Sunday, August 31, 2008

Gender Jumble, Conclusion

Book Four: Pollyanna


The last group of coeds met in Tasha Foreman's office just a month before the end of the term.

"Kurt Schaffenberger is the last of our little guinea pigs," she told them, "and I understand that, in his case, 'pig' is a very good description."

"Yeah, he's the worst male chauvinist I've ever met," said Gracie Fox.

"He treats every woman as if she's a little girl," Dorrie Heck agreed.

"That's what I'd heard," Tasha nodded. "Now, let me tell you what I have planned for Kurt."

Later that day, Kurt made his entrance to the instructor's office. "I don't know why I signed up for this course, anyway," he announced. "I don't have any problems figuring out the differences between the sexes."

"Really?" Tasha's eyebrows went up in interest. She pulled the "magic light" from below her desk and turned it on. "Why don't you tell me how you see the differences, Kurt?"

"Well, women are like children," he proclaimed. "They need to be led and men, of course." He blinked, and found himself confused, unable to continue, as the light interfered with his concentration.

"Children--led and protected? Seriously?" Tasha asked.

"Ummmm....yeah...." he said and then his voice drifted off.

"Kurt--are you really convinced that's what women are like?" Tasha

"Yes, Miss Foreman," he answered, drifting into a trance.

"Would you be like that, if you were a woman?" she continued.

"Yes...but I'm not a woman," he protested.

"We'll see, we'll see," Tasha mused. She turned to the girls, waiting in the outer office. "OK, ladies, bring in those things."

In short order, Kurt was dressed in the most feminine and frilly of little-girl drag: a lacy white blouse and a plaid school-girl jumper, along with white knee socks and Mary-Janes. A shoulder-length dark wig was placed on his head, and blue satin ribbons tied it into a pair of full ponytails. The women prettied his face with a light touch of cosmetics.

Tasha posed the transformed student before a full-length mirror and directed his attention to it.

"Kurt, do you see the mirror?"

"Yes, Miss Foreman," he answered, dully. "There's a little girl there."

"No--not a little girl, Kurt. It's a woman, your image of a woman--a childish, helpless thing. It's you from now on.

"Your name is Pollyanna," Tasha continued, "and like that famous heroine, you see good in all things. You are never cross or out of sorts. You smile and simper and obey without question."

"I'm Pollyanna," he replied.

"Very good," Tasha complimented him. "Now, like many little girls, you like to suck on things-- lollipops, candy canes, things like that. If you hear me say, 'candy cane', from now on, you will have an irresistible urge to suck and lick at whatever is placed before you. What's more the sucking is sexually exciting--you will feel your little cock grow big in your pretty panties whenever you suck on something."

"I like to lick candy canes," the newly named Pollyanna said, smiling.

"Of course, you do," Tasha agreed. "One more thing: If I say, 'play the glad game,' you will immediately return to this trance and wait for instructions. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Miss Foreman," he answered again. "I like the glad game."

"Excellent," she said. "Now, when I count to five, you'll awaken and be Pollyanna! One-two- three-four-five!"

The over-sized little girl blinked and woke up. She smiled and apologized, "I'm sorry, Miss Foreman. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Quite all right, darling," Tasha replied. She beckoned to one of the coeds. "You know Carrie Infantino, don't you?" she asked, indicating the lovely Italian girl with the large bosom who now faced the cross-dressed boy.

"Yes. How are you, Carrie?"

"I'm fine, Pollyanna," the coed said, as she unbuttoned her blouse at Tasha's silent suggestion, revealing her breasts barely contained by her flimsy bra. She reached behind and undid the bra catch, and her large dark nipples were uncovered.

"Pollyanna--candy cane," Tasha said, quietly.

The ersatz little girl leaned forward and took one of Carrie's nipples between her lips, sucking and licking and nibbling. The aroused Carrie plunged her hand under her skirt and began to fondle herself.

"That's amazing," said another coed, Winnie Ellsworth. "Will he suck anything like that?"

"Yes," Tasha assured her, "even a cock--and maybe sooner rather than


Winnie and Carrie, who were roommates in an apartment off campus, took charge of Pollyanna, moving the oral-obsessed, childlike crossdresser into their spare room. Night after night was an orgy of Pollyanna's tongue loving and longingly applied to the girls' nipples and pussies.

They learned to delight in depriving their "young" protege her own sexual release--letting her use her oral talents on them, watching her cock grow in frustration, and then bringing themselves (or each other) to climax while forbidding Pollyanna to touch herself. They knew the boy-girl was reaching a point of sexual urgency.

Tasha visited them a week after Pollyanna's initial transformation. Pollyanna greeted her at the door in a remarkable outfit--a gold satin party dress with four or five petticoats beneath it, sheer white knee socks, white patent-leather maryjanes and a gold satin bow in her hair. She curtsied and escorted the instructor to the living room.

"Well, I can see you have Pollyanna just about ready for her final test," Tasha told the girls. She turned to the "experiment" and said, "Pollyanna, play the glad game." The boy-girl's eyes, so bright and shining a moment ago, went dull and glassy as she fell into the trance once again. Tasha smiled.

"Pollyanna, do you remember what we said a woman's duties are?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss Foreman," the transformed student replied. "They are to be led and protected by men. They should do whatever a man asks them to do. Men know the right things to do."

Tasha took off her coat. She was wearing a man's suit, her was combed back and slicked down. "Who am I?" she asked Pollyanna.

"Miss Foreman," she answered.

"Look again," the teacher commanded. "Is this how a woman dresses? Is this how Miss Foreman dresses?"

Confused, the entranced boy-girl answered, "No."

"I am Mister Foreman," Tasha continued. She stood and towered over the seated student. "I am a man, you must do what I tell you, right?"

"Yes, Mr. Foreman," Pollyanna replied.

"Very good. Now, I'm going to wake you up and when I do, you will obey me, Mr. Foreman, as you would any man, just like a child-woman should." Pollyanna nodded, and Tasha counted, "One-two-three-four-five," she counted as she stripped off her pants and revealed a strap-on dildo.

Pollyanna woke up, looking straight into the "eye" of the artificial member. "Candy cane," Tasha said. And the boy-girl placed her pink-tinted lips over the dildo and began to suck and lick.

Tasha watched as his sexual frenzy grew to a fever pitch, driven by seven days of brink-of-orgasm frustration. Pollyanna could hardly contain herself. Finally, Tasha looked the TV in the eye and said, "Go ahead and come, Pollyanna."

Pollyanna's cock fairly exploded and filled her frilly panties with cum. But her lips and tongue never left Tasha's cock.


"Get the door, Marian." Tasha called out to the student-maid who minced to the door in her six- inch heels.

"Good evening, Miss Carrie, Miss Winnie. Hello, Pollyanna," she said, as she curtsied and took their coats.

These three were the last to arrive. The other students--Aurora and Joanne, each with her coterie of coed transformers--were already seated in the living room of Tasha's home. As the newcomers passed Tasha in the hallway, she said, "Play the glad game" and like the other two "experiments" Pollyanna fell into her trance. Maid Marian followed them into the room and was also re-entranced.

"Well, ladies, we've completed the experiment," Tasha announced. "As I see it, we've learned some valuable lessons. Men and women are not so different after all...and men can learn what it is to play a subservient role. Some--like Joanne--even learn to love it."

She turned to the once-male submissives. "It's time to return you all to normal, although Joanne will remain as my very loyal, very efficient secretary." She produced a set of male clothes for each of the others, and had them get dressed. Then she released them from their trances and sent them home.

"That was fun while it lasted," said Bobbi Kane.

"Yeah, too bad it's over," sighed Lena Falk.

"Who said it's over?" Tasha smiled. "Did I remove any post-hypnotic suggestions?"

The End

Friday, August 29, 2008

Women We'd Love to Be--Round Two, Week 4

I've decided from now on to only write something about the winner if there's something specific I want to point out. There isn't this time, so....

And my apologies for getting this up so late. Real life rears its ugly head....

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Gender Jumble, Part Three

Book Three: Her Gal Friday

Tasha Foreman had finished explaining the "experiment" to the latest group of co-eds. "Now," she said, "we have to figure out what kind of girl John Broome will become."

The girls began presenting ideas: "A cheerleader," suggested Star Lee.

"No--the locker room would be too much of a challenge at this stage in our plans," Tasha advised.

"A pre-teen?" asked Stephanie Ditko.

"I have that in mind for another of our male students," Tasha answered.

"Didn't you say you'd recently lost your secretary?" inquired Jacquie Kirby. "John is a wiz at typing and computer stuff."

"Yes, I did," Tasha replied. "Ahhh--yes, the perfect image! A sexy little ditz who still has the skills and experience needed to keep my office running like clockwork!"

Half an hour later, John Broome sat before Tasha Foreman's desk, having fallen victim to the same light that had entranced her two previous "experiments". "Now, John, I understand that you are an expert at numerous computer operations--including word processing, web searching, and spreadsheets?"

"Yes, Miss Foreman," he answered, in a dull voice.

"Excellent. In a few moments, the girls and I will make some changes in your appearance and your attitude. From now on, your computer abilities will only be available to you when you look and feel as we will make you." She turned to the four co-eds. "Let's get our darling dressed."

In short order, John's longish hair had been re-arranged in a girlish bob, his face enhanced with cosmetics. He wore a man-tailored white satin blouse with a raw silk jacket and a flowing skirt in the same fabric, both in a pale pink. He was stretched out on the couch as they placed the matching pink pumps on his feet.

"John, stand." He did as ordered. "Face the mirror. The person you see is not John; she is Joanna. Think of every giggly, silly little ditz you have ever known--that girl is Joanna. Imagine a girl who is proud of her body, who shows it off, who revels in being sexy. That girl is you. Despite her image of silliness and empty-headedness, Joanna is a computer whiz...just as you have always been, John--until now."

Tasha considered a moment. "Whenever I say, 'Boot the computer,' you will become Joanna, my secretary. All the computer skills at your command will be hers. Moreover, operating the computer sexually excites you. Every keystroke, every mouse-click arouses your cock and makes you want sex. But if I say, 'Shut down the computer,' you will be John again...but you will be completely unable to operate a computer. The very thought of approaching a computer frightens you.

"Finally, if at any time...whether speaking to John or Joanna...I say, 'Take a letter,' you will return to your current trance state and await further commands. Now, when I count to five, you will awaken as Joanna and take your place at the desk outside."

By the end of the following week, Tasha Foreman's temporary secretary was the wonder of the campus. Every man on the staff made a point of going by Joanna's desk at least once a day, to see what sexy outfit the lovely brunette was wearing, to feel the arousal as she shamelessly flirted with them--batting her eyes, licking her lips, showing more leg than a discrete clerical staff member should.

But they also were after her to help out on their own work...because her skills were far beyond those of any other secretary in the place. She seemed to get tremendously absorbed once she began working on a project, and was thrilled to be offered a chance to do even more.

Tasha smiled as she watched the transformed student at the keyboard. She watched John/Joanna's smile grow with every keystroke, every mouse movement...knowing that smile was one of raging sexual arousal, arousal the faux-girl would need to relieve sooner or later.

Tasha began to determine what Joanna would wear each day, judging whether her image should be sexpot, controlling, or merely efficient. She wanted to keep both Joanna and her many admirers off guard. On Monday, it might be a tight-fitting business suit with gloves: "Take a letter, Joanna. Today you are a strict martinet. While you are aware of the arousing effect you have on others and delight in it, you never let that awareness show." On Tuesday, it might be a simple red shift with pearls and spike heels--sexy but efficient and professional: "Take a letter, Joanna. You are the model of a perfect secretary. You exist to perform your tasks and please me. But you are pleasant and attractive and willing to make the effort to please everyone around you." On Wednesday, the skirt is short enough to show garters and panties from the "wrong" angle, with the attitude to match: "Take a letter, Joanna. You will flirt and show off your sexy movements to everyone, male and female. Every smile and look of lust from a man brings you physical pleasure. Every look of disapproval from a woman merely enhances your determination to subtly seduce every man you see."

At the end of the second week, Tasha invited Joanna into her office. "Shut down the computer, Joanna," she said.

"Why are you doing this to me, Miss Foreman?" the revived John asked.

"It's not just you, dear--haven't you wondered what has happened to your male classmates who met with the other study groups?" Tasha replied. "All of you--except for Kurt Schaffenberger--have been transformed in various ways. He'll be next." She paused. "What's the matter, dear? Don't you like what I've done to you?"

"Oh no, Miss Foreman," he smiled. "Just the opposite--I love it! I've never been so excited, so aroused, so charged with sexual energy."

Tasha was surprised, yet pleased. "So you want to continue our 'experiment'?"

"Definitely!" John answered. "Put me back under, make me your secretary-slave, but let me know who I am and why I act as I do!"

"Very well....Take a letter, John," she said...and began giving him new instructions.

The next day, Tasha came to work to find Joanna in one of her shortest skirts, leaning back in her secretarial chair, her long, nyloned legs propped up against a filing cabinet.

A mischievous smile spread across Joanna's face when she saw her boss. "May I be of service, Miss Foreman?" she asked. Tasha nodded and gestured the saucy secretary into the office, unbuttoning her blouse on the way.

More to come

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Don't I Just Wish...Again

Here are revised versions of two of the shots from earlier today. I call this one "Office Girl".

And this one is "Dani the Wrong Direction".

Becoming Karen

My on-line girlfriend, Karen, who frequently comments here, sent me some pix of herself for me to "feminize." Actually, she did it at my urging, including my assurance that her "real face" would never be seen...and it won't.

She's posted the final versions at her blog--see the link at right--but I'm posting them here as well, along with the originals (faces blurred) so all can see the before and after. Unfortunately, I can't show you the work done on the faces, but Karen says she's happy that she came out not only pretty but still recognizable herself.

This first one I did with the intention of creating a normally full-figured woman, somewhat tightly corseted. On all of these, the legs have also been lengthened--I find most men look somewhat short-legged in comparison to real girls.

For this second set, I wanted to create a "busty bimbo"--low-cut blouse over a big set of boobs and a tiny mini-skirt. The blonde, blue-eyed face was just to see how Karen would look that way...but it seemed to fit with this figure. The starting point was the same image as above.

For the final image, I worked from another shot Karen sent me. The tan dress seemed very "blah", so I jazzed it up a bit: created a v-neck line, shortened the skirt and added some jewelry. The figure isn't very different from the first blue outfit one, but the face--with dark hair and violet eyes--was intended as a tribute to Liz Taylor.

Anyone interested in having similar work done on them, please e-mail me:

Vacation Dressing Day--Addendum 2

Here's the same blouse with the new denim skirt. Same hose and heels.

Love what the skirt does for my ass--really makes it look girlish, huh? I'm going to have to try both of these skirts with black hose or fishnets and those white sandals with the extreme heels.

More shots are here.

Vacation Dressing Day--Addendum 1

Here are some shots of that great black skirt, now paired with the white man-tailored blouse. With it, I'm wearing a couple of necklaces, white hose and the red moccasin-style pumps. I love the whole look of this outfit, very "office girl".

Don't you adore the second pose? It's so feminine!

More shots from this set here.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Gender Jumble, Part Two

Book Two: Sleeping Beauty

Bernie Bailey was surprised to find Miss Foreman and all the other members of his group already assembled in her office when he arrived. Two of the girls--Geri Siegel and Jo Shuster-- giggled and blushed as he excused his lateness. The other two--Bobbi Kane and Jeanie Robinson--simply stared, as if picturing him in some other way.

Tasha Foreman merely gestured to the comfortable chair before her desk. "Have a seat, Bernie," she offered. "I decided the experiment would work better if I had a chance to talk with the girls in the group first," she explained.

"I'm still not clear on what the experiment is," Bernie said, pulling out his notepad.

The mysterious flashing light appeared from under Tasha's desk. "It's not necessary that you understand, Bernie," the instructor said, as the light caught the attention of the unsuspecting boy. "It's merely necessary that you listen to me and watch the light...."

She continued in that vein for several minutes until Bernie was completely under her command. "Bernie, do you hear my voice?" She reached over and stroked his crotch. "Do you feel my touch?"


"Do you like how this feels?"

"Yes, Miss Foreman."

"Do you want it to continue?"

"Yes," he groaned slightly as his cock strained against his pants.

"Then all you must do is obey my requests; every time you do as I ask, your arousal will increase," she suggested.

"I will obey," he answered, and his cock twitched in response.

"When you awake, your name will be Aurora. You will be a sweet, loving princess of a girl, submissive to all around you. You will delight in the most feminine of clothing--flowing chiffons and laces, flouncy petticoats, saucy hats, sexy heels.

"If I say to you, Briar Rose, you will regain your identity of Bernie Bailey; but if I say, spindle, then Aurora will return. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Foreman, I am Aurora," he replied.

"Excellent," she continued. "Aurora is something of a sleeping beauty. A very special thing will happen the first time you are kissed......"

Tasha continued for the better part of an hour, strengthening and defining Aurora's femininity. Finally, she turned to the fascinated co-eds. "Girls, go to the closet and let's find the right clothes for our Princess Aurora."

Half-an-hour later, the erstwhile Bernie was in the first of several ultra-feminine outfits his co-ed tormentors and their instructor had chosen. In a short brunette bob, Aurora looked like the epitome of the young wife in the blouse with three-quarter length sleeves and the full skirt atop four bouncy petticoats. With pearls around her neck and three-inch heels on her feet, Aurora was a suburban princess ready for an afternoon of bridge with June Cleaver.

The other two outfits were equally feminine and frothy, but more in keeping with Aurora's own age. The first was a white cotton sundress with a halter neckline and a hem that stopped six inches above the princess's knees, standing out upon its froth of short petticoats. Her long legs were sleek in the tan pantihose and white sandals with four-inch heels.

The third and final outfit was similar to the first--except it was a deep coral satin, and worn with a pair of slingback white pumps. With both, Aurora wore a long blonde wig pulled back into a loose ponytail.

Tasha turned to her conspirator-students. "Now...what shall we do with our little princess?"

Geri Siegel brightened immediately. "I have just the way to teach her the ways of femininity and humiliate Bernie as well." The others gazed at her. "The campus Sapphic Society's formal ball is in two weeks....."

The next two weeks were a whirl of activity for the co-eds and the hapless Bernie. While they permitted him to attend classes and other functions as normal, most of his evenings were spent at Tasha's home as Aurora...and weekends were a blur of shopping trips as they searched for just the right formal gown for the "princess's" debut.

Bobbi Kane had a particularly teasing streak and loved to put Bernie/Aurora in compromising situations. In one shoe store, she convinced Aurora to ask for the highest pair of heels in stock. The clerk produced a sandal with a six-inch spike heel and neatly strapped it to Aurora's shapely foot.

"Go ahead, try them out," Bobbi urged. Aurora stood, her long legs showcased by the short-shorts she wore and the height of the sandal heel. Tentatively, she minced across the floor and then, gaining confidence, began to strut before the mirrors. As she turned to look at Bobbi for approval, the co-ed said, "Briar Rose".

Bernie nearly tripped to the floor as he stumbled in the now-unfamiliar heels. He caught sight of himself and how he was dressed in the mirror and blushed furiously. Bobbi merely grinned. "Why, Aurora, dear--you act as if you'd pricked yourself on a spindle," she commented--and nstantly, the cross-dressed boy regained his composure as the self-assured Aurora took over.

The afternoon of the Sapphic Society formal, the girls again gathered at Tasha's house, preparing themselves and Aurora for the evening. The girls had all chosen quite sophisticated column gowns for themselves, but Aurora's look was youthful and spirited. She wore a white gown with a beaded bodice, bare-shouldered with the tiniest spaghetti straps. The skirt was a froth of lace and netting, pulled up on the left side to reveal a touch of her leg. Her shoes were white satin pumps with a three-inch heel. Her hair was a mass of dark shoulder-length waves, her makeup subtle, yet designed to accent all her femininity and disguise any masculine qualities.

They arrived at the dance fashionably late and found the affair in full swing. The lesbian club's members and guests filled the dance floor. Several of the attendees had come in male drag--their hair slicked back, clad in tuxedos or dinner jackets. Most, though, were dressed in very feminine gowns or cocktail dresses.

As they entered, Tasha retriggered Aurora's trance state and reinforced some suggestions: "You will be highly aroused by dancing with these women. Though outwardly female, you remain a male within and the sight, scent and feel of these women excites you. To them, you should appear a committed, submissive lesbian. You will save the last dance for me...and remember my instructions about a kiss...." Tasha and the co-eds had been very careful not to kiss their charge at any time until now.

The formal dance went swimmingly; Aurora was a great hit with the Sapphic Society and was much sought-after for dancing. Finally, the evening came to a close, with Tasha and Aurora dancing, their bodies very close to together, as the orchestra played "Good Night Sweetheart". Tasha felt the bulge of Aurora's engorged cock through their gowns. "Remember the kiss...." she reminded.

As the tune ended, Tasha reached up, took Aurora's head in her hands and kissed the faux-girl strongly, her tongue thrust deep into Aurora's mouth. Instantly, Aurora/Bernie felt her cock spasm, filling her panties with cum. Tasha pulled away from the kiss, looked her experiment in the eye and whispered, "Briar Rose".

More to come

Vacation Shopping Spree--Addendum

Thanks to some nice scheduling, with the exception of a few hours at work yesterday, my vacation continues until Wednesday.

Today, at K-Mart, I found that white man-tailored blouse I wanted to go with the short black skirt. And at Target, I found a terrific, straight, tight blue denim skirt that's almost as short! So, right now, I'm wearing the new blouse and the new skirt, with black hose and the faux alligator pumps in bone. No pics today--I'll have more time tomorrow to set up and do a photo session.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Gender Jumble, Part One


The attractive, 30-ish instructor turned from the blackboard to face her class of college freshmen. Natasha Foreman looked out over the fresh young faces, girls outnumbering boys by some four to one. Not surprising, she thought. Glendale was an all-girls school until just two years ago. Tasha had felt from the beginning that going co-ed was the wrong move for Glendale...and this new course, "Gender Identity," was her chance to set things right, if she was careful.

"All right, ladies...and gentlemen," she announced. "For the next 12 weeks, we're going to explore the nature of gender identity in American society, a look at what it really means to be male or female today. I'm going to break the class up into study groups, five to a group, and meet with each group once a week to go over your materials."

She pointed to a group of four girls. "Miss Schulz, Miss Walker, Miss Falk, and Miss Browne, you will team with Mr. Williamson; Miss Siegel, Miss Shuster, Miss Kane, and Miss Robinson, you'll be with Mr. Bailey...." and so through three more groupings.

She set times for each group's first meeting in her office. I think the male members of these study groups may find this to be more of a challenge than they expect!

Book One: Maid Marian


As planned, the four girls in the first group arrived at Tasha's office a half-hour ahead of their male partner. Like most of the girls at Glendale, these four were from the high end of society, having been through all the classes and training needed to make them beautiful, poised and self-confident.

Carla Schulz was a tall, radiant blonde, her hair in a mass of natural ringlets; she generally wore very tight jeans, cropped tops and medium heels. Marcia Walker was a petite brunette, with a close-cut, pixieish hairdo; she was dressed, as usual, in a casual skirt and blouse. Lena Falk, a spectacular redhead with a traffic-stopping figure, dressed to show it off in tight skirts and low-cut blouses. Rachel Browne was a trim, athletic brunette, her hair in a helmet-like pageboy, her clothes an efficient slacks and shirt that still let her slim, attractive form show through.

Tasha explained her plan to the girls who listened in wide-eyed wonder. Carla and Rachel were incredulous. "Can this really work?" they asked, almost in unison.

"Yes," Tasha assured them. "I learned some of these techniques from some old college chums; they showed me how well they can achieve our goals...and I've developed some interesting variations of my own that I want to try out."

Marcia and Lena were excitedly eager. "I came here because I wanted an all-female environment," Lena pointed out. "I was damned tired of the constant distractions from men staring at me. Let's do it."

Shortly thereafter, poor Albert Williamson strolled into the office. "Guess I'm the slowpoke here," he chuckled as he settled into the one remaining chair--a comfortable leather easy chair directly across from Tasha's desk. "What's the agenda?"

"The agenda," Tasha began, "is an experiment in role reversal...but the only reversing will be on your part." Albert raised his eyebrows in puzzlement, as Tasha produced a strange, flashing light from below her desk. For some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off it.

"That's it, Albert, just watch the light. It's specially keyed to be attractive to male brain-wave patterns," Tasha said, softly, methodically. "Just keep watching the light and listen to my voice. You should begin to feel sleepy about now; that's right, just go ahead and drift off, but keep watching the light....."


Albert woke up feeling strange. He was completely at a loss for where he was or how he had gotten there. He was sitting in a chair in a completely strange room. Well, the only way to find out what's up is to take a look around, he decided, and stood up.

And promptly stumbled and fell. For the first time, Albert noticed what he was wearing. It was a classic maid's outfit--black satin dress with a high collar and white lace at the cuffs, a frilly white apron, and five or six layers of starched white petticoats that made the short skirt of the dress stand out nearly horizontal. Under it all, he could tell he was wearing a well-padded bra, panties, a garter-belt, and black fishnet stockings. On his feet were black patent-leather pumps with five-inch heels. That explains why I can't keep my balance, anyway, he determined.

Albert had just managed to pick himself up off the floor and begin to mince his way carefully to the door when it opened and a woman's form was silhouetted in the light from outside. "Ahh, you're awake at last," came the familiar voice of Miss Foreman. "Attend me, Maid Marian," she said, and Albert felt a sudden shift in his entire body.

He was no longer awkward in the unfamiliar heels and outfit. He followed Miss Foreman with an exaggerated swishing mince, his hips swaying, his hands limp at the wrists. As he passed a mirror in the hallway, he primped in a mirror, noting the careful application of color to his lips and cheeks, the artful use of shadow and mascara on his eyes, the soft wave of the shoulder-length brunette wig on his head. He couldn't recall any of this being done to him....but he knew it was right that he should look this way: After all, he was Maid Marian, servant to Miss Foreman and his other mistresses.

He followed Miss Forman into her study--for it was her house he was in--and saw his other mistresses: Carla, Marcia, Lena, and Rachel. He curtsied to them and then stood, hands folded behind his back, awaiting their pleasure.

"Tasha, he--I mean she's precious!" Rachel cried. "I had no idea a boy could be feminized so completely!"

"And, although he responds completely as a girl, he knows everything that's happened to him?" Carla asked.

"Oh, absolutely," Tasha replied. She turned to Marian/Albert. "Albert, come out and play." The man-maid stumbled slightly in his heels, regained his balance and answered, "I'm here, Miss Foreman."

"What has happened to you, Albert?"

"You hypnotized me and turned me into your maid, Marian. I must obey you and these, my other mistresses, or....

"Or what, Albert?"

"Or I will flunk your class and be disciplined by being revealed to all the other students as Marian."

Tasha turned to her female student-conspirators. "I discovered that, in order to make Albert's subconscious mind accept his subservient state, a little incentive was required."

She turned back to the hapless male. "Thank you, Albert. Attend me, Maid Marian." The simpering smile and perfect feminine poise of the maid returned. "Ladies, what's the one thing a man demands of you that you dislike the most? And what's the one thing you'd like from a man that he refuses most often?" Tasha smiled, as if she knew the answer already.

The four co-eds put their heads together and then answered, in unison, "Oral sex, to both questions."

Tasha's smile grew wider. "Well, here's your chance."

Lena was the boldest--she reached under her skirt and pulled off her panties, then pulled her skirt up. "Marian, dear, would you please service my pussy?"

"Of course, Mistress Lena," the transformed boy replied, kneeling at once and burying his face in the redhead's crotch.

Tasha gave another command. "Remember this, Maid Marian. The taste of pussy is the greatest thrill you know; as you lick more and more of a woman's juices, your cock will get harder and harder. As the woman comes, you will come. Even as Albert, you will remember this arousal and seek it out...but be unable to achieve the same release unless you are Maid Marian."

In response, Marian began to lick and suck at Lena's pussy even more urgently and soon, Lena was bucking and moaning in her orgasmic throes, and Marian, too, jerked as her cock filled her panties with come.

But the party wasn't over yet; as Marian raised her head from Lena's soft, wet thighs, she saw that each of her other mistresses was also ready to be serviced. Despite his having already come so recently, Albert/Marian felt his cock arise as he gazed on all these waiting feasts.

More to come

Women We'd Love to Be--Round Two, Week 3

Who'd have thought the little girl from E.T would grow up into one of the great beauties of the 21st century? Or that, after much publicized bouts with drugs and alcohol before puberty, she would develop into one of Hollywood's highest-paid women? Is it because she's survived so much and come out so well that Drew is a woman we'd love to be?

Don't I Just Wish...

Here are three shots from yesterday's photo shoot, altered to depict the image I wish I could present to the world.

As I look at my current femme self, I regret two things: One, that I've put on so much weight in the past three decades (mostly the last two) and two, that all of it seems to have centered in my waist. If I were female, it would have gone to my hips, where I could use it!

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Vacation Dressing Day, Part 3

In the words of my mother-in-law: "Damn, damn, double damn, triple damn, hell!"

The cardigan top I bought to wear with the black miniskirt is too small! I bought it off Target's clearance rack, thinking it was a misses XL, but it appears it must have been a junior XL. So I had to switch to one of my older tops--the blue pin-striped one for these pictures. Eventually I'll get a white blouse to go with this; I'd really like a man-tailored white blouse for a spiffy "office girl" look.

I'm wearing off-white hose and the black Mary-Janes. I haven't mentioned the necklace yet--I love the choker look. Somehow it says femininity and a touch of bondage, too.

More shots from this set are here.

Depending on how things go, there may be one more posting about all this. By late afternoon, it looks like I'll have to change into at least male outer clothes (the wife may stop by on her way to her evening meeting and I may drop by an event at the local school).

Vacation Dressing Day, Part 2

Here's the next outfit, a print top and skirt ensemble from Target. I'm wearing it with fishnet stockings and my black Mary-Janes.

This is definitely in the running for my new favorite outfit. The skirt length is terrific and the band under the breasts makes my boobs look great!

One point I haven't mentioned yet--in preparation for today, I didn't just shave my legs, I used hair remover. The haven't been this smooth since the days three decades ago when I was dressing on a regular basis.

More shots from this set are here.

Vacation Dressing Day, Part 1

Well, I've been en femme for a little under two hours now, first taking pictures, then working on the computer. Shortly, I'll change outfits and take more pictures, but first I wanted to share these with you.

This is the red Jaclyn Smith top-and-skirt ensemble I talked about yesterday, worn with taupe hose and each of the two pairs of shoes from Target. I wore both because I wasn't sure which would look better. The "moccasin" style heels are on the right, the "oxford Mary-Janes" on the left. Which do you prefer?

I know I prefer the Mary-Janes, but that's because I almost always prefer a higher heel.

BTW, I'm trying something new with my face in these pics--I've digitally created lipstick and covered my beard. Is it working?

And there are more pics from this set here.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Male Junior Miss, Part Two

I wore heels all the time and these and narrow skirts made my walk very feminine. A waist cinching garter-belt and constant exercise whittled my waist while my limbs and body became soft and rounded. I even developed in a way that was very embarrassing. I tried to hide it, but by the end of the summer I could wear a 34-C cup brassiere without any padding. Donna then told me that every inch of her 38-22-37 figure was her own and that I had been getting hormones in my food just as she had.

With my heart in my throat I asked, "How long are you going to be a girl now that you're out of high school?"

"Momma wants to keep me in dresses until I turn 21," she answered, not looking at all bothered by the idea.

I would rise early in the morning, put on my maid's uniform, and fix breakfast for Aunt Millie and Donna. Then I had to make all the beds and clean the house until noon, when I again cooked lunch for my aunt and whatever guests she might have invited over. After washing the noon dishes, I would change and go to my job as a cashier in the cosmetics department of the local drugstore. Almost every woman who came in asked to see Beverly, the boy salesgirl. They all seemed to be thrilled by the idea of a boy being made to wear girls' clothes, and several said they might try it on their own sons. I soon ceased to be embarrassed at being referred to as a "boy-girl".

But other things remained embarrassing. The cosmetics manager delighted in using me as a model for some of the teen-targeted products, especially lipstick. She would sit me on the high stool by the counter and twirl the lipstick up until the color was revealed. She'd hold it before my eyes and say, "Now we'll give you beautiful red lips, Beverly," and then, as the color was applied to my mouth, I'd feel my cock swell inside my panties. The teen girls who were looking for makeup would point at the bulge under my skirt and giggle.

When the time came to go home I was almost sorry to become a boy again. However, I was getting a bit ahead of myself as I soon found out.

My mother had promised that I could get out of dresses if I behaved myself that summer, but she insisted on seeing me as Beverly first, so I had to fly back home dressed as a girl. Mother and Linda met me at the airport. "My, how pretty and feminine you've become!" Mother exclaimed.

"If Beverly had been here all summer, I would have had to hide her from my boyfriends!" Linda laughed.

They showed me off to their girlfriends and I was embarrassed all over again as the women teased me. They made me style my hair, put on make-up, even model several dresses for them all the while commenting on how completely feminine my actions had become. In the middle of the "show," as I was dressed in a flirty little black party dress and the highest of my many heels, Mother casually said, "Of course, Beverly is Bob." Instantly, I lost my footing and nearly tumbled to the floor. All my poise and training as a girl seemed to disappear. Mother and Linda smiled conspiratorially at their guests. "Beverly is beautiful," Mother said, and I again knew how to handle myself in the feminine attire.

Most of the women were amazed to learn that my figure was real and that my pretty hair was my own. One lady told me I should never cut it as it was too lovely to wear short.

The next day was Registration Day at school, but sophomores didn't register until afternoon so I thought I had plenty of time to get a haircut and get back into boys' clothes. For some reason I found that I couldn't completely discard my feminine finery, so I put on a pair of powder blue nylon panties with lace trim and opened my suitcases.

To my horror, every suitcase was filled, not with the clothes I took to Aunt Millie's, but with dresses, skirts, blouses, and girls' underthings!

My mother came into my bedroom and handed me a pair of very tight girls' jeans, a white blouse, a pair of knee-high nylons and a pair of black patent shoes with three-inch heels and told me to put them on. Puzzled, I obeyed her order, donning a bra first.

The slacks felt strange to me. They were the first pants I had worn in three months and the shoes had the lowest heels I'd worn all summer. The slacks zipped up the side and the blouse buttoned up the back, but I was used to that. The clothes did nothing to conceal my figure.

Mother then brushed my hair, turning the ends under so that I had a chin-length Page Boy and bangs that nearly reached my eyebrows.

"Now you're all ready to go down to school and register for your fall classes!" she said.

"Go register? Like this?" I exclaimed. "You promised I could be a boy again!"

"No, I didn't!" she laughed. "I only said you could wear pants again. I didn't say what kind of pants!"

"Everybody will laugh at me and tease me!" I cried. "The boys will call me a queer!"

"It's no more than you deserve." she answered. "After all the trouble you've caused at school, I think they are entitled to see your punishment!"

She drove me down to register and at first no one recognized me. But when mother told them my right name and requested that I be registered as "Beverly," everyone clustered around. Mother explained how I had spent the summer and said she was sending me back to school like this. All the teachers loved the idea! To my surprise, the principal looked me over, expressed her approval and said that more boys should be put into girls' clothes.

The first week of classes was hell. The boys teased me unmercifully, and the girls asked embarrassing questions about my lacy panties and lingerie and giggled at the answers. Everyone called me Beverly, and I was instructed to use the girls' bathroom. Even worse, some of the staff seemed to have instructions from my mother to reinforce my feminization.

On Wednesday, the school nurse called me in for an examination. She had me remove my blouse and carefully looked over my breasts. I tried to cover them up, still ashamed by my budding tits, but she stopped me by saying, "This is important, Beverly." As with Aunt Millie, it suddenly seemed as if her words were the only thing I could hear or understand.

"Beverly, you must be proud of your breasts," she said. "You might even want to sometimes go braless and let their sassy little nipples show through your blouse. Don't hide them, display them." Then she reached inside my bra and played with my nipples, making then stiff and tingly. "Doesn't this make you feel good?" she asked. Once again, I came in my panties, sure that I would never hide my breasts again.

The second week, pictures were taken for our yearbook and Mother made me wear a black- and-white print dress with a flared skirt and petticoats, matching pumps with six-inch heels, and my hair permed. When the other kids in school saw how easily and naturally I walked in a skirt and extreme heels some of them began to wonder out loud if I was really a boy. The teasing got worse when they discovered the stud earrings in my ears and I went home in tears.

By Christmas my hair had grown so long that it reached my shoulders, but mother forbade me to cut it. When she caught me trying to trim it, she said I would have to wear dresses for the rest of the school year! She even got special permission for me to wear nylon stockings and extreme high heels to my classes!

When I went back to school in a sheath and heels, with my hair arranged in curls and waves on the top of my head the teasing got positively vicious. I told my mother I couldn't take it anymore, and she gave me a choice. If I continued in my regular school, I could resume wearing girls' slacks at the end of the year. If I didn't want to do that, she would send me to a girls' school, but if I went there, I would have to wear dresses all the time for the next three years!

I tried to stick it out, but after another week of wearing girls' clothes and feminine underthings in a public school where everyone knew I was a boy, I broke down. With tears of shame and defeat in my eyes, I begged my mother to send me to the girls' school.

The girls' school was much better. There, only the teachers and some of the upper classwomen knew I was a boy and the girls treated me like one of their own. Some of the senior girls did more than that. My roommate in junior year, a senior named Cynthia, delighted in using her knowledge of my secret to control me. Like many other women in my life, she seemed to be able to influence me just through the use of certain phrases.

Cynthia loved to lay beside me in bed, completely naked, and stroke my breasts, legs and cock with the satin of my nightgown. "Beverly is my smooth sissy lover," she would coo to me, over and over, keeping my cock hard as a rock and making me want desperately to taste her pussy endlessly.

Because of the lost year in High School, I was 19 before I graduated. During the three years there I became even more feminine. I learned the arts of cooking and sewing and became especially good at hairstyling, so good, in fact, that the school saw that I received training for it. My own hair I allowed to grow. It grew so long that I had the longest hair in school. Due to strenuous figure training I lost an inch in the waist and gained an inch in the bust. With my 38-19-36 shape and my waist-length hair I certainly didn't resemble in the slightest what I really was--a boy.

At the Graduation Ball, I wore a white satin dress that followed my curves all the way to my ankles. It had a halter neckline with a keyhole over my breasts and showed a good deal of cleavage. Even in my five-inch heels I was shorter than most of the other girls in my class, and much smaller than any of the boys from the Military Academy nearby. I had my black hair piled up on my head except for a single long roll curl that fell down my back to my narrow waist. From my ears drop earrings swung to chin level and a simple chain and locket encircled my neck.

Returning from the girls' school I spent the first week home as Beverly at mother's request. Cynthia joined us there and made it clear she wanted me as her lifelong companion. Mother's friends had difficulty believing that I was her son, and the lady who told me to let my hair grow made me let it down so she could run her fingers through it. She was jealous when she discovered it was longer than hers. After the first week mother said I could return to boys' clothes if I wished, but she wouldn't let me cut my hair until I was 21.

I wasn't too eager to go back to pants, but I decided that since I was a boy, I should. It didn't work--I looked like a very feminine boy or a girl trying to pass as a boy. Cynthia was furious when she saw me in male clothes. "This is important, Beverly," she began. "You cannot wear male clothes......"


Vacation Shopping Spree, Part 2

Today I returned to K-Mart and Target to do the real shopping. Unfortunately, K-Mart no longer had the dress I showed you yesterday in my size. But I did find a lovely red skirt and top in their Jaclyn Smith collection. The skirt is a straight skirt that falls just below my knees. It's not in their on-line store, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow to see it--when I take pictures.

Target had some great stuff--I chose a floaty print top and skirt set for one. The skirt is, again, just below knee length and quite swirly. I also got a real-and-truly mini-skirt in my size! It's black, straight and tight and falls about an inch above my knees! It'll really show off my legs! To go with it, I got a white knit top with little black dots that was on clearance. Again, none of this is in the on-line store, so pictures will have to wait until tomorrow!

I can't wait--can you?

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Vacation Shopping Spree, Part 1

Having gotten son to school sooner and quicker than anticipated, I decided to a preliminary scouting expedition for tomorrow's shopping spree.

First stop was K-Mart, where they are having a But-One-Get-One-Half-Price sale on virtually all women's clothes. I spotted a couple of really attractive outfits in their Jaclyn Smith line...and in my size! Unfortunately, they don't seem to be in the on-line store, so I can't show you them. I'm certainly picking up one or more of them tomorrow.

Second stop was Target. Also spotted some nice outfits. One of them was, I think, this dress:

Mossimo® Black: Flutter-Sleeve Wrap Dress With Tie Back

And I also checked out the shoes there, because on an earlier visit I had seen quite few very cute and sexy new arrivals. I went ahead and bought two of them, feared that they wouldn't be around in my size too long.

Here's the first:
Women's Merona® Melany Pumps - Red

And the second:
Women's Mossimo® Velda Patent Oxford Pumps - Red

As I checked out with both boxes closed, the cashier said, "For you?" and opened the first box, with the "Velda" pumps. "I guess not," she said. "How about these?" she asked again, opening the second box. She just looked up and smiled. You have no idea how much I was tempted to say "Yes" both times!

Of course, I tried the shoes on as soon as I got home (couldn't in the store, I was wearing athletic socks), and they are terrific, especially those "Velda" pumps. I'm still wearing them now!

Monday, August 18, 2008


Rats! Best as I can tell, none of the slides or other photos at my mom's house are shots of me en femme. So the half-dozen or so I have already scanned may be all I have left of that period in my life.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Male Junior Miss, Part One

[About a year ago, I posted here a rewrite on a decades-old story from Astounding Transvestite Tales called "Sissy Forever". After I'd done that one all those years ago, I came across another old story that I thought could be reworked to fit within my familiar themes. Here it is:]

It was the last day of school. I had just completed my sophomore year in high school and now I was free for the summer. I was a little frightened about what my mother would say when I told her I had been left back a year because I had flunked too many subjects, but I knew how to take care of that: I would be 16 in two days and I planned to quit school.

I hated school. The studies weren't too hard, but I had been barred from most school activities. The coach said they didn't need football or basketball players who only stood 5 feet 2 inches tall. Most other activities such as cheerleading and tennis were reserved for girls. I tried to copy the other boys in every way I could, wearing the same clothes and letting my hair grow, but I could not copy their height. Even most of the girls towered over me. As a result, I was always cocky and getting into trouble. I failed my studies, because I simply refused to do my homework.

As expected, Mother had a great deal to say about my flunking. My older sister, Linda, just stood there with an "I-told-you-so" expression on her face while Mother bawled me out.

The next morning I was greeted with a surprise. "Bob, I'm sending you to stay with your Aunt Millie for the summer," Mother told me. Aunt Millie lived in California, almost a thousand miles away, and I had seen her only once in my life. She had visited us nearly six years before with her son, Don. I remembered him as a small, dark hellion. In fact, seeing what Aunt Millie let him get away with was probably what made me so hard to get along with.

In no time Mother had me packed, drove me to the airport, and put me on a plane to California. I arrived late in the evening and Aunt Millie took me straight home and put me to bed.

At breakfast the next morning, I experienced the first of many shocks. As a pretty maid served us breakfast, Aunt Millie told me what was in store for me. "There's only one way to keep a problem boy like you in line--you will dress and behave as a girl for the summer!" she announced. "I suggested this to your mother when I heard of the trouble you were in. Petticoating you will straighten you out just as it has Don."

"You mean you made Don wear girls' clothes for a summer?" I stammered.

"Somewhat longer." she replied. "Who do you think served us breakfast?"

At her words, I looked more closely at the pretty maid who by then sat at the table with us. She wore a black sheath, stockings with seams, and matching heels. Her hair was arranged in a pile of curls on top of her head, her ears sported pearl stud earrings, and her face was perfectly made-up, very pretty, and familiar. I suddenly recognized that this lovely girl was my cousin Don!

"How long has he been a girl?" I asked.

"Donna has worn dresses for six years now." Aunt Millie continued. "She's 18 and will graduate from high school tomorrow. You will be there--as her girl cousin.

"Now get ready to go downtown." she ordered. "You'll need some clothes and you have an appointment at the beauty parlor."

At the dress shop, I was horrified to discover that all the salesgirls seemed to know what my aunt had planned for me because I was required to change into girls' clothes right there in the store. They all seemed to know that Donna was a petticoated boy and they called both him and me "boy-girls." It was a small town and I wondered if the whole town knew about Donna.

The salesgirls provided all manner of clothes for me...and all of them as feminine as possible.

They decided my legs were my best feature, so all the outfits had short skirts and were accompanied by very high heels. Even with my hair and face untouched, it was clear I was going to be an attractive girl.

In the beauty parlor I was given a trim, a shampoo, and a permanent. While I sat under the dryer, the attendants brought me a drink. I began to feel quite drowsy and comfortable. When I awoke, the prospect of wearing girl's clothes no longer bothered me quite as much. I was still positive it would not really change me, but something had changed. I just wasn't sure what.

My eyebrows were plucked, make-up applied, and my ears were pierced. Aunt Millie refused to let me look in a mirror until we got home. When I finally did see myself it was quite a shock. Aunt Millie brought me into the room I would share with Donna, and stood me before a full-length mirror.

"Beverly is beautiful," she announced. So Beverly was to be my name. Something about those words stirred a reaction in me. I looked in the mirror and felt my sexual arousal beginning. I was a girl. I wore a beige shirtwaist dress with coffee-colored nylons and matching beige pumps with four-inch heels. My black curls covered my head, just allowing my earlobes to peek through. My lips were pink and my curled, mascara-covered eyelashes framed wide-open brown eyes. "Why, you're even prettier than Donna Aunt Millie exclaimed.

The following night I attended the graduation. I wore a lemon yellow suit and white four-inch heels with brown nylons and a little white hat perched among my curls. Donna wore a black minidress and patent-leather pumps with five-inch heels. When Donna received her diploma the principal confirmed my fears by remarking to the audience that Donna, despite the high heels and long hair, was a boy. The principal asked Donna to remain on the platform, and then said, "Don is Donna." It seemed a new light came into Donna's eyes then, and she stumbled a moment in her heels and suddenly seemed far less self-assured and poised. "Tell everyone how you feel about being a girl, Don," the principal asked.

"Being a girl has made me a better person," my cousin answered, in a voice I recognized as being male and not the breathy feminine sound Donna used. "I am pleased that my mother changed me and I know that my cousin Beverly will learn to appreciate her changes as well."

"Thank you, Don," the principal said. "Donna is beautiful,," she said, and once more it was clear that it was Donna who stood beside her. "Donna is, indeed, a much better person than Don had been," the principal continued. "Now, will Donna's cousin Beverly please rise?" I did as requested, seemingly unable to resist the request, and stood there, red to the roots of my hair, while the principal commented on my girlishness and asked everyone in the town to help Aunt Millie with me as they had helped her with Donna.

Aunt Millie was very strict with me that summer. She made me exercise every morning and taught me to sew and cook. The whole town treated me like a girl and reported any trace of boyishness to my aunt. When she received these reports, she would make me practice that movement, action, or gesture until I did it like a girl.

Strangely, I seemed unable to resist these practice sessions. Moreover, they often passed like a dream to me, as though I learned my lessons in some kind of sleeping state. But once learned, a lesson was not forgotten--often, I tried to recall my old way of sitting or standing or walking and found myself incapable of duplicating it.

I especially recall the session that followed a report to Aunt Millie that I had been seen walking down Main Street in my stockinged feet, having removed my four-inch heels as too uncomfortable. As I walked into the house, Aunt Millie called me to her room and confronted me with the report. She went to her closet and pulled out a pair of pumps with six-inch heels. "Put these on, Beverly," she insisted. I complied and wobbled on the unfamiliar stilts.

"This is important, Beverly," she said, and suddenly her words seemed to be the only thing that mattered to me, and no other sound penetrated my mind. "You will wear at least four-inch heels at all times, Beverly," Aunt Millie told me, as she made me walk up and down the length of her room in these skyscrapers. "Your legs will feel cramped and uncomfortable in flats or bare foot; you will even have to wear high-heeled bedroom mules upon getting up in the morning." She kept me practicing and, as I did, the heels became not only comfortable, but almost relaxing.

Half an hour later, she told me stop and posed me before the full-length mirror. "Look at your legs and feet, Beverly," Aunt Millie instructed. "Aren't they lovely? Aren't they sexy? Don't they make you feel good?" With those words, I felt myself come inside my panties...and knew I'd never be seen without heels again!

More to come

Friday, August 15, 2008

Next Week

I'll be on vacation from work next week...and though the first couple of days are taken up with pre-planned errands, the rest of the week could be quite fun.

Actually, the Monday errand could be productive as well. I'm going to visit my Mom, and to clean some stuff out of her attic that's been there for decades. Among that stuff are a lot of slides I took back in the day, some of which may include pics of me in femme mode back then, pics I don't currently have copies of.

Tuesday, son goes back to college.

My plan is for Wednesday to be a shopping day--I know Target and Payless both have some shoes I'm interested in, and I'm pretty sure I can find some nice outfits in other places. I'm primed to get back into things now that summer's almost over.

Thursday will be the big day. Wife will be gone from early morning until late in the I can dress the whole day. Lots of pics for sure.

Friday will be blogging and posting day and, if I'm right about those photos from Mom's house, finding out about getting slides scanned.

I'm already excited.

Women We'd Love to Be--Round Two, Week 2

Her image seems to say she is intended for only one thing...and we all know what that one thing is. The bottle-blonde hair, the round boobs that seem to change size regularly (emphasizing their artificiality), the girlish voice...for those of us whose desired look is "bimbo," Pam is the woman we'd love to be.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

The Ransom of Redhead, Chapter Four

It was the annual electronics industry showcase, where the biggest names in the computer, entertainment and software businesses displayed their forthcoming products to the world.

At the Cooper Enterprises' display, Selena and Mary Ellen Cooper greeted visitors, dressed in enticing black leather business suits, with extremely short skirts, six-inch heels, and just lacy camisoles under their jackets. As they smiled at the various male visitors, they handed out special lapel pins and touted a big announcement at two o'clock.

At two o'clock, a new figure took the stage at Cooper Enterprises.
Her coppery red hair was set off by the large glowing earrings she wore, and her makeup was dark, dramatic, and almost fetishistic in its intensity. That was fitting, since Connie "Redhead" Cooper's outfit was decidedly in the kinky tradition--a form-fitting blue latex mini-dress that hugged her every curve and ended a full seven inches above her knees. Her arms were covered in matching elbow-length gloves. Her legs were sheathed in dark nylons and were perched on pumps in matching blue with two-inch platforms and eight-inch heels. As usual, her eyes glowed with the same violet as her earrings.

She stood next to a console that resembled a cross between a computer keyboard and a wireless network connector. As she smiled and strode around the stage, many of the men in the audience felt a surge in their arousal.

Selena's voice came from offstage: "Ladies and gentlemen, today Cooper Enterprises enters the brave new world of complete computer control. Our lovely model, Connie, is completely enthralled to the control of our new system, so completely under its spell that she now responds to voice commands.

"Connie Redhead, lick your lips." Her pink tongue moved sensuously over her dark red mouth.

"Connie Redhead, sit and cross your legs." She sat at the chair by the console and sexily moved her left leg over her right. Most of the men craned their necks for a better view.

"Connie Redhead, flash your panties!" The crowd laughed--men and women both--as she pulled up her skirt to show off her matching latex panties. Only a few noticed the unusual bulge.

"Very good. Now, Connie Redhead, go to the console and summon your assistants." She turned to the keyboard and typed a few short words. The lights on the console glowed and then footsteps could be heard from stage left.

They walked in in a straight line: Bonnie, Geri, and Audrey. Dressed identically, they wore white midriff-baring tops with the Cooper logo over the left breast, white and gold wraparound skirts that very nearly exposed their crotches, and gold pumps with six-inch heels. Each had jewels like Connie Redhead's in their outfits--Bonnie's on a bracelet, Geri's in her earrings, Audrey's on an ankle bracelet. Like Connie, their makeup was dark and dramatic, and their eyes matched their glowing jewels.

"Connie Redhead, have them dance for us." Some more typing, and then the three lovelies began to bump and grind to a rhythm only they could hear.

"Perhaps something a little kinkier--let's see Bonnie and Geri make out while Audrey gets excited watching." In a moment, Bonnie and Geri were locked in a deep, sensuous kiss, hands roaming over each other's bodies, while Audrey rubbed her own crotch in arousal. Most of the men in the audience were smiling; the women were either puzzled or annoyed.

"Enough of that. Time for the final demonstration. Connie Redhead, full control!" Connie pushed a single button, and the jewels on the trio's outfits grew white-bright, as they froze into an upright position.

Simultaneously, tiny jewels in the lapel pins worn by the male audience members also glowed, their eyes glazed in a violet haze, and they also froze into position. The women in the audience gaped in awe.

Now, Selena stepped out onto the stage. "Ladies, this is the beginning of a revolution. Any woman who wants to control the men in her life now has that ability...provided she can deal with a simpering, submissive sissy for a mate." The smiles on the faces of most of the women indicated that was something they could handle.

Selena grinned. The ransom was fully paid.


Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Poll Thoughts

Well, I knew sooner or later I'd have to do a collage for Pamela. Maybe it's my age (mid '50s), but I just don't see the appeal, beyond a certain bimboish charm, I suppose...especially when compared to the sophisticated allure of Bacall.

Who knows, maybe there will be an influx of golden-age lovers in the next couple of days and I can do something else.

Monday, August 11, 2008

The Ransom of Redhead, Chapter Three

With trepidation, Stewart opened the package. Oddly enough, there were no photographs this time, only a note and a small box. He read the note:
Rest assured that our little Redhead remains well, and is becoming more beautiful, more compliant, more feminine, more sissified with every day. You have already seen the results of the first two ransom payments. Now it is your turn to follow instructions. Open the box.

Shaking, he complied. As he lifted the lid, a pulsing violet light was revealed. He discovered he couldn't take his eyes from it. It riveted his gaze. Soon he forgot all about his and his companions' dilemma; the light had filled his mind. Now a familiar voice seemed to come from the box as well:

"Welcome, Glamorous Geri--your new life has begun!"


He awoke in a strange room, one that looked like the kind of lounge a hotel might keep for important guests outside a rented ballroom. He realized he was naked except for a set of feminine lingerie. There was a knock at the door and two women entered.

After a moment of shock, he realized he knew the woman in front, despite her coppery hair and the blank violet glow in her eyes, that matched the opulent earrings she wore. It was Conrad--Connie--"Redhead"!

She wore a skintight gown of blue sequins and a pair of clear plastic sandals with six-inch heels. Her walk was a sexy mincing shimmer, as the heels and the tightness of her skirt caused her to take short steps that emphasized the wiggle of her hips.

Behind was another woman, a dark brunette in a red satin sheathlike gown. "Hello, Geri," she said...and Stewart recognized the voice from the box. Another recognition then came to him.

"You're Selena--Conrad's wife!" he cried.

"Yes, Geri, darling," she admitted. "I am the instigator of these events, the transformation of my stepson, my husband and all his associates into the simpering feminine servants I needed them to be.

"You see, Geri, I set my sights on Connie not because of his looks or his wealth--although they were of great assistance--but because of the research and development your company was doing in electronic mind alteration and control. Through some carefully forged memos, I was able to get that R&D directed toward my goals. But more on that later--we have to get you ready for your debut!"

She reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of dangling earrings, each with one of those violet jewels that matched the color of her pulsating light show. Instantly, Stewart's eyes were again riveted. He felt his mind and body slacken into trance, as his eyes took on the tell-tale glowing gaze.

A short time later, a much-changed Gerald Stewart, now Glamorous Geri, entered the ballroom with Connie and Selena. The all-important earrings now hung from her ears. She wore a fuschia ballgown with diaphanous cap sleeves and a ruffled skirt that ended in mid-calf above her matching sandals with six-inch heels. Her hands and arms were sheathed in matching gloves.

The room was filled with women in formal attire. Not a single male figure was visible. Selena led her charges to the dais, where Mary Ellen, Bonnie and Audrey, similarly attired, awaited them. As Selena strode to the microphone, the room roared with applause. She raised her hands to quiet them and then spoke:

"My friends, you have seen here the beginnings of our plan--the demonstration of our ability to control the men who control business. Tomorrow, I will exact the final 'ransom payment' and our triumph will be complete!"

More to come