Body Image

"Don't get all upset, Mona. It would have surfaced eventually anyway. If not now, then in five years, ten years, and who knows how it would have affected your life. I just hastened along the inevitable. Besides, better now while you'll still look good in a string bikini."

Kathleen had gotten up off the couch and now stood over him. She reached down, squeezed his cheeks together so that his lips puckered, and gave him a long, lingering kiss.

"You are going to look so adorable darling," she said. "But first, we have to talk."

Michael didn't remember much of what happened next. He didn't remember, for instance, standing completely naked in the middle of Kathleen's living room while his ex-mistress sipped her drink and watched with mild amusement. He didn't remember being ordered into the shower to shave off his body hair or the hypnotic prompt that caused him to feel sexually excited by the feel of a pair of silky panties. He didn't remember being told what small genitals he had or that his legs were very pretty in a girly way. He didn't remember painting his toenails and fingernails "peek-a-boo" red while watching a rerun of "Friends" and sipping a Slim-Fast or being put to bet that night in Kathleen's guest room wearing a frilly baby-doll nightie. What Michael did remember was the shock of being called downstairs the next morning and finding his wife Christine in the living room of Kathleen's townhouse.

Christine's jaw dropped.

Michael wanted to tell her he could explain everything. But, of course, he couldn't explain a thing. He was naked except for red satin panties and a pair of cute red open-toed pumps with little bows on each instep. His body was completely smooth, his nails were painted, and his cock bulged obscenely inside the cool material of his panties, the pink head actually poking out above the waistband.

"What is the meaning of this?" Christine demanded, having somewhat recovered from her initial shock. "Michael , what's going on here?"