Missy shows up

I was actually glad to step into the shower, it was something I had skipped in the drama of the last 24 hours. Hopping out, I stood in the steamy bathroom and scrapped a razor across my face as well as I could. Opening the door, I stepped out in just a towel wrapped around my waist. The time alone in the shower had given me a chance to rethink this whole thing. “Mel, hun, I don’t…” My voice trailed off as I saw the setup she had going on.

My wife’s vanity took up decent space in our bedroom, but I had been willing to give her that because I loved when she got all dressed up. Her femininity and enjoyment of making herself look better was something that drew me to her in our early exchanges. The big lit up mirror was shining bright as Melissa stood in front of it. She had this giddy look to her eyes, she had always loved giving her friends makeovers. I think if she thought she could have made enough money at it she would have become a makeup artist. “Just sit down baby.” Her voice showed how excited she was, but still held an undercurrent of steel to it. “You promised, remember?”

I furrowed my brow. “I’m not sure I promised anything. But fine.” Stepping forward I sat down in front of the mirror. She had already pulled in my office chair for her to sit in.

“Sit up straight. Ok, first we need to moisturize. Your manly skin needs to be softer for all of this.” That was the start of my makeup lesson. Melissa talked through every step she took, from the moisturizer to the foundation, she even explained to me the black magic that was contouring. Some of it was sort of interesting from an algorithmic perspective, every step had a reason even if it made no sense at the time. The words ‘Trust the process’ were uttered more than a dozen times. It was interesting to see what each brush was for as well. While I had certainly seen her put on makeup, I realized I had never really sat down and studied her doing it.

When she stared at my eyes it became stressful. The concept of drawing inside my eyelid with a sharp pencil was insane to me. The eyeshadow wasn’t bad, but the liner was just uncomfortable as it went on. She had laid out false eyelashes but I shut that down quickly. “You don’t wear those for work. I’m not going to either.”

She sighed dramatically and shrugged. “It would have been cuter. Oh well.” Pulling out something that looked like some kind of medieval **** device, she curled my eyelashes. It was perhaps one of the oddest feelings I had ever experienced. After that came the mascara. I was able to glance into the mirror as she set up the next product or moved around for a better position, and I already looked nothing like myself. I looked younger, my skin looked perfect, almost fake. She finished up my eyes with the mascara. I wasn’t sure if I should have been proud or upset at her comments on my lashes. “My god, I’d kill for natural lashes like this!”

Then came the part I was dreading the most. With her dyed red hair, Melissa loved to pair it with a darker red lipstick. I had always had a thing for seeing lipstain on her soft puffy lips. There was something so sensual about the perfect shape of her plump lips and the way that the makeup would draw my attention to them. Pressing my painted eyes closed, I followed her instructions and pursed my lips. I expected the creamy smoothness of a lipstick, instead I was treated to the feeling of a small wand as it spread the liquid across my lips. Before she was even done, I could feel a tingling sensation over the area it covered.

“Keep your eyes closed honey.” Melissa’s voice in my ear held a husky note as she finished up with my lips. I could hear and feel her moving away as she went to go get something. It was so surreal sitting there with my lips tingling and the feeling of makeup all over my face. I had thought it would feel caked on and odd, instead it just felt different.

It didn’t take long for Melissa to return. I could feel her placing the wig cap over my short shaved hair. I had honestly never really cared about my appearance much. So simply hitting the barbershop every few weeks and getting the same haircut since we had moved to this area was more than enough for me. Once the wig cap was on, I could feel her laying the long red haired wig on. She tugged it in different directions, trying to get it to sit perfectly. I could picture in my mind how it had looked on her. Oddly enough she had enjoyed the style so much after wearing it while her hair grew back that she had adopted the exact look of the wig.

“Keep them closed, mister! We are almost done.” Her voice sounded far away as she must have been searching through her closet for something. She came back moments later and suddenly I felt a pinch on my right earlobe, then a weight hanging from it. My left ear experienced the same thing. “There! I forgot I had those.”

Opening my eyes, I looked into the mirror and saw my wife. Well, not exactly. My eyebrows were different, my face was not quite the same shapes, but the similarities were eerie. In a dark room, most people would have had a problem telling us apart. Moving, I could feel the long dark red hair brush against my bare shoulders, the heavy fake gold clip on hoop earrings bouncing against my neck. I sat there frozen and speechless.

“Darren, come here. We need to get you dressed.” Her voice broke me from my stupor, I turned towards her and shook my head again. The feelings of the long hair and earrings returning.

“Why? All I have to do is pull on a hoodie, that will be baggy enough that no one will care.”

Melissa rolled her eyes at me and let out an exasperated sigh. “You are meeting with leadership, and you want to wear a hoodie? You have to know that won’t cut it. Look, for now, you can just wear one of my blouses…” She paused and looked at me more closely. “And a bra.” She could see the defiance creeping back into my face. Holding a hand out to forestall any arguments, she spoke up again. “You agreed to let me make you look decent. You can’t argue with me on this. This is my career on the line. What do you think will happen if anyone finds out what I have been doing? You think I’ll be able to keep either job? Then what will happen to us Darren? Just fucking man up and let me dress you.”

Melissa had always known exactly what to say when she needed to press my buttons. I was never the most masculine guy, and I knew that was mostly what she had dated in the past. So she would always use the term ‘Man up’ to show me when she thought I was being ridiculous about my masculinity. She was also right that this was her career I was toying with. If I was going to follow through with her ridiculous idea, I would need to let her do it. Plus, there was no way I would fit in her blouses. “Fine Mel, you win. Just, just realize this isn’t easy for me ok?”

She smiled and nodded. “I’d kiss you, but I don’t want to smudge your lipstick.” The comment did not make me feel any better, but it did make her smile. Seeing my wife smile always seemed to make things better for me. Stepping over to the bed, I sat down and was about to lay back before she caught me. “Don’t you dare lay down! You’ll fuck up your hair!”

Sighing, I sat there with a fully made up face, wearing just a towel and waited for her. “Can you at least make it so the blouse is more understated?” A grunt of a response escaped her walk in closet. It was one of the things she had loved about this apartment when we got it. The huge closet held all her clothes and still had a bit of room for my stuff.

Coming out of the closet, she held a black long sleeve button up shirt. At first I thought she had relented and grabbed one of my few dress shirts. In her other hand was a black lacy bra. Now, I love Melissa’s shape. And before that exact moment in time, I had loved nothing more than her large breasts. Suddenly realizing that I would need to emulate her double D’s left me feeling a bit queasy. “Stand up.”

Following instructions, I stood up and she fed my arms through the straps of the bra. “Normally, you would put it on backwards, do it up, then turn it around and put your arms through the shoulder straps.” I wasn’t sure why she was telling me how to put on a bra. It wasn’t something I would need to memorize at all. Still, I nodded along with her advice and continued to follow orders. She fiddled with the back a while, moving the shoulder straps this way and that, deciding on which hook to clasp it.

Next came the stuffing. Hosiery seemed to be her choice for the job. Nude colored stockings balled up and stuffed into the cups to fill them out. I wanted to tell her to stop, but she just kept stuffing them in. It felt like she had used her entire sock drawer on me. I knew my wife’s breasts were large, but it wasn’t until I had her bra on and her chest jutting out from mine that I realized just how large they actually were. It was amazing what the different perspective was like.

The black long sleeved shirt followed up. I was always astounded at my wife’s shirts. She was a fan of having them tailored to fit her figure perfectly. Previously, I had enjoyed this as a benefit of having a gorgeous partner. Now that I was going to be wearing one, I was far less impressed with it. Sliding my arms through the sleeves, I began to try and button it up. It was odd at first with the buttons on the opposite side, but that was easy enough to get around. Starting up at my neck, I buttoned down over the large stuffed bra. While not see through, the flimsy top made it easy to feel the lace of the bra through it. It wasn’t until I started to try and button down past the bra that we ran into a problem. “Mel, it won’t fit.”

Turning back from cleaning up her makeup, Melissa stepped up and frowned. She reached out and tried to pull the shirt halves together in front, but nothing we did would close the last inch or so. Of course, I took this as a chance to try and find my way out. “Guess that is it then…” Letting the words fall off, I started to unbutton the blouse slowly. I could see the wheels turning in Melissa’s mind as she stood thinking.

A smile crested her face and I felt my stomach fall out from under me. I knew that look, it was one I had learned to dread early on in our relationship. “Stay here.” She took off into her closet and began rooting around. “Found it!” Coming back out, she held the only thing I could think of as scarier than the bra. A few years ago, the sedentary lifestyle had started to get to both of us. With covid, working out was difficult as we couldn’t really leave the house. I simply bought a couple of larger sweatshirts. Melissa’s answer was a black waist cincher. She had researched it and looked into waist training to see if it would be an answer. I think she had worn the thing for about a week before she decided that buying a treadmill was a much better option.

“Melissa…I…” I stammered out trying to find some reason to stop the train we were on.

“Darren! Why are you being such a whiner about this? Man the fuck up. You said you would do this didn’t you? It is just a piece of clothing. I used to wear it, you will be fine.” Slapping my hands away, she began to wrap the black mesh **** device around my waist. Slowly, she began to put the clasps together in the front. With each one, it seemed to tighten up more and more. She started at the bottom and worked hook by hook. I could feel my body being pushed around, but it actually wasn’t that bad.

As she finished the hooks, I was pleasantly surprised that it had been that easy. Sure it was tight, but not in a way that should have resulted in all the complaining she had done when she wore it. “That’s not that bad. Sorry I fought you about it hun.”

Her grin let me know I had missed a step somewhere. “That’s cause I let someone else try it and they were a bit bigger than we are. I need to size it down for you.” I wasn’t sure what ‘size it down’ meant, until she walked around behind me and undid the knot in the ribbon that laced up the back. I could suddenly feel the walls of the corset like object crushing inwards. It was a strange feeling having my insides pushed around while my waist was constricted inwards. I could tell that Melissa was having problems getting it as tight as she wanted, but after a few minutes of it, she tied the strings off and stepped away.

My breathing became shallower and shorter, I also felt like something was propping me up. Anytime I would relax my back, I could feel the edges digging in. As long as I kept my back straight and my shoulders back, it wasn’t that bad. As I adjusted to the new way my body felt, Melissa quickly did up the buttons on the blouse. It was still tight, some of the buttons were holding on for dear life, but she managed to get it closed up. I felt like a bit of a fool standing there. The upper half of my body looked like my wife, while the lower half was me in a towel.

I stared at the mirror apprehensively and tried to figure out how I felt about all of this. Suddenly, I could hear Missy’s phone beeping. Stepping over, I saw that I only had five minutes left till my meeting was supposed to start. “Shit, five minutes babe.” I looked around to see where my pants had gone.

“Here, I’ve got you. No way you can bend over to put your pants on with that thing on.” It was true, my movement felt a bit wooden as I stood there. Turning to look at Melissa, I saw her with a pair of slacks over one arm and some black underwear in her other hand. I tried to think of what black underwear I had that she could have grabbed, but dismissed it as a problem for later. As she kneeled down in front of me, she disappeared from my vision. The black mounds of blouse covered breasts hid her away. It was more than a little disconcerting.

She picked up one foot and then the other and pulled the tight underwear up around my thighs and settled it into place. She giggled as she moved my cock around to fit better. Before I could figure out what was going on, she was doing the same with the pants. The black slacks slid up my legs with a little more effort than normal. I guess I had been gaining weight because the slacks were tight against my thighs as they settled around my waist. It wasn’t until she had to pull the pants closed to button them that I realized what she had done.

“Really Melissa?” She giggled and stepped back. Turning to look in the mirror I saw that I was wearing a pair of her tight slacks. One of the pairs I knew made her ass look amazing. The worst part about it was the outline of my dick. I could feel the pressure and the soft feeling of whatever underwear she had slipped on me making it grow. I wasn’t packing the world's largest dong, but the seven inch shaft was certainly above average. It stood out against the tight pants in a way that made me very glad I would be sitting.

“What, Missy needs to look nice for her interview. What is it your mother said when we got engaged? ‘Remember Melissa, a woman needs to look good every day for her spouse,’ So, now you look good for me. Plus, I had to get you a matching set.” She giggled and walked out of the bedroom.

Frustration built up inside of me. Even if I didn’t want this to happen, I had **** now. The tight pants would be impossible to remove, and there was no way I was getting the waist cincher off without her help. Stomping out of the bedroom towards my office I yelled after her. “We are gonna talk about this after the meeting!”