Becoming His Perfect Wife

My lower lip trembles underneath my teeth. I run my hand up my legs as the faucet drips a few more times before shutting off completely. An accurate analogy for a transformation to come.

My body trembles as I feel my now smooth, soft skin on my fingertips. I step out of the tub and wrap the towel around my chest, my body trained. I look in the mirror and black out...

I moved into the neighborhood 2 years ago. After years of saving for a home, I had finally been able to get a place right in the middle of the city. At 27 years old, I felt secure and successful.

I remember the day I moved in; my neighbor, Steven, was kind enough to help me move some boxes. He was an older, divorced man who I think was in his 40s. Steven took care of himself, and it showed. His broad shoulders complimented his strong back. His short brown hair beginning to gray.

In comparison, I was a much different cut of cloth. At 5'10", 215 pounds, I was a little out of shape. I had been starting a new diet and workout plan this week. Steven and I were talking about it as we moved boxes.

"You want me to help put together a program for you?" Steven's voice grumbled as he shifted some of my totes.

"I mean, if it's not too much to ask? You seem to know what you're doing." Shrugging, not realizing what was to come.

Steven would make me that workout plan. It had a lot of cardio and what seemed like a lower-body heavy plan. I figured I should at least try it and committed myself to do it for a year.

Over the better part of 12 months. I watched as my body slimmed down to almost 170 pounds. I had finally built some light muscle on my arms, and my legs were strong but lean. I had always had larger thighs and a bigger butt than most men. Outside of my waist, not being an "hourglass" per se, I had quite a slender figure.

Steven had been coming over with increasing frequency, his visits getting progressively longer. Mostly they were planned. He would come over and we would have a couple drinks, joke around, and then he would head back to his place before dinner.

Probably around month nine of the program, Steven would rag me for being a few inches shorter than him, for being more lithe and slender than strong and built. I would laugh it off, but by the end of it I was looking in the mirror and noticing how right he was. Noticing how different I looked from him. One word kept echoing in my mind: "feminine."

To celebrate committing to the program for the full year, I invited Steven over for us to just party all day at my apartment. He had been more than a neighbor over my first year in the building, and with the championship game for his college football team that weekend, I felt we could just really treat ourselves.

He came over early in the morning so we could pre-game, and then we would go on a bar crawl later on to either celebrate a win or drown ourselves in defeat. Steven came in hot, holding a bag full of snacks and drinks and a backpack, which he set down by the door to my room.

"Don't look in there!" He pointed at the backpack. "Games for later!"

I nodded, not wanting to spoil the surprise. "Fine by me, looking forward to it!"

As we watched and both got a little buzz, Steven finally suggested a game.

"How about this?" He looked at me mischievously. "Call the outcome of the next play. If you're right, you get to tell me to do something. If you're wrong, it's the opposite."

Thinking for a moment, knowing he must have some kind of end goal, I decide to agree. "Deal, I'm calling an incomplete pass." More than confident that this was a safe bet.

Touchdown. They scored a touchdown. I lost. And I had lost a lot more than I realized with that one play.

"Alrighty!!!" Steven exclaimed. "Let me go into my bag. of. tricks." He walked over to the backpack and pulled out an unmarked bag. "Go put this on." He stated it matter of factly.

Rolling my eyes, I open the bag in front of Steven and see two items. My mouth agape as I unravel the clothing in my hands. He's given me a bra and panty set. It's black, with a tiny bit of lace on the edge of the nylon.

"You can't be serious?" I look at him with shock and embarrassment.

"Oh c'mon!" He laughs. "Have some fun with it! Just put them under your jeans and t-shirt!"

I look at him with apprehension, inching towards the bathroom. With one last turn, I ask. "Don't tell anyone?"

Steven nods, serious for a moment. "On my honor." He sits back down to continue watching the game.

I slide into the bathroom quietly and start to strip down. My hands started to shake as I stood nude in my bathroom, holding the waistband of the panties Steven gave me.

"What the fuck am I doing???" I mutter to myself as my body gives in and steps into the holes of the underwear.

My inner man screaming out as I wiggle my hips into the underwear. As though someone will walk in, I quickly pull my jeans back on before holding the bra up by the straps. I've never put one of these on before, but I'd seen girlfriends do it. Doing my best to imitate them, I clasp it in front before spinning it around and pulling the straps over my shoulders.

Thanking myself silently for wearing a dark-colored shirt, I inspect the mirror to make sure nothing is at least showing through my clothes. Taking an enormously deep breath, I walk out and try to nonchalantly sit next to Steven. Without missing a beat, he rubs his hand on my upper back, silently emphasizing the bra straps with his fingers.

"Not the horrible thing that you thought it was right?" He smiles and moves his hand back to his beer.

I take an enormous swig of my own drink, and my voice breaks as I answer him. "N-no, I mean, I suppose it's not the worst thing I've ever had to do."

And as the words left my lips, my penis began to tingle and twitch in the front of the soft panties. Looking at Steven as his attention shifts to the game, wondering if he'd keep his promise. Wondering why this was his idea in the first place...

((First hand at writing, will gladly write out more parts of this story if people enjoy!))