Lynnette; Following Her Lead
I earn my living as a dance
instructor, not my first choice, but the choice that pays the bills.
I would much rather make my living writing, but so far no publisher
has shown any interest in anything I put a pen to.
The dance
instructor job came as a result of a college friend that got into a
bind. Lynn had started the dance school to help pay her way through
college. It did that and a little bit more, and after graduation she
decided to see if it could provide a living for her full time.
It started off
with a bang, Lynn winning a local dance contest, giving her school a
leg up with regards to the competition. She hired additional
instructors, and soon had customers. Lynn was always a good dancer,
her mom giving her the education in all forms of dance when she was
younger. Her Mother was a co-owner in a national chain of dance
studios. Unfortunately, her mother never lived long enough to see her
daughter excel at what she learned.
My involvement
came about when a couple of her instructors, were hired away by the
competition. One competitor, in particular, had in for Lynn, wanting
to bankrupt her school before she took all the business away from
them. Lynn had a much more pleasant personality and is good with
people, making her popular with her students. Just to be in her
company is uplifting.
We had met in
college, at a mixer. Both of us freshmen, both of us new to the
school and knowing no one, we somehow found each other. We danced
that night till they closed the place, just happy to be with each
other.
I started out
life with the name of Jess, although the few friends I had over the
years quickly morphed that into Jessie. Lynn was no different, the
second time we met that became my new name, and she never did call me
Jess the entire time we spent in college. I was short for a male,
about an inch or two shorter than Lynn, but probably weighed twenty
pounds lighter than she did, since a female never discusses her
weight we will never know for sure if that is true.
Nothing more
serious ever happened between us, although we attended several dances
together each year. My dancing ability coming to me, courtesy of my
mother, although she wasn’t near as qualified as Lynn’s mother. I
could do the basic dances, nothing fancy, but my downfall is that I
enjoy dancing. It is fun and exciting, and getting caught up in the
music and twirling around the floor is what life is all about for me.
By now you have
probably figured out that we are not talking about any of the modern
dances. This is ballroom dancing in all its glory. You actually hold
your partner, interacted with them, and the two of you make a couple
that performed the dance. In my opinion, standing opposite a partner,
gyrating in a non-musical maneuver, can’t ever be called dancing.
Anyway, she
needed an instructor to help fill the gap till she could hire some
more instructors, with my name at the top of the list. We had lost
contact with each other after graduation, but I still lived in town,
so she eventually tracked me down. I was working temporarily at a
retail store, seasonal help, for three weeks. When she called, she
asked if I could help her out. I told her that I am not a qualified
instructor, as she knows, but I would help her any way that I could.
We met the next
day at her studio, and she ran down what my duties would be. I would
be teaching females the basic steps, maybe dancing a few dances with
the better ones when they learned the basics. It was all one on one
training, not group classes. My skills would be adequate for this,
and she hoped to be able to hire a couple more instructors in a week
or two. She had me dance a couple of dances with her, this time with
me following. Up to this time I had always led, a normal male dance
position. Lynn wanted me to have a little experience following so
that I could show my students the basic female steps.
She put some
music on, and we started dancing, the steps came to me naturally, and
we danced around the studio for several hours. We did Fox Trots,
Tangos, some Quicksteps, but mostly Waltzes. She remarked several
times about my ability, fascinated that I could dance so well in the
female role. My first student was the next day after work; I had only
two more days of my seasonal work, and then I would be once again
without a paying job.
After my first
student, Lynn asked if I would consider being a full-time employee
for her since I did so well with that student. “I will think about
it, my dream of working as a writer still holding that prized first
spot.”
At the weekend,
reality had descended on me again, and I told her I would accept.
Nothing had changed, but that was the problem, three more publishers
had returned the manuscripts with rejection letters, one I don’t
think even looked at the offering.
At the studio, I
am scheduled for four to five students a day, each session usually
two hours, with the more advanced limited to one hour sessions. Eight
to ten hours a day, with me being paid by the type of instruction I
gave. I was bringing in one hundred to one hundred fifty dollars a
day with ease, most of the students were pleasant and easy to get
along with. Lynn was ecstatic with my help; she never did hire any
other instructors.
Her primary
competitor soon went belly up, giving us, even more, business. She
ended up doing a group basic dance step class, then me doing the
individual classes from there on. Things progressed from there as she
slowly added a few more students to the school. She did, however, see
that we had saturated the market, teaching most of the people that
wanted to learn to dance in the area. She feared a downturn in the
business level and four months later, it appeared. She was planning
for this in the back of her mind, having a thought or two as to what
she could do to keep herself financially secure. I was not aware of
her plans, or that I would be included in those plans.
She gradually
laid off two of her other instructors, as the business dwindled she
would let them go when there was not enough to keep them busy. She
kept the two female instructors she first started with, however,
wanting them to keep the school going as she moved on to other
pursuits. More and more she spent time with me dancing in the studio,
sometimes late into the evening, always with her leading. I had a
feeling that something had changed, but I loved to dance so I kept
the comments to myself. Then when I had danced my last scheduled
class with any students, she told me her plans.
The plans were
disclosed over dinner at her house, which was attached to the dance
studio. When I saw the bottle of wine, I knew that I would be wined
and dined to get my approval for whatever she had planned. The
standing rib roast, a good indication of the degree that she sought
my approval. The meal is delicious; she admitted that she hadn’t
cooked it, dancing is her forte, not cooking. We sipped wine looking
at the stars as we sat on her patio. It is a beautiful night, stars
seeming to populate every square inch of the nighttime sky. Finally,
I asked her what she wanted to talk about; I could see the difficulty
she is having in getting the conversation started, and I tried to
make her at ease.
“I trust you
Lynn, that whatever you have in mind, I will listen to, and most
likely agree to your request.” The biggest smile came onto her
face, and I knew that I had stepped into it big time. She dragged me
back inside and hit the remote on the TV, and a video started playing
of a couple dancing a Strauss waltz. The dress the female is wearing
is gorgeous, one of the prettiest I had ever seen, but the couple’s
ability is not quite up to the level of a serious dance enthusiast. I
noticed the dress because it was cut very provocatively, not the
usual dance contest dress.
Lynn asked me if
I noticed anything different about the couple. Other than the dress I
didn’t see anything unusual or different. She played it one more
time, and then I noticed the effeminate appearance of the male
partner. “The video was at a dance contest nearby, at a club where
this type of dance contest is gaining popularity. Now the bigger
dance organizations are taking notice and are going to start a
national tour featuring this type of contest. They already have
fifteen stops scheduled, with minimal prizes of one thousand dollars
for the winning couple in each of three different dance competitions.
The Waltz, the Tango, and the Foxtrot are the three primary dances
they are going to feature.”
“The
competitions are called the Turnabout, with the roles of the dancers
reversed. The male dances the female role in costume, and the female
dances the male role in a tux. To jazz it up the dresses the male in
the female role, wears are more provocative, downright sexy. The
competitions are gaining in popularity, playing to packed clubs in
few towns already. Since a certain individual is so good at dancing
the female part, I wondered if this contest might have an interest
for you. I still have all my mother’s competition dresses, neatly
packed away in storage. Most of them can be altered to enhance the
sex appeal, and since they are all considered retro, they would be a
natural for this type of contest.”
“Incidentally,
you and she are almost the same size so they should all fit you with
a minimum of alteration. The dresses are very feminine, perfect for
this type of contest.” I had listened to all she had said but
didn’t know about participating in this crazy idea. I never had
dressed in my mother’s clothes, although one Halloween I did go as
a fairy princess. The second fact is I had never had a serious
relationship with a female, in fact, Lynn would probably qualify as a
one and only date. It is not like I don’t want a relationship, it
just doesn’t come easy for me. Lynn wanted me to think about it;
she knew that it was pushing the limits that I would feel comfortable
with, but the money is too good for the idea to be discarded without
an attempt to see if it is doable.
I asked her some
questions, about how I am to appear, what would be required to handle
the impersonation. The answers are not what I was expecting, the
degree that I would have to live as a female much more than I would
have liked. The discussion ended that night when she told me there is
a contest in the next town, about fifty miles away. She suggested
that we enter and that I get transformed into a female for the dance.
We try it out, both the impersonation and the dance to see if it is
something we can handle. Then decide if it is to become a way of life
for a while.
Nervously I
agreed to the trial, getting a bonus hug and kiss from Lynn. She had
made an appointment at a salon in town that did these type of
transformations regularly, for tomorrow. After I was the correct
gender looks wise, we would select a dress that is appropriate, maybe
two, and then she would have them altered to fit the contest better.
The contest is in three days, so not too much time for me to over
think things. The one thing that I had to start on immediately is
learning to maneuver in heels.
She went to her
closet, returning with a five-inch heel with ankle straps. She
smoothed a knee high up my foot after she had removed my socks. She
eyed the heels, and then my pant legs, I guess figuring that I would
not be able to get the pants off with the heels in place. She had me
stand up, unbuttoned my pants and slid them down my legs. Before I
realized what she was doing, I was naked from the waist down except
for my boy shorts.
The heels are
slipped on, the fit is perfect, and I suspected some advanced
planning since it is obvious that Lynn and I are not the same shoe
size. She fastened the ankle straps, and I heard two distinct clicks.
I looked down, and the shoes are locked onto my feet. I looked up at
her, giving her an evil eye, but she denied any wrongdoing, the fact
is that you need to get used to the heels. That means that you stay
in them until the contest. Don’t think of trying to cut them off;
those shoes cost over five hundred dollars, and I will hurt you
severely if you damage them in any way.
I asked the
obvious, “Do I wear them to bed?”
“Yes, you stay
in those heels until the dance contest.” I looked down at my lack
of pants, pointed to that area. She came up to me, gave me a big hug,
and told me I had two options, one she would lend me a skirt so that
I could go home; the other is you stay here for the next few days. I
smiled at her; she obviously has had this planned for longer than I
had thought.
I presumed that I
would be on my feet for the next few days, I should say heels since
they seem to be a part of my outfit for the foreseeable future. I am
not sure if I shared her gung-ho attitude, about the dance
competitions, partly due to the level of involvement on my part. I
guess it is worth a try, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I only
wish my writing had some chance of being a success, every day I was
more aware of it being wasted time and effort.
Seeing me as a
female in a turnabout dance competition, is far fetched, but I
presume not as out there as myself as a top selling author. If the
disguise is good enough, I might be spared a lot of embarrassment, if
not, no telling what humiliation I might have to endure. It is a
small town, a lot of people know me, especially since I have been
helping Lynn in the dance studio.
She shared her
bed with me, telling me that she has had all her shots, besides we
had lots to do in the next few days, thus no time to fool around. I
was offered an oversize T-shirt to wear for pajamas, and two
pillowcases were slid over my heels to prevent damage to the heels
and bed. According to Lynn, the heels were Jimmy Choo’s, the best
in female foot apparel available. The heels were quite comfortable,
even though my feet are pointed like I am standing on my toes. It
only took me about twenty minutes to get accustomed to walking in
them.
Of course, Lynn
is in awe of my ability to walk in the five-inch heel. I visited the
bathroom, then slid my feet into bed. The pillowcases made it easier
to get comfortable as the heels slid on the sheets. I received a
passionate kiss, and Lynn thanked me for at least giving it a try.
Shortly after getting into bed, she cuddled my back, with her arm
over my side with her hand on my breast. I laid there staring at the
ceiling for a while but soon lost consciousness, with only the alarm
the next morning making me stir. I made my way to the bathroom. A
very necessary task for me in the morning then sat on the toilet to
remove the pillowcases and perform my daily ablutions.
Lynn had made her
way to the kitchen and made coffee and had sliced some fruit and had
some toast ready. I usually do not eat much in the morning but with
no idea what is on the day’s agenda, decided to make an exception
today. I was given a skirt to wear today, along with a cami top. When
she caught my stare as I looked at the clothing that had been handed
me, she told me that “you will have a coat to wear over them, the
salon is only two blocks away, and very few people are out this early
in the morning.”
I was going to
ask just what is going to be done to me but decided that for the
impersonation to be perfect, it would require me to be a female. To
minimize any humiliation with regards to me, I was more than willing
for the transformation to be nearly perfect. That would be much
better than being laughed at. That pretty much handled what is going
to be done to me; they were going to transform me into a female, a
sexy one if Lynn is going to use the provocative costumes. I put on
the clothes and Lynn took my hand, and we are on our way. When she
closed and locked her door, an extra wave of nausea washed over me. I
was out in public dressed as a woman, with a minimum of clothes on,
and I am scared to death.
We walked to the salon, and I was surprised at how little attention I
had received. At the front desk, Lynn told them my name and that I
had an appointment for the works. Since we are entering the turnabout
dance contests, we decided to use each other’s name. I should add
that Lynn decided that we use each other’s name, although I could
see no problem with it. Lynn is sometimes a guy’s name so that I
would be spared some embarrassment. But the real Lynn thought her
full name would be so much better, so now I am officially Lynnette.
At the salon, a
gorgeous blonde came up to the front after being called by the
receptionist. She introduced herself as Mary, a transformation
specialist for Turnabout Gurl. Now, how do I describe the salon, it
dripped femininity from any angle. The colors in the salon were all
pinks and pastels, the drapes were light pink sheers, pulled back
with Burgundy ribbons. All of the beauty equipment is polished
chrome, that and all the mirrors made a bright and shiny appearance.
The cushions on the chairs are upholstered in a pink leather, quite
attractive, and I may add comfortable.
Mary’s uniform
is a Lolita-like dress, very short with lacey petticoats underneath.
The neckline is rounded with almost nothing restraining her breasts
from escaping the confines of her dress. Her heels are stilettos,
five inches tall, with two narrow straps holding them on her feet.
Unlike me, her shoes are not locked on. Of course, stockings are
worn, attached to a garter belt that peeked out every once in a while
from underneath all of the petticoats. Her hair is an up do with
tendrils of curls over each ear. Like I said the place dripped
femininity.
She grabbed my
hand and led me back to a treatment room; Lynn wished me luck,
telling me that she would pick me up at five tonight. I gave her the
deer in the headlight look; that is seven hours from now, and I
silently prayed to whoever to save me from my apparent fate. My
prayers are not answered, and fifteen minutes later I am naked and
lying on the table to be waxed. Mary is a skilled professional,
making quick work of what little body hair I possessed. Somewhere in
the initial meeting the key to my shoe locks was given to Mary, so
they were now sitting to the side waiting for my transformation to be
completed.
No area left
untouched, from my eyebrows to my toenails, I am smooth and feminine.
Next, she rearranged me on the table, placing my feet in some
attachments on the end of the table. She placed straps around my
ankles and moved the stirrups as far apart as possible, stepping into
the space between my legs she sprayed a liquid on my groin, shortly
after that there was no feeling.
She started doing
away with my male organs, twisting and pushing until they were
positioned where she wanted them. It took her about an hour to do the
manipulation and place the prosthetic over my male area, creating a
truly feminine looking vulva in the process.
I wondered why I
had to have a vulva since I would always be wearing a dress for the
competition. Another question for Lynn tonight. I am curious as to
the necessity of having a vagina, but the thought never occurred to
me to ask before my equipment is nestled behind a very female pair of
lips.
Mary placed a
couple of fairly heavy silicone blobs on my chest and marked their
proper location. Then glue was added and allowed to get tacky. Then
she turned the breast form inside out and placed a small recession in
the back of the form over my nipple. She pushed down fairly hard to
assure contact and adhesion. After fifteen seconds, she released the
hold and positioned the rest of the breast form over my chest being
sure to match the markings she had placed on my chest.
She added a
little more glue to the edges of the form and smoothed the tapered
edge with her finger. I had to lift my head to see the finished
product; they were moving like they are made of Jell-O, always in
motion. Then in between my two new mounds I caught a glimpse of my
vulva, now there was no doubt as to my sex, female all the way. I
knew that my few male features on the rest of my body would only
enhance the feminine look.
Before Mary moved
on to other things she closed the door to the treatment room and
asked me to pinch my nipples, I did and let go of them fast, like
they were red hot. I could feel the pinch like the nipple is actually
mine. Next, she asked me to probe my new vulva, being careful not to
scratch my insides with my fingernail. She supplied some lube, then
watched me as I probed with my finger. My index finger was about half
way in when I touched something that sent waves of pleasure through
my body. Mary stated that the appliance would allow intercourse, as
long as the partner is not super-endowed. That was information that I
am not sure I needed to be informed of. I don’t think that I would
ever contemplate having sex with a male, whether I looked like a
female or not.
Next comes my
hair; it is shampooed and conditioned, and then dye added to convert
my hair color to a strawberry blonde. Three new holes in each ear are
added two studs, and a long dangly hoop is inserted into the new
holes. All of this for a trial run for this new type of dance
contest?
Once the dye had
thoroughly processed, it is rinsed out, and a conditioner is used on
me. Then back in the styling chair and she sectioned and combed out
my new blonde hair. Each section is carefully cut, her aim is to
create a curly up do, something perfect for dancing and quite retro.
Once the cut is finished, she started winding my hair on rollers. In
less than thirty minutes, my head had over sixty rollers on it. The
rollers are all sizes with larger ones on the top of my head and
smaller ones near my neckline.
A dryer is rolled
over and the next hour is spent with the warm air cascading over my
head. I nearly dozed off a couple of times, but half way through that
hour Mary came back pushing a cart loaded with nail polish and
manicuring supplies. She placed both my hands into bowls of liquid,
letting them soak while she got ready to finish my hair.
As she started
removing the rollers she told me that she had used their special
setting lotion, a fairly new development of Turnabout Gurl. After
just one use, to renew the curl only required the spraying of water
on the hair. The curl would instantly reform and then using only warm
heat the hair can be dried. Once dried the curls can be brushed out
into the proper style.
I managed to see
the implications of this; I was stuck with a feminine head of curls
until the setting lotion finally quit working. This experiment is
supposed to be for only one dance, to see if the idea might be
feasible. Now destiny seems to have interceded, and there may be many
dances in the future as a female. That is particularly relevant since
I had breasts and a vagina.
The nails are
next, after receiving a manicure, Mary applied extensions to each of
my fingernails. One look at the extensions and I will not be writing
for quite some time. They extended an inch past my fingertips, seems
like dancing as a female might be the only thing I am capable of in
the near future. It certainly won’t be doing anything with my
hands. I received a dark Burgundy polish after a base coat had been
applied. Then that is finished off with two more coats of color than
a high gloss topcoat. My nails sparkled like beacons, flashing color
with every hand movement.
Mary cleaned up
the manicuring supplies then repositioned me in the styling chair.
The chair is leaned back some, and she applied a cleansing mask to my
face. That stayed on for twenty minutes; then she rubbed cream into
my beard area. The fact that she used gloves to apply the cream
should have given me a hint of what the cream could do, but being a
male did leave me at a mental disadvantage.
That last cream
stayed on for thirty minutes while she worked on my eyebrows. I was
surprised that there were any eyebrows left after her attack. When I
am finally allowed to see my image, there is a two hair wide pencil
thin arch above each eyebrow, and that is it. As I am trying to take
in the appearance of my eyebrows she is telling me that I no longer
had to shave, the cream effectively killing off the hair roots. I
wasn’t particularly fond of shaving anyway, but to be told that I
would not have a beard ever is shocking. That and my eyebrows made it
quite clear, my life as a female has begun in earnest.
In a way, I hoped
that Lynn’s idea for the dance competitions is going to work out
since I doubt that I could return to my former life or any part
thereof in the future. I kept glancing in the mirror throughout the
day, and each treatment left me more feminine. The male me is gone, I
think for good. Even if I started dressing like a male, it would be
months before the image matched the gender, if ever.
Next is makeup;
Mary rolled over a cart with every conceivable cosmetic known to man,
that should be woman. She tried different shades to get my colors,
then showed me how to apply them. Several times she had me start over
until she was finally happy with my efforts. The nails added quite a
bit of difficulty to the task of applying makeup. The elegant tips
making any use of my hands almost useless, especially eyeliner and
mascara. I had to learn to use the pads of my fingers to grab
anything, the extensions even made approaching something difficult. I
did manage to somehow get makeup on me, but realized I would have to
practice quite a bit to be able to do it in a reasonable amount of
time.
Then the last
time she showed me how to remove the makeup for bed then had me
reapply the whole concoction again. Of course, Lynn took that moment
to show up, standing out of my sight as I applied the cosmetics to my
face. When I finished, she came over to compliment me on my skills
and give me a hug. No kissing, since it would smudge my lipstick. I
was lost in my thoughts, a tender kiss might be nice though and
sorely needed right now.
Mary said that I
am finished for the day, I looked around for my clothes, but they
were not where I had left them. Lynn handed me a bag; your clothes
are here. I looked in the bag, a little leery of what I would find,
and true to my hunch, the clothes within are all female. I looked
into the mirror; the body is now female, I guess the clothes should
fit the body. I am helped into the feminine items, some of which I
hadn’t seen on any female that I had ever dated.
Panties first,
then a bra, followed by a camisole. The first time a male wears a
bra, it seems to feminize him. There is really no individual item of
a female’s lingerie that so personifies a woman as a brasserie. As
I slipped my arms into the straps, it was like I was surrendering to
the female gender. Then, when Lynn helped me lean forward to get my
breasts in the cups, then fasten the clasp in back, it was the final
step in the gender change.
Lynn couldn’t
be practical and bring me some pants or, at least, a pair of shorts;
no she decided I need a dress. The dress had a fitted bodice, with a
full skirt that swished against my legs as I moved around. My heels
are still with me, a constant reminder of my commitment to this crazy
idea, but I seldom thought of them anymore since I had become used to
them on my feet. We left the salon, with me being told to be back
tomorrow for a lesson in female deportment and in how to manage my
hair.
The walk back to
the studio is uneventful but filled with lots of new feelings. The
jiggling of my breasts in their bra, the feel of the earrings as the
one pair swayed against my neck. All of this and more making me
acutely aware of my new gender.
I am now
Lynnette, a female in all things I do, and a female in all of my
thoughts and actions. My right hand reached for my swaying skirt to
hold down the hem, my other hand to my side, although a little
further out to allow for my wider hips, that courtesy of some hip
padding added to the panties I had been coerced into wearing.
The biggest
difference is in my perception of where I am and of how seemingly all
male attention is focused on me. Every male we passed seemed to take
in my appearance, forming some kind of opinion of me as they passed.
Lynn assured me that they were admiring my looks and whether they had
a chance with me. That thought caused shivers up and down my spine.
The sad truth is that I now will be a focus of that male attention
whether I wished it or not.
When we got to
the studio, Lynn set up some music, and she took my hands and started
dancing. It was different from how we danced with me in male
clothing. I am dancing in female mode, but the dynamics of the
situation have changed. My breasts, the lack of a male organ between
my thighs and the numerous feelings from my now feminine clothing
made the dancing so different. I was in another world, following
Lynn’s lead and the music made me dance like I hadn’t a care in
the world. I was free, allowing my feminine feelings to guide me
around the dance floor.
When the music
stopped, Lynn kissed me on the lips, complimenting me on my dancing.
As she put it, we floated around the dance floor as a couple, a
couple in love moving as one.
Now I am sure you
have a lot of questions as to why there were several things done to
you that you felt were not necessary. You are a sensuous person and
with the changes made to you today, the feminine instincts came to
the forefront, allowing you to immerse yourself in the female gender.
Thus, your dancing has become fantastic. We spent, at least, another
hour practicing, although with our previous practice it is more
getting comfortable in our new roles.
The heels did
become painful after that extra hour, but after being able to sit for
a while, it is livable with. She is ecstatic at my progress, feeling
that we had a good chance to win at least one event this weekend. It
had been a long day, experiencing a lot of things that I have never
dealt with before.
Tonight when she
spooned my back, her hand found a sizable breast to massage and hold.
It did feel good, but I am quite conflicted, not knowing how I should
react to the feelings. Lynn did buy me some more heels, all expensive
brands that fitted me comfortably, mostly four and five inch heels.
Luckily not with locks. The first few steps out of the heels made my
situation very clear. I was walking on my toes, to keep the pain from
my calves down. My tendons had tightened in the last couple of days,
now to be comfortable walking I would require some type of heel.
I noticed that
with all the dancing with me in the female role I started to act more
submissive. When Lynn brought something up, I acquiesced instead of
offering an alternative or telling her no. Nothing bad happened
because of my submissiveness, but it is a noticeable change in my
demeanor.
I woke early,
making us some hot cocoa, and oatmeal. Lynn joined me as soon as she
smelled the chocolate. We stayed up, even though my appointment is,
at least, three hours away.
As I am learning
to handle my hair and become a proper young lady, Lynn is going to go
through her Mother’s dresses and select some that might fit the
type of dancing we were going to do. Although it is extra work, she
suggested that I change dresses for each different type of dance.
Some of the other contestants in other local competitions had not
done so, maybe costing them a chance for finishing higher in the
competition.
The happenings at
the salon are easier to handle today, the deportment lessons
basically just common etiquette. Ballroom dancing involved some of
these already, so it is not a stretch for me to master them fairly
quickly.
Doing my hair,
that is a totally different situation. If my nails were of a sensible
length, I might have been able to get by, but since I had the
ultimate in feminine nails, I learned the steps to get my hair
looking proper but was unable actually to do it myself. Mary assured
me that after a few days, I would be able to style my own hair. Lynn
decided to use the salon’s services instead until I could do the
styles myself.
That night more
dancing to several different songs, most of the time I managed to
lose myself in the number, dancing away like I had been doing it all
my life. Lynn did have me try on her mother’s dresses, six in total
and of those she selected three that would be perfect for the
competition. She pinned some alterations she wanted to have done, a
friend of hers would have the alterations done first thing in the
morning.
Two of the
dresses had plunging necklines, and Lynn decided one of them should
plunge a little more. A lace-up bustier, sans the straps, is the only
undergarment I could wear other than panties. For one dance where she
dips me and then spins me around it is decided that a little adhesive
might be necessary to keep my breasts in their cups.
The day of the
competition starts like a regular day, but soon my nerves and
excitement get the best of me, and I lose what little I had eaten for
breakfast. Lynn makes some herbal tea for me, a blend to calm me down
a little. At four in the afternoon, I start to do my makeup and hair,
not wanting to chance my ability to get it right the first time.
Surprisingly it did come out the first time, better than I had done
previously.
Lynn wanted me to
do it myself, although she could help if I had trouble. The idea is
that it would keep me from getting as nervous and if we are to do
more competitions the practice would be valuable. She helped me with
my garment bags, and we left for the club. When we arrived, we were
shown to a dressing room at the back with two couples already there.
One obvious female told Lynn that two female couples are not allowed,
Lynn smiled, pointed to me and replied she is a male.
The lady seemed
shocked but stayed, the other couple left, apparently we were too
good in our roles to compete against this evening. In total, there
were seven couples for the contest, although two of the couples were
quite comical. I changed dresses to the first costume; then we made
our way to the dance floor. You could tell that they didn’t have
this as planned as it should be, several mistakes made as the contest
proceeded. It wasn’t too long before we were announced and the
dance started. I surrendered myself to Lynn and just followed her
lead. They did have an excellent sound system, and the music swept us
away.
I thought we had
messed up since it was so quiet during the dance, in these clubs
usually someone is saying something or remarking about the dancers as
it is going on, but not tonight, I tried to think if it was this
quiet when the other dancers did their turn, but I honestly couldn’t
remember. The music stopped, and it was still quiet, then as she is
leading me off the floor, the applause is deafening.
The other two
dances were about the same; it turned out we were the audience
favorite, getting more applause than all of the other couples
combined. The last costume of the evening for me is quite risqué,
gaining more than a little attention from the males in the audience.
One of the judges seriously doubted our turnabout roles and asked to
see some ID. He was positive that I was a real female trying to fool
the judges. In a way Lynn was a little put out, he had no trouble
with her being a real male, both of us out to make a quick buck. I
kidded her quite a bit about that on the way back to her apartment.
We did win the
contest that night, getting all of the judge’s votes including the
judge that doubted that I was a male. I thought all the way to the
apartment about our win, and what it meant for me. I knew Lynn would
want to enter the other contests; apparently we could be successful
at it, even knowing that the competition would be better in the
future. Was this what I wanted to do, though, portraying a female all
the time, that part I was indecisive about?
We opened a
bottle of wine and sipped it in her living room, both of us trying to
get our thoughts together to talk about the future. I eventually
started the conversation, asking her if she thought we could make
enough money from the contests to support us. She thought we could,
but where she thought we would gain the most money is from
sponsorships from some of the companies doing business with the dance
community. Several of the companies doing dresses for the females
would be likely candidates to use us in their advertising and furnish
me with additional dresses to wear in the competition as a side
benefit.
Your looks are so
female, that you would be a natural for this type of ad. Once these
contests pick up some more support, you will be featured on all of
the dance magazine's front covers. I corrected her; we will be
featured on the front covers. I ain’t doing it if you don’t, that
is final. She giggled alright we will be the featured dancers on a
lot of publications.
I told her that I
am not that keen on the 24/7 impersonation, she nodded, but you know
it can’t be turned off and on, once you start you have to keep it
up, or you will be doing nothing but changing genders in you off
time. I did realize that, but could I do it for the future until we
found something else to do with our lives. I told her I would think
about it real hard, maybe get away for a day or two to think things
through. Then I realized what I looked like; I would have to portray
a female for my get away. Not my original intention, but maybe a good
way to see if I can handle living the female life.
Lynn had some
classes she couldn’t get away from, so I was on my own for the next
few days. She did tell me that she is reserving a spot at the next
Turnabout dance competition if I changed my mind she could always
cancel. I decided to visit my older sister who lived about five hours
away. I called her and asked if I could hang out with her for a
couple of days, her husband had just left on a business trip for
three weeks, so she said come on. I packed my things and headed her
way. I had to stop for fuel once and at a rest stop to use the
bathroom, but nothing happened and I did use the proper facilities
for my new gender.
I didn’t tell
my sister I was in girl mode, not sure why I didn’t, it was in my
original plan to do so. I drove up to her house and her two kids came
running to the car. Both are girls, they paused to take a closer look
at me then dragged me into the house, no comments, not even a
slowdown in their conversation. Betsy, my sister, however did stare.
Her mouth open, then OMG emerged. I really think it took her those
few moments to figure out who I was. She tried to squeeze the paste
out of me, I am sure if I had been a tube of toothpaste I would now
be empty. The girls helped me bring in my things, taking them to the
guest room. Meanwhile, Betsy was conducting an interrogation of me.
Over the next
hour I divulged all, telling her about Lynn, her ideas and what has
happened over the last few months. Betsy was intrigued about the
dance contests, since she had danced some in college, she knew
something about it. She grabbed her local paper and scanned the local
entertainment section. There at the bottom of the page is a club that
advertised it was holding a turnabout competition this weekend, of
course, Betsy wanted to go. After she got the girls to bed she moved
some furniture in the living room so that we could practice some. She
put on some music and dragged me to the center to dance with her.
She was pretty
good, as soon as she remembered she had to lead, not as good as Lynn,
but quite respectable. We danced for over an hour, only to find her
girls watching us from the stairs. She again put them to bed then
joined me in the kitchen. I had made us some herbal tea, I for one
needed the soothing tea in my body.
We talked, I told
her that was not my intention to come up here to dance more, but she
gave me that puppy dog look that she is so good at, and of course I
gave in. She has always had the ability to coerce me into doing
whatever she wanted. The additional years have not changed anything,
maybe her skill has been honed to perfection, but she will never
admit to anything.
We danced some
more during the day as she found a baby sitter, made the girl’s
dinner and went through her closet looking for me a suitable dress to
use for the competition. She found one, a few scraps of material that
hardly covered anything, I was not happy about the choice, but she
had used the evil eye on me all day, so I could hardly refuse her
wish. She wore an old suit of her husband’s, with her feet in a
pair of penny loafers. She slicked her hair down, no makeup, and used
an ace bandage to keep her sizable breasts from ruining the effect.
Of course, I had
to do the whole process starting with a bath and ending walking down
the stairs in five inch heels. She was pissed to the wind that I
could handle the heels better than she ever did, mumbling under her
breath quite often about the fact. She drove to the club, we entered
and she paid the fifty dollar entrance fee. She steered me to an
empty table with her hand in the middle of my back guiding me. Each
couple would be called up, having to dance the song that they had
been selected for.
We were about
half way in the group of participants, a typical ball room waltz
played as we danced around. The judges seemed impressed, their eyes
never leaving our bodies. When they announced the five semifinalists
we were in that group. They started playing different songs and the
couples danced to the songs. After each song a couple would be
eliminated, till they were only two couples left. It took three more
songs before the winner is announced, the crowd quite happy at our
choice to be the winning couple. We met with the club owners,
received our three hundred dollar prize, and then left after taking
the time for a couple of drinks.
So when I
returned home Lynn was waiting for me, shaking her head at me as I
walked up to her. “So I let you go off to relax and unwind and you
end up dancing again. What am I going to do with you?” I was
already red in the face, as I tried to figure out how she knew what I
had done. It turns out Sis had called her, bragging to her about how
good a dancer I was. I was kidded some more, her only stopping when I
had told her everything about the weekend.
The next
competition was two weeks away, so I practiced my hair and makeup
skills as Lynn helped at the dance studio. Surprisingly she had some
interest in the turnabout dances, several couples interested in
learning the reversed steps, so that they could maybe enter a contest
or two. They were not out to win the competition, just wanting to
have some fun doing something they would never do normally. Lynn set
up a makeshift class, with her teaching the female partner to lead
and I was drafted to teach the male partner how to follow. Both
couples that had signed up for the class were a lot of fun, having a
ball as they learned the steps.
One of the males
was smaller, and would make a presentable female for the contest. The
other male was taller, he looked alright dressed as a female, but his
forte was his dancing. Even doing the following he was light on his
feet, having fun during the entire class. We wished them luck, they
were going to attend the same competition as us, but the open part of
the competition. Both couples placed, the female part of the couples
quite happy at the results and their husbands participation. The
smaller male had confided in me that the sex before the contest was
the best of their married life.
Our part was
later in the evening, this contest set up and run better, we were
allowed to pick our music and we were the second couple to take to
the stage. All in all there were eight couples for the Waltz portion
of the contest, we made the finals, most of the other couples were
competent but needed to dance some more together so the dances were
more relaxed not stiff and stuffy. They ran the qualifying round for
each dance picking finalists then after all three had been staged,
the final dance to pick the winner in each type of dance.
We easily took
the top spot in each dance, again a Judge had doubted my gender, this
time Lynn had my driver’s license and accompanying pictures for
proof of my gender. I know it was getting to Lynn, I was questioned
but she was not, obvious to everybody she was a female posing as a
male.
This time we left
with three thousand dollars in prize money, plus a reporter was there
from one of the dance magazines wanting to do an article on us, and
feature me on their front cover for next month’s issue. Lynn was
all for it, I had some reservations, but I did agree to the interview
eventually. An hour later the reporter had the interview done with
accompanying pictures of me in all three costumes used during this
contest.
Lots more
competitions in the following weeks, with us taking the top spots in
most of them. We did have some serious competition in a couple of the
contests, word getting around about the prize money offered, making
more serious dancers enter the contests.
We danced in the
competitions for five years, before the novelty of the contests
waned, eventually ending the contests. We had put most of our prize
money away for just such an occurrence, so life continued on, both of
us now involved in her dance studio. All of that time dressed and
living as a female had taken its toll on me, so I continued in that
role, a more natural way of life for me. We still go out dancing with
me always following her lead, a role I am used to and so enjoy.
© 2016 thru
2024 by Francesca