My Dream Solution Ch. 01

[Note: This is a long introductory setup to a multi-part story. There is *no* explicit sex in this first chapter. If you are looking for quick, hot read, move on. This is not it. Things will heat up in later chapters, I promise. --Cyanlot]

Chapter 1: When I Hit the "Change of Life"

When Massachusetts became the first state to legalize gay marriage, Todd and I were ecstatic. We didn't have to move to get married; we could do it in our home state. We didn't rush to be among the first to take advantage of the new marriage equality. Better, we thought, to take our time, plan a terrific ceremony and party, and do it right.

And we did do it right. We'd come out to our families long ago and both of us had, at least after the initial shock, received the love and support of our families—Todd more than I, but even my basically conservative family dealt with it pretty well. So, on the day of the ceremony, all the people we were really close to, family and friends, were there.

You might think that, having lived together for five years already, marriage wouldn't make any difference in our lives, but it did. It was a subtle difference, but we both noticed it. We were, now, even more of a couple: Todd and Ron, living in happily wedded bliss.

And then a wrench got thrown into the works. Todd's company offered him a big promotion—great news—but only if he would move to Arkansas—not such great news. Arkansas not only doesn't permit gay marriage, it refuses to recognize gay marriage. And it's not just the legal implications that were concerning. The new position would be in a production facility in a small, mostly rural area that was definitely very red politically, Bible-thumping religiously, and straight-laced socially. A gay couple wouldn't do well in that environment, and there would be special antipathy, we suspected, for a gay couple that thought of themselves as married. We would definitely be moving to "marriage is between one man and one woman" territory.

But Todd already makes the bulk of our income and would make a lot more if he could accept this position. I'm a freelance graphic artist; I can work from anywhere. There wasn't really anything keeping us in Massachusetts, except the quite reasonable desire not to live where people would despise us and the law would discriminate against us. Still, it wouldn't be forever. This was a stepping stone for Todd. A couple or three years successfully managing this facility would put him in a great position to move back to the modern, civilized world, maybe to a choice location overseas.

So it was decided. We both had misgivings—the very same ones. But we both saw that this was an opportunity not to be missed and decided Todd had to accept the position. We'd make it work somehow.

After the decision was made and Todd had officially accepted the new position, we planned a trip to scope out the housing situation. There was no urban area so the hope of finding a progressive enclave—a small community of like-minded, if not like-sexually-oriented people—was a vain one. The apartments that were available weren't great—none of the benefits of city living, but the drawback that your neighbors know too much about what you're doing.

All of this we could figure out from searching on the Internet. It wasn't until we went down to Arkansas to house hunt that we appreciated the full implications of this move for our lives together.

We told Connie, the realtor we'd decided to work with, that we were old college roommates and because I didn't make much money, I needed to share living expenses with Todd. I don't think for a minute that she bought the "just friends" line, but it provided a good cover: she knew, we knew she knew, she probably knew that we knew that she knew, but no one had to explicitly acknowledge our relationship. (Of course, we'd taken our rings off and were careful not to give any indication, even to Connie, that we were married.)

I think Connie was cool with the situation. Good! At least not everyone in this area was a hopeless bigot. And Todd and I were certain that she knew that we were a couple when she gave us some oblique advice. Without ever suggesting that the information was directed at us for practical purposes, Connie managed to steer the conversation around several times to how conservative and straight-laced most of the people in the area were. She even described them as "intolerant" of people who are different from them. One of the first questions we would be asked, she said, is what church we go to. And eyebrows would be raised if the answer was "none," which it would have been without her advance notice. She told us that it would be best if we tried to fit in, or at least appear to fit in.

Todd and I quickly confirmed our suspicion that a gay couple, married or not, wouldn't be welcome here. It might even hamper Todd's work at the new plant. He had to supervise a lot of local workers. He'd be their boss, of course, but it's much easier to supervise people who don't consider you an immoral degenerate.

Todd and I found a few houses that would work. And, man, were the prices terrific! We could afford five times the house we could buy in Boston. While we were still in town on the housing visit, we narrowed it down to two houses. Both were out in the country—not far, but enough to give us some privacy. We went back home, certain that we would buy one of those houses, but very uncertain about how we could live in the area at all.

All the way home on the plane and for days afterward, we talked about what our lives would be like there. We were committed now—it was way too late to turn down the position—we just had to figure out how to make it work.

One morning, I woke up with an idea. (Isn't it funny how that happens? You ponder a problem for days and think you've considered every possible solution. Then, out of nowhere, another alternative comes to you in your sleep. The power of the unconscious mind, I guess.)

It was a wacky idea and I almost didn't have the courage to suggest it to Todd. But, finally, after another long discussion where we'd come up with no good solution, I decided to float the idea.

"What if you don't go to Arkansas with a husband?" I asked. "What is you go with a wife?"

"Sorry Ron, you don't get rid of me that easily," Todd joked. "This isn't worth my switching teams for."

"That's not what I mean." Todd was puzzled. "I mean, what if you and I were to go down there as a husband and wife."

"What? ... What are you talking about?"

"I'm serious. You'd tell everyone that you're there with your wife, that would be the public story. Either of these houses is secluded enough that, when we're alone, we can just live our lives normally."

"But, come on ..." he protested. "It would never work. There will be functions that we'd have to go to as a couple. It's not as if I could always say, 'My wife is under the weather.'"

"I thought of that."

"Yeah ... and what's your solution?"

"Don't laugh," I cautioned. I felt silly now. When I'd first thought of this idea, it hadn't seemed as ridiculous as it was starting to sound as I tried to put it into words out loud. "I figured I could get Alex to help me pass."

Todd didn't laugh, which was good, but he did look astonished. Alex was a friend—well, really more of an acquaintance, one of those people who you knew and ran into because he circulated with people who circulated with you. He was a transvestite, and a damn good one. He could fool just about anyone. Even those of us who knew him well, couldn't help but see him as a woman when he was dressed.

"If anyone can help you do this, it's Alex. But are you sure you want to do it." I could see that Todd was beginning to consider my idea seriously. When you thought about it for a minute, it was easy to see that it solved a lot of problems.

"It's worth a try," I said. Todd didn't raise any objections, which I took to be assent.

"How did you come up with this wacky idea, anyway?" When I confessed that it had come to me as I was waking up one morning, Todd dubbed this my "dream solution," and that's how we referred to it from then on.

I was serious about this, at least about seeing if it might be possible. So I called Alex and set up a time to meet with him. I didn't want to tell him about my plan, my "dream solution," over the phone but I wanted to get going on this so I arranged to meet with him the very next day.

That night, after dinner, Todd suggested that we go to bed early. This was only one, of many, ways that we had of signaling that we wouldn't be going to sleep right away. I found that reassuring. Though I was committed to exploring my dream solution, I was anxious about it. I wasn't at all sure that it would work of course; lots of things could go wrong. But, more importantly, I was worried about what it would do to my relation with Todd if it did work.

Todd and I had one of the best relationships I've seen. You never really know what goes on in other people's relationships, unless they're sharing way too much information. But I didn't know of any relationship—gay or straight—that was closer, more respectful, more egalitarian, or more fun than Todd's and mine.

One of the things I most valued about our relationship was that neither of us was the dominant one, sexually or in other ways. There was no "top" and "bottom". We stood together side by side—close together—facing the world with openness and joy.

What if my dream solution led us to fall into a traditional husband/wife model of interaction? I know that this "traditional model" was never as ubiquitous as it's currently fashionable to portray it. My father and mother certainly didn't have a "traditional" husband-dominant/wife-submissive relationship. But it was still a model that some couples fall into. I valued the best-friends, egalitarian relationship that Todd and I had. I didn't want to compromise that. What is my dream solution turned into a nightmare?

It was because of these sorts of anxieties that I was especially reassured by our lovemaking that night. Todd had initiated the evening's early retreat to the bedroom, but in the bedroom I was completely reassured of the nature of our sexual relationship and, I trusted, the ways that we would continue to interact with each other outside the bedroom.

If anything, Todd was going out of his way to assure me that my willingness to take of the role of "wife," as far as the outside world knew, wasn't going to change anything at the core of our relationship. He was, I think, being especially careful not to be dominant that night.

I was reassured; and I was completely wrong. Things would change, more than I could have guessed, but not exactly in the ways that provoked my anxiety.

Alex and I met the next morning and I found it surprisingly easy to tell him about Todd's and my plan—my dream solution—for dealing with the problem we faced. It's not as if Alex was going to judge us badly. In fact, he was more than intrigued by the project. He looked at me very closely and in a way that I don't think I've been looked at before. I guess he was sizing me up as a potential female impersonator. After a moment, he smiled and nodded. He'd help me ... us ... do this. He seemed to consider it a challenge and one that he was confident he could meet.

"So, when do we start," he asked.

"I don't know ..." I began, but he interrupted me.

"Now!" he said, forcefully. "Let's go."

I couldn't think of any reason to put it off so we were soon in the car and on our way to the shopping mall and some specialty stores that Alex knew well.

"Some things we can get at women's shops and other regular stores," Alex explained. "But to carry this off, you can't just wear women's clothes, jewelry, and make-up. We'll need to go to stores that have specialty items to make men look more like women. And some things we'll need to order online, where we can get a terrific selection."

"Are you all in on this, Ron? Cause it's going to cost you some money."

I told him I was all in, I didn't realize until we'd hit some of the stores how far in that meant. Sheeze! women's clothes are expensive and I needed a lot of them.

We spend the whole day shopping. It would have taken much longer if I'd tried to do this alone. Alex knew the options—what would work on me and what wouldn't—and he was very decisive. At Victoria's Secret, he picked out two weeks' worth of bras and panties and other undergarments that I didn't even know the names of. I had no idea what the difference was between a chemise and a camisole. But Alex did and he picked out everything with only an occasional request for input from me.

I was hugely embarrassed when he told the clerk that the lingerie was for me and we wanted to try some of the things on. He gave me no warning he was going to do that and I was aghast when he did. The clerk was completely professional about it. If she found it humorous or embarrassing, she showed no sign of it. As if this happened every day, she walked us back to a special dressing room in the back of the store off of the storage area, saying that we would have more privacy there.

Once in the dressing room, Alex, with an armful of sheer and lacy lingerie, told me to undress. I was a little hesitant. This felt weird. Todd and I aren't prudish, but we're sure not swingers. We'd been exclusive since we'd been living together. It wasn't some sort of sacrifice for either of us, I don't think. Sure, we were attracted to other men, but we really just wanted to be with each other.

I hadn't been undressed in front of any man other than Todd and my doctor for a long time and undressing in front of Alex felt strange.

"Come on ... come on," he said in a light tone that put me at ease. "I've seen lots of dicks before. I'm not trying to get a glimpse of your equipment—though I'm sure it's fine equipment. We just need to make sure that things fit right."

So, I undressed, stopping with just my underpants on until he told me that I could hardly try on panties over my underpants.

"Okay, nice," Alex said. "Once we take care of your body hair, you'll do fine. You have a pretty good figure."

No one has ever said that to me before. Men talk about their build, not their figure. I'd just never thought about what sort of *figure* I had.

Alex had me try four or five pairs of the panties. I didn't see why I needed to try on more than one to make sure what size fit me. But Alex explained that with the different cuts—bikinis, Brazilian, thongs, briefs, tangas, and a bunch more the names of which I couldn't remember—I needed to try several on.

The putting on and removing of the silky panties had a predictable effect on my cock and I felt myself flush red as my cock rose under my panties.

"Oh, my," said Alex. (I wished he had been enough of a gentleman to simply ignore this, but that wasn't his style.) "I can see that Todd will be in for a special surprise when you dress for him."

"I'm not dressing for him," I replied defensively. "I'm dressing for when we're out in public."

"Well, you might need him to take care of that before you go out. You know, there's only so much we can do to hide bulges down there."

Alex was enjoying teasing me and I thought it best to just let this pass. I was happy, though, when we moved from trying on panties to trying on bras. For each of the bras I tried on, Alex carefully felt inside the cups and I could see him visualizing how they would look filled out with whatever prosthetic breasts he had in mind for me.

After Alex made judicious choices about the panties and bras and I got dressed, we left the dressing room. Alex put some things back, picked up replacement items that he was sure would work now that he'd seen some things on me, and some special stockings and pantyhose. (He said we'd get lots of regular ones somewhere where they were cheaper.)

We went up to the counter to pay and the same clerk waited on us. I wasn't sure whether or not it would have been better to have a different one. This one knew who we were buying for, but I'm guessing a new one would have suspected as much. Maybe it was better to have only one person knowing what we were doing. And, at least she'd shown that she was cool with it.

I wasn't up for doing the dressing room thing in every woman's clothing store that we visited so I convinced Alex to let us buy lots of stuff—dresses, skirts, blouses, pants, and shorts—try them on at home and return what didn't work.

When Alex would try to hold something up to me in the store, I pushed his hand away and told him to use his imagination. He looked disappointed, but went along with it.

After we'd shopped out the mall, we headed for one of the specialty stores that Alex knew. The two clerks greeted him warmly and by name when he came in. The name they greeted him by, though, wasn't "Alex"; it was "Alexis". It was strange to see the instantaneous transformation of Alex when he entered the store and began talking with the clerks. Alexis sounded so "fem"—not just his word choices, but the pitch and intonation of his voice changed.

Alex was dressed in men's clothes, but if you closed your eyes and listened to the conversation, it sounded for all the world like girl talk.

"I've got a project here, girls," Alex/Alexis said. He looked at me and so did the two salesclerks. "Do you think you can help me transform Ron into Ronda?" I hadn't thought at all about what I would call myself as Todd's wife, but I instantly realized how much sense this made. If Todd were to slip and call me "Ron"—or even "Ronny", as he sometimes does—this would never be a problem. These would just be his cute nicknames for me.

"Well," said one sizing me up, "I think we can do a pretty good job on the stuff we do. But you're going to have to work with him on posture, body language, and all that stuff." She looked at me again and said, "You've got a ways to go with him there, Alexis."

I'm not normally slow but it was only then that I realized that the two store clerks must have been transvestites, too. They were big girls, but there was nothing in their looks, their voices, or the way they carried themselves that made that in obvious conclusion. Once I was thinking it, I could see that it was possible. But if I'd just met them in some other context, I never would have suspected. I was starting to have hope that, with Alex's help, I might be able to pull this off.

There was no need to be anything but completely open about what we were there for, of course. We went back to a private dressing area of the store and, after I'd taken off all my clothes except for my briefs, both "girls" went to work trying various items on me.

One of the most important things, they assured me, even more important than breasts, they said (though I couldn't believe that) was to give me a waist. They tried several corsets on me, insisting that I'd need more than one style for different styles of dresses and pants.

As Alex went out to get the clothes we'd bought from the mall, they admired their work in the mirror. It was remarkable what the corsets did to not only give me a waist, but to emphasize my hips. If I squinted, it really did look like I had a decent female figure.

Alex returned with what looked like everything we'd bought at the mall. I thought he was just going to bring in a few bras so that the girls could give me breast forms or whatever those fake breasts are called. But Alex said that if we tried on my dresses and other outer clothes, we could see better which breast forms were right. Besides, we could get the girls' opinions of which clothes worked and which didn't. They were, Alex reminded me, experts.

They insisted that I put on not only a bra, but that I take off my briefs and put on one of the panties, too. "It's important to have the complete look," they insisted. So I found myself for the second time today, and only the second time in many years, stripping completely naked in front of people other than Todd.