Scuffed Shoes

Sissy Heels

Nylons in Dear Abby

I usually keep the all-text items to Tuesdays, but this showed up in my paper yesterday and I didn't want to leave it for another week. From Dear Abby:

DEAR ABBY: I'm having difficulty understanding my husband's obsession with pantyhose. When we met 10 years ago, he explained to me during a phone conversation that he liked wearing pantyhose and nylon stockings. He's not an outward cross-dresser. His obsession is limited to simply wearing nylon. I accepted his eccentricities and we have shared a wonderful 10 years together. Advertisement I love him more than you can imagine. I admire his honesty with me from the beginning of our relationship. I mean, how many men would tell an almost complete stranger he's hoping to date that he enjoys wearing nylons? I have respected his honesty, but as of late, his obsession is bothering me. What do I do? -- ANNOYED IN MICHIGAN

DEAR ANNOYED: You can adjust your thinking for the purpose of not destroying an otherwise wonderful 10-year relationship. Some men, like your husband, enjoy the sensation of nylon against their skin. As you probably already know, it doesn't affect their intimate relationship with their partners. The person with the "obsession" may be you, not him. If this is your husband's only "snag," thank your higher power and concentrate on all the things you love about him that make him unique.

Stockings were one of the first things I wore back in my younger days. I still love the way my legs look and feel encased in sheer nylon.

Just Perfect

Marvin to Marilyn

Maybe Marvin shouldn’t have gone to the cabaret performance at all. Definitely he shouldn’t have reacted to the bevy of busty showgirls quite the way he did—especially with his wife sitting right beside him, glaring. And very definitely, he should not have volunteered for the hypnotist’s act that followed, no matter how much his wife insisted.

If he hadn’t done any of that, he might not be in this situation now. He was slowly coming back to consciousness, his mind still a bit unfocused and, as he sat up, he felt an unusual weight on his chest. He looked down and realized he couldn’t see his lap. Something was in the way—something large and heavy, that moved when he did. It didn’t just move, it bounced. He reached up to touch it and got a little thrill of arousal as he did.

Now, with his eyes and mind fully aware, he knew what it was. It was an enormous pair of tits, easily C cups, firmly attached to his chest. He felt their every movement. He reacted as if they were truly part of him. And still, he couldn’t resist touching them, teasing them.

“So, you like having knockers, do you?” His wife’s voice came to him from his left and he turned to see her sitting on the other side of the room, next to a stunningly attractive redhead in a figure-hugging gown. It was the hypnotist, who went by the name Madame Fabricantfille.

“Of course, he does, Julie,” the performer replied. “He’s the biggest breast fetishist I’ve ever worked with…and all men with a thing for boobs really want a pair for themselves! That’s why it’s so easy to make them believe the tits I give them are real!”

Marvin’s eyes went wide in shock. “You, you did this to me?” Even then, he couldn’t stop enjoying the feel of those massive mammaries. “Why?”

“Because Julie requested it,” she answered. “You see, that’s why I always work with that troupe of showgirls—they make it easy to spot the guys in the audience who are ripe for becoming one of my male bimbos. By the way, about half of those sexy dancers are just like you—seems some of them just beg to be displayed that way. I wonder—are you one of those?”

“What? No—no, I’m not!” Marvin protested.

Julie chuckled in response. “The hell you’re not,” she said. “I’ve watched you play with your nipples—they’re your most erogenous zone except for your cock!”

“When I’m done with him,” Madame Fab said, “that will be somewhat reversed. He won’t be able to climax unless his tits are being stimulated. Speaking of which, it’s time to get started.” She moved closer and looked Marvin right in the eyes. “Sleepy-bye, Marvin.” And he dropped back into trance.

Madame Fab went to a dresser and pulled out a waist-cinch. “Let’s get him into this, so the rest of his figure matches those enormous knockers. Stand up, Marvin,” she commanded. Deep in trance, Marvin obeyed. The two women wrapped the cinch around him and began pulling it tight. “We should be able to take him down to 30 inches with this,” the hypnotist said. “That will be a good beginning. Once we get him on a diet and proper training, I’m sure we can lose another six inches.”

“He already looks incredibly sexy,” Julie noted. “Those tits bouncing around and his pathetic sissy-cock hanging loose…

“He’ll be even sexier when we get him in some proper feminine attire,” Madame assured her. “Here, let’s get these nylons on his legs and attached to the garter straps on his waist-cinch.” She gently pushed Marvin back to a sitting position and Julie slid the sheer hose up his legs. “Oh, and here’s a thong panty to go with it all. Fortunately, he’s not very hairy,” Madame commented.

“That was one of the things that attracted me to him from the beginning,” Julie admitted. “He didn’t know I was bi-sexual and wanted a lover who could satisfy all my requirements.”

“Well, you’ll certainly get that now,” Madame Fab said. “Have you ever had him service you orally?”

“No….but I certainly will in the future!”

 “Good for you!” Madame looked around. “He needs an appropriate pair of shoes. Check the closet, you should find something suitable.” Julie did so and came back with a pair of red patent stiletto pumps. “Oh, marvelous! Come-fuck-me shoes if I ever saw them!” Together they worked on getting the sexy shoes on Marvin’s feet and then helped him to stand in them.

“Marvin, you are now wearing the most beautiful, sexiest shoes you have ever seen,” Madame told him. “Show us how you would walk in them.” Marvin began to stride around the room, surprisingly easily, his steps confident, with a decided wiggle to his hips and ass. “My goodness, he’s a natural! You’re sure he’s never tried wearing heels before?”

“I really don’t know,” Julie answered. “Why don’t we ask him—he has to tell us the truth, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he certainly does,” the hypnotist acknowledged. “Marvin, you walk in those shoes like you’ve worn them all your life. Tell me, is this the first time you’ve worn high heels?”

In a dull monotone, the hypnotized, half-feminized man responded. “No…I often tried on my sister’s heels when I was in high school. I thought she looked so sexy in them I wanted to see how they felt. I got quite good at walking in them.”

“I should say you did,” Madame said. “Well. Julie, It appears you have stumbled upon a natural sissy!”

“And wasn’t I lucky that I did?” Julie replied, smiling. “Now what? Shall we get him into a dress?”

“Not quite yet, I think,” Madame said. “It’s best if we get his face looking as girlish as the rest of him, first.” She spoke to the budding sissy. “Go sit at my vanity, Marvin.” When he had complied, she began to apply the necessary cosmetics. “I’ve done this dozens of times before—and on men who were far less feminine in appearance than Marvin, so I know exactly what’s required.” She started with foundation and then went to contouring, defining his cheeks and nose. The next step was trimming his eyebrows into a feminine arch, followed by eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, and false lashes. Next was blush and the final touch: lipstick and gloss to shape his mouth into a perfect cupid’s bow.

“How about a wig?” Julie asked.

“Not yet—I want him to see how girlish he looks even with short, mannish hair.” She turned him toward the mirror and snapped her fingers. SNAP!

With that, Marvin’s now thoroughly feminine eyes fluttered open and his red, moist lips opened in an “O” of surprise. “I’m a girl!” he cried.

“No, sweetie, you’re a sissy,” Julie corrected him. “You’re my sissy…and soon you’ll be my little lezzy wife, as well!” As that exchange went on, Madame Fab had gone to the wardrobe and retrieved a dress—but what a dress! It was tiny and low-cut, designed to cling to every curve—and it was scarlet red, to match his shoes.

“The dress has a built-in push-up bra,” Madame noted, “so we won’t need to restrict the movement of those incredible knockers any more than necessary!” She beckoned to the feminized male and he came to her. She gathered the dress and dropped it over his head, smoothing it over his body as it fell. Marvin wriggled with sexual pleasure as her hands lingered over his nipples, his sissy-cock and his ass. “You like that, eh?” she asked. “You truly are a natural sissy!”

Marvin blushed and admitted it. “Yes, I guess I am…I feel so comfortable and happy this way.”

 

“Awash in sissy bliss,” Madame agreed. “Julie, there’s an assortment of wigs in that cabinet. Choose the one you think is appropriate.” Julie went and looked, finding hair colors from black to brown to auburn to red to platinum blonde and styles from curly pixie cuts to 1980s “big hair”. She came back with a golden blonde style that fell past the shoulders. She fitted and adjusted it and then let him see the final product.

“All we need now is a proper name for our feminized man,” Madame said. “As his wife, I leave his re-christening to you.”

Julie took a step back and examined her creation, like a female Pygmalion inspecting her Galatea. “Hmmm—with that figure and the blonde hair, what could be more appropriate than Marilyn?” she suggested.

“Excellent!” Madame agreed. And as she did, Julie beckoned her to come closer.

“I have a final request,” she whispered. “Could you….?”

“Of course, my dear…I’m sure you’ll both enjoy it!”

EPILOG:

That evening, Julie and Marilyn were preparing for bed—Julie in a figure-hugging satin gown and Marilyn in a revealing baby-doll nightie. Julie lay back on the bed, pulled up her gown and spread her legs suggestively. “Marilyn,” she said seductively, “pussy pleasure….”

Marilyn’s eyes glazed over and her sissy-cock enlarged in the thong of her baby-doll. She crawled onto the bed and buried her face in Julie’s crotch, eagerly using her lips and tongue to bring her wife to arousal. “Mmmmm….very nice, Marilyn….but remember, no spurting cock-cream until I say so.”

THE END

 

 

 

 

Archelle: Flirting Instructions

Top Heavy and Happy

A Nephew's Success

Hypno-Session: Seductive Dragon Doll

On Wednesday, I had the first meeting with Mistress Lola in several weeks, one in which she answered my request to become an exotic, erotic figure of intrigue and sensuality. The trance-script is here.

Retro Office

Good Girl!

Always Thrilling

Hannah McKnight explains why dressing girly is always exciting:

... I absolutely love and aspire to look as cute and as femme as possible. Although a girl doesn’t have to have a certain shape, I love the hourglass figure a tightly cinched corset gives me. I love wearing cute heels that match my outfit perfectly. I live for the cupid bow on my lips, the seductive look false eyelashes give. I love sexy lingerie under my dress. I love it all.

Although I don’t really know WHY I am wired the way I am, I do know WHY I wanted to wear what I wear all those years ago. When I was young I was simply fascinated by beautiful lingerie, I imagined it would be (and it is!) so much fun to wear a dress. I was drawn to this beautiful and in a way, forbidden, world and jumped in as soon as I had the chance. Trying on my sister’s dress, the first time I wore a bra, the new perspective that stilettos gave me (I was so tall!).

No matter how many times I go out en femme, no matter how many dresses I own, no matter how many makeovers I have, I still get that thrill, that joy, that happiness that I had the very first time I did, well, any of this. I’ll never get used to this, I’ll never get bored. The thrill will never be gone. And I know you know what I mean.

I do what I do, and I wear what I wear because, well, I have to. I can’t ignore, deny, or repress this side of me. I must acknowledge and accept and embrace who I am. To do anything less would chip away at my soul (wow, that sounds dramatic but it’s true). But I do what I do, and wear what I wear because I absolutely love this world, this beautiful world of delicate lingerie, skyscraper stilettos, beautiful gowns, and flawless makeup. I love who I am and I love who you are too.

Archelle: Being Bimboized

More Training Needed

Full Bimbo Mode

No Objections

Revelations

 

Girly, Girly, Girly--part two

 

A short time later, Liz led Morgan though the mall to the luxury cosmetics store. “Are we buying makeup here?” he asked.

 

“Eventually,” she responded. She walked up to one of the cosmeticians offering makeovers. “Are you accepting walk-ups?”

 

“Why, sure honey,” the woman answered. “Though you don’t look like you need one.”

 

“Thank you, but it’s not for me—it’s for my friend here,” Liz said and pushed Morgan forward.

 

The cosmetician looked him over. “Well, she’s got nice features and….” she paused and smiled. “I mean, he’s got nice features! Is this for a costume party or something?”

 

“No,” Liz replied. “But my boyfriend is a crossdresser and he needs some help at looking his feminine best.” She guided Morgan to the stool and helped him sit. Then she looked him in the eyes and said, “Girly girly girly….” His eyelids fluttered and he dropped into trance. “Now, Morgan, I want you to watch everything this nice lady…” she checked the namebadge…”Tiffany does and remember it. You’ll have to do this for yourself from now on.” Liz spoke again to the cosmetician. “I promise you we will purchase at least one of everything you use on him.”

It took over an hour for Tiffany to accomplish the effect she wanted. Morgan’s face was remade into a truly feminine one—thanks to eyebrow sculpting, contouring and careful application of color. While that was happening, Liz had a conversation with the store manager. “Can you recommend a place here in the mall to get my friend a nice wig?”

 

“Certainly, miss,” the manager replied. “We often send our customers to Hair Apparent. I’m afraid it’s all the way at the other end of the mall, though.”

 

“Not a problem; I’m sure my friend won’t mind showing off the wonderful makeover your Tiffany has given…her,” Liz responded, smiling. She rejoined Morgan who was still deep in trance. “Morning Morgan!” And with that, Morgan awakened and saw his new look in the mirror.

 

“Oh! Oooooohhhhhhh,” he moaned, as the sight of his thoroughly feminized face brought him to full arousal. That was followed by a smile of delight.

 

“Now, do you remember everything Tiffany did to achieve this new you?” Liz asked him.

 

“Yes, I do,” Morgan answered. “And I’m quite sure I could duplicate it.”

 

“Good girl!” Liz said, grabbing his arm. “Now, come along—we have another stop to make and it’s at the far end of the mall!”

 

“You mean….I’ll have to walk all that way, in my dress and heels and with my new look?” Morgan asked. When Liz shook her head to say yes, he grinned. “Then what are we waiting for?”

 

They strolled together through the mall, with Morgan getting more than a few intrigued looks from passersby. After all, he appeared to be a tall, flat-chested woman in full makeup, but with a male hairstyle. More than one shopper paused and whispered something to a companion and once Morgan distinctly heard the word “sissy”. At that, he confidently walked up to the pair and said, in a decidedly masculine tone: “Yes, I’m a sissy, that’s my girlfriend who is feminizing me…and I’m perfectly happy with it.”

 

Without further encounters, they arrived at Hair Apparent, where Morgan was awed by the many styles and colors available. “Honey, I want you to be completely surprised by your final look, so—girly girly girly.” And Morgan returned to his trance state, while Liz spoke to the sales person. “As you can no doubt tell, my friend here is a male being feminized by me. I’d like to try out a few styles on him—nothing outlandish, just something close to his own color and complementary to his face.”

 

“Of course, Miss,” the attendant said. “Have him take a seat and I’ll bring out a few selections.” A few moments later, she returned with a half-dozen wigs on stands. “I think a medium brown shade is the best match to his own hair and to his natural coloring,” she said, “and I would recommend a chin-length cut for his face shape.”

 

“Well, let me see them on him and we’ll make a choice…or, rather, I will,” Liz said, laughing. Of the six styles, one was rejected as too dark, one as too light, one as too long, and one as too short and boyish. That left two that Liz couldn’t decide between. “I tell you what,” she said. “Why don’t I allow Morgan to make the final choice?” She looked him in the eye and said, “Morning Morgan.”

 

His eyes fluttered as he came out of trance. “Liz, where am I and what are we doing?” he asked.

“We’re in the wig store, choosing a style and color for you,” she replied. “I’ve narrowed it to these two…but I can’t decide which I like more, so I’m leaving it to you.” She nodded to the salesperson. “Try the first one and let him see it.” Just moments later, Morgan saw himself for the first time in full makeup and with a feminine hairstyle.

 

He smiled. “I look very pretty and very girlish,” he said. “I like this one.”

 

“I thought you would,” Liz agreed. “But do you like it more than the other one.” And the salesperson switched out the wigs and let Morgan see the result.

 

 “Wow! I don’t know—they’re both just so lovely,” Morgan gushed. “I can’t decide…..”

 

“Then we’ll get them both; if nothing else, it will give you some options for when your hair is long enough for us to get it done at a salon,” Liz said.

 

A salon? Morgan thought…and his sissy-cock twitched at the thought. I wonder if that means curlers and a perm. I hope so!

 

With Morgan now looking like a proper lady, Liz led the way to the car and then home. She went directly to Morgan’s bedroom and began going through the remainder of his feminine wardrobe. She pulled dresses, blouses and skirts out and made two piles. “This will work…this won’t…yes…no…definitely no…oh, yes, beautiful!” she said as she went through the clothing. Finally, she ended up with a pile of rejects considerably larger than the pile of “keepers”.

“Really, Morgan,” she said. “Did you really think some of these things were attractive on you? Or befitting a submissive sissy? Come here, let’s get you into a couple of the ones I’ve chosen and you can see what I mean.” The first choice was a pink crop-top over an aquamarine a-line skirt. “Do you see how this simply floats?” she asked him. “This is how a sissy dresses. In the most feminine of styles.”

 

The second choice was even more girlish: a floral print frock in pastels, with cap sleeves and a skirt that ended well above mid-thigh. “I see you like this look,” Liz said, as she watched a smile grow on his face. “Just a touch little girly, and a bit sexy as well.” Morgan blushed as he realized how much she had accurately read his reaction.

 

She watched him move about the room and came to a decision. “Morgan—girly girly girly…,” she said and watched as he sank into trance. “I can’t keep calling you Morgan—not when you look so utterly femme! From now on, your name is….let me see…oh, yes, Margo! Do you like that?”

 

The newly christened sissy was smiled. “Yes, Liz, I like that very much! Margo…Margo….Margo….”

 

“Good girl!” Liz exclaimed. “Tomorrow we’ll go to the jewelers and get you a locket and an ID bracelet…and maybe even a nice ankle bracelet…with your new name on them!” She lay back on the bed. “Now, come here, I think I deserve a reward for helping you become the sissy you were always meant to be.” She spread her legs. “Time for your first lesson in really pleasing a woman!”