In my free time, I used to dress up as a woman, log into online chatrooms, and flirt with men. It was just a harmless escape-a little weekend secret kept safely within four walls. I never dared to step outside or reveal myself in public. But one night, during one of my chatroom sessions, something unexpected happened. A woman approached me with a proposition: she wanted to hire me to investigate her husband and his alleged infidelities. Her husband was a well-known millionaire with a reputation for being unfaithful, though no one had ever caught him with another woman. She was convinced, however, that his real interest lay elsewhere with crossdressers and sissies. The money she offered was far too tempting to refuse, and the job was in a different part of town, far from my usual haunts. So, I agreed. Her hope? That he’d cheat on her, allowing her to catch him in the act and walk away with millions in a divorce settlement. Well, cheat he did but not in the way either of us could have imagined. He became obsessed with me. What started as a job quickly spiraled into something much more. He spoiled me relentlessly, showering me with gifts, affection, and luxury. Before I knew it, I was addicted to the life he offered. Now, I live in his mansion, his cherished trophy, his one and only. Sometimes, I think about his ex-wife and wish I could thank her personally-for setting me up with the man who made me feel more alive than I ever thought possible.
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