Spindizzy's tales of transformation

  Ashley Lane Almost from the moment the nanites had finished reshaping John's sturdy male body, I felt the change in him. Not just the outward transformation.  Watching my husband of fifteen years turn into a slim beautiful brunette was certainly shocking, but I held onto the hope it could be reversed, choosing to ignore or explain away the other changes that followed. Wearing our daughters' clothes?  He was just being practical; he had to wear something, and clearly nothing  he owned was going to fit now. Fingering himself when he thought I wasn't looking until the smell of his pussy permeated the whole house?  Obviously, I didn't approve, but a certain amount of curiosity was understandable. Insisting I call him Ashley even when we were alone?  I had to agree it would be embarrassing to slip and call him John in public, best to maintain his fictional identity as our niece visiting from out of town, even in private. And so on. The make-up, the jewellery, ...