Chapter 11: Coming Out of the Closet

(Shirley)

Jim and I soon drifted into a familiar routine. He had his poker nights every Wednesday evening, but spent the remainder of his free time exclusively with me. The time that we spent together was so wonderful that I never once regretted the indulgence of his poker nights.

Actually, that's a bit of a lie. Each time that Wednesday evening would approach, I'd think to myself, "Why does he need to do this every week? Why doesn't he try to include me in his games with his friends?" I realized that this was the old cynical Shirley raising her ugly head, trying to convince me that despite the fact that Jim was such a wonderful person, he was still a man, and a man is interested in only one thing.

Yes. That one thing Jim was interested in. That would be my body, if my old self was to be believed, and this was amazing in itself. I long ago wrote myself off as being fat and ugly and the kind of girl a guy would fuck only after he's drank a few too many and didn't care if he was sinking his dick into a cunt or the ass of his best friend.

To think that my body would be the object of Jim's desire seemed laughable to me until I started looking at myself in the mirror in the morning before Jim woke up.

Before I met Jim, I tended to avoid looking at the image that awaited me in those awful devices. I'd brush my teeth while sitting on the toilet so I would not be subject to the mirror above the bathroom sink. Mirrors became my Dorian Gray portrait, showing me a reality that I preferred to hide from myself.

Now, the person that looked back at me in the mirror was different. She wasn't a cow with a perpetual frown who hated her life and the entire male half of the human race. Instead, I saw a woman whose frown lines were fading into a nearly perpetual smile. I saw a woman whose breasts were maybe just a bit firmer than they used to be. I saw a woman who was regaining a figure that was more like an hourglass now rather than a pear or a watermelon.

Did Jim hypnotize me to feel different about myself? The old Shirley tried to convince me that he must have, that I was just as ugly and unlovable as the hag that owned this body three months ago, but there was no doubting the image in the mirror or the bathroom scale that told me that I lost another five pounds this week. Whether or not Jim made me think this way about myself, I found that I was now happy about myself. I still saw a few bulges that I didn't appreciate, but I saw them as challenges--things to work on during my exercise sessions with Wendy.

I closed my eyes, and thought very deeply. I tried to imagine Jim's voice as it sounds when he puts me into a trance. I found out over the time the two of us were together that I could distinguish what I called a "Shirley thought" as opposed to a "Jim thought" that he'd give me during hypnosis by imagining him telling me things. Could I hear his voice telling me that I should be happier with my self image?

Try as I might, I couldn't hear Jim's voice telling me to like the person I saw in the mirror. In fact, I was pretty sure that he was ignorant about this particular quirk about me. I could easily hear his voice telling me that I was pretty, but this was with his normal voice, the voice that constantly reminded me when I was awake that he loved me. He seemed to find a prettiness in me when I was ugly, and as the pounds started to shed, his demeanor didn't really change. He still continued to tell me that I was pretty, but when he looked at me, he wasn't looking at my body; he was looking in my eyes. When he told me he loved me, he wasn't telling it to his Pygmalion that he sculpted to his own desires. He was telling it to whatever it was inside my head, the essence of my mind or soul that was me.

I opened my eyes and stared at the mirror, subjecting my reflection to rigorous scrutiny. Try as I might, I couldn't stare at my eyes the way Jim did. I couldn't look deep within my own eyes and see what it was that he saw when he looked at me.

Giving up on that tactic, I decided to check myself out physically. One thing was certain: my breasts weren't sagging as much anymore. I cupped them, feeling their weigh, and watched as I moved my hands down. They found their own height and only sagged down a bit. I knew that the sag was still there, but I had to admit that my breasts were noticeably firmer. This wasn't entirely Jim's doing, actually. Wendy did some surfing on the Internet, and found some firming exercises that she insisted that I perform during our sessions. I built up the muscles and could now see that our efforts were starting to pay off. They probably weren't ready for the centerfold of Playboy, but they were no longer the embarrassment that they used to be just a few months ago.

My nipples were now erect, happy for the attention that I was giving them this morning. I bent my head down as far as I could go and pulled my right breast as far up as it would reach, but found that I was still an inch or so away. I envied Wendy--she was able to lick her own nipples, and demonstrated this to me when Jim wasn't around. Since then, I've tried, but I think Wendy's ability came from the fact that her breasts were C-cups, rather than my B-cups, and she was able to move them further than I could move mine.

Despite the fact that I couldn't lick my nipple, I tried it again with my left breast. I failed, but started to rub it a bit to get it to be more erect. I could actually feel my warm breath on the tip, but I still wasn't able to lick it.

I closed my eyes again, and reveled in the sensations of my palms manipulating my breasts. I let my thumbs and fingers fondle my nipples, and imagined that Jim was with me, kissing and stroking me as he does so often. I started to imagine that Wendy was stroking me, a fantasy that I've been having recently after a few sensuous moments during our exercise sessions.

Just as I started to work my hands down toward my pussy, I remembered where I was and what time it was. My lolly-gagging in the bathroom this morning was cutting into the time that Jim and I spent together in the mornings, where I would suck him off and he would kiss me all over. Invariably, the two of us would achieve orgasm; myself, sometimes two or three times.

There were only fifteen minutes left before we had to leave this morning!

Quickly, I composed myself, and blew myself a kiss in the mirror. I left the bathroom and found Jim still asleep above the covers revealing his morning hard-on. I smiled at the sight, and quickly moved over to him, taking his hardness into my mouth.

(Jim)

In just under three months, it was apparent that Shirley's workouts and diet were bearing fruit. I always thought of Shirley as a pretty girl, but she was starting to fill out in wonderful ways. I loved her more than ever, and it wasn't at all due to the fact that she was now somebody that turned heads.

Shirley seemed to have a little difficulty with her new appearance. I think there was that bad self-image problem that she had when I first started talking with her. I saw her staring in the mirror for a long while this morning, something I saw her do quite a bit in the mornings when she thought I was asleep. I saw her frown, but it turned into an intense stare.

I wondered what was going through her mind as she did this self-assessment every morning. So far, I resisted the temptation to have her reveal her innermost thoughts to me, despite the fact that I thought it would help her in the long run. Without her express permission, however, I refused to give in. Shirley was a nice person--a truly beautiful person inside and out--and she deserved the privacy of her own mind.

Since that "Eureka!" moment when I discovered that I loved Shirley, I made myself a solemn promise never to betray the trust she has given me. From what I know now, it must have been extremely difficult for her to give up her control to me; it seemed unlikely that she would have ever given that amount of power to a person of my gender. I think it was her initial skepticism that allowed her to even try; if she thought that hypnosis actually worked, she probably would have never gone under.

Something else that I discovered about Shirley was that she was extremely playful.

A couple of weeks ago, I had a late meeting at the office and Shirley drove herself home from work. I arrived home an hour later, and saw her car in the driveway. As I entered the house, I called out her name, but received no response. I looked all around the house, and couldn't find any trace of her. It wasn't until I picked up the phone and was considering to call 911 that Shirley popped out of a closet, totally nude, and yelled "SURPRISE!" She was a little kid that was playing hide-and-seek! I laughed with her, and told her that she was lucky I didn't bring one of my poker buddies home with me that evening!

After that little adventure, Shirley would hide whenever I stayed late at work, and I would try to find her. It was a fun game, and as a reward for finding her, the two of us would have a round of heated sex in her hideout.

Yesterday, a Wednesday, I once again had a cross-functional meeting scheduled late in the day, and as usual, it ran late. I hurried home, knowing that Poker Night was to start soon. When I got home, I saw Shirley's car was still in the driveway. I smiled, happy to know that I'd see Shirley before she left for her now-weekly "Girl's Night Out" with Wendy, and wondered if Shirley was once again playing her little game of hide and seek.

"Shirley?" I called out as I entered the house.

There was no answer, which didn't tell me if Shirley was hiding or if she already left.

A note was in the kitchen, telling me that Shirley prepared our snacks and that she loved me with her entire heart. I opened the refrigerator and saw that there were a couple of platters of food, including the ever-present carrots and celery sticks. Nothing in the note told me that she already left, though.

Even though it was late and my friends were due any minute, I checked a few places for Shirley. Of course, during my search, the door bell rang, and Steve arrived with his now-usual twelve pack of Budweiser to make up for the "only light beer" policy that Shirley instituted to help me lose weight.

"Oh, Hi," I said, a bit worried that I didn't find Shirley. I wondered if she was hiding someplace, completely nude. What would the guys do if they discovered her?

As I was lost in thought, Steve put his beer onto the floor and headed for the main closet. A moment of horror passed through my mind as he retrieved the poker table and some folding chairs.

"Hey, what's up, man? You look as if you saw a ghost!"

I shook my head, thankful that Shirley wasn't in the closet. "Oh, nothing," I answered. "I was just thinking of something."

Steve looked at me seriously. "Jim, I know that I make jokes with the guys about you. I just wanted to tell you that I am really happy for you. I guess I was a bit worried that your girlfriend would change you, and I guess I was a bit jealous." He looked at me awkwardly, and then quickly added, "That doesn't mean that I'm gay!"

"Steve..."

"Let me finish," Steve said. "As I said, I was jealous... jealous that Shirley might turn you into some sort of effeminate house-husband--you know, like some of the other guys. That hasn't happened--at least, not yet. You sometimes look lost in thought, and we all know you are thinking of her, but you're still the same guy. It's quite obvious that you're happy. I've never seen you this way before and I'm happy for you. I just wish that I could find a chick like Shirley..."

"Shirley is NOT a 'chick, '" I said, almost automatically.

"Sorry, Jim," Steve said, looking a bit sheepish. "I was just trying to say..."

Once again, I interrupted my friend. "I understand what you mean, Steve. Shirley is really special." This was getting uncomfortable for me. "Here, let's set up the table."

The rest of the guys came over, and the awkward moment passed.

During the game, my thoughts naturally drifted back to Shirley every so often. I decided that she and Wendy left early, which is why Shirley wrote in her note that she loved me. Normally, she wouldn't write it down, but would tell it to me with a kiss, a quick grab of my balls, and a silent invitation to a night of wanton sex.

"Damn it!" Mike burst out, obviously pretending to be upset. "You can't tell when Jim's smiling if he has a great hand or if he's just thinking of that damned girlfriend of his!"

"Oh, I'm thinking about Shirley," I admitted. "I'm sorry, guys."

"No problem," Terry said. "We're actually happy for you." He looked at his cards and raised the stakes by five chips.

Steve nodded, looking at me thoughtfully. He didn't add anything to this conversation.

At eleven thirty, when the game was breaking up, I found my thoughts once again thinking about the girls. A few times, Shirley told me that they either went shopping or relaxed at bars. They never paid for drinks, and the girls, wishing to stick with their diet, didn't really drink much. Shirley hinted that Wendy sometimes accepted a "date" from one of the guys they met, but the two girls usually came back together.

They weren't due home for another half hour. I looked at the mess. Terry and even Steve offered to help me clean, but I was looking forward to having some quiet time to myself before the girls came back and told them that I'd clean it up myself.

After the guys left, I started moving the remaining food into the kitchen, and put the bottles and cans into the recycle bin. I turned the table on its side, dumping crumbs onto the floor. Shirley hated when I did this, but it always gave me an excuse to vacuum the floor.

I folded up the table and brought it to the living room closet.

What I found surprised me.

There was a naked Shirley laying on top of a bunch of coats on the floor of the closet. On top of her was a note that read, "THE FIRST PERSON THAT FINDS ME GETS TO FUCK ME!"

Shirley was asleep--naked!--on the closet floor, and was there during the entire game, waiting for somebody to discover her.

Suddenly, my mind shot back to earlier when Steve retrieved the card table and chairs. Had he seen Shirley and simply ignored her? Try as I might, I couldn't imagine Steve behaving that way.

"Shirl?" I said, gently. "Shirley, are you awake?"

There wasn't an answer, so I nudged her gently. "Shirley?"

Shirley woke up with a frown on her face. She looked confused at first, but then smiled. "You found me! You get to fuck me! Are your friends going to watch?"

"They've already left," I answered. Did Shirley really want me to fuck her in front of my friends?

"What time is it?" Shirley asked, looking concerned. "If they've left it is... what? Midnight?"

I looked at my watch. "Almost," I admitted.

"Oh," Shirley answered. There was a brief frown, but she recovered. "Well, we can fuck in the bedroom. I think I have a crick in my back."

"You were here the whole night?" I asked, incredulously.

"Well, at first, I was hiding under the coats here on the bottom. Then, after hearing your friends come in, I realized that I would have a difficult time getting out without causing a scene. It was getting warm here, so I needed to get the coats off me. It took me a few minutes to rearrange things without making any noise to give my predicament away. I found some paper and you have a box of markers on the top shelf that I found by touch. I decided to turn it into a game. Whoever discovered me would get to fuck me."

"You were serious?" I asked, not believing my ears.

Shirley didn't answer immediately, looking at me intently to try to gauge my feelings. Finally, she said, "Look at it this way, Jim. If I were to come out, I'd have to explain what I was doing in there. I figured that your friends weren't going to open the door, at least, not during the game. It's your house, right? I've always had a fantasy of doing it in public..."

Shirley stopped for a bit and then after a bit, she continued. "Anyway, even if one of the guys opened the door, the odds were good that the person was already married, or it would be Steve."