Crowning Glory, Part Two

Sophisticated Lady

"You've got mail." Alex immediately opened his e-mail reader when that message came from his computer and was a little shocked to find a note from Mistress Jessica:

The next quarterly sales meeting is in two weeks. Amber and I will be there. We expect Alice to join us. Download the attached file for your instructions.

Alex's curiosity got the better of him. He downloaded the file as requested and discovered it was a sound file. He activated it and heard Mistress Jessica's voice:

"Crowning glory."

That was the last thing he heard consciously, although the file continued for some time. Alex became aware several hours later, still sitting before the computer...but he discovered his right hand firmly around his erect cock and his left hand tweaking his sensitive nipples.

The two weeks until he left for the meeting were a strange time for Alex. He had periodic "black-outs" after which he would find himself at home with packages from various department stores and boutiques stacked up in his apartment. Oddly, he found himself completely unable to open any of them. More oddly, three days before the meeting, he felt compelled to have the entire collection shipped to his hotel room.

Alex arrived at the sales meeting quite confused. He had slept fitfully on the plane, his sleep filled with odd dreams of himself in full female regalia, strutting shamelessly beside Jessica and enjoying the sexual pleasures of both women, enthralled to Jessica and commanding Amber just as her lesbian dominatrix did. What the hell is going on? he thought. Well, I know one thing for sure--I'm going to avoid those two while I'm here!

He checked into the hotel and was informed by the desk clerk that all the packages he had sent had arrived safely and had been placed in his room. No matter, Alex decided. I'll just leave them here. The hotel can donate them or something when I don't take them with me. He let the bellhop take his bags up and went to the bar for a drink.

His back was to the door, when he felt someone approach him from behind. There was a tap on his shoulder and he turned to face the stunning Jessica, clad in a black leather business suit. He glared.

"You don't look pleased to see me, dearest," Jessica pouted. "Well, that will change." She looked him straight in the eye. "Crowning glory."

Alex dropped into a trance state. "Have you followed my instructions?" Jessica asked.

"Yes, mistress," he replied. "All the packages are safely in my room."

"Excellent. I'll call Amber and have her meet us there," Jessica said. "Now, come along--and let me see you practice that little hip swing I taught you last time."

Jessica let Alex lead the way, laughing inwardly as she watched his hips sway in a feminine manner, his hands carried away from his side, limp-wristed, as a caricature of femininity.

With all three in the room, Amber began unpacking the boxes, laying out a spectacular collection of dresses, gowns and lingerie acquired by Alex in his entranced shopping trips. One box she took special care with, a wig box. She handed it to Jessica, who stood beside Alex, now mesmerized before the dressing table mirror.

Jessica started to transform Alex into a feminine beauty once more. She artfully made up his eyes, cheeks and lips, and attached a pair of large, chandelier-like earrings to his lobes. Then she carefully opened the wig box and placed its contents on his head.

"Look at yourself, Alex," she commanded. "See the gorgeous red curls that surround your sultry features. Look at the way those earrings glint in the light. Sophisticated lady!

"Who are you?"

Alex gasped as the instructions from the computer message of two weeks past flooded back into his mind. "I am Alice, the sophisticated young dominatrix you are training. I am a male lesbian, completely submissive to you, my Mistress Jessica, but dominant over all others, especially Amber, our shared slave."

Amber looked over and smiled sweetly at this mention of her name and her status.

"Very good," Jessica complimented her refound toy.

SNAP!

Alice awoke from the trance. "Amber, help me into my gown!" she ordered. "We have a party to attend!"

Moments later, Alice was a vision of high fashion in a black gown with a long, straight skirt, black wrist-length gloves and black satin pumps with five-inch heels. As Amber had dressed the transformed male, Jessica had also changed: She wore a red spandex gown with an oval keyhole over her cleavage, marking her as sexual creature of high allure.

"Hurry, Amber!" Jessica demanded. "We have only a half-hour left!" Quickly the voluptuous little sub got into her own party outfit--a virginal gown featuring tiers of white lace, belying her reality as an experienced sexual slave--and the trio left for the formal occasion.

The affair was held in a private club on the far side of town. On the outside, it appeared to be one of a set of expensive townhouses in the most high-toned part of town. Even the brass plaque with the club's name spoke of old money and power...but the name said it all: "Club Lesbos".

A giggly young thing in a traditional French maid's uniform answered the door and took the group's coats. She escorted Jessica, Amber and Alice to the main ballroom, which was filled with women in elegant evening garb. Alice gasped. They're all women, dancing with each other, kissing, hugging...and several seem to be doing even more. Her attention was caught by a young woman in leather. Is she bound?

Jessica smiled at Alice's confusion. "Yes, darling, there are no men here...at least none in the usual sense. Several of the submissives you see are male lesbians like yourself--men transformed into beautiful feminine playthings for their mistresses. And, yes, open displays of feminine affection and even dominant and submissive activity are quite normal at these affairs."

With her switchable personality in control, Alice soon fell into the swing of things at Club Lesbos--submitting to Jessica and to any other woman her mistress approved, dominating Amber and the slaves of the other true dominants.

As the evening drew to a close, Jessica turned to Alice and said, "It's time for your reward, my darling." She spread her legs and directed Alice beneath the spandex of her skirt, where the boy-girl discovered a naked, tempting pussy. She knew her part, burying her face into the mistress's sex. At the same time, Jessica directed Amber between Alice's legs, and the sub again placed her own lips around Alice's sissy-cock.

The remaining club members gasped in awe and shock. "She's a male lesbian!" came several cries! None of them had realized Alice's secret until now. Jessica smiled, knowing her techniques in creating slaves, both male and female, had passed a crucial test.

She felt her own orgasm near its peak and knew that Alice must be close as well. "Alice," she gasped, "you will come upon hearing the code phrase…and you will also become Alex once again. Alex will have the most explosive orgasm of his life as he feels the combined delight and humiliation of his exposure!"

Jessica's body stiffened with her coming and she cried, "Sophisticated lady!"

Alice dropped back from her service of Jessica's sex as she felt her sissy-cock surge and fill Amber's mouth. Oh my god! Alex thought. Look what she's got me doing-- and he smiled through his smeared lipstick--and how much I'm loving it!

More to come

New Links

I was doing some random searching on Technorati last night and came upon a couple of interesting sites, now linked at the left:

Tranny In Trouble and the Institute for Cross-dressing Punishment.

Crowning Glory, Part One

As commissioned by Alice

Prologue: The Package

Alex unlocked the hotel room door, loosened his tie and prepared to collapse on the bed. Instead, he nearly tripped over a box placed just inside the door. A note was attached. "Mr. Barrow--This package was sent to the hotel with your room number as the only internal address. I had housekeeping deliver it when they made up the room this morning." It was signed by the concierge.

I wasn't expecting a package, Alex thought as he carried it to the bed. What could it be? He carefully opened the wrapping and found what seemed to be some sort of hat box. He lifted the lid and found a long blonde woman's wig with soft waves that fell to a shoulder length. "What the hell--" he muttered, as he lifted the wig on its stand out of the box, and discovered, beneath it, a video tape and a note:

Wear the wig; watch the video

He set the whole package aside and pondered. Some kind of a gag by a colleague? It was possible. He was in town for a sales convention and his co-workers and competitors--all friends to some extent--loved to play tricks on one another. Oh, hell, he decided, I'll go get some dinner, then come back and play along with the joke. I'll probably start to watch the video and find some kind of gag tape or something.

An hour later, having eaten, Alex stood before the mirror in his room, carefully placing the extremely feminine wig on his head. He placed the video in the VCR, then settled on the bed, with the pillows propped up behind him, hit the play button and settled in to enjoy the gag.

The tape seemed to be some sort of women's cosmetic, hair and grooming course, and he was sure it would be interrupted by a home-made section from a fellow salesman...but before any of that could happen, he felt himself drifting off to sleep. He hadn't really felt that sleepy when he started, but something seemed to make him want to close his eyes and relax. Within 10 minutes of the beginning of the tape, Alex was--to outside eyes--completely unaware of his surroundings.

Unaware, that is, until a knock on the room door brought him out of it. The sunlight streaming through the drapes told him it was morning already. My god, he thought, I slept straight through? That's probably one of the jokesters now.

He went to the door and opened it, to be confronted by a strikingly beautiful brunette in a black silk dress, dark hose and six-inch heels. "Hello," she said, smiling and even giggling a bit, "I'm Jessica. I think I accidentally sent a package to this room by mistake. It should have gone to the room directly above."

"Oh...oh!" Alex said, surprised. "I'm afraid I opened it. I thought it was some kind of gag from a colleague and I followed the instructions in the note."

"So I see," Jessica answered, her eyes straying to the top of Alex's head. Suddenly, he was aware that he was still wearing the wig. "Did you watch the video, too?"

"Yes," he said, "although I don't seem to remember much of it."

"I bet you remember the parts that count," Jessica replied. She looked him straight in the eye and said, "Crowning glory!"

Chapter One: Sweet Young Thing

SNAP!

Alex's eyelids fluttered and he awoke. He was sitting at the desk in his hotel room--No, not my room, he realized. In mine, the door is to the left of the bed.

"Welcome back, Alice dear." The voice came from the door to the adjoining room. Alex turned and saw the mysterious Jessica standing there.

"How did I get here?" Alex asked. "I assume this is your room?"

"No, this room belongs to my lover, Amber," Jessica answered. "I'm in the room next door, Alice."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" he demanded. "My name is Alex."

"Is it?" Jessica asked, grinning. "You don't look much like an 'Alex'."

"What are you talking about?"

Jessica moved closer to him. "Oh, that's right, I haven't let you be aware of the changes we've made, have I?" Again, she looked him in the eye. "Sweet young thing."

Instantly, Alex was aware of the way he was dressed-in a light-colored checked dress with a full petticoat and puffy white sleeves. He had on nylon stockings, held up by a waist-restricting garter belt; in fact, he was wearing a full set of lingerie, including a bra that gave him a 36C bustline. He was perched on white calf pumps with four-inch heels and even his hands were encased in white kid gloves. He looked in the mirror--he still wore the ultra-feminine blonde wig and now his face had been artfully feminized with a full complement of cosmetics: eyeshadow, mascara, blush, lipstick. He, indeed, looked like a "sweet young thing."

That sight of himself was the final trigger. Alex felt his normal self fade away, to be replaced by another person--Alice. Alice, lesbian slave and lover to Jessica; Alice, who would be anything Jessica wanted her to be; Alice, who would change personas as she changed hairstyles and clothes.

Jessica smiled as she watched the change come over her new plaything. "That package you found was intended for Amber. She's been my lesbian love slave for several years and we've used many variations of such hypnotic control devices in that time. When I realized it had been misdelivered, I thought it would be just a slight delay in our plans...but you're finding it gives this week an entirely new meaning.

"You see, Amber and I are traveling salespeople just like you,"she continued. "We meet three or four times a year at sales meetings like this one and have our kinky little get-togethers on the company dime. Now, you can join us."

There was a knock at the door. "Answer it, Alice darling. It's probably Amber."

Alice walked to the door, teetering slightly on the unfamiliar heels, and opened it. In the corridor was a petite blonde with a spectacular figure, undisguised by the skintight spandex dress she wore. "Wow! Is this Alice? She dresses up nice, Mistress!"

"Come in, Amber," Jessica ordered. "Yes, she is lovely, isn't she? I don't regret not seeing you as this virginal delight now at all." She glanced at her watch. "We'd better get going. We have a shopping trip to get in before our lunch reservation at two." She turned to Alice. "You'll find a suitable wrap in the closet, dearest."

Go out in public, looking like this? Deep within the Alice exterior, unable to voice his protests, Alex shuddered at the thought. Everyone will know, won't they? Aloud, in a breathy voice, Alice replied, "Of course, Mistress," as she pulled the crocheted shawl out of the closet.

Three hours later, after scouring the most expensive stores in the city to find more girlish dresses for Alice--all put on Alex's expense account, for the maximum of embarrassment--the three attractive women were sitting in one of the poshest restaurants in the city. Diners of both sexes observed them with mixed feelings of lust and envy.

They ate sparingly, though expensively. Jessica and Amber sat close to Alice on each side, teasing and playing with their new toy. One would surreptitiously brush Alice's thighs, while the other whispered sexy suggestions in her ear.

"Alice, why don't we go to the ladies' room and get rid of those panties?" Jessica cooed, as Amber reached under her skirt and pettis to stroke the boy-girl's cock through her satin undies.

His cock twitched and Alice squirmed. "Ooooh, she liked that idea, Mistress!" Amber reported.

Jessica placed her palm lightly on Alice's cheek and turned her face. Then she took Alice's face in her hands and deeply kissed her. "Like to have me work on your sissy-cock while Mistress did that?" Amber asked. Alice blushed, visible even through her makeup.

With lunch over, Jessica ordered both of her slaves to follow her to the ladies' room. It had a large changing room attached, and the mistress led them to it, locking the door behind her.

"Amber, on your knees and get those panties off little Alice," she demanded. The voluptuous lesbian did as ordered. "Now, suck that sissy-cock." Amber's full red lips surrounded Alice's member. Jessica again thrust her tongue deep into Alice's lipsticked mouth, the combination bringing Alice to a raging hard-on.

"She's going to come!" Amber announced.

"Not until I say so!" Jessica commanded. "Alice, you can come when I tell you...and I'll tell you by saying sweet young thing. Understand?" Caught up in her lust, Alice could only grunt and nod her head in reply. "Good." Jessica directed her attention to Amber, "Keep at it, sweetheart." Amber redoubled her efforts on Alice's cock, while Jessica reached under the back of the boy-girl's skirt and pettis and began to play with her sissy-pussy.

The power of the impending orgasm was becoming unbearable for Alice. Jessica finally thrust her fingers into her sissy-pussy and said, "The next time we get together, Alice won't be such a sweet young thing!"

And Alice came, the most powerful orgasm the salesperson could ever remember having.

More to come

Reluctant Prom Queen, Conclusion

Part Three: Queen for a Day?

Sam spent the afternoon as Samantha at Liz's house, practicing for his "debut" at the prom later that month. He go home just before dinner, expecting his father to have gotten home and to swiftly put an end to all this ridiculous feminizing.

"Your dad's flight was delayed," Mrs. Wilson explained, when Sam asked. "I don't expect him in before midnight at the earliest," she continued.

Sam shrugged, still certain his father would not let all the changes go on a moment later. His mother raised her eyebrows and smiled secretively at Margaret.

Sam was up and out to school before his father was awake, apparently, because Sam saw nothing of the elder Wilson male the next morning. School was still abuzz about the mystery prom queen candidate, and Sam pretended the same interest, all the while hoping nobody took a real close look at that photo on the bulletin board. Fortunately, he didn't see Liz or his sister all day, so he was seemingly rescued from another afternoon as Samantha.

He burst in the door and called out, "Dad?" He wanted to get all this cleared up as quickly as possible. There was no answer. He began to explore the house and went up to his parents' room. There he was greeted by an unfamiliar sight: An attractive brunette woman, clad in a classic maid's outfit, was bent over the nightstand, dusting it--presenting a lovely picture of her long, black-nyloned legs on their black patent heels, and of her pert, pantied bottom.

"Hello? Who are you?" Sam asked.

The woman turned her head toward him and smiled. "Why, good afternoon, Miss Samantha. Welcome home!"

Sam gasped. The "maid" was his father. "She's quite lovely, isn't she, Samantha?" The boy turned to discover his mother, his sister, and his transformed little brother in the hall behind him.

"Mom! How could you do this? How did you do this?" Sam blurted.

"Daddy was never delayed," Margaret replied. "His plane landed just when it was supposed to--but right after you left Liz's house yesterday, Mom sent him over. We worked our 'magic' on her and here's Belinda, our lovely servant!" Sam was non-plussed; his father's name was Bill.

"I don't believe this!" he cried out.

"Believe it, brother," Margaret countered. "Here, I'll prove it to you." She spoke to the maid: "Belinda, Bill's home."

Immediately, a change came over the vision in satin and lace. Her feminine movements became awkward and she stumbled on her spike heels. "Carol, what's the meaning of this? Why have you gone along with Margaret and Liz's mad scheme?"

"Let's just say Margaret and I were tired of living in a home where we were outnumbered three to two. We've decided an all female household is a much more pleasant experience," his wife replied. "Belinda's the maid." Instantly, the transformed husband's ability to imitate femininity returned. Mrs. Wilson turned to her son. "Satisfied? There's no way out for you, now, Samantha, dear."

Margaret walked up to her twin brother, looked him straight in the eye, and said, "Prom sissy." And the protests forming on Sam's lips died without receiving breath.

Two weeks later, Sam joined his sister and Liz at a local beauty salon for their pre-prom makeovers. The salon staff had been let in on the secret of Samantha, and girls decided to let Sam have the "joy" of experiencing the makeover in his male persona. When told of their plans, Sam could merely groan. He knew the situation was far outside his control.

Margaret and Liz had insisted that he let his hair grow over the six weeks since their plan had been set in motion and it was now long enough for a sophisticated style without a wig. The final look, after much rolling and spraying and drying, was a shoulder-length page boy, with a red flower perched in the front. His makeup was done dramatically, even more impressive than the glamour job that had so impressed his classmates.

The salon staff had even agreed to help in dressing him, so that the real girls could concentrate on their own prom appearance. Stripped to nudity, Sam's prom wear started with white satin panties, followed by a matching corset, laced to the tightest he'd experienced in his short time as a transvestite--whittling his waist down to a mere 22 inches. Sheer nude stocking were attached to the garters of the corset and a well-padded bra was wrapped around his chest, expanding his faux bosom to an eye-catching 36C.

Now came the dress, so white, lacy and virginal it might be mistaken for a wedding gown. It fell nearly to the floor, giving just a peek at his well-turned ankles. The salon staff placed his feet in white satin pumps with four-inch heels, and draped a retro strand of long pearls around his neck.

"When do I get to see what Liz and Margaret are wearing?" he asked. "At the prom, and not before," the salon owner said, grinning. "We're even sending you in a separate car."

True to their word, they bustled the lace-bedecked boy out into a waiting limousine. Sam saw another identical car parked behind his, and thought he spotted two dark images climb in as well.

Moments later, the limos pulled up in front of the country club, site of Ridley High's prom. The driver opened Sam's door and said, "They want you to go over to the other car, now." Realizing he still had no choice, Sam minced over to the rear passenger door of the other limo. The tinted window rolled down just a crack and Margaret's voice was heard: "Prom sissy."

Sam's fears and worries disappeared as Samantha, the aspiring prom queen, took over his body. The limo driver opened the doors and Samantha's cohorts stepped lightly from their carriage. "Walk with us, Samantha," Liz commanded and the three entered the country club hall, pausing at the top of the stairs to be announced.

"The mystery queen candidate, Samantha, with her court, Liz Carpenter and Margaret Wilson," the announcer cried, and all eyes on the dance floor turned to the trio in the entrance.

They made quite a sight: Samantha in her virginal white lace was flanked on the left by Liz, who wore a figure-hugging black leather gown with a keyhole over her ample cleavage, a slit up the side, and matching patent-leather platform sandals. Her black hair had been frizzed and permed into a mane that declared her dominance.

One the right was Margaret: Her hair, every bit as coppery red as her "sister's," was piled on her head. She, too, was in black--but it was a stunning column gown with bare shoulders and a slit skirt that revealed her matching formal sandals. It was all accented with elbow length black satin gloves.

The assembled teens applauded. The election of prom queen was a foregone conclusion-- Samantha was the winner. But with Sam apparently nowhere in evidence, there was no prom king that year, so Samantha danced the victory waltz with her "lady-in-waiting," Liz. As they spun around the floor, Margaret cut in and asked, "OK. You've got your queen, where's mine?"

Liz stopped for a moment and eyed the tuxedo-clad boys staring at the three beauties. She waved her hand in a circle, indicating them. "See one you like?" She grinned, as Margaret surveyed the crowd like a tiger picking its prey from the herd.

THE END

More Dani at Prissy's Sissies

Two more of my cartoons have been published in the latest issue (#67) of Prissy's Sissies. There's a fee, but it's relatively small and definitely worth it for fans of forced feminization!

Poll Results

My readership seems a touch older than I'd figured. What happened to the internet as the domain of the young? (Though I should talk .)

No new poll immediately. I'm working on some stuff that has to take precedence for now.

Reluctant Prom Queen, Part Two

Glamour Session

Sam nearly dropped the phone as he looked down at himself, still clad in the green dress and heels. Sudden realization of all that his sister and her friend had done to him rushed in upon him. "You'll never get away with this, Liz," he bellowed into the phone. "My mother will never stand for it!"

"You might be surprised." Sam whirled at the matter of fact tone of his mother's voice. Mrs. Wilson stood in the doorway, her hands crossed over her bosom, an odd smile on her face. "I've grown tired of putting up with the way you treat your sister and me. This looks like the perfect chance to teach you a lesson, you prom sissy." She grinned.

Sam's demeanor changed again as the Samantha personality took over his body. The breathy voice of the would-be teen queen spoke into the phone, "I have to go now, Liz." he hung up and demurely followed his mother into the living room, where Margaret was waiting.

"What's next, Margaret?" Mrs. Wilson asked.

"Well, we have to get Samantha's picture on the nomination board at school--and we want her to look her best for that," Margaret replied, grinning. "I thought a visit to the glamour photographer tomorrow, for a complete makeover and shooting session, was in order."

"A wonderful idea," the older woman agreed. "Should we prepare your little brother for the trip, too?"

"Oh--definitely...and Samantha can help."

Little brother? Deep within the mind shared with Samantha, Sam's psyche struggled to be felt. They're going to pull this on poor Kenny? He's only 12!

Later that evening, Margaret had arranged everything in the living room. A little of the trance-inducing powder had been placed in Kenny's soda and now the pre-teen boy was sitting, head lolled on his chest, in the most comfortable chair in the room.

Once he was out, Mrs. Wilson escorted Samantha into the room as well, carrying an assortment of Margaret's fanciest clothes. She and her erstwhile son had spent the afternoon in the attic, digging out her daughter's old party dresses and Sunday church clothes.

"I think we'll dress Kenny first...and then make the psychological changes," Margaret advised. "My text books say that often has a stronger effect." The first outfit they tried on the entranced Kenny was a white dress with a matching bolero jacket and hat. They combed and teased his blonde hair to a feminine look, and lightly enhanced his features with blush, mascara and a pink lipstick. Pleased with the look, Margaret decided it was time to add her little brother to the family's distaff side.

"Kenny, can you hear me?"

"Yeesssss," the child slurred in reply.

"Very good. Kenny, I'm going to tell you some things I want you to remember, OK? You must never forget what I'm about to tell you."

"I won't forget, Margaret," he answered.

His sister moved closer to the cross-dressed boy and spoke softly but insistently. "You are dressed as a girl. You love being dressed this way. Has your little thing ever gotten hard when you saw a girl or played with yourself?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Well, being dressed like this makes it harder than it's ever been before. You love that feeling. You crave that feeling. When you're dressed this way, your name is Connie. What's your name?"

"Connie," he replied, smiling slightly.

"Is your little thing hard right now?"

"Harder than it's ever been before," the mesmerized child answered.

"Good," Margaret affirmed. "Now, I'm going to let you wake up in a few moments. But whenever you hear me or Mommy say, 'taffeta rustles,' you will go right back to sleep, waiting for us to tell you what to do. And when we say, Connie cutie,' you will wake back up. Do you understand that?"

"Yes," the boy now named Connie responded. "Taffeta rustles means I go to sleep; Connie cutie means I wake up."

"Very good." Margaret turned to her mother. "He's all set. Even if he ever starts to give us trouble about 'Connie,' we have the advantage of being able to strengthen the suggestion at any time!" Mrs. Wilson grinned in anticipation of never having to deal with another teenaged boy. Her daughter turned back to her erstwhile little brother. "And now it's time to wake up, Connie cutie!"

The pre-teen transvestite fluttered his mascaraed eyelids and a smile spread again on his shiny pink lips. "Oh, Margaret, Mommy--why haven't I ever been Connie before now?" he cried.

"We didn't know you wanted to be, " his mother fibbed. "Just like we didn't know Sam really wanted to be Samantha."

And Samantha, watching all this in frustation, thought, But I don't want to be a girl...and neither does Kenny, really. Where is all this going?

"We're going to have the most beautiful portraits done!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, as she escorted her two new daughters, together with Margaret into Glamour Girls, the photography studio. Samantha and Connie were unable to resist the charms of their sister Margaret's hypnotic skill and willingly accompanied the two real women.

Once there, the studio staff gushed over the beauty of their subjects. The makeup artist was particularly enthralled with the coppery good looks of Samantha's red hair and the woman in charge of wardrobe enthused over Samantha's tall, willowy body. "I just know we can make her absolutely gorgeous!" they cried, almost in unison.

In time they had Samantha's hair in a straight pageboy with just a hint of curl at the ends, her face graced with only the slightest of makeups. Her body was draped in an elegant, dark column gown, its deep colors making the pale glow of her face stand out like a beacon.

Contrastingly, little Connie was in a bright red party outfit, all stripes and bold colors, her shimmering blond curls set off beneath a cute little hat. Completing the picture of childish glamour were a pair of lace-cuffed white anklets worn with red patent-leather Maryjanes.

The afternoon was spent with the two boy-girls posing for hours. Margaret and their mother then spent some time poring over the proof sheets--with Margaret being especially careful to choose just the right shot to go up on the prom court nominations board on Monday morning.

The crowd had gathered around the bulletin board outside the prom planning office. "Who is she?" went the murmur among the girls. "Why can't I find a babe like that?" went the complaint among the boys.

Sam Wilson fought his way through the crowd to stare in disbelief at the picture posted under the heading "Mystery Candidate". There, in all her glory, was Samantha. There was Sam, in the feminine role Margaret and Liz--and now his mother--had forced upon him.

Oh god...what's Dad going to say when he gets back from his business trip? Sam wondered.


More to come

Selina's Transformation

The following is an essay by Selina Chalise, about her journey to become the kind of woman she wants to be. It's relevant here because hypnosis has been a big part of her transformation. In addition, I've been working with her on visualizing exactly the kind of woman she wants to be, by taking her photos and manipulating them into her fantasy image. My latest attempts are here. If you want to see the originals, check out this post on A Bimbo's Sanctuary.

I've known for many years that I was different from other males, right back to the time when I was about 7 to 10 years old. I used to play with my sister, putting on mum's makeup or playing dress up. I used to love trying on my sister's clothes and shoes--she's two years older, but didn't think anything of it, not at that age anyway. She used to put makeup on me and dress me up. It was a lot of fun. It felt so much better than doing boy's things. Then, as we both entered secondary school and my sister got older, obviously these things stopped--although my feelings didn't change. I would see the girls at school and want to wear what they were wearing--short skirts and blouses--rather than the shirt and pants the boys had to wear. I loved hanging out with the girls...they seemed to have so much more fun talking about clothes and makeup and hairstyles.

My teen years were relatively normal and I did all the boy things--football, rugby, getting drunk, etc. I had plenty of girlfriends and things seemed pretty normal for quite a long time. I left school, got a good job, and hung out with mates, went on lads' holidays and just had a lot of fun. I liked having girlfriends and loved being in a relationship--but I would see a girlfriend wearing a sexy outfit and still wanted to wear it. I looked at her body and wished mine would be the same and that I had breasts and a nice curvy bum. We would go shopping for clothes and I would be looking at things I would like to wear and admiring all the sexy high heels. Women's clothes are so much more exciting than men's, I think.

I carried on through my 20s; nobody had any idea how I felt inside. To my friends, I was a normal outgoing bloke who loved the girls and loved going out. I went to football matches, got drunk, had fights, all the usual stupid things blokes do.

Then when I got to about 28 years old, I decided to buy some clothes off the Internet. My feelings were getting too strong to quash. I ordered a skirt and blouse, along with some knickers, bra, and heels. I couldn't wait for them to arrive and when I put them all on, it felt fantastic! It just felt right! I experimented with makeup and practised applying it. This went on for a couple of years--I bought bits of clothing along the way while still trying to suppress my feelings. I had also discovered I had a deeply submissive side and I was exploring that too.

At the age of about 30, I made the decision to act on my feelings and try to find similar people--hopefully someone that could help transform me into the person I wanted to be. Around this time I met Mistress Amber. I replied to an ad for a submissive sissy looking for training and it was the best thing I did. Just being able to talk to someone about my feelings was great and she helped me realise I could become the person I wanted to be.

I knew that given a choice I would be a sexy bimbo with big breasts and ass and Mistress Amber convinced me it was possible. From the off, she told me to buy certain items of clothing and large breast forms. They felt amazing when I put them on! She explained that eventually I would be bigger than that in real life and would be her bimbo slut. We talked all the time and she would give me tasks to do--whether it be practising makeup, walking in heels, posing for pics. It all felt great! By now I knew I would never be really happy until I became the person I felt I was meant to be. Mistress Amber explained how far she wanted to take me and asked me if I was comfortable with this. Obviously I was, and so then we talked about surgery and body shaping and also hormones.

This takes me to the present day. At the moment I feel far more comfortable in a dress and heels than in male clothing. I just love tottering about the house--they make my legs look far more shapely. I wear female underwear almost permanently now and dress as often as possible. I am not remotely interested in male clothing and just love buying skirts,and tops, heels, etc. Mistress Amber has talked about me joining her in the USA...this is something I want a great deal! There I can have surgery with her guidance and finally become the bimbo I am meant to be. She introduced me to hypnosis and this has strengthened my desires a great deal.

I think the hypnosis Mistress Amber has done with me has really strengthened my desire to change and become the bimbo I want to be. I think the desire has to be there already to a degree and you have to want the changes hypnosis is telling you. She gave me a series of mantras to say to myself while listening to subliminal recordings. She also gave me mp3's to listen to--various ones such as how to be a diva or a whore. It takes a while to be able to trance and see yourself and really believe you are becoming the person you want to be.

I have found that all the desires I had have become much stronger--for example I wear female underwear almost all the time now. It doesn't feel right without it. As soon as I get home from work, I change into female clothing and heels. This is when and how I feel comfortable. In addition, the desire for sexual activity has become unbearable and, as a result, I have decided to date some men I have met. The only thing I can focus on is the person I want to become, then I believe I will be really happy and content. I continue to use the hypnosis mp3's and strengthen my desires and will.

Mistress Amber also introduced me to Dani who is a genius at altering images--this has given me a clear vision of what I want to become. I have just received my first batch of hormones and I am excited about the changes I will experience. I also want some sexual experience with men. This will be a big step for me, but it's something I want a lot. To be totally feminised and live in the USA with Mistress Amber is the dream I want, to have her guidance in person would be great. I can't wait for the day when I come round from surgery and see my huge breasts for the first time--it will be amazing! When I'm all finished I will be the bimbo I always wanted to be walking down the street with huge tits and ass with big lips and long hair! I will finally be Mistress Amber's bimbo whore--transformed by her and owned by her! My love and loyalty will be there for ever!

Playing with Paperdolls

I found this delightful book on remainder at Borders. It was, as you can see from the price tag, just six bucks. FTR, it's Fashion Parade Paper Dolls by Tom Tierney, Dover Publications, ISBN13: 978-0-486-46323-0, ISBN10: 0-486-46323-0

I'm currently scanning in the whole set, for use in playing with illos and captions for A Bimbo's Sanctuary. Here's a sample of the styles from the '60s:

Reluctant Prom Queen, Part One

A Sisterly Conspiracy

"I don't believe it!" Elizabeth shouted angrily. She was looking at the list of candidates for Ridley High's prom queen--and her name was on it. She'd be the first to admit she was among the prettiest and most popular girls in the school, but she was also an ardent feminist who considered the whole prom queen competition a frivolous and sexist routine.

She turned to her friend, Margaret. "You know who's behind this, don't you?" Margaret advised. "My twin brother, Sam. He's never forgiven you for walking out on him at the homecoming dance when you were both chosen as king and queen. He knows he's a shoo-in for prom king...and he wants to force you to be at his side."

Elizabeth nodded, her brown curls bouncing. An idea was forming in her calculating mind. She studied Margaret's features, the red hair and freckles so like her brother's. "Hmmm," she started, "are the nominations closed yet?"

"No, they won't actually hold the voting until the prom itself, you know that," Margaret replied. "What cunning little plan are you cooking up?"

"I need a couple of days to get everything together," Liz answered. "Can you get Sam over to my place on Saturday afternoon?"

"Sure--I'll tell him there's a prom planning meeting. We're all on the committee," Margaret said, wondering just what her friend had in mind.

"Great--two o'clock!"

Precisely at two Saturday afternoon, Margaret and Sam rang Liz's doorbell. Sam's tongue practically hung out of his mouth when the beautiful brunette answered the door in a skin-hugging leather minidress, sheer stockings and six-inch heels, with her face made up in the most sultry of styles. Margaret just grinned at the effect her friend was having on her twin.

Liz got her "guests" seated in the living room, then went to the kitchen for drinks. She returned shortly and made a great fuss making sure that Sam got exactly the drink he had requested. Then she snuggled up next to him on the couch, while Margaret settled bemusedly in an easy chair on the other side of the room.

"So, Sam," Liz began, "I hear you're the one who nominated me for prom queen."

Sam smiled, but shook his head, "Not me, Liz." His words sounded a little slurred and his eyelids were getting heavy.

"You sure about that, brother?" Margaret asked.

"Aaabsooluutellllly." Sam struggled to get the word out and to keep his eyes open. But he failed--he was dead to the world only moments after taking his first few sips of the drugged soda.

"What'd that stuff do to him?" Margaret inquired.

"Oh, it just put him to sleep," Liz answered. "The real changes come now. I've been studying Advanced Placement Psychology this semester, and I've learned a lot about the suggestibility of the human mind. In this state, we can make a lot of alterations in Sam's head...and get him to help with quite a few on his body as well!" she giggled.

She turned to the deeply-breathing young man. "Sam, can you hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you." His voice was clear but quiet now.

"I'm going to teach you a few things about yourself. I want you to remember all of them, but only act on them when I say, prom sissy. Do you understand?"

"I'll only use what you teach me when you say, prom sissy," he repeated.

"Very good," Liz said. "Now, listen carefully. Your name is not Samuel, it's Samantha. You're a boy, but a boy who likes to dress like a girl and take orders from girls. Wearing girl's clothes is a terrific sexual thrill for you; it makes your little cock harder than anything else you can imagine, even having sex or masturbating. Even better is being made to wear the clothes that a pretty girl picks out for you.

"You love to wear makeup; you feel naked without it. Your dream is to spend a day at a beauty salon and coming out as the sexiest, most beautiful girl in town.

"Now, I'm going to let you be awake again in a few minutes...but remember, if I say prom sissy, you'll be Samantha, and if I say prom king, you'll be Sam again. Now when I count to five, you'll wake up, you won't remember being unconscious or anything we've done until you hear those special words.

"One." Sam's shoulders moved a little. "Two." His head raised up off his chest. "Three." He took a deep breath. "Four." He stretched his arms. "Five." His eyes opened and he looked around at the girls.

"Well, we going to have a meeting or what?" he asked.

"Sure," Liz responded. "Margaret and I had an idea--how about, in addition to the usual prom court, we had a prom sissy as well?" She watched the change that came over the red-haired boy, as his hands became limp things on the ends of his wrists, as he crossed his legs at the ankles, as he tried to surreptitiously scratch at his now uncomfortable clothing.

"Liz," he asked, his voice quieter and breathier than his usual strong tenor, "do you have a dress I could borrow?"

"Why sure, Samantha," she replied. "By the way, do you think I'm a pretty girl?"

"I think you're just about the prettiest girl in Ridley High, Liz," the entranced boy answered.

"Am I pretty?" Margaret asked as well.

"Nearly as pretty as Liz," he said.

"Well then, Samantha, you should just love wearing anything we pick out for you, right?" Liz suggested.

"I'd love to wear whatever you choose," Samantha answered.

"My god--she's adorable!" Margaret exclaimed. "I had no idea Sam would make such a gorgeous girl!"

The erstwhile big man on campus was dressed in just the first of the several outfits his sister and Elizabeth had prepared for his "debut" as Samantha. It was a skirt and blouse combination, and like all of the outfits it featured a very short hemline, high heels and a feminine hairstyle, created by use of one of the several wigs Margaret kept for her bad hair days. Samantha was posing and primping in front of the full-length mirror in Liz's room.

"You know, I almost think he's falling in love with himself," Margaret whispered to her co-conspirator.

"Good," Liz replied. "That's exactly the reaction I was hoping for."

Within another few hours, they had run him through the rest of the clothes they had lain out: a cropped white top, baring his mid-driff above a very short black skirt; an orange sheath with matching handbag and big, girlish sunglasses; and a flattering green minidress, worn with strappy five-inch heels and a becoming page-boy bob.

"Samantha," Liz beckoned the "girl" to her side. "It's time to go home. I'll call you later."

As the transformed boy gathered the girlish things he now considered his, Liz again conferred with his sister. "You're sure your folks are OK with this?"

"Positive," was her answer. "Dad's away for a few days and Mom's really eager to see what we've done with Sam. She says if it really works she has some plans for my little brother Kenny."

It was seven p.m. The phone rang at Margaret and Sam's house. Their mother picked it up, listened a moment and said, "Samantha--it's for you."

"Hello?" the boy/girl asked, still dressed in the most feminine manner.

At the other end of the line, Liz spoke but two words, "Prom king."

More to come

Poll Results

Well, I must admit I was surprised once again by this one. I had no idea so many of the responses would be "single".

In the new poll, I'm continuing the "snapshot" of my blog visitors.