Chapter #4Something else by: Yote   Such a strange order but obviously it is intended to test your commitment to the position. You wonder who the other two men are who are in the running for the post. Most of the contenders that you can think of in the company are competitive, macho men, you're confident that none of them will be able to swallow their pride to wear a skirt.
You, on the other hand, are more than happy to swallow your pride (and other things besides!) if it means getting this new job, which will almost double your take-home salary.
Your wife laughs hysterically when you tell her the news. Her laughter goes on and on. You sigh, a little annoyed. "You don't have to laugh so loud. I'm doing this for us, you know. It'll help us pay the bills."
Still chortling a little, she nods understandingly. Times have been rough lately, financially speaking. On top of your mortgage, your wife, Tanya, loves spending your money. She regards herself as something of a trophy wife and is fond of spa treatments, expensive clothes, fine dining and, most draining on the purse string, plastic surgery. Over the last year alone she's racked up $20,000 worth of credit card bills on surgical treatments to keep herself looking like the busty, blonde princess she is. You're starting to wonder if she has an unhealthy addiction to scalpels and silicone.
"I know, honey, I promise I'll do everything I can to help," she croons.
"Just try not to laugh at me again," you growl warningly.
"Laugh at you? Why would would I do that. After I'm finished, nobody is going to be laughing at you. Let me go pick out my favourite suit."
"Really, sweetie? You think I'll fit into one of yours?" you query, briefly carressing her giant boobs for emphasis.
She giggles. "Oh, don't worry about that, you'll fit. We can make adjustments. I know a guy who can fix you up by tomorrow."
Fantastic, you think, a tailor!
For the next hour, you try on not just her favourite but each and every one of her suits, even ones which don't remotely class as suits. You're lucky you're slim, though the skirt hands lose on your male butt and the blouse droops about your flat chest, showing off your hairy chest. Hardly appealing.
For the umpteenth time, the skirt slips down around your masculine hips and pools about your ankles. "I said no laughing," you chide her as you catch her smirking behind her hand.
"Maybe it's time we went and made those "adjustments"" she winks, reaching for her phone.
It isn't long before the doorbell rings. Strange that your wife should have a tailor on speed dial. Into the house flounces one of the most effeminate men you've ever seen. He is chinese, young and thin as a rake, dressed in guchi and prada with slicked back hair and makeup that leaves lipstick marks on your wife's cheeks as he pulls her into a hug and a kiss. A tall, muscle-bound blonde man in rather too small t-shirt and shorts carries a large box in each hand.
"This is your tailor?" you ask your wife incredulously.
"Oh no, he's my -"   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
<<-- Previous · Outline  · Recent Additions © Copyright 2024 Yote (UN: yote at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Spooky has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work within this interactive story. Poster accepts all responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the content uploaded, submitted to and posted on Writing.Com. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author