Showing posts with label Pierced Ears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pierced Ears. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 26, 2024

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

Tuesday, June 25, 2024

Linda: A Male No Longer

 Linda: A Male No Longer

I just completed my fifth month on medications for prostate cancer. The doctors thought they got it soon enough that I would not need to have my prostrate removed. A month later I had some more x-rays at my regular doctor’s appointment, the results were not encouraging. The x-rays showed further invasion of the cancer, so the doctor scheduled me for surgery. He was truthful, the prostate would be removed, along with any other organs that the cancer had spread to. Not a hopeful diagnosis.

I checked into the hospital the next morning and was operated on just after 9 A.M. I don’t remember anything until I was taken back to my room later in the day. I had no relatives locally so there was no one to visit me besides my girlfriend. She had tried to get a day off, but they had a big meeting scheduled of which she was an integral part, so she went in. I am sure she would rather be with me, but she was a manager in her company, so was looked up to do what is right. Due to the meeting it would be late today before she could visit. The doctor came in about an hour after I got back to my room to check on me. He had a serious look on his face, so I feared the worse. He checked my vitals, then looked at the incision he had made to do the operation.

He sat down by me and held my hand.

“I had to remove the prostate, then checked to see if the cancer had spread. Your testicles were consumed with it so I had to remove them plus some of you scrotum, making sure that I got all of the malignant tissue.”

I tried to move my hand down there, but he held my hand firmly. My other arm had the I.V. in it so it was strapped to the side of the bed.

“I know this is disturbing, but there was nothing else we could do. Your penis might still function, but there will be no ejaculate and of course you are now sterile, unable to father any children.”

I started sobbing, a nurse came into the room to add a sedative to the IV and I was soon asleep. I woke later that night to see my girlfriend Stacy sitting on the chair in the room. She saw me awake and came over and hugged me. I felt so inadequate, I knew I would lose her, no longer a male and unable to be a husband to her. I started to explain, but she shushed me, “I am not leaving you, we will have to make some other plans, but we will still be together, love can and will conquer all.” I tried many times to broach the subject with her, but she was adamant about not talking about it. She stayed with me until eleven, but had to go since she had to work again tomorrow.

It was a week before I was released, the doctor had tried a testosterone shot to make up for the lack of hormones my body would make. Ten minutes after the shot I was in convulsions on the bed. I woke up in the emergency room, with several doctors working on me. They had to give me a large estrogen shot to offset the testosterone injection, but once that was in my bloodstream I started to come around. In between passing out they had told me I am apparently testosterone intolerant. My body reacting violently to the shot of the hormone. According to the doctors my testicles must not have been producing any testosterone, since my body couldn’t handle it. That in of itself might explain some of my physical characteristics.

It was two days later before I left the ICU, feeling worse than when I went into the hospital for the prostate surgery. Every time I was awake enough to recognize faces Stacy was there with a smile for me and my hand held in hers. The hospital stay lasted for another week, before the doctor told me I could go home. They did another blood test before I was released, my estrogen levels elevated even more.

My doctor had me go to a specialist two days later, again another sample, again the same result. I was examined by her, then after getting dressed she called me into her private office. We talked for a while, with me describing my life, my occupation, and my concerns for the future. She was blunt, you have some decisions to make and soon, the elevated estrogen levels will be making your body more feminine. The large dose they gave you in ICU has worn off now, but your body is still producing excessive amounts of estrogen somewhere. I have no clue where the estrogen is originating from, I want to run a bunch more tests to try and discover its source.

If we can’t find the source, I am afraid you will start showing some more enhancement in your female secondary sex characteristics. Since your body is testosterone intolerant we have no way to control the estrogen amounts or stop the hormone production. I want you to take some time and think this over, if we can’t find the source you may start looking like a female very quickly. Since you are relatively young the hormone will have more effect on you than if you were older. If that happens portraying a male might become very difficult for you, if not impossible in the future.

My next appointment with the specialist is in ten days, the blood test results the same. One test that she had run last time hinted at where the estrogen was coming from. The next day I was scheduled for a MRI, the doctor talking to me about the results right after the scan. I had two ovary like organs, just like a regular female, but nothing else of the female reproductive system. They were the culprits, somehow stimulated into action, possibly after the removal of my testicles, but from the levels of estrogen in my body, they have apparently been at work for quite some time.

I immediately asked about removing them but she advised that I leave them there. Without any hormones, your body cells have nothing telling them what to do, when to repair the cells, in other words your body closes up shop and quits. If you weren’t testosterone intolerant we could keep the estrogen levels minimal, also managing to keep any more enhancement to your secondary sex characteristics from forming.

So if we take out the ovaries you still have to have some type of hormone that would have to be supplemented somehow. Estrogen therapy is adequate at best because we are guessing at what amount to add. The ovaries will moderate there production naturally, unfortunately that is after they have developed your body to that of a female looks wise. I know this is hard to understand and accept, but please take a few weeks and talk it over with someone close before you make any decisions.

Stacy and I talked about it a lot, I was still leaning towards the surgery to remove the ovaries, damn the consequences. Finally Stacy put her foot down. If you persist in doing this she wanted nothing more to do with me. “I would rather have a live and healthy spouse with boobs, etc. then a male that might drop dead at any time. Think this over carefully, I love and care for you a lot, but I will not be a party to your demise. Tomorrow I will meet you after work and I want your decision, then I will decide if I am to still be a part of your life. I am not bluffing, my way or there is no more relationship.” At that she turned and left, no hug, no kiss, no nothing.

I presume I have stepped over the line, now I have to figure out if I can live as a female. I never did decide, much too big of a decision to make on my own. I can see Stacy’s viewpoint, but for me the stakes are much higher. Twenty-five years old, all of those years spent as a male. Now my whole world is turned upside down, the life of a female or a game of Russian roulette.

When Stacy showed up the next day she had a stern look on her face. The look made up my mind, I would go the female route. I told her this, but made sure she understood that I didn’t have a clue about any of this, so I needed her help. I saw a smile, I received a kiss, and then we cuddled for a couple of hours.

Stacy and cuddling were inseparable. After the first time she did it with me, I began to appreciate the practice. No sex innuendos involved, just two people sharing their life with each other, low key, but filled with love.

Unknown to me, Stacy had arranged some time off from work. On a Monday morning she showed up a little past eight A.M. dragging me out of bed. I was rudely shoved in the shower, threatened with a spanking if I didn’t do a good job of cleaning myself, then made to slip on a set of sweats, then rushed off to a destination unknown. When we pulled into the salon parking lot, I looked at her with sheer panic on my face. I started stuttering, you wouldn’t, you can’t, please Stacy this is not right. In the end I was standing at the front of the salon, Stacy telling the receptionist that I had an appointment.

Then when she turned to leave, I got a kiss, then a few words whispered to my ear. “You will be here all day, there is no way out of this, I have your apartment keys, your car keys and your wallet. So put up with it, be good and I will pick you up later when they have finished with you. If I hear one complaint from the ladies working on you I will strip you naked in the middle of the salon and paddle your fanny till it is bright red. That is not a threat, I have been wanting to do it anyway, so go ahead and give me a reason to do it. I had no doubt she would, but a smile did light up my face, I wonder what getting a spanking from Stacy would be like. I did get a funny look from her, followed up by some giggling as she left the salon. From her smirky look I may not get the spanking in the salon, but I am sure she will find another time to administer it.

I was made hair free, a cream rubbed in all over and then wiped off thirty minutes later, my sparse body hair with it. Then hair shampooed and conditioned, followed up with a styling. Not much cut off, but a cute set of bangs came with the cut. Then a bunch of small curlers, wound tight with a thin piece of paper wrapped around the hair before being wound on the curler. When she saturated the curls with a foul smelling liquid I realized I was getting a permanent. I set for a while pondering my fate, repercussions from this bound to last a while. But then fate had dealt me a bad hand already, so whether I suffer now or later not much difference to the overall outcome.

The permanent is neutralized, something that somehow stuck in my mind when Mom and Sis gave each other permanents. Back then salons were not as prevalent, and permanents fairly expensive. My hair is then set on rollers, the look of me in curlers with three different color rollers in my hair quite comical. Then I imagined myself later, having to do this or similar regularly to keep up my appearance. My appearance as a female that is going to take some getting used to.

Under a dryer for the hair to dry, keeping the hair curly when released from the curlers. With the permanent I am sure they will last longer than I wanted. When the timer went off back to the styling chair and the curlers removed, the hair did remain curly almost like a spring stretching out then back into the tight curl. She kept brushing out the curls, finally managing a curly yet feminine style, the bangs curling over my forehead and accenting my eyes even more.

I was focusing on my curly hair, but Penny, my stylist, was discretely marking my ears for earrings. By the time I figured out what she was doing I sported two sets of holes, lasered in so there would never be a problem with them growing closed. A pair of hoops and a set of studs, both in gold were inserted, pretty much guaranteeing a feminine gender look.

Then she moved to my eyebrows, twenty minutes and they no longer looked masculine, there high arch and thinness quite feminine. She applied a light makeup, drawing in the brows a little, then mascara, followed up with some lipstick. The rose pink lipstick looked so good with my coloring. Yeah right, three hours in the beauty salon and I am wallowing in being gender female.

I had to wait up front for Stacy to show up, looking in the many mirrors of the salon, not a hint of me being masculine showed up. Even my taller height, five foot ten inches, did not seem to matter anymore. I had no breasts yet, the image in the mirror kind of straight up and down, but female never the less.

I wondered if I wanted to work out some at the gym, if any changes in my body would make me appear manly. I doubt it, the female hormones being circulated in my body now, making sure that will never happen.

I was ashamed when Stacy came to get me, I couldn’t even look her in the face. The doctor had removed my maleness, but the salon had given me femininity, a much harder pill to swallow. Just losing my testicles was not apparent to people who looked at me, but curly hair, arched eyebrows, and pierced ears did show, anybody looking at me seeing the female that emerged. She paid the bill and dragged me to her car.

The trip back home is in silence, me not knowing what to say, my humiliation at looking so girly, forcing me to withdraw. She dropped me off at my apartment, gave me my house keys and told me she would be right back. I resigned myself to do as she wanted, she still had my car keys and my wallet, leaving me at somewhat of a disadvantage. I plopped myself in the recliner in the living room, trying to figure out what brought on her action today, did she want me as a female now, or is there some other reason.

Twenty minutes later she returned bringing some food to eat. I had to be dragged to the kitchen, I really wasn’t hungry, but she insisted. I played with the food on my plate, mainly just pushing it from one side to the other. During this time she had tried to engage me in conversation, but I only responded in one word answers if at all.

Finally she had enough, I was yanked out of the chair and hauled to the living room. She set on the couch and pulled me down on her lap. Taking both of her hands she held my face where I had to look her in the face. “Now are you going to snap out of this or do I need to persuade you? I need an answer right now, you have moped around, whined at your bad luck, everything instead of facing your situation and doing something about it.”

I said nothing, I know I have been depressed, but there is nothing to be done about things. I feel myself being pulled over, laying on my stomach on her lap. When she yanks down my pants and shorts, I try to stop her, but she has the leverage keeping her one hand in the middle of my back. The swat I felt next shocked me, she is spanking me, a grown man and I am being spanked like a little kid.

I yelled out, she can swing hard, each impact of her hand felt deep inside my flabby butt. I pleaded with her, I tried to move my hand back to my butt to protect myself, only to have her slap my hands away with enough force to make them tingle. This is the first time I have seen Stacy this upset at me. The tears were running down my cheeks in a torrent, my words falling on deft ears. “I will be good, please Stacy stop, please stop.

She eased up for a minute, then asked if I was going to be a good girl and face my problem or did I need some more motivation. I choked up, trying to get all my words out before she started again. “Yes I will be a good girl, dress however you want and be feminine if only you will not spank me anymore.” Then shocked when she handed me a pen and paper and told me to write it down, all of it.

I want you to admit you are a female now, to wear dresses, to wear lingerie, jewelry, makeup, everything a female does. I want you to admit that you love being a woman now, and to be my lesbian lover. I want it all on paper, dated today and what you deserve if you welsh on this as punishment. I reluctantly did as she asked, the mere act of writing it down made it sink in to my disturbed mind, more than if I had just said the words.

She looked it over a couple of times than handed it back to me. “Nope not all here, you have to admit that you are a female now, the male part long gone. For this to work you have to embrace all of what being a female means, not just part of it. If you continued as a male you be just a part male, so to have a decent life filled with friends and romantic partners you need to be female, clothes, makeup, jewelry and most important attitude.

Then you will be able to start living again. This time as a female, whole and complete. Much better than your life before. After numerous corrections to my pledge she finally accepted my written words, folded up the paper and placed it next to her bosom. “There in case I need to remind you of your commitment.”

At that point she stopped talking, took me in her arms and kissed me passionately. I melted in her arms, the spanking had forced some of my concerns to be forgotten, and the kiss had awakened new emotions in me, ones that felt so good. We set there for quite some time, with me laying on her shoulder, her hands holding mine securely and lovingly. She led me off to bed, undressed me and laid me on the bed. I had to twist a little, my butt still quite sore from her spanking. She undressed herself down to panties and bra, then laid next to me. We fell asleep later, in each other’s arms, sleeping soundly until early morning.

I awoke to sweet smells drifting from the kitchen. I used the bathroom, then found a robe at the end of my bed to put on over my nightie, something that Stacy insisted I wear last night. It felt good next to my body, the silky material caressing my skin. When I put the robe on, little chills spread over my body. The robe had caused the nightie to slide over my skin, the warmth and the silky feeling making me feel good. I walked into the kitchen, Stacy looking at me to see if I was going to be a problem. She saw the robe and figured I had made the first concession to my new female gender.

We ate for a while, just nibbling, taking our time to eat her offerings. She asked what I wanted to do today, I shrugged my shoulders, not really having anything special I wanted to do. Then I thought of my new looks, any venturing out will have to be as a female, that changing a lot of things. Stacy could see where I was getting uptight again, her slapping her thigh a warning of what might happen if I didn’t calm down and now.

“Whatever you would like to do is fine with me, I have no desires or wishes. Please remember that this is all new to me, allow me some time to get used to being seen as a female before you immerse me in everything feminine. I will try and comply with your wishes, and as swiftly as possible. I am just so thankful that somehow you are still in my life, I don’t know who to thank for this heavenly gift, but they deserve my deepest and sincerest thanks.”

We finished what she had prepared for breakfast, some fruit and orange juice, then cleaned up. Since she had fixed the meal I tried to do all the clean-up, feeling that it is only right for me to participate since I am now a female in the relationship. Stacy observed, often I would catch a smile on her face, but didn’t do anything unless I needed to know how something was to be done. I never was much for cleaning up, my idea of a good meal was takeout, and cleanup was putting all the containers in the garbage.

The sink this morning contained a lot of glasses, used once then placed in the sink until there was none left on the shelf. Then something had to be done or swear off drinking water.

One time I even purchased a case of bottled water, figuring that would save a lot of washing and putting away. It was a bad idea, the bottled water did not taste that good, the remaining few bottles made the garbage unopened.

I eventually got all the dishes washed, dried and put up where they belong, something that had not happened in weeks.

Back to the bedroom, she had some clothes laid out for me, my eyes focused on the dress that was right in the middle of the bed. Surely I could start out with something a little less feminine, the dress very cute, as Stacy would say. I am not sure what the name of it would be, pink in color with a full skirt, although way too short in my opinion. The top seemed not big enough for me maybe that would be the way that I would be spared wearing it, if it did not fit. At least, I could hope that would be the case.

My eyes had not left the dress since I entered the bedroom, but the lingerie next to it was what I had to put on first. The bra was the first thing she handed me, not sure exactly how I should grab it, I took it from her with two fingers, the bra dangling from my fingers. Stacy laughed, then stepped in to help. My nightie is removed leaving me naked except for the panties I had to wear with the nightie. Those also were quickly gone. Stacy faced me looking me right in the eyes. As she cupped my breasts she went into teacher mode.

“These are your breasts, I do mean yours. To feel comfortable during the day they need some support. This is a bra, your bra that supports your breasts. Are you keeping up so far? You lean forward letting you breasts settle in the cups, after putting your arms through the straps. Then taking the two ends of the band to the back you hook them together. You straighten up, adjust the bra comfortably, lifting and settling your breasts in the cups to be sure they are not pinched.”

I indeed have a small bosom, probably as a result of my fouled up hormones. I would later learn that I had an A cup, filling the cups of the bra she has fastened around me adequately. It felt funny with the band around my chest, but also comforting in a way. The panties were next, the chills that went through my body as the panties slid up my legs were not asked for, but somehow enlightening. I would indeed be wearing things like this for the rest of my life. The dress followed, I stepped into it, put my arms in the sleeves and allowed Stacy to zip the dress up. As it tightened around my chest, I looked in the mirror. The hope that the dress would not fit me to keep from wearing it vanished, it fit perfectly reinforcing the feminine looks. Gone was the masculine image that I had known for twenty-five years, in its place an attractive female now occupied that image.

I had not noticed the heels on the side of the bed, too concerned about the dress and lingerie. They looked intimidating, not much to them except for the five inch heel height. I looked at Stacy, pleading with my eyes for something different and less feminine. No luck, she was enjoying this too much to give in now. She rolled stockings up my legs, the bands at the top holding them there on my thighs. Then the heels were slipped on my feet and the straps buckled securely. She reached for my hand to help me up, the sudden change in altitude almost toppling me over. When I stabilized a little she let go and walked away. She turned and held out her arms waiting for me to walk into their loving embrace. I did, the first steps in heels really not that bad.

We hung around the apartment all day, did a little laundry and made a list for the grocery store. After we scrambled some eggs for dinner I was dragged out to her car and I made my first venture as a female into the grocery store. Surprisingly it was no big deal, no one made any comments and I paid with my debit card. I talked with the cashier and the bag boy, they reacted to me as if I was a woman out shopping for groceries.

Then the next day Stacy made me tackle the elephant in the room, my job. Again dressed in a too brief dress, my hair piled on top of my head with a few ribbons to make it more feminine. Lipstick and mascara with some blusher on my cheeks we headed to my work place. She made me do everything myself, but was right behind me for moral support. My old boss took one look at me and sent me to personnel, something I was expecting. I had to wait a few minutes before I could see the head of personnel, all the possible scenarios running through my brain.

Mandy came out to get us, and we went into her office. I was offered a seat on a love seat in a casual setting, Stacy sitting right next to me and Mandy in a side chair directly opposite. She wanted me to tell her everything about my medical condition and what my prognosis was now that treatment had been concluded. I showed her copies of all my medical records, she looked them over and then handed them back to me. She went and pulled my personnel file and looked at it, where I had been assigned before and what jobs I had experienced.

She made a couple of phone calls to department heads, finally inviting one of them to her office. “I have a position in mind for you, but since you have no experience in this field, I want to assign you there for a few days to see how you adapt and fit in. We may have to try yet another possible job, but rest assured you will still be working for us, unless you willingly quit. Now I need a new name for you, Lance is so inadequate.

I hesitated but Stacy spoke first. Lets use Linda, a feminine name for a feminine lady. I nodded my head, as Mandy changed my file.

I was sent with the department head down to where I will be working, given a badge and told of what hours I will work and the dress code for this part of the company. I was not informed though of what I would be doing. I guess the fact that I would still have a job kind of overshadowed everything else. I then returned to personnel to pick up Stacy and we headed home after hugs were exchanged all around.

I actually pinched myself, to see if I was dreaming. Although I was extremely grateful, what happened today was never considered as a possibility earlier when we entered Mandy’s office. It was like I was a treasured employee, deserving of better than average treatment. Certainly before today I never had that feeling working here.

Another day and I was up early getting ready for work. Stacy was there to supervise but made me do everything myself. She dropped me off at work, telling me she will pick me up at five. I did have a purse, a few dollars for lunch in my new feminine wallet, but no keys and not enough money for a cab fare home. I was shown my new job, very similar to what I had been doing before but a couple of notches up the chain of employment. By lunch I was comfortable doing the tasks, not noticing how fast the morning went. A couple of the female employees in this department invited me to lunch, nothing fancy just some salads at the diner down the street.

It turns out that most of the employees knew of my medical situation, and had no trouble with me working as a female. Two or three sentences about my medical situation and all the rest of the time was spent on my looks and the clothing I wore for today. Both of the ladies wanted the name of the salon I used, promising to make appointments as soon as possible. The fact that I looked more like a female than they did required some correction on their part.

I ended up staying in that department, now six months later I am the department head. The six females working under my direction are all friends; lunch, a night out every once in a while and random shopping trips are common for us in a typical month.

Stacy and I ended up moving in together, according to her I needed someone to keep an eye on me and she appointed herself to be the one. I think it was more her insatiable desire to cuddle, kiss and ravish me all the time, but whatever the reason I was thrilled to be a part of it.

A year later after I was pronounced cancer free on my annual checkup, we slipped off to Vegas and got hitched. She has progressed in her job beyond all expectations now making twice what I earn. I have been told I have to find us a house, something cozy and romantic. That I am eagerly looking forward to.

Life has not been kind to me, but thanks to Stacy I have made adjustments, the life I have now full of love and hope. I have indeed lived with what Life has dealt me. No longer a male, life as a female now.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

Maggie; A Little More Cleavage

 Maggie; A Little More Cleavage

It was a mid afternoon appointment, two-thirty for a body waxing and the addition of breasts. Mary, the stylist at Turnabout Gurl Salon had everything set up for me. All I had to do is show-up and the deed would be done. Since Mary is a friend of Melody’s, I had been squeezed in, a dinner date for me with my wife at our favorite restaurant the reason for the appointment. One that I couldn’t miss, I needed to apologize and try to reason with Melody for a stupid statement made without using any part of my limited intellect. The fact that the statement should have never seen the light of day seemed irrelevant now, the irrational statement voiced and her reaction to it implemented.

With the first rip of the cloth I was in agony, the warm wax felt good, but when the cloth had been pushed into it and then ripped off I was ready to leave the table I was on. “OMG what are you doing to me.” Her no words answer, is a towel pushed into my mouth to quiet my protests.

The waxing hurt, every last hair ripped from its follicle quickly, but not necessarily painlessly. The cloth strips were pushed into the hot wax, then jerked off in rapid succession. I never got a chance to even get a breath before the next cloth was ripped away. The cream rubbed into the skin after the process is completed, helped, but did not alleviate the tingles and pain the process created. After a few moments I did get a chance to rub the smooth creamy skin, the feelings that radiated through my body made me pause and wonder what it would be like to have smooth hair free skin all the time.

“That feels so good, you can keep doing that to me all day if you want. The cream that is, not the waxing.”

“Yeah, I could but if you want breasts before tonight I need to get started.” Quipped Mary.

I really didn’t want breasts, the stupid remark again and Melody’s reply the reason I am getting waxed and a pair of breasts added to my chest. I am relatively happy with my life as a male, up until my remark Melody and I got along pretty good. There have been arguments, but we always managed to solve them to our mutual satisfaction, until now. This time I think I have pushed her too hard, the reaction from Melody not what I had expected to say the least.

We have been married for three years now, again mainly due to the persistence of Melody, I had dated her in college, but never followed through. Back then I was basically unsure of myself in everything I did, whether it was a decision on something pertaining to college or something simple like asking her for another date. When in doubt, do nothing had been my motto, so any romancing between us was all due to Melody. Melody did step up to the plate, thankfully, inviting me out to dinner or a show. I was aware I should be doing these things myself, but in real life those actions never materialized. After many quite pleasant dates she cornered me in the restaurant that we ate at one night, wanting to know when I was going to develop a backbone and ask her to marry me. Just like before I stumbled, words were muttered but none of them made any sense.

She got pissed, pulled a ladies engagement ring out of her purse and slid in on my finger. I stared at the ring and swallowed hard. With some giggling she whispered in my ear to say yes. I did get out the word, now she was outright laughing at my facial expression. She did comment that if I kept this up, I might be the one walking down the aisle in the wedding dress, in fact you would probably look prettier in it than me. I tried to remove the ring, some sanity returning to my poor overworked mind, hoping to get the ring off and slide it on to her finger. I did get down on one knee asking her to marry me, she replied yes and then kissed me. Unfortunately the ring would not come off, so she paid the check, dragged me to the car and made sure I was handled as you would handle a prospective bride on the ride to her apartment. A few hours later, wonderful sexy hours, I managed a retreat to my own home. When I did eventually get home, my nipples were sore, I had lipstick all over my face from her kissing and junior was totally pooped. It was a night to remember, that is for sure. Her engagement ring was still on my finger, refusing to budge from it.

Even though I was basically unsure of myself in my dealings with life, I did manage a decent grade point average during college, graduated and was soon working for a company in town. Not upper level management, but also not an hourly worker. I was proud of the fact I was male, just four inches under six feet tall and fairly skinny, weighing a little over a hundred and forty pounds.

While Melody had only her Mother as family, I still had both Mom and Dad. Melody and her Mother were close, while I saw very little of my family, Dad being the main reason for a standoffish relationship. He had been disappointed in me, I was not the athlete he desired me to be. His son Barry, that's me, not following in his footsteps forever causing a breech in our relationship. I saw Mom often, but Dad was always busy or had to go somewhere when I arrived. Maybe that lack of something between us caused some of my unsure behavior, a guess on my part, but nothing more.

Back to the present the requirement that I have breasts, however, is a different matter completely. The machine for sucking a pair of breasts out of the body is intimidating, a cup or form, way too large in my opinion, hooked to hoses hanging from the overhead arm positioned above my body ready for their victim. All of this attached to a vacuum pump intent on making mountains out of molehills. According to Mary I had to state that I wanted the procedure, plus sign a release, a must for the salon to avoid problems later. I didn’t think about it that much, I just wanted the relationship between Melody and myself back to where it was a couple of days ago. That desire clouded my thoughts, what I ended up with much more than I bargained for. Mary had offered several choices, but my mind was not on what she said, just give me some breasts so that I can get back into Melody’s good graces.

When the stupid remark first left my mouth I tried to apologize, but Melody was insistent that I show her the error of her ways. The sooner I get this done the sooner that I might enjoy the benefits of her loving and caressing again.

I did sign the forms required, Mary giving me a copy for my records. The cups are lowered to my chest and a paste is applied around the edges sealing them to my chest. The pump is turned on and the tissue starts filling the cups. Mary did inject some fatty tissue into the cups before the pump started. It is a slow process taking four to five hours for the cup to fill. My eyesight is limited some, the size of the suction forms blocking some of the view of my lower extremities. I could feel them though, as my skin was pulled into the cups.

Way too many hours later the hoses were unhooked and the machine rolled away to its place in the corner. The pulsating of the pump had made me drowsy, I felt Mary working on my body during this time period but I was basically out of it. With the pump off I laid there staring at the ceiling wondering how long it would take for my new breasts to go down to a manageable size. Something that I might conceal under a baggy sweater or a sweatshirt.

After waiting for an hour, Mary reappeared with a bra and some clothes in her hands. She laid them on a counter and approached my new amendments. She touched the cups, they seem to be less rigid now than when this started. She announced the forms would stay on, dissolving over the next two to three days. They were already bouncing around, the slightest body movement causing some jiggling activity with my new appendages. In her hands she had two syringes, to stabilize the new breast tissue, and quickly injected one each into the appropriate breasts right through the nipple. I felt the syringe enter the nipple, but there was no overt pain involved.

A concern did materialize as to how I would be able to maintain a male image at work next week. Probably should have thought of that sooner, but a lot of things should have happened that didn’t including the control of my mouth. My overwhelming desire to smooth out things with Melody prevented me thinking matters through, now I was sure to face many more problems before this was over.

Mary grabbed a bra and helped me position it over my breasts, a new and unknown feeling radiating through my breasts and chest. It took me several times to fasten the thing correctly. Mary making suggestions, but otherwise leaving it up to me. The feeling of the material in the cups of the bra caressing my new tissue hard to ignore. Thankfully the bra did stop some of the jiggling activity, allowing my mind to concentrate on how in the hell did I get myself into this predicament. Even though some of the cup remained, I could feel the movement and touch of the bra. With the bra holding my new breasts securely, a blouse is handed to me.

I simple pullover design with a plunging neckline, my stupid remark getting its first lesson in what it feels like to experience a plunging neckline. The smaller cups of the bra barely holding my breasts in their confines. I feared they would fall out of their support at any moment. Looking down at my cleavage it seemed that all of my assets were on display, the gap between the two pieces of fabric of the blouse seemed to be immense. With the minimal material connecting the two cups on the bra there is nothing hiding the vast expanse between the two cups, the deep cleavage between the two orbs very noticeable, especially to me.

Mary took a couple of minutes to brush my hair till it fell around my shoulders, not in its usual ponytail. It felt good as it brushed my shoulders and settled around my face and ears. Letting my hair grow to its present shoulder length, helping in my presentation as a feminine individual. A presentation that I was not thrilled about or desired.

The light burgundy color of the blouse and the silky fabric barely covered the outline of the bra. I was indeed covered, but it seems that what I am wearing would be no secret from anyone looking at me. With the blouse settled on my body, the Docker’s pants I had worn to the salon became the piece of clothing that looked out of place.

Mary suggested the capris that she had brought me might be a better choice. The tan color looked better than the yellow Dockers, with the burgundy trim on the cuffs of the capris matching the blouse perfectly. Now the waxing seemed prudent, the hair below the capris would have been a no-no in fashion circles. To be able to wear the capris something had to be done with my male shorts. A light pink pair of panties found their way into my hand, and eventually on my body. As they settled in place on my hips I noticed how closely they fit between my legs. I closed my eyes and sighed, the feeling almost too much. I wonder how Melody handles all of these sensations affecting her body. There was no thoughts about the smooth groin that was now on display, it was kind of numb down there, maybe the waxing and cream had affected the area.

Of course, you change the pants you have to make adjustments to the footwear. The clunky athletic shoes not blending in well, their black color all the more revolting. The best Mary could do is a pair of tan heels, blending with my outfit perfectly, but not the best for walking in. The three-inch height of the heel adding to my statuesque looking body, but it also caused some stability problems. Several trips around the salon, and I could manage to walk unaided, although shorter strides and walking more in a line made it manageable not easier. I did notice I had developed a sway to my rear as I walked around, something that was not there before. It seemed easier to walk now, my thighs easily rubbing against each other. Still no connection to a difference that was not noticed at all yet by my feeble mind.

She handed me a purse that matched the heels, I refused till I found that the capris had no pockets to use. My wallet and keys deposited therein and I am ready to go. I did pay Mary for her work, and tipped her for bearing with me. I did get a smirk from her, as I was settling up, maybe my desire to please Melody was funny to her. The image in the mirror at the front of the salon showed that the male idiot that had mouthed those words got his just desserts. I just hope Melody is happy with the replacement.

Since Melody is picking me up here, I sat down in one of the love seats at the front of the salon to await her arrival. As I sat I crossed my legs at the knees, similar to what Melody does all the time. It was comfortable sitting that way. My mind kept going back to the discussion that started all of this. I have been encouraging Melody to wear a little more revealing clothing. She is a beautiful woman, confident in her appearance and her actions.

The stupid part came about when I am trying to convince her of the need for her to be more daring in her dress.

“If I had such a gorgeous pair of breasts I would always be wanting to show them off, to entice my lover to fondle them and to make other women jealous.” Sadly these were my words on that fateful day. A male who is so unsure of himself that he can’t even propose to his fiance, but yet open his mouth and stick both feet firmly inside.

“Well let’s get you a pair and you can show me how it’s done.” The biggest smile appeared on Melody’s face, as I sweated a response that wouldn’t make things worse than they were. An hour later the call is made to Mary and my appointment is made. That response never came, silence the better part of valor in this case. I didn’t expect Melody to go through with the appointment for me, I thought she was just bluffing.

My thoughts are back to now as Melody enters the salon. She takes in my appearance and attacks me. Her kisses, groping hands and a tongue that is clearing my throat make her reaction to me pleasant. Yeah, all I have to do now is get my heart back beating and refill my lungs with air. Normalcy returns somewhat, she uses a tissue to remove her lipstick from my face then hands me my lipstick so that I can fix my lips before going to dinner.

As I slide a coat of color on my lips, I had forgotten what I originally came into the salon for. Yes, I came into the salon for something else, I just can’t remember what it was. I am led to her car and seated in the passenger side. The ride to the restaurant is brief, the walk from the parking lot still a little unsteady, but Melody has her hand on my lower back to help guide me and support me. We are quickly seated, a corner booth private and dimly lit. She orders for me, a white wine and vegetarian lasagna, my usual order. She also gets a white wine, and her usual calzone with pepperoni and provolone cheese. I sit there staring at her and trying not to breathe much. Every breath causing my breasts to move up and down distracting the hell out of me.

She slips a little closer to me, ending up with her hand on my thigh. She moves it back and forth slowly. Her caresses did cover the groin area, a raising of her eyebrows when she runs her hand over my smooth front. The sensation of the silky material over my hairless skin almost too much for me.

“Please stop, I see the error of my ways, I am wrong in what I foolishly stated yesterday, please stop or I am going to make a fool out of myself right here in the restaurant.” She removes her hand, smiles and asks if I want to be screwed tonight. That statement and her hand brushing over my nipples sent me over the top and I climaxed right there in the booth. Luckily I managed to keep my mouth closed so the low moan that emerged was not able to be heard by all. She giggled and asked if I needed her help in cleaning up my little mess. I nodded my head and she pulled me out of the booth and we headed for the ladies room.

It was a sticky gooey mess, I don’t remember cumming that much before, the amount in my panties and all over my groin quite a record for me. My mind suddenly sprang into action, my penis is gone, now nothing but a slit framed by two lips. The cum still oozing out of my slit. I wavered a little, then Melody saw what was missing, her giggling was infectious but also embarrassing. She told me we had to talk once we got home, there are things that need explaining. Apparently I also need to get you some tampons to carry in your purse from now on.

With my face still a deep red it took more than several paper towels to clean up the mess. Melody did show me a couple of tricks in how to remove the stickiness, mainly warm water with the panties off then wrapped in a towel to soak up some of the moisture. When they went back on they were still wet, but at least not sticky. She gave me one of her sanitary pads to wear to soak up any more leakage, but the resulting red from the embarrassment probably more telling than the wet panties would have been.

We finished dinner in a relative normal manner, at least, she managed to keep her hands to herself. I ate a little of my entree, but it was not from a lack of hunger but nervousness. We split a decadent chocolate cake/mousse concoction that probably added five pounds to our figures. She paid the check then steered me to her car. I got myself situated in the passenger seat then she headed away from our house towards the foothills. I let out a big sigh, apparently lots more to come of this evening before we head home.

She pulled into a state park with a view of the valley we lived in. The stars were out, the evening temperature in the seventies, a very pleasant evening. She slid over next to me, laying my head on her shoulder. That felt so good, a soft place to lay and try to forget the mess that I am in. “You did show me what I have been missing being so uptight and conservative. When I first saw you at the salon I wanted to do you right there on the love seat. It took tremendous self-control for me to let that chance slide by. You made your point, about the clothing, I will try and wear more provocative clothing for you.”

“Now I think you need to tell me what you had done at the salon. I had arranged with Mary for you to be waxed and then some breast forms applied to your chest. She did tell me that she was going to kid you about making it more permanent, but we both knew that you wouldn’t go for it. What I am feeling when I hug you is not breast forms, the movement of them when you walk and breathe deeply more like real breasts. So an explanation is in order. While you are at it, you might tell me what happened to your male organ. That slit and two cute lips not very masculine dear. I am not complaining though, I am sure we can take advantage of what is now available.”

I am almost in tears, so wrapped up in making things right with Melody, I apparently missed half of the conversation today at the salon. Melody had made it simple and temporary, I had signed my male life away, at least for quite some time. I recounted what I remembered from our discussions at the salon, Melody giggling first, then outright laughter. I had done it to myself, all by myself with no help from anyone else. No one to blame or accuse of dirty tricks, just me.

“Will my stupidity cause any change in our relationship? I know you married a male, now I have larger assets then you, please say you still love me and will not throw me out for this act of stupidity.”

She was quiet for some time, rubbing my new breasts, causing me a lot of discomfort. Her other hand rubbing my new vagina through the capris. Believe me my male apparatus under the vagina needed no more stimulation. Since some of the feeling had returned I knew I still had one, just tucked away for the moment. I twisted and turned trying to keep from creaming my panties again. I cleared my throat finally getting her attention.

“I might be persuaded to put up with you, I will have to have my breasts enlarged, can’t have my hubby’s larger than mine. Then there is the problem with sharing clothes with you, you will no doubt want to wear my sexier outfits so we will have to buy more clothes. With more clothes we will have to have more lingerie, shoes, makeup, cosmetics, and accessories. Two salon appointments every week, my SO will always have to be pretty and beautiful for her spouse. There is one advantage though, now that you are female you can help with the housework, cooking and laundry.”

She leaned in close to me, taking my head in both of her hands and tilting it back a little, her lips meeting mine and her tongue slipping in between my lips. It felt like she was going to push her tongue all the way down my throat. I was breathing through my nose but still having a hard time getting sufficient air to breathe in my lungs.

I closed my eyes, the feelings saturating my mind with endorphins. She moved her lips from my lips to my ears and I did cream my panties again. She was giggling as I was beet red from embarrassment. I better take you home before the cum dries, otherwise we may never get you out of your lingerie. I set low in the seat, humiliated to the extreme, her formerly male husband with real breasts, coming twice just from external stimulation of my ears and body.

When we got home I was helped into the house, taken directly to our bedroom and stood by the side of the bed. She undressed me removing each garment and laying it on the bed. I tried to help but my hands were swatted and placed by my side. I was almost in tears, I had fouled up everything now I couldn’t even act like a male, every touch causing me to react more like a female, my male seed oozing out of my vagina all over my lingerie.

Real breasts, a vagina, lingerie, female clothes, the list goes on and on. Her former husband more of a female than his wife. At least in our loving she could control herself somewhat, not coming at the slightest provocation.

She laid me on the bed, retrieved a wet warm towel and cleaned me up both front and back. Junior was loving every minute of it, straining hard under his cover to show his enthusiasm. Unfortunately he was securely glued in place, he could get excited but swelling up to his former size was not happening, not for quite some time.

My nipples were red and raw by the time she stopped playing, I was moaning and squirming all over the bed. I pleaded with her to do something, anything to make me come. Instead she switched to the other breast and played with it for a while. I was crying pleading with her to finish me off, but instead she would kiss me on the lips, lick my face or ears and then go back to my breasts. My eyes were closed trying to ignore some of the feelings that were attacking my mind, then I felt her breath on my new female appliance. Oh gawd no, I wiggled viciously trying to escape her clutches. She looked up often, smiling as her fingers stroked my new sex. In between times she would tenderly kiss the two lips surrounding my moist slit, then blow her breath down the slit with a tongue inserted every once in a while. I heard a drawer open and close, but too much was happening and my eyes were shut hard trying to deal with all the these feelings assaulting my mind.

Then something larger than her finger was slid up and down my slit, the new sensations almost causing me to black out. I opened my eyes when I realized what she had taken out of the drawer. I raised my head to see what she was doing at the same time she pushed the dildo deep into my new vagina. I screamed in ecstasy, arched my back and fainted. When I regained consciousness I was shaking the reverberations of my orgasm still affecting me. In fact, it was at least twenty minutes later before my body stopped shaking. Melody had moved up to where she was laying on my chest, her lips on one of my nipples and my heart rate starting to climb again. I pleaded for her to stop, if she continues there is a good chance of me dying from orgasmic bliss.

This time around the clean-up was accomplished under the shower head. Of course, she helped wash me, and with my new play toys that was another lesson in frustration. I was able to get clean, into one of her nighties and in bed as she was finishing slipping on her nightie. I was worrying how I was going to get any sleep, when I succumbed to it without even knowing it. The next thing I remember is the alarm clock the next morning.

Then my head shot up, oh gawd I have got go to work and how am I going to hide these breasts of mine. I ran to the bathroom, did my morning business and stared at my feminine image in the mirror. Male hair, no makeup, but a huge pair of hooters on my chest. I doubted a large shirt would cover them up, probably just make them look that much more feminine. Yeah a pair of sizable breasts, how can they be construed as anything but feminine.

At that time Melody waltzed into the bathroom with a smile from ear to ear. “I have called your boss Donna, she can’t wait to see you with your new assets. For today, till we can get you femmed up a little more she will keep you in her office to do some special projects for her. Tomorrow though you will be back to your previous job, boobs and all. I will not allow you to hide or shirk your responsibilities, you are a female now, and can work your job dressed as one. I have made another appointment for you to finish the transformation you have started, remember this is what you started, I am just helping you get to the point that you can live and do your job as one.

At least I was spared a dress, cute panties, a pair of slacks and a blouse that buttoned up the back was the fare instead. That was slid on me after the bra was fastened around my chest, cradling my new breasts. Some lipstick, hair in a ponytail and I was delivered to work. I presume Melody did not trust me to make the trip myself. She even went in with me, to see Donna. As I stood before her desk, she raised her eyes to take in my appearance, then a huge smile spread across her face. Do we have a name yet, something feminine that suits your new appearance?

I suddenly lost my voice, not even having a thought on that subject. Melody spoke up for me suggesting Maggie as my new moniker. Well the two of them voted, Maggie won hands down and I was led over to another desk in her office and given a project to do. I received a kiss from Melody, with her telling me that she would be back at three to pick me up, my salon appointment was for three-thirty. I tried to voice an opinion, wanting to not take this any further, but when I tried to speak there were no words forthcoming.

I started on the project that Donna had assigned me, it was mainly busy work, but the way I was dressed I was appreciative for the work out of the public eye. I wondered how I would hold up tomorrow, back at my regular job and dressed totally as a female. For some reason I could see myself in a dress tomorrow and probably heels, full makeup and some sort of curly hairstyle. I wonder if that was what I thought would happen or something I hoped would happen. I could smell my brain overworking, probably emitting puffs of smoke as it tried to explore all of the possibilities.

The time went surprisingly fast, I completed that particular job and four others before it was time to cleanup my desk and wait for Melody to pick me up. Donna confronted me asking if I liked what I was doing today.

“It was fun, even though a lot of it was mind numbing I enjoyed the work, quite happy when I completed one project and asked you for another. The time went quickly and soon it was time to finish and wait for Melody.”

Donna suggested that I see her first thing tomorrow morning before I head back to my old job. I suggest you wear something nicer, a cute hairstyle and some makeup would be nice too. If you can handle them a pair of heels add so much to the appearance of my staff. Now be good, and I will see you promptly at eight A.M. As I rose from the desk Melody peeked in the door and I walked with her out to the car. I repeated Donna’s conversation, Melody getting quite a smirk on her face afterward.

She drove me straight to the salon, where Mary was eagerly awaiting for my arrival. I got a hug from Melody and was left alone to be worked on by Mary. I started to complain about having nothing to eat all day, but Melody just smiled. “You need to lose a few pounds anyway, I am sure you will survive.”

Mary made sure that all facets of my masculine appearance were done away with. A feminine hairstyle, curls courtesy of some curlers and a liberal dousing of setting lotion. Some semi-permanent makeup, mainly lipstick and mascara, and two fresh piercings in each ear along with some cute earrings. Then over to their clothing store, where I was fitted with six very feminine outfits for work. Unfortunately all utilizing skirts and lacy blouses. I indeed looked feminine, no one would ever look at me and suggest I had ever been a member of the male gender.

I did see Donna early the next morning and now worked in her office, a kind of secretary doing little odd jobs for her as she saw fit. That lasted for a week before I was promoted to her P.A. a position I have held ever since.

Melody and I stayed with the lesbian arrangement, I get plenty of pleasure, and she adores her full size plaything. A lot of night time activity lasts until the early morning hours, usually requiring me to take a nap as soon as I get home from work so that I can function the next day at work. We did get lots of clothes, lingerie and shoes for the both of us, my male clothing sent to Goodwill.

Surprisingly my Dad took to Maggie, on one of their visits I was hugged from behind, and addressed as Princess. Mom smiled as he performed that maneuver, so I knew she had something to do with it. I was thrilled, to be loved as a daughter even better than as a son. From that day on we had a regular Father/Daughter relationship, me asking him for help and advice and he doting on me.

The biggest plus to all of this is how much closer Melody and I became. We shared everything in life, shopping, going out, chores around the house, and a vigorous romantic life. Getting a little more cleavage was the best thing to happen to me, I constantly thank Mary for her help in my foolish mistakes made that day, I do owe her a lot. Now to pick my evening gown for tonight, we are celebrating our anniversary, a special occasion. I wonder if the blue one will be the best or should I go with the green one.

So many decisions all starting with the stupid comments made to Melody about her getting a little more cleavage. I ended up with the cleavage, a fact that I am pleased about. I guess I will go with the green dress, being strapless a perfect match for my now impressive cleavage.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

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 int...