cwcobblestone
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Posts: 267
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#1 · Edited by: cwcobblestone
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"Aunt Edna"
by c.w. cobblestone
After what happened last year, I'm dreading the upcoming holidays, but for my family's sake I'll put on a smile and shoulder through it. Nobody wants to hear me whine, so my best bet is to just play along and keep pretending that I'm happy with my lowly position in our household. If I want to cling to what little I have left, my only hope is to stay in my place and avoid making waves.
I still can't believe how quickly everything unraveled. A week before Christmas, my three teenaged daug-hters came home early from school to find me wearing their mom's pantyhose. On Christmas Day it got even worse when the kids and I learned that I wasn't their biological fa-ther.
As a holiday bonus, I also found out that day about my wife's longtime, ongoing affair with her boss — the girls' real dad.
I was still reeling from Miriam's devastating yuletide confession when she delivered yet another jingle bell gut-punch by inviting her lover over to meet his daug-hters the next day. Things went haywire from there, and by the New Year our household had undergone a radical metamorphosis, with a new dad — the real dad — heading the family, and a new maid — me — serving them.
It's a hum-iliating situation for sure, but I'm trying to make the best of it because I don't want to give up my family. I just can't. I love the girls dearly; I don't care if they aren't technically mine — and damn it, I love Miriam, too, even though she betrayed me in the worst possible way. If I want to keep them in my life, this is how it has to be: Phil Mansfield is in charge and there's nothing I can do about it.
Like I said, I'm trying to make the best of things, and I'm determined to get through the upcoming holidays in one piece. But you'll have to forgive me if I'm not exactly giddy with Christmasy cheer, despite my fake smile.
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The first shoe dropped on Thursday, December 18th, a date which shall live in infamy. I usually had the house to myself on Tuesdays and Thursdays from the time I got home from work until about 7pm, when Miram returned from aerobics (or, so I thought), and the girls got back from their extracurricular school activities. Kaitlyn, my sixteen-year-old daug-hter (or, so I thought) had basketball practice, while the fourteen-year-old twins, Hailey and Jenna, were both on the JV cheerleading squad, which also drilled on Tuesdays and Thursdays after classes.
Kaitlyn had just gotten her license, and could finally drive herself and her sisters to and from school in the Jeep I bought her for her sixteenth birthday. That gave me a little extra time to myself, since it had previously been my responsibility to haul the kids around. With a houseful of females, I rarely got the opportunity to indulge my clandestine crossdressing fetish, so I was glad when Kaitlyn got her license, because it offered chances to dress up.
Throughout my seventeen-year marriage, I'd been on the brink of telling Miriam about my submissive, sissy cravings countless times, but I could never bring myself to do it. I was afraid she'd freak out and dump me, a fate I didn't want to contemplate. I'd married way above my head — literally and figuratively, since I was five-foot-five and Miriam was three inches taller than me, in addition to being far more attractive — and I was perpetually consumed by the fear that she might leave me.
My late fa-ther had warned me before the wedding that Miram was only marrying me because I raked in good money as a dentist, but I blew him off. As the years passed, I realized he was right. It didn't matter; even if she didn't exactly shower me with affection, I loved her and needed her in my life.
Miriam grew more distant with each turn of the calendar. After the twins were born, she told me menopause had hit early, and that intercourse was becoming painful. So, our sex life, which had only consisted of once-a-month romps in the first place, came to a screeching halt.
I was convinced Miriam was only sticking around because of the comfortable lifestyle I afforded her — so I busted my ass to make as much money as possible so she could enjoy a life of leisure and have no reason to leave me. She worked part-time reviewing manuscripts at Polecat Publishing, her dream job which she'd held before I met her; three days a week she would put in a few hours reading book sub-missions and dealing with prospective authors before going to the gym, shopping or whatever else fancied her.
Looking back, there were plenty of signs that Miram was running around on me — all the late nights, excuses that made no sense, the hint of cologne on her clothes, the crusty panties. But like so many other well-to-do beta cuckolds who are desperate to hold onto their sexy, outgoing wives, I buried my head in the sand. She'd told me she couldn't have sex because she'd hit menopause after the twins were born, and I told myself that she was telling the truth.
So, while my wife was fucking another man behind my back all those years and having me raise his kids, I was kissing her ass, desperate to keep her from leaving me. I learned to live without sex and tried to be the perfect husband outside the bedroom. We settled into a pleasant-enough family routine, with Miriam as the unquestioned head of our household and me the pussywhipped husband who never got any pussy. She was the Queen Bee who hardly lifted a finger, and while I hadn't yet acquired the formal title, I was every bit her faithful servant.
When I'd get home from a hard day of standing at the dentist's chair, I'd do all the housework and the cooking, although Miriam enjoyed making a dish herself once in a while, leaving the cleanup for me. When the girls were babies, I changed most of the diapers. If one of the kids spilled something, I'd be the one to jump up and get a rag while Miram sat there and watched me. I can't tell you how many times we'd be out in public and another woman — and sometimes a man — would remark to my wife, "Wow, you've really got him trained," as I was scurrying away after she'd ordered me to do something in a tone of voice that let everyone within earshot know exactly who wore the pants in our family.
As the girls got older, if they wanted permission to do something, they'd always ask their mom, since they knew it wasn't up to me. Whereas they'd never have dreamed of talking back to Miriam, they did it to me all the time, although I did hold secondary authority over them, and knew I could always get them to listen to me if I warned, "don't make me have to tell your mo-ther."
The girls weren't nasty or cruel to me, but like Miriam, they certainly bossed me around and took me for granted. I was the dad who'd be kept waiting in the parking lot for three hours while the girls screwed around in the mall, when they were supposed to have run in for "just a second." When they'd get back to the minivan, I wouldn't say a word, either, because I knew in the end Miriam would take their side — and they knew it, too. If the girls decided out of the blue that they wanted Dairy Queen or some other treat, as long as it was okay with their mom, I was the dad who'd put on his shoes and run out to get it for them, no matter the weather, time of day or what I happened to be doing. And while the kids always made a huge deal out of Miram's birthday, baking a cake each year and putting up decorations, my usual gift was a ten-dollar Lowe's gift card from all three of them.
Still, I was happy to get that. Looking back, I can see how lucky I really was.
Then, a week before Christmas last year, the avalanche came raining down one rock at a time.
My crossdressing caused the first stone to tumble loose.
<><><><><><>
Whenever I had the house to myself, I'd don Miriam's pantyhose, kneel before the commode in the master bathroom and jack off, fantasizing that my wife was making me shoot my load into the toilet water while telling me that my sperm was worthless.
I was in that position on the fateful evening when my secret was exposed to my kids — an episode that plays over and over in my head to this day. Hunched over the toilet and diddling my ding-a-ling, I heard the front door open and slam, followed by the pounding of multiple sneakers rumbling up the stairs in what appeared to be a footrace, something the athletic, competitive girls did all the time.
With my heart in my throat, I tried to close the bathroom door, but recoiled when I saw that it was off the hinges — I had removed it the previous evening when Miriam had wanted the bathroom painted, but I hadn't put it back on. I tried to set it across the opening, but in my haste the door tipped over and fell to the carpet with a thud. My head was swimming as I darted from the master bathroom toward my robe, which was draped over the dresser on the other side of the bedroom. I was about halfway there when all three of my daug-hters appeared in the corridor outside the bedroom doorway, and I wanted to ki-ll myself for having left the door wide open. It also dawned on me that I should've just removed the pantyhose, and my daug-hters would've merely seen me naked — but like an idiot, goddamn it, I'd panicked.
The girls all stopped in their tracks and stood motionless with their mouths open. I pulled on the robe and then realized that it did no good — my stockinged feet still showed.
Kaitlyn burst into tears before running to her bedroom. The twins turned and ducked into their own room, slamming the door so hard it rattled the pictures on the wall.
My bedroom was spinning and I had to grab the dresser to avoid losing my balance. I retched and dashed back to the bathroom, puking in the toilet where I'd just cho-ked my chicken. After dry-heaving for several minutes, I staggered to the sink and splashed cold water on my face, though I dared not look in the mirror.
I followed the girls' lead and hid in my bedroom until Miriam came home. A second after I heard the front door close, the kids' own doors creaked open and their hurried footsteps paddled down the staircase. They clearly couldn't wait to tell their mom the terrible news.
Voices didn't carry in our McMansion, so I didn't bother straining my ears to try to pick up the conversation downstairs, and I wasn't about to sneak out into the hallway to eavesdrop, either, lest I get caught. With a pillow covering my head, I curled up in bed shivering for what must have been an hour before I heard my wife's terse summons:
"Ed, come down here."
<><><><><><>
Like a zombie, I plodded down the stairs. The girls sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch while Miriam was hunched on the edge of her recliner. I was surprised at their soft expressions; I'd expected scowls.
Hailey, always the aggressive one, was the first to talk: "Listen, Dad, we understand this is who you are, and I'm sorry I reacted like that. It was just a shock, that's all."
"Me, too," Jenna echoed while Kaitlyn nodded.
I couldn't control myself and started crying.
"Come on, Dad, this is nothing," Hailey said.
"Yeah, it's not a big deal at all," her twin added. "Miss Jenson, our English teacher, is trans, and some kids in school are, too."
Hailey grinned. "I can't wait to tell everyone our dad is trans. This is so cool."
My sob caught in my throat, and I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "Uh, I ... um, can you guys please not do that? Don't tell people anything, okay? I'm not trans, honey. I ... w-well, I just like to dress up sometimes, that's all. I-I'm so sorry that you had to see it, but ... well, it's just something I like to do. I don't do it a whole lot; just every now and then. I ... I'm so sorry, you guys. I feel so horrible about this."
Hailey set her jaw. "Miss Jenson says we shouldn't hide from who we are."
Kaitlyn, the oldest but also the quietest, finally spoke: "Yeah, Dad, if you feel like you were born a woman, if that's who you are inside, then that's who you need to be. It'll be a lot worse in the long run if you keep hiding it."
I scratched the back of my neck. "But ... but I'm telling you guys — I don't feel like I'm a woman inside. That's not who I am. I ... I just ... I ... uh ..."
Miriam turned to her daug-hters. "Listen, you three, why don't you go upstairs for a while? I need to talk to your dad alone."
Hailey sighed. "Okay, but I'm telling you, Dad — you really need to let go of the old way of thinking. It's not the 1980s anymore. You can be proud of who you are."
<><><><><><>
My wife gestured toward the couch. "Sit down, Ed."
I staggered to the sofa and plopped onto the cushion. "H-honey, I—"
Miram held up her hand. "Just stop. Listen, Ed, I've known for a while, okay?"
"Known? Known ... uh, about what?"
"You know what. Your fantasies. The dressing up. I found out when we got our first computer, right after the twins were born — I went through the browsing history and saw some of the websites you were going to ... all the stuff you posted about how you were dressing in my nylons and jacking off in the toilet when I wasn't home."
My stomach churned, and I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from throwing up again. After gulping a few mouthfuls of air, I ventured a question: "If you knew, then why ... um, why didn't you say something?"
"Me? Why didn't YOU say something?"
I started bawling again. "I'm so sorry, honey. I was afraid ... afraid you'd leave me if you found out."
"Ed, if I'd have wanted to leave you, I'd have done so a long time ago."
"R-really?"
"Of course, Ed. What the hell. I'm still here, aren't I?"
I drew a breath. "So ... you don't think I'm ... a-a freak?"
Miriam sighed. "No, Ed, you're not a freak — but now that the girls know, we need to figure out how to deal with it. We talked for a long time before you came down, and they don't think it's a big deal at all — you heard Hailey; they think it's really cool. Like they said, their teacher is trans, and kids in their school are, too. And that's what they think you are, Ed: They think you're a woman trapped in a man's body — and frankly, I think they're right."
"Honey, I'm NOT."
"No? Are you sure?" Miriam smirked. "Mom always thought you were gay, you know."
"Gay? Seriously? She really thought that? W-why?"
"Well, let's see, Ed. For starters, you told her you'd rather go to the ballet than a football game. Remember that? At Thanksgiving? You and my brother got in a huge argument over it."
"Yeah, I remember — Matt was being a jerk. And your mom kept going on and on about it. So, I prefer ballet to football — why is that gay?"
"Mom was from the old country, Ed — she couldn't understand why a guy would prefer ballet to football, and she swore until the day she died that you were secretly gay. Personally, I never agreed with her, but I do think there's a woman inside you who's crying to get out. I mean, you've got to admit you've got feminine features. We talked about that before; you told me your dad used to say you looked like a girl. Right?"
I pried my jaws open. "Um, yeah."
"But it's more than physical. I've been noticing it ever since I found your websites, and you just ... I don't know, Ed, you just seem to like girly stuff. You watch the Hallmark Channel instead of ESPN. You'd rather bake a cake than go to the bar."
"Well, I was just trying to be a good husband, honey, that's all." A tear snaked down my cheek. "I know you don't like me going to bars, so I never go. I put on the Hallmark Channel because that's what I figured you'd want to watch. And I don't really like sports — that doesn't mean I'm gay."
"Whatever." Miriam shrugged. "For now, we're telling the kids you're trans. It's something they understand, and they're actually excited about it."
I held out my hands. "But honey — why can't we just tell them the truth?"
"And what IS the truth, Ed?" Miram bared her fangs. "Should we tell them that their dad is some little creep who sneaks around putting on their mom's pantyhose and jacking off into the toilet?"
She had me there — that WAS the truth.
"We can actually turn a potentially traumatic incident for them into a positive." Miriam chuckled. "Like I said, the girls are quite excited about you being trans. They were talking about taking you shopping for a whole new wardrobe."
"Come on, Miriam, this is bullcrap! I don't want to go shopping! I don't want them telling their school friends that I'm a transsexual, either — what the hell! I'M NOT A WOMAN INSIDE A MAN'S BODY! THAT'S NOT WHO I AM!"
Miriam's eyes flashed. "Who the FUCK do you think you're yelling at, Ed?"
My shoulders drooped. "I-I'm sorry, honey, I didn't mean to raise my voice. Please, I'm sorry."
"You're damn RIGHT you're sorry. Don't be snapping at me, you little bastard — you're the one who put us in this position in the first place."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry. Okay, Miriam?"
"I don't want to make this any more confusing for the girls than it has to be. This is completely your fault, Ed — so don't piss me off. I can't believe you had the fucking nerve to yell at me."
"P-please, honey, I'm sorry, alright? I'll tell the girls I'm ... uh, trans and that I'm really a woman inside if that's what you want — but can we at least ask them to keep this quiet outside the family? Please? I'm begging you, honey. I'll lose half my patients if this gets out."
Miriam chewed her lip. "Okay. We'll tell them this is something you're not ready to announce to the world just yet."
I heaved a sigh. "Thank you, Miriam."
She nodded and yelled: "Girls! Come down here."
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cwcobblestone
Member
Posts: 267
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I had to pee, both from the apprehension churning my gut and from having guzzled five glasses of water to soothe my parched throat. Kaitlyn, Hailey and Jenna were back on the couch, with their mom still parked in her easy chair. I stood in front of everybody, fidgeting and praying for Mo-ther Earth to swallow me whole.
Miriam sat up straight. "Girls, your dad has something to tell you. Ed?"
I looked at my shoes and kicked at the carpet. "Um, well, um, you guys were right. I, uh, I feel like I was born in the wrong body, and, uh, I've always repressed it. I'm sorry you guys had to find out this way. I'm so sorry."
"Aw, it's okay, dad." Hailey beamed. "We understand. Miss Jenson says lots of trans people struggle with who they are at first. It just took you longer to accept it, that's all."
"Yeah, better late than never," Kaitlyn chipped in.
I nodded and faked a smile. "Thanks, you guys. But listen — your mom and me talked about it, and we don't think we're quite ready to tell other people about this. Okay?"
Hailey pouted. "Come on, Mom! Why can't we tell anybody?"
"Because you can't. We don't want it getting out."
"I already told Taylor," Jenna said.
My jaw dropped. "You did WHAT?"
"I called her a minute ago and told her." Jenna blinked. "She's my best friend, and we tell each other everything. What's the big deal? She thought it was frigging awesome that my dad's trans."
I groaned. "Honey, if my patients find out, I could lose my practice. Please, this can't get out."
Miriam nodded. "Jenna, call Taylor back and tell her she needs to keep this a secret. Tell her your fa-ther isn't ready to announce that he's trans just yet. Explain that he could lose his dental practice if people find out, okay, honey? This is important."
With an annoyed sigh, Jenna activated her cellphone and stomped out of the living room, although she returned a few minutes later clearly tickled.
"Taylor says it'll be between just us. She pinky-promised she wouldn't say anything to anyone, so I guarantee she won't. I invited her to go clothes shopping with us."
I blinked. "Um ... c-clothes shopping?"
"Yeah, Dad. Just because you aren't ready to announce it to the world, you'll need a new wardrobe so you can dress at home. That way, it'll be easier for you to transition when you ARE ready to tell everyone."
I cleared my throat. "B-but ... I ... listen, honey, I don't think I want to—"
Miriam cut me off: "That sounds great, girls, You're on Christmas break tomorrow so you can take him shopping then if you want. Just be discreet about it — remember, we need to keep this a secret. We don't want your fa-ther losing his practice."
"We will," Kaitlyn said.
Hailey nodded. "So, Dad — what's your female name?"
"I ... I don't really have one, honey."
"Well, you've got to have a female name," Hailey whined.
I licked my lips. "Um, not really. I'm fine without one. And I don't really need to dress at home. I'm telling you, guys, I—"
Miram shot me a look. "Ed ..."
I gulped. "Um, okay. I ... well, I haven't really thought of what name to use, honey."
"Google the female version of 'Ed,'" Jenna suggested.
"Look up 'Edward,'" Kaitlyn added.
Hailey fumbled with her smartphone and giggled. "Okay: Edwarda, Edalene, Edyth, Edmonda, Edmonia, Edmunda, Edna, Edwina—"
"I like 'Edna," Jenna said. "The rest sound dumb."
"Dad kind of looks like an 'Edna,'" Hailey agreed.
Kaitlyn searched my eyes. "Does 'Edna' sound good to you, Dad?"
"Um, I ... I ..." I looked at my wife, who nodded. I gulped. "Yes, honey, Edna's fine."
The twins cheered and repeated "Edna!" while Miriam leaned back in her chair with an amused twitch to her lips.
Hailey furrowed her brow. "So, should we call you 'Aunt Edna' instead of 'Dad' now?"
Jenna sniggered. "Ooh, yeah, that's perfect. From now on, we'll call you, 'Aunt Edna.'"
"Just at home, girls," Miram warned.
"Promise!" Hailey crossed her heart.
Miram smiled at me. "Okay, then, EDNA, I'm starving after all this drama tonight — why don't you go ahead and get started on dinner?"
<><><><><><>
The girls chattered nonstop from the backseat, although I was so nervous I could barely hold onto the steering wheel as I nosed the minivan into the Pinetree Mall parking lot, which was jam-packed during the holiday shopping season. I drove around until lucking out into a parking spot near the mall.
"Come on, Aunt Edna," Hailey called as she, her siblings and Jenna's best friend Taylor spilled out of the minivan and practically sprinted through the parking lot toward the mall while I struggled to keep up, feeling like a condemned man on his way to the gallows.
Aside from the hum-iliating circumstances of being dragged to the mall to purchase a new female wardrobe, it felt odd that my daug-hters were paying me so much attention. They'd always ignored me unless they wanted something, and would roll their eyes whenever I'd initiate a conversation. Their change in attitude was palpable; instead of them seeing me as some shrimpy, lame dentist, I was totally rad as a trans dad.
Our first stop was Macy's. The girls browsed for a spell before Hailey found a blue dress that fancied her and held it up to my chest. "You're about Aunt Edna's size, Dad," she told me for the benefit of the nearby saleswoman. "I think this would fit her, what do you guys think?"
The other girls concurred and, under that guise, we continued shopping for 'Aunt Edna.'
After we'd visited four stores and I'd purchased six dresses and three sle-eping gowns, I thought we were done, although Hailey asked out of nowhere, "Hey, what about panties?"
I coughed. "Girls, that's not necessary. I—"
Hailey looked just like her mo-ther as she cut me off with a dismissive hand-wave. "Oh, come on, Dad. You need underwear — I don't think Mom wants you going commando."
That got a titter from the girls, and I was mortified. I also knew I was defeated, so I shrugged and followed the foursome into Victoria's Secret.
As the saleslady approached us, Hailey told her, "We're here to buy some panties and bras for our Aunt Edna. She's about my Dad's size."
The store employee pointed toward a bin. "Those are on sale — $30 for a set."
The girls rushed toward the bin, and started holding up panties to my waist and bras against my breast to see if they'd fit their 'Aunt Edna.' I got the distinct feeling that the saleswoman wasn't buying the ruse, but she said nothing, and I suffered the indignity of being fitted for panties and bras. I paid for the purchase and left the store with a relieved sigh.
As we were headed toward the mall exit, Kaitlyn, ever the pragmatist, suggested: "Hey, you guys — don't you think we should get Aunt Edna something for when she cleans the house and stuff? We got nice dresses, stuff to sle-ep in and undies, but there's nothing for everyday working around the house."
Hailey nodded. "We can probably pick up a few cheap dresses at The Charge."
Sure enough, The Charge offered threadbare, ugly, flowery frocks at two for $25. After our purchase, we finally headed home.
"Is your Aunt Edna gonna model everything for us when we get back to your place?" Taylor asked.
I looked at my daug-hter's friend in the rearview mirror. "No, Taylor."
"Aw, come on, Dad — I mean, Aunt Edna," Hailey whined. "We need to see if everything fits."
"Yeah," Jenna chimed in. "And I guarantee Mom's gonna want to see you in your new clothes."
As always when they wanted me to do something, Jenna had used her mo-ther as leverage.
But when we got back home Miriam was gone, having left a note on the kitchen counter:
"Went to the gym. Go ahead and eat; I'll eat later. Love, Mom"
It didn't matter — the girls wouldn't leave me alone until I'd agreed to model everything for them. They got a huge kick out of it, although for me it was completely mortifying. I swallowed my degradation and played along until finally I'd tried on every outfit and Taylor had gone home.
Thankful the hum-iliating ordeal was over, I changed into my sweats and headed to the kitchen to start on dinner.
"What are you wearing?" Hailey frowned. "Aren't you gonna wear one of those housecleaning dresses we just bought?"
"Uh, not tonight, honey."
Jenna exhaled. "Come on, Aunt Edna — you're falling back into your old habits again. You said you were gonna start accepting who you are, and dressing as a female at home. That's what you told Mom, remember?"
With droopy shoulders, I nodded. "All, right, honey. You're right. Let me go change."
I slogged into my bedroom and donned one of my cheap, ugly frocks. Feeling like an absolute fool, I headed back downstairs.
The girls cheered when they saw me.
Hailey smiled. "You look nice, Aunt Edna. Just like an older woman, except for the hair. But you can grow it out when you're ready to transition full-time."
"That's mean." Kaitlyn frowned. "You don't look like an old woman, Dad — I mean, Aunt Edna. You actually look quite pretty."
"Yeah, you look great," Jenna concurred.
"T-thanks, guys." I coughed.
Hailey rubbed her stomach. "Ugh, I'm starving after walking in the mall all day."
"Me too." Her twin smiled at me. "You think we can have hamburgers tonight, Aunt Edna?"
"Sure, honey," I said before lumbering to the kitchen and firing up the stove, feeling self-conscious as all get-out in my ugly, feminine getup.
<><><><><><>
When Miriam got home from her workout, the girls pestered me to model everything again. My wife seemed pleased, which was a relief that somewhat assuaged the crushing hum-iliation I felt as I pranced in front of her while she sipped wine and relaxed in her easy chair.
The next few days were a blur. I wore the housework frocks all weekend, although I was able to escape for a couple hours when I did my usual Saturday grocery shopping dressed as a man. I stayed away from home as long as I dared, although I knew I couldn't hide in Kroger all day. When I got back to the house, the second after I'd lugged in the last bag from the minivan, the girls were cajoling me to "get dressed as Aunt Edna again."
After I'd changed and served my daug-hters a light lunch, Hailey suggested: "You should wear makeup, too, Aunt Edna. We'll teach you."
Jenna's face lit up. "Yeah, Aunt Edna — come on." She leapt from her dining room chair and dragged me to the bathroom.
The girls had a ball showing me how to apply lipstick, eye shadow, mascara and rouge. When my face was finished, Kaitlyn kissed my cheek.
"You look so pretty, Aunt Edna."
Her little sisters agreed — and when I glanced in the mirror, I had to admit I WAS pretty.
I also had to admit that I was starting to enjoy this new normal, because as hum-iliating as it was, it also meant I was no longer an annoyance to my precious daug-hters. Instead, they looked at me as a brave hero, and it felt damn good. Rather than my crossdressing continuing as a source of shame, I actually started feeling good about who I was. In private, my situation also provided great jerkoff material, as I imagined I was living as my wife's sissy maid. I'd been fantasizing about that scenario since the beginning of our relationship, but it seemed realer with me now dressing as a woman at home, and realizing that Miriam had known about my kink for years.
Despite my lifelong fears of being outed as a sissy, things were going surprisingly well after my secret was exposed. As long as my crossdressing remained behind closed doors, I had to admit that I was happier than I'd ever been in my life. My daug-hters actually looked up to me for a change. Miriam seemed content.
Then, on Christmas Day, a huge boulder came rumbling down the mountain, crushing me like a cuckolded cockroach.
<><><><><><>
I passed out presents like I had every year since the kids were babies, but this time I was doing it as Aunt Edna — and for the first time, the girls showered me with gifts: Dresses, heels, makeup, you name it. Miriam actually seemed a little miffed that I was getting more attention than her for a change, although that may have been just my imagination.
After all the presents under the tree had been opened and I had disposed of all the wrappings, we dug into our stockings. Mine was full of feminine products: Little bottles of skin cream, nail files and polish.
But it was the card from Aunt Nora that hit like a kick to the nuts.
Jenna opened it. "Hey, Aunt Nora got us a subscription to yourancestors.com."
Hailey rolled her eyes. "That's for Kaitlyn; she's into all that history crap."
"Heck yeah — this is frigging awesome," Kaitlyn proclaimed, which for her was a major outburst. "I'm gonna swab my cheek and mail off the DNA today."
"You can't mail it today, dummy — it's Christmas," Hailey joshed.
"Then, I'll mail it tomorrow," Kaitlyn said, snatching the gift card from her little sister and scanning the lettering.
Miriam squirmed in her chair. "Um, uh, I don't know about all this genealogy stuff, you guys."
Kaitlyn squinted "Why? What's wrong?"
Miriam pulled at her sleeve. "I ... I don't know. Why start digging into all that crap?"
The head of our household was rattled. I was shocked, and could tell the girls were taken aback, too. Normally, Miriam was completely in charge of both the homestead and her emotions, and it was jarring to see her on her heels like that.
Kaitlyn pressed her: "Digging into what crap, Mom? I just want to know more about our background. Don't you want to know more about Grandma's family in Ukraine?"
"Yeah, and we don't know much about Dad's family at all," Jenna added.
"You mean Aunt Edna," her twin corrected her.
Kaitlyn looked at me. "Do you know what country your ancestors came from?"
It dawned on me that this was the first time any of the girls had asked about my family, and I was happy to tell them that my great-great grandparents were from Ireland, and that they'd arrived in the United States through Ellis Island during in the 1890s, although I wasn't sure exactly which year, and was curious to find out. My mo-ther had died at chi-ldbirth and Dad passed while Miriam was pregnant with Kaitlyn.
The more we discussed family history, the more agitated Miriam became.
"Can you guys do me a favor and throw that damn card away?" She glowered. "What's the point in looking backward?"
Kaitlyn squinted. "You're acting weird, Mom."
The twins agreed. I did, too, although I kept my mouth shut.
Miriam stared at her fingernails for several seconds before clearing her throat. "Listen, girls, you need to go upstairs."
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cwcobblestone
Member
Posts: 267
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I drew a breath and ventured a question: "Honey, what's going on? You're not acting right."
"Ed ..." Miriam's eyes watered.
Bolting from my seat, I stood next to her chair and put my hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, honey, don't cry. Just tell me what's wrong."
Miriam moved my hand. She glanced at me for a brief second before averting her gaze. "Ed ... they're not yours."
"What? What's not mine?"
She cried harder. "The girls, Ed — you're not ... not their fa-ther."
It's funny how the mind works, because when she told me that I thought she was joking at first, and I envisioned the kids jumping out from behind the curtain with cellphones trained on me to catch my reaction to the prank. Then, when I saw that her tears weren't subsiding, I thought that maybe she'd mixed up her words, or was speaking in parables. Finally, the truth washed over me like a tidal wave that literally knocked me down; I staggered toward the couch, fell onto the nearest soft spot and started crying myself.
Through my tears, I tossed out a ray of hope: "How can you know for sure they're not mine?"
Miriam sniffled. "Because even before we stopped having sex, we were hardly doing anything back then anyway, Ed. I did the math, and I hadn't been with you either time. Besides, all three of them look just like their fa-ther. Trust me, they're not yours. I'm so sorry, Ed."
I wiped my eyes. "So ... Kaitlyn was born less than a year after we got married — how long were you seeing this guy? Who was he?"
Miriam covered her face with her hands. "It's ... it's Phil, Ed."
"Phil? Your boss?"
"Yes, Ed. I'm so sorry."
"So, what? You're ... you're STILL SEEING HIM?"
Miram blinked twice — a silent yes.
I thought about it for a second and the rage swelled my throat. "So, all this time I thought you couldn't have sex because of menopause — fourteen years, since the twins were born — and the whole time you were fucking Phil? And making me think the girls were mine?"
"I'm sorry, Ed, I'm sorrrrrrryyyy." Miriam shook with convulsions. She'd had never looked more shrunken and pathetic. My anger melted and I found myself feeling sorry for her.
I swallowed. "So ... do you even love me, Miriam?"
She broke into a renewed sob. "Of course, I love you, Ed. It's just ... you've got to understand — after I found that stuff you were posting on those websites about dressing up in my nylons ... I'm sorry, but I just didn't want to be intimate with you after that."
"So, you kept fucking your boss instead."
"Yes, Ed. I kept fucking my boss. Keep saying it that way — if you're trying to hurt me, it's working."
"Hurt you? Honey, you're the one who cheated on ME."
"No — YOU cheated on ME by going behind my back and wearing my pantyhose." Miriam's eyes flashed. "You never told me you were like that, Ed. How did you think I was going to react when I found out?"
"But you were with Phil even before you found out. Before Kaitlyn was born."
"Look, Ed, I said I was sorry, okay? What else do you want me to say?"
"Do you love him?"
Miriam didn't utter a word. It told me all I needed to know.
I ran my tongue over the roof of my mouth. "So, you love him AND me?"
"Is ... is that so crazy?"
"I ... I don't know, Miriam. Who knows what's crazy and what's not? I mean, I'm standing here in a goddamn ugly housedress."
My wife and I locked eyes and shared a giggle. It felt like a bag of bricks being lifted from my shoulders.
"The girls really get a kick out of you now," Miriam said.
I gritted my teeth, my anger rekindled. "You mean the girls who aren't mine?"
Miriam sighed. "Come on, Ed."
"Don't you mean Edna? Isn't that my name now?"
"Why are you doing this? Do you want to fight?" She tilted her head. "Do you want a divorce?"
"NO!" After I'd blurted it out, I was embarrassed at how quickly I'd answered.
Miriam rose from her chair and sat next to me on the couch. She rubbed my nylon-encased leg. "Good. I'm glad. I don't want a divorce, either. But I need to know — can you deal with me and Phil?"
"I don't know, honey. Everything's upside down. The girls think I'm trans. Now, I find out they aren't even my girls. And you ... you didn't hit menopause; you've been ... with your boss all this time. It just hurts, Miriam. It hurts real bad."
I started crying again and my wife leaned in for a hug. "It's not all bad, is it?" She stroked my hair. "Haven't things been nicer around here since you started living as trans?"
"Y-yeah," I sniffled. "Yeah, they have."
"Maybe change can be good." Miriam patted my cheek. "You never know."
I nodded. "So, what do we tell the girls?"
"We tell them. They're going to find out from that damn genealogy website anyway."
"Do you think they can handle it, honey?"
"Sure, they can. They're all pretty mature — you see how they handled catching you in drag. That could've been a disaster, and it turned into a positive for everyone."
I didn't tell her that as far as I was concerned, having to dress as a woman at home was decidedly NOT a positive. I'd done it to hold my family together, and thought for a hot minute that I was succeeding — only to find out I had no family.
Miriam broke my reverie: "I don't want to lie to the girls, and lead some double life. Not anymore. I think if we're going to tell them about Phil, they need to know everything."
"What? That you're still seeing him?"
"Yes." Miriam tightened her lips. "If he's going to continue to be in my life, I think the girls need to meet him — it wouldn't be fair to keep them from him after they find out he's their real dad. You know?"
I felt wrung out and barely summoned the strength for a weak nod.
Miriam stroked my ear. "You sure you're okay with all this, honey?"
With great effort, I nodded again.
Miriam nodded back and yelled, "Girls! Come down."
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I had met Phil Mansfield at work functions Miriam had dragged me to over the years. He was Polecat Publishing's Executive Editor and it wasn't hard to see why my wife had chosen him as a lover.
He was a swashbuckler, having won an Olympic Bronze Medal as a light-heavyweight boxer before a shoulder injury snu-ffed out his dreams of a pro career. He then earned his degree in journalism and became a war correspondent for national magazines, covering conflicts in Iraq, the Balkans, Russia and Afghanistan. By age 30, he'd lost his appetite for reporting and settled into the book editor's job — and then into his affair with my wife.
It also wasn't hard to see why Miriam didn't want to leave me for Phil. While he had a fancy title, Polecat was a mid-sized publishing house, and she would've taken a major financial hit if she'd relied on him as the primary breadwinner.
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The girls immediately read the tension in the room.
"Okay, you need to tell me what's going on because you're both acting REALLY weird," Hailey said.
Jenna folded her arms. "Yeah, Mom, what's up?"
"Sit down, girls." Miriam waved toward the couch and the three teens complied.
I stood at Miriam's side as she crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair. "I don't even know where to start. Um, Kaitlyn, if you send your DNA to that website, it's not going to tell you anything about your dad's family ... um, because he's not your real fa-ther."
The girls all looked at each other and then back at their mo-ther.
Hailey scratched her head. "Is ... is this a joke?"
"No, honey. It's not a joke." Miriam fidgeted. "I was going to tell you when you got older. I'm sorry."
Kaitlyn blinked at me. "Did you know about this? That you weren't our real dad?"
"Uh, no, honey, I just found out today, too."
Miriam nodded, causing a tear to break loose and slide down her cheek. "This is my fault, you guys. I'm so sorry you had to find out this way. I ... well, I'll just come out and say it: I had an affair. Actually, I'm still having an affair. With your fa-ther. Your real fa-ther. I don't know how else to explain this to you, but sometimes a person can love two people at the same time. I love your dad ... I mean, your Aunt Edna. But I also love Phil."
"That's our fa-ther's name?" Kaitlyn leaned forward. "Phil? Phil who?"
"Phil Mansfield. He's my boss at work. We've had a relationship since before you guys were born."
"And you kept it from us all this time?" Tears slithered down Jenna's face.
Kaitlyn added, "And you kept it from Da— uh, Aunt Edna?"
"Come on, Jenna, don't try to make Mom feel bad," Kaitlyn said. "I mean, it only makes sense — if Aunt Edna is really a woman trapped in a man's body, then Mom would need to have an actual man in her life."
Her comment stung but I kept my trap shut.
Hailey grinned. "Yeah, Ma — you're not a lesbian, are you?"
That broke the ice and everyone laughed, including me.
Kaitlyn asked her mo-ther, "Does our real fa-ther know about us — that we're his kids?"
"Sure, he does, honey, and he's wanted to have a relationship with you for so long. He really has. But we felt it was best if he just stayed in the background, and we figured someday the right time would come to introduce you."
Kaitlyn cocked her head. "So, are we gonna get to meet him?"
Miriam smiled. "Yes, I think that would be great, honey. Why don't we invite him over for dinner?"
The girls cheered.
I about pissed my panties.
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I had just finished cleaning the house and was getting ready to relax in bed when a strange phone number flashed on my cellphone screen. Thinking it was spam, I almost didn't answer it, but decided to pick up after five rings.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Ed? Or, I'm sorry — Edna?"
My blo-od ran cold. "Who is this?"
"It's Phil Mansfield. Miriam's ... um, from her work."
"I know who you are. Um, what ... what can I do for you?"
"Well, I got your number from Miriam. I thought we should talk."
I gripped my phone harder. "Okay. About what?"
"Everything. Listen, I know this is a weird situation, and we're all swimming in unchartered waters here. I know you love Miriam, and she loves you, too. But ... well, we love each other, too. She says she explained everything to you?"
"Yes, she explained it." My voice pissed acid.
Phil cleared his throat. "Well, look, I don't want any more problems than there already are, Ed ... or that's Edna, sorry. Miriam says you're finally embracing your true self?"
"Jeez, is there anything private? What other private shi-t do you guys talk about?"
"Relax, Edna, Miriam cares about you and she talks about you sometimes." Phil huffed into the phone. "She's not the bad guy here. I'm not, either."
"So, I am?"
"No, no, no — nobody's the bad guy, Edna. But you never told her who you are — she was devastated when she went on your computer and found all that stuff."
"And she ran and told you. I'm sure you guys got a big laugh out of it. I'm sure you got a big laugh out of screwing around behind my back — and me thinking the girls were my daug-hters." I didn't want to cry but I couldn't help it; I started bawling.
I got no sympathy.
"Look, Edna, goddamn it, you need to stop this horseshi-t right now. We've been dealt this deck of cards, and now we need to figure out how to deal with it — so, stop all the goddamn whining. Miriam says you don't want a divorce, and she says you're okay with us seeing each other. And now that the girls know, I want to meet them, Edna. I've been dying to have a relationship with them for a long time, but Miriam and I decided that would blow up your marriage and the kids would be the ones to get hurt. So, I stayed in the background. But she invited me over for dinner tomorrow and I'm coming. The question is: Are you gonna deal with this like a goddamn adult, or are you gonna keep pissing and moaning, and causing a bunch of problems? Miriam says you're okay with everything — I just need to know for myself, because the last thing I want is a bunch of bullshi-t. Are you? Okay with everything? If not, I'll just take the kids out to a restaurant, so I won't have to deal with any drama."
Despite the diatribe I wanted to launch at this asshole, all I could manage was, "Um, yeah."
"Yeah, what, Edna? Tell me."
"Yes, I'm ... I'm good with everything."
Phil popped his lips. "Wonderful. I'll see you at dinner then. Hey, what are you making?"
"Miriam wanted chicken parmesan. She, um, she said it's your favorite."
"Ugh, I just had chicken parm yesterday. Tell her I'd rather have steaks."
"Um, she doesn't really like changing the menu once she's decided on something. Believe me."
"Just tell her."
"Um, okay."
"Great, we'll see you tomorrow, Edna. Bye, now."
The line went dead. So did my brain.
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The steaks were broiling in the oven when the knock at the front door made everyone in the house jump.
Miriam and the girls had been nervous wrecks in the hours leading up to Phil's inaugural visit, while I'm not sure how I was able to hold it together. My office was closed for the holidays, so I had nothing to do all day but wait for the witching hour, 7pm, when our guest was scheduled to arrive.
He knocked at precisely 7:03pm. Miriam opened the door and they exchanged glances and a quick hug. He was a lot taller than I'd remembered, and Miriam had to tiptoe to embrace him before leading him into our home.
Before he'd taken three steps, the girls were upon him and they had a group hug in the foyer, with me the lone outsider. They must've embraced for a full two minutes, and it was clear they'd completely forgotten I was there.
They finally parted, and Phil had tears in his eyes when he said, "OMG, you girls are so beautiful. I've dreamt of this moment for so long — this is the happiest day of my life."
There wasn't a dry eye in the house other than mine.
Following a few more minutes of Phil, Miriam and their daug-hters going back and forth about how special the moment was, the kids' real dad finally addressed me:
"Hello, there, Edna. That's a nice dress."
"Uh, thanks."
"I appreciate how you're handling all this," Phil told me as the twins led him by each hand into the living room. "We'll figure out a way to make it work."
Everyone settled in while I excused myself to tend to the steaks. Miriam hadn't batted an eye earlier when I'd informed her that Phil wanted to change the menu — whereas with me, she'd have had a shi-t-fit, she merely shrugged and told me to go to the store to pick up porterhouses.
From my perch in the kitchen, I could see into the living room, and how entranced Miriam and the girls were with this handsome, uber-masculine new presence in our home who regaled them with stories about his boxing days and his adventures as a foreign war correspondent. By the time I announced that dinner was ready, Miriam and Phil had scooted together, and were holding hands while the girls beamed, clearly thrilled at the idea of their biological fa-ther and mo-ther being together. I had to admit — they looked perfect as a couple, as if they were born for each other.
When everyone sat down to eat, I brought the platter of meat to the dining room and found Miriam sitting in my usual chair, abdicating her spot at the head of the table to Phil. There wasn't an open seat for me, something that in my nervousness I hadn't considered while preparing for the evening.
I stood there awkwardly for a few minutes while everyone dug in and continued listening to Phil. Finally, Kaitlyn noticed me. "Hey, Aunt Edna, where are you gonna sit?"
I shrugged. "I ... I don't know. There aren't enough chairs. I guess I can bring my desk chair in from the den."
"That big thing?" Miriam frowned. "There's not enough room at the table, Edna — that chair's huge."
"I've got a beanbag in my room you can use," Kaitlyn offered, and without waiting for an answer she dashed up the stairs, returning seconds later lugging a purple beanbag chair, which she set on the floor next to Phil.
"Thanks, honey," I said, grabbing my plate and sinking into the beanbag which was only a few inches off the ground.
Phil already was a full foot taller than me, but sitting on my low perch further highlighted the difference. The table was at face level — and my nose wasn't too far from Phil's crotch, either, as he relaxed in what was normally Miriam's chair, wooing his female audience with an endless string of colorful stories and anecdotes. I had to set my plate on my lap to eat, since the table was too high. I felt like I was eating at the kid's table, left out of the conversation above me.
The only time anyone talked to me throughout the entire meal was when Hailey asked me to bring the steak sauce — and when Miriam jokingly chided me to keep my knees together while sitting on the beanbag chair, because, as she said to everyone's great amusement, "it's not ladylike to have your legs spread out like that so everyone can see your business."
During dessert, Jenna said something to Phil that broke my heart:
"It's so cool to have a real dad like you."
As her sisters and mo-ther nodded in agreement, I excused myself and headed to the bathroom, where I had a good cry. My pity party lasted several minutes before I was able to pull myself together. I knew the worst thing I could possibly do would be to rain on everyone's good time by moping, so I put a few drops of Visine in my eyes, fixed my makeup and flushed the toilet to pretend I'd just taken a crap, whereas the opposite had just happened — I felt like I'd been shi-t on. Still, I swallowed my pride, squared my ruffled shoulders and headed back out to the living room to rejoin what had once been my family.
As soon as I got back, Phil raised his finger and said, "Hey-a, Edna, you guys got any beer?"
Miriam answered before I could: "There's a six-pack of Michelob in the fridge; I had Edna pick it up because I know it's your favorite."
"Oh, great — you think you could grab me a cold one, there, Edna?" Beneath Phil's smile lurked a smirk.
"Uh, s-sure. Anyone else want anything to dri-nk?"
Nobody answered because their attention was on Phil, who held my wife's hand as he sat like a king at the head of my dinner table.
When I returned from the kitchen with a can of Michelob, Phil frowned. "Listen, Edna, if you don't mind, I really prefer my beer in a glass."
I gritted my teeth. "Uh, sure. One sec."
When I set the glass down in front of him, Phil picked it up, took a long gulp, and said, "Ahhhhh! That hit the spot. But to be honest, I really like dri-nking beer out of a chilled mug — so from now on, do you think you can keep one in the freezer when I come over, Edna?"
The nerve! All I could manage, however, was a tepid, "Um, yeah, s-sure."
Hailey's face brightened. "Hey, Dad, maybe you could move in with us, and Edna could keep the glasses chilled all the time."
He chuckled and glanced at Miriam. "I don't know, honey — maybe someday."
I excused myself and headed back to the bathroom, devastated that Hailey had suggested Phil move in with us only hours after meeting him — and the fact that she'd already used the 'D' word didn't help, either. After only a few hours, I'd been replaced as "Dad." I was now "Aunt Edna." Phil was "Dad."
The handsome, charming, intelligent, worldly rugged bastard stuck around bonding with his new family until after 11pm, while I hung around on the sidelines unnoticed, feeling every bit like a pathetic sissy cuckold in my makeup and dress — and while that scenario had been the subject of innumerable jerkoff fantasies, I was decidedly NOT turned on by what was happening.
By the time Phil had hugged everyone (except me) and said his goodbyes with the promise that he'd be in touch the next day to plan a New Year's outing, I was emasculated in every sense of the word. And not in a good way.
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