Prologue:
"She wants Monroe, Russell, and Ann-Margret, all on the same day, at the height of our busiest season," Barbara told her boss. "Shall I tell her it's impossible, that they're all booked up?"
"No way," replied June Carpenter. "I didn't make this agency what it is by turning down assignments. I'll figure something out." She looked at her assistant. "Go tell Ms. Fleming she'll have her star look-alikes when she needs them."
Barbara shrugged, nodded and went to her own desk to make the call. June fumed a bit. "How in hell am I going to make this work...." She turned to the window, gazing past the sign that advertised her business: Not Quite Real, a talent agency that specialized in supplying celebrity look-alikes for parties and other events. It was famed for having the most realistic "star copies," people who not only looked but acted the parts. That reputation was a result of the training program June put her recruits through, a product of her own background in theater, makeup and psychology.
Frustrated, June turned back to her desk and began thumbing through the pile of employment applications on her desk. Unfortunately, most of them were from young men, unlikely to help resolve her latest problem. "Wait a minute," she said aloud, as she pulled out three of the packages and scanned the photos that came with them. "These three guys could--No, I'd never pull it off, they'd never agree.
"But would they have to know.....?"
_______________________
Two days later, all three of the applicants were waiting for their "indoctrination." Mark was a smooth-faced blond with a somewhat pudgy body; James was brunette with wide shoulders and slender hips; Andy was a redhead who'd be called petite if he were a girl.
All three turned to the door as June Carpenter entered. "Thank you all for coming in on such short notice," she began. "We have urgent need of three look-alikes, and we think you fellows can fill the bill for us."
"Which actors?" Mark asked.
"We've found that--with our unique training methods--that it's best that the candidates not know what they're being groomed for," June answered. "You are aware of our techniques?"
"Sure," James said. "You have some sort of hypnosis and subliminal learning system, I understand...plus some of the best cosmeticians in the industry."
"Exactly," she concurred. "Are you all ready?" They nodded. "Very good." She pushed a buzzer and two other young women came in. "Mark, if you'll follow me? James and Andy, these ladies will escort you to your training sessions."
June led Mark to a darkened room with a projection TV and a comfortable recliner. "Sit down, relax," she said. "The program will begin shortly after I leave."
With that, she shut the door and Mark discovered the room was completely dark and silent. No light or sound penetrated from outside. Then he began to hear a soft music coming, it seemed, from all around him; then he noticed a faint light from the TV screen that brightened into an ever-changing pattern of colors and forms. He was captivated by it, as it seemed to respond to the music. In moments, he found he couldn't take his eyes off it. He settled back into the recliner and drifted into the hypnotic trance the patterns and sounds were designed to induce.
In a few minutes, the music was replaced by a soft, purring voice; he couldn't make out the words, but he knew it was speaking to him, telling him important things that he would recall when commanded. The lights and colors changed to a series of images of a woman, a famous woman--Marilyn Monroe. Occasionally, there would be a flash of words on the screen, words that reinforced the instructions from the soft voice. Have they put in the wrong program? Mark began to wonder. But then the images and words and voice captured his attention once again and he no longer cared.
In similar rooms in the same part of the offices, James and Andy went through nearly identical experiences, save that their programs featured Jane Russell and Ann-Margret, respectively. The programs for all three young men would continue through the afternoon and into the night.
Chapter One: Marilyn Moves Out
The next morning, Mark was awakened when the first light he'd seen in hours appeared as the door to the training room opened. June Carpenter greeted him.
"Good morning, Mark," she said. "Ready to move on in your training?"
Mark stretched in the recliner and carefully got up. June was pleased to see that he kept his knees together and swung his legs to the side as he arose. She was even more pleased when she saw the femininely sexy wiggle to his hips as he walked toward her.
"Yes, ma'am," he answered.
"Very good--you'll have breakfast in the cafeteria and then I'll escort you to Miss Elaine, our make-up specialist." She led the way down the hall and got Mark settled at a table. Half-an-hour later she returned. It was time to see how much of the previous day's indoctrination had taken.
"Some like it hot," she said to him.
There was an almost instantaneous change in Mark's bearing, as his wiggle became more pronounced, he thrust his upper torso forward and his ass backward. His arms moved in a feminine manner and he said, in a breathy, little girlish voice that was so like the original that even June was startled, "G'mornin', Miss Carpenter." It was followed by a bit of a giggle.
"Come with me, Marilyn," June ordered, and the half-feminized male sashayed behind her.
At the make-up salon, June took Miss Elaine aside. "You know about this case, Elaine?" she asked. Elaine nodded. "This boy--and his fellows who will be in later--could be the culmination of your career. Can you do it?"
Elaine stepped over to Mark and took his chin in her hands, turning it this way and that. "Oh, certainly, June. He already has the right bone structure. A little shading and color--and, of course, the bleach job we talked about--and people will think Norma Jean herself has been resurrected!"
They stepped away again from their subject. "But I'm somewhat concerned that this kind of drastic change in his appearance might break your previous training. It might be best if he were 'out of commission,' as it were, while I work."
"Certainly." June turned to Mark. "Marilyn, seven-year itch." And Mark returned to the comfortable trance state in which he had spent the night. "He's all yours, Elaine," June said.
Deep within, Mark was aware of all that occurred over the next several hours: He watched, as in a dream, as the hair colorist applied various solutions to his hair, until it turned a shade of white gold from its previous dishwater blonde; he was impassive as Elaine plucked his eyebrows and reshaped them into quizzical arches, as she applied foundation, powder, blush, mascara, eyeliner and eyeshadow; as she reshaped his lips into a kissable pout of bright red and added a mole below his mouth.
Then he saw his newly bleached hair curled and permed into a chin-length bob of '50s-ish fashion. The facial changes were followed by having Mark's nails filed and painted into scarlet claws.
All the while, Elaine noticed something as well--her charge's cock was swelling with each alteration, as though his mesmerized consciousness were somehow lustfully attracted to his own changed image.
Over all that came a daring, skin-tight, sequined gown--low-cut, clinging to every ersatz curve. Finally, they perched their creation on a pair of stilt-heeled evening sandals. As they stood him up before the mirror, June re-entered. "My god," she gasped, "I had no idea she'd come out like this!"
Elaine whispered in her ear. "Oh, yes, that was a new part of the training tapes," June explained. "We realized there had to be a way to make these young men want to look like sexy women...so we tied all that to their sex drives. Mark will now desire to look like and act like Marilyn Monroe as much as possible."
She turned to her Galatea. "Marilyn, some like it hot." The boy-girl awoke, saw her reflection in the mirror, stiffened and shuddered.
"Did she just--?" Elaine asked.
"I believe so," June responded. "I didn't realize the sex-connection would be so strong."
Marilyn turned to her employer. "Miss Carpenter," she began in that remarkable imitation of the famous voice, "I'm ready for my assignment."
Still to come: Chapter Two--Jane Jazzes Things Up
[Don't forget to pick the man you'd love to see feminized (details here)!]
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