Tuesday, July 29, 2008
On the other hand, Gilligan's Ginger is running neck and neck (or bust and bust, maybe) with Pam, so maybe all is not lost.
Hart walked through the mall, certain he was attracting attention, but unable to do anything about it. His slightly shaggy hair only added to his unusual appearance, as did the soft touch of cosmetics that Alicia had insisted upon.
His appearance was unusual because--despite looking mostly male--he was dressed in clothes that otherwise might have been worn by a teen-aged girl. Alicia had insisted on that, too. "Nothing overtly feminine--no frills or skirts or anything for this outing," she had told him. "I want you to look like a sissy, not a girl," she smiled.
And he definitely was androgynously sissy in this outfit: hip-slung tight jeans that ended at his ankles, revealing his nylon-clad legs just a bit; white patent-leather flats with little bows on the instep; and a midriff-bearing t-shirt with a big pink heart on it (Alicia delighted in that kind of wordplay).
But the most important part of the ensemble was the belt...a belt especially designed by his genius fiancee, who specialized in electronics for mind control and subliminal influence. The circuits in the otherwise innocent-looking belt sent signals to his nervous system, forcing him to move with an exaggeratedly feminine gait, swaying his hips and taking mincing small steps.
Combined with Alicia's post-hypnotic suggestions that made his voice into a giggling sing-song, the whole effect was of a male who would have been happier as a female.
Maybe I would be happier as a female, Hart thought, as he made his way back to the center court, where Alicia awaited him. It would certainly be easier than this half-life I've been living ever since I found out exactly why Alicia said "yes" to our engagement!
Alicia said yes because it had always been her goal to have a feminized hypnotic servant as a husband...and Hart's slender frame, along with his easy susceptibility to her mesmeric charms, had made that goal readily attainable.
She had begun her hypnotic dominance of Hart long before he even knew what her ultimate plans were...on their very first date, in fact. He hadn't realized she was hypnotizing him--and wasn't aware of those early trance sessions until much later--but she'd easily put him under and begun "feminizing" his mind a little at a time.
The earliest part of Heart's hypnotic training (Alicia insisted on that spelling of his name) was subtle, as Alicia put him in a light trance then made him watch her make up her face. All the time, she suggested that watching her use the cosmetics made him aroused, that the smell of the make-up increased that arousal...and that the arousal would be greatly increased if he used them himself.
"That's it, darling, see how carefully I outline my lips," she'd coo, carefully observing as his crotch bulged in response to her suggestions. "Imagine if your lips could be just as red and desirable as mine! See how the mascara makes my eyelashes long and flirty--wouldn't you love to be able to bat your eyes and flirt the same way!?"
After a week of such nightly sessions, Heart had to agree that he wanted to try on her cosmetics. Alicia cooperated by adding a shoulder-length wig and, again, putting him under so that all her previous hypnotic suggestions would be in operation.
Heart carefully applied the make-up as he'd so mesmerically and arousingly watched Alicia apply it, ending with a lavish coating of lip gloss from a brush. The result was exactly what Alicia knew it would be--Heart was a knock-out and was totally enthralled by the idea of looking this beautiful!
But that was far from the end of Heart's hypnotic feminization. Alicia had lots more in mind for her future husband. She bought him a new stereo system for his bedroom...one she had surreptitiously modified to her own purposes. On a timer system, even when apparently turned off, every evening it played a series of subliminal suggestions to Heart's mind:
You want to be pretty; you want to be feminine. The most feminine girls are the most ditzy, the most air-headed. Therefore, you will be a feather-brained bimbo whenever you are in feminine attire. You will giggle, you will simper, you will pout. You will flirt, you will tease--but you will never follow through without my express permission!
That and similar descriptions floated through Heart's thoroughly prepared mind every evening for a month...so that when Alicia first proposed something more than just a make-up session, Heart jumped at the chance to be the air-headed thing she'd been trained to be.
Today's excursion was just the latest in Alicia's sexually humiliating adventures for Heart. The first had occurred just weeks after she had cemented her control over the feminized male. She'd picked out a mildly feminine yet overtly masculine outfit--a white silk shirt with long pointed collar (actually a blouse; it buttoned the "wrong" way) and tight-fitting black slacks that flared just a little too much at the ankle. Heart's shoes were perfectly normal male slip-ons and he wore no makeup and had his hair in a normal male style.
Together they strode through this same mall that day, enjoying each other's company, until Alicia looked directly at Heart and said, "Beauty is as beauty does."
That was the trigger phrase that dropped him into trance...and she deepened it before telling him, "I will shortly order you to open your eyes. When you do, you will act completely normally, but remain in trance. You will obey all my requests as orders."
He nodded in agreement. "Open your eyes." Heart's eyes fluttered open and he continued walking with Alicia, seemingly normal but still completely hypnotized. As they passed a shoe store famed for its wild and sexy styles, Alicia said, "Let's go in here."
The female clerk greeted them and asked, "What can I do for you?"
"A pair of sexy shoes for my friend here," Alicia replied. "Sit down, Heart dear, and let her fit you." Unable to disobey such a request, Heart sat and extended his foot. The clerk giggled when she realized he was wearing nylons over red-polished nails. Having determined his size, she brought out several pairs of shoes--a very bare sandal, an ankle boot, and red patent pumps. All had six-inch heels.
"The pumps, I think," Alicia said, smiling.
"Yes, our classic 'fuck-me' shoes," the clerk noted, grinning. She carefully fitted them to Heart's feet.
"Stand up, darling," Alicia asked, "and walk for me like the sissy you are."
Heart swayed, sashayed, and minced like a girl, perfectly balanced on the stilt-like heels. When the clerk began to package the shoes, Alicia said, "No, she'll wear them."
They proceeded out into the mall, where the sight of the (almost) male-clad man in the red stilettos attracted everyone's attention. Even in her trance, Heart blushed to the roots of her hair. As they reached the center court, Alica snapped her fingers before Heart's eyes...and she stumbled and almost fell as the trance ended and her feminine ability to handle the six-inch heels vanished.
Hart was devastated by the realization of what had gone on...and intensely aroused by it as well. Alicia brushed her hand over his bulging crotch. "The way I see it, darling, you have two choices--you can try to maintain your balance in those shoes as a male, thereby attracting even more attention. Or you can let me put you back into trance as the lovely Heart--you'll still attract attention, I'm sure, but it will be somewhat more positive."
That was the beginning of Heart's fetish for extreme high heels, which was soon joined by a an equally strong fetish for mini-skirts--short, tight, revealing. Over time, they came to be the clothes Heart wore when Alicia didn't demand something else.
But Alicia wanted a method to control and monitor Heart's reactions at all times, so she began to work with electronics that would transmit subliminal messages to her transformed fiancee's mind and permit her to bring him in and out of his feminine persona even at a distance. Her first device was a small metallic implant she placed on his shoulder. Would others see it? She didn't care--she simply imagined the delightful humiliation Heart would undergo in explaining her lover's controls.
A favorite outfit for Heart to wear with this controller was a little black dress that barely covered her ass and revealed her long, slender, shaved legs nearly to her crotch. With it, she wore six-inch slightly blocky heels.
But the final humiliating experience was still to come. A week after Heart's teeny-bopper stroll through the mall, Alicia allowed him to go out in completely male attire...his first such appearance in months. Though Hart was, by now, always aroused by his fiancee's feminizing, hypnotizing tricks, he was glad for the chance to be a normal male for a while--and a bit surprised by it, as well. He suspected Alicia was up to something, but he didn't know what.
He found out what it was when he felt a slight tingling at his shoulder...a sure sign that Alicia had activated the controller. Still completely male in his psyche, Hart discovered that his body seemed to be following a pre-programmed set of instructions. He found himself outside Alicia's favorite beauty salon. He gasped.
Alicia had long teased him with the idea of a complete makeover while he was still male in appearance and persona. He was compelled to enter the shop, all the while feeling his arousal grow. Sure enough, when he went in, there was Alicia, with the shop owner, an overtly gay guy named Maurice. They both smiled conspiratorially. "There he is, Maurice," Alicia announced. "My male lipstick lesbian lover. Make him beautiful for me."
She guided Hart to a prominent chair in the shop and the changes began. By the time it was over, Heart was a platinum blonde with curls piled on the top and back of her head. Her face was a model of feminine beauty, with arched eyebrows, long dark lashes, a pleasant blush, and full deep red lips. As Maurice patted the final touches into place, he spun her around to the mirror...and the electronic controller dropped Heart into trance.
Alicia approached her. "Are you pleased with your appearance, Heart?"
"Yes, Alicia, I'm more beautiful than I ever imagined I could be."
"Would you ever want to be male again? Tell me truthfully, there's no hypnotic compulsion."
"Never, Alicia. I am Heart, your sissy lesbian lover."
With that, Alicia removed the implant and Heart's trance ended. But Heart's female persona did not. The transformation was complete.
Monday, July 28, 2008
I plan to stay this way all day, until I need to pick up my son from work around four.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Here are the pics from today's dressing session (I ended it a little earlier than planned--a couple of absolutely necessary errands cropped up). The second one above, of course, is there because I just had to show off my legs a little.
A technical note: In these pics, I've changed the method I use to digitally mask my face. I had been using a "mosaic" tool; these were done with the "median" tool...I think it allows for a touch more of the expression to show through.
This one was shot with me sitting on the stairs, with the camera aimed up from the bottom. I'm trying to find some new locations in the house for photography. I originally wanted to attempt some shots of me standing on the stairs, but the angle is just too steep. I also wanted to try standing at the bottom, with the camera on the stairs and ran into the same problem.
In a few days, I'll probably work up some "fantasy" images from these shots. And, of course, more of them can be found here.
I also got a darker pair of stockings. I've come to the conclusion my legs look their best in dark hose. One purchase that didn't work out--I bought a waist cincher at Sears...but it's way too small! I couldn't even get it to close around my tummy.
Guess I'm stuck with just "sucking it in".
Pics later today.
I pulled into my driveway, and there was a momma duck and a brood of about eight ducklings crossing from my yard into my neighbor's, on the way to the creek that borders his property. The ducklings went through the chain link fence, but momma didn't fit.
I walked over and opened the gate. I watched as they crossed his yard to gate on the other side, in a wooden fence. I thought they'd all fit under the gate, but again, momma couldn't squeeze through. So I went into my neighbor's yard and opened that gate, too. Of course, momma and kids scampered to the other side of the yard when I entered...but I left and watched from a safe distance until they all safely went through the gate. Then I went in and closed the gate behind them.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Randy Grant smiled in anticipation. He'd seen a sample of this website on one of the newsgroups, and he'd worked for the past six hours to hack his way past the privacy measures. he was nearly certain he'd breached their defenses.
He typed in his false password and ID, then punched the enter key. Sure enough, a welcome screen loaded, complete with more of the dazzling pictures that had caught his eye on the newsgroup the day before. The site was filled with illustrations of beautiful women in provocative clothing--lingerie, leather, vinyl, rubber, extremely high heels, and boots.
That's odd, Randy thought. There's no e-mail address on the site, not even a copyright line indicating ownership. Who goes to this much trouble to shield his site from prying eyes and then doesn't take credit for it?
Shaking off his confusion, Randy began browsing the site. There was relatively little text, just captions identifying the models: "Paula, Roberta, Michelle, Carol, Marcia...." The list seemed endless.
And there was another oddity--as each page began to load, there seemed to be an odd flash on his monitor, as if something else momentarily appeared on screen and then just as quickly was replaced by the loading page. By the time Randy got to the fifth page of sexy photos, a strange thought was running through his head: How would it feel to wear these clothes?
"Ridiculous!" he said aloud. I might be a bit of a nerd, but I'm all guy, he mused. Still, imagine the attention the girls who wear this stuff must get!
On the next page came the shot that had originally caught his eye and riveted his attention to hacking his way to full access to the site. It was the most gorgeous pair of legs he'd ever seen, perched patent-leather pumps with six-inch heels and topped by a skin-tight shiny black vinyl miniskirt, revealing the thighs almost to the crotch.
He glanced at his watch. Geez--it's after midnight! I had no idea I'd been at this for so long! Sighing, he closed up the web browser, after bookmarking the page, and went to bed.
Randy's dreams that night were filled with the images from the remarkable website. He stirred in his sleep with arousal as he watched the fetish-clad lovelies dress in their leathers and rubbers and heels, and as they dressed each other as well. The final dream was the most disturbing: Four leather-clad women, in corsets and nylons and extreme high heels, dressed a completely naked form. But the subject's crotch was never clearly shown and its face seemed to always be in shadow. Finally, as it watching a carefully edited film, Randy watched as the image started at those same six-inch pumps, scanned up the long, sleek legs to the hips surrounded by the skin-tight vinyl miniskirt, and continued over the vinyl bustier pushing the tits up and together in tantalizing cleavage. The final view was of the still-shadowed face, as the light slowly brightened and the features were revealed--his features! Randy's features! This fetish-clad model, now simpering in submission before her dominant transformers was Randy himself!
Randy awoke with a start, to discover his cock harder than he could ever remember it, and his shorts wet and sticky with cum.
Later that day, Randy found himself compelled to again hack his way onto the site. The memory of last night's strange dream was fresh in his mind and he found himself picturing every image with a hidden face as his face! This time, Randy discovered an e-mail link and clicked on it.
I am enchanted by your website. Please let me know if it is possible to meet any of your lovely models."
Once again, as yesterday, each loaded page seemed to be preceded by an unusual flash on the screen. These flashes seemed to become more frequent and more intense as he came upon a new section, filled with photos of men half-transformed to women: Men with their short hair still apparent, but their faces lovingly feminized with blusher, eyeshadow, mascara, and lipstick; men with their flat chests unadorned, but their waists pulled in cruelly with corsets, their legs sleeked with sheer nylons and perched atop spike heels. And all of them apparently in a high state of arousal.
Randy discovered himself aroused as well.
Later during the session, he was told he had e-mail. Opening the message, he discovered it was from Mistress Amanda, webmistress of the site. The tone was surprisingly cold and commanding:
"You little pansy! Did you think you could hack into our website and not be noticed? Every time you have loaded a new page from the site, you have been impressed with a subliminal message that has altered your thoughts and desires. Finding yourself interested in women's clothing, sissy? Want to have a beautiful woman turn you into her sexy lesbian whore? Of course you do, because we have made you want it!
"High heel desire!"
Upon reading that last phrase, Randy seemed to blank out, unaware of anything until--what seemed like mere seconds later--a demanding female voice announced, "Wake up, sissy!"
He awoke to find himself in strange surroundings, with a group of four women around him, women exactly like the dominants of his dream the night before. Each was dressed in leather and heels, each was beautiful and sexy and certainly in control of the situation and of him. He struggled but could not move.
A tall blonde with her hair pulled back in a French twist stood before him. "How are you feeling, Sissy Randi?" He looked at her dumbfounded. "Yes, that is your name now--the only name you will be known by or answer to. Since you're such a computer expert, we've 'hired' you--on our terms--to prevent others from violating our security as you did. Of course, we've had to make sure you don't run off, not that the subliminal programming we've given you would permit that. Still, best to be safe for the first few weeks, right?"
She rolled a full-length mirror in front of him and the transformed hacker saw the new Randi for the first time. Her head was crowned with a long dark wig, bangs cut straight across above her eyebrows, the full length of the hair meeting her breasts. Yes, she had breasts--large, voluptuous globes held in check by the cups of the severe corset that pulled in her waist to mere 20 inches. The garters on the corset were attached to dark nylons, and her feet were slipped into black pumps with the most extreme heels Randi had ever seen--a full seven inches high.
But the worst of it was that she was bound--carefully tied at the wrists, knees and ankles with nylon rope. What's more, the entire image had aroused Randi once more--within his black satin panties his cock strained against its confinement.
As the dominant women left, Randi heard a giggling voice answer the phone outside the room: "IGR, Institute for Gender Realignment--how may I help you?"
I had intended to spend today in "June Cleaver" mode--in my summery floral print dress and the floral pumps that go with it. Two things threw a monkey wrench into those plans:
1. I went to my basement cache of girly things and discovered, after the last storm here, some moisture got into that area and the box of shoes (kept on the floor) had picked up some mold. Fortunately, none of them are totally destroyed (though I thought the pumps in question--being fabric--might have been). I was able to clean them and it looks like they'll survive...but it means my original outfit idea went into the rethink pile.
2. I've been waiting to hear from the guy who will install my new garage door...and he just called and wants to come over today for some measurements. Well, I can't meet him as "Pretty Sissy Dani", so...
Oh, well, I'm free on Friday, too. I'll plan for that, instead.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Carla had worked tirelessly to integrate the newcomers into the daily life of the town. The younger boys had all been successfully enrolled in the elementary school, where the former boys all got instruction in sewing and cooking, as well as their more academic studies, while the real girls concentrated on sports. The teenagers were at Stepton High School, cheering on the girls' sports teams, studying secretarial skills, and learning how to happily follow the lead of any real woman. The men were employed as maids, secretaries, housekeepers, and shop clerks. Two had married dommes who met them in Stepton and one--Elizabeth Bryant--had married the nanny who had lured him and his son to the town.
But there were still many in Stepton who had not met these new beauties and a number who were suspicious of anyone who had not been specifically brought to town and transformed by a resident. It's time, Carla thought, to show them exactly what I've accomplished.
The posters went up around town right after the New Year, inviting one and all to the First Annual Stepton Fashion Show and Beauty Pageant. Carla arranged for all 25 of the "volunteers" to appear as contestants.
Antonia stared into the mirror in the backstage dressing room. Am I really pretty enough to be in a fashion show, let alone a beauty contest? she thought. At least those were her surface thoughts. Far below, where Anthony's psyche still resided, other questions begged for answers: How did I let myself get into this? Yes, I love to dress, I love to be Antonia--but how did I wind up as the feminized toy of a whole town full of dominant lesbians?
"You seem pensive, Antonia," Carla Weathers noted, walking up behind the transformed stock broker. Since her arrival and change, Antonia had been Carla's personal financial advisor, carefully watching over the town leader's investments, increasing her fortune until the Weathers interests virtually controlled everything of value in Stepton.
"I'm just worried that I won't please you by doing well in the pageant, Mistress Carla," Antonia replied.
"Nonsense--just your being in the show pleases me," Carla said. "Lend me your ears!" Instantly, Antonia returned to that receptive state where Carla's merest statement or suggestion became an unalterable command. "Anthony, I need to talk to you."
"I'm here, Carla." It was the first time anyone in Stepton had heard Anthony's male tones in months. "Haven't you done enough to me?"
"Not nearly enough," she laughed. "All I've done so far, really, is give you precisely what you wanted when you came to Stepton--the chance to live as a woman, to be accepted as a woman. Now, I'll give you something far more.
"When you walk out on that runway in a few moments, you will behave as the most outrageous of sexy models. You know the drill--strut, flirt, lead with the hips! At some point--and I have no intention of telling you when--you will get a signal from me as I tug on my ear. When I do that, you--Anthony--will once again be the controlling part of your mind...but you will find it impossible to move in anyway that doesn't scream 'Antonia' and you will be unable to respond except as Antonia. But all your sexual and emotional needs will be Anthony's."
"Antonia, you're next," a voice called from the wings.
"Break a leg, darling," Carla said, smiling.
Antonia sashayed off, dressed in her first outfit, a white business suit with a plunging neckline that she wore without benefit of blouse or even camisole.
Meanwhile, in another dressing room, Corinne, the former nanny, watched carefully as her two charges prepared for their own appearance in the show and pageant.
Both had come a long way since their introduction to Stepton society and the dominant plans of their employee. Elizabeth now wore her hair in a flattering platinum pageboy, her eyes done up dark and shadowy to contrast the brilliant silver of her hair. Ginny's hair had also been lightened to an ash blonde, cut in a trendy shag.
"On the carpet,," Corinne said, and a new light dawned in both Elizabeth and Ginny's eyes. The phrase returned their male psyches to control. "I wanted you to have one last opportunity to be yourselves," she told them, "and I wanted you to experience the final changes I have planned for you."
"Final changes?" Elliott exclaimed. He stared at himself--at his massive tits and narrow waist--in the mirror. "What more can you possibly have in mind?"
"You'll see, my darling. But let's take care of Ginny first, shall we?"
She turned to the teenaged girl who had once been Elliot Bryant's son Jimmy. "Ding-dong!" It was the trigger phrase that activated Ginny's feminizing implant. "Stand here for me, love," Corinne directed. "I think it's time to make you look a bit more like your 'dad'.
"Tits--35C. Don't want them too big, yet...you still have some growing to do." Ginny's breasts swelled, creating an impressive cleavage in the v-necked mini-dress she wore. "Lips--sexy pout." The girl's lips swelled as well, with the lower lip growing full and fat.
Corinne stepped back to observe her work. "Excellent!" She turned back to Elliott. "Now you, dear. Who's the boss?"
"Stride--mince, mince," the former nanny announced. "Now, take a nice long step for me, Elliot." He tried, but discovered his legs would only move about six inches. "Yes, you'll mince about like a precious little pansy from now on, Elizabeth," Corinne explained. "Voice--Marilyn Monroe."
Elliot started to protest, loudly, but all that came out was a breathy whisper, filled with promises of sex and little girlish wonder: "Corinne, you're going too far--"
"Nonsense, Lizzie love," she interrupted. "I have every intention of having you win this little show. Break time." And Elliot's male psyche retreated, leaving only the breathy, mincing sex kitten Elizabeth behind.
The pageant finalists stood on the stage, stripped to their bras and chemises, their identical black pencil skirts hindering their strides. Antonia, Elizabeth and Ginny were all among the five contestants left.
The mistress of ceremonies stepped to the mike and explained the final contest. "The winner will be chosen by the finalist who gives the best answer to the question: 'How can I best serve my mistress?'"
The first to answer was a tall, leggy blonde who had come to Stepton as a former basketball player and who now worked as a cocktail waitress. She gave a long rambling answer about becoming the best girl she could possibly be. When she finished, there was a smattering of applause.
Next was Ginny. "As a teenager, I can best serve my mistress by learning all I can about running a home, so that I can take over my parent's duties and leave her with more time to spend pleasuring my mistress." There was louder applause and a few offers from the audience to teach Ginny about pleasuring a mistress as well.
The third to answer was a petite redhead, who had a very hard time not giggling through her answer, clearly embarrassed at even the prospect of describing how she served her mistress. Laughter started to build almost as soon as she began, with some catcalls about putting making her other cheeks match the ones that blushed right now.
Fourth was Elizabeth. "I serve my mistress best by becoming whatever she wants me to be. I have become this simpering, mincing kitten because she wishes it, and I willingly accept any other changes she might request."
Very loud applause followed. Clearly, this was the most popular answer yet.
The final response came from Antonia...but Carla (who had, after all, prepared the question) had a trick up her sleeve. "How can you best serve your mistress?" the emcee asked…and Antonia heard clearly the trigger phrase Carla had implanted earlier that day.
Instantly, Antonia sank to her knees and put her head under the emcee's skirt. She buried her face in the astonished emcee's privates, tearing away her panties and bringing extreme pleasure to her clit and pussy. In moments, the startled announcer was gasping in the throes of her orgasm, "Ladies, we have a winner! I present to you the first 'Miss Stepton Volunteer!'"
Friday, July 18, 2008
I think these are two of the most successful alterations I've ever done. I couldn't put a "face" on the one on the right, because the head angle didn't work, but the left one came out terrific!
I wish I could lose enough weight to make these real, but I suspect I'd still need help with my tummy. It's always been a little large (even in the old days when I was a mere 140 pounds) and I need a waist cincher at least back then.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Only one of these pictures seemed to lend itself to manipulation...Obviously, I've given myself a waist here (hopefully, a realistic one) and I also lengthened my legs a touch. The boobs are just slightly embellished (not bigger, just a little lighting enhancement).
Elliot Bryant looked over the images on the monitor. Yes, it certainly did seem like the answer to all his dreams and questions. Elliot had discovered in his mid-teens that he was a transvestite and had struggled with those desires all his life since. His marriage had been a delight, because his wife not only understood but encouraged his dressing, and Elliot was surprised--although ultimately happy--when he found out that she had
introduced their only child, James, to the wonders of feminine clothes at an early age.
But Elliot's wife had died two years ago, when Jimmy was but 11. Shortly after her death, the successful lawyer had hired Corinne as a housekeeper and nanny for his son. In time, she learned of both males' interest in cross-dressing and had come to support it as thoroughly as the late Mrs. Bryant had. So Elliot was not surprised when she drew his attention to the promotion for the town of Stepton.
"Let me investigate this a bit further, Corinne," he said, as sat down at the keyboard. Corinne stepped away and stood back, watching her handsome employer. As usual, she was dressed to show off her curvaceous body in a midriff-baring halter, tight shorts, and an open blouse. She knew both men in the house had a crush on her and she did nothing to discourage it. In fact, she openly flirted and teased both of them.
She left Elliot to his research and smiled. Yes, go ahead and investigate, my lovely Elizabeth, she thought. I've already done my share of investigation and I know Stepton is precisely what we've been looking for. It's certainly what I've been looking for!
A month later, the three stood in their new yard in Stepton, watching the moving men unload their belongings into the stately Victorian home they'd acquired. Corinne smiled openly when she spotted the elegant woman walking up the street toward them. "Carla!" she called.
The woman approached and hugged the nanny. "Corinne! I'm so glad you all decided to make Stepton your home!" Carla Weathers, the social leader of Stepton, was dressed in her usual leather business suit and satin blouse, her shapely legs perched on six-inch heels.
"Miss Weathers," Elliott said, stepping forward. "Corinne has told me so much about you and how helpful you were in arranging everything. Thank you so much!"
"Oh, it was my pleasure, Mr. Bryant," Carla replied. "Stepton was founded as a place for those with feminine interests to be happy and well looked after. I'm always pleased to help us grow!" She looked at his son. "Is this Jimmy?"
"Yes," Elliot answered. He gestured for the boy to join them. "Jim, this is Miss Weathers. You remember Corinne telling us about her."
Jimmy extended his hand for Carla to take. "Such a lovely face--he must be beautiful when dressed...but then, so must you," she said. Both males blushed at the praise.
"We try," Elliot answered. "We try."
You'll soon do more than try, Corinne mused. She took Carla by the hand and led her away.
"They have no idea of what will really happen here?" Carla asked, as she passed a mysterious device to the nanny.
"None at all," Corinne replied.
That evening, as Corinne helped Jimmy prepare for bed, she pressed the device against the back of the lad's neck. There was a soft "whoosh". Jimmy continued to go to bed as normal, but when he awoke, nothing would be normal ever again.
Later that evening, Corinne and Elliot were in the living room, relaxing from the strain of the move. Corinne watched as her employer rubbed his neck and shoulders.
"Mr. Bryant, feeling a bit stiff?" she asked.
"Yeah--too long sitting in the car, I guess." She walked around behind his chair and began to rub his neck and shoulders. Surreptitiously, she again placed the device against his neck and heard the quiet hiss of air. She continued to massage Elliot's body until he announced, "I think I'll call it a day, Corinne. See you in the morning."
"Certainly, Mr. Bryant. Sleep well." You'll see me in the morning, but who I will see may be completely different!
Elliot slept late and came downstairs to something of a surprise. His son was seated in the living room, but not as Jimmy. Rather, the boy was completely decked out as his feminine self, Ginny, and far more dramatically, far more sexily, far more provocatively, than Elliot could ever remember.
Ginny wore a red plaid miniskirt, revealing her bare shaved legs. On her feet were a pair of white ankle socks and a pair of black patent-leather Mary-Janes with four-inch heels. Her wig was auburn, straight, and tied in two long pigtails that hung below her shoulders. Her face was made up pale, the better to show off her elaborately shadowed and mascaraed eyes, and her full red lips.
"What's up, Ginny?" Elliot asked. "I thought we agreed to get the lay of the land before going full out as girls here."
"It was Corinne's idea," Ginny answered, her voice somehow more feminine than ever before. "And somehow I wanted to do whatever she asked."
"That's enough, Ginny love." Elliot turned to see his attractive employee in the doorway from the kitchen. She looked him straight in the eye and said, "Who's the boss, Elizabeth?"
Without hesitation, his eyes glazing over, Elliot replied, in a feminine tone, "You are, Mistress Corinne."
"Very good," the erstwhile nanny said. "By now, you've probably figured out that there will be a few changes in the household, now that we're in Stepton. You see, Stepton is not just a town that accepts transvestites; Stepton insists on transvestites. Every male in the town is under some form of forced feminization and under the control of the wonderful implants whose influence you both now feel.
"Elizabeth," she continued, "I've already gone a bit further with Ginny than with you. You may have noticed a fuller curve to her bosom--that's a result of the implant as well. It allows me to change not only your personalities but your bodies.
"Strip!" she commanded--and Elliot instantly began ripping off his male clothes. She walked toward him, and then began running her hands all over his body. "You already have such a feminine form, since you've always kept yourself clean-shaven and softened your skin with lotions and creams." She placed her hands over his nipples. "Tits--38D." She relished the feeling and the look on Elliot's face as his chest swelled, enlarging his smooth male torso to the required size. "I always did like a busty girl," she laughed. "But it's not quite right...hmm, nipples--half-inch." And Elliot's nipple areas enlarged as commanded.
Corinne stepped back. "Waist--25; hips--35" Elliot gasped as he felt his waist contract, forcing his internal organs into new configurations. "Legs--33." Elliot nearly fell as he suddenly realized his legs were getting longer and more shapely.
"Much better." She looked over her former employer with lust. "I do wish we had time for some real play, but we have to go shopping--we have a dinner date with Carla tonight and you two need the proper clothes.
"By now, you've figured out that the implants downloaded your new personalities last night. Both of you are, of course, completely submissive to me and to any real woman. You, Ginny, are a teenage tease, always ready to lure a boy--or a girl--on for some hot sex. You, Elizabeth, are a fashionable woman about town, but devoted to me, your lesbian lover. You both are constantly aroused by the clothes you wear, and will 'perform' at my command without hesitation. In fact--
"Hard-on!" Instantly, Elizabeth's cock became engorged and swelled to its full erect size. She glanced over and saw a noticeable bulge under her "daughter's" skirt, as well. "Excellent!" Corinne proclaimed. "Let's see how long we can keep that up, as it were!" And she laughed as she led Elizabeth off to dress for the shopping trip.
That evening, Elizabeth leaned in close to the vanity mirror, her boobs nearly spilling out of the strapless cocktail dress she wore, as she touched up her full and feminine lips.
"Yes, that's it, little Lizzy," Corinne advised. "And remember, every time you use lipstick, or blush, or mascara, or any other cosmetic, you feel more feminine. And what does feeling feminine do, darling?"
"It excites me, it arouses me," Elizabeth responded.
"And what does your arousal do to you?"
"It makes me want to make love to you, Mistress Corinne!"
"No time for that now, but we can't have you walking around horny all night, either. Hard-on. Now, continue fixing your face and when I say it's perfect, you can come."
Corinne watched for several minutes as her male lesbian slave completed her cosmetic ministrations. "Stop." Corinne examined the completed look. "Yes, that's perfect!"
"Oh........thank you, Mistress!" Elizabeth exclaimed as her come filled her panties.
More to come
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
This is my favorite, most comfortable outfit, undoubtedly. If I could, I'd wear it constantly. In the first set of pix, I'm wearing it with white hose and those awesome white sandals, just so I could see how they'd look with a "standard" length skirt. I think they look great (though I still couldn't wear them for more than about 15 minutes)!
Here's another close-up view. I love what those heels do for my calves!
Next I tried the same outfit with the alligator pumps. Note I'm wearing my wide white belt, instead of the cloth tie-belt that came with this dress. I think it accents what little waist I have.
Finally, I switched to one of my two fave pairs of pumps. These are the beige fabric version; I also have them in black leather. I'm trying to stick to the lighter colors for summer and switch back to the blacks for fall and winter.
More shots of this outfit can be seen here. And my next project will be taking some of these and altering them for a "fantasy" version of what I'd like to look like.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Here's the new suit with the short, straight, tight skirt. I don't quite get how the jacket on this is supposed to close--it has a bunch of ties, some from the inside and some from the outside, and a wooden circle/buckle sewn to the right side of the jacket at the opening. I tried several variations of looping the ties through that "buckle" but none of them really seemed to work.
Anybody got any ideas? If I can't figure how to make it work, I may just cut them all off and just wear it with the jacket always open. I bought it mostly for the jacket anyway.
I'm wearing this with a pink blouse and white hose and the new beige faux-alligator pumps. Here's a close-up of those:
And one look at the outfit with the jacket off:
There are more shots of this outfit here.
And one more set of pix still to come.
I've shown you this maid's uniform before...but this time I put a new set of crinolines under the skirt, so that it sticks out properly. The place I got them also carries layered petticoats, but they only had purple in stock when I went. If I can get white or pink, I'll add them to this for next time.
With this, I'm wearing fishnets (of course!) and those new extremely high white sandals I spoke of. These pix have been moderately manipulated--I took out the bra straps that show, and on the curtsey image, I created a pair of knockers for myself.
Here's a close-up of those shoes... these are definitely "posing" shoes only--just walking back and forth to set up the camera with each shot was painful. You want to learn what it's like to "mince"--these'll do it!
But--wow!!--do they make your legs look sexy and glamorous! See what I mean?!
There's one additional image of this outfit here.
More images later!
In ten years as a secret crossdresser, Anthony had seen hundreds of ads for services for transvestites, everything from makeovers to full-dress weekends, but nothing had prepared him for the ad he found surfing the net that afternoon. It was a website for a town called Stepton, that promoted itself as "the town that loves women--no matter their gender!" It promised a home for any TV who wished to experience life full-time as a woman, complete with a job.
Anthony had been unhappy and unfulfilled for many years, unable to fully express himself in his position as a stockbroker, masquerading as Antonia only on occasional weekends, fantasizing about living as and relating to other women as a woman himself. On impulse, he followed the links to Stepton's application page and filled out the form.
A week later, he got an e-mail, inviting him--or rather Antonia--to come for a weekend visit to Stepton. He quickly packed his bags, made arrangements, and was on his way to the small suburban town that Friday evening.
He stepped off the train about 9 PM and immediately marveled. There wasn't a male--except for himself--in sight. The station master, the cab drivers, the people waiting to board the train or meet passengers, were all female...or at least appeared to be so, he reminded himself. Many of them were likely to be, like Anthony, male under their feminine guises.
Anthony did notice that there appeared to be two basic types of women in the town. The first were almost preternaturally feminine, almost cliched in their girlishness: They wore the frilliest of dresses or skirts, in lace or flowered prints, flowing and rustling. They had on sexy heels, often sandals, and their makeup made them seem both virginal and appealing. The second type were equally as beautiful, but in a more forceful manner: Most wore leather, and those that didn't still affected a severe business-like look--straight, short skirts and fitted jackets. They, too, wore high heels, but only pumps or boots, and their makeup emphasized a commanding nature.
As he set down his suitcase, one of the more feminine creatures approached him. She minced up to him in her white sandals with five-inch heels, her petticoats rustling under her full skirt. She smiled at him, dazzlingly, and asked, "Anthony?"
He was startled for a moment that she knew who he was...then realized. "Oh, of course, I must stick out like a sore thumb around here. Yes, I'm Anthony...and you are?" he asked, extending his hand.\
She took it gently in her own soft clutch and he noticed--with a kind of longing--the graceful curve of her coral-polished nails. "I'm Marcia. I work as an assistant to Miss Carla Weathers in our recruitment program. She sent me to meet you...though I must say we were all hoping you'd travel as Antonia."
"I'm afraid I simply don't have the courage to do that," Anthony laughed.
"That will change," Marcia noted. She helped him into the rear seat of the limo and, as he climbed in, pressed a small gun-like device to the back of his neck. There was a quiet "whoosh" and as Anthony sank into the seat, his mind went completely blank.
"Wake up, Anthony," the calm voice commanded, and the fog lifted from Anthony's brain. As it did, he realized he was bound, his arms and legs tightly strapped to the beauty salon chair he sat in. Before him stood a vision in red leather.
"What's going on here?" he asked.
"We're simply following through on your contract, Antonia darling," the leather-clad woman responded. "But forgive my manners, I'm Carla Weathers--Mistress Carla to you."
"What contract--I didn't sign any contract," Anthony protested, "and certainly not one that would allow you to kidnap me!"
"Oh, but you did," Carla said. She produced a laptop computer and put a form on the screen--the very form Anthony had filled out on line. "This form includes the following words: I give the authorities of the town of Stepton full permission to do whatever is necessary to find me employment and housing in the town.
"What's necessary, my dear, is to make you one of our lovely feminized slaves--as all men who live in Stepton must be," Carla smiled. She turned to the staff, which Anthony realized must all be controlled crossdressers. "Let's get on with it, dearies!"
As the salon employees began their work, Carla explained. "You see, Stepton was founded some twenty years ago by a group of women with a background in lesbian activity and dominant feminism. We began by simply outwardly converting our husbands and boyfriends into simpering sissies by 'conventional' methods. Then I developed the original model of the implant that now resides at the base of your cortex. It provides us with a way to create a completely pliant and feminine personality in any male--and we have since recruited many like-minded women who have brought their husbands, boyfriends, and sons to Stepton to be transformed into our lesbian lovers and servants.
"But recently," she continued, "we realized that the growing number of younger women in our town required transformed slaves of their own--a need that simply converting the boys born in Stepton wouldn't fulfill--so we began our advertising campaign.
"And here you are!"
By this time, the "girls" working on Anthony were finished, and they swung his chair around so that he could see himself in the mirror. He was astounded--despite years of dressing, Anthony had no idea that he could ever be so beautiful. He was almost lost in the image and the prospect of living this way full time--until he recalled Carla's description of the feminized men of Stepton--"slaves and servants".
"Do you really think you can get away with this? I have friends in my old home town--they'll wonder what happened to me!" he declared.
"No, they won't," Carla replied. "Once we have you under our control, we'll simply have you arrange to have all your belongings shipped here--where we will destroy them, of course--and then have you contact your friends with your new address. In time, you will tell them of your new identity and desires...by which time you will be so completely the lovely and compliant Antonia, there will be nothing they can do to change things, anyway!"
She looked him right in the eye and said, "Lend me your
Instantly, all Anthony's attention was rivetted on Carla. "That is your trigger phrase. Whenever you hear it, you will immediately be placed in this receptive mode, to receive instructions and programming as to your life as Antonia in Stepton." She gestured to the attendants. "Release him--there's nothing he can do to stop us." They unstrapped him from the chair. "Stand." Without his willing it, Anthony rose to his feet.
"We've made some major advances in the implants in recent months, Antonia darling. You will be the first to experience what Stepton Implant V2.0 can accomplish," Carla said.
"Tits--35C," she announced. Anthony felt an odd swelling in his chest and realized that--astonishingly--his chest was expanding into a pair of lovely female breasts. Carla smiled at the shock on his face. "Oh yes, we recently discovered that certain superficial changes can be made to the human body when the proper electrical impulses are sent to certain brain centers.
"Waist--23." Anthony felt a crushing sensation as his waist shrunk to that dimension, pushing certain of his inner organs to new configurations. His eyes widened. "Oh, I know what you're afraid of," Carla said, smiling. "No--we can't completely eliminate any organ, nor would we wish to. Most of us--lesbians though we may be--have grown quite fond of the ability to manipulate a feminized cock!
"Hips--34." And, again, Anthony felt his body alter to match the description Carla supplied. He looked at himself in the mirror. Only his genitals told of his truly male identity...and, shamefully, his cock was at full attention.
"Dress her." With that command, Carla turned and walked from the room, leaving her assistants to the task of placing Anthony into the feminine finery that would eventually seal his fate as Antonia. Bra, panties, garter belt, nylons, a satin blouse and a black miniskirt made him look youthful and sexy. Carla returned just as they were placing the pumps with six-inch heels on his feet.
"Excellent," she proclaimed. "One last physical touch. Legs--heels off the floor." Anthony felt the muscles in his calves tighten and shorten. "Now, you're just like a little Barbie doll, Antonia darling--you can't wear anything except high heels, ever!"
Carla moved to a console by the wall and flipped a switch. "Your implant is now receiving the details of your feminine personality. Within six months, we will be using you, Antonia, as our representative to the world, bringing more unsuspecting TVs like yourself to our community!"
"And now, from Stepton, here is Antonia!"
Sally Jesse stepped aside as the elegantly dressed young woman came out from backstage. Her cocktail dress showed off her figure and her slim shapely legs. She moved with grace.
"Yes, folks, Antonia is really a man...but she has been living full time as a woman in Stepton for the past six months. She's here to explain how the town has accepted her and is ready to accept any crossdresser who is ready to live by its rules of complete femininity!"
In the wings, Carla smiled. Yes, Antonia was the perfect bait...soon, many more like her would volunteer to come to Stepton--and join the town of perfect male lesbian lovers!
More to come
Monday, July 14, 2008
So, today, after dropping son at work (conveniently near mall), I went back to Payless and bought them. This put me in a shopping mood, so I browsed three of the department stores for anything attractive...and didn't find anything there. Why is so much of the clothes designed for large women so dowdy?
But I recalled a couple of things I saw at my last visit to Burlington Coat Factory, so I went there. Sure enough, those white sandals were still there. I was a little shocked when I tried them on, though--certainly the highest heels I can ever remember wearing, higher even than the black Mary-Jane pumps I bought months ago. I can feel the strain in my calves when I put them on...but I know they are going to make my legs look fantastic!
Speaking of my legs, Burlington also had a blue pin-stripe suit dress...and, for the first time I can remember since I started dressing again, it had a skirt that didn't fall to mid-calf! It's about knee-length, maybe even shorter. I love it. It's an 18 (I usually buy a 20), but I think it will fit since the waist is elastic.
Both of the shoes are slightly smaller than I usually get, as well. Back in my salad days, I wore a size 10. Since getting dressed again, I've been wearing 11s. (I suspect I really need a 10-1/2, but those are almost impossible to find.) I tried on both of these shoes in both sizes, but--although a touch tight--the 10s just felt better. Maybe the tightness appeals to my submissive side?
I'll be dressing tomorrow, and I promise pics.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Janice looked out over the audience. "Please rise," she said.
Immediately, two young men got to their feet. Janice smiled. At every show, there were a handful of audience members who would fall into a light trance. Normally, she'd have to carefully guide them out of hypnosis along with her stage volunteers. This time, however, she intended to use their exceptional susceptibility to suggestion to her advantage. "Come forward, please."
Almost like sleepwalkers, the men fell into line and walked to the stage. Once they reached her, Janice took a few minutes to deepen their trances, while the audience watched, transfixed. Several of the women in the crowd seemed particularly intrigued with Janice's control over the men.
When she was certain the two volunteers were deeply entranced, Janice began to speak to them and ask them questions, questions that--in their mesmerized state--they could only answer truthfully. The first said his name was Charles. "Charles," Janice asked, "what was it that caused you to want to fall into hypnosis?"
"I was aroused," he replied. "I wanted the arousal to continue and grow stronger."
She got similar answers from the other, Winston. "What aroused you the most?" she asked again.
Almost as one they replied, "Seeing Arthur get dressed as Audrey." Janice smiled again.
Janice turned to her maid-assistant. "Audrey, come here." The transformed boy-girl minced over to his mistress's side. "You think Audrey is sexy?" she asked the newcomers.
"Yes," they replied.
"Would you like to become girls like Audrey?"
"Yes," they answered again.
Janice turned to the audience. "Would you like to see our volunteers become sexy girls, like Audrey?" The crowd roared with approval. She ordered each of them to strip to their undershorts, then had Audrey escort them behind a screen. They emerged wearing satin panties--black for Charles, red for Winston. Their hard-ons were clear bulges in their feminine coverings.
In the meantime, a new wardrobe had been rolled onto stage. Janice and Audrey began pulling out suitable attire, as the men stood passively awaiting new orders and suggestions.
Janice approached Charles, carrying a black bra. She placed around his chest and pulled the straps over his shoulders. "There, Charles, that's a good beginning," she said. "But, Charles, you're a girl now, aren't you? You want to be a girl, right?"
"I want to be a girl," he answered. The audience giggled and snickered.
"We can't call a girl 'Charles', can we?" Janice continued. "Your name is Charlotte."
"My name is Charlotte," he repeated.
"Very good--wait here." Janice turned to Winston, whom Audrey was fitting with a tight corset. "Are you a girl, too, Winston?"
"I'm a girl," he answered.
"Then your name is Winnie," Janice told him.
"My name is Winnie," he grunted, as Audrey tugged the laces tight on his corset.
Janice went back to Charlotte. "Charlotte, where are your boobs? A pretty girl like you must have boobs, tits, bazooms!" Janice looked around, then spotted a pair of objects on the shelf of the wardrobe. She held them up, a pair of C-cup breast forms. "Here they are!" She fitted them into her subject's waiting bra. "Now, those are your tits, Charlotte. When the nipples are tweaked, you feel it! When the boobs are squeezed, you feel it! And it makes you feel good--here!" Janice ordered, cupping the mesmerized man's genitals. He shuddered at the touch.
"They are my tits," Charlotte replied.
"Audrey, finish Charlotte up, please." Audrey took the now well-built Charlotte behind the screen and began to dress her.
Meanwhile, Janice smoothed knee-high stockings up Winnie's legs and placed a pair of blocky heeled pumps on her feet. Winnie stumbled a bit as she adjusted to the new angle of her feet and legs.
"Can't have that," Janice said. "Pretty girls don't fall off their high heels. Winnie, from now on, you are graceful and sexy in your heels. You mince with a cute little wiggle in your ass. In fact, without heels--in your bare feet, or in flats--you stumble and fall. You can't walk without high heels."
"I cannot walk without high heels," Winnie repeated.
"Audrey, I'm sending Winnie back." Janice waited a few moments for both of the new "girls" to complete their transformations. Then she said, "Now, when I count back from five to one, both of you will wake up and be the girls you said you want to be!
"Five--Charlotte, you love your big tits and want to feel them fondled.
"Four--Winnie, your long legs and heels make you feel sexy and adorable.
"Three--Charlotte, you will flaunt your boobs for all to see.
"Two--Winnie, hike your skirts so we can all see your luscious legs.
The screen was rolled away and there sat two luscious young women. Charlotte leaned against a table, her long fishnet-clad legs stretched out before her, her lush figure covered with a red satin suit that clung to her every curve and revealed the black bra under the jacket. Her face was expertly made up and her hair was a pert brunette pageboy. Winnie wore a tweed suit with a scandalously short skirt, allowing her long and sensuous legs to be shown off to full advantage. She posed on a prop staircase, one leg up, the other down.
Janice walked over to them. "Hello, girls, feeling good?" she asked.
Both smiled and nodded. Janice reached for Charlotte's tits, feeling for the artificial nipples and tweaking them playfully with her nails. "Oooh, that's nice," Charlotte purred, wiggling a bit in her seat.
Janice moved to Winnie. "Show us how you walk on those skyscraper legs of yours, Winnie, honey," she asked. Winnie obliged, sashaying the length of the stage, drawing wolf whistles from the audience. "Take off your shoes and rest, Winnie," Janice advised. Winnie obeyed, and immediately fell to her knees as she attempted to go back to her place. "Whoa--better put those heels back on, babe!" Janice laughed, and the crowd roared in approval.
Janice put them through their paces, having them each perform such girlish tasks as checking their makeup and smoothing their stockings. After a bit, she asked, "Did Charlotte and Winnie come with anyone tonight?"
Two women rose from their seats. "Excellent." She turned back to her transformed subjects. "Lights dim, Charlotte and Winnie," she ordered, and they fell back into trance. "The women you came with are your mistresses, just as I am Audrey's. You will obey them as you do me. The hypnotic triggers I use with you will work equally well for them." She produced two pieces of paper and slipped them into the boy-girls' pockets. "There are your trigger phrases. You will give them to your mistresses when you return to your seats.
"Curtain up, Winnie and Charlotte," Janice ordered, and they arose from their trances. "Go back to your mistresses, girls, and thank you." She turned to the audience as the two once-men minced and wiggled back to their seats. "Ladies and gentlemen, a big hand for Winnie and Charlotte!"
The audience exploded into applause--and Charlotte and Winnie exploded into their panties!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Well, it's not hard to figure this one out. A beautiful singer who favors slightly kinky outfits on stage? And whose biggest hit is "I Feel Like a Woman"? Shania represents an image we all wish we could attain.
Monday, July 7, 2008
"Ladies and gentlemen--the mesmerizing Janice, mistress of
With that announcement, Janice swept onto the stage, clad--for the moment--in a severe but attractive business suit.
"Thank you, friends, thank you," she acknowledged the applause. "Tonight, I'll be giving you a new thrill. I'm sure you've all seen some sort of hypnotist act before, but I can assure you, you've never seen one like this. Because my act is not just about hypnosis, it's about control--control of the mind to such an extent that I can create an entirely new personality in my subjects, a personality that is completely subservient to my will, even when the subject is awakened from trance."
She looked out at the audience. "I see some of you are skeptical. Very well. Let me begin by introducing my assistant, Arthur." A spotlight fell on the stage right entrance and Arthur, clad in a tuxedo, entered and bowed. "Now, as you might guess, I have often hypnotized Arthur and he is, indeed, my most loyal slave. Isn't that right, Arthur?"
"Yes, mistress," he replied.
"Yet even Arthur is unaware of the alternate personality I have implanted within him. Unaware, that is, until tonight." She turned to him and said, "Arthur, prepare to be changed." In response to that trigger phrase, Arthur began to strip out of his tuxedo, revealing to everyone that beneath his outer attire, he was completely dressed in feminine undies--panties, bra, garter belt, fishnet stockings. The audience snickered. Arthur ignored them. When he had stripped to just his delicates, he stood quietly, awaiting the next command.
Janice had a wardrobe rolled onto the stage. "Excellent, Arthur. Now, I'm going to go backstage and change into something more appropriate for the remainder of the show. While I'm gone, Audrey, curtain up!" And she strode off to the left side wing.
Continuing to pay no attention to the amusement of the audience, Arthur took on a decidedly feminine attitude, as he reached into the portable closet and brought out his new costume, putting it on as if it were the most natural thing in the world. When he was done, the audience began to fully realize what was in store for them. Gone completely was the masculine Arthur...in his place stood Missy Audrey, the maid and assistant to her mesmerizing mistress.
He wore a maid's dress in shiny latex, with white lace at the cuffs and collar; matching white lace gloves, a lacy apron, and a black choker with lace edging. Finished dressing, he sat at the vanity attached to the wardrobe and applied his makeup expertly, finishing with a wig of golden curls that fell to his ersatz breasts. The final touch was a pair of black patent-leather pumps with five-inch heels.
His transformation completed, he stood to await further instructions. A voice
--Janice's voice--came over the speakers of the lounge: "Stage lights dim, Audrey." And the audience watched in awe as the lovely maid's eyes drifted closed, her body relaxed and she returned to full trance.
Janice continued to control the act from off stage, watching on a closed-circuit monitor as she changed clothes. "Are there any female volunteers from the audience who would like to experience Audrey's talents for service?" she asked. Several hands went up, some more hesitant than others. Janice chose one of those more reluctant ladies, a tall dark-haired woman in her 50s, who was still attractive. "Yes, madam, in the red dress, please come up. What's your name?"
Smiling nervously, the woman rose and stepped onto the stage, answering, "Barbara." Audrey remained oblivious to the new member of the act.
"To start," Janice advised her volunteer, "I'd like you to demonstrate that Audrey is, indeed, completely entranced...but also quite involved, shall we say? Go over to her and reach under her skirt and touch her panties." Still not quite sure, the woman did as asked, and gasped as she found the boy-girl's hard-on. But she didn't let go, and she looked up and smiled at the audience.
"Yes, she's quite enthusiastic about all this, isn't she?" Janice asked, laughing. "Audrey, tits and clit," she commanded. "Now, Barbara, I want you to let go of Audrey's little love handle, and reach into her dress and begin to fondle and play with her breasts and nipples." Barbara complied, still a little embarrassed. "That's it."
After a few moments, it was clear that Audrey was become more aroused. Her body shook, and she moaned with pleasure. "Check out her panties, please, Barbara," Janice requested. Barbara did so and the look on her face told the story. "On the verge of ultimate pleasure?" Janice asked. "Very good. Now stop."
Barbara complied, but it was clear that Audrey was still on the brink and would remain there. At that moment, the house lights went out, the stage went momentarily dark, until two spotlights illuminated Audrey and the left side of the stage, where Janice had exited.
Now, she stepped into that light, dressed in a form-fitting gown with a slit all the way to her hip, her hair piled on her head with a pair of wispy tendrils at her cheeks. She wore black platform sandals. She looked directly at Audrey and said, plainly and without emphasis, "Come to me."
Audrey arose from her trance and began to walk across the stage to her mistress; simultaneously, the audience knew that something else was happening as well. The maid continued to shudder and shake as she minced in her heels to her mistress's side. That single command had broken the dam holding in Audrey's raging passions, and she filled her delicate panties with come...some of which seeped just a little down her nyloned leg.
The audience roared with approval.
Janice bowed. "Now, do I have any male volunteers?"
More to come
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Nobody--except possibly Mary Tyler Moore--made suburban housewife look sexier than Liz Montgomery in Bewitched. How many of us wished she would wrinkle her nose at us and change us into the girls we wanted to be?
[BTW--if you're ever at a sci-fi or comics convention where actor Bill Mumy is a guest, ask him about getting to kiss Montgomery as a kid actor.]
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Chances for full dressing are probably non-existent until late August, when I may also do some serious shopping again, as well.
"Janice, you have to understand--there must be a dozen stage hypnotist acts making the rounds in Vegas, Reno and Atlantic City these days. Yours just doesn't stand out."
Janice Callahan looked at her agent in dismay. "Well, what can I do, Cynthia? I've tried doing it as comedy, as magic show, even tried it with a hint of sex--and the bookings still aren't coming."
Cynthia frowned...then brightened. "Didn't you tell me you first experimented with hypnosis in college? With a boyfriend who got off on being put in a trance and made to do whatever you wanted?"
Janice nodded. "What has that got to do with--?" she started to ask.
"Think he'd be willing to help you?"
Janice smiled at the thought of seeing Arthur again. While he was entranced, he'd been the finest lover she'd ever known...and there was that last little bit of fun she'd always wanted to try with him, but never got the opportunity. "If he's still as absolutely gaga about being hypnotized as he was a few years ago, he'd jump at the chance," she said.
"Do you know how to get in touch with him?"
"OK, Arthur, the first thing we have to do is determine if all the old triggers I gave you are still operating," Janice told him.
Arthur had, indeed, jumped at the idea of once again becoming Janice's willing sexual hypnotic subject. He sat comfortably on the couch in her apartment, while Cynthia observed from a chair in the corner. Arthur's interest in the whole scenario had not been lessened by the outfit Janice had chosen for their first session in over two years.
She wore a black spandex bodysuit, with a deep V neckline, held together by silver clasps. The stretch fabric clung to her every curve, while the heels of the matching black boots caused her to tower over him by six inches. He had gasped when he first saw her, already nearly entranced.
Janice looked him squarely in the eyes now and said, "Jump for me, Arthur."
His eyes closed and he replied, in a soft, submissive tone, "How high, Janice?"
Cynthia was astonished. She had watched her friend and client hypnotize many a subject in her stage shows, but she'd never seen anyone respond to a trigger phrase so readily before. Obviously, Arthur was a very good subject.
Now Janice began to put him through the paces of all the old humiliating, dominating tricks she'd taught him back in college. Making him appear to be completely awake, she ordered him to bring his cock to full erection. He placed his hand on his crotch and began to rub himself through the fabric of his trousers. In a very short time, there was a large and obvious bulge at his crotch.
Janice smiled and said, "Very good, Arthur. Now, where does a slave belong?"
Without hesitating, Arthur dropped to the floor, and began kissing and licking the black patent leather of Janice's boots. Later, he was quick to drape himself over her lap for a powerful and painful spanking...during which he was hypnotically prevented from flinching or crying.
Cynthia was impressed...but still doubtful. "It's amazing the control you have over him, Janice," she admitted. "And it's a certainly a far cry from the chickens and dogs and strippers of the other stage hypnotist acts. I could easily see Arthur here as the centerpiece of your show...with volunteers from the audience coming up later to be put under and dominated--"
"But..." Janice prompted.
"But it still doesn't seem like enough," Cynthia continued. "I realize you probably don't want to get into really heavy nakedness or anything--some lounges and clubs would object--but isn't there something, well, more?"
Janice considered. Maybe this was the right time. "There's one other thing. I've never actually done it with Arthur, though I prepared him for it before we broke up."
"I don't want to say too much," she hesitated. "Tell you what--give me an hour to work it out with him, and then come back. I promise you'll be surprised."
Cynthia knocked on the door...and it was answered by an attractive brunette with hair that fell over her shoulders. Her lips were full and pouty. She wore a silver-white jacket dress with a hem that stopped eight inches above her dark-nyloned knees. Her hands were gloved in a matching fabric and she wore sling-back pumps in silver with a three-inch heel.
Janice's voice came from behind the door, with a commanding tone. "Introduce yourself and welcome our guest."
"I am Missy Audrey," the sexy vision proclaimed. "Please come in, Miss Cynthia."
The voice was breathy and feminine, with a husky tone to it. The light dawned on Cynthia--this lovely creature was Arthur!
Cynthia turned to her face her friend and client. "How...What...?" She wasn't sure what questions to even ask.
Janice put her finger to her lips. Then she turned to the silver-clad boy-girl and said, "Stage lights dim, Audrey." The transformed Arthur stood for a moment, then her head dropped and her eyes closed.
"She's back in trance," Janice explained. "She won't hear any of this until I bring her back around--either as Arthur or Audrey.
"This was something I'd always wanted to try with Arthur...a complete reconfiguration of his personality as a submissive female," Janice continued. "Underneath it all, he still knows he's male. In fact, all his sexual reactions to his appearance and his humiliation are completely male--if you peeked under that skirt, you'd find a massive erection filling his satin panties right now. But he can't react outwardly as anything except a simpering girl."
Cynthia smiled. "This has great possibilities. Suppose we start by having you introduce Arthur, put him under, then bring out 'Audrey'...and dress her, and demonstrate her feminine submissiveness, created by your hypnotic spell." Janice nodded. That was precisely her plan for the act. "Then we break for intermission and Audrey acts as your assistant for the rest of the show--suitably garbed, of course. And we get volunteers from the audience to undergo a similar transformation."
"Exactly," Janice agreed. "Now, we need a name for the new act."
"Give me time to think," Cynthia replied. "In the meantime, I have to admit the thought of that sexy little thing over there has me very horny. Can you do something about that?"
"Of course," Janice answered. "Audrey, curtain up!" Immediately, Audrey returned to consciousness. Janice indicated that Cynthia should sit on the couch. "Audrey, Miss Cynthia requires your assistance. Serve her as you would me."
Audrey approached Cynthia and knelt before her. She began kissing and caressing the agent's legs, working her way up beneath the folds of Cynthia's full skirt. In time, she was completely buried beneath the skirt, her lips and tongue working on Cynthia's privates.
"I think I have the name for the--uhh--act," Cynthia grunted. "It's--my god, she's good--perfect! We'll call it Domi-nosis!"
More to come