Miss Jennifer's Sissy Housewife


"So, you're my little wife. My sweet obedient little housewife. And you did all your little chores? Kitchen, dishes all done, my laundry all folded and put away. House completely vacuumed and dusted? Bathrooms, toilets all scrubbed clear?" Her eyebrows were raised inquiringly.

"Yes, dear. Everything's done."

"Hmm. Well I guess I better check and see if you're as worthless as a housewife as you are as a man. Because if you are – then this joke is over. If you didn't do a good job everywhere, then you're going to strip off all those ridiculous girls clothes, wipe that slutty makeup off your face – although I will admit you did a pretty good job on your makeup – you must have been wearing makeup a lot, you seem to have had a lot of practice – and go back to just being a useless little man.

"I have to admit – I never thought I'd feel like this, but I guess I actually hope that you did a good job – having you as my obedient little housewife seems like it would be a lot better than having to put up with you as the ridiculous, worthless little boy that you've always been.

"So fine. Let's go find out. I'll follow you – take me around the house; show me what you've done. And of course I did. Prancing daintily along in my spiked heels, trying to walk as femininely as possible, trying to step in a straight line, daintily putting one foot in front of the other and hoping that it would make my bottom swing back and forth in as feminine a way as possible I led her to the kitchen, then through the living room and other rooms, and down the hall to the bathroom. She ran her fingers over the cabinets in the kitchen, and over the stove top, then over the book shelves and exposed surfaces in the living room checking for dust, and in the bathroom she inspected the toilets carefully. Finally she stood up and gave me a sort of half smile, actually looking pleased.

"Well, Tiffany. We seem to have found your purpose in life. You actually – to my surprise – did a very good job on all your little housewife chores. Everything is great. So I guess I'll keep you this way. You keep everything like this every day – and I mean every SINGLE day – and I'll let you stay as my little housewife. I want my laundry done every day, sheets changed, bed made, kitchen and bathrooms spotless. Vacuum and dust the whole house. And of course take out all the garbage every day. Yep. I think this is going to work. Now – go bring me a glass of champagne, I'm going to lie back down and read some more." And she turned away, dismissing me completely.

Living as Miss Jennifer's Obedient Little Housewife

That was the beginning of my life as a girly-girl, as the dainty, sweet, feminine, submissive little wife I'd always wanted to be.

From then on I lived as my wife's darling little ultra-feminine housewife. I got up well before her every morning so that I could put on my makeup and get dressed as her little wife. I wore eye shadow, mascara, and pink powder blush, oodles of lipstick, lip gloss and perfume every second of every day. I let my hair grow and my wonderful wife told me that when it reached nipple length she'd let me go to the beauty parlor and both have my ears pierced and get my hair done properly. Until then I was to always wear one of my pretty blonde wigs so that I looked properly pretty & feminine. She also told me to be very careful with my nails because when my hair was long enough to go the beauty parlor she was going to let me have a manicure and get my nails painted at the same time.

I got up early every morning and dressed myself properly, first shaving my legs, face, underarms, chest and groin completely, then plucking my eyebrows so that I would be soft and feminine all over. I was never without one of my many satin and lace bras, my huge 54DD silicon filled falsies, a tight corset, nylons, panties and high spiked heels. At first I found it hard to walk around all day in the 5 and 6 inch heels that were the only girl's shoes that I had. They'd been fine for just occasional wear when I dressed up when my wife wasn't home, played with my little peepee until it squirted, and then changed out of them, but for all day every day use at first it was difficult, but I knew that if I was going to be a pretty little housewife I'd have to get used to wearing sexy high heels all the time and eventually I got used to it. It became very natural to spend my entire day doing my wifely chores wearing the high spiked platformed heels that I loved. Every day I did my wife's laundry, put brand new clean sheets on her bed, cleaned the kitchen and bathrooms including scrubbing the toilets, and vacuumed and dusted the entire house, then did the grocery shopping and made dinner.

It was always very embarrassing to have to go out of the house on errands because although I was allowed to wear a tee shirt and jeans, with penny loafers, and I didn't have to wear really a lot of makeup, my wife did insist that since I was, as she put it, "pretending to be a girl", and "pretending to be her little housewife" I had to always wear a bra (without my falsies), corset, nylons and panties whenever I left the house, with just a very light weight plain white tee shirt and jeans over my lingerie.

The tee shirt was so thin that my bra was actually visible through my tee shirt even though she usually let me wear either a pink or white bra and rarely insisted that I wear a black bra. But even when I wore a white bra, it was still visible through my tee shirt, and of course all of my bras were extremely feminine, very lacy and sexy, so everyone who saw me could tell that I was wearing a bra. And even without falsies the cups of my bra still pushed the fabric of the tee shirt out enough in front that it was obvious that there was more there than just my chest.

My wife also never let me wear socks, just my nylons, so for anyone who really looked, you could see the nylons between the bottom of my jeans and my penny loafers. And of course since I was "pretending to be a girl" and my wife said that no proper housewife would ever go out without any makeup at all, I had to wear enough mascara, eye shadow, blush and lipstick so that she could tell that I was wearing makeup when she looked at me. I tried to use as light a coat of mascara, as little eye shadow (always pink so that it wouldn't be as obvious), and as little lipstick and blush on my cheeks as possible. But although it wasn't really, really obvious, anyone who was up close to me – like the checker in the supermarket, or the people at the cleaners, or the cashier at the gas station or the car wash – could definitely tell that I was wearing makeup.

On warm days she'd have me wear really, really short shorts with all sheer pantyhose; shorts so short that they showed off the curve of my bottom and sometimes even a little bit of my panties, and cute little pink tennis shoes, not the designer ones most people wore, but the plain ones popular in the 50's and 60's, in pink. Since my legs were always completely smooth shaven, it was very embarrassing to have everyone looking at my feminized legs in those all sheer pantyhose. Of course I also had to wear perfume since no proper housewife would ever go out without at least a little bit of perfume, and so once again anyone who was up close to me would catch the scent of the perfume, further adding to my embarrassment and humiliation. To make it even more embarrassing for me, she also made me carry my wallet, money, and makeup in an adorable little pink clutch purse so that even if people didn't notice my makeup and perfume, they couldn't miss the fact that I was carrying a cute little pink purse.

What made it even more humiliating was that she wasn't always home when I left the house, or when I got home, but I knew that if she were there when I got ready to leave I had to go say goodbye to her – and pass 'makeup inspection' to be sure that I had on enough makeup to satisfy her. If she weren't there when I left, I knew that she might be there when I got home, so I again had to be sure to be wearing enough makeup to pass my 'makeup inspection' so that if she were there when I got home I wouldn't be punished. She'd warned me repeatedly that if I ever didn't have a sufficient amount of makeup on to pass her 'inspection' she would then make me wear extra heavy makeup – oodles of slutty eye shadow, rouge, lipstick and mascara – so that I would be completely humiliated having to go out with that much makeup while still dressed as a boy.

And occasionally – even if I had on what was usually enough makeup to satisfy her – she would laughingly make me open my purse before I left and add mascara or lipstick or eye shadow or rouge or perfume – or some of everything – so that I would be very obviously wearing makeup when I went out.

I of course had to take all of the laundry to the dry cleaners, including not only my wife's work and club clothes, but also my sexy slutty things and my different maid's uniforms. To make sure that my trips to the dry cleaners were as embarrassing as possible she made me go to a wide variety of different cleaners, so there were almost always new and different people up front at the counter, which meant I almost always had the humiliation of having to take in one of my many maid's uniforms, one or more of my lusciously ruffled petticoats, and lots of sexy slutty skirts and dresses – all while I was dressed as a boy in a tee shirt and slacks with my brassiere visible through the tee shirt, wearing makeup and a slight spray of perfume, and my hair, which grew longer and longer, but still wasn't long enough for me to be allowed to go to a beauty salon and get it properly styled, in a pony tail.

And of course since I was the little housewife, I did all of the grocery shopping, and it was always incredibly embarrassing to walk through one of the many Safeway stores in the city with all my makeup and the strong scent of perfume, wearing those adorably short cutoffs, nylons, and my little pink tennis shoes and carrying my little pink clutch purse while everyone who saw me gaped at me. To make it even more humiliating and embarrassing Miss Jennifer always told me which of the many different stores I was to go to, so it was almost always a new experience, with new people gaping at me, staring at the way I was dressed and made up.

All of which meant that every time I went out I was dressed as a boy, but wearing lingerie under my boy's things and wearing makeup and perfume so that I looked (and felt) like a little pansy faggot, which of course is what I am.

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