen and enjoyed the time I spent there.

What was going on in the bedroom started to change as well. I'd always enjoyed going down on a woman, that expression of intimacy and giving of pleasure.

And she enjoyed it as well, attaining convulsive orgasms as I happily kissed and licked her beautiful cunt. It had always been a part of our lovemaking.

But after a while it became the focus of our lovemaking. No longer foreplay, cunnilingus became the goal for both of us. I began to live for the feeling of her bucking against my lips and tongue, living for the taste of her, her juices running down my lips and chin, the smell of her beautiful cunt on me, in my tangled moustache, intoxicating me with lust. I was happiest when she wrapped her thighs around my neck, my fingernails caressing her breasts and stomach as I drove my tongue into her.

The concept of mounting her with my diminishing manhood became more and more remote, until it disappeared altogether. It was apparent to me that the lovemaking we'd done, in the normal man-woman missionary way, was more of a bother than a pleasure to her. I remember once, while in the midst of what I'd perceived as hot and sweaty sex, while I was mounting her from behind, she'd turned to look back at me and said, "Well you'd better hurry up. I'm only doing this for you." I kind of sank inside, something broke.

I didn't miss it, really. There had always been some anxiety attached to it. I'd always considered my endowment rather small- ugly and uncircumsized as it was. I didn't really think there was enough of it to really please a woman. So I'd worked on other ways to please a woman, and my lips, which were always kind of plump and full, seemed a natural. I felt wonderful being able to give such pleasure, loved the feeling of going down between the long legs of a beautiful woman and letting her lie back while I serviced her.

I began to explore my feminine side. I experimented with hair removal, shaving my chest hair, trimming my pubic bush and shaving some of the hair from around that region. I removed some armpit hair. And in my online searches, I found out about a Thai herb called "pueraria mirafica" which was purported to enhance breast growth. I found a source for the herb, and began taking pills to grow my breasts. There was modest improvement after eighteen months, but hardly anything earthshaking.

We moved. I took a desk job and my body became soft. In a couple of years I became plump, overweight but not grossly obese. And then the time came when I was diagnosed with high blood pressure. The doctor put me on some pills for it, and advised walking. I was determined to lose weight and diminish the blood pressure problem. I walked every day, first for a half-hour, then an hour, and sometimes more than once a day. I watched what I ate, starting the day with a berry-soy shake, light lunches, no sweets, no bread.

Within a few weeks the pounds started to melt away. Maybe it was the daily soy shakes, made with added flax meal and oil, but it seemed that as the weight dropped away from my waist, my breasts seemed to be getting larger, and my shirts began to feel tight around my chest. The feeling was extremely pleasurable, the weight of my breasts swaying as I took my walks in the evening around my hilly neighborhood. I looked more into breast enhancement, and found several recordings on the internet which promised that with regular listening, my breasts would indeed grow. I began to listen, perhaps a little more than they recommended. And I began to see results. And I began to enjoy the results.

When the lovemaking occurred, which began to happen more and more frequently, I started to savor the juices, feeling the feminine hormones become absorbed by my body. I took supplements, female herbal hormones, and fenugreek because I read that it enhanced breast growth, and soy. My skin became softer, and to enhance that I started using moisturizers, and feminine bathing products.

I ordered new underwear and tee shirts. The underpants are the lightest weight I could find, under the guise of "moisture wicking", they are sheer, black, and feel like a transition to panties. I don't need the "pouch" anymore- my small package is receding into nothing. My next order for panties will be just that- I have already found the source for the same material, in a sheer woman's panty. The tees I ordered were more of the same- "moisture wicking", ultra light weight, silky feeling tight grey, and black, crew tees, tight now on the chest, my nipples proudly protruding through the stretched fabric keeps them in a constant state of arousal.

I have found a source for the same lightweight material in a woman's tee. The only question remaining is whether to get a strap tank or a deep vee-neck, or perhaps both. Maybe in red. Or pink.

Tonight I am waxing my legs. I started to remove some of the hair a week ago- it's been that long at least since I got the home waxing kit at a local department store. I expected more pain in the process, but except for being a little messy, it doesn't bother me at all to be getting rid of the little fur I carry on my ass and legs.

I can't wait for the feel of the smooth skin, the feel of my tight panties, the light pants I wear. Maybe I will look into getting some nylons. I've worn them before, and found it thrilling then, even when I had hairy legs. I want my legs nude now, and want to get rid of all of the hair on my body except the hair on my head, and that hair I want to grow long. Like when I was a hippie back then, down past my shoulders, but this time, styled.

I'm becoming the wife. My legs are smooth and shaved now, electric under the sheets, and under the soft fabric of my pants. Most of the hair is gone from my crotch, a puff of pubes growing under my receding, tiny cock. Chest hair gone. And underarm hair shaved from view, gone.

I am searching for provocative women's clothing on the internet, signing up on sites offering revealing tops, negligee, stockings. I went to one site, I don't remember which one, but a site which asked me to sign up with an email, which I am doing with an email address set up for that purpose. Being a computer, there already was some information preloaded on the site. There was a toggle for "male" and "female". Female was already checked. I did not change it. That "female" was already checked felt prescient, and correct. The change is well under way. I'm becoming the wife.