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 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."
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."
"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."
"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.
Don't forget to choose who makes the prettier girl (details here) and also choose which version of my eyes you prefer (details here)!