Darren falls off the feminine wagon

The smell of the closet hit me as I crossed the threshold slowly. There was a smell that didn’t come from men’s clothes. It was a hint of perfume, a hint of something and it clung to the air so deeply that I could almost see the pink fumes of femininity hanging in the air and entering my nose as I took a deep breath. My hand reached out and the tips of my fingers softly brushed along the outfits that were stuffed into what had become too small of a closet for my wife’s collection of outfits.

My eyes looked around the room and I was struck with how little I truly understood this part of my wife’s world. Each item was clearly put in a specific space, the colors and styles matched to create a rainbow of fabrics that made my head spin. With the song repeating along through the earbuds I tore my eyes away from the racks of clothes and tried to center my mind. I felt like everything was in a fog as I stared down at the ground. Taking deep breaths, I fell back into my mantra.

I caught it at the end of the last run through and repeated along with the line. “Dressing feminine feels sexy.” Just saying the words out loud made me think back to what Melissa had been wearing when she left that house that morning. The white dress and the nude heels. My mind spun through the mantra as it started up again, but for the first time since I started listening to it, I wasn’t focused on it as I repeated the phrases. My mind seemed almost stuck on the last phrase of the mantra.

“I am comfortable.” Melissa’s outfit from that morning had been incredibly sexy. I had always been more than comfortable seeing her dressed up like that when she went out. I knew that I was the man she came home to, I was her husband. I couldn’t help but feel there was something off about the way she had dressed to go to work today. It seemed so different from what she had been wearing when she had been in the office more regularly. Of course, that had been years ago, so perhaps my memory was wrong.

“I obey those I love.” The image of her outfit slipped and became the vision of her giving her instructions to me as she left that morning. The sound of her nude heels on the floor as she strutted out looking perfect. A frown gathered at the sides of my face, had she looked perfect? Something about her outfit bothered me, and I couldn’t put my finger down on exactly what it was. The white dress had looked stunning, her soft smooth legs were one of her best assets and she knew it in that outfit.

“I will dress to please those I love.” My eyes lifted off the floor of the closet in front of me and swept over to look at the stacks of high heels boxes that made up her shoe collection. I had always had a thing for a girl in tall stiletto heels and I had been lucky enough to marry a woman who wasn’t only willing to wear them, but enjoyed it. Even if they did make her taller than me. Had Melissa been dressing to please those she loved? That question in my mind sparked a sudden realization. I knew what was bothering me now.

“I trust those I love.” I trusted my wife to know fashion better than I did. But those nude heels and the white dress she had been wearing just didn’t go perfectly together in my mind. I knew they were some of her shorter heels, she refused to wear anything lower than 4 inch heels. I had no idea why, it had always seemed arbitrary before. Yet today, I think I understood. Those shoes looked easier to walk in than the pairs of hers that I thought of as fitting the outfit better. My eyes scanned the boxes in front of me. Immediately I saw three different shoes that would have gone better. Knowing better than to touch the tan boxes with the stylized L on them, I grabbed the third box.

“I feel sexy.” The nude heels had looked amazing on Melissa but they certainly weren’t her sexiest heels. Opening the top of the box I reached in and pulled out the tall black velour stiletto platform heels. My hands shook slightly as I pulled out the pair of heels that my wife wore when she truly wanted my attention. The 16cm stiletto heel was the tallest of her shoes, but she had told me repeatedly that they were easier to walk in than her other more expensive designer shoes. I turned from the closet and walked back out to the bedroom. Sitting down on the bed I stared at the shoes in my hands.

“Dressing feminine feels sexy.” What was sexier than a pair of high heels like these? Black and white were a perfect combo to set each other off. And the pop of color would have made her legs shine even more. Without thinking, I pulled a foot up and attempted to slip it into the shoe. To my immense surprise, it slipped in perfectly. I had known that we were of similar sizes, but I had expected that perhaps her shoes would be a different story. With the first going so well, I quickly slipped into the second.

The mantra in my head continued as I stood in my bedroom, a long curly red wig on my head, a full face of makeup, my body freshly shaved and lotioned, while wearing a pair of my wife’s sexiest shoes. Standing up had taken more effort than I expected, and I could feel the burn in my calves already from the change in foot position. I suddenly felt it though. I understood what she saw in wearing them. I knew what I had seen in her wearing them, but there had always been a part of me that wondered if she only wore them for me. I could feel the power, the way they changed my legs. I smiled as I thought about how they would look with the long tight dress I had on earlier. Grinning, I leaned down to pick up the panties off the floor.

Trying to do that in 16cm stilettos when you had never worn high heels before was a mistake. At first it was just a slight wobble in my ankle, then I could feel a pressure in the side of my knee. Knowing that fighting through that was a bad idea, I let nature take its course. Falling backwards onto my naked ass, my legs splayed out in front of me. The jolt of falling to the ground did more than just humble me though. My wig went flying. The bright red hair had been put in place with the expectation that I would be sitting in a chair all day, not doing tumbling routines. Not only did the wig go, but the earbuds joined it in deserting my body.

I winced as I sat there leaning up against our bed. My hands reached down and pulled the stilty heels off my feet as I took a deep breath. The situation was ridiculous. My eyes flitted around the room to the mess of clothing and shoes that now littered the floor. My outfit from that morning, the tall stiletto heels, the bright red wig. It looked like something you would see from a shot for Drag race. Suddenly embarrassment flooded my system. What the fuck was I doing? Why had I allowed it to go this long? Sure, dressing feminine made me feel sexy, but I was a man! I didn’t need to feel sexy. My wife was sexy enough for the both of us. Even if she would have looked sexier with these heels instead of the other pair.

Standing up slowly, I carefully tested my ankles and knees. I could feel some strain, but nothing serious. Not even a sprain. I was more than thankful that I hadn’t injured myself, but felt like an idiot for putting myself in a position where it had even been an option. I felt like a fool, not just for trying to wear the shoes, but for even going along with the plan in the first place. I was supposed to be the man in this relationship, and how was I going to do that while strutting around in my wife’s sexy lingerie and killer high heels?

I was thankful that I was done with meetings for the day. It meant that I didn’t need to keep portraying myself as Missy. The next hour saw me removing the makeup as Melissa had shown me the night before, then cleaning up the clothes I had tossed around the bedroom in my haste to shave. I put the dress and lingerie in the dirty clothes and carefully placed the heels back in their box before shoving it on top of the stack of her shoe boxes. The earpods were discarded on the makeup table as I grabbed a clean pair of boxers, a pair of dark sweatpants, and an old college t-shirt.

Pulling on my clothes sent another spike of frustration through me. Why had I shaved like that? It wasn’t like Melissa had asked me to. What was I going to do if she came home and hated it? I felt humiliated as I stepped out of the bedroom and went into my office. Deciding that I had worked enough for one day, I slipped on my gaming headset, cranked up some music and started playing games to take my mind off the confusing and humiliating last few hours of my life.