Hair Banger's Ball

I had always considered myself a man's man. Not so much a player or a hustler, but a gentleman. I was taught to be respectful of women; to be chivalrous, despite the growing trend of women being strong and independent. I of course did my best to respect their independence from men, but at the same time couldn't stop myself from offering assistance if a woman was in need.

I considered myself to be a nice guy, and as a nice guy, I often finished last. I can't count how many times I had lost a girl to the bad boy, the renegade, the rebel, the gangster wannabe. No matter how many times it happened though, I never changed my approach to women.

As such, I almost never got laid. I didn't lose my virginity until college, and even then I think it was a pity fuck. At least she was way out of my league, and being my first time, I can only imagine how disappointed she was. It's not like I am unattractive or unpopular. I was always in the popular crowd throughout school. Just close enough to be friends with all the attractive women who were having sex with just about everyone except for me.

I was never the star athlete, but I was athletic. I lettered in baseball and swimming. Not your typical sports combo, but I made it work. And I'm not ashamed to say that I looked pretty decent in a speedo. I still do. I'm average height, 5'9" to be specific and 150 pounds. I was more muscular in my college days, but I'm still in good shape and could squeeze into my college banana hammock in a pinch if I had to and not be embarrassed.

I'm 28 years old. I have a great, well paying job, and somehow, a smokeshow of a wife. I fully realize that she was the type that ran the gamut of sexual encounters before settling on me before her looks faded and she became an old maid. She has openly admitted that she was pretty wild in college and her early 20s. I haven't asked for all the details, but I know she's had lesbian encounters, three-ways, and has at least once been in something called an "Eiffel Tower." I had to look that one up on Urban Dictionary.

My wife, Tasha, is 27. She's 5'6", 115 pounds, with impeccable D-cup bolt-on breasts, which she got from her mom as a 21st birthday present. She is everything that you'd expect from an "it girl." I still wonder how I ended up even dating her, let alone married.

Our sex life is fairly vanilla, not because I'm not willing to try things, but because I'm just really inexperienced and somewhat self conscious when it comes to trying something new. Anything we have done that is even remotely risqué has been at her recommendation. Typically she will suggest something, I'll initially balk at the idea in fear of not living up to her expectations, but eventually she'll wear me down and get me to agree to some muted form of her original suggestion.

I know what you're probably thinking, "Dude, she's cheating on you every chance she gets."

That thought has definitely crossed my mind on more than one occasion. I have confronted her with those fears, but she has always told me that she had gotten all of that out of her system in her younger days. All of her suggestions are for my benefit. I accept that, but I'm not entirely convinced.

Just this past week, Tasha had asked me if I would be interested in wearing fishnets the next time we had sex.

After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I said, "Why would I ever be interested in wearing fishnets during sex, Natasha?"

She frowned and shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno. Alexis told me that she was fucking a guy who loved to wear them when they fucked. I thought you might want to try it."

I gave her a simple no, and she left it at that. Tasha may have mentioned her friend Alexis, but in my head all I heard was, "I used to fuck a guy who wore fishnets when he fucked me, I kinda miss it and I want you to do it." I never told her that, but she didn't mention it again until today.

"Shane, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Would you please consider wearing fishnets the next time we fuck...for me?"

There it was, I thought. The truth comes out.

"Let me guess," I scoffed, "one of your concubines used to do that and you want to relive it?"

I couldn't believe I had actually said that out loud. I usually keep my insecurities to myself.

The look Tasha gave me was one I had not seen before. She was hurt.

"I did NOT have concubines. Just because I was a bit wild, does not mean that I was a free-use whore."

"I'm sorry," I apologized, "but where is this coming from?"

"Truthfully?" She asked.

"Yes, truthfully!" I demanded.

"Alexis isn't fucking a guy who likes to wear fishnets. It's actually something I've always wanted to do, but never have. I have asked several guys, but they've always turned me down."

"I can't imagine why." I laughed.

"Think of it this way," she changed tactics. "You enjoy it when I dress up for you in lingerie and stockings, right?"

"Yes."

"And you like the way my stockinged legs feel when they rub against you, right?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, I imagine it would feel doubly good if we were both wearing stockings."

I scoffed at her. "I can see your logic, but I'm not sold. Are you sure you're not trying to turn me into one of your girlfriends?"

Tasha shied away and shrugged. "Not exactly...I mean, it would be a little like being with another woman, but I've never been with a woman with a dick, and no woman I've been with has ever been in stockings. I just thought it would be hot."

I sighed and let my shoulders fall. "Fine, if it means that much to you, I'll try it."

Tasha immediately lit up with a huge smile. "Great! I already picked up a pair for you!"

Tasha walked over to the counter and pulled a package out of a bag and held them up for me.

"Babe, I said I'd do it, but I didn't think you meant right now."

"Why not?" she frowned. "I'm already wearing the same thing."

I looked at my wife with intrigue as she pulled down her jeans to reveal a pair of lace gartered fishnet stockings and no panties. She was fully waxed and tanned. My cock immediately stirred in my pants.

"You certainly know how to get what you want, I'll give you that."

She wagged her finger for me to come to her.

"Come here baby. Let's get you out of those uncomfortable jeans and into something lacy and sexy."

She pulled me into a passionate embrace and guided my hand directly to her vulva. I went weak in the knees as she held my hand against her and kissed me for a solid minute. She pulled away and shimmied the rest of the way out of her jeans, took me by the hand, and led me to the bedroom, stripping off the rest of her clothes as we went.

"Alright you! Strip!" Tasha commanded.

I slowly removed my shirt, unbuckled my belt and stepped out of my jeans and boxers, leaving me naked in front of my wife. After her little demonstration I was standing at a fully erect six inches.

Tasha opened the bag that held the stockings and handed them to me. I grabbed them by the waistband and unsuccessfully tried to guide my foot into the stocking hole.

"No, no, no!" She laughed. "Like this."

Tasha showed me how to bunch up the stocking and start at the toe before slowly rolling the material up my leg instead of trying to cram my foot down the hosiery. Once I got them pulled all the way up, Tasha straightened my garters and adjusted the waistband so it laid properly. I felt ridiculous, but I had to admit, they did feel good. My cock twitched at the feeling of the soft lace as it brushed against the tip of my cock.

"What do you think?" my wife asked.

"They do feel nice, but I look silly."

"I don't think so. I think you look kinda hot."

Tasha grabbed me by the cock and pulled me on top of her as we fell onto the bed. She rubbed her legs against mine which made a soft brushing sound as the nylon and polyester materials rubbed against each other.

"I need you inside of me," Tasha whispered into my ear.

She was already dripping wet. I pushed myself against her opening and easily slid inside. Tasha wrapped her legs around mine and grabbed my back with her long nails. She met each of my pelvic thrusts with one of her own, moaning and panting all the while.

I've never had much stamina, but the feeling of nylon on my legs had me more aroused than usual and I quickly reached the point of no return.

"Im...I'm gonna cum," I mumbled.

"Do it baby!" Tasha urged. "Cum in me."

I immediately unloaded my sperm inside my wife. Three quick spurts and one long one and then I fell on top of her. Her breasts heaved as she clenched and unclenched her vagina on my cock.

"How did that feel, baby?" She cooed.

"Surprisingly good!" I said between breaths.

"See, I told you you'd like it."

Tasha gently stroked my back as she helped me to recover.

"I want you to keep that in mind when I make another request, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed.

She rolled us to the side and moved her hips so that I finally slid out from inside her, before touching my face with her free hand.

"Good, because here it is. I want to role swap with you."

"Uh, okay." I stuttered. "What does that mean?"

"It means that you'll be the woman, and I'll be the man. You look so hot in those stockings that I want to see you fully feminized. It is something that I have always wanted to try."

"You're just full of surprises today, aren't you?" I said with a smirk.

She shrugged.

"Well, I did enjoy this more than I thought I would...and it's not like anyone else will see me all dressed up, so why not."

Tasha broke eye contact and looked down.

"Well, that's where you're wrong."

"Come again?" I said, not believing what I jad heard.

"Well," Tasha started, "Alexis is having a costume party this weekend. The theme is legends of rock and roll, and I thought it might be fun if you went as the girl and I went as the guy."

"Will everyone else be joining in on the gender bending costumes?" I asked, skeptical of her response.

Tasha's silence was all I needed to know the answer.

"Then that's a no from me babe. I'm not going to be the only guy dressed as a woman." I tried to be as stern as possible in my decision. Unfortunately it backfired.

My wife rolled her eyes. "Oh get over yourself. No one is going to think you're any less of a man because you went to a costume party in drag. Besides, you'll be with me, and I'll be sure to make it worth your while at the end of the night. I just thought it was a nice excuse to give it a try, but if youre too much of a man..."

She was laying on the guilt trip really thick.

"Fine...fine! I'll do it. You can stop. Who will I be going as, Britney Spears?"

Tasha laughed. "No offense babe, but you're no Britney Spears, although I'd love to see your legs in that Hit Me One More Time skirt."

"Then I'm assuming you have something in mind?" I asked.

"I do," Tasha smiled. "What do you think about Shania Twain?"

"A sports bra and yoga pants? I guess I could do that."

"No, no, no." She giggled. "I was thinking the Man, I Feel Like a Woman outfit. Black nylons, thigh high boots, black mini skirt, a white button up, long black gloves. We could get you a red wig and a top hat and I could do your makeup to look just like hers. I would go as one of the back-up dancers. Tight red shirt, leather pants, and black boots."

"I do like that outfit." I admitted. "But there's no way I can pull that off."

"If you agree to it, I'll make sure you can pull it off." Tasha said with confidence. "Will you do it?"

I reluctantly agreed. I wasn't excited about it, but it made her happy and I couldn't lie, I was excited about whatever she had planned for when we got home. Having sex in the fishnets was really hot, so I was definitely intrigued with the full nylons. Still, I expected that I would end up looking more like a $2 whore than anything remotely resembling Shania Twain.

Throughout the next week, I played along and just went with everything Tasha brought up. Part of me was excited, but deep in my gut the butterflies were getting to be unbearable. I knew there was just no way that I'd be able to go through with it. I wanted to be able to be the man, or woman, that my wife wanted me to be, but it just wasn't in me. I figured that I'd go along with everything until I got uncomfortable and then pull the plug. We could always switch costumes and still have a good time, and besides, I would love to see Tasha dressed in that Shania Twain costume. She'd be the hit of the party for sure.

As the week progressed, Tasha would occasionally come home with different pieces of the outfit. On Monday it was the thigh high boots and black gloves. On Tuesday the dress and pantyhose. On Wednesday it was the overcoat. I'd asked her about the button up shirt, but she kindly reminded me that it was a men's white shirt that she wore, and that one of mine would suffice, but that I wouldn't be wearing it for long, if at all.

Nothing was brought home for me on Thursday, but Tasha assured me that the final pieces would be here on Friday via Amazon delivery, just in time for the party on Saturday. My nerves got more and more on edge the closer we got. Tasha seemed to become more energized by the day, but I was getting cold feet. By Friday I was convinced that I'd just put on the pantyhose and then chicken out, but then the package showed up. My wife showed me the tophat and wig that I was to wear, and a pair of 36D breastforms.

"I'm not wearing that!" I protested.

"Well, I don't see how you're going to get by without them. You won't fill out the dress if you don't wear them. Besides, Shania has nice boobs. We can't have you showing up flat chested."

"I...I don't care. This has gone too far." I complained.

"Oh grow up Shane! It's a costume party. No one is going to care that we role swapped. Get your panties out of your ass and loosen up and try to have fun for once."

She was right, of course. I was overreacting. I apologized and told her I'd try, but deep down, I still knew I couldn't do it. I decided to head to bed early and try to sleep off my fears.

The next morning, I headed for the shower as soon as I woke up.

"Hey babe! I left you a razor in the shower. You might want to shave off all that body hair while you're in there." Tasha called out from the bed.

"What? You're kidding me, right? You want me to shave?"

"Well, yeah! Legs, arms, chest. We can't have you looking like a sasquatch."

I threw my head back and sighed in exasperation. When I got in the shower I found a women's Venus razor and shave gel waiting for me. I lathered up and did my best. The chest and arms were easy, but the legs were another story. I nicked myself on the first pass. It stung like a son-of-a-bitch and got blood all over the place.

Tasha walked in and saw the mess I made.

She laughed, "Now you know the trouble us women go through for you men. Don't forget the backs of your legs, babe."

I just scowled in return. The back of my legs were even more difficult than the front, but they were definitely less sensitive and thankfully I didn't have any more cuts. Tasha inspected me when I got out of the shower, however, and made me touch up a few spots that I missed.

"There...how does that feel?" She asked.

I grimaced. "It's feels...weird. I don't know how to explain it. I don't dislike it, but it's almost like my legs feel cold, even though I'm not cold."

"Of course they do. You're not that hairy, but even the amount you had was certainly insulating you a little bit. You've had hairy legs since puberty." Tasha smirked. "I bet that once you get used to it, you'll want your legs shaved all the time."

"I don't know about that," I laughed, "but I can see it feeling nice in the summer time. What's next?"

"Nothing for now. A few hours before we need to leave, I'll have you go shave your face while I get myself ready. Then I'll work on your makeup."

The morning and afternoon went by in a blur. I watched the early ALDS baseball game between the White Sox and Astros in an attempt to butch up before my wife feminized me for the evening. She went to our room to get herself ready around the 5th inning and came back just before the bottom of the 9th. To say that I didn't even recognize her was an understatement. I had no idea that she could transform someone the way she had herself.

I was almost certain that a man was standing in front of me. First off, she had absolutely nailed the costume. The tight red shirt, black patent leather pants, and black boots looked like she had gotten them off the models from the video. I was impressed with the costume, but it was her hair and face that had my jaw on the floor. I had expected her to still look like a woman, but my wife Tasha was gone and in her place was a muscular, short haired man with a five o'clock shadow.

"How? Just how? Where's your hair? How'd you get stubble?" I stutted, dumbfounded.

"I told you I was good." Tasha laughed. "For the hair, I just put on a bald cap and then a men's wig. That was easy. I contoured my face to be more masculine, and then painstakingly drew on the beard with a fine point eye-liner pen."

"What about the muscles?" I asked. "Did you hit the gym hard the past hour?"

"Oh!" She laughed again. "I didn't tell you. I got a muscle suit from the same place I got your breasts. Come here and give them a feel!"

Tasha pulled up her shirt to display an impeccable set of silicone and latex abs. I stood up and got a closer look.

"Give this a squeeze." She said as she flexed her left bicep.

I obliged. "Wow! It feels more realistic than I expected."

"Play your cards right tonight and I may show you more." My wife snickered and gave me a wink. "But than means you're up. Come with me and I'll get you ready for your big debut."

My stomach sunk and my legs buckled. I knew it was coming, but I hadn't quite prepared myself for the reality of it all. Each step felt queasier than the last. By time we reached the bedroom, I could hardly stay standing and had to sit on the bed next to all of the items I was now expected to wear.

"Well," Tasha started, "are you excited?"

"More like terrified." I muttered back in response.

"You'll feel better once we get started."

I nodded and reached for the silky looking pantyhose that were laid out. I held them up in front of me and admired their soft and shiny texture.

Tasha reached out and took them from me. "It's not time for those yet." She laughed. "We don't want you to ruin your pantyhose while getting ready. Why don't you put on the breasts and then I'll do your makeup?"

"Really? I figured makeup would be last." I questioned.

"No, no. I don't want to get any on your costume, and I can't do it before you pull that breast form over your head. It would smear all my hard work."

Of course I'd have to start with the breasts. That's the part that had me the most nervous to begin with. I wanted to back out and go to my original idea of swapping back to our normal gendered costumes, but we were beyond that. Tasha had gone above and beyond on her male costume, and this was the only option I had. I picked up the breast form tentatively and marveled at how heavy they were.

"These things weigh a ton!" I exclaimed.

"They are D cups. I carry mine on my chest every day. I think you can handle it for an evening."

I did as I was told and tried to squeeze into the extremely tight fitting latex vest. I was able to get my head into the neck and my arms into the arm holes, but was unable to pull the back of the vest down. Tasha helped me to get them on straight and made sure everything was in place. I was astonished at how lifelike they were. The skintone was a perfect match to mine, a very light skinned Caucasian with small imperfections and freckles. Even the latex was textured to look and feel just like real skin. The massive silicone D cups bounced and swayed when I walked.