Home-Maid Cookies

I didn't think I'd be posting anything again before New Year's...but the houseguests have all left, so I decided to get something up today. Here's another story from a reader of my old website.

Both Haley Porsche and my wife Linda were members of the "Good Old Girl" network in our state. Through Haley they both were looking at becoming players on a national scale. Haley had won the governor's office of our state and tapped my wife Linda to run her campaign for a second four year term. Her first term had been marred only slightly by her divorce from Gary, her philandering husband.

When Haley won her second term she gave Linda the opportunity to be her personal advisor. That’s when our problems began. First I had to give up my job, as my company had bids in with the state. Danielle Smalls, yet another of my wife’s associates, worked in our legal affairs department. She advised our company to let me go, because of the possibility of our bids being nullified due to Linda’s position at the state house. Then the commute became too much for Linda and she decided we’d rent out our home and move into Haley’s personal residence, near the governor's mansion. We’d occupy the attached guest quarters. When I disagreed she hit me where it really troubled me.

"Claude, I believe this would be an excellent opportunity for you to resolve some conflicts from your childhood. You’ll be in a very supportive all female atmosphere. Myself, Haley, Helena Stern (Chef/head housekeeper), Ginger(Haley’s personal maid), and Alice(chauffeur) can all help you. They all know by the way," she said as I looked at her, my mouth wide open.

"You told everyone I’d been in therapy because of problems with childhood cross dressing? That it had caused impotency problems?" I asked stunned.

She answered, "Yes I did, although I also related that the impotency went away when you dressed as Claire. Everyone is willing to support you fully, in a loving feminine atmosphere. We’ll start you off slowly. Unisex clothing, some light housekeeping. You can maintain our section of the house. From there we’ll get into some ‘girl talk’, brief trips out side on the grounds, then we’ll get into full dress up and charm lessons. Finally, day trips in public. Fully supervised and chaperoned of course." She said this as if it were a normal course of action for a husband and wife to be discussing.

It wasn’t lost on me that this "experiment" was never referred to as temporary, or that when the truck from the charitable organization came to the house, all of my clothing left, with the exception of enough unisex apparel for about a week. My wife’s eagerness to feminize me was obvious. This eagerness carried over to the ladies at Haley’s residence.

During the week, Ms. Helena got me familiar with cleaning our portion of the house. Linda hardly was home, staying several evenings at the state house. Ms. Helena also saw to it that I wore ladies slacks, satiny under things, stockings, blouses and medium heeled shoes along with my ruffled aprons, during the day. At bedtime she made it mandatory for me to keep my body shaved, bathed, and scented with powder, lotion and perfume. My hair, which a local beautician had trimmed and shaped, during a visit to the house, was set and rolled with curlers and jell, and always netted and turbaned. Linda herself had plucked and shaped my eyebrows with great pleasure, before our move.

Our second Saturday at the house, found everyone very excited. Two well known stylists, a husband and wife team, Patricia and Jeffrey Queen, were coming to the house to beautify both Haley and Linda, for a magazine interview, to be conducted, later in the day. They would be bringing one assistant, Angel, a Latin American beauty.

"Everyone may as well have something done, Helena. Just in case any other photos are taken," Haley said as my governess, which is how I thought of Helena, looked at me smiling.

When I did enter the beauty room, as Haley called this special section of her home, I entered a very calm relaxed atmosphere. Soft music was playing. Linda was having her hair set with hot rollers, by Angel. They were chatting and smiling. Haley, her hair already in hot rollers, was being manicured by Jeffrey. Patricia was supervising Ginger, Haley’s very attractive uniformed maid, while the servant cleaned up the area. Alice was no where to be seen, and as Helena and I entered the room, Helena excused herself and I was left facing a smiling Patricia.

"There you are Claire," she said, using the feminine name I’d been called since moving to the house. "Ginger see that Claire is put in a cape and shampooed. A hot oil condition would be nice also." Then shaking her head she added, "I must do something with my Jeffrey’s hair. It continues to fall in his eyes, and obstructs his vision while he serves Haley."

She strode towards her husband, and as he paused from his care of Haley’s nails, Patricia took a brush and a satin ribbon and pulled and brushed his long blond hair into a ponytail, which she tied with the ribbon. The ponytail however, did not start at the nape of Jeffrey’s neck. It was tied off at the very top of his head, in a plumed fashion. It fell to his left ear in sort of a "Beach Bunny" effect. He blushed furiously as Ginger seated me for my shampoo.

Once my wash and condition was complete, I was seated in font of a vanity and mirror, in a very high make up chair, that one would see on a movie set. I felt quite vulnerable and very helpless, the two inch heels of my open toed pumps, barely catching on a rung of the chair. Standing behind me, and staring at me in the mirror, Ms. Patricia said, "Well Claire, this is a very big day for you. What are we going to do today?" she asked glancing at My wife, Linda.

As Linda rose to her feet and sashayed calmly over, Patricia said to her, "I dare say Linda. This may be a good day to start her on cosmetics again," she said, emphasizing the word again. "I wouldn’t rule it out, Patricia," Linda replied, placing a hand on my shoulder. " Claire wore make up as a teenager, didn’t you dear?" she asked not waiting for me to answer, then added, "Let’s see," as they both began to discuss my "makeover."

Patricia began by trimming my hair into a Dutch bob, about medium length, midway between my chin and shoulders. She gave me square cut bangs to the top of my soon to be waxed eyebrows. Once she zipped my brows, she gave me a nice, creamy facial. During this time, Ginger had seated herself next to me and began my manicure.

Whenever I glanced at her, should would smile, wink, and then blow me a little kiss. This made me feel really uncomfortable. I found this sexy ladies maid to be very attractive, but after all I was married. Then Patricia began to roll my hair onto medium sized, pink plastic curlers, making sure the set was very, very tight.

After my set was finished she applied a foamy setting lotion very carefully to each tightly rolled curler, before putting a hair net over my wet, lotion covered hair. She then had both her husband and Ginger wheel a dryer into place so I could be seated under it for my hair to dry. Ginger had completed my manicure with a soft, subtle shade of pink rose as she called it.

To my knowledge, there is nothing that ever gave me a more feminine feeling then to see myself in a mirror, hair rolled up, glistening wet, wearing a hair net, under a dryer. To top it all off, I was given a copy of Good Housekeeping to read. These ladies did not leave their intentions to my imagination.

As my hair dried and I read an article on table decorating, I glanced around the "salon."
Patricia and Angel were finishing up with Haley and Linda. Ginger was now shampooing Jeffrey’s hair. Once Haley and Linda were pronounced "done" they left with Angel. Myself, Jeff and Patricia were left alone. It was then I was treated to a stunning revelation! Jeffrey Queen began to set his own hair while his wife laid out some women’s clothing. His clothing!

For once he finished with his set, he picked up the skirt, blouse and heels and headed for the restroom, returning fully dressed as a female, including a padded chest! Were all these ladies into dressing men as femmes? I’d soon find out. When his wife moved the dryer and began my comb out she spoke to me, "Jeffrey, or I should say, Sally, will be showing you how to apply your make up Claire. When I’ve done your hair, go over to the other vanity for a make up lesson. How would you like your hair today? Maybe an up do?" she asked.

"Patricia, what makes you or anyone else think I want to wear make up or have my hair done?" I asked, realizing immediately that I’d said the wrong thing.

Without batting an eye Patricia said, "Sally honey, go see if you can find Miss Helena and anyone else not busy. I think we have a reluctant girl on our hands." Patricia then fashioned my hair into a high fashion upsweep, pinned in a sort of braided pattern in the back. It was the type of ‘do’ I had seen Linda wear to luncheons and business meetings. Very sophisticated.

I sat frozen wondering why I was no longer resisting, knowing full well Ms. Stern and company were not going to go easy on me. Ms. Stern, Alice, Angel and Sally entered. Sally stood back and the three ladies who had just entered, helped Patricia lift me from my perch.

"Wait ladies, I’ll obey. I’ll wear make up. You can put spray in my hair. Anything! Don’t hurt me, please!?" I begged to no use. "Sally, won’t you help me?" I asked, already realizing my sissy sister and I were in the same boat. The four women laughed uproariously as they laid me over a vanity bench, tying my wrists and ankles to the legs of the vanity.

"Sally, please help me," Patricia mocked me in a squeaky little girls voice. "My goodness, can you believe it?" she asked, tears in her eyes from the laughter. "One pansy asking another for help," she laughed again. "No Claire, I’m afraid Sally won’t be able to help you," Patricia stated condescendingly as she lowered my stretch slacks and French cut bikini panties to my knees, rubbing my butt while she added, "Sally would be afraid that she would break a nail or a heel, and we can’t have that, can we now?"

Ms. Stern then began to lecture me as she also began to paddle me with Linda’s old initiation paddle from her sorority days. "We will not let you off just because you changed your mind about cooperating Claire. You may as well learn right now that anytime you complain about your transformation, or resist anyone in the household concerning it, in any way, justice will be swift and uncomfortable. This will teach you to obey without hesitation." The entire time she was swatting me with the paddle.

I was on the brink of tears when she stopped, only to hand the paddle to Alice, saying, "My arm’s tired dear, take over, lets make this paddling one that our newest sissy will never forget. Every one gets a turn!" She said in a commanding tone.

By the time it was all over I was a shivering, shaking, quivering mess. Sobbing hysterically like a jilted diva in an opera, I was finished off by Patricia, who had followed Angel. The Latino girl had really paddled me with a flair.

Patricia, as she finished said to Sally, "Untie and comfort your new girlfriend, Sally. Then get her into a skirt, higher heels, high as she can stand them. We want her in a padded bra, and sheer hose also. Next, a makeup lesson and make sure her hair is sprayed to stay in place. Finally you are to give her an introductory charm lesson. Someone will come to get you when it’s time to introduce her to the household." Completing her instructions she and the rest of my tormentors left the room.

I’m uncertain how long it took to calm me down and get me dressed as was required. I do know Sally was very comforting and to this day we are best girlfriends. There is nothing like having a chat with her while she does my hair. I also know, that the dressing up didn’t take nearly as long as the makeup lesson, and by the time we began the charm lesson, I was completely back to normal.

Of course, that is, if you call normal, parading around a room in three inch heels, preening in a mirror, and making sure every hair is carefully sprayed in place. I also tried my first curtseys since junior high, when mom and my sisters used to petticoat discipline me.

At long last, Ginger came to the beauty room to take me to supper. I tried following her and Sally, who walked ever so ladylike and chatted and joked like old friends. I wanted dearly to emulate their charming, girlish moves and mannerisms. I knew instinctively that the sooner I did, the sooner I would fit in at the house.

"Supper will be served shortly Claire. We’re going to the living room for you to make your formal entrance. Relax, you are among friends." Then she surprised me by saying, "Both Sally and I have been through this and it really can be enjoyable if we obey." Before I could ask her what she meant she motioned her hand to hold me back from the entrance way.

Entering the room she announced, "Ladies, I’d like to introduce the newest member of our household, Missy Claire Goodman," she said as I self consciously entered the room and curtseyed to bright smiles and polite applause. It wasn’t lost on me that Ginger had used my wife’s last name, Goodman, and not mine. I curtseyed the best I could and Linda asked me if I was ready to begin behaving. "Yes dear I am" I answered, curtseying and smiling prettily. She then instructed me to help with the table setting and serving of the food.

Arriving in the kitchen Ginger gave Sally and I fully ruffled, to the knees, crisp, white aprons to wear. She showed me how to set the table and then gave me some pointers on serving. "Just follow my lead and my verbal instructions. If you are working with Sally, do the same," she stated in a motherly fashion.

The ladies, Helena Stern, Haley, Alice, Patricia, Angel and Linda arrived and took their seats at the table. Though the table would seat 8, we, the maids, (as I now accepted the fact) were required to sit at a smaller table near to the kitchen.

As each course was served we would set down to eat. Each of us had a signal for when we were needed. Mine was two rings of the bell, Sally’s three, Ginger, of course as head maid, got one ring. For this meal I was only called upon by Ginger to assist her with the serving of the next course. Once desert was finished, Ginger and I cleaned up as Sally served after dinner beverages.

While in the kitchen I wanted to ask Ginger about the remark she had made earlier in the day about her and Sally "having been through this." This, meant to me, being transformed. I obviously was in the process, and I had seen Sally dress right in front of me. Ginger however,….. well, I could hardly believe that this lovely creature was anything other then a true to life genetic female! I couldn’t broach the subject, though.

How on earth do you ask someone if they are a dominated sissy? Especially if you think that they are, in all probability a real girl? Maybe Haley or Ms. Stern was a lesbian and Ginger belonged to one of them as sort of a submissive femme.

By the time the evening was over, I had helped clean up, serve in the sitting room and was escorted to bed by my lovely wife. As we reached the door way to our section of the house she turned to Helena Stern, about to go to her room and asked, "Will it be necessary for Claire to set her hair at bedtime? I don’t know that I want to sleep with my new bride while she has a head full of rollers."

"Of course not Ms. Goodman, she is yours as she has always been yours. It will be up to you how she prepares herself in the evenings," Ms. Stern replied, speaking of me as if I were a piece of owned property.

"Well thank you Helena, how about this though? When I’m at the State House with Haley, or anywhere away from here for that matter, Claire is yours as far as appearance, conduct, or discipline. Of course during her routine work day she also belongs to you. Let’s just say that she’s mine in matters of wifely performance," she said smiling. "Also, please dear, call me Linda," she added.

"Excellent idea Linda. We will share in keeping Claire feminine and obedient. Goodnight girls," Ms. Stern said as she closed the door to her room. The evening was a real eye opener for me. I was ravaged as never before and woke with my entire butt sore, from both my paddling and my reaming by Linda’s vibrator and faux penis.

I struggled to get out of bed, get dressed, fix my hair and face and get to the kitchen to help Ginger prepare breakfast.

The Queens and Angel, had left late the evening before, so Sally wouldn’t be there to help. Luckily I remembered to curtsey to Miss Helena who assisted as well as supervised with the preparations. I have forgotten a few times since, and paid with a hard smack on the back of my thighs with the nearest utensil, such as a spatula or serving spoon.

"Claire, after cleanup, you will go with Ginger to move into your maids room. She will also show you your uniforms and instruct you on what to wear and when to wear it. You have separate uniforms for different times of the day, different duties and different events. Your room is near Ms. Goodman’s room. If she desires you evenings, or anytime for that matter she will tell you," with that she left Ginger and I to our duties.

Sometime later, as Ginger helped me dress, I was complaining about a few things. Mostly the tightness of the corset, the height of the heels, and the restrictive inner petticoat that was more like a hobble skirt. "Goodness Ginger, we work so hard. Why should we be expected to dress in such impractical clothing?" I whined as I tried to keep my balance on four inch heels.

"Because both Haley and Linda expect us to," she stated somewhat impatiently. " The clothes we wear, the job we do, the way they control us and continue to do as they wish, are all symbols and statements of their domination of us. Your transformation has been in the works for ages dear. Ever since Haley dumped me and turned me into a sissy for cheating on her, Linda has been waiting to girlie you up," she said as I looked at him, or her or whatever, in shock and surprise.

How could I not have seen it? Ginger was most certainly a transformed male, and not just any male. She was Haley’s philandering ex-husband, Gary! "Oh, my goodness! How long have you been like this?" I asked in surprise as I set down in a chair, careful to smooth my skirt as I did so.

Ginger set down, and in her very feminine voice said, "Since a couple months after the divorce. At least that’s when she started me on this road to girlie hood. After she kicked me out I begged her to take me back. She told me the conditions and I agreed. I figured, after a while, she’d let up and I’d be on easy street. You know. Kept?

She looked at me, checking my reaction, then said, " Well this is definitely like being kept. She buys my clothes, food, and all my toiletries. Keeps a roof over my head. In return I keep myself pretty, wait on her hand and foot, service her sexually when required, and I’m at her beck and call. She even shows me off to her friends. Every gigolo’s dream. In this case though, I’m much closer to being a concubine. Wouldn’t you say?" Ginger said this in as matter a fact manner as possible. I could only listen.

She continued, still "all girl" in her speech and mannerisms. "It wasn’t until I was close to a year into it, and much too far gone to turn back ,that I realized a few things. One was that she was very serious about keeping me as her sissy maid. The other was that she was bisexual, and she and Linda were deeply in love."

This for me, was nearly too much to take, and as my eyes filled with tears Ginger comforted me in a sisterly way. "Oh dear, I had hoped it was Linda that would tell you this. Of course they insisted it should be me," she said as she hugged and rocked me like a little child.

Once I calmed, she asked whether I was able to handle a description of my future lifestyle. "Maybe we could chat while we clean the house," she said smiling. I agreed.

"Ms. Stern and Alice are a "couple". So are our spouses. You and I get the "leftovers" so to speak. Whenever our ladies want to be together we will sleep in our separate sissy maid rooms. If any of the ladies here, or their friends desire us, we make sure we please them." She paused for effect, before continuing.

We’ll basically be rewarded the same way any "kept" female would be. Gifts, time off, lunches, trips to the hairdressers. If we misbehave, or fail to please, well, you got a taste of that yesterday, I believe." As she finished she looked at me, shrugged her shoulders and went on with her house keeping.

During the days that followed, I was kept very busy. If I wasn’t housekeeping, I was being drilled by Helena Stern on charm, beauty, comportment, speech, etc. She was strict, but fair. For the most part, very patient.

Evenings without Linda were lonely. She would encourage me to become friends with Ginger, and to really get into girl stuff. For the most part we did that. Long chats on housekeeping, cooking, hair ,clothes and make up. Even sex. With our spouses, of course. One subject completely off limits was boys. "You’re not real girls. You’re sissies. Your spouses are your only sexual interests," Ms. Stern would admonish us.

In fact, if we were made to service another lady, we could only discuss it with our spouse. A very unusual, but not unpleasant life. The life I lead and love today.

 
Epilogue

It’s our day off. Ginger and I meet Sally at the Key Palace Mall. Shopping, lunch, then to Sally’s house to look through a hairdressing catalogue. Ginger and I both want to "do something different" with our hair.

"Go red Claire. Ginger, you should go a lot darker. Short ‘bobs’. Both of you. You’ll look like sisters. Your ladies won’t be able to keep their hands off of you," Sally tells us. We’re sold. The following Saturday we’re at her salon. We spend hours there, and tons of our spouses money.

Arriving home we mince toward the front door, checking our appearance in our compacts. We primp and preen, touching our shorter, color changed hair. We enter the house quietly. Looking toward the rear of the house I see Linda on the patio, near the pool.

Ms. Stern enters the room we’re in, stops abruptly, smiles and says, "Don’t the two of you look absolutely stunning? I know two ladies who will be very pleased with their money being well spent." She pauses as I thank her, curtsey and head toward the pool.

As I walk out to the patio I hear her say to Ginger, "Miss Haley is on the verandah. Just in case you’re looking for her Ginger."

I don’t hear anything else except my heels clicking on the tiles leading to Linda’s lounge chair. She looks up, smile’s and whistles. "Hello darling. Would you like me to get you anything?" I ask, spinning and twirling as if I’m modeling the "little black dress" I’m wearing.

As I stop a couple feet from, her she rises and comes towards me, her arms held out. She takes me into her arms, pulls me to her, and places her creamy red lips onto mine, and inserts her tongue in my fresh mouth.

"Yes you can dear. You can get my wife’s hot little rear to my bedroom. You can also prepare her to be taken. Now!" she said commandingly. I twirl, blow her a kiss, and fluff my newly done hair, saying, "Yes mistress. It shall be done immediately," as I literally prance off to her room. Tonight, I’m hers. Tomorrow? Who knows?

THE END

Don't forget to choose the prettiest feminized male (details here)

Sissy Pin-Up

Don't forget to choose the prettiest feminized male (details here)!

Happy Christmas to All...

[My annual Christmas greeting, first posted in 2007.]



...and to all a Good Night!"...as Clement Clark Moore wrote. (And, yes, he did write "Happy Christmas," not "Merry....")

I'll probably not be blogging very much over the next few weeks, so Happy New Year as well. I thought this was an opportunity to thank everybody who has commented here, who has linked to here, who reads here regularly.

And a chance to talk about how I feel about Christmas. I'm with Charles Dickens, who put these words into the mouth of Scrooge's nephew, Fred: "I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -- apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that -- as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"

There is practically no version of A Christmas Carol that I cannot stand to watch at least once, although I have a favorite--the 1984 TV version starring George C. Scott, which I consider closest to both the spirit and the letter of Dickens' work. I will confess a soft spot for The Muppet Christmas Carol, in part because my kids love it so (despite their being college graduates now).

So I will close this post with the immortal words of Tiny Tim:

God bless us, everyone!

Real Sissies Don't Play Ball

Don't forget to choose the prettiest feminized male (details here)!

New Toys

Don't forget to choose the prettiest feminized male (details here)!

Beginning Year Eight 2

The second outfit worn on Tuesday night:



The midnight blue velvet dress is by Teddi Evening, a thrift shop find in August 2013; the shoes are Fioni "Loveit" black patent pumps from Payless in May 2011. Other accessories are a floral headband, gold jewelry, and natural hose.



And a portrait:

More pics on Flickr; no more dressing until after New Year's; and don't forget to choose the prettiest feminized male (details here)!

Beginning Year Eight

Dani officially started her eighth year in her crossdressing life this week, with this outfit:



The white cowlneck sweater with gold trim is made by Say What?, bought at Foreman Mills in May 2014; the berry pleated skirt is from Target's Mossimo line in September 2012; the shoes are Fioni "Hilt" poppy patent pumps, from Payless in June 2009. Other accessories are pink bow, gold jewelry, and natural hose.



And a portrait:

More pics on Flickr; one other outfit to show off; and don't forget to choose the prettiest feminized male (details here)!

Dani 1A1

Don't forget to choose the prettiest feminized male (details here)!

Men We'd Love to See Feminized ~ Round Three

This round is going to go on for a while, probably at least until the week after New Year's.

Here's the feminized version of all our semi-finalists:

Warren Beatty

George Clooney

Leonardo diCaprio

Michael J. Fox

Neil Patrick Harris

Ashton Kutcher

Shia LeBeouf

Donny Osmond

Zachary Quinto

Adam Sandler

Wil Wheaton

In the poll to the right, make your pick for the prettiest feminized male.

Men We'd Love to See Feminized ~ Round 2, Week 11 Results

The final winner in this round is Shia LeBeouf:

That makes the eleven going on to the next round:

Warren Beatty
George Clooney
Leonardo diCaprio
Michael J. Fox
Neil Patrick Harris
Ashton Kutcher
Shia Lebeouf
Donny Osmond
Zachary Quinto
Adam Sandler
Wil Wheaton

Plans for Round Three in the next post.

Humiliating Walk

Don't forget to choose who makes the prettier girl (details here)!

Mirror Mantra

Don't forget to choose who makes the prettier girl (details here)!

Saucy Sissy Suzette

I had lived in the Bay area long enough to feel comfortable going out in public en femme, as well as working as a stylist at a very chic, full service hair salon.

Of course, it helped that the salon, The Magic Mirror, was owned by my mistress, Ms. Lillian Lane. It was also frequented by many ladies like herself, who appreciated the feminine side of their lovers, no matter what sex they were.

Ms. Lillian, is a gorgeous Eurasian beauty. Her mother was from Hong Kong and her father, England. Her looks are quite striking. Her jet black hair is done in a shoulder length, blunt cut. She has a slender models figure, and carries herself with the grace of a queen holding court.

Even the ladies who didn't have feminine male lovers, enjoyed the "politically correct" atmosphere of the salon. It was very feminist as well as feminine. Few males ever entered. Any that did, either adjusted to the ultra feminine atmosphere, or didn't stay.

Though opened to the public, Tuesdays through Saturdays 10 AM to 8 PM, special hours were made Sundays and Mondays for the more private clientele. This was especially true for mistresses taking reluctant sissies to the salon. Some pantywaists took quite a long time to adjust to their feminine lifestyle, especially going public in a beauty salon.

For this reason it really surprised me, that, one Tuesday morning, my good friend, Suzette Plechette, came through the door, crying her eyes out, being led by her mistress, Lady Michelle. Suzette was far past her adjustment stage. Normally she loved coming to the salon. In fact, she had adjusted by her second private visit.

On that occasion she had made only a mild scene. She had quickly been disciplined by Lady Michelle. Since then she had been no problem. Therefore, my surprise, at the way she was acting.

Quickly my mistress crooked her finger and motioned for me to come to her. "Take your little sissy friend into my office Prissy. Do calm her down. I'm sure what's troubling her is the cutting and coloring Lady Michelle has planned for her," she informed me.

I knew all about the style and shade, Lady Michelle had planned. I'd been there when she and Ms. Lillian had done the photo imagery. I had to be. I was the stylist chosen to make over my sissy pal.

"Yes ma'am, Lady Lillian," I stated moving quickly towards Suzette. I had seen the appointment in the book. It was quite a bit of time for a cut and color. Apparently my mistress knew the full nature of the services about to be performed. Time must have been set aside for the possibility of disciplinary measures.

Suzette had long, below the shoulders, light brown hair. She was rather in love with the length. On this particular occasion it was done up in a ponytail atop her head. In keeping with her "pony girl" image, it was fixed in a sort of "plumed" effect.

As soon as she saw me she ran ahead of her mistress. To say ran, would be an exaggeration. Dressed as she was, no sissy could actually run. Susu, as I sometimes called her, was attired in this gorgeous mid-thigh, white calfskin skirt, that fit her like a glove. Perched on tall five inch spikes, the best she could do was a very quick mince.

She made quite the sight. Her hands held shoulder high, wrists limp, flapping like a little bird on it's maiden flight. Her waist, a mere hand span, accenting her jiggling pert boobs, and wiggling butt. Her plume bounced like a filly at a dressage competition. She came into my arms squealing the whole time, "Oh Priss- Priss, my sweet, she's going to have my pretty hair cut off!" she practically screamed.

"Oh Susu, puppy love, come to Prissy. We'll go in the office, and talk about it , pumpkin," I said, as I maneuvered her through the amused customers, into the outer room of my mistress's office.

The outer area contains chairs and couches, and serves as a waiting area. Also located there is my desk, where I do my occasional secretarial thing. The sign on my desk reads, Sissy Missy Bouffant, and speaks volumes about me, my mistress and her special clients. Through another door is Miss Lillian's private office, a beauty services area, a massage room, and a discipline area.

"Suzette dear, tell me. Why is she cutting your hair?" I asked.

"Lots of reasons. She wants me to have a new "look" for our fifth anniversary. She's going to show me off at her domme club. She says I spend too much time on my hair. If that's not enough, she claims it gets in the way of my tack when she makes me be her horsy girl," Suzette whined as I dried her tears with a scented, pink handkerchief.

"She even bought this new headpiece for me. It's an all-in-one affair. Plume, bridle, bit, reins, and mane. She says now my real hair won't get in the way when we play "pony girl." Suzette then burst into tears saying, "I don't want to have short hair like , Priscilla!"

This kind of bothered me. Mine was short. Curly also. It came to just below my chin, and was permanently waved on the sides and back. I loved the cute bangs, and the light blond frost color. I got up and looked at myself in the mirror, primping and preening, forgetting all about Suzette.

Just then our mistresses came through the door. We both curtseyed, but they ignored us. They flew past into the next room. They were only in there talking about ten minutes, but it seemed like forever. Finally Miss Lillian peeked out and said, "Both of you come in here. Suzette. Give Priscilla your purse."

We entered the room. Miss Michelle was standing by the lacing bar. My mistress attached a leash to the red velvet collar Susu was wearing. Pulling her towards the lacing bar she said, "This way please, Miss Plechette."

All Suzette could do at this point was cooperate, though she did whine, quite meekly, "Please don't. I'll behave. I'll do anything."

It was all for naught. They fastened her by the wrists to the lacing bar. Then they taped her mouth. While they had me paint a pair of crimson lips on the white tape, her skirt was rolled up and pinned in place. Then her scalloped panty brief was pulled to her knees to expose her plump butt.

While Lady Michelle fastened Suzette's ankles to shackles attached to the floor, my mistress moved me out of the way so Suzette could see her helpless, gagged, self, in the full length mirror in front of her.

"Shell honey," my mistress said using Miss Michele's nickname, "Why don't we have a really fun time?" As she spoke she handed Michele a hairbrush. Then she got a couple of pairs of cotton panties, a jar of cocoa butter creme, two cock rings, and some baby oil out of a drawer.

"What are you thinking about doing, Lilly dear?" Miss Michele asked smiling, beginning to slowly and gently tap Suzette's butt with the hairbrush. She was an expert at spankings. She would carefully build up the discomfort level and hold it there. With Susu gagged, she would merely watch her sissy's eyes and listen to her muffled whimpers.

I was told by Lady Lilly to pin up my black leather mini, and lower my ruffled sissy panties. Then I stood next to Suzette and began to stroke myself with cocoa butter cream. Lady Lillian began to stroke Suzette using baby oil, as Michelle spanked the bound panty waist.

By the time our cocks were engorged, Lady Lilly placed cock rings on both of us, right at the base of our penis. Pulling it tight and severely restricting us both, she rubbed warm love balm on us. Then she sat at her desk and had me sit on her lap.

Miss Michelle then moved to the front of Suzette and zipped the tape off her mouth. Suzette gasped and began pleading as her mistress both spanked her and stroked her sissy penis.

"Oh please Michelle my love. No more. Please? I promise to be your goody two shoes sissy girl forever," she implored.

"Do you now? Are you going to be a good little beauty parlor pansy while Priscilla does your hair?" Michelle asked as she stopped the spanking and began to use two hands to manipulate her Nancy Boy.

As Suzette moaned, "Oh yes dear mistress," My Lady Lilly began to stroke me harder. Soon we both were doing little sissy moans as our mistresses cooed and sang to us. Our mistresses released our cock rings as we both convulsed and shot our sissy creme into the panties within seconds of each other.

I fell from my mistresses lap to the floor and I'm sure Susu would have, had she not been suspended from the corset lacing bar.

After I fixed my skirt and panties, I was made to free Suzette from her bonds. After sitting for a while she adjusted her clothes also, her mistress saying, "Both of you behave. While Suzette has her hair done, Lillian is going to give me a massage."

"If we're not out by the time you're ready to give Suzette her comb out, Priscilla, knock lightly on the door. We may be napping," said Lady Lillian as she took her friend Michelle's hand and led her, smiling, to the massage room.

"Well Susu. Come over here and I'll start your shampoo and color." I said as I fastened a lacy, pink, salon cape over her shoulders.

I made sure I gave her a really relaxing shampoo, hot oil condition, and creme rinse. Before I began to color her hair, I trimmed it up to just above shoulder length. It didn't make any sense to color all her hair when I was going to be cutting it so short.

She didn't seem to mind at all when I told her the color was Midnight Brown by Loreal. "I've been wanting to go darker for a while," she said, adding, "She's having you cut it quite short isn't she?"

I nodded, saying, "A bob. Kind of chin length. Maybe shorter," I said, touching the side of her face.

"That's more like cheek length," she said, only slightly alarmed. The spanking had obviously dampened her resolve.

"Trust me Susu, I know about these things. Your hair grows fast. It will grow back quickly. Besides, I saw the photo imagery. I helped in fact. When Prissy is done with her best sissy friend, Suzette will look, tres fabu," I told her dramatically.

Then I began to color her hair, while she relaxed with her head over the sink. Then having her sit up in the styling chair, I turned her away from the mirror, and began giving her a final cutting and shaping.

She closed her eyes. To take her mind off what was going on, I told her about a sissy fashion show at Club Domme, that I was going to do hair and make up at.

"You should see if you could model there Suzette. You're certainly graceful enough and definitely have the height and figure," I complimented her.

"Thanks, I may ask Miss Michelle. This 'do' you're giving me is definitely avant garde enough for a model," she said, getting a little more cheery by the minute.

By the time I was finished with her cut, the ladies weren't out of the massage room yet. I knocked and got a really dreamy, "We'll be right out Priss, just keep on styling her. Then start her make up," from my mistress.

Next to the massage room was a fair sized "lounge" with a queen bed and vanity dresser. It sounded as if her voice came from there.

I had her turned from the mirror and did her blow dry. I used a light amount of styling gel, and as the hair dried I fluffed it lightly. Then I started on her make up, raising the chair she was seated in and tilting it back, just as I would for a professional model.

I wanted to achieve a real contrast sort of look. Her hair and eyes quite dark, her skin sort of creamy, her lips and cheeks, deep red. When I applied the second coat of Passion Plum lipstick, I knew I had what I wanted.

I then reached in a drawer, removing two butterfly barrettes and a pair of dangling, two and a half inch long crystal earrings. "These are from Michelle," I said as I attached the butterflies to either side of her head just above her ears. The earrings added to the sensational look.

"Close your eyes Suzette," I said as I helped her to her feet and walked her to the full length mirror. "Open wide princess and behold your beauty!" I exclaimed.

She was stunning and she knew it! Her eyes first opened wide in surprise and then her painted mouth. Her hands went to her nearly black, cheek length hair. She began to smile, primp and preen and look back at me, at the mirror and the massage room door, as if she couldn't wait for Michelle to see her.

See her, Michelle did. As she and my Lillian came refreshed from the massage room, Michelle stopped and whistled, saying, "Now there is someone I can't wait to see in a formal French maids uniform. Come here sugar puss. Mistress wants to check you out more closely."

Suzette sashayed proudly towards her mistress, smiling, her exaggerated sexy models walk telling everyone she loved the way she looked. "Oh Mademoiselle Michelle, your Suzette feels just so tres glam. Will you take her to lunch and show her off? Please my love? Please do? I want the world to see me!" she gestured, twirling, her arms opened wide.

Michelle laughed, "You little minx! All the fussing and crying and now you're in love with yourself. Sissies are impossible! Aren't they Lillian?" My mistress agreed, laughing and shaking her head also.

Throughout lunch, Suzette prattled on about her salon trip, the new Mercedes she and Michelle had purchased, and of course their upcoming anniversary. I mentioned the fashion show. Suzette couldn't keep from looking at herself in her compact mirror. The pair was also shopping for a new home and Susu couldn't keep from mentioning how she didn't want a really large place.

"I mean, what's a girl to do? Large homes are just so hard to keep clean," she stated, speaking to me with her hands in the air, but glancing at Michelle for her reaction. Michelle's reaction was forthcoming very quickly.

"Oh, I don't know. Would you like me to hire you your own personal sissy maid? Maybe a well trained one from one of the schools. That way you could be like one of those Valley Sissies. Drive around all day, shopping for clothes, doing lunch and having your hair done," Michelle added to my mistress's amusement, and Suzette's chagrin.

"By the way Suzette. I want you to enter that fashion show. There's quite a few prizes involved," Michelle said smiling.

The day of the show Suzette looked both, fabu and glam. Good enough to come away with one of the really neat prizes. She showed off her plumed pony girl headpiece to perfection. Michelle was so thrilled, she purchased Susu her own personal set of pink baby clothes.

One of the merchants at the show, Panty Paradise, had a really fine collection of sissy baby, and little girl stuff. After much discussion on the merits of age regression, Lady Lillian purchased a complete Shirley Temple ensemble. As busy as I was, doing the models hair she had me try it on anyway. It fit so well, she had me wear it during the rest of the show.

Michelle and Susu are still looking for their new place. Susu would love to have lots of woods and pasture to play pony girl in. Recently, Lady Lillian has hired a new secretary named Duane. He's really cute, with long blonde hair and pretty bangs. The other day I saw her get him to try on a pair of 2 inch heels. She convinced him he'd "fit in better" at the salon. He told her he "loved" the way the shoes made his legs look, especially with the pink hot pants she'd bought for him.

I wonder? What's the feminine form of Duane? Denise?



The End

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Virginia Sissy-Slims

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Too Young?

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Men We'd Love to See Feminized ~ Round 2, Week 11

Who makes the prettier girl?

Shia LaBeouf?

or Christopher Meloni?

Vote in the poll to the right!

Men We'd Love to See Feminized ~ Round 2, Week 10 Results

In a shut-out, your choice for the prettier girl is Ashton Kutcher.

Lick It Good

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The Corset Shop, Part Three

The following week was the happiest of my life. After handing in my notice at the office, Margaret suggested I help her out on a part time basis at the salon. I agreed immediately and soon settled in to my new career as a trainee beautician. I got on surprisingly well with the other young women and, despite my inexperience, managed to join in with their endless chatter about fashion, makeup and men. I adopted a new name too and ‘Michelle’ was soon just another pretty girl on the team. I covered for Margaret in the lingerie shop whenever she took lunch and, along with a comfortable salary, I received a generous discount on cosmetics and clothes.

I spent most of my money on acquiring a new wardrobe and my social life improved immeasurably. I went out with Margaret and the girls every night that week, enjoying their company in bars or night-clubs and, as the week progressed, my confidence grew. I loved meeting new people and, more importantly, I was unconsciously picking up feminine social skills from the others. In no time at all, I found that I could politely avoid the attentions of older men and yet still signal my interest to the younger ones I found more attractive. I flirted outrageously but, just as Margaret had warned me, my curiosity eventually got the better of me and, on Friday at the end of the week, I finally gave my phone number to Mark, a handsome construction worker whose rugged good looks and easy charm seemed to reduce my legs to jelly whenever I spoke to him.

We went out together the following day for a walk in the local park where he was forced to hold my hand over the rough ground due to my impractical stiletto heels. We had lunch and, after three or four glasses of wine, kissing him seemed like the most natural thing in the world. I knew that we couldn’t go any further without arousing his suspicion and so, despite the mounting frustrations of my body, I managed to let him down gently and so avoid any difficulties over my true sexuality but this was obviously not an ideal solution. I vowed to ask Margaret if anything could be done to avoid this problem in the future as I desperately wanted our relationship to continue and it was only a matter of time before he demanded more intimate contact. I barely noticed how much I must have changed to actually enjoy the physical attentions of another man but the question seemed unimportant compared to the wonderful feelings Mark aroused in me.

Unbelievably, I had almost forgotten about Sandy during this heady week of discovery. She was supposed to be coming home the next day and I could hardly greet her at the door in a short skirt and heels to tell her about my new boyfriend. I spent Saturday night in tears, trying to think of a way out of my terrible predicament. I eventually called Margaret for advice and she suggested I meet her at the shop for a friendly chat. When I arrived, I tried to explain what I was going through, the awful responsibility I now had for my wife’s future happiness and the decision I obviously had to make in just a few hours time.

"Sleep Michelle." Margaret commanded. "And I’ll make everything much easier for you."

I felt my eyes begin to close as Margaret’s voice lulled me once again into a deep hypnotic trance. I remember an injection, more of the feminising hormones that Margaret had been supplying me with, some vague instructions and then nothing. I woke the following morning in my own bed unable to recall anything of our conversation but feeling much better and also strangely calm.

I felt compelled to dress and, that morning, I took special care over my appearance, wearing my most fetishistic heels and my most revealing latex dress in order to convince Sandy of my total commitment to my new life. I applied my cosmetics and, despite my own bobbed black hair, I chose a long blond wig to further emphasise my femininity. The dress was a gloss black design made of sleek rubber with a flared skirt and delicate shoulder straps which showed off my cleavage to perfection. As the hem was so short, I had worn a latex thong for the first time and this, along with the suggestive bondage ankle straps of my outrageous platform shoes, could only send one message to anyone who saw me. I smiled in anticipation.

I turned around in surprise hearing a sound behind me. Sandy had obviously let herself in and was now staring in shocked disbelief at the scene before her.

"Richard. Is that you?" she stammered. "What are you doing? Why are you dressed like this? What’s been going on?"

"I’m called Michelle now." I corrected her as she began to cry. "And there’s so much I need to tell you."

____________________________________________

I spent an hour or so applying cosmetics in the dressing table mirror. I had decided on heavy makeup for the evening and I wanted to impress. My eyelids were covered in smouldering burnt shades and, beneath the fine crescents of my brows, the effect was stunning. My features had softened so much with Margaret’s feminising hormones, I barely recognised myself anymore. My glossed crimson lips parted in a soft smile as I admired my handiwork. The solitary stud in my nose, glistened as my mouth settled back into its now familiar sultry pout. After coating my lashes in jet-black mascara, I was finally ready. Standing up in my seven-inch heels, I rose unsteadily from the chair.

Sandy was waiting for me impatiently in the living room. I had been surprised at first by her willingness to meet with Margaret to discover the truth behind my radical transformation but Margaret had been more than happy to discuss things with her. She had only been gone a few hours but, when she finally returned, she seemed much happier about everything. I don’t know what Margaret told her but, when Sandy came back to the house, she had not only accepted my burgeoning femininity but had made some changes to her own appearance as well. I smiled, gazing at her with undisguised pride. She looked great with her hair dyed black and, now that she was strictly corseted, her figure was fantastic. She creaked as she stood up to take her first teetering steps in the towering stiletto heels she was now so keen to wear.

"How on earth can you walk in these Michelle?" she asked quietly. "They look fantastic but they’re really not that practical."

I laughed.

"They’re not supposed to be practical." I chided her. "At least not in the sense you mean but they say something about the woman who’s wearing them."

"Are you suggesting I’m a tart?" Sandy grinned. "In such a conservative dress."

I looked at the figure-hugging ankle-length dress she was wearing. Latex suited her and, despite my surprise at her enthusiasm for the tactile material after her session with Margaret, I had been more than happy to find her something in my wardrobe. Sandy looked fantastic in rubber and, even though I no longer found her attractive in any physical way, I knew that Mark’s friends would definitely enjoy meeting her at the club that evening.

"Are you ready?" I asked, interrupting her languid exploration of her glistening body. "We should go. I can’t wait for you to meet my new boyfriend."



Sandy smiled and, placing her arm around my waist, we stepped out into the street, two beautiful rubberised women looking forward to their dates.



THE END

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The Corset Shop, Part Two

The following week was difficult but relatively uneventful. Sandy did not comment on my radically plucked eyebrows and she cannot have noticed the depilation of my legs. I managed to find excuses to leave for work later than Sandy and I used this time to maintain the smoothness of my skin and even managed to buy some creams from a local chemist to apply to my face morning and night but my wife’s presence was an effective barrier to my growing need for some sort of feminine release. I coped okay for the first few days but I was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the bags in the hall closet. It wasn’t long before I called in sick to spend a day at home on my own and, after an hour or so of futile self analysis, I hungrily tipped my collection of feminine garments onto the bed and succumbed to the temptations of white lacy underwear and glamorous high heels for the second time.

The first thing I discovered was a note signed by ‘Margaret’ and I smiled realising that this was the first time the shopkeeper had actually used her name. The note listed the contents of the bags and, as I read the tiny handwriting, I could not hide my disappointment at how little she had let me take from the shop. There was an exquisite blond wig, an incredibly tight corset and some underwear but no makeup and no outer clothes at all. Even the shoes, beautiful as they were, were rather flat compared to the pair I had been fitted a few days earlier. However, I sent the rest of the day wandering around the house in delicate underwear, stockings and suspenders and my pretty patent leather shoes, enjoying the freedom of being able to wear the long blond wig without fear of being caught. It was a fantastic day and, despite the limitations of my wardrobe, I knew that I wanted more. Later that evening, my prayers were answered as Sandy announced that she had to go away with the Managing Director for two weeks to accompany him on a conference. Despite the fact that I knew the lecherous old man had designs on my wife, I could barely contain my enthusiasm for her forthcoming trip. Three days later she was gone and, at last, I had the house to myself.

On the first day after she left, a package arrived for me in the post and I opened it eagerly. I was not expecting anything and I was surprised to discover that Margaret had sent me a small gift. Nestling amongst the crumpled tissue paper was another note and, to my amazement, a pair of wonderful silicone breasts. As I read the now familiar handwriting, I felt my eyes glaze over. Some indeterminate time later I found myself in town, credit card in hand, wandering in a daze from shop to shop. I hardly registered what I was buying but somehow, by the end of the day, I had acquired cosmetics, jewellery and a new pair of outrageously high-heeled shoes and some decidedly kinky thigh-length boots. My taste in clothes seemed to centre on the gloss PVC designs that Margaret had introduced me to in her shop but, unable to find a suitable ladies retailer and too embarrassed to visit Margaret again, I found a shop selling leather skirts and jackets. Somehow overcoming my unease about buying women’s clothing, I had soon acquired my first real outfit.

That afternoon, safely back in the security of my home, I carefully applied the depilatory creams to my body and cleansed my face in preparation for my new cosmetics. I wasn’t really sure what drove me but the urge to put on makeup could not be denied and it wasn’t long before I sat down at Sandy’s dressing table and began the unfamiliar task of applying foundation and eyeshadow. I was clumsy at first but, once I had perfected my eyes, the rest of my face seemed to follow naturally. I used blusher for the first time to highlight my cheeks and brushed on the deepest vermilion lipstick I could find. I sealed my lips with a rich gloss and then carefully glued long false lashes to my lids. Looking in the mirror, I could see that I had already developed some skill with my new cosmetics and, once my clip-on earrings were in place, the effect was astonishing. The wig was next and, once it was on, I pouted coquettishly at my reflection. The wig suited me and I was going to enjoy being a vivacious blond for the rest of the day.

Once corseted and happy with my underwear, I placed the silicone breasts into the welcoming support of my bra and my figure took on the curvaceous shape that I now desired. Over this attractive female figure, my tight leather skirt, crisp white blouse and figure-hugging leather jacket looked fantastic and I spent the rest of the day in a daze. The day-to-day business of cooking and cleaning in my home took on a whole new meaning once I was dressed, every glimpse of my manicured nails and feminine figure filled me with pleasure. I felt completely relaxed, more at ease with my body than I had ever felt before.

This enjoyable routine continued for the next three days. I would wake early, shower and cleanse my skin before dressing in my increasingly familiar leather outfit. I slowly grew accustomed to seeing my feminine form in the mirror and it soon seemed perfectly normal to be wearing stiletto-heeled leather boots and a short leather skirt. My previous masculine existence seemed like a distant memory as I grew progressively more attached to my female persona. I had even taking to reading Sandy’s romantic novels to pass the time as I enjoyed the simple pleasures of wandering around my home dressed as a glamorous attractive woman. That afternoon though, everything changed.

It was 3 O’clock when the phone rang; I recall the time exactly for some reason but the voice on the line was not my wife’s as I had been expecting.

"How are you getting on Richard?" Margaret asked me, her voice crackling on the line. "I assume that you’re dressed."

"Yes I am." I stammered. "My wife has had to go away for a while…"

"Good." Margaret interrupted me. "I think its time for the next stage of your transformation to begin. Have you been brave enough to venture outside dressed yet?"

"Good god no." I exclaimed. "It’s hard enough overcoming my embarrassment at home never mind…"

"Sleep Richard." The voice commanded. "Just relax and listen to my voice."

As I cradled the receiver, I knew exactly what I had to do. I did not have a great deal of time but I quickly changed into a longer leather skirt and then pulled a matching leather vest over my pert breasts and radically narrowed waist. I had to wear stockings and suspenders of course and, once I was satisfied that everything looked okay, I slipped my feet into my new patent leather court shoes, enjoying the elevation of their 6-inch heels as I walked as gracefully as I could manage across to the mirror to check my hair. Satisfied, I finally steeled myself before opening the front door of the house. I hesitated for a moment but Margaret’s implanted suggestions spurred me on and, before I knew what was happening, I found myself wandering along the street towards the bus station.

The journey passed in a daze. I blushed as a group of men shouted across the road, commenting rudely on my appearance but, rather than being angered by the attention, I actually felt flattered. I barely noticed as my gait took on a cute wiggle after the encounter. Somehow, I must have managed to raise the pitch of my voice as I bought my ticket because the bus driver barely raised an eyebrow as I found myself a seat on his mercifully empty bus. Shaking with fear and, though I hate to admit it, excitement I somehow completed my journey relatively unscathed. By the time I arrived at Margaret’s salon, I was breathless after the thrill of my first public appearance as a woman. I felt so relieved to have actually ‘passed’ for the first time, I barely winced as the assistant pierced my ears. Five minutes later, I was wearing beautiful gold rings in my ears and, more surprisingly, a tiny diamond stud in the soft folds of my upturned nose.

After this more permanent feminisation of my features, Margaret took me to a quieter area of her salon and explained what the next stage of my transformation would involve. I listened attentively and, once I had heard the key post-hypnotic word, my resistance simply faded away. As Margaret continued, once more lulling me into a deeply suggestible state, I found myself impatient to continue with my profound feminisation.

"You have clearly become quite an enthusiastic crossdresser over the last few weeks." She said matter-of-factly. "And you clearly enjoy acting out your feminine role."

I nodded, trying desperately to keep my eyes open as Margaret’s voice soothed away my doubts.

"After today’s session however, you will graduate from simple crossdressing to the next phase of your training. You will soon be a dedicated transvestite Richard, living and dressing as far as possible just like a real woman. We will do everything we can to assist you in your transformation of course; supply you with suitably glamorous clothes and you have already had your ears and nose pierced. I’m sure the girls in the salon can come up with a makeover more in keeping with your burgeoning female sexuality and it shouldn’t be too difficult fitting you with some more permanent breast-forms."

My imagination was already filling with enticing images of what would be done to my body and I felt my glossed lips part in a wan smile as I anticipated the radical changes which would soon overtake me.

"I think its time we added a sexual element to your transformation as well." Margaret continued. "Your enjoyment has been quite innocent so far but you will have noticed already how men react to you. I don’t think there would be anything wrong in conditioning you to flirt a little and, given your wife’s obvious lack of interest in the bedroom department, it’s only a matter of time before you eventually succumb to some young man’s attentions."

Margaret paused, letting this new information sink in before she continued.

"We’ll undress you in a minute or so and see what we can do about hiding your more obvious masculine features. Your new breasts will be attached with surgical glue and to all intents and purposes they will be identical to the real thing. We’ll do some electrolysis on your legs and face and I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t get you out of wigs and just give your own hair a touch of colour and a more suitable style. We’ll start you on hormones too and even though they will render you quite impotent, they should accelerate the feminisation of the rest of your body so I’m sure you won’t regret your decision to take them."

I took the pen that Margaret handed to me and signed the forms obediently without even reading the writing that swam in front of my eyes. One hour later with my flaccid penis tucked neatly into an elaborate cache-sex and my new cleavage jutting provocatively from a tight latex top, I was ushered back into the salon where the hairdresser was waiting to totally re-style my hair. The beautician had already worked her magic on my face and, with the tiny diamond glistening dangerously in my freshly pierced nose, I knew that I now looked almost unbelievably attractive. With dark arching brows and incredibly heavy eye makeup, my features smouldered in the mirror, promising a sexuality that I still did not truly understand. As I sat down, Margaret’s other intimate gift reminded me of new sensations that I was already being conditioned into accepting. The humiliation of being ‘plugged’ for the first time filled me with trepidation but there was something else too, something dark and thrilling, a forbidden pleasure that was already growing increasingly gratifying. I shuddered in anticipation as I lowered my buttocks carefully into the soft leather of the chair and waited for the hairdresser to begin.

The procedure had not really taken a great deal of time. In reality, my transformation from amateur drag queen to sultry latex diva had been accomplished in less than 4 hours and, with Margaret’s help, I was already beginning to enjoy my new looks and obvious attractiveness. There was no denying the radical nature of my metamorphosis; my appearance exuded sexual availability but I no longer cared. I felt safe behind the gloss armour of my latest outfit and, given the quality of my new breasts, rubber was the most flattering of materials. My hair had been razor cut into a jet-black bob which framed and enhanced my ever-softening features and my cosmetics had been applied beautifully. My dark eyes smouldered beneath lashings of mascara and kohl. As I gazed vainly in the mirror, I could barely contain my gratitude for what Margaret and her colleagues had accomplished. My nemesis had already implanted the seeds of new desires in my fertile subconscious and, when Margaret suggested that we all go out to a local club to celebrate, I did not hesitate. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the effect I would have on the male population but I was already desperate to meet a handsome young man and discover for myself exactly how powerful my attraction would be.

TO BE CONTINUED

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