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From that time on, whenever and as soon as ever William was at home he became Willow; as he was increasingly when he was out with either Hazel or me, or both of us; soon building sufficient assurance to go out and about alone, in his new persona. I don't know whether on the increasingly rare occasions that he went out as William he wore Willow's underwear under his masculine exterior. I think its likely, there seemed to be a singular dearth of masculine underwear in our laundry. Similarly, from that time on, William eschewed masculine sleepwear and Willow assumed a variety of fetching and overtly feminine nighties and delicate gauzy panties.
Early in the new year following our discovery, one of our senior assistants at the perfumery went on maternity leave.
So William, now more or less completely transformed into Willow, joined the family business. Try as I might I couldn't think of that darling, sweet beautiful creature as my son. And the even closer juxtaposition that ensued from both a shared family and work life, the constantly recurring vision of his slender lithe body under the neat, feminised exterior and the memory of the cock that resided in his delicate panties, continued to fuel the desire that had been awakened the afternoon of our discovery.
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