This choice: You take your wife's advice and soldier on. • Go Back...Chapter #7You take your wife's advice and soldier on. by: Wassel   Responding to your wife's caring and sympathetic words with, “You’re right. Of course you’re right.” Taking yet another deep breath and returning your gaze to the mirror, and to Shawna’s naked form. Allowing your eyes to drink it in for just a moment longer as you pushed past the emotions that seeing it created and grabbed for the nearby clothes. Picking up a pair of plain white panties that sat on top. Which you had assumed to be the regular kind but soon discovered were in fact a thong. A style that even though you knew was popular among younger people, you never imagined your own daughter would wear. Still thinking of her as being innocent and naive.
This clearly wasn't the case however. Shawna being much more grown up than you would have liked (her curvy figure being evidence enough of that). But still you pushed on. Not having any other option. Stepping into them and pulling them up your legs. Feeling the soft material mold to your new crotch in a manner that you really could have done without. While the thin strip at the back instantly disappeared between your ass cheeks. Having no idea how girls found this comfortable at all.
Not that you had any intention of dwelling on this particular area and so pressed on. Grabbing the bra next. An item of clothing that you did admittedly have a little more familiarity with. Having taken your fair share off, as well as seen Angela in hers. What you weren't prepared for however was the size of the thing. The cups being much, much bigger than any woman you'd ever been with before. Which, given the size of the two masses that were currently dangling from your chest, made sense. Though it was still a shock to realize that your baby girl was quite so busty. That YOU were now so busty. Having, like most men, always had a fondness for large breasts.
What you didn't have though was actual experience of putting a bra on. Finding that the process was a lot trickier than Angela made it look. Struggling with both keeping all that flesh from spilling out of the cups and actually getting the thing fastened. Which seemed virtually impossible. Leading you to inevitably have to ask your wife for assistance. Assuming that she might have a better idea as to how exactly Shawna got it on.
“I think she sometimes fastens it at the front and then spins it around,” came her response.
This actually making a lot of sense. Proceeding to do exactly that and finding it much easier to attach the hooks. Even though her breasts were somewhat obscuring your vision. Spinning the bra around then and pulling your arms through the straps. Cajoling both mounds into the cups, while being especially careful not to touch your new nipples. Which were not only much larger but much more sensitive too. Which obviously made things that much more awkward and encouraged you to grab the next item as quickly as you could. The light pink pop socks being fairly straight forward. As were the shorts. Though they were a lot tighter than any you would ever wear. As was the tank top you put on next. Only now realizing just how revealing this outfit was. Despite thinking nothing of it when Shawna had it on. Though you suppose you weren’t really scrutinizing it in quite the same way back then. Not were you anticipating the fact that you were actually going to have to wear it. Feeling incredibly exposed.
Better this than being naked I supposed, you reminded yourself. Sitting yourself down on the toilet and tying the laces of your (woman’s) size 6 sneakers. Which was a big step down from your previous size 10's.
Your wife asking, once you'd finally finished, "How we doing in there? You almost ready?"
"Yep. I think so," you told her. Sitting back up and feeling a lot less bounce and jiggle than before. Though saying that the bra did feel quite restricting. Not being at all used to wearing one. Nor having your butt crack flossed by a thong. Adding, as you grabbed at the long strands of wavy hair that were causing somewhat of a nuisance, "I just... I just have to figure out what to do with all this hair! It's kind of... difficult to manage."
"It's not. Not really. You're just not used to it is all."
Which was of course true. Having never had long hair before. The closest you'd ever gotten was a ridiculous looking mullet when you were in your twenties. A style that you'd definitely like to forget.
"And I'm sure we can find a hair tie or a scrunchie somewhere you can use," Angela continued. "Just... Well I don't mean to rush you, but time is getting on and Shawna is already dressed. So we're really only waiting on you."
"Oh. Oh, okay." This news and the fact that your daughter was already way ahead of you (though admittedly your own clothing was a lot easier for her to put on), putting some pep in your step. Not wanting to keep her and everyone else waiting any longer. Announcing to your wife then as you opened the bathroom door, "Then I guess here I am... Your brand new daughter!" Which was a similarly strange idea to be sure. Your wife now technically being your mom.
Angela, who had red hair similar to Shawna, as well as a slightly plumper build standing there before you now. Wearing an expression that was hard to define. Surprise, but also recognition. To see her husband all dressed up in her daughter's clothes.
This quickly changing into a reassuring smile. "Well... Don't you look the part."
Prompting you to respond, "It's kind of hard not to." Having the complete package after all.
"No. I guess not," she agreed. Taking a step forward and giving you a quick once over with her eyes. Asking, "How does it feel? A little strange I'll bet."
"You could say that. Seeing how I've never dressed like a teenage girl before. Nor realized just how little clothing they actually wear."
"Oh, please. That outfit is perfectly fine." Angela rolling her eyes at this. "Some girls wear a LOT worse."
Not that you were about to argue. Having definitely witnessed this first hand and being glad that, despite your discomfort, you weren't wearing what basically amounted to a belt and a bra. A popular look for some girls.
Though you did make sure to add, "Yeah, but you can't see the underwear I've got on. Damn thing is disappearing into my ass!" And it only seemed to get worse with each and every step.
Angela clearly not expecting you to share this particular detail, and couldn't help but laugh. Attempting to muffle herself with her hand as she apologized, "I'm sorry. Oh, God, I'm sorry, honey. That's not something I ever expected to hear my husband say."
Finding yourself, despite the seriousness of your situation, breaking into a little chuckle yourself. Finding your wives amusement infectious. Telling her as you did, "Well I'm glad you find it funny. Me not so much."
Though in truth, you kind of did. There definitely being something inherently ridiculous about it all. And this brief moment that you'd both taken to recognize this fact did make you feel a tiny bit better. Figuring that it was a lot better to laugh about it than to cry. Which your wife continued to do. Informing you that, "I had no idea that's what she had on. It was the doctors that brought her clothes in." Her face suddenly twisting into a knowing little smirk, "And besides, wasn't there a time when you were trying to convince me to wear one of those things?"
"That's a different and you know it," you grinned. Having taken place almost 15 years ago when you were both a lot younger. Not to mention a lot hornier too.
This... Recalling the friskier, more sexual side of your marriage... having the rather unfortunate effect of highlighting the fact that was all now gone. Not being able to have any of that any more. Not as a woman. And especially not as her daughter. Your laughter immediately dissipating as cold hard reality once again forced its way in. Leaving you both feeling a awkward and embarrassed. You even more so than you'd already been.
"Well... It's only until we get home and then you can put something more comfortable on,” your wife then assured you. Moving things on. “So, uhm... What say we go find the kids and get out of here? If you’re ready that is."
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” Feeling that there was no point in delaying the inevitable. As both Shawna and your son, Rhett were going to have to see you dressed like this at some point. Just as you were going to have to see her dressed as you.
Following your wife’s lead as she opened the door and headed into the hospital hallway. Which would only be your second time venturing out of this room. The first being when you'd gone to see Shawna after waking up. Where most of the legal issues and whole NDA thing had been explained. Back when the two of you had still been wearing gowns, and you’d been pushed into the room on a wheelchair. Still feeling the effects of the anesthesia. This then being your very first time walking anywhere on your own two feet. Or rather Shawna’s. The strange way in which you moved, due to your wide hips and your new weight distribution, still not feeling right. And yet it took great effort to walk as you normally would. As if this was what her body wanted. How it felt most comfortable. Bouncing boobs, butt and all. Which you found to be a huge distraction and almost impossible to ignore. Having no idea how busty girls did it.
Still, you made it to her room. Where Rhett was keeping her company inside. And judging from the way the two of them bickered at home, you imagined that they'd both be in serious need of rescuing. Even if it was from their now very different looking dad.
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