Lunch With Mother

By: Bea

I had seen her car pull in to the driveway, so wasn't surprised to hear her
knock at the door.
"C'mon in,"  I yelled  "The door's open."
I was positioned, sitting in the kitchen breakfast nook, the sun shining in the
window behind me - just as I'd planned it.  She came in, elegant as ever in a
two-piece tailored suit, gray, white blouse, scarlet scarf tucked discreetly
under the jacket lapels.  Not wearing her glasses, I was glad to see.

"Looking good Mother"  I said  "Coffee's on.  Grab a cup and come sit beside
me."
"Too lazy to get up and pour your old Mother a coffee?"  She grumbled, but
pleasantly enough, walking over to the machine and pouring.  As she walked back
towards me, she peered into the sun at my back.
"If you can't see, Mother, I'll move..."  I offered.

My Mother is a classy lady - but has one blind spot of gigantic proportion - she
won't admit that she can't see worth a damn without her glasses. She has
problems with contacts, but refuses to wear her framed glasses unless it's
absolutely necessary - and sometimes not even then!

"No, no, no."  she said  "I can see fine.  Now what's the reason you want me
here?"
"Do I have to have a reason?"  I asked blandly.
"Guess not"  she answered, smiling  "It's just unusual for you to want to
see me on a work day.  Are you sick?"
"Of course  not, Mother"  I answered in turn.  "Just need to talk to you."
"Don't tell me you want some advice?"  She asked  "That'll be something new.  Or
are you and Jill having some problems?"

It was the opening I needed, but I still paused.  "No.." I said slowly, drawing
it out. "But something has come up."
"This sounds juicy"  she gushed  "But let me have a cigarette before you start. 
Want one?
I hadn't had a cigarette in a long time, but craved tobacco all of a sudden.
"Why not?"  I said, and took one  "I don't have a light"  I said.
"Oh, that's easy"  she said  "Here, let me"  and held her lighter out, the flame
rising.
And all of a sudden, I realized my error.
"Oh, light your own, then give me your lighter"  I said, calmly enough.
She looked puzzled, but did as I suggested.  Very carefully, I lit the first of
my afternoon's cigarettes, putting the lighter on the table between us.

Both of us took long, contemplative draws of tobacco.  She took a sip of
her coffee.
"Well?"  She asked.
"I'm in a little trouble with Jill."  I said.
"Anything I can do?"  She asked
"Not really"  I replied, then took a sip of my own coffee.
"Well... maybe."  I amended, realizing that I had to start somewhere. "She wants
me to be her wife"  I said, quietly and quickly.
Mother sat up quickly in her chair. "Did I hear you right?  She wants you to be
her what?"
I blushed a little.  "Afraid you heard correctly Mother.  She's had bees in her
bonnet about this for some time now ..."
"I did hear you right?  You said 'wife'?"  She said then, seeing my little nod
of acceptance, "But you're her husband, for God's sake!  What in the hell is
this all about?  She wants you to get a sex change?  Is that what this lunch is
for?  Get my reaction?"

Mother doesn't swear, nor repeat herself.  In a few seconds she had done both. 
I couldn't help grinning a little.  She caught my change of expression.
"Oh goodness!"  She exclaimed  "Having a little fun at poor old mother's
expense?"
"No.. not really"  I interjected  "I wasn't kidding."
"Would you be so kind as to fill me in then?  What's led to this .. status ..
change you two seem to be considering?"

I took a deep breath.  "It all started last Halloween.  We had been invited to a
big party with Jill's group but had decided not to go until a few days before. 
When we started looking around for costumes, all the good ones were gone.."
Mother exhaled some smoke  ".. And she suggested that you both cross dress,
right?"
"To be honest, it was my idea"  I admitted.
Mother shook her head.  "Keep going.  What did you wear?"
My mouth was dry.  "A black dress of hers."
"That ugly long thing she wore at my birthday party?"
"No.  It's a sort of evening dress.."
"Oh.  The strapless one with the chiffon overblouse and skirt?"
I nodded.
"What did you wear underneath?"  She asked suspiciously.
I grimaced.  Said nothing.
"You wore full lingerie, didn't you?"  She sighed.
I nodded.

She took a pull at her cigarette, then stubbed it in the ashtray.  I had done
the same, making a point to shred the dog-end into tiny pieces of paper, before
letting it rest there. She leant back in her chair, peering at me, the sun in
her eyes.
"You know, there is something different about.."
This was an area I didn't want investigated right then.
"I wore high heels too"  I blurted.
She tilted her head to one side.
"Well, that would stand to reason, I'd think.  Makeup and jewelry?  Nails
polished?  Perfume?  What did you do for hair?  Your hair seems to be a bit
longer, but surely it wasn't enough.."
I had been nodding to affirm her questions as she worked her way through
them.
"Wig."  I interjected.
"Didn't you have a problem with the shoes?"  She asked.
I blushed again.  "I practiced at home for a day or two before the party."
"Ooh la la"  she snorted  "That must've been be cute for Jill. Having her
husband flit around in high heels for a day or so.  Did you rehearse wearing the
dress too?"
"Oh please Mother.  Of course not"  I protested.
She shook her head in wonderment.  "Don't tell me.  You went to the party, and
were the belle of the ball.  Get danced by all the boys?"
"No!"  I said forcefully.  "I danced with women only.  In fact, most of the
time, Jill danced with me."
She looked puzzled, then thought of another question.
"How many times did you lead when you were dancing?"
I hung my head, and she caught on immediately.
"You practiced taking the ladies part too, didn't you?"
My silence was answer enough.
"Go on."  She commanded gently.  "C'mon.  Tell me more about that night.
What happened?"
My face went on fire, but I started again. "Once I was dressed, she started
treating me like the girl.  It was kinda fun. She'd compliment me, pat me on the
backside, put her arm around me."
"Did the clothes turn you on?" Mother asked.
"No!"  I said quickly, then  "Well.. kinda.  Felt kinda sexy, swirling
around me, her touching me .. and all that stuff.."

"Who drove?"  She asked
"She did.  But she's been doing just about all the driving for a while now."
"Get you drunk?"
"A little."  I admitted.
"At the party.  Did she treat you like the girl in front of her friends?"
I blushed again, really red.
"What'd she do?"
I hung my head.
"C'mon.  Can't be much worse.  Tell me.  C'mon."
"Had me sit on her lap."
She grinned  "Why do I have the feeling that everyone got the impression that
you were enjoying it?  You were, weren't you?"

She was just looking at me now.  No scorn, or anything like I had anticipated. 
Curiosity more than anything else.
"Where did she make love to you?"  She broke into my thoughts.
I remembered Jill's hands, demanding hands, under my dress caressing my thighs,
my swirling head as I was forced onto my back, my dress being pushed up, and my
panties being pulled down.
"In the car."  I said
"Want more coffee?"  She asked, getting up.
"Thanks"  I said gratefully.  "I'm dry."
She poured the coffees, and helped herself to a cookie from the box on the
counter.  Brought my cup to the table, and settled back in her chair.

"O.K.  You seemed to have become Jill's 'Juliette' for a night - or did you
start being "girlish"  the next day as well?"
"Honest, Mother - no!  I was back to normal the next day.  I was kind of
embarrassed for sure, but the subject didn't come up for about a month after
that."
"What brought it on?"  She asked  "Another party?"
"No.  She just turned to me at the dinner table one night and said.."
"I want you to be my wife?"  Mother asked wryly.
"Just about."  I admitted.
"What did you say to that?"
"I just laughed.  It seemed so silly..."
"So what did she do then?"
"She left the room, and came back with one of her dresses.."
Mother said.  "One of her..?"
"Dresses.  Yes.  Said she was going to fight me, and after she had beaten me,
she was going to make me wear it.  I asked her what the hell was on her mind. 
She told me that she was fed up being the wife, and she felt it was my turn to
be the one that took care of the house, and made myself.. pretty...for her."

Mother laughed  "I felt that way with your father a couple of times.. But go on.
 What happened?  Surely she didn't beat you?"
"No.  She didn't beat me.  She started wrestling with me, and it was really
quite easy to beat her."
"Did she take it badly that you won?"  Mother asked.
"Actually, she just laughed, and said she'd be back."
"She kept coming back.  Didn't she?"
"Yes"  I said
"And she ended up beating you?"  She asked, amazed.
"No"  I answered  "She's never beaten me."

Mother shook her head.  "I don't understand"  she said  "What's the problem?"
"She started doing exercises, body building, that kind of thing."
"Well, you could do that too, couldn't you?"
I grimaced.  "Well, I did.  For a little while.  But it seems so ...silly."
"Fighting for your position as male in the house?"
Ruefully, I nodded my acceptance of what she was implying.

"So she's getting muscles.  But if she's never beat you, what's the problem?  I
keep saying that, don't I?"
"She just kept coming on."  I said helplessly.  "She was getting stronger and
stronger - and so confident!   Every week it was getting harder and harder to
beat her.  Then she offered me a compromise."
"Eh?  Bet it was a doozy"
"Well.  She said if I started to 'help' with the housework, she would stop
fighting me."
"That's all?  She wanted you to do your fair share of the housework?"
I gritted my teeth.  "All of the housework, and.."  I paused.
"And?"  Mother asked.
"Wear an apron while I was doing it."
"Which would be pretty well all the time you were at home, right?  What'd
you say to that?"
"O.K." I admitted, shamefaced.

"Well"  Mother laughed.  "Sounds to me, like you deserve to be bossed
around.  Imagine.  Getting bullied into wearing a girl's apron, and doing
the woman's work in the house.  Hand wash her undies do you?  Give them a
light touch with an iron.."
Her mouth literally fell open as she saw that she had described one of my
chores.  Then, with a speculative look in her eyes, she got up and walked
to the kitchen cupboard.  She returned with my yellow apron in her hand.
"Mm..Mm. Lots of pretty ones in there.  All yours, I assume?"
She put it down on the chair next to her.
"So when did you start wearing the pretty aprons, and being the housewife?"
"About two months ago."  I replied.
"You wait this long to tell me.  Why now?"
"Well.  Something else happened."

"Why did I have the feeling that there was more to come?"  She asked brightly.
"Because there is."  I said.
I lit another cigarette, not really caring now what she saw, but she
noticed nothing.
"Two weeks ago, she invited the president and secretary of her women's club
around for drinks after dinner.  She had bought a special apron, and a cap, for
me to wear when I was serving the drinks."
"Showing off her new maid, eh?"
I nodded.  "I told her I wasn't going to do it"
"Stamped your pretty little feet and everything.  Did you cry?"
"Oh, c'mon Mother"  I said.
"But you wore the apron and cap, didn't you?"
"No Mother"  I said despondently.  "Well  - at least not that one. And I didn't
wear the maid's cap either."

"You obviously are scared out of your mind by this woman.  How did you
'convince' her that you weren't going to do what she told you? "
"By doing something else"  I said.
Mother said nothing.
"She told me that if I forced her into fighting me that night, she'd definitely
put me in a dress and makeup, as well as the apron.  Not only that, she'd put me
over her knee and spank me in front of the other women, - and one of them works
at my office."
"It didn't dawn on you that you might have won?"  Mother asked.

I thought of the months of seeing Jill develop in strength and confidence, while
I became less and less secure in my masculinity.  I thought of how I had, more
and more, taken the submissive role in our lovemaking, while she had increased
the pressure on me by providing frillier and flouncier aprons for me to wear.  I
shook my head.  "Not really, Mummy"
"So what did you have to do?"
"Start wearing lingerie"
"That night?"
"Yes"
"Bra? Panties?"
"Yes. And a camisole .. And garter belt.. And nylons."

My mind flashed back to that night, the watershed of my masculine role in our
marriage.  The confident look in Jill's eyes as she produced the lingerie she
wanted me to wear in place of the apron. Light blue satin, beige lace trim.  The
full skirted dress that I'd have to put on if I argued more with her - under the
aforementioned apron, and over the lingerie in her hands.

I remembered my total capitulation at that time, undressing in front of her,
then standing there as she fastened the bra strap at my back, and standing
shivering helplessly once I was totally ensconced in my new clothes.  Her making
me stand there until I agreed that, from then on, I'd wear underwear of that
nature around the house all the time, and 'my' aprons when no-one was there.  I
had also no intention of telling Mother how she had then intimidated me into
voluntarily draping myself over her knee for a 'symbolic' acceptance of my new
role, of my feminine squeals as she spanked me lightly, and of my little leg
kicks that she 'requested' I make.

Worse was to follow.  Finally being allowed to put my pants and shirt back on
and the gradual return of some complacency because I'd at least delayed the
dreadful moment of my introduction to her friends in my new image.
How even that bubble was burst.
"Never realized how sheer your shirts were"  Jill said brightly.
"Eh?"  I said, preoccupied with making sure that all the drinks, mixes, etc were
available.
"Your shirt.  It's sheerer than I'd have thought.  Almost like a woman's blouse"
I still didn't understand, and looked at her in bewilderment.
"I can see your pretty undies.. Well at least the straps and lace trim.."

Horrified, I ran to the nearest mirror.  I tried to convince myself that they
weren't that obvious, but one little twist of my body changed the light a little
and my lingerie was immediately visible.  It was patently obvious that I was
wearing a bra and camisole.
"Please Jill.  Please don't make me do this.  Paula will make my life a misery"
"Oooh.. That's right, you gave her a bad performance review last time didn't
you.  Bet you won't, ever again.. Will you?
"But I can't let her see these straps"  I pleaded.

She picked up the dress and held it against me.  "Don't think this is so thin" 
she mused  "Probably wouldn't notice them if you were wearing this...?
"Please " I repeated helplessly.
She gave me a moments hope  "Well.. I'm not going to let you off with your
promise, but I have an idea.  Hold on a moment"  and left the room.  She came
back with a pink angora sweater in her hand.  "They'd never see your undies if
you wore this"

She shook her head at my horror stricken face.  "Nothing pleases you, eh? Well 
you'll have to take your chances.. Wait a minute .. Bet one of your aprons would
do it.."  And picked up the pink one I'd had the original problem with.

I really didn't have much choice.  She finally let me choose my own apron that I
would wear that night.  It was feminine, true, but nowhere near the pink one in
that regards.
 "So you didn't have to wear an apron that night?"  Mother interrupted my
reverie.

In fits and starts, I explained what had actually happened - at least most of
it.
She laughed.  "Looks like she had you coming and going, eh?  You wear the
lingerie to get out of wearing an apron - then wear an apron to hide the
lingerie.  Did the girls notice?"
"No... Well, yes.. I think so.  Paula, the one that works at my office,
she made some snide comments the next day."

"But Jill didn't want you to wear sexy underwear all the time, surely?"
"No.  She promised that I'd just have to wear it at home.. But she started
working on me to.."
"Do just that?"  She asked, then added incredulously  "You're not, surely,
wearing lingerie just now?"
I didn't answer her directly.  "She made me wear it to the office, my last
week there.. And Paula kept snapping my bra strap when nobody was looking."
"What do you mean - 'last week there?  You left your job?"
"I'm at home all the time now."  I said simply.

Mother shook her head.  "I just can't get over it. My son, the housewife
- and you're wearing lingerie just now!  Talking to me!"  She reached in her bag
and put on her glasses.
The first thing she saw was the cigarette end I had just stubbed in the ashtray.
 She picked it up.
"Some kind of coral lip rouge?"
"Estee Lauder Coral"  I admitted.
She lifted her gaze to my face.  "Nice makeup.  Doesn't want you plastering it
on, eh?"
"No"  I answered, head down now.
"Oh sit up!"  She said firmly.  She then leaned across the table and spread my
arms a little.
"Looks like a shirt - but it's a blouse - right?"
She looked at my waist.  "Well.. It's only to be expected I guess.  Would you
stand up for mummy dear -- and let me see the pretty skirt you're wearing?"

I stood up and came around the table, my tight skirt and high heels making me
mince very effeminately.  Mother grinned.
"Looks like she's done quite a number on you dear .. "

"I call her Margaret now."  Jill said, sweeping into the room.  "I really didn't
have the time to do all the little .. you know.. things.. you know.."
"That a Mother teaches her daughter?"  Mother offered
"Exactly!"   Jill beamed.  "Hit the nail right on the head.  That's why I
wanted to have you over here, and what I wanted to ask you right away, but
the silly girl here wanted to sort of break it to you - as if you'd care!
You don't mind.  Do you?"

"Of course not"  Mother said brightly.  "I've always wanted a daughter. C'mon
Margaret, let's get something done with that hair of yours."
Pointedly, Jill addressed me  "Think you can put that apron on now, Margaret  -
and maybe make up a little snack for me before your Mother gets started with
you?"
"Yes ma'am"  I said, slipping it on while she spoke - and dropping my prettiest
curtsey.