A Perfect Fit by Miss Irene Clearmont

Book Details

A Perfect Fit – When Donald uses his free time on every Tuesday to indulge his fantasies, he always makes sure that Belinda, his wife, is not in the house. It would not do to be caught and his little secret exposed… This Tuesday is different, this Tuesday is the one that he will never forget! This Tuesday is the one when Belinda pops back from the office only to find her husband all dressed up in her clothes.

Donald is surprised when Belinda does not create a huge fuss, in fact she almost seems taken by his little fetish and suggests that he still be dressed for her when she gets home after work. Amazed at her open-mindedness, Donald looks forward to Belinda actually taking part in his fantasies… So, it is with relief that the husband complies, waits by the door expectantly as she arrives from work, opens it and is horrified that Belinda has brought her overbearing mother along to humiliate him!

This is the tale of a man who thinks that his harmless little obsession is just that, harmless; but he soon discovers that his strict mother in law is pushing Belinda to shame the man that she never thought was good enough for her daughter. This is the tale of a man caught between his obsession, his wife and her mother. The tale of a man who discovers that merely wearing her clothes is not enough for his wife, for she has plenty of ideas as to how it could go from such a low-key start. That’s the problem, Belinda is buying into his wet dreams…

As Belinda, urged on by her mother, starts to realise the possibilities and pleasures to be had by having a husband that is obedient, meek and servile, she develops the whole idea of having her husband as a servant and starts to seek a little pleasure outside of her marriage. The control becomes ever more inescapable, the oppression ever greater as the husband discovers that everything that he had fantasised about is in fact the shackles of a female dominated marriage…

What Klara has planned is both frightening and so wickedly malicious. All she has to do is persuade her daughter that caged and made into a plaything to be used, Donald will be a perfect fit! Especially for her own personal pleasure!

F/m, FF/m, FM/m, BDSM, Full feminisation, Plaything, Mature Mother in law, Dressing, Bisex

Strength 7/10 – 40,000 Words

Written 2016 Re-edit 2022

Excerpt: A Perfect Fit

All Change

I can’t remember when I first did it.

Dressed up as a slut, that is!

It’s not that I felt myself as feminine, or even deviant, it’s more that I just loved that thrill. The adventure of the tightness of the skirt, the smooth clasp of stockings and a girdle and the shoes that pinched and made me walk with a sway in my hips.

I never indulged in porn that matched that aberrant pastime. I fucked as a man, worked as a man, and never felt an urge to try anything unexpected with any partner, least of all my wife, Belli.

I hid it all in the shadows, in moments when I was safe; indulged myself and came to look forward to those special moments alone with my fetish.

I guess now that there was one person who knew, or at least sensed it in me. Klara, my mother-in- law! The woman who hated me for taking her daughter away. Overtly, for the fact that Belli deserved so much better from a husband; privately because she knew that I was more feminine than ever showed on the outside.

Was the only reason that I married Belinda because she was the same size as me? Perhaps. Was it because she was strong and self-willed? Maybe. Was it because she always fucked me and never the other way round?

Certainly!

I had it inside, it just needed to be pushed into the open.

Feminine and submissive…

I suppose so.

Fitting

I watched her go.

Stood by the window of our bedroom and watched the car pull from the drive and then hesitate, just a moment, before entering the traffic and disappearing. I dropped the curtain and breathed that little sigh that had become the moment where I just knew that I had to…

The urge could not be dismissed, it had to be satisfied.

That day was no different from everyone before, there was no reason to ever think that it was. It was a Tuesday like every seventh day is. It was overcast as it usually is, and my wife was off to work in the morning as she always does. I walked across the room and stood before the walk-in wardrobe.

As always there was a thundering in my ears, an excitement that causes shortness of breath, a shivering anticipation, and a pit in the stomach.

That is just the expectation sweeping through me! So many possibilities, who to be today?

I opened the wardrobe wide, creating a play-land that welcomes me like no other. This is not a step into a darkened forest with close trees and a lamp post shining wanly through the snowy gloom. This is a grown-up Narnia, a fantasy that never gets past the wardrobe. A place where I can be myself.

The hangers brushed by fingertips.

On the left, ignored and untouched, my pinstripe and denim. Hoodie and dress shirt. On the right, focus of the pathway to my need, silk, crochet, knits, and leather. Skirts and dresses. Sequins and lamé, stiff linen and frills. Business suits and heels, accessories, and handbags, all ordered by colour, by style and of course by casual and formal.

My wife is a remarkable woman, a woman who is both full of quirks and fantasy and yet at the same time she has a natural strength and sense of order that keeps the bounds of her desires normally in reach and palpable. Her wardrobe reflects this, with suits and smart jackets hanging side by side with outfits that are almost manga and soaked in lace and dripping with Gros-point and white-work.

Belinda is remarkable in so many other ways as well.

A woman who left an expensive girl’s boarding school with not a single qualification to her name. A woman who had leaned on mummy and daddy’s gifts and spoiling’s while she wandered here and there around Europe doing nothing but adding to her tan and sating her taste in bewildered Germans, chastened Italians, and shocked Frenchmen. When she returned, Belli knew what she wanted and made sure that daddy gave it to her.

A year in University to complete the Italian degree, two more for the German and then came the master’s and all the gowns and robes that go with it. A secondment to the Sorbonne, a tour of Heidelberg. A year in Milan and another in Sheffield, of all places.

Belinda always got what she wanted and for some reason I was on that wish-list. I was swept off my feet by the woman who seemed to have everything and wanted me, a man who had little in the way of prospects and even less in the charm department.

The only fly in the ointment, Klara, the Mamma that never thought that I was good enough for her precious daughter, but who kept her comments snide and whispered, nagging her daughter to make another choice.

But I love Belli and I was sure that she loved me and that’s enough for me.

I worked, I insisted on it, though to be honest it was nothing but a little extra tax to pay on her yearly bill; my thirty thousand was like spitting in the wind and barely paid the accountant who attended to our finances. But, I enjoyed my work, running a small shoe shop in sleepy Weybridge, while she lorded over the Shard offices of a company that organized shipping insurance for those Chinese Internet companies that sell everything from jewellery to phones, lightbulbs and ebony window frames.

So, there I was, on the cusp of a future that beckoned with a crooked manicured finger, even though I thought that it was just another day-off Tuesday. I explored by touch; it was always the way. Touching silk here and taffeta there as I decided my poison.

As you will have guessed by now, it was the delicate clothes, the draped silk and its feminine touch that drove me. A need to take on a private persona, become something that twisted me sideways to step into her clothes.

Excerpt from A Perfect Fit