Wonderful Wife

A great story by Vicky Tern:
Be a houseboy
". . . That pleased her enormously. "Well, Samantha darling, it's sweet of you to admit that. I think there's a chance that this just might work out. We're being women full time now, remember, from now at least until we come back from our weekend at the Avalon, so there is nothing inappropriate you can do that pertains to being a woman, and nothing appropriate you can do that pertains to being a man. Remember that."

I nodded solemnly. I wasn't a good enough actor to act out being a girl, I decided. Pretending won't persuade anybody. So I'll try to do it her way.

"From now on you'll want to do feminine things with no hesitation, Samantha, and surrender yourself into them, and feel natural about it. Even pleased. You'll see. It'll be a little like walking through a narrow door into a widening corridor leading finally outside to a different world. A woman's world. Liberating yourself -- your word, baby -- into that world. I think it's a wonderful world. You'll see for yourself. Today you pass through the door. Here, let me show you how to wrap a turban around your hair so we can do our exercises. We'll do them naked. There'll only be us girls here, right? You're one of us now, remember that!"

It felt strange high-stepping and weaving my shoulders and shaking my bootie and my chest with all those women on the tape, all the while completely nude, Debbie right next to me doing the same thing in her deliciously girl way, also nude. I saw that her slim waist curved to wide hips with her pussy plumb in the middle, and her firm-breasts gently bobbled with each hop or twist or step. The girls on the tape had the same proportions even though their bodies were held firm by leotards or tank suits.

There was a full-length mirror on the wall of our game room. I could see that I needed still more fluidity, more grace, in comparison with the other girls, and I tried harder. The TV girls in spandex and Debbie in her skin were all round places and graceful bulges and cute curves. By the end of the session I was beginning to feel vaguely that I was the wrong shape -- too skinny, straight-as-a-stick, my waistline too large for my hips, my hips too narrow to swing wide around both sides of my groin the way the girls' hips did. And while my shoulders weren't too broad -- they never had been -- I was flat-chested. I had none of the beautifully curving mounds the TV girls showed proudly, nor was my flesh hanging softly down, yet uplifted to large pink nipples like Debbie's. Only jouncing balls and a floppy cock. I felt somehow wrong, as far as dancing to the exercise tapes went. Debbie and the other girls looked impressive whether standing or moving. Neatly composed. I looked unattractive. . . ."