Saturday, January 31, 2015

New Poll: Who Are You?

Beginning today, and running for the next six months, will be a series of questions designed to give me a picture of my readership.

I'll be posting two questions a month, so you'll have a full four weeks to respond. Here are the first two questions:

1. How old are you?
*under 18
*over 60

2. What's your job?
*professional (lawyer, doctor, architect)
*manual labor (truck driver, construction, etc.)

Post your answers in the poll form to the right...and thanks for participating!

The Man We'd Most Love to See Feminized

The winner of the final round, as you chose the guy who made the prettiest girl, was overwhelmingly...

Neil Patrick Harris!

Of course, NPH just finished a run on Broadway in a transgendered role, as the title character in Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Here's a look at him in the part:

Neil got 29 percent of the votes. The top four runner-ups were, in order, Wil Wheaton (17%), Donny Osmond (16%), Michael J. Fox (14%), and Leonardo diCaprio (7%). The only one who got no votes in the final round was Zachary Quinto.

A very different poll starts later today!

Friday, January 30, 2015

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Honor and Obey

You have until January 31 to pick the man who makes the prettiest girl (details here)!

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Her First Rodeo

You have until January 31 to pick the man who makes the prettiest girl (details here)!

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Dressing Before the Storm 2

Well, the snowfall around here was way below the predicted 10 inches; we had maybe three--not that I'm complaining. Anyway, here's the second of two office-ready ensembles from Sunday:

The white blouse with silver trim is by New Look, bought at Foreman Mills in September 2014; the black pencil skirt is from Fashion Bug in February 2011; the shoes are Predictions Comfort Plus "Janine" houndstooth pumps, from Payless in September 2014. Other accessories are a pastel bow, scarf, red jewelry, and natural hose.

Here's a kiss for you all:

More pics on Flickr; next dressing sometime in February; and you have until January 31 to pick the man who makes the prettiest girl (details here)!

Monday, January 26, 2015

Dressing Before the Storm

With the wife out visiting friends on Sunday, I got in some dressing time just before our area is to be hit with a major snowstorm.

The blue pinstripe suit is one of my oldest remaining outfits--it's by Courtenay and purchased at Burlington Coat Factory way back in July 2008; the white crochet top is from JCPenney's St. John's Bay line, bought in August 2012; the boots are Jaclyn Smith "Tisdale" boots, from Kmart in November 2014. Other accessories are glasses, scarf, wide black belt, black-and-white jewelry, and natural hose.

A portrait, captioned "You think I might be a boy?"

More pics on Flickr; another outfit still to come; and you have until January 31 to pick the man who makes the prettiest girl (details here)!

Sunday, January 25, 2015


Another lost story by "N"

George had always been afraid of heights; the problem had bothered him for as long as he could remember but, over the last few months, it had been getting worse. After a particularly bad experience in one of the elevators at work, his girlfriend had finally convinced him to seek treatment and so George found himself waiting nervously in the plush offices of Doctor Miriam White, psychiatrist and consultant hypnotherapist.

"The doctor will see you now." the receptionist called across the waiting room, interrupting the slow filing of her nails for a brief moment "Please go in Mr Heath."

"The name’s Heart." George corrected her as he stood up.

"It must be a typing error." She said hesitantly. "I’m new here but I’m sure there can only be one of you on the books." She smiled. "Anyway, we mustn’t keep the doctor waiting."

George walked quickly across the waiting area, trying not to look out of the window. The Doctor’s offices were on the 4th floor and the thought of such a long drop made him feel quite queasy.

"Pleased to meet you." a remarkably young woman greeted him warmly. "You must be George. Take a seat while I have a look through your notes."

George wondered why his file seemed so large, especially as this was his first visit but he said nothing and waited for the doctor to finish reading. Eventually, she pushed back her glasses and sighed. "Quite a problem you have here." She said softly. "But I have helped a number people with this particular difficulty before and the results have all been quite satisfactory. How long have you felt like this?"

"For as long as I can remember." George replied honestly. "But its been getting much worse recently."

"Difficulties at work?"

"Yes of course." he shrugged. "Nobody seems to understand how serious it is and, unless I get some treatment, I’m not sure how long I can keep it hidden from my boss."

"Won’t your boss mind… I mean… If we can do something to help you, will they accept the new you back in the office?"

"I’m sure it’ll be ok." George said hesitantly, feeling slightly confused by the doctor’s questions. "Work has given me all the time off I need to get this thing resolved one way or another so I guess they’re happy with me seeing you."

"How about your wife?" the doctor asked, scribbling furiously in George’s file.

"I’m not married but it was my girlfriend’s idea to book an appointment with you. She’ll be overjoyed if you can help me but I think she might be expecting too much. She seems to think that I’ll be a completely new person after hypnosis."

"You’re lucky she’s so supportive." Miriam told him smiling broadly. "But the process won’t be quite that quick. However, even after a couple of sessions, you’ll soon feel much better about yourself and these difficulties you’ve been experiencing with guilt and shame will fade quite quickly."

"Guilt?" George asked.

"You won’t have to worry about that after today’s session." The doctor interrupted him. "You’ll be much less inhibited in an hour or so and all that nasty negativity will be a thing of the past once the hypnosis has helped you overcome your embarrassment about wearing female clothing."

George laughed nervously.

"I don’t think you understand." He said forcefully. That’s not why I’m…"The doctor silenced him with a wave of her hand as she set a metronome ticking slowly on her desk.

"Just listen to my voice George." She whispered softly. "And try to concentrate on the metronome. You’re going to sleep now and, when you wake up, you’ll feel much more at ease about wearing makeup and high heels."

George tried to speak but his lips refused to move. He sighed in resignation as his eyes began to close in time to the steady ticking, the true reason for his visit remaining unexplained as the doctor continued to soothe him with her soft but insistent voice. Before he could clarify his true situation, he drifted into a deep hypnotic trance and then he
remembered nothing until he woke an hour later.

"There, that’s the first session over." The doctor explained as she shook him gently. "You’ll feel more relaxed than normal for the next day or so but otherwise no ill effects. I’ll have Clare make an appointment for next week but, in the meantime, you should go straight out and buy yourself some cosmetics and a pretty new outfit. I see from your files, that you’ve always had a penchant for high heels and, now that we’ve dealt with any residual resistance, there’s really no reason at all why you shouldn’t indulge yourself. Will Tuesday be ok?"

George nodded sleepily.

"You’ve already got quite a petite figure." Miriam added nonchalantly as she closed his file. "But there’s a corset shop across the street if you’re feeling daring. I’ll also book you in to the clinic here immediately after your next session with me; they deal with a number of gender cases and they’ve got a wonderful beautician there who’ll really bring out the best in you."

Despite his surprise at this news, George smiled and, feeling decidedly shaky rose from the doctor’s couch. He said his goodbyes, surprised by how soft his voice now sounded and set off for the small flat he shared with his girlfriend Rachel.

The rest of the week passed in a daze. Rachel commented on how much better he seemed but, despite his apparent relaxation, George was confused. Ever since the appointment with Dr White, he had been struggling with disturbing thoughts, thoughts he could share with no one, least of all his girlfriend. For some reason, he could barely keep away from Rachel’s clothes and whenever she was out of the house, he would find himself inexplicably drawn to her dresser where he would sit and gaze absentmindedly at her plush cosmetics and lace underwear. It had taken almost all of his willpower to resist the overpowering urge to slip something on but, so far, he had not succumbed. He reminded himself to mention these embarrassing cravings to the doctor at his next appointment.

After a torturous weekend, George waved goodbye to Rachel as she left for work and then made his way to his now customary position next to her closet. After a week of temptation, there was nothing he could do to help himself and he slowly opened the closet door. Taking a pair of sheer black tights from the drawer, he draped them lovingly across his legs before selecting one of Rachel’s dresses from the darkness. He sighed as he ran the soft fabric through his trembling fingers. What was he doing?

Surely, he couldn’t actually be considering putting any thing on. George dropped the garments on the bed and made his way to the bathroom in desolation. He lathered his face and shaved and then, on a whim, ran the wet razor across the hairs on his legs. He gasped as he looked down and saw what he had done. A line of smooth damp skin greeted his gaze and, needing no more encouragement, he immediately set about removing the rest of the coarse hair from his legs. Not understanding why, but feeling much better now that he had finally given in to his new compulsions, he dried himself off and returned to the bedroom. Five minutes later, he was sitting comfortably in Rachel’s tights, openly admiring the lustrous sheen of his legs. Without really knowing what he was doing, he then slipped the dress over his shoulders and pulled the long zip closed up his back, feeling better by the minute as he finally acquiesced to the strange new obsession. Now in a state of some excitement, George rummaged around the bottom of the wardrobe until he found something suitable for his feet. Rachel was one or two sizes smaller but he eventually found a pair of high-heeled sandals that he could just about squeeze into. He gasped as he put them on, thrilling to the incredible sensation of
actually wearing stiletto heels for the first time.

Still not understanding what was happening, George could not deny how much better he felt in Rachel’s clothes. In heels, his shaved legs looked fantastic and he felt more relaxed than he had felt for days. He admired the smooth outline of his buttocks in the mirror and enjoyed the unfamiliar luxury of wearing such soft and flattering materials. Smiling at his discovery, the fact that he actually liked wearing women’s clothing now, George walked as gracefully as he could manage over to the phone and called in sick. The office wouldn’t miss him for another day and he had so much to do. By lunchtime, he had washed his hair and used some of Rachel’s gel to slick it back in a more feminine style and he had even applied a little foundation and mascara to his flushed face. Lipstick took a little more getting used to but he had never been particularly rugged in any normal masculine way and so even this began to look and feel more normal as the day wore on. By late afternoon, George felt completely at ease in his new outfit and even the heels seemed more comfortable after a day’s practise but he knew that Rachel would be coming home in an hour or so and, with some disappointment, he undressed and removed his makeup. He had just returned his girlfriend’s clothes to the cupboard when she arrived and greeted him with a warm kiss.

"You taste funny." Rachel commented, licking her lips. "And you look different too. Have you had your eyebrows plucked?"

"No, of course not." George replied, looking away. "I’ve just got out of the shower, that’s all. I’ve got another appointment tomorrow with the doctor and I wanted to make sure I was clean."

Rachel seemed satisfied with his answer and, smiling broadly, she hugged him close. "I don’t really mind anyway." She said. "You look better than you’ve looked for ages. Have you lost some weight too?"

George peered down at his waist. He had lost a little weight and, being rather slim for a man, his body did seem more svelte than he remembered.

The following morning, George set off for his appointment feeling happy and relaxed but still concerned about what had occurred the previous day. He had never shown any desire to wear women’s clothing before and, despite the obvious pleasure he had derived, the thought of actually becoming a crossdresser bothered him. Clare showed him into Dr White’s
office as before.

"Welcome back George... Or is it Georgina now?" she asked.

"I wanted to talk to you about that." he replied immediately. "I think there’s been some kind of mistake. I think you’ve been using the wrong…"

"Sleep." the command triggered an immediate response in George’s addled brain as he slumped into the chair.

"I wondered if we’d got the right person after our last session." Miriam purred to her deeply hypnotised patient. "But we made some enquiries and, having now contacted Rachel your girlfriend, she said that you have always suppressed your transsexuality. Consequently, I have decided to accelerate your therapy and, after this session, you’ll feel much less confused about your femininity. Under hypnosis, the ambiguities that have delayed your transformation can be dealt with quite easily and then, with all resistance eliminated, you will find it much easier to accept your new identity."

George tried desperately to speak but, with the incredible lethargy sweeping over him, all that escaped from his lips was a muffled grunt.

"During today’s session." The doctor continued. "Your personality will be subtly altered to help you accept your new sexuality. You will still be you of course but you will feel more sensitive and definitely more compliant than you have ever felt before. Of course, this will all be reinforced this afternoon when the beautician gives you a thorough
makeover. Then, once your face and body have also been suitably feminised, you will essentially be just like any other pretty young woman. Rachel told me how much you’ve been looking forward to this so I’m sure you won’t be disappointed."

George screamed silently but his sleeping body failed to give any indication of his horror at what was about to be done to him. His last conscious thought was how on earth Rachel could have planned all this.

George felt his hair being pulled gently when he woke and, as his eyes slowly adjusted to the bright lights of the salon, he saw himself in the mirror, his head covered in a tight rubber cap.

"Welcome back." A female voice said. "You’ve been sleeping for over an hour Georgina. We’re just finishing off your perm and applying a little bleach before completing your makeup."

Georgina? What was going on? He wanted to argue but, instead of his customary deep voice, a high-pitched alto sprang from his crimson lips. "Am I going to be blond?" he gushed, unsure of where the words came from.

"Platinum." The beautician replied proudly. "You’re going to look stunning."

George gasped as a torrent of post-hypnotic suggestions forced him into a state of near euphoria at this news. Despite his conscious mind still trying to come to terms with the true horror of his predicament, the pleasure he felt could not be denied and he found himself unable to contain his excitement any longer.

"I’ve always wanted to be a platinum blond." He lisped. "And the makeup looks fantastic. Can I buy cosmetics here?"

The beautician laughed. "Of course you can but I think that your friend Rachel has already taken care of that for you. She took most of my stock this morning. She said something about the bolder colours suiting the dresses and skirts she’s got for you at home. She showed me some of the outfits she’s bought you and, even though I’ve not got anything quite like it here for you today, you’re going to have a great time trying everything on."

George watched his glossed lips in the mirror as they parted in a genuine smile, the long dark lashes fluttering crazily around the dark pools of heavy eye-shadow and kohl. Even through the sheer white of his foundation, he noticed his rouged cheeks blush. As he turned, he felt the weight of his new earrings for the first time.

"Some of the underwear would be a little too risqué for me." The beautician added. "But, for two young woman sharing a flat, I suppose you’ll be going out looking for men together."

George felt himself shudder but his heavily made up features gave no hint of his concerns.

"Risqué?" he asked.

"I’ve never worn rubber myself." The beautician replied. "But she insisted it was what you wanted and I wish I was young enough to wear it. I didn’t realise latex clothing was in fashion."

George was then moved over to the basin where his hair was thoroughly washed before being placed under a drier. Half an hour later, the style was apparently set and the colour stable enough to be brushed out and curled. Looking at himself in the mirror, he could barely believe that he had once been male.

Rachel met him at the door as he teetered in on five-inch stiletto heels. George was wearing a figure-hugging dress made of metallic Lycra. His false breasts gave the impression of a perfect cleavage and, now wearing a strict corset, his figure looked fantastic. To all intents and purposes, George was now a perfectly proportioned and very attractive young woman

"Wow. You look great." Rachel stammered, seeing her fiancé wearing makeup and female clothing for the first time. "And your hair; is it a wig?"

"No." George giggled with his new girlish mannerisms. "They styled it for me at the clinic. You’ll have to get used to me being a ravishing blond from now on."

Rachel sighed, pulling him close before planting a deep kiss on his highly glossed lips. "I never expected your transformation to be quite this good." She explained breathlessly. "You look stunning George, quite beautiful in an
innocent sort of way."

"Innocent?" he asked, raising his plucked eyebrows as he spoke.

"Just a turn of phrase." Rachel clarified. "Don’t worry about it. You’ll look much more interesting tomorrow."

George walked with surprising confidence on his towering heels towards the bedroom. "I’ve got another appointment in a couple of days." He called from the doorway. "But I feel incredibly tired for some reason. Would you mind if I went to bed early?"

Rachel stared in amazement. He seemed so at ease in stilettos, his body moulded into the delicious curves of a glamorous woman and his face barely recognisable beneath the expertly applied cosmetics.

"My ears hurt too." He explained, turning his head slightly to show off the long drop earrings he was now wearing. "I’ve just had them pierced and they’re still a little sore unfortunately."

"Sure." Rachel replied. "It will take me a while to get used to seeing you like this anyway. I’ll lay out your clothes for tomorrow; you can try everything on in the morning."

George hesitated momentarily. "Are you sure you’re ok about all this Rachel?" he said softly. "I can’t even begin to explain how much better I feel now that I’ve finally gone through with it but it must be kind of strange seeing your boyfriend dressed as a woman, albeit a rather attractive one."

"You’re so sensitive now too." Rachel observed. "But no, I don’t mind at all. I think you look wonderful and, to tell you the truth, I’ve always felt more comfortable in female company. This probably isn’t the time for confessions but I’ve been confused about my sexuality for years. This way, I get to satisfy my curiosity about sleeping with other women and I also keep my boyfriend. What could be better? You’ll find out about my other little secret tomorrow."

George smiled, blowing Rachel an affected kiss as he retired. He waved with elegantly manicured fingers as he closed the bedroom door.

George woke early and, despite the deeply implanted suggestions, his appearance still startled him as he pulled down the lace coverlet that barely hid his new breasts. He slipped out of bed, taking a little time to enjoy the soft caress of his long silk nightgown, before making his way over to the dresser. He tidied his long blond hair and noticed for
the first time that Rachel had left some cosmetics on the dressing table.

He smiled before eagerly opening the foundation she had bought for him. He sponged it on the smooth skin of his face before setting it with a loose powder and starting on his eyes. Mascara and eyeshadow seemed to go on easily enough and, after a little practice with a large brush, he quickly applied a little blusher to highlight his prominent cheekbones.

He selected a bright crimson lipstick and, once it was dry, he sealed the colour beneath a shimmer of gloss. George completed his morning makeover with some more earrings.

Satisfied with his appearance, he then turned to the closet to find the clothes Rachel had put out for him. He gasped loudly when he saw what she expected him to wear. He considered waking her to state that there was no way he could ever possibly consider wearing such outrageous garments but then, noticing the beautiful high heeled shoes she had bought for him to accompany the outfit, he had second thoughts. The shoes were stunning, patent leather 7-inch stilettos with fetishistic padlocked ankle straps.

He groaned in confusion. The shoes were so tempting…

Thirty minutes later, he was finally ready. With his long blond hair draped elegantly across one shoulder, George made the final adjustments to his sleek latex corsellette, appreciating the way the tactile material held his stomach tightly and accentuated the soft roundness of his hips.

In rubber, his legs looked incredible and, even though he could barely feel his skin beneath the muted touch of shoulder-length latex gloves, he was already enjoying the impression of lascivious sexuality the clothes had afforded him.

The only other clothes Rachel had provided for him were a sleek red corset and an incredibly short rubber mini-skirt. The hem barely covered his panties but, enjoying himself immensely now, George had few doubts about putting it on. He gasped, seeing how much of his crotch was openly displayed but, beneath the tight membrane of black rubber, there was
little to remind him of his previous masculinity. He smiled before sealing the gleaming corset around his diminishing waist.

"Mmm…" Rachel purred as her fiancé sashayed into the kitchen, now seeming much more at ease in his 6-inch heels. "You look good enough to eat. Rubber suits you George."

"I guess it should be Georgina now." he said softly, running a perfectly polished nail around the hem of his skirt. "Dr White suggested that my transition would be easier if I took another name and ‘Georgina’ does seem more suitable somehow."

"That’s fine… Georgina…" Rachel stammered. "Now why don’t you come over here and give your girlfriend a kiss. I’ve been looking forward to this for ages."


Six months had passed since that first fateful appointment with Dr White and, even after such a long period of time, the deeply implanted hypnotic suggestions had shown no sign of weakening. Georgina woke early, as she often did now and began her preparations for the day ahead. George had resigned from his job at the office some months before and Georgina had settled quickly into a new career as a stylist at a local salon. The job offered her much more freedom than anything else she could have found and they even tolerated the outlandish rubber clothes and fetishistic heels she now wore every day.

After ‘the change’ Georgina’s relationship with Rachel blossomed but, encouraged by her perverse girlfriend, Georgina had inevitably found herself drawn to men and she was now dating a handsome young businessman called Tony. She smiled as she applied another coat of lipstick, anticipating their rendezvous later that evening. Tony was going to love
seeing her latest outfit; he was always incredibly aroused by rubber and heels. She could hardly wait…


You have until January 31 to pick the man who makes the prettiest girl (details here)!

Thursday, January 22, 2015

New Position

You have until January 31 to pick the man who makes the prettiest girl (details here)!

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Glum PA

You have until January 31 to pick the man who makes the prettiest girl (details here)!

Tuesday, January 20, 2015


You have until January 31 to pick the man who makes the prettiest girl (details here)!

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Am I Blue...2

Another blue outfit:

The blue velvet dress is from Kmart's Basic Editions line, found in a thrift shop in November 2011; I found the perfect shoes for it a year later in the same shop--Moda Spana pewter spike heel pumps. Other accessories are a silver bow, silver jewelry, silver belt, and natural hose.

And a portrait:

More pics on Flickr; more dressing in a week or two; and you have two weeks left to pick the man who makes the prettiest girl (details here)!

Friday, January 16, 2015

Am I Blue...1

These postings are so titled because of the blue color to the clothes involved.

The blue twinset is by Sag Harbor, found in a thrift shop in November 2012; the white skirt is by New York & Co., bought at Foreman Mills in June 2013: the shoes are Mossimo "Valonia" blue patent pumps from Target in March 2009. Other accessories are a blue bow, red jewelry and natural hose.

And a portrait:

More pics on Flickr; another set of clothes still to come; and you have two weeks left to pick the man who makes the prettiest girl (details here)!

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Just So Perfect

Chapter Five: The Gilded Cage

I'd never felt so beautiful in my life. My waist down to a fully restricted nineteen inches and my breasts prominently displayed by the low-cut, full-length satin gown that appeared to be painted on me. So tight it was a second skin!

My heels were a full six inches and the effect was to thrust me forward on my tiptoes. At the hem of the gown, the ruffles tickled my ankles deliciously as I minced around, ever the social butterfly. My coif was a lovely mass of never ending sculpted curls sprayed in place atop my head.

My make up and jewelry perfect! I felt a queen! A movie star!

First my grand entrance down the stairs on the arm of Ma'amselle, to be handed to mother. Mother leading me about, introducing me to her friends and the sissies accompanying them. Finally handed over to my Lucinda who would protect me always.

The clapping that followed mother's announcement of our impending wedding and the lovemaking that evening in bed. All of it so beautifully scripted, like a movie or play!

My education at the hands of Ma'amselle now intensified. My purpose was not only to become a suitable heiress, but a wife to Lucinda. Housekeeping, personal body services, party planning, and charm. I would become the perfect trophy sissy.

In addition, secretarial training for her legal office would be in order. I would learn the ropes, so to speak, in order to be able to help out.

Our wedding was planned for the June following my debutante party, with Prissy as my sissy of honor and Phoebe, Nelly and Betsy as sissy maidens. The location was Mother Melissa's ladies club. One of the members was married to a dominated Judge, and she had ordered him to conduct the ceremony.

I wore a mini style gown for practical reasons, and a wide brimmed southern belle hat. Hair up, I was the picture of demure virginity. I walked down the aisle with Mother Melissa, to the strains of the traditional "Here Comes the Bride."

At the altar however, I knelt, while my queen, Lucinda, in white tuxedo, her hair tied back, stayed standing. The nervous Judge read the vows and only hesitated a few times, once at "Do you Lucinda, take this sissy...?" Then again, when it was time to "...spank the bride."

My gown was raised and my panties pulled down. Before I knew it, Lucinda was laying into me with a folded leather belt. Each time she struck my rear I would shriek, count out loud the number of the stroke and add the words, "Thank you so very much Mistress." Thirteen strokes and I was officially her slave for life.

When it did come time to get kissed, I was a little wobbly, especially in such high heels, but Lucinda lifted me off the ground to make it easy for me.

On our way to the airport for our honeymoon in Europe, I thought of the last time I had been on a plane. The circumstances had been so different. You decide. For better, or for worse.


"Polly! We've got to get out of bed and dress! Lucinda could be home in an hour!" I admonish my maid. Polly had been asked by Lucinda to move in with us after our honeymoon.

Lucinda's business had really picked up, especially where my mother's social set was concerned. Her skill with special adoptions, identity changes and the like was quite sought after. She had gotten so busy that our sex life had dwindled to weekends only.

One afternoon, Polly had caught me masturbating in the tub and had decided to help out. Our noon time dalliances had escalated to "any chance we got."

I was really concerned, felt like a slut and wasn't sure how to handle it. Thus my concern this particular afternoon, that Lucinda might discover us.

"Well if she does find us here, she'll have to join us. Besides, it's Friday afternoon and should could probably use a rubdown from the both of us," Polly said in a very matter of fact way.

"Polly! Are you kidding? I dread the thought of what she may do if she discovers us like this!" I exclaimed, perturbed at her casual attitude.

She smiled, "You think she doesn't know? You think I'd have sex with my employer's wife, without her knowing? What kind of an ungrateful slut do you take me for, Vivian?" she asked, incensed.

"You mean she knows?" I asked, mystified.

"Of course she does. She's known all along. Whenever she's ready we'll have our first threesome," Polly said looking out the window, adding, "That's her now. Put on a nightgown and greet her. Offer to rub her feet. Fix her a drink. Spice up your marriage, sissy girl!" she ordered, smacking me on the butt and chasing me into the living room.

As Vivian came through the door, I took her briefcase and kissed her. She smiled saying, "It's about time, you little hot-pants minx. Get in the room. Is Polly there?" she asked.

"Yes love," I answered.

"Good! Get me a drink and the both of you get naked. I've a three-day weekend coming up. I intend to enjoy it," she said as I scurried to the kitchen.

Two hours later I lie spread-eagled on Polly's bed as she and Vivian "warmed up" in the next room. Some things change ever so slightly. Don't they?

The End

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

Monday, January 12, 2015

Just So Perfect

Chapter Four:
Sweet Sixteen Debutante

The day of my party had arrived. Mother had decided that it should be my true coming out. The house was filled with excitement. I could pretty much see that no matter what anyone thought, Lucinda was pretty much in charge. Maybe not of the party or the household, but definitely in charge of me.

She had decided that as part of my preparation, I should not only have my "bush" area shaved smoothed, but also be "milked" thoroughly, to prevent any immodest displays at my party.

For the occasion she had Polly and Abigail tie me spread-eagled to my bed that morning and bring scissors, a razor, shaving soap, a bowl of warm rinse water and a bottle of baby oil.

Ms. Pamela had arrived quite early to begin my hair. She had also brought her sissy trio of, Phoebe, Nelly and Betsy. Mother had decided they would serve dressed as sissy boy maids. That would mean full maids apparel but flat chests, to show everyone they were not anything but androgynous sissies.

They would also have to lisp when speaking and use limp wrists and effeminate mannerisms. Lastly, whenever introductions were in order they would say, "Hello, I'm Nelly (Betsy or Phoebe) and I'm a sissy." Embarrassing but amusing to the guests.

Lying on my back, awaiting my shaving and milking, my hair was set in pin curls and had been since Ms. Pamela had arrived with her entourage. It was also wrapped tightly in a scarf. And heavily jelled.

I didn't have much time to think though as Lucinda asked Polly, "Shall we shave her or milk her first, dear?"

"They're both messy propositions, ma'am, but I propose we shave her first," Polly said expertly.

Abigail laughed, saying, "Polly, before we start, tell Ms. Lucinda about your former charge Prissy."

When Lucinda looked at Polly with a questioning glance and smile, Polly began.

"My last charge, Prissy, will be here tonight. His Mother used to have Elaine come to the house to shave the sissy's bush into a heart shaped patch, bleach it and dye it "pink blonde" with Loreal hair color. It was adorable!" All the ladies got a real charge out of that one as Polly began to trim my pubic hair with scissors.

Second author's note: The following shaving procedure should be performed only in the privacy of one's bedroom, with the subject to be shaved, fully restrained. Soiling of overhead mirrors is very possible.

Having trimmed it short enough to begin shaving she turned the honors over to Lucinda, who began by using a perfumed soap to lather my entire genital region, which only served to intensify my arousal. It was quite unnecessary to restrain me to do the jobs at hand. Lucinda had done so to show her dominance over me. My helpless feelings would always serve to arouse me.

As she shaved me Lucinda chatted with the girls and massaged my exposed privates. I squirmed and whimpered which only encouraged her more. She had both maids put baby oil on the nipples of my hormone-induced breasts, in order to "condition the skin."

As I writhed and wriggled, everyone began to playfully pinch my butt. Upon the completion of my shaving, Lucinda began to clean off and then oil my entire genital region with baby lotion. Now I really became aroused! My penis and testicles swelled to engorged proportions!

To further intensify things she had Abby coat me with a warming love balm and fasten a cock ring at the base of my penis! Then as if that were not enough, Polly inserted a lubricated and rubber gloved finger in my anus!

My breaths came in short gasps and my whimpering turned to tears. As my eyes clouded, I begged for release. Not that she needed to, I would have done it anyway, but Lucinda picked this time to pop the question.

"Anything darling? Anything for release? How about becoming my slave for life? Marry me! Become my sissy bride. We'll announce it this evening," she laughed as she intensified her ministrations.

"Of course I will! Please darling? Let me come dear. I'm desperate! Yes, I'll be your sissy bride and slave for life. Please?! I begged frantically, for all to hear!

Indeed, at that moment, she released the cock ring and Polly quickly pulled out her finger. I literally erupted! My back arched, my body went into spasms and I screamed! I'm certain the entire household heard me but ignored it. After all this was the usual course of events when I was triple teamed.

I had no problem resting until it was time for me to be dressed, coifed and made up for this wonderful event.


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

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Just So Perfect

Chapter Three:
A Permanent Wave With Mummy

It was going to be a special, fun day. I was getting my first permanent in preparation for my sweet sixteen party. I had never been to a salon, although my hair had recently been colored.

Miss Elaine from Femme Fatale had come to the house at the request of Mummy and Lucinda. When Elaine had left I sported really deep, rich brunette locks, tinted with a light auburn highlighting. My ears had also been pierced for a second time.

This, my first salon trip and permanent, would take place at the aforementioned Palace of Perfection, owned by Pamela Fontaine. She had a special section for sissies. Entering a salon for the first time was quite a stirring event.

Being completely immersed in the sights, sounds and scents of women being fully beautified was really grand! The establishment was ultra feminine in both color scheme and decor. The music being played throughout was female and sexy. We were greeted by Madame Pamela herself. Just behind her, standing meekly was her well-trained assistant, the head shampoo sissy, Phoebe.

For this event my now shoulder-length hair was done up in a very adult French twist. My waist had been slimmed to a very girlish 21 inches. My satiny French cut bikini panties matched my white bra and corset.

By now, my ears sported both pearl studs and also a pair of silver hoops. On my feet were three-inch opened-toed black pumps. My stockings were cream colored with opaque patterns. My skirt and jacket were of matching white doeskin and my silk blouse matched my cream heels.

Phoebe took me from Mummy and led me to the rear of the salon, turning me over to one of the very special shampoo sissy trainees that Pamela's was noted for. Each of these special androgynous creatures were there to amuse the ladies and more or less warn the sissy clients of how well off they were being dressed as girls, instead of pure sissy boys.

While Mummy and Lucinda discussed my beauty treatment with Pamela, the excessively effeminate shampoo sissy boy, aptly named "Nelly", washed, conditioned and cream rinsed my reddish brown hair. He had placed a pink cape over my shoulders that covered me to my knees. He lisped, in a babyish voice, when he informed me he would be my attendant for the entire day.

His attire was garish, to say the least. His white tights shimmered. His hot pink leotards, with his printed name tag, Sissy Nelly, matched his ruffled pink tutu. He walked daintily in his white four-inch-heeled pumps. Probably around 21 years old, he gloried in his position as Pamela's assistant trainee for the day. His S shaped earrings also announced his sissy status.

Nelly was heavily perfumed. His eye make up was light but obvious and contrasted with his glistening red lips and nearly clownish red blusher. His champagne blond hair was done in a tight curly perm that he managed to pat and fluff out any time he preened in the mirror. He would also adjust the red satin bow pinned to the side of his hair.

I was very happy when Mummy, Lucinda and Pamela arrived, though not pleased that I was to be "fastened" to the elevated styling chair throughout the remainder of the beautification.

"These chairs were designed for reluctant sissies, Vivian. We realize you're thrilled to be getting a perm and makeover. However, it's fun for me to render my sissy girls helpless during any beauty treatment. It's also a reminder to them that they are completely under my control throughout the whole procedure," Ms. Pamela explained as she attached restraints to my ankles.

Mummy tightened a belt around my waist as my Lucinda made certain my wrists were snugly held in place at the arms of the chair. Nelly had been deemed "much too weak" to get the restraints tight enough.

Then Ms. Pamela checked the rotation, tilting and swiveling of the chair. The drier was on wheels, and the chair would reach the rinsing sink. I wasn't going anywhere for a few hours. I'd even be given a light snack while seated there. "If you want to read a magazine we can loosen your hands slightly. You'll be getting a manicure though, so you may not have time to read," Ms. Pamela offered.

Mummy and Lucinda both kissed me goodbye as they were going to go to the section of the salon reserved for real ladies. In addition to both of them getting trims, Mummy was getting a body wave put in and Lucinda a wet roller set. They both admonished me to "Be a good girl."

As Pamela began my light trim, Nelly prepared the items need to perm my hair.

"You've only a few split ends, Vivian. Your hair is very healthy. It should perm nicely," Pamela offered. Once she finished my trim, she began the very involved and tedious process of giving someone a permanent wave.

Author's Note: If a complete description of getting a permanent wave excites you, then I should warn my readers to read the following passage with a handkerchief in your free hand.

First, she sectioned my hair carefully using a thin pick comb. Nelly was holding a tray full of perm rods of different colors. The largest rods seemed to be the darkest in color. Any attempt on my part to move my head in any direction other then that which Ms. Pamela had placed it in resulted in a stern warning from my hairdresser.

She would return my head to her desired position and say firmly. "Do not move a muscle, Vivian! Continue in this vein and I'll be putting you in my special 'Wriggling Sissy' neck brace and harness!" She wasn't kidding and I knew it. I held still.

Then she proceeded in rolling and wrapping my perm using multiple sized, plastic, wave rods and papers. It appeared to me that the smaller rods were placed in the top and front, medium on the sides and the largest in the back. Also apparent was that waving rods were rolled much more tightly against the scalp than rollers used for setting hair.

The effect was very uncomfortable. "You need not worry Vivian. When you experience the results of this deluxe treatment you'll forget the pain and only recall the pleasure," Ms. Pamela assured me.

Throughout the entire procedure, she played the role of surgeon and Nelly, appropriately enough, nurse. She simply would reach her hand out, expecting the next item to be placed in it, quietly saying something like, "Red, Nelly," she would say, referring to the color rod she wanted. Then she may add statements such as, " I'll need the solution shortly. She's almost wrapped. Time for the cotton. You wipe her brow and face, her hands are restrained."

Once she was satisfied my roll up was tight enough and complete, she took a cotton wrap, tucked it underneath the rods all the way in back and pulled the whole mass of hair and rollers, up and to the front tying the cotton wrap in a tight knot.

Nelly snipped the end off a plastic bottle of perm solution and Pamela began moving the bottle across each rod and paper section, insuring that each was completely covered. Nelly used a cotton cloth to make certain that none of the solution entered my eyes or stayed on my skin.

Once each section was covered, she moved the bottle around in a circular motion to empty it. My head was now a glistening mass of wet perm solution soaked hair.

There were two things I wasn't ready for. One was the way the solution made the roll up get even tighter! The other was the way the odor from the very smelly perm solution assaulted my nostrils! It's a scent I'll never forget! Even today when I get a perm I recall it just as the beautician begins the application!

In addition, every time I wash my hair for the next few weeks the scent seems to come back. The strange thing is this. Whenever I've made love to either Polly or my Lucinda, and they've just had a perm, the scent on their hair arouses me!

Once my hair follicles were saturated, Nelly rolled the drier over to me and Pamela put an adjustable plastic cap on my head, pulling the drawstring tightly. Unless you've had a perm though, you don't know tight or smelly, until the drier begins to whir on high heat.

The sensation to the scalp and nostrils is absolutely incredible! The aroma of the solution seems to permeate throughout my entire sense of smell, and the rods become so incredibly tight that it feels painfully delicious! I actually love it! On the other hand, I've seen sissies who burst into tears at even the mention of getting a permanent wave.

My fondest recollection of a couple of sobbing sissies was just prior to my wedding. The flower girl and ring girl were to be a couple of recently transformed twin boys about 16 years old. Mummy and I stopped by the house while they were weeping their way through their first home perm! Both their mummy and nanny couldn't keep from giggling and neither could we!

I survived my first perm and many more since then. I love getting one! I love salons! I love the total experience of being permitted in this "inner sanctum" of femininity!

While the drier whirred, both Nelly and Pamela got on either side of me, took off my wrist bindings and began my manicure. My nails had grown quite long and Polly and Ma'amselle had shown me how to keep them filed, clean, and polished.

After soaking my hands in a scented cream, they cleaned my cuticles. After drying my hands, they began the application of a clear polish. Then two coats of a dusky, reddish brown shade by Gina Fabu, called cherry cinnamon. Finally, just about the moment the timer on the drier went off, they applied my clear sealer coat.

Lifting the drier bonnet Ms. Pamela removed my plastic cap, and loosened one rolled up section of hair to check the texture of the curl. She cautioned me to hold my fingers spread and not touch anything as the sealer was very slow drying.

Satisfied the perm had taken, she had Nelly move the drier away and snip the top off a bottle of perm neutralizer. She then rotated the chair, tilted it back and began to rinse my hair in the sink.

Nelly watched smiling before handing Pam the neutralizer. Pamela then saturated my head with this equally smelly chemical and turned to Nelly saying, "Once I begin her comb out you can get out of those silly clothes and go to lunch with Phoebe."

Nelly asked her what he should wear. "Didn't you wear a nice kilt and top set to work this morning? That would be fine," she answered, somewhat perturbed at this sissy's inability to make a very simple decision.

Then she gave him instructions on a lunch time errand she wanted him to run. "Before coming back, I want you to pick me up some strawberry douche, some musk scent vaginal spray and some maxi pads. Don't forget or you'll be in my French poodle sissy house all week," she cautioned the now red-faced sissy.

Pamela looked at her watch and began my second rinse out. Once that was complete she lifted the chair until it was straight up before removing my rods, papers and cotton wrap, handing all the used utensils to Nelly. It was then I saw the faint beginnings of my new "do". Springy, bouncy curls of different sizes, gracing my head, the beginning of my new "crowning glory."

"Oh goodness Vivian you are going to look so lovely! When is your party, a couple of weeks from now? I'll be there early. Elaine from Femme Fatale also. We may be competitors, but we both want to help beautify you. Nelly dear, before you leave. Isn't there something you wanted to ask Vivian?" Pamela looked at the sissy, prompting him.

"Miss Vivian. I would be honored if you would permit me to wait on your guests at your sweet sixteen party. I'll wear anything you want," he said very sweetly.

"I'll have to ask my mother, Nelly. I'm sure it will be okay though," I stated.

Just then, both mother and Lucinda, fully beautified and smelling lovely, came into my private booth and closed the curtain. Lucinda's roller set had left her honey blonde, medium length hair in a darling, bouncy, pageboy. Mother's body wave had given her strawberry colored, chin length bob, a subtle curl and slight wave.

After they confirmed that Nelly could serve at the party, he left for lunch happily, and all three ladies began to discuss my final comb out and make up. During their discussion, yet another sissy attendant, Betsy, brought me plate of diced melon, and a bottle of distilled water.

Lucinda fed me as if I were a child, only allowing me to use my hands for sipping the drink provided.

"Why don't I get Gladys in here for the make up and I'll do the comb out?" Ms. Pam asked.

Everyone agreed and Ms. Pam used her cell phone to call Ms. Gladys, a full-figured matronly type to the private booth. Together they began to prettify me as Mummy and Lucinda looked on proudly. Some really pretty Latin music was playing. A woman was singing a love song in heavily accented English.

The whole "salon experience" was about to not only unfold but culminate for me in a very big way. Unbeknownst to me it had been carefully planned and was about to be executed for my benefit and for everyone else.

As Ms. Pamela began to mousse my head full of curls from behind me, Gladys, off to the side, applied a skin cleanser and then started on my foundation. Mother was seated in a lounge chair reading and Lucinda was refastening my wrist restraints.

It was then I realized there was more to my beauty treatment then I had bargained for. As the two operators cooed to me abut what a lovely girl I had become, Lucinda raised my buttocks by placing a velvet-covered pillow on the salon seat. My doeskin skirt was raised up, and my satiny French cut bikini panties pulled to my knees.

Pamela was now alternating between finger styling my ever so curly hair, and blowing it with a drier. She was making it full and sensuous, occasionally spraying it with heavily perfumed hair spray. When finished she attached a jeweled comb to the side and allowed Gladys to get on with my make up.

Foundation in place, Gladys used a lipstick to blush my cheeks and then blended my eye make up. With a lip liner, she defined the outer edges of my puffed lips. Among the injections, I'd received from Dr. Irene had been collagen shots. I now had the adorable lips of a teenage Lolita.

Then Ms. Gladys stood back and said to Lucinda, "Before I use this tube of Creamy Ginger Matte lipstick by Gina Fabu, could you take care of our darling's little sissy clitoris? It seems to have swollen."

It was true. I was highly aroused and in dire need of sexual release. Here in the salon, though? Yes. In the salon.

Lucinda began a manipulating of my penis as she told me to stare in the mirror and look at the "helpless, beautiful creature" staring back at me. Everything came together. The sights, scents and sounds of this plush, beautiful salon. The lovely, wonderfully perfumed dominant ladies. The sexual stimulation of the full day.

Neither Polly, Abigail nor Ma'amselle had relieved me that morning, so I was ready to explode. As I reached my peak, Lucinda nodded to Gladys, who filled in my lip outline with the creamy reddish brown lipstick. As she stood back, it was all I could take. I screeched, shivered, shook and tingled, to a jerking orgasm, my creamy sissy fluids, splattering on the mirror in front of me.

As the ladies cooed and smiled, Lucinda hugged me. "Ladies I think our princess has had enough for one day. Why don't I release her from her bindings and we'll meet everyone at the salon office shortly," my true love said.

Before we left the room together Lucinda asked me, "You know that you are mine don't you angel?"

"Oh yes Lucinda! I want nothing more then to be your slave!" I exclaimed truthfully.

"Beautiful!" she said. "Let's remember this moment," she added as she propelled me from the booth.


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

Saturday, January 10, 2015

Just So Perfect

Chapter Two:
Training and Beautification

I was dressed that first morning pretty much like a young girl of ten or possibly twelve, who was just beginning to outgrow dollies and playing house. Before really clothing me, Mme. Celia would introduce me to my first "modesty device" and corset.

For the time being, my gaffing would be mild. A simple, and slightly restrictive, panty brief. I wouldn't be "tucked, or worse yet, taped, unless I become "immodest at inopportune times." My corseting, however, was to be strict and severe, starting with an everyday, three-inch reduction in my waistline, working towards a "plus five" slimming of my waist for special occasions.

Even with my present waist size (27 inches), that would put me at 22 inches. Considering that Ma'amselle had discussed me losing another ten pounds, instead of the aforementioned "plumping up," I'd probably be a diminutive nineteen inches or less, before my training was done.

This first morning, once my panty brief and panties were put on, I was put into white tights and two-inch heeled, tee-strap pumps. I was then mince-marched to the lacing pedestal and my hands were attached to the lacing bar. It was then raised until I was on tiptoes. Dr. Irene, Ma'amselle and Polly were present.

As Ma'amselle and Polly began to lace me in, Dr. Irene warned, "Only take her in three inches ladies. She should be no less then a twenty-four inch waist when you're done. We don't want her fainting," she said with mild concern. She held a sewing tape and checked me each time the ladies took in the laces, announcing the result.

"Twenty-five. Very nice and our princess is still conscious. Feeling okay, Vivian dear?" she asked sweetly, patting my now plump butt.

The results of this type of figure training was to give one a flat tummy, and a defined waist, while plumping up the rear, and forming an area of flesh to resemble a woman's breasts. The effect was one of looking very sleek and svelte. I was near fainting when they had finished, but after a brief respite at the vanity bench, I was ready to continue being dressed.

The fleshy mounds the corseting had produced were soon encased in a firm, scalloped bra with padded cups. I had been given about a 36 A cup chest. Next, a pink fluffy sweater was pulled over my turbaned head. It had a plunging neckline, and the bottom came to mid thigh. This was followed by a charcoal gray pleated, poodle skirt that stooped just short of my knees. I was then seated for my hair and make up.

Polly made me stare straight into the vanity. Behind me, I could see Dr. Hoffman leave and Ms. Lucinda, my aunt's attorney, enter. Lucinda smiled and took a seat to the right, and behind me. She watched attentively, fingers of one hand to the side of her face, as Polly unfastened the tight turban while Ma'amselle set out my make up, and readied the ear-piercing tool.

Ms. Lucinda spoke up as Polly began to remove my curlers, exposing bouncy, spirally sausage-like curls that had been formed by the vertical setting pattern. "Irene will be piercing her ears, won't she, Ma'amselle? After all as a doctor she would observe the highest standards of hygiene," she stated firmly.

Ma'amselle, not thrilled with the question, snapped back, "I hadn't planned on it Ms. Robbins. Would you care to do it?"

Not to be outdone, and in a surprising moment of gallantry, my Lucinda stated, "No, Ma'amselle. As I said--I, as the attorney, in a questionable identity change such as this, would prefer a physician perform any surgical changes, even as minor as an ear piercing. Especially when a physician is present, and the lovely child in question is a minor. Is that clear, Ma'amselle?" she asked rising and coming to my side.

"Yes, it's quite clear, Ms. Lucinda. In any event, my employer will hear of this interference of my duties," said Ma'amselle, leaving the room.

How exciting! I had two of them ready to fight for my honor!

Polly nervously fluffed my hair as Lucinda came towards me, placing her hand on my shoulder. "Leave her hair springy and curly like this, Polly. Touch it up with some jell and spray. Here. I'll do it, Polly. You start on her makeup. Her hair is so lovely!" Lucinda exclaimed, touching me and fussing all over me.

"This shade of medium brown just needs some highlights. I think we should keep her in curls. Wait until Elaine at Salon Femme Fatale gets through with her. A permanent wave will be perfect!" she added, surprising me with her sudden interest.

"I believe she'll be going to Pamela's Palace initially," Polly stated.

"Really? I prefer Salon Femme, but I guess Pamela's is better for novice sissies," Lucinda said, as she pecked me on the cheek. Her new-found attention towards me was flattering and I hoped we could soon pursue it in private.

Once Polly finished off my make up with some creamy coral pink lipstick, I was posed in front of the mirror to view my colorfully beautified face. The blend of pinks, reds, and assorted pastel shades, made me look cute and innocent. My aunt would be quite thrilled! My sausage-like, Shirley Temple curls glistened and bounced. I myself felt pleased.

First though, I was taken to Ma'amselle, for my first day of high-heel practice, charm lessons and skirt management classes. "We'll have Irene do your ears after lunch, pumpkin," Lucinda stated as she looked back over her shoulder for Ma'amselle's reaction.

Ma'amselle proved to be a tireless taskmistress. She drilled me precisely, to different music, first in walking. I was to take dainty, short steps, with just a slight wiggle to my hips, my hands held "just so," my posture erect, my attitude demure. Most of the day went fine, until shortly before dinner when I sustained an erection during my clothing change.

Polly was putting me into a sweet, gingham frock, with a many-tiered petticoat underneath. The rustling of the lace and it's rubbing against my legs, produced a swelling of my penis. Only she and Lucinda were present.

"Polly have her lie on the bed, and put her petties over her head. Would you like to relieve her?" the attorney asked?

"No ma'am, I'm not supposed to unless I speak with Ma'amselle first," Polly stated nervously.

"Well then Polly, run along, I'll bring our princess to dinner. You may speak with Ma'amselle of this during tonight's conference. In the meantime, I can deal with our little show of excitement here," Lucinda said smiling.

With my petties over my head, she took some Vaseline and began stroking me while cooing to me. She told me she would take care of me anytime I became swelled up and I should just be careful whom I became erect around. When I did come, she smothered my penis with a satiny scarf. I had to have my makeup repaired because of the tears that came to my eyes.

I was very quiet at supper. During the conference, which everyone attended, the vote was five to one to curb my boyish swellings by frequent ministrations. Ma'amselle was the only one to vote for tighter gaffing and taping.

"Polly, you and Abigail may take turns, massaging Vivian's pelvic region until she is properly relieved of her tension. I would say a minimum of four times daily. Once upon awakening. Once at bedtime. Also before and after her afternoon nap. That's the bare minimum," my aunt stated firmly.

"I would also say it would be a good idea to see that she is properly relieved before any visitors come, or before any outings," Dr. Irene added.

"I agree," said Lucinda, looking deeply into my eyes. "Ladies who adore little sissies, tend to fuss over them and fondle them obsessively. The poor darlings can't deal with it," she stated as she puckered her lips and blew me a kiss.

Ma'amselle was none too thrilled with the results of the vote, and I would get my share of over the knee spankings in the days that followed. She'd use any reason. One reason, which seemed to be a catch all, was "failure of effeminacy."

Lucinda and Irene left after the weekend to their respective jobs and homes. Aunt Melissa had her stock brokerage to take care of, so I was pretty much under the care of Polly, Abigail and Ma'amselle during the day.

Time passed quickly. I noticed that my body had begun to change. The creams and lotions probably contained some type of hormone as did my vitamins and the doctors occasional injections.

My voice became more girlish as did my mannerisms and attitude. When Aunt Missy thought it would be cute to put me into a maid's outfit like Abby and Polly, I said not a word. Ribbon streamers and all, I would do house work, wait on her friends, curtsey and called her mummy dearest, much to the pleasure of everyone.

One occasion for this type of Fifi maid dress up was the occasion of my legal adoption becoming final. Because I had progressed so beautifully, Aunt Missy and everyone else concerned had decided to make my "legal" age closer to 16, to be more realistic.

It was a really lovely party and Lucinda seemed quite enthralled with my uniform and submissive role-play. At bedtime after mummy had kissed me goodnight, my door opened. The scent of the perfume was distinct. Opium. That meant it was my Lucinda! My heart beat rapidly. I was a 20-year-old male in theory only. In reality, I acted as a simpering schoolgirl in love. A true sweet 16-year-old.

"I was actually going to wait until we had your sweet sixteen party a few weeks from now, but I decided I really couldn't stand it. Don't worry my prissy one, you're in good hands. I've made love to pantywaists quite frequently. I'll take care of you.

Our lovemaking was intense, her taking the lead. I actually passed out in her arms from my second orgasm, fully drained and spent. I awoke and waited on my love as a maid would wait on her mistress--combing her dark brown hair, oiling her creamy white skin.

I served her breakfast, topless, at her request, Polly bringing the food to my room. She left, kissing me and promising me more. Shortly after, Ma'amselle and Polly came to my room, for another day of training.


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

Friday, January 9, 2015

Just So Perfect

Another story from Priscilla Gay Bouffant

Chapter One:
Sissy Novitiate Vivian

I couldn't believe it! My trust fund cut off! That bitch of an attorney had refused to give me Aunt Melissa's new address or phone number. She'd only softened after I'd told her the depth of my problems.

"So you're not only penniless, you have a drug addiction. Intravenous usage?" she asked.

"No. I snort it. I ingest it nasally. I'm still addicted though. Not only that, I owe some pretty big dealers a lot of money. They've threatened to kill me. Please help me Ms. Robbins. Tell Aunt Melissa I'll do anything she wants me to do," I whined, hoping she'd pity me. It worked.

"I'll contact your aunt. I can't promise a thing. Call me this evening 8 p.m. at this number. I'll have some sort of answer then. Call collect of course," she added condescendingly. At the appointed time, I returned her call. She gave me the most bizarre set of instructions, and conditions possible. "These come directly from your aunt. Under no other circumstances will she assist you at all. If you violate one condition or instruction, it will be jail or the drug dealers. Do I make myself clear, William?" she asked very firmly.

"Yes, Ms. Robbins," I answered meekly.

"Good," she replied. "Now get to the airport. Once you're on the plane, get rid of your identification. Remember. The people meeting you at the airport in Long Island will be two women. To throw anyone off, they'll be holding up a sign with the name 'Vivian' on it. They will take you to your aunt's new estate. It's a ways from the city. Oh! By the way, Your aunt is very concerned over your physical condition. She'll be sending her personal physician to the airport. She'll ride in the limousine with you to the estate. I'd hurry if I were you. Your plane leaves in three hours." She said as she hung up.

My prepaid ticket was there, and as soon as I got on the plane, I got rid of my identification in the restroom. The flight was non-stop so no one would be asking for it. The coast to coast trip was around six hours, so I curled up and slept some. During my waking hours I thought of all the changes, I'd been told I would have to make.

I'd been instructed to bring no clothing, belongings or anything. I'd be getting a whole new wardrobe. In addition, I'd have some sort of tutor to learn new manners and skills. Accordingly, this tutor would be teaching me a whole new disciplined lifestyle. The idea was to make me over into a whole new person. My aunt would be using her connections to get me a whole new identity.

As the plane landed at Long Island, I really began to feel safe and secure for the first time in quite a while. The flight arrived in the early morning hours. Getting off the plane and entering the terminal I looked around and saw a woman holding a sign with the name "Vivian Baker" written on it. No question about that one. Baker was Aunt Missy's last name. She rarely let people use her nickname however, and preferred Melissa.

Walking up to the women, I said what I'd been told to say by the lawyer, "I'm Vivian, can you take me to my mummy's house?" They both smiled and one answered, "Of course we can pumpkin, I'm Abigail, the chauffeur, and on occasion serve as Miss Melissa's maid. This is your new governess, Madame Celia. We'll be happy to help you find your new mummy."

A weird exchange indeed, but according to Ms. Robbins, needed to throw anyone at the airport off. I followed these ladies to the limousine and was helped into the back, which was occupied. The rear seats faced each other, and seated on one was a lady who introduced herself as Dr. Hoffman. The other lady, with her seat facing forward was Ms. Robbins. Both were attractive, like Abigail and Madame Celia, well-dressed, and heavily perfumed. There was no partition between the front and back as there was in some limousines.

"Welcome, Vivian," said Ms. Robbins, "why don't you relax and permit Dr. Hoffman to examine you. We're concerned about the possibility of drug withdrawal." Though I wanted to explain to her I'd appreciate the use of my real name, I didn't have the time as the doctor, seated next to me, began to check my pulse, blood pressure, heart rate, look in my eyes with a light, and anything else she felt like doing.

"Hmmph, said the doctor, "I think we should give her a mild injection," as she readied the needle and syringe. "She's experiencing the early stages of withdrawal onset, right now."

Again, I wanted to protest the use of the "her" to describe me, but hadn't the time, as she rolled up my sleeve, saying, "Ms. Robbins, why don't you hold Miss Vivian steady. We don't want to hurt our little princess due to the motion of the vehicle."

Ms. Robbins did more than hold me steady, she seized me by the arms at my shoulders! As the fluid went in my arm, I felt a slight prick, but no pain at all. Instead I experienced a calm feeling of well being, and relaxed. I lay back for a moment and then looked at both the ladies, and smiled. Ms. Robbins was pouring a drink into a small glass, from a tumbler.

"Have some of this Vivian, she said." As I went to reach for the glass, I realized I was so relaxed, I couldn't move a muscle. Nothing. My body was like a limp rag doll.

"I can't reach it, Ms. Robbins," I whimpered.

"Poor dear. We'll have to help her, won't we, doctor?" she asked, amused. The doctor held my head still, as Ms. Robbins carefully put the glass to my lips. "Sip daintily, Vivian dear. You're a sweet little girl now. We want your new mummy to be proud of you, when she finally sees you."

I sipped obediently, realizing fully I was helpless. The constant references to me in the feminine were still troubling, but I was sure they would soon explain. I was already fairly certain that my new lifestyle and identity wasn't going to include much of a masculine atmosphere. How far these ladies intended to feminize me was yet to be seen.

"By the way Madame Celia, she is in a terrible need of a bath," the doctor called to the front.

"Yes doctor, I know. She'll be bathed, scrubbed for that matter, in bath salts and gel, with lots of pretty bubbles. Sweet smelling bubbles of course. Once we've dried her, Polly and I will lotion, powder and perfume her, quite heavily. She'll smell like a heavenly field of flowers. Wait until you meet Polly, my angel. Your mummy has hired you quite a pretty personal maid," Madame added, reaching back to pat me on the shoulder.

Finally, Ms. Robbins asked Dr. Hoffman, "Do you think we should tell our fair young lady, what's in store for her?" The doctor nodded and both these ladies alternated, telling me how Aunt Melissa intended to pull off my identity change. She intended to pose me as her new, adopted, 14-year-old daughter! Not only would my supposed gender be changed, I would experience an age reduction of five years!

"Don't worry about a thing," Dr. Hoffman added, "You're not a bad size at all for a 14-year-old girl. In fact, we may have to plump you up a little. She looks to be five six, maybe 125, wouldn't you say Ms. Robbins? Also dear, you have no fear of a sex change. I wouldn't do that unless you requested it," she said in a matter of fact fashion.

Though I was near fainting, I held off, closing my eyes, hoping it was a bad dream. It wasn't however. The three-hour or so ride to the upper part of the state seemed to take forever. During the ride, they filled me in further on the fate that awaited me.

Ms. Robbins began, "That sweet-tasting syrupy drink we gave you was a tranquilizer. We realize, of course, we can't keep you drugged and tranquil forever. We also realize that Madame's punishments won't work forever either. So, it will be up to you to cooperate with your transformation."

"Why would I do that?" I asked dreamily, still rebelling slightly.

"Because, you don't have a choice. Not only are the drug dealers after you, so are the police. I checked," the attorney said smiling. "You won't last two days on the streets. Either jail, where you'll become some big hulk's girlfriend, or you'll wind up shot by your dealer friends," she added for effect.

"Okay. What are you offering me?" I asked, my eyes tearing up.

As she wiped them with a scented tissue, Dr. Hoffman interjected, "A life in the lap of luxury. You'll be raised as the pampered, adopted daughter, of a very wealthy woman. You'll have your own maid to wait on you, a governess to privately educate you. You will have the best couteriers to make your clothing, the best cosmetologists to pamper and beautify you. You'll want for nothing and you'll inherit everything.

"No one will suspect a thing. All Ms. Robbins has to do is make a few phone calls, grease the right palms, and on paper you'll become Ms. Baker's foster daughter, eligible for adoption in six months. We even have a brief biography made up for you for the past 14 years," she closed as Ms. Robbins picked it up.

"The police and the dealers are looking for a 19-year-old male, not a 14-year-old female. Trust me, we can pull it off. If you're not sold in 90 days, tell us. You'll be given a limited access to your trust fund. Enough to give you a start. Also a fake passport, and a ticket to wherever you desire. No strings attached," the attorney stated firmly. "That will of course be the last help you'll get from Ms. Baker," the lawyer added ominously.

I thought about it and finally said, "Okay, for 90 days I'll give it a shot.

"Excellent," Dr. Hoffman said, "Your lifestyle will appear unusual, but trust me, it will grow on you."

Leaning over to me, and whispering in my ear, Ms. Robbins added, "Arrangements will also be made, privately of course, for occasional female companionship. This is between you and I. Repeat this, and it will never happen." Strangely enough, she rubbed my leg affectionately as she said this.

When we finally did arrive at the mansion, I was still too drugged to walk. Polly, my maid, came to the limousine with a wheelchair. I was carefully helped in to it. "She'll be living downstairs, while she convalesces," Madame Celia told Polly, adding, "Vivian is in dire need of a thorough bathing and scenting, Polly. Let's get started."

We made our way through the huge and very lovely downstairs to my bedroom. It had to be one of the most girlishly decorated rooms I had ever seen. I grew to think of it as the "Little Princess Room."

Everywhere, there were pinks, whites and baby blues. A huge canopied bed, a settee, and a dressing platform. The platform stood in front of a full-length mirror, and was beneath a lacing bar for my figure training. Mirrors were everywhere in fact. All the framed photos, portraits, paintings and prints were of elegantly attired and dramatically coifed ladies, with full beautiful make up.

I also had a full vanity with bench and a professional hair dryer with its own seat. Several dressers, a full walk-in closet, all nearly overflowing with apparel. A large bathroom, with attached sauna, a sitting room, and a massage table completed this gorgeous suite. Too bad I would occupy it as a female, I thought to myself.

A rubber sheet was placed on my bed and I was helped up to it by Madame and Polly. I was stripped of my clothes and placed back in the wheelchair. Then we moved towards the bathroom. We waited at the doorway as Polly ran the steamy water and mixed in the bath salts, bath gel and bubble bath. Madame turned to Dr. Hoffman and asked, "If we don't have to give her any more shots, when will she be able to walk on her own?"

"Well, I'll stay here for the weekend, unless I'm called out. We could probably just keep her tranquil, no narcotics." Looking at her watch she said, "Let's see, it's noon Friday. We could tranquilize her for 24 more hours. If we stop the shots with the one we gave her in the car, she should be able to come to breakfast, fully on her own power. She could even walk to supper with someone at her side," she answered expertly.

In short order, I was lowered in the tub. The hot, perfumed water was very comforting. Polly put on a rubber apron and got to work. Her first order of business was to give me a complete body shave. As she worked on me expertly, Madame moved me around for the maid's convenience.

The doctor watched and then said to Madame, "I hadn't thought about it, but the bath may reduce the effect of the injection I gave her. She may walk even better at supper. It will depend on her ability to walk in heels and the size heel you put her in." Looking at her watch she added, "I'm going to find Ms. Robbins and Miss Melissa. Beep me if you should need me. I doubt you will though. I believe Vivian is going to behave. Aren't you, Vivian?"

I'm not sure why, maybe it was the way she looked at me. Maybe it was the ministrations of Polly, possibly it was the warm scented perfumed bath. For some reason though, I felt safer and more secure then I'd been in months, so I said, "Yes ma'am, I'll behave. I'll be a real good little girl." When the words came out, no one including me expected such a sweet submissive response. It was a foreboding of things to come.

I was thoroughly scrubbed, shampooed and conditioned. Once out of the tub I was helped to a massage table and dried off with fluffy towels, powdered, rubbed down with lotion and heavily perfumed with a little girl scent called Tinker Belle. Then I was helped to a chair in front of the vanity.

"I'm going to cut and shape your hair and set it," said Polly, "Then Ma'amselle Celia and I will serve you a light lunch and dress you for bed. You'll be wakened for supper with your new mother. It will be served in her sitting room so your bed clothes will be appropriate. The same will be done for breakfast tomorrow morning. Following that, get ready for some serious figure training and charm lessons," she said ominously.

In short order my hair was set with jell and rollers. The cutting Polly had given me left me with most of my length, nearly to my shoulders. My bangs were trimmed even and rolled on small curlers. The rest was set in a vertical pattern and wrapped tightly in a pink scarf. My eyebrows were plucked, trimmed with scissors and even lightly shaved, until they were practically gone.

After my light lunch of soup and salad, I was dressed in ruffled sissy panties and a cute baby dress. I was given a little French poodle stuff toy, named Fifi, and helped into bed.

Finally I was kissed on the cheek by both Polly and Ma'amselle, and told to curl up in the fetal position, put my thumb in my mouth and "Go to sleepy bye." I was very soon off to sleep, hugging Fifi. When I finally awoke, I realized it was the most peaceful sleep I had experienced since I was a child.

I was given a dainty pink bed jacket to wear over my baby dress, and a pair of white anklet socks with black patent-leather Mary Janes were placed on my feet. My scented scarf was removed from my head, and a stretch turban, pink in color to match the dress and jacket was put in its place. The turban had a ribbon in the front that when pulled, drew it quite tight about my head. Once Polly had pulled it sufficiently tight, she tied the ribbon in a big bow.

She now pronounced me "perfectly prissy enough" to have dinner in mummy's sitting room. Polly assisted me to the sitting room. Just outside the door, she had me stop and practice a few curtseys. I grabbed the hem of my pink ruffled baby dress with one hand, dipped into a sweet curtsey, and held the other in the air, fingers spread and wrist ever so daintily limp. "Hello mummy Melissa, it's so nice to see you," I stated.

I had to wait outside the doorway after the uniformed maid knocked and entered. I should say at this point that Polly was now wearing a beautifully decorated pink satin English maids outfit, complete with lacy cap with darling ribbon streamers attached to the cap, falling midway down her back.

Before entering the room, I waited for Polly to say, "Madame Melissa, your new foster child and future daughter, Sissy Missy Vivian Baker would love to dine with you." I proceeded into the room, and did my curtsey and said my practiced line, as Mummy Melissa came forward and smothered me with hugs and kisses. She held me at arms-length to look at me and then proceed to take me over to the dining area of her sitting room.

"Polly, could you assist me in lifting my precious angel to her seat of honor?" In one motion she and Polly lifted me to a comfortable, straight backed seat off to the side of what appeared to be a sort of breakfast bar. Seated there I could eat and still be more or less on display, so to speak. Mirrors were located around and near me, so whenever I might look away from my food or whomever I was talking to I would see my ultra-feminine reflection.

The entire house, or at least the areas where I lived, ate, went to classes, was given beauty treatments, or where I took exercise was identically set up. I would be surrounded by these ultra-feminine impulses for quite some time.

In fact, the hair salon, where I would be made over on several occasions, had a special section for sissies like myself. All the chairs in this section were similar to this, and there were mirrors everywhere. Of course, what would one expect from a salon called Pamela's Palace of Perfection?

"Now, Polly, why don't you retrieve the dinner cart, and you may serve us. By the way, is Abigail seeing to dinner for Lucinda (Ms. Robbins) and Irene (Dr. Hoffman)?" she asked charmingly.

"Yes ma'am. Both she and Ma'amselle Celia are caring for our weekend guests. I'll get Madame and Vivian's dinner presently, miss," said Polly, dipping into a curtsey and leaving.

"Well Vivian, if you'd like to wait for your adoption to be legal, before calling me mummy, you may use the formal British/French term, and refer to me as T'ante Melissa. You and I are really going to have lots of wonderful times and a very lovely life together. Let me tell you of some of the absolutely dreamy and darling plans I have for us, my dear."

Saying this, she launched into a vivid and thorough description of how she expected things to be, with me as her future heiress.

Her discourse lasted throughout the dinner and into the late evening, just prior to my bedtime. I listened intently, never daring to interrupt. I answered her questions when she asked them and only dared asked my own, when she would pause and check for my reaction.

"Darling Vivian, we are going to have a glorious time!" she said excitedly as we began to eat. "We'll have luncheons with my friends where I'll show you off! My social set prefers 'special' young ladies like yourself. We sometimes have friendly, little competitions where we see whose girl is most feminine. You'll enjoy it," she smiled.

She went on to say, "In addition we'll go shopping together for pretty clothes, and go to fashion shows at my club. We'll even have our hair done together at a wonderful beauty shop that welcomes dainty children like my Vivian." She seemed thrilled.

"Of course you'll need lots of training and I promise to never interfere with Ma'amselle Celia in your training regimen or discipline. What do you think so far precious?" She asked with a big smile.

"I just love everything, T'ante Missy. I was wondering however, will I always be wearing such babyish attire? I had thought I was supposed to be appearing to be around 14." I appealed to her sweetly.

"Of course not, you little silly! I requested that you be dressed as a little baby Nancy at bedtime for a short while. Possibly a bit like a 10-year-old for a few days. As soon as you begin to master high heels, we'll step up your age. Before you know it you'll have a sweet sixteen party and a suitor." She glanced at me for my reaction.

She continued by asking, "As far as your suitor or suitors go, do you prefer males, females or both? Don't worry, you'll not be forced and anything can be arranged,' she said very candidly.

My eyes opened quite wide as I said, "Please T'ante Melissa, I prefer ladies."

"I thought that may be the case. Good. Then it's settled. Time for bed now. I'll ring for Polly," she said as she went to the doorbell in hand. Before leaving, I kissed her goodnight, and Polly as well, as I went to bed. Polly gave me a few small sips of the syrupy draught before tucking me in. I literally slept like a baby, thumb in mouth, holding a Barbie doll, my feet and legs tucked in the same fetal position.

Again I awoke refreshed, to Polly opening the curtains, and Ma'amselle Celia choosing my attire for the day. "You'll be eating in your aunt's room again this morning. You will of course put on some lipstick, just to please her," Mme. Celia stated as she propelled me towards the vanity.

She set next to me and applied her own, having me try mine. By the third try, she pronounced my job "adequate" and I went off to breakfast. Things went fine. Before I left to return to my room to be dressed for the day, Aunt Melissa asked me how I liked Polly's uniform of the night before. She seemed pleased when I said I loved it.


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