Clara: To Be A Flapper

Clara: To Be A Flapper

My history class was becoming quite a problem. The teacher was middle age and female; she was strict in her teachings, making us learn every facet of history or we would not pass. She loved to assign research papers on the time of history we were studying, she handled that by engaging us in debate during class about some part of what we were studying. Then, as a subject came up, she would pick a part of that, then assign it to a member of the class at random. Whenever she assigned a subject to one of us, there would be groans, loud ones. She would giggle and then sometimes add to the subject she just handed out. Believe me, no one slept or daydreamed in her class, we had to be alert to keep from being singled out more than usual.

We were talking about the early nineteen hundreds and female beauty. The original conversation was about flappers but as most of the discussions in our classroom, it quickly migrated to beauty, female actresses and hair styles. When I saw her glance my way I should have panicked, but she seemed to move on shortly thereafter. She had handed out quite a few subjects that would require papers of at least five thousand words. She did allow adequate time for us to do research for our papers, usually six to eight weeks.

When I first encountered Ms. Johnson as a teacher, I rebelled when she handed me an assignment, I told her she couldn’t make me do work that everyone else was not assigned. That was not the response she was expecting, I quickly learned as she added to my assignment. Then when I questioned where I could even get information on what she had assigned, she added another section to my report. Now three similar subjects and fifteen thousand words were due, the resulting paper to be half of my semester grade. I caught myself before I groaned out loud, fearing of what that might cause her to add to my already overloaded homework.

I did get the research paper finished and got a B on it, much to my surprise. She made numerous notes on the research paper, questioning parts of it and mentioning that more information was out there for this, but was not in my paper. I took the hint, my next assignment was only the minimum length and I researched it thoroughly earning me an A+.

Now though we were in the next semester, starting all over again. I had hoped for the other history teacher, like most of my fellow classmates. But when classes were assigned I was back with Ms. Johnson.

Today though, I was trying to keep a low profile, beauty, female fashions and flappers was not really where my interests were. I did catch her looking my way several more times during class, but my name was never called. With about five minutes of class remaining, I sighed a little, knowing that I had made it without being singled out. I didn’t hear her call my name, too busy patting myself on the back for escaping untouched. She repeated it several times, finally, I heard her and answered.

“Nice of you to join us today, see me after class for your assignment.” Apparently there had been several of us singled out, a line at her desk awaiting me. From the ones ahead of me and what they were receiving in assignments, this was not going to be good. The second one in line got four subjects added to his paper, now owing twenty thousand words to the history teacher. Each one in the line left dejected and very depressed, I moved up and discovered that I was the last one.

Well Clarence what have you to say for yourself today? My brilliant reply, Huh? She giggled at me, “You are a challenge, very smart but not really motivated. So let’s see what I might do to change that a little. First, your subjects for your research paper are flappers, Clara Bow, flapper fashions, and makeup of the twenties. You are to convince me of how they tie together and relate to the history of the period.

Now for motivation, twenty thousand words, listing ninety-five percent of available research, and tying in its importance to the history of the period and pictures as you deem necessary for the paper. You have three weeks from today to prepare it and have it on my desk. I will make an exception in your case, basing your semester grade on the results of your paper. I know your abilities and I will not hesitate to flunk you if you don’t put in the effort necessary to do this right.”

I stood there utterly in shock. I opened my mouth several times and nothing came out. I did sit in the chair opposite her and managed to ask her to reconsider. She smiled, “Okay I will offer you one option to the previous assignment. In three weeks, you walk in here to my office and present yourself in appropriate clothes, makeup and hair of Clara Bow, answer my questions of the period and their tie-in to your looks and I will give you a passing grade. Get all of your questions right, and present yourself as a proper flapper and I will award you an A+. Your choice, take it or leave it. Now, you have quite a bit to work to do, I might suggest that you get at it.”

The bell was the only thing that brought me back to my senses, well partially back. I walked right by three of my classmates, all three asking me questions on what I had been assigned. I didn’t hear a word they said, I doubt I even knew where I was going. When the bell rang for the start of the next class, I found myself in the cafeteria, not the Algebra class I should be attending. I went to the Principals office, telling them I didn’t feel good, which was true.

They gave me a note and sent me to the nurse’s office. I eventually made it there, the nurse quickly checking me out. Again, she was talking to me, asking me questions and I didn’t hear a word she said. I found myself laying on a bed in the office, when my mind finally came around some. I spoke some, because I was still kind of lost and did not realize how I even got to be in her office. I lost consciousness again for a while, then set up quickly when I realized I was not in class. Ms. Fowler sat next to me and we talked some, working in some of the questions she had into the conversation without me realizing it.

I think she has seen similar behavior in the past, since she mentioned that I had just came from History class. There was quite a smile there, she did allow me to stay for another class before she wrote my excuse and sent me back to class. I spent that time trying to figure out what happened today and how in the hell I was going to handle it. Three weeks and twenty thousand words, researched properly, that would be a monumental task for a computer, much less a student. I knew I wouldn’t question her, the last time that was tried, I got even more work assigned. Nope, I will have to do the research, then write the paper.

As I walked to class, a tear escaped my eye, my hand brushing over my eye trying to remove it from sight before anyone else saw it. I did make it through the next class, lunch to follow, as I made my way to the cafeteria. I grabbed a sandwich and went outside to the tables looking for a quiet corner to sit and think. I walked to the far corner of the courtyard, finding a table under some trees, allowing for some shade from the hot sun. As I looked around, I was one of only three out there, everybody else inside with the air conditioning. It wasn’t really that hot, the cool breeze making it somewhat bearable. I needed the quietness more than the cool temperatures today.

I let my mind run wild, trying to figure out why I got this horrible assignment, and how in the hell I was going to get a passing grade on it. The first bell rang signaling the end of lunch and I had only taken three bites out of my sandwich. I threw it in the garbage, by the time I had a chance to eat it, it would be spoiled most likely. This day was not going well, probably will rank as one of my worst in twelve years of attending school. Yes, I was now a senior, if I can somehow hold it together enough to graduate in two more months, I will be out of school for good.

My parents wanted me to go to college, but so far, the urge to spend four more years in school was not there. A stint in the service would be preferable to four more years in school. I did manage to make it through the last three classes of the day. Luckily, I was not called on or subjected to any pop quizzes.

I gathered up my books and headed towards home, the two mile walk might be just what I needed to make the day bearable. As I was covering the last block of my walk, I ran into Beth, my next door neighbor’s youngest daughter, a fellow classmate and sufferer of the same history class as I. She was getting out of her friend’s car, where I had to walk, she usually rode with one of her friends. After waving goodbye to her friends, she walked over to me and asked if I wanted a coke. I hesitated but she grabbed my hand leading me into her house.

Her Mom hugged her and then gave me a hug too. She had noticed my frown when I entered the kitchen, figuring I needed the hug as bad as her daughter Beth. Beth grabbed the cokes, then dragged me to her room. I spent a lot of time with Beth, we were friends and had been for quite some time. Each of us has supported the other through some tough spots, so the friendship was deep and pure.

After twenty minutes and numerous questions, she finally got me to tell her my assignment. When I finished she took my hand and squeezed it. Her next statement hit the problem right on the head. “What did you do to Ms. Johnson to piss her off? You will be lucky to get it done, much less good enough to get a passing grade!”

I didn’t say anything, Beth grabbed my other hand and made me face her. “Okay, what are you not telling me about this assignment? I want the truth, if I am going to help you, I need to know what is going on.”

I swallowed hard, finally telling her about the other option in lieu of the paper. She giggled several times as she looked at me closely, apparently seeing if this other option might be a possibility. She dropped my hands and went to her computer and brought up the internet. Some five minutes later, she had what she was looking for on the screen. She placed her hands on either side of my face and stared into my eyes, you are taking the second option, you are a dead ringer for Clara Bow.

“Now starting tonight, I want you researching everything you can about the period and about the lady. Print out what you find, so that I can quiz you about it. I mean everything. The quizzing starts tomorrow, your lunch period now belongs to me, you will be with me every lunch period and after school until time for your appearance. I will take care of your clothing, makeup and hair, that is gathering it all up, you are going to learn to do all the transformation yourself. Your hair is long enough, do not get it cut or I will personally see to a humiliating experience right in front of the whole school. Am I understood?” I nodded my head, speech was impossible.

Ten minutes later I was in my house, accessing the internet myself. I found way too many references to Clara Bow and the flapper era. Maybe Ms. Johnson will not have the time to find them all herself, sparing me some aggravation. Of course, I had no idea which ones she would find and quiz me about. I printed fifteen references, read them thoroughly trying to remember the material for my quiz tomorrow.

I kept coming back to Clara’s picture that was in most of the references. Some of the pictures of her were cute, a curly hairstyle framing her face, the mostly short dresses showing off her legs and the makeup quite pronounced and very feminine. I tried to picture my face in place of hers, but just couldn’t see the resemblance. Maybe Beth was just kidding me about the resemblance.

The next day at school, Beth was waiting for me, I didn’t even get to eat anything, Beth said I needed to lose a few pounds anyway. I did manage to get through the history class without further stress or assignments. The whole class was subdued some, her assignments taking their toll on everybody. Beth was one of the few lucky ones only five thousand words and two extra weeks to complete it.

As soon as we sat down outside, the first questions started in. A few minutes into the session, I knew I would have to study harder, I was missing way too many to make it through her test in three weeks. Beth didn’t say much but I could tell she was thinking of another way to make the information stick with me better. That afternoon, on the way home from school, she walked with me; I knew how much she was trying to help me, even turning down her ride so she could spend more time with me.

I was dragged into her house, handed a diet beverage and pushed into a seat at the kitchen table. Her words were short and highly punctuated. Total immersion! I was trying to figure out what that meant as Beth was talking to her Mom. Then, her Mom made a call to someone, and twenty-five minutes later my Mom entered the kitchen. Now I was scared, Mom seldom, if ever, came home early from her work, now, two hours before she normally came home, she was standing in front of me. Meanwhile, Beth’s Mom was on the phone again. This couldn’t be good.

I tried to zone out like I did in class when things were piling up and I could see no way out of them. Beth was the first to break through my façade, getting me back to the now and present time. “Starting Monday you attend school as Clara, you will live and breathe Clara until the three weeks are up. That means dressing like her, makeup like she uses and acting as much like her as possible. It is maybe a touch crazy, but if Ms. Johnson flunks you, you are looking at summer school to be able to graduate. I will watch out for you, forget about the ones making fun of you, this is way more important.”

“This is Friday, starting tonight you are Clara, wardrobe and makeup tomorrow, and all weekend you are going to practice dancing and acting like her. We have found a couple of movies featuring her so that is on the agenda tonight. Tomorrow we hit the shops to get your wardrobe and makeup and you practice the rest of the weekend doing it yourself. Now are you going to participate or do I need to spread a few rumors Monday to convince you that I am serious and will not be ignored in this.”

I nodded, but apparently that was not enough. I had to tell her that I was appreciative of the plan and would embrace it wholeheartedly. I then dropped my head and shed a lot of tears, talk about being lost as what to do this was definitely it. I know she was trying to help, maybe this will work, but dressing and acting like a twenties actress is far from mainstream. Of course, of the questions Beth had asked me earlier I had only got three right, maybe this way the material will stick with me.

The final blow came a few minutes later when Beth’s Mom got off the phone telling all that I was cleared to attend school as a female until needed. Gawd, the tears did continue, nothing so far making the situation any better, at least, in my mind.

Mom was her usual self, listening carefully to everything and nodding approval of the plan. I thought sure she would come to my rescue, but instead she thought it was an excellent way to get me to learn about this period in history. She even ended up calling the salon she uses and got me an appointment for early Saturday morning. Beth was asked to go with me for moral support, and to make sure I was sufficiently changed to meet the requirements of the assignment.

I was sure after they tried I would be deemed still too masculine and everything would be dropped, leaving me to concentrate on doing the paper somehow. Back in my own house, I was ensconced in a very frilly nightie and put to bed, Mom kissing my forehead as she pulled up my covers. That in itself was a shock to the system, first time since I was two or three that I got put to bed and kissed.

The ensuing few days were a mad rush as they shopped all the vintage thrift stores looking for appropriate clothes for me. The salon appointment changed my hair style to one that fit the roaring twenties. If that wasn’t bad enough the hairstyle was helped along with a curly permanent. Two hours of me sitting in the salon chair as each section of my hair was wrapped around small curlers after securing it between a paper produced the tight curls of Clara. The curler was tightened so much I felt any more tension would have my hair falling out of my head. Then came the smelly permanent solution and a short stint under the hair dryer, followed by it being rinsed out and a neutralizer applied to stop the curling process. That again rinsed out, then the curlers were removed. My head was covered in small curls the eight inches of original length now only five inches or less.

Another set of curlers were then put into my hair, larger than the others, but no other solution or chemical added. Another stint under the dryer and then they were removed. The sight of my curly hairdo was comical, but after she started brushing it out it turned into something so feminine. I looked like Clara now or countless other flappers I had seen pictures of in the research material I was gathering. Even at the salon I had articles in front of me trying to absorb all the info. It was somewhat easier with the new look, the hairstyle only reinforcing the look of a flapper. I started to see the connection to what the history was and my looks.

The main difference was that I was that female I was learning about, not just a subject, but the exact image of her anytime I looked in the mirror. It hit home, made it all real somehow. When I read a part of her history I could almost feel it, dancing at one of the clubs she frequented, I could picture me doing it, reveling in the applause I would get after performing for a show. I could read about a movie she was in, could almost feel the kisses, and the interaction with some of her male co-stars.

Now when I was quizzed I got most of the answers right the first time, not having to review the answer for later. Quite a change from a few days ago.

The big change was going to school as Clara. The first day I got a lot of funny looks, but as the days wore on, it got less and less. Ms. Johnson was the quietest of my group, she recognized me right away, calling me Clara from the first day. She was polite, still calling on me in class, but not exclusively. Every time I caught her looking at me in class, there was this small smile on her face, reminding me of a cat who had just finished something tasty.

I ended up going back to the salon several times, each time a little more was done to make me look more like Clara. At home I was taught that style of dancing, a friend of Mothers who had a dance studio doing the training. It came easy, once I let down my guard some, five lessons later I was doing several twenties dances with ease.

Needless to say Clara remained as a student for that semester and the one following. I did graduate, even received the diploma made out to Clara, my legal first name now. Beth never gave up on me, once I had Clara down pat she moved on to me learning the movements and nuances of a female. After we graduated a quick trip over the state line and we are now married. Junior is still there under the silicone vagina, you can never tell when he might be needed, if so he is there ready and willing.

For a career I decided on American History specializing on the early 20’s and especially Clara Bow. I teach at the same high school I attended a few years ago, Ms. Johnson now the principal here. Oh to be a flapper was my motto back then and still applies today. Beth in particular loves her flapper and I enjoy being one for her. So far no male students like me that resemble Clara, but surely there will be one along one of these days.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

Kelly: Now A Ms.

Kelly: Now A Ms.

Dawn and I had been dating for almost two years now after meeting in our senior year of college. We shared a lot of interests, even having some of the same hobbies. Both of us loved the outdoors, camping and hiking, our favorites. A perfect weekend for us is a ten to fifteen mile hike, camping under the stars, and then hiking back to our car the following morning.

Since we live in Prescott, Arizona, there are hundreds of destinations close by to have that perfect weekend experience at. Just this last weekend, we drove up to Oak Creek Canyon, then hiked in and around Steam Boat Rock for several hours till dusk approached. We camped in the canyon and were coaxed into slumber by the nearby stream babbling along the rocky stream bed. It relaxed us, nature as its best, soothing and refreshing our outlook on life.

Dawn is a saleswoman for a beauty supply company, traveling the southwest to sell her goods and services. She helps design beauty salons, then sells the equipment and product necessary to operate them. She has been doing this for a year now, starting in their company as a phone salesperson, and then, when they decided to offer a salesman to call on the salons, she raised her hand.

They gave her a thirty-day trial, and by the second week, the job was offered to her permanently. Her personality being her best trait, she can make anyone relaxed in her presence just by talking with them. Her knowledge of what a female wants in beauty services is phenomenal. Her designs of several salons have made it apparent that she knows the salon customer, what they are looking for, and what services they will patronize.

Her degree in business management, helping as she advises the new salon owner on what services to offer and what prices the trade will tolerate. Her salon designs tend to be more upscale, pushing the envelope for opulence and exclusivity. One particular customer liked what she was offered but had doubts about its profitability. Her friend, a previous customer of Dawn’s, convinced her to try it. I am sure there were some doubtful moments as Dawn’s designs were built into the new salon but the first day of operation they booked appointments for the next five weeks solid. That eliminated any doubt, causing Dawn to acquire three more customers for salon designs.

My meager existence is much more mundane. I had majored in accounting and financial management in college but had to settle for opening my own business; since they were few, if any, jobs available when I graduated, at least in my field of study. It didn’t take long for me to develop a small following of customers that were happy with the services I provided and the rates I charged. Now after two years of operation, I have a hundred customers and a secretary to help with the business.

I earn a reasonable living, but will not become wealthy with my business. As a comparison, Dawn’s bonus checks are usually twice what my monthly income turns out to be. That bothered me for a while until I realized how talented and driven she is. I show up for work usually around nine AM., but Dawn is at her first customer when they open, somewhere around eight AM. That necessitates her getting up at six AM. so that she can get dressed and drive to their salon.

I like my work; it is a fun job, but Dawn is a fanatic about her job, eagerly awaiting each day to push the envelope just a little bit more. Where I drag my feet a little, she is airborne from the moment she is awake until she sits down for dinner. We both are fairly attractive, with Dawn two inches taller than me at five foot ten inches tall. Since we exercise so much we are both trim, Dawn weighing in at 130 lbs. versus my 140 lbs. Despite our height both of us have rather small frames with narrow shoulders and less than average bums, although her bums are quite a bit more photogenic.

Dawn’s exceptional body part is her breasts, a full D cup they make her a standout in any crowd. She is proud of them but does not wear clothes to accentuate them. My noteworthiness is my face and hair. Ever since rebelling in high school, I have worn my hair long, usually keeping my dark ash blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. My face though is another matter, a definite curse for a member of the male sex.

As the saying goes, the genetic female gets the boyish looks and the coarse straight hair, but the male gets the long curly hair, the gorgeous lashes, and the cute button nose. Guilty on all three counts, plus a couple of more, but who is counting. I have to watch how I dress, anything androgynous makes me look like a female and the miss and mams start. The fact that I was named Kelly after my mom hasn’t helped matters in the gender area.

I know the name Kelly can be used for either sex, but long hair, a cute button nose and the name Kelly seems to translate as a female more often than not. Since I am attached to my hair, with Dawn favoring the longer locks, I have been forced to put up with matters as they are. I still grimace when I am called miss, but usually do not correct them, since it usually is more effort to explain than just to let it go.

That night when Dawn made it home, she unpacked the bags of food she had obtained, the smell of tacos and burritos made itself known to that cute little button nose that was centered on my face. “What is the occasion that deserves this treat,” I asked? We normally eat at home, a habit that we started to save money so we could buy a house. We lived together in a rented house that we shared, deciding to wait until we could buy a house before we married.

With no close relatives, we didn’t have to worry about everybody’s opinion of us living together, a real problem usually where parents are involved. We were both only child’s, spoiled rotten by our parents but loved by them unequivocally. Unfortunately, both fathers were taken from us by a drunk driver, way before they should have died. Dawn’s father was involved in an automobile accident last New Year’s Eve and mine after a visit to my college two months before my graduation.

Of course, you have figured out by now, that neither one of us drink any alcoholic beverages of any kind. We do, however, love Root Beer, a fact that can be blamed back to a hamburger joint at college that served the best draft Root Beer around. After moving here, we had to spend an unearthly amount of time and money to find a Root Beer that was comparable. We ended up getting it from an internet company in California and shipping it in. Now once a month, we receive a package from UPS with two five gallon jugs of Root Beer.

Our nectar of the Gods is also perfect with Mexican Food; I know that is weird, but we do not necessarily conform to all the social do’s and dont’s. The tacos were great; the burritos were fabulous with a sprinkling of hot sauce to liven up the taste buds. The guacamole dip was fresh made, with a taste of lime, fresh onions, and peppers. But the cool Root Beer sliding down our throat afterward, made it heaven. This particular brand of Root Beer has the foam top after filling a glass with it, the telltale sign of a good quality drink.

The celebration is because Dawn had made a new contact today. She explained. “An owner of a chain of beauty salons wants me to work for her designing and opening up new salons.” I could tell that Dawn is excited about this as her speech and emotions were all over the place. “Francine owns Turnabout Gurl Salons, a national chain of beauty salons, catering to a specific customer. They have both male and female customers, but the male customer was the one that the salon catered to originally.”

Francine wanted Dawn to start her own company doing what Dawn’s employer was doing, but only for her salons. She would be responsible for the new salons, also, going back and renovating the older salons as the time allowed. I was thrilled for Dawn, but I wondered where the money to start the business is going to come from and told her that. Then, Dawn pulled a check from her purse, turning it around so that I could look at the face of the check.

It was made out to Dawn for 250,000.00 dollars. She also pulled out a business agreement between her and Francine stating the conditions of the new partnership. Dawn would have a fifty-one percent interest in the company until all the original investment is paid back, and then she would be the sole owner. The agreement is very straightforward, no legal mumbo jumbo, just straight talk about all things that mattered.

As I was glancing over the agreement, I noticed a business name that I was quite familiar with on one of the contract lines. I pointed to the name and asked what was going on. Dawn smiled. “Both she and Francine wanted some expert financial and accounting help with the business. Since you are an expert, your services will be required. You will bill for time spent on the business, less a twenty percent discount for bigger businesses.” That was my standard charge for my larger customers anyway, so that was no problem.

I was shocked; this was a quite lucrative opportunity for both of us, way too good of a deal to pass up. I managed to get Dawn to tell me how she and Francine had met, and what prompted the discussion of the partnership.

“I had called on her at one of her other locations when I heard of them opening another salon in the immediate area. I got lucky to connect with Francine as she was there to finalize some of the plans for the new salon. I made my pitch and Francine was all ears. We ended up going to lunch to discuss matters further, and three hours later the deal was put to paper.”

Dawn was reluctant to leave her employer but knew that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. She had no doubts about her ability to start and run the new company, but with a little regret about competing with her present employer. When Dawn gave them notice later that day, they were shocked, but knew at some time she would leave, an employee with that much talent would be sought after by any and all of their competitors.

As they were working out when would be her last day, her employer asked in passing if she knew anybody that would be interested in buying the business. “I might know someone, but a lot of it would depend on the asking price and the present inventory.” They decided on a meeting later that day around five. That way the owner could decide on a price and ascertain an inventory figure.

Dawn made a call to Francine, with the permission granted to buy the business if the price and inventory were adequate. Before Dawn came home, her old boss approached her with the price and inventory figure. Dawn studied the figures, then counter offered at 25% less than that figure. The owner agreed, and a declaration of intent was signed until the lawyers could put it all down on paper.

The owner confided to Dawn that he didn’t want to compete with her in business since his downfall was a most likely outcome. So my future bride, now owns a business in partnership with an owner of a chain of beauty salons. I was also included in the package since I now had a new account and a lot more business to handle.

As we got ready for bed that night, I hinted that we maybe could look for a house and schedule a wedding date. I received a very passionate kiss, and all kinds of erotic occurrences were happening until the wee hours of the morning. Maybe things were getting better; a wedding was now in the scope of things, a wish that had been mine since the first time I had met Dawn.

The next day started two weeks of planned pandemonium. Meeting with lawyers to sign the finalized agreements, changing ownership on a multitude of permits and licenses, it was a whirlwind of activity. Dawn spent a lot of time with Francine discussing ideas and plans for the new salon. Apparently Dawn’s new partner loved her ideas and work was started on the new salon. Four weeks to the day, a Grand Opening of the salon occurred, and the crowd and attention from the media is so fierce that you couldn’t get near the salon.

To say it was a success was quite an understatement, the salon did more business in their first week than all of the other salons in their first week of business. Everybody is happy; even I am getting more involved with the new company. From an accounting standpoint, Dawn’s new company is selling more equipment and supplies with a lot less overhead.

I was doing the books for Francine’s new salon, and on paper, they were more profitable with the new prices they were now paying for their supplies. In the newest salon, they had offered more upscale services at a heftier price, the result is the services were booked solid. The customer apparently desiring the new services that they offered, no one else in the area was willing to offer these services, so Turnabout Gurl made out like bandits.

Dawn and I did talk about our upcoming marriage, and we settled on a date right before Christmas. Since this was early April, we had quite a bit of time to make plans and find a house. It was decided that I would take the time to look for a house, or property to build, if all else fails. Then the two of us would make the final decision. It didn’t take me long to find that perfect house, and Dawn and I agreed on the purchase price after walking through the home one weekend.

It was located just south of Flagstaff along one of the side canyons near Sedona. It had a beautiful view overlooking Coconino National Forest with a lot of red rock pinnacles scattered in the background. The house was two story with living room, kitchen, bathroom, and den downstairs while upstairs, bedrooms and two more baths were housed. The outside was all finished in cedar, with a copper colored metal roof.

Inside, the whole house was done in knotty pine including the floors. Floor to ceiling windows allowed the outside inside and brightened the interior making it inviting and comfortable. In more ways than one, it was our dream house. We set aside one day each week to furnish and move into the new house. There was no rush since we had plenty of time, doing it slowly and methodically a lot more fun anyway.

We kept the rented house since we pretty much wanted to save the new house for after we married. So we bought pieces of furniture and moved a little of our belongings each week to the new house. Quite often we would take sandwiches and fresh fruit for our work day, then sit in chairs on the wrap around porch taking in the panoramic views of the red rock country as we nibbled.

Every couple of weeks, I would add one of the salons to my workload, and Dawn was on her third remodel. Every salon that she redid increased their profits, and also their business. Dawn and I did find time to talk about the wedding, what we wanted, and who we intended to invite. It was not going to be a large affair, but big enough to rule out a small venue.

One evening as we were snuggled on the couch in the rented house, listening to some music, I noticed Dawn scribbling on a notepad. I watched for a while to see what she was doing, her mind lost in some other dimension. She was writing her name with my surname. I guess that is what most women do, sometime before they marry since they take on the last name of their spouse.

I was intrigued as I watched the names she wrote. Her last name was Killian, and my last name was La Mont. I was leaned up against her shoulder and was watching as she tried all the different combinations. All were prefaced with the salutation of Ms.; the names included Ms. Dawn La Mont, Ms. D La Mont, Ms. D. Killian, Ms. Dawn Killian and to my surprise, Ms. Kelly Killian. That name made me pause for a few moments.

I guess it is technically possible for a male to assume his wife’s surname, but I doubt it is seldom done these days. I was going to ask about it but decided it was just her playing around, no need to make a big deal out of it.

Both of our workloads picked up and Dawn soon was hiring some help for her company. Once I had the salons set up it was just data input, so I got by with my part time secretary for two days a week. Things were looking good, Dawn’s profits were steadily increasing, and she had already managed to pay Francine some of the business startup money back. Quite a feat for only four month’s of elapsed time.

Francine took that money and opened three more salons, all unqualified successes. Since Dawn is doing twice the business that her old employer did, she was able to negotiate better deals on supplies and equipment. Instead, of her having to contact her suppliers, the owners of these companies were coming to her with the deals and promotions.

There was a few things, specialty equipment that Francine used that Dawn did not carry or use. She and Francine went to those companies looking for better deals, or first rights for new equipment and procedures. They were successful in their endeavors, even getting national distribution rights on a couple of these procedures and equipment.

The upcoming wedding occupied a lot of my thoughts; I guess mainly because I had a little more free time than Dawn had. Dawn was on the go from early in the morning until she arrived for dinner. We had set limits early on with regards to the number of hours we would work on the businesses. We loved the involvement but was cognizant of the need for time for us. Thus, Dawn maintained no more than a ten hour day, and I usually held mine at eight hours a day. Dawn did have to travel some since there are so many salons, a two-day trip each week to the salons that were farther than a one day drive from our house. The weekends are ours, no business, no customers, just the two of us.

In the back of my mind, I had pondered the surname thing over and over. It was getting to be a problem with me. I wanted her to take my name after marriage, but Dawn La Mont was far from an attractive combination. I searched the internet for all information about the male taking the wife’s surname. In the U.K., it was becoming more popular, but in the U.S., it was still hardly indulged in.

There were only six states in the U.S. where a male could take his wife’s surname without a legal name change being instituted. One of those states is Arizona when applying for the license a couple could state what surname would be used. I wondered what problems and situations would occur if I chose Dawn’s last name.

Finally, one evening the subject came up between us, Dawn was non-committal, probably not wanting to hurt my feelings. We discussed it for over an hour; I told her that I am leaning toward taking her last name, for several reasons. The awfulness of Dawn La Mont the first reason, the second being that her business was called Dawn Killian Beauty Supplies.

She listened but didn’t say too much. Finally, I tried to pin her down as to why she was against me using her surname. I guess I had pushed a little too hard that night, as she angrily shouted back. You haven’t the slightest idea how this will affect you; a female has to adjust to the new way of life. She is not viewed as an equal in the marriage. She gives up a part of her person, her last name, to become a part of something else. Very few couples have an equal relationship in their marriage.

You will now have to experience that for yourself, from Mr. Lamont to Ms. Killian. People are cruel, conveniently forgetting that you are a male, you gave that up when you decided to take your wife’s surname. Another female might have a little sympathy and understanding for you, but your fellow males will attack you with a vengeance. You gave up your sacred right, so obviously you are really a female at heart.

I guess I had opened a can of worms; I have never seen her so worked up. The discussion died a slow death, as we were both too involved to have a simple exchange of ideas, this resulted in it being an argument. Neither of us was making any points or resolving any issues, so the discussion was tabled until cooler heads could prevail.

Over the next few weeks, the name subject did not come up, although it should have. Business was still brisk for both of us, neither of us having the time to do much else but tend to the problems with the company. I did have the chance to talk frequently with Francine, and the subject did come up once or twice.

Francine thought the traditional method of taking the males surname would be the better choice since the alternate choice was very unconventional. On the second occasion of it coming up in conversation, she asked if I was willing to put up with all the teasing and being made fun of that would result if I chose to take her last name. I told her that I was not looking forward to it, but if it came along with the choice, I would endure it.

She told me there might be a way to avoid the hassle of taking her name, but it had its own consequences, and she was not sure that Dawn would approve of the idea. Francine said she would talk to Dawn about it, without bringing my name into the discussion, then depending on what she says, I will be informed of the possibility.

It is a very unusual solution to our problem that one of her friends used several years ago. It worked for them, and they are very happy, but whether it would be helpful in this circumstance would have to be determined. I asked her to run it by Dawn, then get back to me, but I was still favoring the option of taking her last name in marriage.

Francine did approach Dawn about the subject, first telling her about her friends and their approach to the problem of surnames. According to Francine, Dawn thought it would be a hoot, but was sure that I would not go for it. It was a subject brought up often between the two females as they tried to look at all of the possibilities and variations that might pop up.

Finally, it was time to clue me in on the options and see what I wanted to do about it. The two of them presented the deal to me after a sumptuous dinner out. I was told that it was done in a public setting so that any yelling and screaming would be minimal. Dawn started the discussion, asking me if I still wanted to take her surname in our marriage. My answer was an empathetic yes.

Next, was I still totally committed to our marriage, since this option was most likely to put the marriage under quite a bit of stress? I told her that I wanted to marry her, whatever hoops or hurdles I had to jump to do so. Dawn told me there was a way that we could join in matrimony and me take her last name without much pressure on my male self. She held my hand, squeezed it, telling me that the way to do that was for me to be the bride in the relationship.

I sat there stunned at her solution. She kept talking reminding me that same-sex couples are allowed to marry now. If we married as two lesbians, I could take her last name without much fanfare. I would need to portray myself as a lesbian for a little while to make the union more realistic, but could resort back to my male identity eventually.

The fact that I could wear the wedding dress obviously a plus in the matter. I gave her a scornful look, wanting to know why wearing the dress would be a plus for me. She giggled that of the two of us; you would make the prettiest bride, with your looks, especially that cute nose of yours, being the clincher. I couldn’t believe her; she wanted me to be the bride, just because I wanted to take her last name as my surname.

This was getting way out of control, a simple wish of mine, to maybe make things a little easier on her, and now they are planning on me getting a sex change. Ms. Kelly Killian my ass. Needless to say, nothing was resolved, in fact; it wasn’t even discussed further that night. Several days later Dawn came home early, looking for me. It was a Saturday, and she had to go in for a brief time to handle a delivery but left as soon as that was resolved. She wanted to talk about the wedding again, and what suggestions had been brought up.

She promised me no arguing; she just wanted to talk things through. She especially wanted to know what made me taking her surname such an important issue. We decided to pack a picnic lunch and head to the new house. The wrap around porch with its beautiful view of red rock country a favorite spot for us to unwind and relax. The trip to the house allowed us the time to put our thoughts together, especially me.

She made the sandwiches, grabbed a little potato salad left from a couple of days ago, and packed them into on our thermal bags. I grabbed a couple of bottles of chilled white wine, and we were off. Also a gallon of Root Beer. It is always better if you are prepared for any eventuality.

Arriving at the new house, we made our way to the porch, set out the food and made ourselves comfortable. The talk was easy here, our inhibitions not visible, our emotions more under control. The food was consumed; then we leaned back sipping the wine. Dawn started the conversation, telling me how proud of me she is, wanting to ease some of the burdens of marriage for her. She has no trouble with me taking her last name after the marriage but is fearful of what I might have to go through in the coming years.

Francine’s friends ran into a lot of troubles when they attempted something similar, resulting in them having to move to a different area to ease the harassment. She doesn’t want to put me through this, so she needs me to tell her why I want this change, and you’d better be truthful about it since it affects both of us. Not just for a few months but for the rest of our lives.

I pondered my response to her; I really didn’t know exactly why I was so gung-ho on this. It just seemed that taking her surname was the right thing to do. I reminded her of her doodling that evening when she was writing different names down seeing how they looked and sounded. I mentioned that I saw her write Ms. Kelly Killian down as one of the possible names, at that time she was thinking along the same lines as I.

She blushed a little, asking why I didn’t say something at the time. I told her that I didn’t know what she was thinking or if she was just doodling without any conscious thought behind it. All I know is that I love her with all my heart and want to share the rest of my life with her. It does not matter if I am Kelly La Mont or Kelly Killian just as long as she is by my side.

Dawn smiled, then suggested that we test the waters by letting Francine turn me into Ms. Kelly Killian for a while, to see if it causes me more trouble than it is worth. If I pass the test, I can wear the wedding dress, have the kids, and be the Mom.

If not, we can regroup and go back to Plan A. The only thing that stuck in my little pea brain was to have the kids. Surely she can’t be serious. Dawn, of course, ignored any of my thoughts and went on with her agenda. She wanted me to make an appointment with Francine, to get the ball rolling, on my conversion to Ms. Kelly Killian.

Dawn and Francine had talked, and there were a lot of treatments that would help convert me to a female at least in looks. Then after a couple of week’s trial run, I could get a better idea of what problems I might encounter as Ms. Kelly Killian. My job shouldn’t be a problem since my business mostly deals with faxed or emailed data, hence no need to actually meet people face to face. My problems would most likely be with friends or relatives who would frown on a male taking his wife’s last name. Our Mom’s the two who came to mind first.

I promised her I would get with Francine, but wanted to know what she would think if I came home decked out in a dress and heels. She giggled a little, but just stated that she loved me for who I am, and it didn’t make any difference to her how I dressed or acted. Besides with your cute nose you probably will look better as a woman than as a male.

Luckily I didn’t think about that at the time, but since that conversation, I often have the same thoughts. Since I knew our Mom’s would be the biggest problem, I decided to confront my Mom before I got hold of Francine. My Mom lived outside of Las Vegas, just over the Nevada border from Arizona, a two and a half hour drive from here. I had set a day aside to visit her, to sound her out on this subject and to take her out to lunch.

Needless to say, there are lots of restaurants in Vegas to choose from, with us ending up in one of the fancier buffets. The buffet was two hundred feet long, offering every kind of food imaginable. After making our selections we found a secluded table and nibbled at our meals. It only took Mom a couple of minutes to figure out that I had something to confess and wanted me to spill the beans. I decided to be blunt telling her that I was going to take Dawn’s last name as my surname in marriage.

She was not fazed by that thought and continued eating her meal. A few minutes later she asked if I was going to be the bride in the marriage. Whoa, how did she reach that conclusion based on what I had told her? A smile lit up her face, my reaction providing her answer. I was stammering trying to recover from her assumptions. She held my hand and asked if Dawn was alright with the decision. I told her I thought so, then went on to explain our idea in a little more detail.

My mother told me that she would have no problem with the arrangement as long as she received some grandchildren from the deal. I told her that we would work on it, but it was Dawn’s responsibility to handle the pregnancy aspect of things. Mom asked if I was the bride and wife, wouldn’t it be my job to have the kids. I looked at her in that you have to be kidding way, asking her if she remembered that I was born a male.

My Mom ignored that last statement but told me when I was ready to pick out the wedding dress, she would help me and, of course, pay for the dress. I stared at her for the longest time but finally returned to the living as she asked me how many kids did Dawn and I want in our marriage. She and her grandchildren, that topic had come up quite often in our phone conversations recently, I guess getting older does change your priorities in life. I never did answer her question directly, also quite sure the topic will be brought up again in the near future.

With nothing settled or talked about anymore, I kissed her goodbye and headed home. Dawn broke out laughing as I recounted the day’s activities, asking me if I preferred breastfeeding or formula. In mock anger, I told her breastfeeding, it is much better for the baby.

Her Mom responded the same as my Mom, wanting to know who was wearing the dress, of course, Dawn had to tell her immediately that I was to be the bride, the wife and the mother of our children. Her Mom’s response only, “Kelly will make a lovely bride.” Is it the whole world that has gone crazy; now everybody wants me to be the bride, and the mother, which last I learned was impossible for a male? Although on a couple of occasions since then, I have removed my pants to make sure that my member is still there. With the mother’s in the know, it was now time to call Francine and get my sex change.

I made the call, she asked only one question, did I want to be just a token lesbian or did I want to be believable. Ever since this subject was brought up, I had debated in my mind to what degree did I want to be transformed. I told her that I wanted to keep my male equipment if that is what she was asking, but for it to be hidden away was a given necessity to achieve the lesbian image. Now that I had said that out loud to another person, I was extremely nervous. It is one thing to think it, but to admit it to another human being puts it in a totally different perspective.

She made the appointments for me, two full days of getting rid of the male in me, although she confessed that a lot of the time it would be just unlearning old habits. Since I looked so cute already, it would be no problem to make me ultra girly. I sincerely hope she was kidding me on that. The next day was my first appointment, at the ungodly hour of seven A.M.

I notified Dawn of my commitment that night, and I guess she wanted to be sure that she got in her frequent flier miles before my little fella was hidden away. It was four A.M. before she let me get to sleep, and then, to add insult to injury, when she got up at six to get ready for the day she pushed me out of the bed. “Time for Kelly to get pretty” was her mantra as she showered and did her makeup. She was definitely looking forward to this way more than I would have imagined. I did manage to get to the salon, although, I almost dozed off a couple of times at stoplights.

Walking into the salon, one of the ones that Dawn had designed, I was shocked. It was like entering into another world. For one thing, the amount of pink used in the decor would leave a lot of people partially blind. The pink in the walls and everywhere was so pink that I could close my eyes and see nothing but pink, a bright pink I might add. I was greeted at reception by Jules, the manager of the salon, rubbing her hands together like she couldn’t wait to get her hands on me. Her first comment was you are going to be so cute, all of the girls can’t wait to get their hands on you.

She left me in one of the treatment rooms, but not before getting me naked and taking my male clothes with her. Sally was the first technician, to work on me, way too happy to use the hot wax on me, leaving me as smooth as a baby’s butt. Just the way she jerked off the cloth strips, I could tell that she was having fun. She did make up for all the pain as she rubbed some soothing lotion into my denuded areas. I was informed that with the next waxing I would no longer need to worry about body hair. The combination of a special wax and the cream used after, permanently stopped any hair re-growth. I guess I am alright with that, I was never fond of my body hair, since the macho male look was not something I ever alluded to.

As an afterthought, Sally reached up to my eyebrows, can’t leave those messy things; they will have to go. A little more wax and a cloth strip to each brow and I no longer had any eyebrow left. I started to protest, but she told me that it would be much easier this way, she was saving me many hours of tweezing eyebrows in the future. Since it was too late to reverse the process, I let the protest die a quiet death.

The same cream was used on my beard area, applied thicker and rubbed in more. It was left for thirty minutes; then she used an astringent to remove the cream and what little stubble I had at the present. Sally gave me a big hug, thanking me for letting her work her magic on my body. I got a cheek kiss as she whispered in my ear that you are going to be one hot looking babe, so cute. Not exactly what a male wanted to hear, but looking in the mirror in front of me, I could tell that today’s treatment had encouraged quite a bit of my masculinity to fade away.

Janey was the next technician to have her fun with me, her words not mine. I was still lying on the table as she entered, introducing herself and telling me what she was going to do for me. She was in charge of adding curves to my straight up and down body. She helped me to slide down the table a little more and put my feet in stirrups that were sticking out from the end of the table. She had brought several boxes with her, and as she placed them on the table next to me, I suddenly became aware of how accurate this portrayal is going to be.

She started with the boobs, placing two jiggly mounds on my denuded chest. She made marks for the correct placement, then added glue to the form and also my chest. I was told these were state of the art hi-tech breasts capable of transmitting touches to the chest and nipple area underneath. The weight of the breast form was surprisingly heavy; it made me wonder what it was like for Dawn to manage the D cup breasts she had. I guess if you grew up with them, it would not be that big a deal.

She placed each one of my hands over a breast to hold them until the glue is dried, a weird feeling if you have never held your own breasts. It was almost like they were a forbidden item, the simple act of touching them would cause trouble for me. As I held them they wobbled a little, like holding two sacks of jello, they were never still. When she told me to release them, my hands couldn’t leave the form fast enough. She chuckled, telling me that soon they would be one of my best friends, whether I touched them or some other lucky individual did the touching. The pleasure that they can give you is considerable.

She moved a little lower, spreading the stirrups wider, allowing her to get between my legs. A cool spray was felt on my groin, then nothing. She took a very realistic vulva and laid it over my groin, marking where the edges came, and checking for its fit. She manipulated my male appendages then secured my penis into the sheath of the cache sex. The numbing spray canceled out most feeling, but I could still feel when my penis was touched and when she pushed my testicles back into my body. I started to make a comment, but she asked me to remain still, and she would explain.

For a male to experience being a female, it is better when the prominent symbol of that maleness is taken away. You are no longer a male, of the superior sex, now you are just a female, a toy for the macho male, a slave to dresses and makeup, and a nurturing mother to children. At least that is the thinking of a majority of males. You will find out that you now have far more power, influence, and clout than when you were a male. This is a secret learned by females, and if you were to choose to go back to being a male, we would have to kill you or neutralize your new found knowledge.

She broke out in giggles, then ran one of my fingers over the vulva lips, then after a liberal amount of lube was placed on my finger she it slid into my new orifice. I gasped at the feeling that I was receiving, little waves of pleasure starting to move through my body. I received a hug and cheek kiss; her work is done. She did ask if I wanted a little quiet time to contemplate my new toy, but I declined. I am sure Dawn would be eager to try out the new equipment. As she picked up her tools and glue she asked me to try out the tits. With a questioning look on my face, she picked up one of my hands, placed two fingers on the nipple and told me to squeeze. I did, and I came right there on the table. My new female sex still twitching convulsively because of the nipple stimulation.

With red blushes and extreme embarrassment, I tried to blend into the top of the table. Janey was laughing out loud, then reached under the table into one of the drawers and removed a tampon. From Dawn using them I was familiar with their purpose, but to my horror, Janey removed the paper wrapper and inserted it in my new vulva. Another sharp intake of breath as she whispered in my ear that this is another reason for their use, your ejaculation will leak out over the next few hours unless you plug it up. You should get in the habit of changing them every three to four hours, and then a shower or bath tonight will take care of any leftover fluids. I did get a hug as she left the room, apparently now a member in good standing of the female sex since my orgasm.

I was able to look at my reflection in the wall mirror at the end of the table, and there for all to see was the telltale string of a tampon right between my new lips. The blushes came again, just a few moments ago, I had become a female, and now I had already started using tampons. That for a female was maybe not a big deal, but a former male needing such a female item seemed impossible.

Janey was replaced by Katrina. She is the makeup expert, but also does hair. My hair is shampooed, conditioned and set in curlers. A bonnet hair dryer is slipped over my head of curlers as I was situated in her chair. A huge case of cosmetics was wheeled over and she started on my makeup. Since I was a newbie to all of this she was going to use stains and other semi-permanent cosmetics instead of regular makeup. That way I would have time to learn to do it myself, and still look feminine all the time. I didn’t think of the implications that would have on me at the time it was being done.

She took her time applying each item carefully, making sure of its proper position on my face. Since I was laying back I could not see much of my face, the few glimpses already very feminine looking. The sound and the heat of the hair dryer was doing a number on me, my eyes slowly closing as I drifted off to sleep. I guess it was a smart move on her part to do my eyes first, since with them closed it would be difficult to apply the necessary cosmetics.

When the dryer shut off, I woke up instantly tasting the lipstick on my lips. She slid off the hair dryer, then set the chair up some. The image in the mirror made quite an impression on me, there was no male persona left, a cute attractive female the only image in the mirror. She brushed out my hair, no fancy style just a regular curly female look. I took in a deep breath, what the others had been telling me suddenly quite real. I was no longer a male, anybody looking at me or interacting with me would only see a female. Ms. Kelly Killian now just about as real as you can get.

Since I now had the female body, I was handed a robe, then taken to their clothing store next door. Two hours later I had way too big of a wardrobe, at least in my opinion. The lingerie was fantastic, if only it was on Dawn. Once I had tried on several sets of lingerie we moved on to dresses, blouses and skirts. According to my sales lady I was a natural, just the perfect size for the latest fashions, with most any style of women’s clothing looking good on my body. I did notice I was not offered any pants, I did mention the fact to her, but she showed me on my information card that I was to receive no pants of any kind. A requirement of Francine. I briefly wondered about our hiking on the weekends, a skirt or dress might hinder my participation quite a bit.

Back to the salon portion of the business so my nails could be worked on next, Ginger the tech to do so. Extensions were added my nails now extending past my fingertip by almost an inch. Many coats of nail polish were applied, the finished color a rich deep red. I was informed that it was their special polish, requiring a visit to the salon to remove it or change the color.

That concluded the services for today, tomorrow would be classes in acting like the cute female I now looked like. Voice modification if necessary would be handled along with proper deportment for a female.

Of course, Dawn showed up at that very moment, looked around the salon then took off running towards me. I was engulfed in a huge hug, as she tried to squeeze the stuffing out of me. I was dragged out of the salon, with her arranging for my wardrobe to be delivered to out house tomorrow. I won’t say she broke any speeding limits on the way home, but made the trip in half the time it took me to get to the salon this morning. Dragged out of the car and into the house, right to our bedroom and stripped out of my clothes. Pushed back on to the bed and pounced on immediately. I was kissed, titties massaged and my new slit fingered till I was a smoldering mess. This continued for most of the night as I pleaded with her to stop. She ignored me, I must have come numerous times not remembering how many or any detail about the orgasms. I knew I was leaking from my new female sex, at times my legs wet all the way to my knees.

Then she had the audacity to push me out of bed the next morning, so that she could take me to my salon appointment. My car still at the salon from yesterday. I did make it through my lessons for the day, my voice altered till it sounded so feminine, and told it is now my voice for the upcoming years. So much for this being a trial period, breasts, vagina, makeup and now my voice. I did make it home, eventually dragging my tired stressed out body to the bed. I was asleep in minutes not remembering if I even managed to get undressed.

Dawn did find me, deciding to continue her assault on my body, a pleasant way to unwind from a hectic day. I woke during another Dawn caused orgasm, opened my eyes briefly then moaned and tried to roll away from her. No suck luck, three hours later I was soaked again, my mind pure mush from all the stimulation. I never came so much in my entire life, lucky to be able to do so once a week in the past.

I never did see another piece of male clothing, everything female in my closet mostly dresses and skirts. I guess the lesbian excuse is the one we will use if asked since I now looked the part.

Mom made the trip a couple of weeks later, wedding dresses on her agenda. Three days later and visits to every dress shop within hundreds of miles she found the one I was going to wear at my wedding. Not my first choice, a flouncy dress with huge skirt, a plunging bodice, and yards and yards of lace trim. I complained, but was totally ignored. Dawn loved it when she was shown pictures of me in the dress. The fact that I had to wear a corset to get into the dress an added plus as far as she was concerned.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

June; Life Of A Female

June; Life Of A Female

My girlfriend and I had been together for almost a year now. We weren’t officially living together, we each had an apartment, but most of the time her apartment is home for us. We each had fairly good jobs, a real advantage in this depressed economy. Our hometown of choice is Phoenix, Az. I should clarify that, Scottsdale is the town, although a suburb of the larger town it is still separate and unique. From close college friends who lived in other towns, they all complimented us on our choice of where to live, their choices not working out as well for them as ours did for us. The economy here had a lot of electronics based industry, which tended to keep things here a little more stable.

We had made gestures towards becoming a couple, we shared a checking account, a safe deposit box, and we each had keys to the other’s apartment and vehicles. We had talked about marriage, but both deciding that it could wait for a while, our careers and life in general needed further exploration. We were comfortable with each other, neither of us worried about wandering eyes or affairs with others. No close relatives that needed marriage to make our relationship right in their eyes. We spent as much time together as possible, lots of romantic things transpired, but actual sex was able to be avoided. At times that was a real task, the heat of the moment and our love for each other made abstaining extremely difficult at times.

Doreen is a senior executive assistant for the CEO of her company. She was hired for another position but moved up through the ranks fairly quickly. She is good at her job, almost able to anticipate her boss’s next request, having everything ready before he requests it. Her salary is sixty thousand a year, but her fringe benefits make the job enticing, really enticing. There are lots of different benefits offered these days, Doreen has most of them in her employment package including three weeks’ vacation, medical and dental coverage, stock options and profit sharing, just to name a few.

I work as a salesperson for a software company, located in one of the satellite towns surrounding the metropolitan Phoenix area. Usually, I do quite well, bringing in about seventy thousand a year. Recently sales are getting harder, the depressed economy not allowing companies the luxury of updating software on their computer systems as often as they used to do. They love our product, but it is expensive. I had invested in the company from day one, buying shares whenever I had an opportunity. I felt confident that the investment would eventually pay off, our product used by the majority of businesses today. If it got to where sales were too hard to come by, I would sell my stock in the company, maybe providing me with a comfortable living for a few years.

My part of the perfect life started to come apart a few weeks later. A Chinese company bought a majority of our stock in a hostile takeover. They wanted our software, not the company itself. The restructuring of the company came over the next week or two, several hundred people were laid off, and a couple of the branches were closed. It didn’t look good, we knew what they wanted, it was only a matter of time before I wouldn’t have a job. Luckily, the stock did go up in value, since the company is now owned by a foreign business, the analysts figuring that they would soon be selling our software worldwide, something we had not done in the past.

I wanted to catch it at its height if I could time it right, I figured this would be my only chance to secure a comfortable future. Jobs were scarce, especially for mid and upper-level positions, my chances of finding something soon would be almost nil. Add in to that equation that my experience is as a salesperson and the reality of not working for a while is imminent.

Two weeks later I am called into my boss’s office and given a couple of options. If I resigned, I would be offered some additional shares of stock, a kind of financial bribe to get me to quit. If I turned that down, they would let me work six weeks, the minimum time they had for notice; then that would be it. Personnel files would show that I was let go, due to financial reasons. I would be issued a letter of recommendation either way, but if I resigned it would be more favorable in its wording. The end of my employment had come, not totally unexpected, but still quite a blow to my ego.

I bargained with him for more shares; I knew he would have some latitude in his offers, determined to get the best I could talk him into. After an hour of going back and forth, he upped the offer one more time, and I accepted. It would be the next morning before the shares would be transferred to my name, so I made a point to be at my stockbrokers early the next day. That night I kept from telling Doreen what had happened, I wanted to be sure that I got the deal concluded before I told her. When I arrived at the brokers in the morning, he checked the ownership of the last shares; then I cashed in all of my shares with him giving me a cashier’s check for the full amount. Later that day the company announced closing down of all of our branches over the next six weeks, in the future, their people would do all of the selling and maintenance of the product.

As I made my way home I considered myself very lucky, if I hadn’t gone straight to my stockbroker, I would have lost almost a hundred thousand dollars. I did stop at our bank and put the money in our checking account with a good sized portion in our safe deposit box. I stopped and picked up some Mexican food for supper since my cooking skills end with boiling water. I placed it in the oven with the heat barely on to keep warm and then made my way upstairs to change. I put on a set of sweats, my normal attire for around the house.

As I came into the living room, Doreen was just coming in the door. I got hugged, her first question is do I still have a job. She had been on a two-day business trip with some of her bosses, and we had not talked since she had left, other than a short phone conversation. I told her what happened, her sigh of relief when I told her what I had accomplished made her feel much better.

We ate and talked, mainly about the company and what I was going to do now. I told her I would spend a couple of weeks to see if there is anything there to be had in the job market, but thought that unless I changed careers, or where I lived, I doubted I would be employed for the next few years. Moving to another locale was out of the question because of Doreen’s job, you don’t walk away from that type of job to start over at the bottom.

The next two weeks passed quickly; I managed to hand out over a hundred resumes, but not a single response came back. I had hoped to at least get a phone call, maybe an interview. One of my friends who worked in the same field sent out over a thousand resumes, to companies all over the U.S. and received only three responses to his intensive job search. I wasn’t interested in moving out of state, so I limited my search to the metro Phoenix area. Not an unreasonable desire since Phoenix and the Valley of the Sun was an electronics hub, similar to Silicon Valley earlier in the decade.

Doreen and I decided it wouldn’t warrant wasting any more resources in the pursuit of a job, gas and car maintenance adding up quite quickly. I tried finding something to do around the apartments to keep busy, but my lack of training in household chores is a definite deterrent. We did decide to move in together, cutting the expense of the second apartment. That kept me busy for a couple of weeks moving my stuff and cleaning my old apartment. Her living quarters are larger and in a better part of town. When that is completed, the question still remained as to what to do with my time again.

I started going to afternoon movies; then that progressed to reading at the library. If you have seen four or five movies these days, you have seen most of everything they have to offer now, one movie and a multitude of takeoffs on the same subject. Reading being my other interest to wile away the hours, I had always been an avid reader in school, reading almost anything I could get my hands on. I didn’t trust myself to check out the books, figuring I would forget to bring them back and made to pay a fine. So I spent the afternoons reading at one of the city library branches, most of the libraries had areas for reading, where it was quiet and peaceful.

I still searched the classifieds every day, hoping for something to pop up, but other than fast food and retail there is nothing. If I hadn’t had the money I made on selling the stock I would have pursued a job in retail, it being a much better choice than a fast food career.

The last few nights I noticed Doreen working on something in the living room, while I watched TV. There really isn’t anything good to watch, but when there is not anything else to do you settle for anything. On Saturday morning she appeared at breakfast with a pad of notes, most likely what she had been working on. Our breakfasts usually consisted of cereal and some type of juice, easy and not complicated. We ate in silence, then after doing the dishes, she asked me to sit down.

She didn’t like me wasting away doing nothing, we had plenty of money, so the financial aspects of this were not important. She thought she knew me well enough that I wouldn’t take on something voluntarily without being pushed to do it. I smiled, she does know me pretty well. Now she has put together a plan that will ease me into something worthwhile, but my performance will be the sole determining factor as to what I end up doing.

“What I have done is assign a point value to everything that needs to be done around the house. For instance, doing the dishes will give you a set number of positive points, however, if you don’t do the dishes you receive the same number of negative points. At the end of each week, you get to use your positive points in something you want to do with me. At the same time if you have attained some negative points I can use those points to change you in some way.”

If you are good you get rewarded, if you are bad, I get to change something about you, my choice. Once we start this, you must comply with all aspects of this. She shoved the pad before me where she had listed common household chores and the point value of each. Then they were optional chores and their point values, the next list had things relating to our relationship, and the final list had things relating to our families and relatives. I could tell that she had put a lot of thought into this, it did attract my attention, how she had worded each list of tasks quite in depth. She flipped the page showing where I would be starting out with two basic chores for each weekday. Weekends would remain free of chores, except for where I missed a weekday due to sickness or we were out of town for a day.

If I ended with a negative point total for the week, I would be assigned another chore to be done until all the chores were assigned. Then any further failure would result in chores related to the other lists being assigned to me. Then the clincher, the part that made me agree to this silly proposition. Positive point totals would allow me to have sex with Doreen any way I wanted it; negative point totals would deny me the privilege of sex plus she could make a change to me, her choice.

She thought it is fair, maybe keeping me interested during the week knowing that I am working towards something. When I am first assigned a task, she will educate me in doing it properly, but thereafter if I didn’t perform it right, I would be issued negative points.

I set there thinking it over, complicated in a way, but maybe interesting enough to keep the boredom from getting to me. Not doing anything most days is getting to me, you think when you are employed that having nothing to do is the goal in life, but that changes drastically when the reality of life becomes clear. I pondered the decision to be made, why Doreen has to make everything so complicated is beyond me, but there is enough intrigue there to entice me.

Nothing more is brought up that evening, but in the morning, Doreen asks if I am in or out. “I’m in, maybe not such a good idea, but I am really bored out of my mind, this is better than what I am doing now.” I get a big smile, and she leaves for work.

That evening she instructs me in the proper way to do dishes, the temperature of the water, the amount of soap used and the correct way to rinse and dry them. I also learned that the job is not complete until the dishes are put away. Doreen never used a dishwasher, so her dishes got washed in a sink, rinsed and put in a strainer to dry. Including instruction time it took about thirty minutes to complete. The next chore she gave me instructions in is vacuuming. One room a day, except for the living room, that had to be done twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays.

It seemed simple, so I was ready for the first day of my new daily activities. Since this is Friday, I received a two-day reprieve; there is a Home and Garden Show in town, so we spent an afternoon and the next morning browsing the exhibits. I forgot all about the scheme until late Sunday night when Doreen brought it up again. She just wanted to ensure that I hadn’t forgot the deal. Monday would start my accumulation of points; I hoped all would be positive.

When Monday rolled around, I dressed quickly, ate some breakfast, and then tackled the vacuuming. I made a point to do a thorough job, even moving a few smaller pieces of furniture to get under them. I even got on my hands and knees to make sure it is done right looking under furniture and in the corners of the room. I put the vacuum back in the closet, feeling confident in my actions, already counting my points in my head.

The dishes were to be done in the evening after dinner, so that had to wait. I picked up around the apartment, not wanting anything obvious to influence my supervisor when she got home from work. I decided to go to the library and read for a while, then come home in time to place some frozen meals we had purchased in the oven for dinner.

The afternoon worked out as I wanted, I got the meals in the oven and was waiting for Doreen to get home. She asked how things had gone, I told her of my efforts, then told her I went to the library to read after doing my new chore. The frozen meals were not that good, but still food, and since I couldn’t cook anything a simple solution to dinner.

We planned two nights a week to eat out, those we would enjoy much more than the TV dinners the rest of the nights. She helped me get the dishes to the sink, and I got to work. I filled the sink, placed the dishes to soak, then washed them and rinsed them, placing them in the dish strainer to get the excess moisture off. I then took a towel and wiped each dish carefully and put it in the appropriate cupboard.

I again made sure that I had accomplished the task as shown and joined Doreen in the living room. She complimented me on doing a good job of vacuuming; she had checked some of the same spots as I had, then headed to the closet. I remembered then that I had to empty the bag before I put the vacuum up. She looked in the closet, noticing the full bag, but didn’t say anything. Her next stop is the kitchen, checking the dishes to see if I had gotten them clean and that I had put everything away. She smiled as she went through the cabinets, till she got to the cups we used for our tea. I had failed to get the moisture out of the cups, I had wiped the outside of the cup, but didn’t wipe the inside of the cup dry. She gave me a hug, I will overlook these two things today, but if there are more mistakes this week, I will have to double any negative point total.

Of course, she is smiling ear to ear; I think this exercise is more for her benefit than mine. I asked her if I ended up with a negative point total, what changes she would make to me. She walked to the bedroom and brought back her lists of chores and flipped to the back page. She showed it to me, and as I read it my legs became weak, my knees began to buckle, and I fainted. When I started to regain consciousness, she is holding a wet washcloth over my eyes, wiping my forehead with it. When I started to move, she removed the washcloth and leaned over and gave me a rather passionate kiss on the lips. I looked up at her, my face reflecting the distress and unanswered questions that were filling my mind. She caressed the sides of my face, running her fingers through my hair.

As I started to say something, she suggested that I wait a while, think about what you saw that caused the distress, but hold any comments. Tonight when we get ready for bed, I will tell you my reasons for the changes, and we will talk about what is coming up in your life. Believe me; I did a lot of thinking on what I saw on that sheet of paper.

When we first met, Doreen had been at a Halloween party that I also attended. I ended up dancing with her before the night was over, even though my costume was very feminine and girly. One of my female roommates had dressed me as a cheerleader; she had gone way over what I had in mind, more than a few people thinking that I was an actual female. My reasonably small build and long blonde hair didn’t help matters any; then you take into consideration my cute face (her words), and you can see why I had no trouble looking the part.

Doreen while dancing with me told me repeatedly that I made a very pretty female, and that she is glad to be able to secure a dance with me. We did exchange phone numbers that night, called each other several times, eventually leading to a date, then to a relationship.

From what I saw on the list she intends to carry this much farther than my Halloween masquerade. I know that from now on I will be paying a lot more attention to my chores, negative points will cause my life to become difficult. The items on the list would make me quite feminine, and not just for a few days. This is a side of Doreen I have never seen, making me wonder where all of this is headed.

That evening I did correct my shortfalls, getting the vacuum bag empty, then made sure all of the cups, in fact, all of the dishes were dry and put away properly. The chores I had been assigned gained quite a bit more significance, the consequences of doing poorly suddenly making a huge difference in my thinking. Doreen had gone to get ready for bed first with me only twenty minutes behind her. As I slid into the bed next to her, she laid her head on my chest and told me why this meant so much to her.

“She had exposure to several lesbian encounters during her school years, never participated in any, but watching others had caused an effect on her. She had talked with a few girlfriends over the years, done a little kissing and body exploration with some girlfriends but nothing more. Then she met me and the fascination with two loving females faded. It has sparked a few memories over the years, but nothing that lasted.”

“Then when you resigned, and we became financially secure, my imagination went into overdrive. I remembered how we met, you in your cheerleader costume; that night at the party I was constantly wet thinking about you. I had daydreams with you wearing lipstick, or a cute miniskirt, even going to the salon with me.” Several times I tried to interrupt, but she silenced me telling me just to shut up and listen to her. It is said with such conviction I did as she wanted, not something she has done before, at least, not to me.

“These dreams, visions, or whatever you want to call them have happened more frequently, to the point I want to explore them with you. I think I know you well enough you would not want to participate in this unless you are forced to. So the chores, the points, the whole setup designed to allow you some control over your life. If you do well, you can avoid the perils that you have seen a glimpse of, if you don’t, you get a chance to enter into my world. It is all up to you, I am not forcing anything on you, you can avoid all of the perils, but you will have to work at it.”

“I have to confess that just setting this all up has made me wet with anticipation, maybe if you relax a little, trying to keep your masculinity might also affect you in much the same way.” She reached out and grabbed at my crotch, her hand finding my rock hard penis trying to bore a hole out of my pants. A big smile found its way to her face, a wink and then a squeeze almost made me squirt my load.

Since my organ had betrayed me, I couldn’t deny that the proposition had no effect on me. I swallowed hard a couple of times before I found a voice and could get out a word or two. I asked how far she intends to carry this, some of the things that I got a glimpse of were quite severe, almost separating myself from my masculinity? “To keep the premise viable, not just some words, I am going to take it all the way to completion. You will either end up a satisfied male, with all the sex he can handle or I will have a female lover for the rest of my life. One of us is going to be quite happy, but just maybe both of us will find a side of us we didn’t know existed, a side we can live with and enjoy.”

When I was allowed to speak I tried to get her to change her mind, this whole idea is crazy, but all she would say is you agreed to it, the game is on, let the better person win. I knew I had lost that part of the argument, one; she is enjoying this too much, two; she has never changed her mind after she has come to a decision. The possible outcome sent shivers through my whole body, a lot to lose if I failed to do well at my tasks. She turned out the light; the discussion is over; she did hug me tight, and we fell asleep that way.

I stayed in bed until she left for work, partly because I didn’t want to face her until I could think some things through. Everything now took on a new significance, there is suddenly much more at stake than before, mainly my masculinity. I eventually got up and went to the bathroom, then went to the kitchen and had some cereal. I returned to the bedroom, and dressed in some of my sweats, then vacuumed the bedroom and the hall. I even moved all of the furniture, to vacuum underneath, not wanting to risk the chance of getting negative points. As I put the vacuum back, I emptied the bag, even washing the filter for the vacuum. After closing the closet door, I re-opened it to make sure the vacuum is sitting there properly and that the bag is empty, not trusting myself to do as required without double checking.

I again returned to the library to read some, but my mind is still going over some of the things I saw on that damned list. A thought came to me; maybe I could do something extra from the list to possibly gain some cushion in my quest for positive points. I put the book back and hurried home. I went right to the bedroom and looked for the list of chores. I found it in her nightstand drawer and perused the list for something that I might do; that would not require her to show me how to first. The only thing that might be a possibility is doing laundry. I had done some laundry for myself when I was still single, so it is not a totally foreign entity to me.

I gathered up our laundry basket and went to the laundry room. Each apartment had its own washing machine and dryer, one of the things that had endeared the place to her in the first place. I sorted the colors from the whites, then partially filled the washer with clothes. It turned out to be a mixed load, some of hers and some of mine. I added the detergent according to the directions, then the fabric softener. I set the size and type of load, then started the machine. When it had finished, I moved the items to the dryer and turned it on.

I am so pleased with myself, doing something on my own, and hoping to gain some extra points in doing so. When the dryer beeped, I removed the clothes and folded them on our bed, wanting them to be visible so she would notice that I had done them. Tonight we are going to eat out, so no dinner preparation is necessary. Doreen is a little bit late but heads to the bedroom right away to get changed to go out. I had already dressed in some chinos and a golf shirt, so I stayed in the living room waiting for her. She appears dressed to the nines, in an LBD that appears to have been painted on her body.

My interest is suddenly very obvious, my pants getting to be too tight for comfort. Doreen notices and as she walks by, brushes up against me, making things much worse. We do eventually get to the restaurant she has picked out, ordered some wine and our meals. We talk about everything and nothing, but the time passes quickly and soon we are headed home. I walk straight to the bedroom, the clothes I had laundered earlier still laying on the bedspread.

I change into my pajamas, then turn on the TV in the bedroom. She takes quite a while in the bathroom, coming out in this next to nothing nightie. She heads out to the kitchen to get a drink, then returns to the bedroom. She sits in the other chair next to me and watches what I have on the TV. I finally lose what little interest I had in it and switch it off. I turn to look at her and notice she has her list with her. I hope it means I will receive some positive points, but her look unnerves me. When she is sure, she has my attention she starts. “The vacuuming job is very well done, I get positive points for it.” I notice she has a space for each task, the point total assigned and comments on what is right and what is wrong.

Each day is listed separately and then a space for the weekly total. Then she comments on the dishes; I looked puzzled; we ate out there are no dishes in the sink. Like a child she takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen, there in the sink are my lunch dishes and three glasses that we used to get water. I receive a negative point total for this, and then she marks yesterday’s results as negative and doubles it like she said she would do if I goofed up during the week.

Then she dealt with me doing the laundry. She applauded me doing something extra without being asked so she will give me some positive points for initiative, incidentally she had that on a line on her list, so I received fifty points. Now as to the quality of the job and its completeness. Several of my items are faded, requiring the item to be replaced. Another of my items has been shrunk in the high heat of the dryer, and it will also need replacing. Two of your items that used to be white are now faded, though they are still wearable. I will have to give you negative points for this chore; you also did not complete the task, half of the laundry still needs to be done.

I saw her give me the negative points, but then I realized that the laundry chore was worth quite a bit more than the other chores. I received five hundred negative points, my head dropped down, my heart stopped, and I think I even quit breathing for a minute.

Judgment day seemed to be quickly approaching, and I had a very impressive negative point total. I got a hug for trying to do something extra, but she then explained once I started a chore I had it added to my daily chores. To empathize the point she showed me where it is spelled out in the agreement between us. She then showed me where it stated that if clothing was destroyed beyond be usable, that I had to replace that clothing with identical items or suffer a three hundred point penalty for each item.

She quietly handed me the three items, told me where I could probably find a replacement and then marked it on her sheet. I apparently have three days to replace the item before I am awarded the negative points.

I sat hard on the sofa in the living room; she has spent too much time fine tuning this agreement; I see now that it will take desperate measures to keep me from falling into her clutches, two days into it, and I am already near the edge of the cliff. I keep thinking of some of the things that I saw on the list, then shuddering as the goose pimples come up on my arms and legs. I had been sitting there for an hour when she comes to grab my hand and drag me back to the bedroom. She hugs me; “you might as well get used to the idea, a female you is in your future, months and years as my lover and plaything. I know you are scared, I can feel it when I touch you, but once you see the real you, you will embrace it wholeheartedly.”

I am not sure I shared her enthusiasm in that I would welcome it and embrace the female lifestyle. To be honest, I am progressing towards that femaleness faster than I had ever thought possible. The next day, I practiced a kind of preciseness that is unheard of these days. I moved every piece of furniture in the room that is on today’s agenda to be vacuumed, carefully ran the machine over the carpeting, then thoroughly cleaned the vacuum before putting it back in the closet, I actually took the machine apart cleaning every last nook and cranny of its being.

I did the remainder of the laundry, separating every last class of clothes making sure that all items matched in care and temperature use. After all had been washed and dried, I folded them and carefully put them away. I walked the whole house looking for any laundry that had escaped the laundry basket, determined not to allow any negativity to come into play tonight. Dinner is a couple of frozen entrees, better than some of them, but still lacking in actual taste. I did the same careful screening of the kitchen as I had done for the laundry and vacuuming, making sure that nothing is missed. Satisfied in my endeavors, I went to the living room.

Doreen is finishing some paperwork she had brought home from the office, as I enter. She places it back in her briefcase and then gives me a giant hug. We sit on the couch and cuddle a little, her the first to start off the conversation. She asked if I had double checked everything I had done today, making sure that all is done to her standards. I blushed she knows me to well, I replied that I had, and I am sure all will be to her satisfaction. She looked at me and asked if I had replaced her things yet, I swallowed hard, I really forgot that little tidbit since I was so busy trying to keep from getting any deeper in negativity. She suggested that I work on that now, the malls are still open, and I had only two days left to get it done.

I quickly got dressed and headed out the door, when I arrived at the mall, I still had an hour and a half to find her replacements. I checked the stores where she had bought them originally, but the items are something they no longer carry. I had taken the items with me, causing me to get quite a few looks, carrying around a bra, a panty, and a garter belt. The first associate that I had talked to did give me a bag to put them in to ease my embarrassment in carrying them around. At the last mega lingerie store that I had stopped at, the assistant manager told me they still carried it, but only in an antique ivory color. It is a set, with a price tag of over a hundred dollars. I did buy it, walking out of the store a lot lighter in the wallet than when I came in.

I felt good, at my accomplishment, no more negative points to deal with, maybe things are turning around for me. The drive home seems quicker; I am looking forward to Doreen seeing that I am a responsible and caring person replacing her things that I had damaged. I entered the house telling her that I am home. I got an enthusiastic hug; then she led me to the bedroom, where she had laid out some of the things that I had laundered today. Next to the bed is the vacuum, and I had a sudden ill feeling come over me.

She told me to plug in the vacuum and turn it on. I complied, but when I turned on the switch, there is no response. After I had taken it apart to clean it, I never made sure it still ran. My shoulders drooped down; things were not looking good. She pointed to the items on the bed, asking me to pick them up and feel them. I did, they felt alright, maybe a little stiffer than they usually were. The thought suddenly hit me; that is why the fabric softener is on the shelf next to the detergent, why I had forgotten that today is unreal. She mentioned that the dishes are clean, a very good job, but several of the plates were in the wrong stack, and the silverware is mixed up now, the better silver now mixed with the everyday silver.

Another disastrous day, I got up and told her I had to use the restroom, then went down the hall to the guest bathroom. I needed to be alone for a while, to figure out what I am going to do. I now realize that no matter what I do and how I do it there is always a way to find some fault in the completion of the task. I sat on the toilet after locking the door, going over what few options I might still have in this. There turned out to be not many available, then realized why Doreen is so good at her job. She had anticipated my every reaction and had planned a way to force me to her objective. From the time I had signed the agreement, my fate was sealed, and the objective she wanted is assured. I set there for quite some time, looking at the situation with a new perspective and a greater appreciation of her skills and devious planning.

I eventually left the bathroom, walking back to the bedroom, an idea in my head of a way to get to the crux of the matter without all of the games. As I entered, she is sitting on the bed watching what I am going to do. I asked to see the list again; I need to check on some things and how they are worded. She opened her nightstand drawer and removed the list, handing it to me. I took it over to her vanity, set down and read it from cover to cover. Whenever I looked up to see her expression, she had a smile on her face.

When I finished, I laid the list down and contemplated my next move. I wanted peace with her, nothing that she could do to me would lessen my love for her, but I also wanted a little control of my life. I recognized I would soon be all female, that is spelled out in every line and word on the pages she had written. I just didn’t realize her intent and glossed over everything seeing only what I wanted to see in the deal. I got up and moved over to the bed, laying down beside her, taking hold of one of her hands. She pointed to the bag of replacements that I had purchased.

“I cut her off; I know they are the wrong color, probably the wrong size, and yes I realize that I have nine hundred more negative points added to my total. I want the agreement torn up, in its place I offer the following compromise. I will subject myself to one of your wishes every week willingly, your choice, but let’s not go through all of this drama to get what you want. I want to find a school that teaches cooking and doing household chores and enroll myself. In exchange, you will treat me like a cherished wife, affording me money for clothes, makeup, lingerie, and of course appointments for a beauty salon to make me pretty and feminine. I can’t have you babies, but I will gladly raise our children if you desire.”

“Like my namesake of the fifties, I want to be called June, loved like a wife, cherished as a lover and treasured as a companion. Now do I get a kiss and my own credit card so I can get beautiful for you, or do you have something else in mind?”

She rolled over on top of me, pinning my arms above my head and latched onto one of my nipples. My t-shirt is wadded up around my neck, my shorts are tented quite a bit, and I am sweating. Before she did much else, she reached over to her drawer once again and pulled out a jewelry box. She removed the ring from it and slid it on my finger, then the second ring placing it next to the other. I raised my hand to look at the rings, a perfect match to the set I had given her earlier in life. When we first started dating and living together I had given her an engagement ring and wedding band, even though we were not married, I wanted any possible Lotharios to know she is off the market.

As we laid there she asked if I am sure that I wanted to give in so easily, she is enjoying the game, and the anticipation of me becoming her female lover and wife keeps her wet all the time. I giggled, yes. I know a female giggle from a former staunch male, a gesture that emphasized my submissiveness recently. I somehow didn’t feel like much of a male, and I knew it wouldn’t take her long to change my appearance to her ideal woman.

“I am as sure that I can be, I love you immensely, and if this will make you happy, I will do my best to comply. I do ask one thing, leave me with my manhood until we are sure that this is what you want. I do want the lessons in becoming a housewife and cook if I am going to do this I want to do it right. I want to be able to show you how much I care for you by taking care of you and our home the way a wife would take care of her husband and home.”

I got a big hug; then she asked one more time if I am sure. I told her I am sure; I love her with all that I possess and want to take care of her for the rest of my life. She got the biggest smile on her face, then retreated to the kitchen.

I am left alone on the bed for a few minutes as she made a few calls in the kitchen. When she returned to the bedroom, she told me I had an appointment in the morning at her salon to become her woman. Then after dinner, I had my first lesson with a teacher to learn to cook and take care of a house. The teacher is a friend of mine, who takes students to learn to be a better wife. She knows all about you, and will give you the knowledge you desire. Then she approached me and gently lifted my head till I am looking directly into her eyes. “I love you with all my heart and soul after you have made the transformation I want to get married for real, to make an honest woman out of you. I also want to buy a house for you, a beautiful woman needs a house of her own, to make a real home out of it, a home for the two of us.”

I wasn’t allowed to say much after that, every time I opened my mouth, she kissed me, using her tongue to probe my open mouth. I got the hint after the third time I tried some type of communication. She cuddled me closely, and I drifted off to sleep in her arms. She helped me out of bed the next morning, keeping me moving along as I dressed in some clothes she had laid on the bed. She brushed my hair for me, then applied some lipstick to my lips and then I am pushed out the door.

She drove me to the salon, a nice gesture on her part until I realized I had no way home other than her picking me up. She dragged me into the salon and right to a room at the back of the salon. She helped me get undressed, then grabbed my clothes and left after giving me an erotic kiss. So much for me making a break for it later, I quickly came to the conclusion I am in over my head, Doreen is smarter than I am, having successfully outwitted me in every facet of this deal. I resigned myself to becoming the female she wants, maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought.

The stylist entered the room and giggled at my state of undress. The first words out of her mouth, you must be Doreen’s new wife, glad to meet you, I am Celeste, your stylist and guide into the wonderful world of femininity. Get up on the table and we will begin your journey. She looked at the cards that she brought in with her, making small comments as she read them. You are scheduled for the basic sex change, tits, ass, and hair. Over the next few weeks, we have you down for almost every service we offer, and then after that a weekly maintenance appointment to keep you at your feminine best. Your appointments are always at this time and day; you should expect to be here for at least six hours, sometimes more.

Today will be a little longer since the procedure for breast creation is a minimum of eight hours. Now lay back and let’s get this show on the road. She applied the cream to my entire body, including my eyebrows and beard area. The cream on my body is removed after thirty minutes, what little hair I had disappearing with it. Included in the areas covered were my groin and between the crack of my butt. The cream on my face and eyebrows is left on for an hour, when she removed it my face looked clear, not even a shadow of beard remained. After a repeated application at a future appointment, my body hair would be completely dead, unable to grow again.

Then she concentrated on my groin, spraying a numbing agent to keep everything calm and unfeeling. She worked down there for a while, then used glue to anchor her efforts, when I raised my head to look, an image of a male is not there, my male organ no longer visible. When she finished down there, I had an exact match to Doreen’s female sex, two small puffy areas with a slit in between. Even the lack of pubic hair matched Doreen.

Celeste then moved to my chest, measuring and marking two areas on my smooth hair free chest. A machine is wheeled in, and two fairly good sized cups are centered over the marked areas. The breast cups are glued to my chest making for a secure connection, then a syringe of fatty substance is inserted into each cup. The hoses are attached to the cups and the machine starts. The cups start filling as the suction starts pulling flesh into them. Then after ten minutes of sucking extra tissue into the cups, the cups start to vibrate, causing the tissue in the cups to bounce up and down in response to the vibration.

The feeling is erotic; I want to hold the cups with my hands to stop the vibrations, but my hands on the cups do not stop the pulsations of the tissue in the cups. I look up at Celeste, the smile on her face says she is enjoying my discomfort. She whispers in my ear, there is a price for beauty, and you are paying for having boobs now.

The bouncing up and down of my tissue is also causing my mind to turn to mush, I can’t think straight, then I look at the slowly filling cups and wonder how that is possible. Shortly the cups will be full, and I will have a set of breasts that will rival most females. I am sorry, but my mind can’t handle that thought, just a few hours ago I was a normal looking male, and now I have a vagina and soon to be two voluptuous breasts.

Then I realized that I had agreed to accept one item from her list each week, in her salon at the present and scheduled to complete a lengthy list before she picks me up tonight. I have certainly underestimated her, her thinking and planning easily able to outsmart me at every turn. Heck, this is not even a fair contest, I had lost before we even started, just not aware of the eventual outcome.

With the vibrations still permeating my body, she moves her attention to my nails. I contemplate stopping this here but realize that she will just do something else that I won’t be aware of till it is too late. Might as well get this over with now, she will have her female, and I will have some peace, at least, for a few days. The manicure left me with long elegant nails, three coats of polish topped off with a glossy topcoat. I stared at them, an obvious statement of my new found femininity.

Next on the agenda for today is my hair. I have fairly long hair for a male, the ends of my locks nearly reaching my shoulders. She washed and conditioned my hair, then wrapped my head in a towel to get the excess moisture out of it. The forms were still on my chest, even though the vibrations had ceased and the machine had been turned off. The hoses and cables from the forms were still connected, leaving me with two cups filled to capacity with tissue that I did not know existed. The source of the vibrations had ceased, though I could still feel the tissue in the forms vibrating. It was obvious that the suction was still keeping the flesh in the cups, the pump just not pulling any more in.

I found out the forms stay on, eventually dissolving, leaving only soft breast tissue in its place. I knew then that the female part of me would be with me for quite some time. Since the tissue was sucked from my body, it would not be just a matter of it returning to its previous state. The female June is a fact, and apparently for the long term.

I am helped to her styling chair, from the sinks and the towel removed. She ran a coarse comb through the hair getting out any snags or knots, then sectioned it off and secured the sections in tiny pin curls all over my head. The curls were sprayed with a setting gel and then each section is wound on several curlers of different sizes, depending on where on my head they resided. After all of my hair is in the curlers I am moved under a dryer, the warm heat of the dryer making me extremely sleepy.

Even though my hair is in curlers, it still gives the illusion of a female, only my lack of makeup still keeping the looks from being totally female. Celeste figured that, so her next area of attack is my face, concealer to hide any blemishes, then a foundation to even the skin tones on my face. She penciled in some eyebrows, although the fine line that she drew there not much wider than a fine point magic marker. The placement of the line is much higher than my natural brow line and arched drastically high above my eyes, tapering to a point beyond the end of my eye. Then eyeliner to both the top and bottom lids of my eye, framing my eye perfectly. Some bright pink eye shadow, with ivory highlights right under my brows. Some rouge on my cheeks feathering up towards my ears to emphasize my cheekbones, then several coats of mascara to make my eyelashes stand out. Finally, she lined my lips with a pencil, a dark pink/burgundy color, filled in with some lipstick in the dark pink color matching my fingernails.

She told me to follow her to another door, leading to their clothes area. The store is larger than the salon, filled with all types of women’s clothes. The cape I had been wearing is removed, and Celeste took my measurements including my shoe size. Then she headed out to the racks to select some appropriate things for me. She returned a couple of minutes later with an arm full and hung them on the hooks of a changing room. Then she went back out to get me some lingerie to wear, that being found on the shelves on the far side of the store.

She returned and laid them on a table at the side of the room. Panties and bra first, the sensations of slipping into the panties and them being pulled up my hair free legs almost made me do something very unladylike. The bra felt surprisingly comfortable, helping to support my breasts. The forms were already softening, the weight pulling down, making me aware of the weight of my new appendages. The bra did make all the difference, the breast neatly ensconced in the cup of the bra, caressing the nipple as I made small movements causing the breast to shift in the cup. I could already feel the nipple at the end of the cup as it is encased in the bra.

Then a skirt is slid up my legs and fastened behind me. The fit in the thighs is tight, a little more room at the knees, but not enough to walk comfortably, the skirt restricting my steps and stride. The blouse is next, a very sheer material, in an off white color, going perfectly with the color of the skirt. A contrast existed between the two, but the colors did go together. A pair of four-inch pumps in the same off white color now adorned my feet, making me feel suddenly unstable.

Celeste told me to take short steps, keeping one foot in front of the other as if I was walking a tightrope. She had me walk around the salon several times, getting used to my footwear and the restriction of the skirt. As I passed the mirrors on the wall, I noticed that my bra clearly showed through the blouse, the lace trim even noticeable. I looked every bit the female, only my hair still in curlers ruining the effect.

That problem is handled next; the curlers removed, and my hair brushed into a pageboy style, the ends curling under at my neck and sides. The last vestige of my male appearance now removed, from head to toe, I looked like a woman. Sure enough, with my realization that I am indeed a female now in looks Doreen comes walking into the salon, then I lower my head staring at the floor ahead of me. I am ashamed of my sudden femininity, in a few hours my male self has been obliterated completely, that doesn’t speak much about my masculine image before this, if it could be done away with so easily.

Doreen walks right up to me, lifts my chin and kisses me passionately. I stare into her eyes, trying to see what her intent is with me. I know I had made some demands on her asking her to take care of me, to love me, but that is before I have been changed into this total feminine being. How can she still love me, after seeing me being changed so easily into a gorgeous female? She had originally intended to marry a male, but he doesn’t exist anymore, maybe gone for a long, long time, from the looks of my new body.

She leads me to her car, getting the door for me, even helping me fasten my seat belt. She returns to the driver’s seat and drives us home. The trip is in silence, with me not knowing what to say to her. Do I try to act female to her, is that what she wants from me? Since I am so indecisive, I do nothing. She parks in the garage and comes to help me out of the car, then leads me into the apartment. I am led directly to the living room and sat down on the couch. She heads to the kitchen to get us something to drink, and returns sitting our drinks on the coffee table directly in front of us.

“I think you have come to the wrong conclusion today about everything. That is what happens when you think too much, worry about everything, and generally make a mess out of any situation. I want you to listen to me, with both ears. I am deeply in love with you; I want nothing else in life but to share my life with you till we die. Whether you are female or male in appearance makes no difference to me in my love for you.”

“How we enjoy that time together is up to us, I have always seen a side to you that is buried, never seeing the light of day. It is a part of you that I want to share some of my life with, a part that upon looking at you, has been repressed for far too long. I want no more negative feelings about the person I see sitting beside me, a beautiful woman that I love even more than your former male self. Her beauty brightens up this room, makes my heart race, and causes my body to tingle all over. This is you, it has always been you, but you never allowed it to come out and play. We are going to do that now, and for the rest of our lives.”

“I have found us a couple of houses to look at, both of them are what I picture you living in, making them our home. I will take care of you, treasure you, and make love to you until you kick me out the door.” She then leaned in and kissed me so deep that I felt my toes tingling when she allowed me to get a breath. The doorbell rang, she looked at me, then asked if I am going to answer it. I gave her a look but did make my way to the door. It is a pizza delivery boy, with two boxes for us. I turned to get some money from my purse, but Doreen is standing behind me, handing him the money and telling him to keep the change. Doreen took the pizzas to the kitchen while I went to the living room to retrieve our drinks.

We sat at the bar, nibbling at the pizza, and taking sips of our drinks. It felt good, being able to relax with her more than I usually managed to accomplish. I received frequent kisses, her hand not involved in eating rubbing my thigh, keeping me in constant turmoil. We only ate one of the pizza’s the other put in the refrigerator for snacking later on.

We made our way to the bedroom, a new nightie, presumably for me laying on my side of the bed. I made my way to the bathroom, taking the nightie with me, changed into it and sighed. It showed all of my new assets in all their glory, my nipples betraying my feelings before I even got back to the bedroom, the forms that shaped them almost faded away. I brushed my hair, my teeth, even removed my makeup trying everything I could to delay the inevitable. With my pert nipples leading the way I ventured back to the bedroom, Doreen waiting at the edge of the bed for my return. She is dressed similarly to me, her nipples as excited as mine.

It turned out to be a long night, I do wish I could remember what happened that night, but since my mind was closed down for repairs, I doubt that would be possible. Two days later we did look at the houses, the second one perfect as far as I was concerned. Since it was going to be my house to fix up, maintain, and care for, I was the one that got to choose. A month later we were moved in, she got me a mover to pack everything and get it to our new house. It took me several weeks to get it decorated the way I wanted it, my new teacher helping me make the correct decisions for colors and fabrics.

It took a little longer for me to master the cooking part, but soon Doreen was rushing home to experience what I had come up with for dinner every night. I learned the proper way to do household chores, even made a schedule to keep them evenly distributed during the week. A modern housewife has to have time for her beauty regime, mine consisted of two salon appointments every week. I loved the salon time, the gals at the salon now my friends.

My teacher Ms. Abernathy has been invaluable. It only took her a couple of visits to ascertain my skill level. Since I love to cook now, I can’t wait for the next class, eager to learn another recipe to make my lover eager to rush home to me. We even take time to go grocery shopping together.

Several of the gurls from the salon have become friends and we take a day or two a week to shop for feminine necessities and clothing.

Now after a visit to the sperm bank to make a withdrawal, I started my carefully planned attack to get Doreen pregnant. When we had started dating each other she had convinced me to make a deposit at the sperm bank, her reasoning long forgotten by now. She had even spent the time to have a couple of her eggs harvested for possible future use. If necessary and my other plan fails to get the desired results I have a backup plan already in place.

I have learned a lot from her, my plan will guarantee what I want. As she had laid out her plan for me a while back, I have mine setup, rewards and penalties in place, the end result is her with child, so that my last part in this scenario can be carried out.

June loving wife and caring mother will finally be realized. A wonderful life to look forward to, caring for my Doreen, her every need seen to by her wife and lover. The life of a female a dream come true for both of us.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca