Full Time Sucker, Part Time Maid

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you were ashamed at how terrible you looked. Sure, you were wearing the outfit that Amanda, your sister, had laid out for you just as you should, but it was all wrong.

Amanda had explained it all to you. "Since you are going to be acting as a housekeeper, you should dress like one too. All the guys in your situation do it, so you should too. But only when mom's out of the house. If she ever caught you dressed up, she'd be angry because..." Amanda paused, seeming to be thinking for a minute, "...because she knows that this is supposed to be a special part of our relationship, and having her part of it would be wrong."

You listened to her as you slid the stockings up your hairy legs. It all made sense, of course. Dressing up in a French maid outfit while you worked around the house was a special part of your relationship with your sister. Having your mother as part of that special sibling bond just wouldn't make sense. You could completely understand why your mother might get angry at that. As you pull your panties up, you realize that dressing like this while you cook and clean might be a chance to finally have a better relationship with Amanda, the kind of healthy relationship a brother has with his sister, something you've never had before.

Your mother was going to be out late that night, which pleased you quite a bit. As you slipped into the black and white dress, you smile, knowing that you'd be able to dress up and work around the house without having to change, giving your more time to not only work on the house, but to work on your relationship. Your sister had told you to meet her in the kitchen when you were dressed, which you were going to do as soon as you stepped into the high-heeled shoes she had left you, but then you caught your reflection.

And it was all wrong. It was hard reconciling the image before you.

"If you are really serious about contributing to our family," your sister had said as she pulled the shoes from her closet. It was a good thing that you and she were so close in body size. It was a miracle that your were identical in shoe size, "you'd throw yourself into this. You really need to look like a maid, because if you don't, it means that, um, you don't love us."

Your reflection didn't lie. You were dressed in the maid's outfit, but a maid you were not. Hair stuck through your stockings, your hair was a man's fade cut, the dress showed no cleavage, something it was obviously cut for, and your face was plain, unadorned by the make-up you would expect on a maid. It was heartbreaking, but you realized that deep down you didn't love your family. Not that you didn't want to love your family, but it was obvious that you didn't. Not in the most important way, not in looking like a maid.

With a deep sigh, you turn from the mirror and exit the room, making your way to the kitchen. You had plenty of work to do, supper to prepare, the house to clean, but you had another job, too. Resolved on a course of action, you decided then and there that you were going to make a serious change in your life. You were going to be a man who loved his family. Once you were done your chores, you were going to get to work, hit the internet, learn, read, order, and become the kind of man whose love was completely evident. You were going to make yourself a damn good maid.

At least, while your mother was out.