Marshal sat in his living room; he watched the last moments of the Bengals season opener, and the first loss of the regular season. He muttered under his breath; he cursed and loudly asked “how can they be so good in the pre-season, and fail so badly in the first real game.”
The game clock wound down to 0, and the final whistle blew. The Bengals lost in spectacular fashion, 32-24, giving up an interception with only 33 seconds to go, after making a 60 yard drive down the field.
“Why do people make bets on sports?” Marshal simply asked the question of himself, his voice echoing through the empty room. He knew that he would be getting a call, or a text to rub in his loss, and to rub in the humiliation that he was going to feel. His wife, Heather, made the bet simply because she thought it would be fun. A moment later he heard his phone.
Text from Heather:
Wow! Did you see that game? I love it when you lose on bets to me!!! I’ll be stopping at the store on my way home to pick up a bra for you put on…
Marshal looked down at his phone, he knew who it was; he knew what the text would say. Yesterday when he made the bet with Heather, this was a sure thing, everyone knew that the Bengals were going to get the W! It was a simple wager, Heather agreed to wear the little Maid’s outfit that she had bought the year before, as a Halloween costume, when all of his friends came over for the game next weekend. She had chickened out last year because she felt like it showed off too much. She said it made her feel uncomfortable. For her win, though, she told Marshal that he would have to wear a bra for the next Sunday, from the time he woke up, while his friends were there, and until the couple went to bed. He stared back at his phone, and finally mustered up the desire to respond.
Text to Heather:
Are you really sure you want me to be wearing a bra?
Marshal set his phone down, waited for the response; he hoped Heather would decide that maybe she didn’t want to see her husband in a bra. He thought about the shirts in his closet, thinking about the largest t-shirts he had, maybe that would be the way to go. Maybe he could even go buy a jersey this week, then no one would see any hint that he had woman’s clothing on under his shirt.
Text from Heather:
YES! Of course I want you wearing a bra all day! I want to see your manly body walking around the house in just the bra, and make no mistake about it, I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.
“Fuck!” Marshal set his phone down, turned the tv back on and started to watch the post game breakdown talking about where everything went wrong. While the TV people were talking about the game, he of course couldn’t help but to think of when he agreed to make the silly bet.
Sunday morning came around, and Marshal woke up. Heather was already out of bed, and the smell of coffee and bacon had crept into their bedroom. He breathed in that intoxicating smell, and eventually his eyes opened. When he looked over at his night stand, he saw that damn bra laying there on top of his phone. It was a cute bra, lots of flowers, small cup size, and it fit pretty well, it was meant for a big girl with itty, bitty titties, but right now, he was just happy that when he tried it on earlier in the week, it wasn’t obvious under his clothes. He sighed loudly, as he sat up.
“Did I hear you wake up?” Heather asked loudly from the kitchen.
“Yes,” Marshal answered groggily. “Barely. I see you left me this, this, torture device.” He heard Heather laugh from the other room. He started sliding the bra on, he also picked up the boxer briefs that she left under them, and put them on. “Did you take my shirt and jeans I had left next to the bed?”
“They are in the washer,” Heather answered, her pitch a little higher than normal. “This morning though, you are only going to wear what I left sitting on your night stand, now get your ass out here and help me finish up breakfast.”
“I guess I’m on my way.”
Marshal finished sliding his boxers on, and stood up, looking at himself in the mirror, and thought he looked pretty good. Right now, he was very thankful he did the sit-ups and pushups every night. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be in better shape, but he was fit, and the bra fit his chest pretty well. He looked down at his chest, and the full body mirror, thinking about how much better it would look if it was a little more full, and wished his pecs were a little bigger, they almost fill it.
Heather whistled when Marshal walked into the kitchen. She pulled a coffee cup out of the cabinet and set it down, starting to fill it. The bacon sizzled in the background. The smells made him smile, the sounds made him happy.
“This was the best bet I ever made,” Heather finally said. She pulled Marshal’s bra out and looked down it. Snorting as she let it go. “I’m going to enjoy today so much.”
“I’m glad you will. I’m looking forward to tonight, and showing you what a man I am.”
“Oh!” Heather exclaimed, Marshal took a drink of coffee. “I thought it would be fun to tell one of my friends that something would be different about you today, and if she can figure out what it is, then I’d let her have her way with you.”
“Wait….You told her what?” Marshal responded, more excited than shocked.
“Yes, I’m having fun with gambling lately. If she can figure out what is different about you, then she can have her way with you. I know she wants to, she has asked if she could borrow you for an evening more than once.”
“Which friend? I mean, so I know which one to watch out for.”
“I’m not telling you.” Heather smiled, and then pulled Marshal close to her, and gave him a long kiss. She tasted like coffee and bacon, but he was sure he probably did too.