Ian had always been a Thanksgiving kind of guy. He loved the turkey, the pie, the mashed potatoes, and everything that made the holiday great. But this year, things were different. This year, he wasn't watching football or stuffing his face. This year, he was the one tasked with cooking Thanksgiving dinner--in heels and a dress! 
“Now remember,” his wife Julia said, “with turkey, you always have to cook it breast-side up."
"I know," Ian said through gritted teeth. "I read the recipe."
"Speaking of breasts, you'll need a bra soon."
Ian merely sighed in response. If he hadn’t been such a philandering horndog, he’d be guzzling beer and watching football with the boys. But no, Ian had to go and have an affair at work. Well, three affairs, to be precise. First there'd been Katie, then Lisa, and finally, Rita. Each of them had been a mistake, but the biggest mistake was when they found out about each other.
“You rat bastard,” Rita had said. “If you don't agree to do what we say, we're going to tell HR AND your wife about what you did.”
Having already been on thin ice with his company, Ian was forced to accept the blackmail. At first, it seemed like they only wanted to embarrass him. The woman demanded that Ian wear lingerie under his business suit, which of course he'd need to show them each morning. Of course, he didn't have women's lingerie just lying around, so he had to borrow some from Julia. They hadn't been having much sex lately, so he didn't think she'd notice.
Then, a few weeks into the blackmail, Rita gave Ian an unlabeled bottle of pills. “Take one every morning. It may make you nauseous, but you’ll have to deal with it.” Of course Ian asked what the pills were, but she wouldn’t say. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out."
As the months went by, Ian did indeed figure it out. He became more emotional and tearful at little things like movies and touching commercials. Meanwhile, his skin softened, and his nipples started to itch like crazy and even hurt a little.
“I think I’m growing breasts,” he said to Rita. “What the hell did you do to me?”
“Maybe you should ask your wife. It’s her pills.”
“My wife?”
Rita laughed. “Don’t act so surprised, Ian. You think she wouldn’t notice her own husband borrowing her underwear? Of course, she knew better than to ask you about it. She went to Katie first since she was your assistant, and, well, Katie told her everything. She was more furious than all of us put together, naturally. She said—and I quote—‘Ian doesn’t deserve to call himself a man, let alone a husband!’”
Stunned by this revelation, Ian left work early to confront his wife. The argument didn’t at all go as he’d planned. He ended up sobbing, begging Julia to forgive him, and she told him to pack his things—unless he agreed to continue taking the estrogen.
“I like this softer version of you,” she said, “and I won’t need to worry about you cheating on me if your dick doesn’t work.”
So there Ian was, standing over a hot oven in heels and cooking a Thanksgiving meal. The worst part was Julia had invited over their neighbor, a burly  man who’d recently moved in next door. “Steve’s nice,” she’d said. “I told him about our...situation, and he’s cool with it. More than cool, actually...”
Ian glanced over and saw Julia and Steve whispering while stealing glances at him. He bit his lip nervously. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up being stuffed instead of the turkey.