Partying hard

"You're right, darling… the dress is really way too short, see-through, and shows everything. Lesson learned—I promise I won't buy this kind of outfit for you again," said Tommy, trying to mask his embarrassment.

"Oh no, honey. The lesson is far from learned. You didn’t go out wearing this. You didn’t feel the lustful stares from men practically undressing you with their eyes. I told you: ‘next time you bring home some scandalous outfit to show me off in public, you’ll be the one wearing it’. And here we are," his wife replied with a triumphant smile.
"I… I didn’t think you meant that literally! Turning me into a version of you? That’s taking things way too far. I get it, okay? Please, let’s just stop this!" he pleaded, shifting uncomfortably in the tight dress.
"Stop? Oh no, the night is just getting started! You wanted so badly to go to this party, remember? Well, now you’re going. And you’re going to be a hit, sweetheart," she said with a wink, gently nudging him toward the door.

And she wasn’t wrong. Tommy was a hit. Drinks were paid for by complete strangers, compliments flew left and right, laughs came a little too easily, and every eye in the room seemed glued to him—or rather, the body he now had. By the third or fourth party, he was already thinking about buying even more daring dresses himself.

His wife, on the other hand, began to notice something odd: Tommy no longer complained about the clothes. Or the heels. Or the attention. In fact… he seemed to be enjoying it. Maybe even a little too much.