The Christmas Gift, Pt. 7

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I stood in the shower flummoxed by the news.

"You bought me a dress?"

Sam nodded. I tried not to admire her presence. Tried to forget she had just held her huge cock and peed standing up. Tried to ignore that I wasn't repulsed or jealous of her having a cock.

I stomped my foot in the water. "I'm not meeting with Andrew and Bridgette like this!"

Steam billowed around my curves. Hot water cascaded from the showerhead, pouring over my womanly flesh, splitting into two streams as it met each nipple, moving around them, diverted by their hard reality, following a smooth path down my tight little tummy, over my clit, and into the flatness between my legs before moving down my thighs. The water was a constant flow, carressing my body and continually reminding me that I was a woman now. 

Sam shrugged and stepped towards the shower. She opened the door. Steam poured into the cool of the bathroom around her.

My wife's cock lurched to the side. I knew she was getting hard. It was already so big, even when it wasn't even half hard. A thick monster slowly filling. I looked at her pleadingly, my face in panic. What would our friends say if they saw us this way? What would Andrew think?

In this body, with these tits. . . I looked willing. Willing to be a female. Willing to be fucked by the man in front of me. How could I tell them this wasn't my idea?

I had been too rash. 

I didn't think before agreeing. 

True, by the time I had agreed to my wife's plan, the pills were already working within me. She had tricked me. Tainted my pancakes and put me in this tight, buxom body.

Fuck. Thinking of how Andrew and Bridgette would see me, I suddenly felt silly. Why had I liked the idea of being decked in the sumptuous lingerie my wife had bought me for Christmas? Why had possessing a body that could be displayed in the satiny embrace of the bra cups, the lace and stockings, the garters, the entire package — why, why, why had it all been so appealing?

"You have to give me a blue pill. I have to change back." I flicked my neck. I wasn't happy.

Sam stepped into the shower. He was so tall. He stepped close to me and looked down. I cocked my head and gazed upward. His now half-hard cock pressed into my hip bone. Getting harder. For some reason, it didn't bother me that it was there.

"That's not how this works," Sam whispered.

Anger welled within me. I sent a soft punch into Sam's muscular pecs. "Then how does it work?"

Sam quickly cupped my crotch, stretching his middle finger just slightly to make contact with my clit.

My head cocked back father.

I bit my lip.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

"Please." I moaned. "We have to cancel."

"Eddy." he whispered, moving his middle finger slightly to the side. I closed my eyes.

My name was Eddie. Starting with a soft "eh" — yet now Sam's pronunciation rang in my ears. A hard "e". An E, then a D.

Sam's finger moved. I sunk into his hand. It cupped my sex and I felt as if it was the only thing holding me up. He whispered my name again. Deeply. "Oh, my tight little Eddy."

I tried to fight it. I promise, I tried. I looked up into his eyes. His face was expressionless. I tried to ignore how much my clit wanted to be touched. How much I didn't miss my cock at this moment. I mustered all the strength in me to speak. "Please. Just text them and say we can't do it."

He hooked his middle finger. It spread my lips and entered me. I breathed in deeply. Steam. Heat. It was just the very tip of his finger. I settled in to meet it, taking it deeper.

"You will be a good little wife and cook dinner tonight for your husband and our guests." He moved his finger slowly, in and out. I moaned and grabbed hold of his sides. My tits pressed into his torso. My nipples met hard muscles. I tried to make amends with the two words now echoing in my mind. Husband. And Wife.

"You will shower. Put on makeup — and the outfit I have bought for you." His finger moved. I fucked back. "You will put on an apron and high heels. You will fix dinner, pour wine for our guests, be a good little housewife and hostess."

I moaned. I shook my head slightly — no — not enough for Sam to see my disagreement. I didn't want to upset him. To lose the attention of his finger.

"Do you understand?"

I dropped my head to his chest and held on. His cock pressed into me. I could see it there, rock hard, the monster, the one I had just had in my mouth. So close. I was half of the mind to bend down and kiss it.

Oh, fuck. I was suddenly a mix of competing emotions. Close to tears but rocked in pleasure. Terrified of being seen as a woman but lips spread, taking in my husband's finger, feeling like a wanton little wife, pussy cupped, a finger shallow in my pussy in this steaming shower, in bliss, new tits weighing heavy on my back, bulging into Sam's chest, the thought of my face adorned in makeup, my body on display — what outfit had Sam chosen for me?

My neck craned back in an instant and I moaned out. The echo had nowhere to go in the shower. It resounded around us.

"I said: Do you understand?"

Sam's finger was deep. To the knuckle. All the way in. I had taken too long to answer him.

I nodded.

"Say, 'yes, dear. I understand.'"

I licked my lips. He was inside of me. My husband was inside of me.

"Yes. . .dear. I understand."

He moved his finger in and out to reward me. I bucked on his hand, tits bobbing into his chest, fucking back. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Will you be taking a blue pill?"

I shook my head. "No."

"What will you do instead?"

He was fucking me with his finger, slowly, in and out. It was better. It was better than when I had done it in the bath. I was lost, not knowing when he would stop, not knowing how he would move.

Oh, god. Was I really going to do this?

Suddenly, without warning, I felt a second thick finger slip inside of me.

"I asked you a question." He slid it slowly beside her other finger until I was full. God, my husband had thick fingers. Why did calling Sam my husband seem to make it better? I spoke softly between moans.

"I will put on makeup." Sam nodded. "And the outfit."

"What else?"

"An apron. High heels. . . but I can't walk in high heels?"

He pumped his finger within me. The walls of my pussy hugged it tightly. "Will you learn to walk in high heels?"

I nodded.

"And?"

"And I will fix dinner, pour wine for our guests."

"And will you be a good little housewife and hostess?"

I nodded. My clit was swelling into Sam's grip.

"Say it."

"I will be a good little housewife." I moaned. "And hostess."

Sam smiled.

"But."

He scowled. "But what?"

It took all of my courage to say it. Even in the hot shower my skin filled with goosebumps. "But then I want to change back."

I winced. Expecting a thrust from Sam, or worse, some kind of physical reaction. His presence over me was palpable — and something deep inside of me also didn't want to upset my wife. However, she did not move. She simply said. "As you like, Eddie." The name hit like a blast from a shotgun. My nipples ached. I didn't want to be called Eddie.

"When dinner is over you can change back."

I nodded sadly, savoring the two thick fingers inside of me, feeling suddenly ashamed.

"You want to go back to being a man?"

I nodded softly, trying to understand why Sam was being so agreeable, and why it bothered me.

”As you wish,” Sam said.

We stood quietly for a moment. I wanted his finger to start moving again, but it didn't.

I looked up into Sam's eyes, searching them for any emotion.

She spoke. "Eddy?"

I was so pleased to hear my feminine name again.

"Yes?" I looked up with puppy dog eyes. After all, at the end of all of this, Sam was still my wife. And I wanted her happy.

Water cascaded around us. Steam rose and swirled. My pussy felt full. Sam's hard cock pulsed at my middle, against my tummy.

"Suck my cock."

I didn't miss a beat.

I moved.

It was instantaneous. 

A spoken husbandly command. 

A wife taking orders. 

I didn't need to be asked twice. 

I didn't think about it.

I fell to my knees so quickly.

I had wanted it since Sam stepped in the shower and hardened against my tummy.

I sucked passionately, thrilled for Sam's request. A request that absolved me of taking what I wanted — because Sam had asked. 

I sucked his cock like his good little wife. 

I played my role.

When his cock was in my mouth, I could play my role better. On my knees there was no denying I was a woman and Sam was a man and there were certain things required of us. 

It felt safe.

I loved being on my knees.

I loved his cock in my mouth.

I pressed my big lips together and kissed his thick cock, took a long lick over its veiny topography — proud Sam had one so big. I savored it. Soon we would be changed back to our old selves and I wouldn’t have my wife’s thick, delicious cock to suck on.

So I sucked it, I made the most of it, taking it deep.

I sucked it until he moaned and came into my mouth and down my throat in the shower. I wanted all of it. It made my clit swell to take all of it. 

I realized, this would be hard to say goodbye to: my wife exploding into my mouth. 

I moaned over Sam's cock as his hands danced in my hair, petting me. 

"Good girl." 

He was pleased. I nearly wagged my ass, like wagging my tail.

Sam grabbed my chin and moved my face to look at her. "My wife is a good girl, isn't she?"

I opened my mouth so Sam could see his come on my tongue, relishing the look of surprise on his face.

Then I swallowed. 

"Sam?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Can I see my new outfit?"

"After you bathe me."

I nodded. I grabbed the bottle of body wash from the floor of the shower and stood. A loofah was hanging by the shower. I squirted soap and worked up the suds. Then I washed my husband's balls as I stroked my hand over his tight abs. It felt right to start there, and for some reason I can't understand, I bathed her entire body without finding it strange to be bathing a man in the shower. 

Once I was done, Sam told me I was a good wife. "I'll prepare your outfit. Now bathe yourself."

I nodded. I took my time. 

The suds rolled down my body and down my flat crotch. I was already starting to forget what my cock felt like.

It was nice to be alone. I would have been embarrassed to bathe myself in front of Sam like this — to have him see how much I was enjoying it. 

My body. . .

. . . it was starting to feel so comfortable.

I thought of Andrew and Bridgette. I wondered what they would think about my body. I wondered if Andrew would try to check me out — I was definitely prettier than Bridgette by a long shot. My tits were way bigger than hers. 

I pushed my chest out — my nipples erect. 

Why did I want her to be jealous? 

.

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Thank you for reading! Part 8 is coming. What do you think so far? - BL Quick