Magic Transformation

PART THREE: LEATHER AND LESBIANS

For the next week, I endured the snickers of my office mates about my newly frosted hair and trimmed eyebrows. I was glad they couldn't detect one other reminder of my weekend as Carol--Mistress Samantha had used her magical control over me to force me to wear panties, garter belt and stockings under my male attire. Every morning I tried to fight the mystic urge, but every morning I failed. Moving of their own volition, seemingly, my hands would place the treasured feminine underthings on my body.

The weekend after my transformation to Carol Mistress Samantha did not command my presence at her apartment. Perhaps she wanted to heighten my sense of anticipation for the next time I would be transformed.

However, she did order me to spend the two days in my own place, wearing nothing but lingerie and high heels, and practicing with makeup. She also commanded me to bring home a large selection of women fashion magazines and to study the looks in them in order to gain a better knowledge of modern fashion. By the end of the weekend, I was as much an expert on fashion as any man outside the garment trade could be.

By the second week after my initial transformation, the snickers and stares from my fellow workers had subsided, though visitors to the office were sometimes momentarily surprised to see my slightly feminine appearance. I thought perhaps I would be able to last this all out until my hair and eyebrows grew back out. Alas, Mistress Samantha had no intention of making it that easy.

On Wednesday of that second week, I was in the midst of a meeting with my staff when my mistress's latest trick struck.

"Okay, folks, the March issue looked good," I told them, "but April can still look better--" I stopped short. A familiar tingle was beginning in my chest and my ass. Oh God, I thought, Mistress Samantha has reactivated the spell! I'm going to transform into Carol right here! I had to get out of the meeting before the glow began to appear.

I feigned illness and excused myself, rushing to my office and closing the door. Just in time, too--because the telltale glow in the womanly shape was beginning. Moments later, I looked in the mirror on the inside of my office door and saw Carol staring back. The phone rang--I knew who it had to be.

"Hello, Carol, dear," the mistress said. "How do you like my little surprise?"

"Mistress, how--how," I stammered, "how am I going to get out of here? I'm dressed like a man now!"

"Well, darling," she cooed, "I'm sure you'll think of something." And she hung up.

I was in a quandary. How could Carol--a woman--walk out of Carl's office, wearing his suit? I'd look ridiculous. Then I had an idea.

Earlier that week, at Mistress Samantha's order, I had purchased some new shoes and other accessories to add to Carol's wardrobe. They were still in my desk drawer. If I put them on, I could perhaps make this man's business suit look feminine enough to pass anything but a close inspection. And if I waited until late enough in the day, no one would see me leave my office.

I pulled off my shoes and socks--being too big now they were practically falling off anyway--and stepped into the gray kid pumps with five-inch heels. Instantly, I felt more like Carol. I took off my tie and opened the front of my shirt by a few buttons. Taking out another of the packages I had squirreled away in my desk, I put on earrings, a matching necklace, and pinned a colorful satin scarf to my shoulder.

Next, I took out the makeup kit Mistress Samantha commanded me to keep in the office, and made up my face. The look I had when completed was somewhat androgynous but I was reasonably certain I'd pass.

At 6:30 that evening, sure that the rest of the staff had left, I finally ventured out of my office. Fortunately, I was right--no one was there. I quickly got to the elevator and headed for the lobby. I made it to the subway--still a little crowded with late-leaving commuters--without incident.

This was seemingly the ultimate humiliation Mistress Samantha could play upon me. I guessed wrong--the coming weekend would be even worse.

On Friday morning, I received a call from Mistress Samantha, commanding my presence that evening at 7:00. She ordered me to come straight from the office--I would need no "accessories," everything required for our time together would be at her apartment.

I arrived as ordered. Mistress Samantha met me at the door, dressed casually. The moment I stepped through the door, she uttered the mystic command--and by the time I walked into the bedroom, I was Carol once again.

"Get out of those male clothes, Carol," she told me. "I have a very interesting outfit for you to wear this evening."

"Interesting" was a mild word for the clothes I was soon dressed in. The white patent-leather corset had been laced to the 19-inch measurement I had grown used to. Attached to its six garters were white lace stockings, giving my legs a youthful, gamine--yet sexy--appearance. That look was highlighted by the addition of a pair of lace-trimmed white socks. My white satin panties were pulled over my garters, making it that much easier for Mistress Samantha--or anyone else--to gain access to my privates. The final touch below the waist was a pair of white patent-leather shoes. When I saw them, I could not believe I was meant to walk in them.

"These are called 'ballet shoes,'" Mistress Samantha explained as she buckled the things to my feet. "As you can see, the height of the heels--about eight inches--and the extreme curve of the arch force you to walk with almost all your weight on your toes, just like a ballerina!" She secured the buckles with tiny padlocks. "Stand up and let me see how you walk in them--now!"

Once again, seemingly without my mind having any control over my body, I stood and minced in the painfully sexy shoes. I looked into the full-length mirror on the Mistress's wall and saw how the strange footwear further emphasized my feminine gait, forcing my ass to wiggle provocatively and my boobs to jiggle even more than usual.

"Beautiful! Carol, you're certain to be the hit of the party!" Mistress Samantha exclaimed.

Party?! I was going to a party like this?

"All right, Carol, now sit at the vanity," she instructed. "I want to be sure your makeup is perfect for the evening." Thirty minutes later, I stared at my reflection in the vanity mirror. The mistress had indeed done a masterful job with my face. My eyes looked large and bright, accented with greenish eyeshadow and three coats of mascara. My cheeks glowed with the blush of rouge, aided by the natural blush of my embarrassment at my growing predicament. My lips were as red as cherries, perfectly shaped into a Cupid's bow pout. But my face was not the end of my makeup job that night.

Mistress Samantha moved down to my breasts, dusting them with powder until they were nearly as white as my corset. Next, she took the cherry-red lipstick she used on my lips and carefully colored my erect nipples. The final effect was almost unbearably erotic--with the pure white of my clothing, I looked like a virgin in heat!

Then it dawned on me. If Mistress Samantha has gone to the trouble of making up my breasts--then I'm not going to be wearing anything over them! She obviously saw the light go on in my eyes. "Yes, Carol, darling. With but a few exceptions, this is your outfit for the evening," she said, smiling evilly. "And I must say you look scrumptious. Perhaps next time, I'll pierce your nipples and hang a chain from them--that should bring some attention at the office and the gym!"

My cheeks colored again. Would she really consider so permanent a change in my male appearance? So much had changed in our relationship since Mistress Samantha had discovered the transformation spell that I couldn't be sure.

Now came the final accessories: a white patent-leather collar that the mistress padlocked to my throat and a silvery pair of handcuffs that she locked me into, with my arms behind my back. She produced a chain lead and clipped it to the collar, locking the other end onto a heavy chair. "Just so you don't go anywhere while I change into my party clothes," she laughed. As if I would go anywhere, locked into this semblance of submissive femininity!

A few moments later, Mistress Samantha emerged, dressed to kill. She wore a tight-fitting floor-length black satin gown, with a slit up the left side to her hip, revealing her garters and stocking top. It had a halter neckline, the back bare nearly to her ass, making it obvious that the garter belt and sheer black stockings were her only underwear. Her feet were clad in black patent-leather sandals with 6-inch heels, showing off her red-painted toenails (nails that I had personally polished only the previous night). A black patent-leather collar, matching my own white one, showed at her neck--and a riding crop dangled from her left wrist.

She picked up the end of my lead, smirking. "Come along, pet--or we'll be late," she cooed, leading me through the door and to her car. I struggled to get in, hampered as I was by the bonds on my wrists and the "ballet shoes" on my feet. Once I was inside, any hopes I had for slumping in my seat in order to be less noticeable instantly disappeared, as Mistress Samantha firmly buckled me into the seat harness, making any attempt at hiding nearly impossible.

Fortunately, the trip to the party was uneventful. The same cannot be said for our arrival. As Mistress Samantha pulled into the parking lot, I instantly recognized the name on the front of the establishment where the party was being held--Lesbos! A notorious hangout for the lesbian D/S set, I had often fantasized about being brought here under circumstances not unlike the situation I found myself in tonight. But those were only fantasies--now I was living them, and I wasn't sure I wanted to!

The mistress unbuckled my seat belt and aided me in getting out of the car. Then she took my lead in her hand and escorted me to the door of the club. "This is a very special night at Lesbos," she explained as we waited for her secret knock to be answered. "No dominant is allowed in without a slave in tow. You'll have lots of company."

The "bouncer" was Evelyn, Mistress Samantha's friend from the beauty parlor where I had had my first transformation completed. Kneeling beside her was Christy, her TV assistant from the salon. The feminized male was nearly naked, his slender but masculine body in clear view. Still, Christy looked suitably feminine--her hair was set in a softly waved pageboy, her face was made up with Evelyn's usual cosmetic skill and, like me, her breasts had been powdered and rouged to emphasize their femininity. She wore a garter belt and fishnet stockings, with her feet locked into black pumps with a T-strap and six-inch heels.

"Is this Carol, Sam?" Evelyn asked. "What a wonderful job you've done with her!" I blushed (all over) at Evelyn's enthusiastic reaction to my submissive predicament. "C'mon in, the party's just getting started."

She stepped aside and let us enter the semi-darkened club. In many ways, it was a submissive cross-dresser's wet dream--a room filled with beautiful dominant lesbians, many of whom--like Carol and Evelyn--who delighted in transforming submissive men into the sweet feminine objects of their lust. Obviously, I was in for a night to remember!

To be continued

[Don't forget to pick the man you'd love to see feminized (details here)!]

Maggie's Mirror

The first of two done for another friend on Flickr:

[Don't forget to pick the man you'd love to see feminized (details here)!]

Magic Transformation

PART TWO: CAROL GOES SHOPPING

As we strode out of the beauty salon (well, Mistress Samantha strode, I rather minced), I sensed male heads turning all around us. I couldn't be sure if they were looking at me, Mistress Samantha or both of us. The mistress merely smiled at the attention and whispered to me, "Smile, Carol dear, act as if you appreciate the lustful looks you're getting--now!"

Once again, my body betrayed my psyche, as Mistress Samantha's magic spell forced me to smile in recognition of the male attention we received. Even more, I found myself wiggling my ass as well. If Mistress Samantha wanted to turn me into a cock-tease in my feminine form, she was succeeding.

She took me by the arm and led me into one of the restaurants in the mall. The hostess, though she greeted us warmly, was obviously envious of our sexy appearance. She primly led us to a table in the back. A short time later, our waiter, a cute college-aged kid, took our drink orders. He smiled broadly at both of us, but seemed to pay special attention to me. Still under the influence of Mistress Samantha's last command, I hiked up my already short denim skirt, revealing the white skin and garters above my stocking tops and swung sideways in my seat, so that my long legs were completely visible to him, my feet tucked demurely under my chair.

When he returned with our drinks--scotch and soda for the mistress, Perrier for me--his eyes nearly popped out of his head. Our little flirtation continued all the way through lunch. I was deeply afraid that Mistress Samantha would order me to take the relationship a few steps further but, fortunately, she merely paid the check when the waiter brought it and we sashayed out of the restaurant.

Mistress Samantha steered me into the biggest department store in the mall and headed straight for the juniors department. I stood there, surrounded by the kickiest, hippest clothing in the place--flirty miniskirts, off-the-shoulder blouses, party dresses in taffeta with flounces, short skirts and strapless bodices. The closeness of so much feminine apparel--the center of so many of my fantasies--put my cock on the rise again.

The mistress pulled three items off the rack: a bright red business suit in silk, with a boxy jacket and short skirt; a spandex exercise outfit intended to cling to my every spell-created curve; and a black-and-white party dress, with a ruffled miniskirt over petticoats and a strapless bodice. We took all three into a dressing room.

Mistress Samantha instructed me to strip down to my lingerie while she went to gather up the proper accessories. She returned a few moments later, arms laden with lingerie, jewelry, shoes and the like.

"Let's try the exercise outfit, first, Carol," she said. I took off all my lingerie except the panties as she ordered. Mistress Samantha handed me an exercise bra which I fumblingly got on. Then came the exercise outfit itself: a leotard with deep cleavage and high-cut leg openings, spandex tights, and aerobics shoes--all in bright pink. The mistress then helped me get into the matching leg warmers and sweat band. I turned to the mirror.

Once again, the tall coltish girl I had become stared back at me--now ready for a session at the health club. Mistress Samantha poked me in the side. "Still a little chubby, there, Carol. Looks like we'll make good use of this outfit," she chuckled.

As I stripped off the spandex, Mistress Samantha sorted through the accessories to find the proper lingerie for my next try-on, the business suit. Once again, I left the panties on and started to rehook my original bra, but she stopped me. "No, Carol, I have a different set of lingerie for this outfit. Take off those panties and bra."

I hesitated. We were in the dressing room of the women's department in a major department store. Despite my outward appearance I was still a man, with a man's "equipment" at my crotch. What if someone should walk in unexpectedly? The excitement and humiliation (and I wasn't sure which had the greater effect) had caused my cock to become engorged again.

"Carol," Mistress Samantha demanded, "What are you waiting for? Get those panties off--now!"

The spell had the effect I had come to know so well in such a few short hours. Almost of their own volition, my hands fairly ripped the white satin tap panties off my hips. To replace them, Mistress Samantha handed me a similar pair in black, topped by a matching black camisole trimmed with lace at the bodice. Once they were in place, the mistress handed me the skirt and jacket of the bright red silk suit.

I was startled again, but knew enough not to hesitate this time. Still, I had to ask. "Mistress, shouldn't I be wearing a blouse and slip with this?"

"A business woman might," she replied. "But you're just pretending, aren't you? You're just a coltish young girl who likes to dress up in fine things and show off. Well, you're going to show off your boobs and your panties if I want you to--and I do!"

Once the skirt was on, Mistress Samantha aided me in putting on the black sheer stockings she had chosen to go with the suit, as well as the red patent-leather pumps with the six-inch heels. Onto my ears she clipped bold button earrings in gold, followed by a matching choker-style necklace and a heavy gold bracelet. She knelt for a moment at my feet and hooked a another heavy gold chain around my ankle. Standing, she posed me before the mirror.

"Wonderful," she exclaimed. "Later, we'll have to get your ears pierced, Carol. But the choker is great--it looks almost like a collar, doesn't it? And the bracelets on your arm and ankle--they could be slave bracelets, couldn't they, Carol dear?" As she made these comments, Mistress Samantha brushed her hand over the front of my skirt, feeling my cock rise.

Yes! I wanted the jewelry to be just what she described--emblems of my transformed enslavement to Mistress Samantha. How well she knew me!

The girl in the mirror now looked more sophisticated, yet just as sexy as she did in the exercise outfit. The deep cut opening of the red jacket showed the rounded tops of my boobs above a hint of the black lace on my chemise. The higher heels and the sleek black stockings made my legs look longer and more enticing.

"Lean over and touch your knees, Carol," Mistress Samantha suggested. I did so--and my breasts nearly popped out of the jacket. "Stay there," she commanded, "I want you to see just how sexy you look like this." She reached under my skirt from behind me, and massaged my ass. Spreading my cheeks, she inserted something (I couldn't tell what) into my asshole.

A moment later, I knew exactly what the mistress had thrust into my rear, as the vibrating of the dildo sent shivers through my whole body. Now Mistress Samantha stood up and reached into the front of my jacket, taking my boobs into her hands, playing with the nipples, arousing me even further. As I felt certain I would come, right there in the dressing room--and even wished for it, desperately--she stopped her foreplay and turned off the dildo's motor with her remote control.

"I just wanted you to realize how much control I have over you, dear," she whispered, smiling. "We'll leave my little toy inside you for now, while you try on the last of your new clothes."

Moments later, I was wearing that kicky little party dress. Beneath it, Mistress Samantha had laced me into a crushingly tight corset that took five inches off my waistline--giving me about a 36-19-36 figure. The petticoats off the dress teased my thighs, while my legs, still in the sheer black stockings but now perched on six-inch-heeled black pumps were revealed almost to my garters. My boobs again threatened to spill out of the strapless top. A large black velvet bow was pinned to my hair, sparkling rhinestones hung from my ears, with a matching choker necklace around my neck. The gold "slave" bracelets remained on my wrist and ankle.

"That dress was made for dancing, Carol," Mistress Samantha observed. "Dance for me--now!" At once, my body, forced to obey a will other than my own by the mistress's magic, began to move sensuously to a beat it alone heard. As my movements became more erotic, Mistress Samantha turned on the dildo again, so that the vibrating pleasure in my ass added to my excitement. The more I moved, the more excited I became!

I turned toward her, my need for release clear in my begging eyes. "Very well, Carol, you may come," she said, pausing for effect, "now!"

We returned to Mistress Samantha's apartment and put all my new clothes into the closet she kept there for me. The rest of the weekend was spent in exploring new ways for me to experience my transformed body.

Monday morning came all too soon. "Well, Carol, it's time to return to being Carl," Mistress Samantha told me. She instructed me to stand once again in the center of the pentagram. She donned her black robe and read again from the book.

Once again I could feel the tingling all over my body, once again a glow formed around me, this time taking the shape of my masculine self. Moments later, I looked down at myself and I could see I was Carl again.

But Carl with a difference--my nails were still shaped and painted red in a feminine style. I turned to the mirror--my hair was still frosted gold and my eyebrows were still trimmed into a feminine arch!

"Mistress," I cried, "I can't go back to work looking like this."

"I'm afraid you've no choice, Carl," she replied. "Didn't I tell you? The spell reversal doesn't affect anything done to you physically while you were transformed. You're stuck with the frosted hair and arched eyebrows until they grow out--if I ever let you do that.

"Oh, and a few other things the spell reversal didn't do. The submissive command spell is still active, and I can recreate Carol anytime I want with a simple two-word incantation," she gloated. I looked at her in disbelief. "Yes, Carl," she nodded, "I can make you do anything I want--and become Carol anytime I want her.

"So, before you leave for work, on your knees and satisfy me--now!"

To be continued


[Don't forget to pick the man you'd love to see feminized (details here)!]

Magic Transformation

[Another of the lost stories...the art is also lost, I'm afraid, so no illustrations on this one.]

[Update: a reader found that lost art, so I've put it in!]

PART ONE: THE SPELL BEGINS

As most submissives know, finding the right dominant woman can be a real challenge--and it becomes even harder when your "interests" include cross-dressing. It had always seemed to me that most of the dominants I met didn't really understand the submissive transvestite's need for cross-dressing as humiliation. Perhaps their own beliefs in female superiority just didn't allow them to see how dressing as a woman could be humiliating.

At any rate, I was fairly certain I had found my ultimate mistress in Samantha. Tall, with long dark hair and a model's face and figure, Mistress Samantha and I had met at a party about two months ago. At the time, I didn't know she was a dominant--we had simply found a mutual interest in the study of ancient religions and ceremonies.

But that interest had led Mistress Samantha into a particular variation of Goddess worship--one in which all women are aspects of the Goddess and, as such, deserve worship by men. When she proposed that relationship to me on our third or fourth date, I readily agreed. The following week, I told her about my own needs for cross-dressing (and simple bondage at times) as a form of humiliation and submission.

"Hmmm," she mused, "that sounds like it could be quite interesting, Carl. Let me do some research and I may have a way for us to have some real 'fun' with that.

"In the meantime," she ordered, "on your knees and worship me in the way I enjoy!"

That was a month ago. And though I often asked my Mistress how her research was progressing, she always laughed it off--saying she was still searching for the right books to make her little idea work.

Then, this afternoon, Mistress Samantha called me at work and commanded me to attend her that evening. It was a Friday and I had the weekend to look forward to--spending it in servitude to Mistress Samantha would be heaven.

So, here I was, at the door to Mistress Samantha's penthouse apartment--precisely at 7:00 pm, as she ordered. I rang the bell, and she answered the door. She was dressed in what I had come to think of as her domination costume--a tight-fitting black leather dress that revealed her trim figure superbly, with a hem that stopped five inches above her knees, revealing her splendid long legs, clad in sheer black stockings and perched on black patent-leather pumps with six-inch heels. Tonight, however, a new article had been added to the outfit--over all the rest she wore an open, flowing robe of black satin with arcane symbols on the back and the sleeves.

"Come in, Carl," she cooed. "Everything's ready. Come into the bedroom."

In the bedroom, she had moved the bed against one wall to make room for a kind of brazier, in which was burning a pungent incense of some sort. On the bed lay a range of feminine clothing--lingerie, dresses, blouses and skirts, as well as several pairs of high heels standing on the floor. I looked at Mistress Samantha with obvious wonder on my face.

"I've completed my research," she told me. "Since the dawn of time, the sisters of the priesthood of the Goddess have practiced the casting of spells. Many of those enchantments involve transformations. I have studied the ancient arts until I learned such a spell."

"Transformation?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I can not only make you look like a woman by putting on these clothes--but by mystically changing the way you look in reality," she replied.

"But, Mistress, I don't want to be a woman," I protested, "only to look like one."

"I know that, Carl," she answered. "I said I could change the way you look, not what you actually are. Physically and mentally you will remain male--only your outer appearance will change."

"The spell can be reversed?" I asked. (Assuming it actually works, I thought to myself. Magic?)

"Of course," she replied. "Now, come, the spell requires that you be dressed in the clothes of the person you wish to become. I'll help you get into these things."

First, Mistress Samantha aided me in putting on the lacy white demi-bra. A C-cup, it hung loosely on my flat chest. Next came a matching garter belt; it was tight around my still male-thick waist. That was followed by a pair of sheer stockings, stretched over-tight to attach to the clips of the garter belt. After that she helped me put on a pair of shiny white tap pants with lace around the leg openings. Despite their somewhat tight fit, they felt extremely sensuous as they slithered over my nylon-clad legs and hips. The final touch was to squeeze a pair of white satin pumps with five-inch heels onto my feet.

"Mistress, what about the outer clothes?" I asked.

"Unnecessary for the spell to operate," Mistress Samantha said. "Besides, I want to see what you'll look like when it's done." She turned and picked up a roll of cloth, spreading it out on the floor. On the cloth was painted a pentagram, the inverted star surrounded by a circle and mystic symbols familiar from media presentations of witch's ceremonies.

"Stand in the center of the design, Carl, dear," Mistress Samantha directed. "The pentagram will prevent the magic of the enchantment from escaping and affecting me or anyone else within range." I did as she directed.

She went to the desk and opened a large, leather-bound book to a previously marked page. Throwing some more incense on the brazier, which sent up a new pall of smoke, she began to read from the book.

I didn't understand the words--but I recognized the sound of the language, or thought I did. It was vaguely Latin in construction, but with pronunciations that sounded Gaelic or Welsh at times, and Hebrew or Arabic at others. As she weaved the spell, I noticed a tingling beginning in my nipples and my buttocks, a feeling that spread to my hands, my feet, in time to my entire body.

Mistress Samantha's chanting continued, taking on a rhythmic tone. Now a glow began to form about my body, golden in color and shimmering. It seemed almost alive. I noticed that it was taking on a shape different from my own--wider at the chest and the hips and seeming to disappear within my body at the waist. As the chanting continued the glow became brighter, so bright that I had to close my eyes against the glare.

Moments later, Mistress Samantha stopped speaking and I heard her shut the book. Simultaneously, the glow went away. I opened my eyes.

"No--close your eyes again!" my mistress commanded. "I want you to see the result all at once."

She took me by the shoulders and turned me to the left. "Now, open your eyes."

I was facing a full-length mirror on the wall of the bedroom. The figure looking back at me from the reflection was recognizably me--but changed. First of all, it appeared to be a woman. She was some five feet, eight inches tall (I had been 5-10). Her breasts filled the cups of the 36C bra she wore, with some of the flesh peeking over the top provocatively. Her waist was narrower than any man's, her hips wide and womanly. Her legs were as attractive as Mistress Samantha's--if I could be so bold as to make the comparison. I judged her, surprisingly, to weigh about as much as I had before the spell--some 130 pounds or so.

The face was still definitely my own, but somewhat softer in appearance, with larger eyes and fuller lips. The hair was a little longer, giving the look of an uncontrolled bob.

I turned to Mistress Samantha. "What about my, uh--" I hesitated, touching my crotch.

"They are still there, as you can feel," she replied, "and still functional. The spell has changed nothing internally--only the outward appearance."

"Then why didn't it make me smaller, more petite?" I inquired.

"Magic is a part of the natural world, Carl--or perhaps it should be Carol, now--and it must obey many of the same rules that science does," Mistress Samantha explained. "Matter can neither be created nor destroyed--the spell simply took the matter that made up your male body and rearranged it into a female matrix. Some of the flesh that was once your masculine muscles has become the fatty tissue of your breasts and ass. The hair that once covered your chest and legs has been shifted to your head--unfortunately, there was not enough of it to make your hair really long. But that will change."

She looked at her watch. "But, now, it is time to get you dressed in the rest of your outfit--you have an appointment at the beauty parlor."

My heart skipped a beat; my cock twitched in its satiny confines. I had long ago lost count of the number of times I had fantasized about visiting a beauty parlor and leaving it as an attractive woman. Now, it was to happen.

Mistress Samantha handed me a white satin blouse that buttoned up the back with little pearl buttons. I needed help in getting it closed properly--obviously there were things that being a woman entailed that I hadn't thought about. The blouse seemed a touch tight against my breasts--"Nonsense," Mistress Samantha said when I mentioned it. "A girl with lovely boobs like yours should always display them"--but I thrilled to the way it slithered over my hairless arms.

The blouse was followed by a tight, straight miniskirt in faded denim. This skirt was short! The hem grazed the darker bands at my stocking tops.

Now dressed in somewhat presentable fashion (I was still mightily embarrassed by the way the blouse showed off my breasts and the skirt revealed my legs), Mistress Samantha sat me at her vanity for a light going-over with cosmetics. "There's no need for a heavy-duty job right now," she explained. "The girls at the beauty parlor will do a splendid job."

So this was to be a complete "make over"--as if I hadn't had enough of one right here. My cock was stiff as a rod beneath my satin tap pants and short skirt. I was certain it was obvious...and it was.

My mistress placed her hand on the front of my skirt, lightly brushing the concealed head of my cock. "Calm down, Carol--now!" she demanded. Instantly, my member deflated.

"How--how did you do that?" I asked.

"A little part of the spell I didn't explain to you before, Carol dearest," she replied, smiling mischievously. "The magic not only changed your body but your mind as well. I have complete control of your psyche and sexuality. 'Now' is the triggering word, when preceded by a command.

"So," she continued, as I trembled at the words, "unless you want to stay as submissive little Carol for the rest of your life--and I can make you want that, you know--you'll do as I say for the remainder of the weekend, maybe longer. After all, I could fix it so you have no choice!"

Mistress Samantha walked me out to her private elevator, through the lobby and out to her car. We drew many stares, and not just from the men. Most of the women in the lobby and in the garage followed us with their eyes as well, some with unabashed admiration for the way we showed off our "assets," others with equally undisguised jealousy. I was proud I could hold up so well alongside the beautiful Samantha--but also very much aware that she could expose my secret maleness at any moment.

We got into Mistress Samantha's BMW and made it to the beauty parlor without incident. As we parked in front of the shop, I recognized it as Evelyn's--one of the most exclusive beauty salons in town. I knew Mistress Samantha frequented it (I had often met her in the vicinity for one of our dates), but I had no idea she would see fit to bring me here in my transformed state.

We entered the shop and I found myself in a totally feminine environment. I was at once completely overjoyed and profoundly embarrassed. I had looked forward to this experience since first discovering my submissive side in my late teens--but I was also completely aware of the fact that, deep down, as a male, I did not belong here.

Mistress Samantha pointed to one of the chairs in the waiting area. "Sit down there, Carol; cross your legs and fold your hands prettily in your lap--now!" The spell was as good as Mistress Samantha said it was. Instantly, almost without realizing it, I was seated where she had indicated, in the pose she demanded.

"I'll go tell Evelyn we're here," Mistress Samantha continued, heading for the back of the salon.

As I sat in my extremely feminine posture, waiting for my mistress to return, my eyes fell on the magazine rack beside me. In addition to the usual fashion mags--Glamour, Vogue, Mademoiselle--there were a number of more "unusual" titles, such as Petticoat Power, Leather Fantasies, and Transvestites in Bondage. Somehow, I could not keep my eyes off their lurid covers.

"I see our little transformation candidate has found our library," a voice laughed. I turned to find Mistress Samantha standing there with another lovely young woman, Evelyn I assumed.

"Sam, what a perfectly lovely beginning you've made!" she exclaimed. "Carol, as you can tell, one of our specialties here is helping dominant women to transform their slaves into sissy slaves. But I can't remember when we've ever had such wonderful base material."

I blushed to the roots of my shag-like hair at her compliment. Mistress Samantha gestured for me to get up and follow them. We retreated to the very rear of the shop, where the walls were decorated with poster-size photos of transvestized men--some quite obvious, others very beautiful, so that you had to look closely to be sure they were men. Next, I noted that all the chairs back here, unlike those in the more public part of the salon, had straps at the arms and foot rests.

The perceptive Evelyn again noticed what had caught my eye. "Yes, Carol dear, some of our subjects are less willing than others, requiring us to secure them while we work. That won't be necessary with you, will it?" she asked.

"It better not be," Mistress Samantha answered, eyeing me carefully.

The two dominants helped me into the chair. Evelyn placed a cloth over my clothes and proceeded to get me set for a shampoo. "Christy," she called, "will come give Carol her wash, please?"

A tall, slender young woman in a short pink smock approached, mincing on her six-inch pink heels. As she leaned over me to adjust a towel, I noted the size of her Adam's apple--Christy, lovely as she seemed, was a man, undoubtedly one of Evelyn's earlier conquests and transformations.

Christy finished her careful ministrations, brought the chair back to an upright position, and swung it around so that I faced Evelyn. "Now, the real work begins," the salon mistress announced, brandishing a comb and scissors.

A short time later, it seemed that very little of my hair had been cut (after all, it wasn't very long) and Evelyn began massaging in another treatment. Then she pulled individual clumps of hair and wrapped them in a chemical-soaked foil. "You're going to look so good with frosted hair, Carol," she commented. I blanched--how much of this transformation would remain when the Mistress Samantha removed the spell? How could I go to work on Monday with frosted hair?

Evelyn placed an old-fashioned bonnet-type hair dryer over my head and motioned for Christy to come over again. While my hair dried, the TV salon attendant manicured my nails, shaping them into gentle ovals and painting them a bright red. She then turned her attentions to my toenails, painting them to match my fingernails.

Within half-an-hour Evelyn pulled me from under the dryer and performed her finishing touches on my hair. "Now for the final touches," she said, rolling over a tray of cosmetics. First, she wiped Mistress Samantha's earlier work from my face. "Do you want her to learn how to do this herself?" she asked my mistress.

"Certainly," Mistress Samantha replied. She looked at me. "Carol, you will remember everything Evelyn does in making you up--and remember it, now!" Instantly, my attention was riveted on Evelyn's hands as she went about her work--trimming my eyebrows, putting mascara, eyeliner and shadow on my eyes, brushing on a rosy blush, and outlining then filling in my lips with a creamy red color that matched my nails.

"She's ready, Sam," Evelyn announced, whisking the protective cloth from my lap.

Mistress Samantha took my hand and helped me from the chair, walking me to the full-length mirror in the salon. Once again, I felt stirrings in my cock as I gazed at the woman I had become. My brown hair, now frosted with a golden tone, was cut into a Liza-like look, framing my youthfully made-up face with wispy tendrils. The image's lips parted, revealing the straight white teeth behind the kissable red lips. The woman's body was youthful, but tall and big-boned. The effect was a coltish, appealing, sexy girl. Was I falling in love with myself?

"Like what you see, Carol?" Mistress Samantha asked. I could only nod. "I'm glad. I want you to feel this way whenever you see yourself as a woman--now!"

That was the ultimate command--Mistress Samantha had succeeded in inalterably connecting these passionate sexual stirrings with the sight of myself as a beautiful woman. Where would all this lead?

To be continued

[Don't forget to pick the man you'd love to see feminized (details here)!]

Men We'd Love to See Feminized ~ Round 1, Week 2

Warren Beatty



David Boreanaz



Pick your favorite in the poll to the right.

Men We'd Love to See Feminized ~ Round 1, Week 1 Results

The overwhelming favorite was Ben Affleck:

Colleen's Shopping Trip

[Another one for my Flickr friend...]

[Don't forget to choose the man you'd love to see feminized (details here)!]

Colleen's Surprise

[This is the first of two pieces done for a Flickr friend named Colleen.]

[Don't forget to choose the man you'd love to see feminized (details here)!]

Pretty Sissy Brigade

[Don't forget to choose the man you'd love to see feminized (details here)!]

Legs and Tits

Maria and Desiree had been planning this for months, ever since the cute delivery boy first showed up at their door with the groceries.

Desiree had done the shopping--finding just the right clothes, cosmetics, and paraphernalia for keeping the cutie-pie in place while they accomplished their goal. Maria had done the research, learning the hypnotic techniques and body-shaping practices to ensure that their prize would both look and act as they wished.

The day had come--they were ready. Maria placed the order with the market, especially requesting that Harold be the one to bring the groceries to the apartment. The girls dressed in the most provocative of leather outfits, prepared to distract their intended victim as they made him into what they wanted.

The bell rang. Maria, dressed in a black leather bra, corset, garterbelt, stockings and black patent pumps with six-inch heels, opened the door. Harold nearly dropped the bags at the sight of the blonde goddess before him. "Oh, darling, I'm so sorry!" Maria exclaimed. "I didn't mean to startle you. Here, let me help."

She took one of the bags from him and led him into the kitchen...where Desiree, similarly dressed, sat at the table, kicking one high-heel shod leg back and forth. Harold didn't know where to look, or even if he should.

"Well, there are your groceries...uh, and the bill," he stammered. "I'd better be going."

"Nonsense," protested Maria. "You haven't gotten your tip yet...and besides, it's hot out there. Sit and have a cool drink first." Reluctantly, Harold sat at the table, as Maria fished through her purse.

The first thing she pulled from it was a compact mirror. She carefully placed it on the table so that the light reflected slightly into Harold's eyes. She began to talk softly to him. "Yes, it is so warm outside and you walked all this way with those heavy bags. Heavy, so heavy. You must be tired. Tired, so tired. Why, look at you, you can hardly keep your eyes open." Harold's eyelids fluttered in the glare of the mirror's reflection. "It's all right, sweetheart, you can close your eyes for a while. In fact, I insist on it--I'm going to count to 50, and I want you to close your eyes and just listen to my voice while you relax and rest."

Harold found that it was easy to follow Maria's request. He let his eyes close. "That's it, dear. One, two, three, four, five. Just relax; you're tired, so tired. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Those bags were heavy, so heavy. Just like your eyes are so heavy now. Eleven, twelve, thirteen..."

She continued that way until Harold slumped in his chair. "Harold, the only thing you hear is my voice; the only things you obey are my words."

"Your voice, your words," Harold murmured in assent.

"Open your eyes, but remain in my control. Stand and follow me." The boy obeyed, following the mesmeric vision into the bedroom, where Desiree had already laid out the appropriate clothes. "Strip to the buff, Harold." He obeyed.

"Oh, Maria, you were right--look, he has almost no hair on his body at all!" Desiree noted. "We won't even have to shave him!"

"And see how slender he is...we'll hardly have to pull in the corset at all to get the waistline we want."

In moments, they had the boy dressed in a satin corset, nylons, and black patent pumps with seven-inch heels, that made his legs look long, slender and absolutely feminine. "Harold, in a few moments, I'm going to wake you from your trance by saying Heather is gorgeous. That is your new name, Heather...and when you are entranced, that phrase will always awake you. Similarly, the phrase Heather's a knockout will always return you to this trance state. But entranced or not, you will always follow any request from Desiree or myself as a command, never to be refused or denied. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Very good." She turned to Desiree. "Tie his hands behind the chair, just as a precaution." When that was done, she spoke to their transformed captive. "Heather is gorgeous."

Instantly, Heather's eyes fluttered open. "Maria, Desiree, why am I tied to the chair?"

"We didn't want you to move too much while we did your makeup, Heather honey," Maria lied. And then Desiree began her cosmetic magic, as Harold's attractive male face became the devastatingly beautiful image of Heather.

Then Maria wheeled a full-length mirror in front of Heather. "Look, darling, see the new you! Look at those long, smooth, beautiful legs! There's only one thing missing, Heather dear."

"What is that, Maria?" the boy-girl asked.

"Breasts, my darling, boobs, tits, jugs, a rack!" she laughed. "You do want nice succulent boobs, don't you, dear?"

Heather nodded and sighed.

"Excellent, darling. Next we'll get you a great pair of tits to go with those lovely legs of yours!"

THE END

[Don't forget to choose the man you'd love to see feminized (details here)!]

Men We'd Love to See Feminized Week 1

In the poll to the right, pick which of these two famous men you'd love to see made to look like a woman:

Ben Affleck



Michael Ansara

The Five Women We'd Most Love to Be

With Cote dePablo winning week 5 of the third round, here--in order--are the five women we'd most love to be:

Alicia Silverstone
Cote de Pablo
Raquel Welch
Charlize Theron
Stana Katic

Stand by for the new poll.

Back to the Future

The outfits posted this week are the last you'll see of me dressed for about a month. Starting next week, my wife will be working from home nearly full time, so opportunities to dress will be severely limited. The next one is probably in mid May, when she has an all-day conference scheduled. I'm hoping there will be something like that (or an overnight trip) at least once a month. I'll try to squeeze in as many outfits as possible each time.

OTOH, this change means I will be moving my workspace upstairs, so even when we're home together, I'll be able to work on Dani- and blog-related material without worrying too much about what she sees.

For the immediate future:

On Saturday, I'll post the results of the current and final round in the "Women We'd Love to Be" poll, and begin a new poll, a revised version of the old "Men We'd Love to See Feminized" survey. On Sunday and Monday, there will be art and a new lost story. After that, who knows?

But rest assured, I will be trying to post at least three or four times a week.

April Showers 8

Legs and denim...



The denim minidress is by Roommates, bought at Foreman Mills in January 2012; the shoes are American Eagle "Javelin Jetson" black oxfords, from Payless in December 2013. Other accessories are a polka-dot bow, red jewelry, and natural hose.



Another nice portrait:

More pics on Flickr; see the next post for news about the blog's future; and don't forget to rate the woman you'd love to be (details here)!

April Showers 7

Dressed for a mid-town shopping excursion, I think....



The brown jersey dress (one of my long-time faves) is from Kmart's Attention line, bought in April 2008; the shoes are Merona "Melva" brown cap-toe mary-janes, from Target in November 2012. Other accessories are a brown fedora, gold jewelry, and natural hose.



A cute and feminine portrait:

More pics on Flickr; one more outfit tomorrow, along with news about the future of this blog; and don't forget to rate the woman you'd love to be (details here)!

April Showers 6

Legs from altitude to ground....



The blue blouse is by Lee Rider, bought at Wal-Mart in January 2010; the blue striped skirt is by Miss Majesty, purchased at Fashion Bug in November 2012; the shoes are Mossimo "Valonia" blue patent pumps, from Target in March 2009. Other accessories are the blue-and-black cloche, silver jewelry, silver belt, and natural hose.



A sort of silly smile, I guess:

More pics on Flickr; two more outfits for later in the week; and don't forget to rate the woman you'd love to be (details here)!

April Showers 5

A lovely and fitting outfit for spring...



The white blouse with gold buttons is by Notations Woman, found in a thrift shop in January 2012; the floral skirt is by Wal-Mart's George line, bought in June 2012; the shoes are Kevin Cole Unlisted "Bond Girl" bone peep-toe pumps, from Shoe Dept. in January 2013. Other accessories are a scarf, white hat, white belt, gold jewelry and natural hose.



One of my best recent portraits, I think:

More pics on Flickr; three more outfits that will be posted through the week; and don't forget to rate the woman you'd love to be (details here)!

Bride to Be

Dressing resumes tomorrow; and don't forget to rate the woman you'd love to be (details here)!

Fem-Boy Flirt

More art tomorrow; and don't forget to rate the woman you'd love to be (details here)!

Women We'd Love to Be ~ Round 3, Week 5

Once again, rate each person in the poll to the right:

Sarah Michelle Gellar

Cote de Pablo

Women We'd Love to Be ~ Round 3, Week 4

Another close one, with Charlize Theron eking out a 3.87 rating.

April Showers 4

Blue and white...just right...



The white crochet top is from JC Penney's St. John's Bay line, bought in August 2012; the blue print miniskirt is from Target's Xhileration line, purchased in January 2012; the shoes are Lela Rose Unforgettable Moments "Nathalie" white pumps, from Payless in April 2010. Other accessories are pastel bow, scarf, blue jewelry, and white hose.



And a portrait:

More pics on Flickr; art over the weekend; and don't forget to rate the woman you'd love to be (details here)!

April Showers 3

Letting out my inner animal...



The zebra-print dress is from Target's Merino line, purchased in January 2010; the shoes are Dollhouse "Harlot" croc-print pumps, from Shoe Dept. in January 2010. Other accessories are the black hat, black-and-white jewelry, black belt, and black hose.



As usual, a great portrait in a hat:

More pics on Flickr; one more outfit from Tuesday still to post; and don't forget to rate the woman you'd love to be (details here)!