Hazel, Andy and Mandy

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Crossdressing with jewelry.
2k words
4.03
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I'm going through a particularly good time of my life just now. I have been married to Andy for four months, we have moved into out new flat in town and I have been promoted to department manager. Tonight we are going to a celebratory dinner for the staff of the department store where we both work, me as boss of Ladies Wear and Andy in Accounts.

We helped each other choose outfits; that is not unusual for us. I have always had a reputation for being 'dressy'; I even went through a gothic phase where I outshone all the other Goths in the area. I called myself 'Witch' Hazel. For tonight I chose an electric blue satin gown with my big gold bracelet and a heavy gold neck chain, while Andy wore his charcoal grey suit with a powder blue waistcoat and deep crimson necktie.

The dinner went off well. I treated my members of staff with respect and politeness, and my superiors with grace. I had agreed to be the driver for going home, and it was just as well, for Andy was well on the way to being tiddley when it was going home time.

At home Andy sat on the sofa and started to get very drowsy, and so I urged him to get to bed. I even took his hand and helped him to get undressed. Getting his suit and shirt off gave me a bit of a surprise – he was wearing women's black lacy underwear. My black lacy underwear!! Well, I thought, there's a turn up for the books.

The next day was Saturday, and I wouldn't have brought up the underwear thing, but Andy said, "Sorry about the underwear. Are you upset?"

"Not at all," I said. "I know all about those things. And it's good to know what turns you on."

He looked relieved at my response.

On Sunday morning I woke Andy with a cup of tea and some toast on a tray.

"I've got a treat for you today, I want you to have a shower and a shave – a good shave – and put on those clothes on that chair."

What I had laid out were the black lace knickers and bra set that he wore on Friday; some fluffy, feathery open toed slippers and my pink satin housecoat.

While he was going to make something of that, I went away to get myself dressed. Yesterday I had been to the nail salon and had black falsies fitted. I'm sure Andy had noticed but he didn't say anything. I had also found some of my old Goth gear, and I put on a black 'T' shirt with the words "I'm with Stupid Here" and an arrow pointing to the left. Over that I wore an old black leather bomber-jacket. I remember I had it full of badges, but they all seem to have been lost. I had a super short leather mini skirt, and my old Goth boots. The ones with six large buckles and straps up them from the ankles to the knees, and clumpy Cuban heels.

Now the jewellery: I remember being overloaded with silver – or silver coloured – jewellery. I managed to scrape together enough silver bangles to half fill each arm, and luckily I had kept all the full finger rings I was so proud of. I had ten of them. One for each finger and thumb. In the left hand I put all the rings fashioned like dragons' claws, and on the right hand I had the other sort, looking like a stack of plain bands, but all connected together with a kind of hinge at the knuckle. I also put on some heavy neck chains that hung down to my tits, with a crucifix and other dangly things on them. To finish I put on two pairs of big hoop earrings. Two pairs so that they would clang together with every movement.

I looked at myself in the mirror. It was not quite as I remembered it. Somehow I looked too smart – too tidy, too clean! At that age we all wanted to shock people and to show our independence.

Just then Andy came through. "What's happening here then?" he asked and took in all the gear I was wearing. "Where did all the Goth stuff come from?"

"Oh, I never threw it away. It's what I used to wear back when I was sixteen."

"I was just three then."

"But what did you wear when you were sixteen?"

"Nothing but West Ham football shirts."

"I might have known."

"I like the rings and bangles," he ventured.

"Right. Now we're going to get you all dressed up in girls' clothes, and I'm sure you're going to like that."

I indicated that Andy should sit on the swivel hair by my dressing table, which was rigged like the make-up tables in a theatre. I turned all the lamps on and instructed Andy to wipe his face and neck with face cream, sparingly, applied with a pad of cotton wool.

"While that is soaking in, let me explain that I think you would look good in a crisp white blouse, a flared skirt with a broad cinch belt around you waist. And I think you should be blonde."

"What?" he sounded aghast, "dye my hair?"

"No silly, look over there," and I pointed to a wig on a stand on the side cupboard.

I looked at his face and neck critically. And decided his colouring was very good. Better than my own, in fact. Therefore I selected just the blandest of face powder to dust on lightly with a make-up mop, (that's a big floppy brush actually). And then I added some blusher, just a touch for a natural look. All the time I was applying the make-up, my rings were close to his face, and Andy's eyes seemed to be transfixed upon them. They were just a little cumbersome when unscrewing lids, and when picking out the right brush, but dexterity soon came back to me. I waggled my head a bit and the earrings sounded like church bells, I am sure he was turned on by that.

Next came the eye shadow. For that I chose a turquoise tint, and that colour needs a clearly defined area, not a shaded area that I would do if I had chosen a natural colour.

"Ow!" he shouted as I attacked his eyebrows with my tweezers. "Ow and ow again."

"Now you know what we women have to go through to look good for you men," I said.

The eyebrow pencil came next. Andy was beginning to look good, pretty even. Before applying mascara, I showed him how to put on false lashes. For him I had found the longest, most lush lashes in the shop. And then I loaded on the mascara. I had got hold of a new product that was easily applied, and did not bunch and glue the individual lashes together like some do. All the while kept resting my hand on his face, making sure he could feel the rings at every opportunity. With the blond, shoulder length wig in place, I reckoned he looked stunning.

I couldn't help noticing that there was a conspicuous bulge in his – no,my– knickers. That was one reason that I chose a flared skirt for him - it wouldn't show.

"Now a bit of lippy," I told him. "Pucker up."

He turned and faced me, and I liberally applied the bright red lipstick, followed by the latest in lip-gloss. I could almost see my face in his lips! I really wanted to kiss him there and then, but resisted. During my Gothic phase, I also had a brief period of lesbianism – with another Goth called Jules. So seeing Andy being transformed like this was quite interesting for me.

Two circular bath sponges stuffed into his bra made an acceptable pair of tits.

"You can get false breasts on line," I said. "Would you like us to get some?"

He agreed in a not over enthusiastic manner.

Next I put a girdle round him. The lump in his knickers was all too obvious.

"I hope this game is all about transvestism," I said. "It is isn't it?"

"Of course it is. Wearing your clothes turns me on. What else did you think?"

"I was just a bit worried about you wanting a sex-change. I wouldn't like you to loose your manhood. I need that," and I patted the bulge, bangles jangling.

"So do I."

I showed him how to roll on a pair of stockings, in this case finest sheers. Andy did have good legs for it. Unnecessarily I smoothed them with my hands, being very careful not to let my rings snag in them.

The crisp white blouse had three-quarter length sleeves, and ten pearl buttons up the front. Andy had to do that. The rings on my fingers made me too clumsy. The floral skirt had the-under skirts already sewn into it. He stepped into it and I helped him pull it up and fasten it round his waist, followed by the five-inch wide shine plastic waist belt with the gigantic buckle. I pulled tight, too tight at first and he begged me to loosen it by a couple of holes. That was a pity!

Andy's feet were four sizes bigger than mine, bit I had managed to but some cheap shoes on the market yesterday. They were white with five-inch heels and a strap fastening.

"You'll probably have to learn to walk in these," I said.

"No problem. I used to try on my mum's shoes when she was out. She had some whoppers. I got quite good at walking in those."

The final touches were the jewellery. His ears were not pierced, and I found a pair of large white button earrings, which I clipped on, together with a string of large white plastic beads at collar length and coloured plastic bangles for both wrists. I looked at the final effect, and decided that the bangles looked better all on one arm - the right arm so that they got maximum movement and sound when he moved.

Andy stood in front of the full-length dressing-mirror, looking at himself this way and that.

"What do you think?" He asked.

"I think you look gorgeous. Mmmm! I could eat you. I think when you are dressed like a girl we're going to call you Mmmandy."

"This isn't just a one off?"

"Oh goodness me no. We can explore this thing a lot further in future, but we must plan on getting you some clobber of your own. My clothes won't fit you anyway. Lots of gorgeous, pretty clothes and shoes - yes?"

"And jewellery." Said Andy rattling his bangles.

"Look, it's getting near lunch time. Lay the table would you? I ordered pizza. It should be here any minute. "

The best bit about dressing up is going about normal routines with all the new stuff on. I once spent a whole weekend in handcuffs and leg irons. It brings you face to face with what excites you about the whole business. Andy set about it with great pleasure. I brought out a bottle of Chianti and he opened it.

The doorbell chimed. "Get that!" I said.

"What me? Like this?"

"Yes, you, like that. Why not? Give the delivery boy treat!"

Andy relented and collected the pizza and signed for it.

"He said 'thank you madam'," said Andy.

"I should think so too."

He sliced the pizza and I poured the wine.

"We'll have to repair your lipstick after this," I said, "it turns me on. What turns you on?"

"Your silver jewellery," he said.

"I think I'd like to see you in satin. Full length evening dress."

"I'd like to try that. And anything that goes with sky-high boots." He said.

"Then you could have silver jewellery. Goes well with black doesn't it?"

"Can we screw after lunch? If not I'll burst."

"Nope! You have to potter about the house this afternoon. This evening we can do it. I'm going to suck you until you are dry. And then you are going to bang me until I beg you to stop! How does that sound?"

to be continued.

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2 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousabout 12 years ago
Less X-rated more fun

I love this. The X-rated stuff is fine but there are other ways to approach CD-TG stories and this is a warm and inviting example!

AnonymousAnonymousabout 12 years ago

I like how it's about having fun and not feninizing the male.

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