The Writer’s Secret Ch. 01-02


Hi everybody! This is one of the many stories I’ve written over the years. I’ve decided to clean them up (read: edit the heck out of them) and start sharing them. This one has some light-femdom, a pretty willing husband, and a few fun surprises. Enjoy!


Loren had no idea what he was getting into when his agent suggested he write transvestite fiction. Nor did he realize how eagerly his wife Stephanie would embrace the idea of feminizing her husband. How far would they go?

Chapter 1: “Loren’s New Genre”

Loren Candéze sat on his couch reading the book he’d purchased from the internet. He laughed. His wife Stephanie, who sat on the other end of the couch reading a magazine looked up. She brushed her platinum tresses back over her shoulder with a wave of her hand and ran her red fingernails through the layers of her hair.

“What’s so funny, Loren?”

Loren held up his electronic reader. “This!”

“I guessed that much, dear,” she said and smiled.

He chuckled. “Sorry. It’s this story I’m reading. Cindy called me the other day—”

“Your agent?”

“The same. She said her firm had done a study of what types of books people were buying these days. It sounds like political thrillers are dying out, so she wants me to try another genre.”

Stephanie raised an eyebrow. “And what genre is that?”

“That’s the funny thing. You’ll never guess what’s selling right now?”

She closed her magazine, slid her feet out of her wedge-heeled slippers and pulled her legs up beneath her on the couch. “Romance?”

Loren smiled. “Sort of.”

“Give me a hint.”

“Ok, it has to do with what you’re wearing.”

Stephanie furrowed her brow. “You’ve lost me, I have no idea.”

“Transvestite fiction.”

Stephanie looked stunned. “As in guys in dresses?!”


“Let me see if I’m hearing you right. Your agent Cindy, a very nice respectable woman who owns a minivan, wants you to write stories about men who dress like women?”

“Weird, huh?”

“That doesn’t begin to describe it.” Stephanie folded her arms. “Are you considering this?”

“Sure, why not? I don’t care what I write, I just want to make money.”

Stephanie frowned. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, what are we going to tell people at parties? ‘Here’s my husband Loren, he writes stories about men who dress like women.’ I would die of embarrassment!”

“We don’t have to tell people.”

“This could ruin your reputation if it gets out.”

“It won’t get out. I’ll use a fake name.”

They sat silently for some time as Loren watched his wife process this information. She seemed opposed.

“Is the money really that good?” she asked.

“Cindy’s memo says it is. She also says she’s got a publisher lined up who is waiting for all the stories I can write, so I’m guaranteed to get this published. Something I’ve never been with my thrillers.”

Stephanie smiled slyly and scrunched her nose. “There’s not something you’re not telling me here, is there?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going through my closet when I’m at work?”

Loren laughed. “No. I’ve never worn women’s clothes, even at Halloween.”

“And you’re not going to suddenly start wearing my clothes, are you?” she asked cautiously.

“No, of course not.”

“This is just about money?”


She seemed assured. “I guess it’s up to you, but it still doesn’t sound like a great idea if anyone finds out. Your reputation as a macho thriller writer will be finished.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Like I said, I’ll write under a nom de plume. I’ll be Jessica Chambers.”

“No, you’re not using my last name.”

“Fine, I’ll think of something.”

She quietly shook her head and returned to her magazine. Then she set her magazine down again. “Wait a minute. You always tell me, ‘only write about what you know.’ If you’ve never worn women’s clothes before, as you claim, then how can you write about it?”

“I’ve never skydived before or smuggled a gun into Albania either, but that’s what I wrote about in my last Louis Rock novel.”

“Was he wearing panties when he did it?” she asked with a wink.

“Ha ha. Seriously though, I don’t need to be a crossdresser to write this stuff, I just have to do research. I’ll read some of the books to see what others are writing and I’ll fake it. And if I need to know something about women’s clothes, I’ll ask you, my expert.”

“What makes you think I’ll help?”

“Because you’re my wife and you want me to succeed. Because when I get rich and famous. . . or at least rich, then we can spend all our time on luxury vacations.”

She cooed. “I do like the sound of that.”

“I knew you would.”

A mischievous glint appeared in her eye. “I’ll tell you what, I will help you out.”

“I knew you would.”

“Tell me about this story, the one that made you laugh.”

He picked up his electronic reader. “This?” He laughed and shook his head. “It’s total garbage.”

“How Bahis Sitesi so?”

“Well, for starters, the characters are ridiculous. Listen to this:

“I was the world’s most macho man until my wife got through with me. Now I’m a simpering sissy. This is the story of the horror that happened to me. Five years ago, I was the world’s most macho man. My name was Mr. Brandy Highheals.”

“Can you believe that? The writing is awful. There’s no subtlety. It’s repetitive. It’s contradictory. On the one hand, the writer’s trying to tell you the guy is some macho archetype, but his name is actually ‘Brandy Highheals,’ spelled with an ‘ea’ instead of an ‘ee’? What kind of garbage is that?”

Stephanie smirked. “Can I say something?”

“Of course.”

“I’m not pointing this out to criticize or anything, but your first name ‘Loren’ is the same as the girl’s name ‘Lauren,’ it’s just spelled differently. And your last name, ‘Candéze’ often gets transcribed on shipping labels when I order something over the phone as ‘Candies,’ which are a sexy little form of women’s shoe. So while you laugh at poor Mr. Brandy Highheals, you are similarly afflicted: your name is pretty darn close to Lauren Candies.”

Loren scowled at his wife. “What’s your point?”

“My point is this isn’t as unrealistic as you make it out to be.”

“Really?! Ok, listen to this. The author goes on to describe our super-macho hero Brandy. He describes him as 5′ 2″ tall and weighing all of 109 pounds. He also has size six feet and shoulder length hair.”

Stephanie smirked again. “No, I agree. That’s not a normal male and certainly not a macho one.”

“I’m glad you recognize that.”

“But let me point out that not all males are hulking, muscular giants. In fact, you and I are about the same size.”

“I am not that small,” he said defensively.

“Yes you are, dear. If you lost 20 pounds, we could easily share a wardrobe.

And I can prove it.”


“Easy. Let’s go see if my clothes fit you?”

“No way!”

“Don’t be such a little girl about it, Loren! If you want to write about men who wear women’s clothes, the least you can do is try some on. . . who knows, you might even like it?” She fought to contain a smirk.

Loren folded his arms and shook his head.

Stephanie laughed. “Chicken?” Loren looked uncomfortable. Stephanie knew how to push Loren’s buttons and calling him a coward was the biggest button in the whole set of button. “Come on, dear. No one will know.”

“You’ll know.”

“I’m your wife, I’m allowed to know these things. Think of it as research.”

They sat in silence for several seconds as Loren struggled with knowing that he should take her up on this offer and yet fearing being seeing in women’s clothes. Then it hit him, he was already learning part of what he needed to know to write these stories. His fear of being seen was something he could use as a basis for writing his first story.

“Ok,” he finally agreed. “I think this could be valuable research.”

Stephanie set the magazine on the coffee table and slid her feet back into her slippers. “That’a girl, Laura!”

To his surprise, Loren felt a tingle rush down his spine and his penis swell when his wife called him by a feminine name. This was going to be an interesting experience.

Chapter 2: “Laura Is Born”

A couple minutes later, they were in their bedroom. Stephanie sat at her vanity table looking through her makeup as Loren sat on the bed. He was naked except for a white cotton robe he’d covered himself with after Stephanie told him to strip.

“Since this is only for one night. . . I presume,” she said, winking at Loren.

“Yes, one night only,” he confirmed.

“. . . then I won’t make you shave off your body hair. But normally, no self-respecting woman would ever slide on hose if her legs were hairy and she certainly wouldn’t allow a hairy chest. Of course, your chest isn’t that hairy, but still.” She flipped through a jewelry box. “If this were longer term, I’d also make you get your ears pierced, but there’s no reason to do that just for tonight.”

“Thank God for small favors.”

“Don’t get smart with me, young lady!” she laughed as she pulled a pair of clip-on earrings from her jewelry box. She turned to Loren. “Ok, I’m ready.”

“Can’t wait,” he said sarcastically.

“Now you’re sure you’ve never dressed up before?”


“Not even a pair of panties?”

Loren rolled his eyes. “Not even.”

“Ok, then let’s start with the basics.” She handed him a pair of pink cotton panties. They weren’t particularly ornate as they had no lace, no bows, and no ribbons. Indeed, they weren’t designed to be anything but functional. But they were panties, and they were pink, and Loren felt extremely funny holding them. For a moment, he didn’t know if he could slide them on or not. Part of him wanted to, but part of him felt sheer terror.

Loren took a deep breath, shifted uncomfortably, and then slowly raised his right Bahis Siteleri leg to slide his foot into the panties.

“‘atta girl!” Stephanie said and patted her husband on the head. She pushed his arm away to get a clear view of his penis. “Yep, still there. . . and excited too!”

“I didn’t think it was going to fall off,” he said.

“You sure acted like you did,” she countered. “Care to explain the excitement?”

Loren shot her an annoyed look but didn’t speak. Instead, he stepped his left leg into the panties and pulled them us his legs. As he did, Stephanie went to her underwear drawer, where she retrieved a pair of tan pantyhose. Next, she grabbed a floral housedress from the closet. The dress was off-white in color with a red, black and green flower pattern, a square collar which exposed several inches of shoulder blade and a loose hem which stopped just below the knees. Stephanie laid the housedress on the bed next to Loren.

“You want me to wear that?” he asked apprehensively.

“Unless you want to walk around with your thingy sticking out,” she said condescendingly and she returned to her vanity table. She picked up a pink lipstick. “Pucker up, dear.” Loren did as she asked and she painted his lips. Next, she clipped the earrings onto his ears. They were one inch long silver drops. They felt very heavy to Loren as they tugged on his earlobes.

“None of this is permanent, right?”

“Sure it is, dear. It’ll never come off. That’s why women have to reapply it each day,” she said sarcastically as she applied eye shadow to his eyes and blush to his cheeks. “Don’t be such a baby.” Next she grabbed a pink bra from the vanity. It matched the panties. “This is a big moment dear, your first bra!” She giggled as she attached it behind his back and showed him how to bring the straps up over his arms. She stood back and looked at her work. “Hmm. Something’s missing.” She snapped her fingers. “I know!” She walked over to her underwear drawer and grabbed a handful of panties. She folded these and padded the bra with them until Loren had small, budding breasts.

“Aren’t these a little. . . uh, large?”

“No, not for a girl. They’re barely an A-cup, if that.”

“They look way bigger.”

“Mine are C’s, and you think those are too small.”

“No I don’t, honey! Your breasts are great!” He moved to kiss her, but she stopped him.

“Don’t smear the lipstick, dear.”

“Spoilsport,” he said.

She grinned at him and handed him the pantyhose. “To put these on, roll them up until you can put your toe straight into the end. Then pull them up your leg to your knee. Slide in the other foot. Then pull the whole thing up to your waist.”

As he pulled the pantyhose up his legs, Stephanie couldn’t help but notice his erection, which had escaped the panties, bouncing up and down in his lap. He was excited, even if he refused to admit it. She was getting a real kick out of this herself, much more than she expected when she maneuvered Loren into agreeing to let her dress him up.

“So what happened next to Brandy? Tell me about the wife?”

Loren struggled to pull the pantyhose up over his erection. “Oh, she’s a frustrated Amazon. She’s five-nine—”

“Seven inches taller than her macho husband, huh?” Stephanie scoffed. She and Loren were the same height, but in her heels she was often a good deal taller than him, something she liked to rub in now and then because she knew it bothered him.

“Yeah. But she’s got insane measurements. She’s 105 pounds and has double ‘D’ breasts, which Brandy keeps wishing were bigger.”

“Clearly, he knows nothing about breasts. What do we know about her?” She picked up the reader. “Oh, this is good.” She read:

“Before she became my wife, Candi was my high school sweetheart. When I single-handedly won the state championship as quarterback and captain of our football team, she was the head cheerleader cheering me on. So were the other cheerleaders too, if you get my drift. She cheered me on too when I single-handedly scored 45 unanswered points to win the state basketball tournament. I was the captain of that team too.”

Stephanie laughed. “That’s pathetic.” She kept skimming the story. “Looks like she’s big on miniskirts and tight tops. Wow, she wears five-inch heels to lounge around the house!”

Loren smiled at his wife. “If I have to play Mr. Brandy tonight, then you should play Ms. Candi.”


“Yes, you.”

“No can do, girly, I don’t have any heels higher than four inches and I only wear those on special occasions.”

“This is a special occasion, go strap ’em on!”

Stephanie rolled her eyes, but went to her closet. She was enjoying this too much to stop just yet. She removed her robe and slid a tight white mini-dress over her shoulders, smoothing it down her hips and thighs. Then she slipped her feet into her kidskin, four-inch high-heeled, open-toed, slingback pumps. The red polish on her toenails showed through the tan stocking she still wore from work. “I hope you appreciate this,” Canlı Bahis Sitesi she said as she returned to her vanity. She looked at Loren’s intense erection beneath his pantyhose and giggled. “Yeah, you’re appreciating this all right!”

Loren covered his erection with the housedress, which he now unzipped so he could slide it over his head.

“So how does poor Brandy end up getting all gussied up?” she asked.

“I have no idea, I hadn’t gotten that far.” He was having problems working the tiny zipper.

Stephanie picked up the reader and skimmed the story. “Hmm. He actually does it to himself.”

“He was a crossdresser the whole time?”

“No, he claims this was the first time. He gets all upset at his wife, goes into a diatribe about how men are men and women are gross and that he’s not a sissy. Then he storms off to the bedroom where he sees her panties. For reasons he can’t explain, he slides those on. They feel so good he tries on a blouse and then a pair of her six-inch heels.” She shook her head. “Six-inch heels? This is ridiculous!”

“I told you. Is that when she catches him?”

She kept reading. “Nope. . . oh goodie!” She looked at her husband and smiled. “Since we’re re-enacting this book, I get to catch you jerking off with my panties!”

He furrowed his brow. “Uh, no.”

“Come on dear, you’re hard enough. In fact, you’re so hard I’d be afraid your little guy might explode if you don’t relieve the pressure. Why don’t you give it a couple tugs? I won’t tell anyone.” She smiled mischievously and he didn’t know if she was serious or not.

“I’ll pass.”

“Your loss. Why don’t you finish getting dressed.”

Loren slid the floral housedress over his head and stood up so Stephanie could zip him up. His penis stood at attention, even though it was beneath the pantyhose. This caused the dress to tent out.

In her heels, Stephanie stood four inches taller than her husband, so she looked down over his shoulder at his erection. She chuckled. Then she looked at their height difference and chuckled again. “We need to get you some shoes, shorty.”

Loren felt his erection pulse. It always humiliated him whenever she reminded him how short he was because he felt it was unmanly to be smaller than his wife. Tonight, however, the humiliation came with a new sensation: excitement. In fact, the excitement was so strong that for a brief moment he wanted her to say it again. This shocked him. Why did he want his wife to humiliate him? Where had this come from? He wasn’t sure.

Meanwhile, Stephanie walked over to her closet. In her four-inch slingbacks, her hips rolled sexily from side to side as she walked, which excited Loren tremendously. As she bent down and picked up a pair of shoes he wanted so badly to go over and rub her body. But he stayed put.

Stephanie rose and held the shoes up for Loren to see. They were tan, patent leather pumps with a small open toe. They had two-inch heels. “I think these are good starter heels for you. They’re pumps, not sandals, so they give a lot of support. Also they have a real heel, so you can experience walking in heels, but they’re low enough you should be able to master them pretty quickly.”

“Heels, huh?”

“Yep. A girl’s best friend. And best of all, you’ll still be shorter than I am,” she said happily. “I like my sissies short!”

There was the excitement again. As she said this, his penis pulsed in the panties. It felt like it could explode at any second. This confused him. Part of him wanted to tell his wife to stop making fun of him and to stop treating him like her own personal toy, but another part craved the electric shock her words gave him. It surprised him to realize he actually seemed to wanted her to humiliate him. He didn’t know how to handle this.

Loren took the heels and sat down to slip them onto his feet as his wife stood next to him. “How hard can this be?” he asked rhetorically. He found out when he stood up. It took him a moment to gain his balance, though everything seemed ok. But then he took his first step and nearly fell down.

“Seeeexy!” said his wife and she whistled.

He looked away from her. “Do you mind, this is hard enough as it is.”

She reached out and patted his penis through the floral dress. “So it is,” she purred.

“Stop that!” He pushed her hand away and she giggled.

She folded her arms. “Look dear, it’s simple.” She put one hand on Loren’s stomach. “Stomach in.” Then she put the other hand on his back. “Chest out.” She lifted his chin with her thumb. “Head up. Don’t look down.”

“How can I see where I’m going?”

“You can’t, you have to plan ahead. Now, when you start off, you need to keep your feet together. Pretend you’re walking on a tightrope. Take little sissy steps. And when you step, point your toe, but bring your heel down first. Let the sole of your shoe follow quickly and smoothly. Then make sure your foot is firmly planted before you lift your other foot. Balancing on a thin heel takes some practice.” She demonstrated with her own heels.

Loren took a deep breath. “I can do this.” His first step was graceful. His next two weren’t.

“Whoa!” she said. “Do what you did with the first step, just do it slower. Now swing your arms as you walk, like this.” She demonstrated how he should move his arms.