Ashley, Corsets, Lingerie And Me

 Ashley, Corsets, Lingerie And Me

Ursula calling me mid-day about anything was very unusual. She wanted me to quit work early and meet her at our favorite restaurant for dinner. I asked if she wanted me to change clothes before I came, but she assured me that would not be necessary. While my wife is quite the business woman, I am content writing my books and marketing them online.

She does make four times what I make in income easily, but we have never hurt for money since we got married. I do make enough to support us, a fact she is very happy about. Her income goes back into the business, to make even more for us later, in a way her business is a like an adult toy for her. Keeps her occupied, challenges her creativity and tests her marketing ideas.

She sells custom made corsets. Sewn in the far east to the customer’s exact size. They get to choose the fabric, the trim and one of the many different designs she offers. These are not cheap corsets, most of them selling for five hundred dollars or more. One of her new designs just recently sold for thirteen hundred dollars. Shipping not included.

I was waiting for her at the restaurant, as she is usually late, last minute things to do and customer’s emails to take care of. Most of her business is over the internet, a fact she wants to improve if she can.

I get a toe curling kiss from her and a grope of my male apparatus as she arrived. I did look at her questioningly, not how we normally interact especially in public. Of course, I receive a giggle and she goes on like nothing happened. We managed to order our lunches and she starts to explain what she would like me to do for her. Meanwhile my male thingy is still suffering the effects of her earlier groping.

This particular discussion has already occurred once, but I was able to side step her plans for me. I doubt I will be as lucky this time. She describes her thirteen hundred dollar corset in minute detail, then surprises me as she sold it to a couple but for use by the male in the relationship. They have emailed her back praising the corset and design, then telling her that several of their friends want one for their husbands, but wondering if she had other designs available that might be better suited for a male.

In simple terms she wants me to be the model for her new corset designs, also her new line of Victorian lingerie she wants to make and sell. Since the items have to be made overseas, she only needs detailed measurements now, but when the items arrive she wants me to model them for her internet catalog. I squirm and try and evade answering her. I do not want to be photogtaphed wearing women’s lingerie, no telling who might see one of the pictures and recognize me.

She already is turning on the charm, her smile and her hand rubbing the front of my pants, under the table, making it very difficult for me to focus on what to say. The effects of her earlier groping still prevalent. In a moment of weakness I consent to her wishes. Immediately I am enveloped in a passionate embrace her mouth probing mine as her tongue plays with mine. Gawd, I hope I can live through this, in the short term maybe livable with, but in the long run no telling what I have left myself open for.

When lunch was over we headed off to her boutique. I was planning to leave my car at the restaurant coming back later to pick it up. My wife vetoed that right away, she will follow me home, then I can ride with her back to the boutique. With my car at home it is only a fifteen minute ride back to the boutique.

During that time she was telling me how she wants to move the boutique to the house, building on to the back of the house facing the street behind us. I mentioned it would save on the rent for the boutique, her nodding her head in agreement. I did mention it would be expensive to add on, she just smiled, she already has a contractor, willing to do the work in trade for some lingerie for his wife and daughters.

That must be some lingerie, to add up to the cost of an addition. Once back at the boutique she helps in getting me undressed, junior getting his jollies as she manipulates him back between my legs. A pair of panties to help hold him there and then she drags me to her corset frame.

When she first started the business I helped her set it up and of course I got tricked into trying it out. I reached up to the top of the frame and grabbed a hold of the bar up there. The sooner that I get this over with the sooner I can retreat to a more mundane existence.

My helpful wife hooked the straps around my wrists, securing me to the bar. Then she pressed a button on a remote and the bar raised leaving me now a couple of inches off the floor. Its purpose was to stretch out the body so an accurate measurement could be made of my waist, hips and chest. She took her sweet time making the measurements, but also performing several more measurements I was not expecting. Before she was done I had been measured in every place imaginable.

She played with junior for a little while, making sure I was not angry with her for taking so long. Whenever she does this I lose track of anything I was thinking about, so by the time I was released I barely could tell you my name. I am sure I have one, but it escapes me at this moment. I ended up on the lacing frame for over two hours as she measured me then played with my male organ.

Several times I was so excited that I almost came, but with a wicked smile she always knew when to back off leaving me so frustrated and almost in tears. The panties did help some keeping the hardening organ from sticking straight out, but the silky fabric rubbing over my little fella added to the distress of the situation.

Once released from the frame I made a hasty retreat to her bathroom at the boutique, just trying to move him so I could pee left me spurting all over the place. She stood in the doorway smirking at me, while handing me a roll of paper towels to clean up my mess.

Red faced I looked for my clothes, hoping to cover my nearly naked body and allow junior to assume a normal position between my legs. I still had the damn panties on, my organ still half erect nestled in his silky nest. I never did find my shirt or pants, my wife handing me a dress to slip on.

I hesitated, not wanting to go this route. Before I could escape she had the dress over my head and it was settling down on my shoulders. A quick raising of the zipper at my back and I was encased in the dress. It did feel good, the fabric similar to the panties, soft and silky. She helped me slip on a pair of heels, that she just happened to have there, in my size. They had a buckle on the strap that secured them to my ankle.

When I saw her approaching me with a lipstick in her hand I tried to evade her, the heels stopping that effectively. She applied two coats to my lips, brushed out my ponytail and moved it higher on my head, then dragged me out to her car. I was helped into the car, her help necessary to keep me upright. I had a bad feeling where this was heading, figuring our home was not to be the destination tonight.

Sure enough Ursula headed right to our favorite restaurant, extracting me from the car and leading me inside. Red faced again, I am sure the color this time was much more vivid, since everybody here knew us. My chair was held for me, and I was addressed as a female the entire time we were eating.

Ursula was informing me of all of her ideas concerning the corsets and lingerie for males, excited that I had agreed to help her launch the new line. Unfortunately, there was so much more involved than I had figured, personal appearances, and even some TV advertising were in her plans. My appetite had vanished, all of this just too much to comprehend, much less endure. She did assure me that she had put a rush on the order, the items for me to model should arrive before the end of the week.

I did survive the restaurant outing, although the long term effects of it are yet to be realized. A lot of our friends ate their regularly, several of them coming over to see me in my new attire. My wife introduced me as her model for her new line of Victorian Lingerie for the male gender. She used the name Ashley when referring to me. I have no idea where that name came from, since my male name is Henry, named after my Father.

There was lots of talk about the lingerie, about how good I looked in my dress, wanting to know when they can see me in my corset and my new line of lingerie. I just sat there, not knowing what to say and dreading the inevitable. The females were looking at me, visualizing what I may look like dressed in the lingerie, their husbands just smirking at my situation, maybe not laughing but damn close to it. I knew I could never interact with them in the future, my status as a member of the male gender now destroyed forever.

Back home the feminine role continued, the dress removed but replaced with a nightie, one that I had not seen her wear before. The panties remained, her checking often to make sure junior was safely residing in his silken nest. Lipstick refreshed then put to bed, her laying right next to me, her arms keeping me cuddled close to her. Several large sighs escaped my lips, maybe tomorrow will allow a return to my normal existence.

I had to wake her the following morning, the need to pee demanding a release from her embrace. After flooding the toilet I returned to the bed, hoping to get some sleep. Her playing with me last night kept me from sleeping soundly, every time I managed to dose off she would start again making sure I was properly stimulated. If it wasn’t junior that was being fondled it was one of my nipples in her mouth, or her hands in my hair wrapping tufts of it around her finger. I did make it back to the bed, but she was wide awake now, anxious to continue her manipulation of my body.

I was startled by a noise from the back of the house, Jennifer squealing as she jumped from the bed and made her way to the back door. That is where I found her, the image through the window of the back door unbelievable. It looked like a part of a house was moving sideways getting closer and closer to our house. Jennifer turned and hugged me, telling me the contractor promised the addition by tonight and he is right on time.

I stared at her, not believing what she was saying. It turned out that the contractor was using a ready made addition and then attaching it to our house. At least that is what I managed to ascertain from Jennifer. Dressed as I was I was not going out to question the contractor as to any specifics. One of their workmen coming to the back door sent me scurrying back to the bedroom, my nightie not offering much to cover me up. Jennifer had slipped on a robe so she was somewhat decent. I head them talking as I ran down the hall, not wanting to be seen like this.

Jennifer came to check on me, giggling at my sudden retreat to our bedroom. She told me that I had an appointment today, so that my appearance would not require a disappearing act in the future. Proud and female in appearance would be the watch words in the future. I closed my eyes, what I had feared apparently already planned by my wife.

I was helped in dressing, the outfit she had chosen for me quite feminine. A little makeup after she had cleaned off the remains of last night’s lipstick. She had managed to smear her earlier application real good, the kissing last night quite intense. Then out to her car and then to her salon.

I was to go in and tell them that Ashley was here for her appointment. I don’t want to hear anything from the ladies about you being difficult. I will check with them when I return tonight to pick you up. Be good delivered along with a hug and another probing kiss on the lips. I was undressed in a separate room in the salon, my clothes gathered up to give to my wife. She had come into the salon to get my clothes, a huge smile as she turned to leave. It was like she had forgotten soemthing important, but remembered in time to correct the mistake. I was left with nothing to wear if I decided to skip the transformation. Fat chance of that.

Just like that she was gone, leaving me naked and subject to the planned treatments for me. They wasted no time, a whitish cream applied all over my body even my face and eyebrows receiving their share. I was left standing there for over thirty minutes as the cream did its thing. Now totally hairless except for the hair on top of my head. I breif glance in a mirror showed the stark difference in my appearance.

If that was all that was being planned for me, it would be livable with. But several of their technicians descended on me, and soon lots more changes were started. My nails were lenthened and polished, makeup was applied, a semi-permanent product only requiring a touch up to keep it fresh and effective. I did get a look at the new me in makeup, closing my eyes right away, the image so feminine and sexy.

My body was also worked on, as they started doing things to it I conveniently passed out, the female sex being added to my groin and the two breast forms laid on my chest more than enough incentive to shut down operations for awhile. Unfortunately, waking up and seeing the finished product is just as bad.

The look of my new sex is so realistic, it is like I am looking at my wifes sex, but on my body instead of hers. I think I still have a male organ someshere, but have no idea where it might have been hidden. Of course the tech had to show me that my sex was fully operational, a finger inserted in it causing numerous feelings to assault my mind. Fifteen minutes later the feelings were being felt, even as the finger had been removed.

Gawd how am I going to deal with this? I am stark naked, the lingerie I am to model sure to make all of this much worse.

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