Shirley; A Baby Girl

Shirley; A Baby Girl

I was in my second semester at the Tiffany School of Fine Art. Somehow I got accepted as a student here, not sure how it happened but happy it did none the less. I even received a partial scholarship in the process.

The school had an awesome curriculum, with one department solely concerned with Photography, my reason for being here. Not just taking photos but everything from the photo to the finished picture. That is the part I want to study and learn more about. I am into photography, not so much the actual taking of the picture, but the manipulation of it afterward. A lot of pictures that people take could be so much better if they are cleaned up some, removing elements that really do nothing for the photo. I was pretty good at it, having practiced the art for almost ten years now, hoping the school would allow me to get good enough to make a living from it.

The tuition for the school was pretty high, I was hoping to sell a few photos for my third semester tuition, but circumstances kept that from happening. The circumstances being quite pitiful. I had been lazy and not completed any photos sufficiently to sell. Yeah I had altered a few, but now all I had was a bunch of incomplete pictures. A few of them had a lot of promise, one of a woman putting on her lipstick is sex personified. Oh well, I have always been a little lazy, this time it threatened to end my education abruptly.

So now I was actively looking for a part time job to supplement my limited scholarship that I received. I had checked the classifieds many times in the last few days, just nothing there that would do me any good. Lots of fast food jobs, but the lazy part of me again eliminated most of them right off.

While at one of my classes, I spotted a sign that had been added to a bulletin board outside of the class. It wanted a nude model for an art student. Not my first choice but I was getting desperate. If I couldn’t make it at school I would be forced to quit my education and go to work for my father. He owned a construction company, specializing in apartment complexes, my brothers already working for him. I guess it would be alright, but unlike my brothers I was not the outdoor type, preferring to labor inside a building somewhere. Okay the main reason was a job with my father would require me to actually do physical labor. In my peculiar reasoning, something to be avoided at all costs.

I grabbed the sign, then after class called the number. A female answered, so I inquired about the job. She waited while I took a selfie and sent it to her, a requirement before she would meet me to talk about the job. She did stress that the job would take some time, she was doing a montage of paintings, each of the model in different settings. Her use of the word settings did not imply clothes, but subtle pieces of art that were blended into the pose that she had set for her model. She did remind me that I would be naked for long periods of time, usually four to five hours a session. After receiving the selfie, she agreed to meet me at the local student hangout two blocks from the school in an hour.

I was blown away when I saw her, her beauty and presence seemed to be all encompassing. She introduced herself, Patrice is her name and she has made a living from her portraits for ten years now. She was definitely no nonsense, right to the point, strict and uncompromising about what she would pay and what would be required of me. She wanted a contract that had a penalty for breaking it, since she was planning ten portraits using the same model, if I quit it would require her to start all over again. I understood her point, but the contract part seemed a little excessive.

Apparently I passed her first inspection and since I had agreed to her terms so far, the next step was for her to see me naked. I was taken to her home, a beautiful three story affair that had a sunny loft, where the painting would be done. In her studio, she set on a bar stool in front of her easel, waiting for me to strip off my clothes. Like I said a little demanding and obviously very sure of herself. I finally managed to get all of my clothes off, she got up and approached me, moving my arms, legs and erection to where she wanted it. Yes, being naked in front of her excited me to no end. As she maneuvered me into the pose she desired, it was all I could do to not come all over her hand.

I had no idea how to respond, it was done so matter of factly that I was left in quite a quandary. Several more times in the next half hour I was manipulated, then she would return to her easel and do some sketching. The last time she had me spread my legs, and moved my male member back in between my legs than had me close them. I was left with a flat front and a squashed male appendage. From time to time when it was touched it started to react, but my humiliation at being seen this way managed to pretty well keep things soft and flaccid, well at least not a full hard on. Something I was very thankful for. Talk about being humiliated, I am sure my face was several shades of red for the entire time I was in her studio.

At the local hangout she had mentioned a ten dollar an hour pay rate, a fact that I was thrilled about. After seeing me nude she has some other ideas that she would like to explore. Some of her ideas would require me to have some things done to me, nothing permanent and she would cover any costs of having them done. I started to question what she had in mind until she mentioned a twenty dollar per hour pay rate might be more appropriate for what she had in mind. Right there I forgot about what she just said, the twenty dollar pay rate the only thing registering in my mind. I think it is called selective hearing, an unfortunate trait of a lot of males, especially me.

I agreed to be her model, she wanted me here tomorrow afternoon, she would have the contract ready and after signing she would take me to a salon to get me ready to pose, a few minor changes to enhance my look. No posing tomorrow, all of this in preparation for the next day. She would pay me for my time at the salon but not the twenty dollar rate.

All of my classes were morning classes that jived with her painting schedule, so we agreed that I would pose from one to six daily unless an extra half hour might be needed to get to a stopping point. The weekends would remain free, some time off for me and for her to get her personal affairs handled.

She would pay me in cash every day, but also reminded me that if I backed out of the contract there would be a severe cash penalty for doing so. To insure my cooperation she wanted my first seven day’s pay held back, that being the penalty if I backed out. Since she had stressed this several times, I knew she was worried about me changing my mind later and leaving her high and dry. I tried to assure her that I would stay the course, until she had her paintings finished.

The next day arrived like most others, my classes were alright but the subject matter at this stage pretty boring. I went to her home and she had the contract ready. I read it through, nothing alarming in it. It was all spelled out clearly and concisely. Before I signed she held up another sheet of paper, on it is the things that will be done to me at the salon over time as per her wishes. I read through them then sat down hard on a chair, the closest one I could find. I now saw what she had in mind, my modeling would be done as a female, not as my male self. She went over it in detail explaining each treatment and why she wanted it done. Each painting would be a stage in a female’s development from girl of age twelve to a young woman in her late twenties.

“The first few treatments would be mainly hair related, removing your body hair and turning the hair on your head into that of a young female. Some light makeup, pierced ears and creating a vagina to make me the proper gender body wise. The salon she is using has a special process where my male organ is glued back between my legs, then a silicone prosthetic is applied over it. You will look just like a female, even requiring you to use the bathroom as one. Later as the paintings progress you will have some figure training done to develop a female body culminating in creation of breasts. Some makeup lessons, always subdued and only enough to help create the proper gender. This is for the later portraits as the subject matures into a young woman.”

“Due to the cost involved in your transformation it will be necessary to stay in the role until the portraits are finished. Thus her full disclosure now, so that you fully aware of what you are signing on for. Do you understand and have any questions?”

“No questions but I would like to think about all of this for a few minutes.” She showed me to a balcony that was shielded from the sun by her home, and told me to take my time. I sat on the lounge chair provided and leaned back and sighed. Lots of thoughts ran through my head for the span of time I was out there. I had no idea how long I was there, but it seemed to be forever.

I thought of my classes first, most of them were large classes, attendance taken and a graduate assistant actually giving the class. I doubt anyone would realize that I was different looking as long as I answered to my name when called. Since my name was obviously female, there would likely be no problem there.

My parents had named me Shirley, after an uncle on my mother’s side. I really had sympathy for my uncle living with that name for his whole life. I guess in Europe, mainly Great Britain, that name is often used for either gender, here in America not at all. Well since it is my name, so the not at all part seems mute now. At an early age I somehow picked up the nickname of Sly, don’t ask me how it happened, but I have went with that name most of my life. I was told it was a cousin of about five that had tried to say my name and came out with Shy but slurred. It quickly morphed to Sly and for some reason it stuck.

I had very few friends, tending to stay to myself, most of my fellow students so wrapped up in themselves that they seldom noticed anybody elses presence. I imagined especially in the later stages that dressing as a male would be unpractical, so I needed to ask about a wardrobe. Buying female clothes for a couple of month’s job might be the deal breaker. Letting out a big breath, then straightening my shirt I made my way back into the loft.

She was at her easel. As I approached I was flabbergasted at her painting. It was me apparently as a young female. The detail was phenomenal to me, although I was not an art critic. I stood there watching as she filled in parts of my body with her sketching pencil. I was fascinated at her skill, I could handle images from a camera, but to create an image from thin air was way beyond anything I could even dream of.

She stopped and asked if I decided. I stuttered a few words, but I think she was part psychic, as she managed to figure out what I was asking. “I will furnish you a wardrobe, as befits a young woman, everything including undergarments, just no evening gowns or sports clothes.”

I blushed, way more than I wanted to know. I had totally forgotten about underwear. I made a quick decision, I hope it is one I can live with for the next month or two. “Yes I will model for you, just please allow me a little time to get used to all of this, maybe if we don’t talk about it for a few days I can get my head around this and not end up in a mental ward. She showed me where to sign, then giving me copies we were off to the salon. Within an hour of signing I was naked on a table, my body hair being chemically removed. I was offered several options, I chose the permanent removal method using a cream to do the job. No further hair regrowth would be possible with this treatment. I was never wild about having body hair, it is uncomfortable and unsightly. Now with this treatment a mute subject. Next my female vagina was secured to my lower anatomy, junior now glued back between my legs for the duration of the portraits. Thankfully they used a spray on the area, to numb things, otherwise I was not sure how I would make it through that process.

No difference as I was lying there, but when I stood and tried walking it felt very different. My legs brushed against each other the whole length of my thighs, something that has never happened before. It was not unpleasant, just very different. The feeling that something was missing did prevail though, I even reached my hand down there several times in an attempt to grope the missing appendage. All my hand found was a slit, warm and somewhat moist. I nearly inserted my finger in the slit, till my mind relayed that it was now a part of me and the desire quickly abated. Of course, just the thought of having a vagina now made for a rich blush, spreading from my face to most of my body.

Then they started on the hair on my head, washing and conditioning it then setting it in curlers after evening up the ends. I spent some time under a dryer, wondering how much a change curly hair will make in my appearance. When my hair was dry, I was moved back to the styling chair and my ears were pierced. Followed by my eyebrows being waxed, not a lot being waxed away, but enough to make me look more feminine.

Looking at the mirror in front of me Sly was gone, a female me was all I saw in the image. I had the genitals of a female, but otherwise I looked quite a bit younger, undeveloped just like a young female. The hair and my thin eyebrows made my face look quite feminine, I presume that is what Patrice saw in me after our first meeting. Thus the change in gender for her portraits.

While I was being worked on Patrice had done some shopping. As Ginger finished my alterations Patrice entered with several bags of things for me to wear. My male confidence was gone, replaced with a vulnerability that I was not used to. Suddenly my nakedness bothered me, my hands quickly trying to cover as much of my body as possible. Even though my smallish body had never bothered me, the lack of body hair and a male organ made me cringe, my hands quickly trying to cover my female slit and my now hairless chest.

When Patrice handed me a pair of panties I quickly grabbed them and pulled them up my legs. Meanwhile Patrice was giggling away. A couple of times she asked me to try and remember my thoughts, my look then would be perfect for one of the portraits. My knees almost gave out as I reached for the edge of the table I had been lying on to keep me from face planting on the floor. The feeling of the silky panties on my bare legs way too much for my mind to handle. I received a camisole next, Patrice helping me get it on, my legs still wobbly and unable to support me. Again the silkiness doing a job on my composure.

She searched in her bags for the next item, I was hoping for a pair of pants and a shirt. Instead I got a very short dress, all frilly and lacy. I stepped into it, as she helped me pull it up so that my arms could go into the sleeves. After it was situated on my shoulders she zipped up the back leaving me encased in the femininity of the dress. It was a pink print fabric, very silky and delicious feeling on my body. The worst part it only came to mid thigh, leaving way too much of my legs showing. I tried in vain to pull on the hem to get it to cover more of my leg, but to no avail.

She led me out to her car and we made the trip back to her house. I was quiet, trying to handle all the new feelings and sensations that were assaulting my mind. Once at her home, I asked to use her balcony again, I needed some time to adjust. I must have set out there for the better portion of an hour, lost in thought, often rubbing my hands over what I was wearing. Patrice came to get me and we found some seats in her living room. For the first time I was aware of my surroundings, the room decorated very feminine, a collection of knick knacks tastefully displayed on shelves and cabinets. The décor was functional but elegant, using a lot of different fabrics to give the impression of feminine elegance.

She asked if I was alright. My quietness and reserved behavior worrying her a little. I managed a reply in the positive, it was just that everything had kind of overwhelmed me. She made another offer to me, since she had been able to observe my behavior the last few days. I could use her spare bedroom, located on the ground floor, with a separate entrance. That way she would be handy to help if needed and I would not be exposed to my neighbors where I presently lived. I asked if she was sure, then launched myself at her thanking her for saving me from certain humiliation. I did get some special hugs, savoring each and every one from her. I looked female, but acting like a female was something I knew nothing about. She spent some time with me that afternoon giving me the basics, then made me practice so that I could attend my classes in the morning.

Later she took me to my apartment to gather essentials, all of my male clothing and personal effects left in the apartment. While there I paid one month’s rent in advance saving me a trip later to do so. Patrice’s home was within walking distance of the school, so I would most likely walk to school most days. If it was raining I would drive.

I got settled in her spare bedroom, quite large and decorated in a very feminine manner. She had bought me a few more mainstream clothes to wear to classes, so I breathed a little easier as I hung them in my closet. She did want me to wear a training bra, so that I would get used to the restriction around my chest. After a few days of wearing it, even posing nude I would miss its embrace and that was the look and feeling she was going for. Once it was on I doubted I would miss its embrace, but by bedtime I was not even aware I was wearing one.

The nude posing would start tomorrow, someone from the salon to come and put my hair in pigtails, not a difficult task. It was the myriad of ribbons that went along with the style that would take time. I did manage to get to sleep shortly after I laid down, but was up at the crack of dawn anxious to get to the day’s activities. Imagine me anxious to shed my clothes and pose nude for hours. Oh well, it is a slippery slope, once on it is all downhill.

No classes so a few cookies to nibble on and I was soon summoned to have my hair put in pigtails. It took over an hour to weave in the many pink ribbons then finish the pigtail with a bow at the end of each pigtail. One look in the mirror and I let out a groan, I looked three years old, if that and so feminine. A light coating of a pink lipstick, and two swipes of a mascara brush and I was pronounced done. Up to her loft, my clothes removed and then she posed me sitting among a group of huge cuddly teddy bears. I can imagine how I looked, a larger than life little girl, playing with her plush animals. I imagine my cheeks were sufficiently red already, the smile on Pat’s face reflecting on how pleased she was with the sight before her.

I doubted my blush ever left my face, but Pat’s asking me to kiss the teddie always heightened the color a little. My lipstick was refreshed often, I doubted I needed it but Pat did get a lot of enjoyment as she did so. Since it was Saturday there were no time restrictions, other than Pat wanting to sketch the basic of the painting while my femininity was so fresh in her mind. Sunday would be an off day then resume the normal schedule for the following week. Pat did comment on my squirming, realizing she would have to do something to stop most of it for the following sessions. I pleaded that everything was so different now, not being aware of how that statement would soon bite me in the butt.

Her solution was to stay dressed as a little girl all day, my pigtails staying in until classes Monday. So reluctantly I was a young girl all weekend, even made to take a nap in the afternoon with my teddie. Both days seemed so long, the hours slowly creeping by. I was even fed some baby food, Pat getting a lot of enjoyment at the faces I made as she hand fed me. By late Sunday I had got used to the dresses and was no longer aware of my hair in pigtails. Note to self, keep my mouth shut in the future.

Monday I overslept, even after all the naps and early bedtimes of the weekend I was so out of it. Pat came to help me get ready for my classes, since I only had a few minutes to get ready and across the campus. She ended up giving me a ride to class, with me so unaware of what I was wearing. As I entered the classroom I did not realize I was still in a juvenile dress and my hair still in pigtails. I had not undressed after Sunday, the dress comfortable as I fell asleep in it.

Since she had dropped me off I was stuck, not having time to get back to her house and change even if I ditched this class. I received many stares and also a lot of compliments on my clothes and hair style from the girls in the class. The predominantly male class members snickered, then pointed in my direction and made some faces at me. I did what any young female might do and stuck out my tongue at them. I got a lot of laughs at that, but soon I was ignored by them as the professor entered the room.

The professor was a very attractive woman, well built and obviously proud of her figure since the clothes she wore accented it to the max. She gave me a look, then smiled, asking me to see her after class. She knew her subject well so there was little time to goof off or anything else while in her class. In her class, I even had trouble keeping up with her, my notes after her class many pages long and quite detailed.

I waited in my seat until all the students had filed out, then approached her desk. She looked me over more closely not missing any part of my dress or hair. “Are you posing for Patrice or is this just your new style of dress? You look so cute, I could just eat you up right here. Anyway to get to the important matters. If you are free on the weekends can you pose for me, I will match what Pat is paying you and will furnish free meals. I will even pick you up at Pats then return you there Sunday night if you agree.”

I managed a yes, then the bell rang and I had to skip to my next class. Why I skipped down the hall instead of running I may never know. It just seemed the thing to do. My pigtails bouncing around my head and the ribbons swaying to and fro just seemed to dictate my juvenile actions. Not as much reaction to my looks in this class, although all of the girls were appraising my new look and smiling.

The next class was watching a movie on developing high speed film, so I ignored the movie and tried to put together what exactly had happened this morning. All I came up with is how much I had humiliated myself, and now had obtained a second job for the weekends, but not sure if that was good or bad. I had no idea what I was to model if it was nude again or a juvenile female.

Since she took a liking to my appearance in class, I imagine I will be in dresses all weekend, frilly little dresses fit for a very young female. I let out a big sigh, the slope I am on is getting slicker by the minute, I wonder if I will even be able to return to being a male eventually. The bigger question was after months of this will I want to return to the male gender.

Once classes were done for the day, back to Patrice’s and then shed my clothes. She had me keep on the training bra, to be only removed when she was sketching that portion of my body. According to her my look and actions when I had it on were perfect for her portrait. After five hours we called it quits and she ordered some pizza to be delivered for us to share. She asked if Laura, the professor had hired me. It turns out they know each other, often sharing models or ideas for future portraits. Patrice smiled and asked if Laura had told me how I would be attired for my session posing for her. I shook my head no, then Patrice giggled, mentioning I might be quite surprised. I did ask if posing for her involved clothes, the giggle again, yes a few small things, I am sure you will like what you get to wear. I tried and failed to get any more information out of her, but she did say she will drop by Saturday to see me posing in person.

I thanked her for the pizza, then slipped on my dress and went to my room downstairs. My mind did recognize that I just referred to the dress as mine, something to contemplate later. I had some homework to finish so set at the small vanity in my room and worked on it. I did wonder several times what Laura would be dressing me as, but nothing came to mind. I knew she liked the juvenile dress I wore to class, so maybe something along those lines.

By Friday Patrice had finished the first portrait, only nine more to go. She did pay me rather than withhold the first week’s pay, I presume she knew I wasn’t going to leave her in the lurch, staying in her room downstairs kind of foolish if I was going to run off. At Friday’s class Laura had asked me to wear the juvenile dress when I came to her place. She gave me the address and how to get there, but suggested it might be better if I allowed her to pick me up at Patrice’s place. We agreed on her picking me up, at nine the next morning. I worried most of the night about Laura and her idea of what I would wear. Eventually I drifted off to sleep, waking late and having to hurry and put my dress on. Laura was waiting downstairs for me, a huge smile on her face.

The trip to her house did not take long, actually it was only a few blocks from Patrice's. I was shown in, then a brief tour of the house. It is pretty impressive, from the look of it Laura is making some substantial money. Again a loft for where she does her art work, with me noticing immediately there are no art supplies, just banks of lights and several cameras on tripods. Then my eyes focused on the huge plush animals laying everywhere and the crib and playpen towards the side of the room. I was led to a changing table, helped up on it and soon my panties were sliding down my legs. It took all that time for me to realize I was soon to be diapered, the baby powder sprinkled over my groin a sure indication of what was to come.

Unfortunately the diaper was not the only thing I was to wear. She slipped a camisole over my shoulders, then a next to nothing juvenile dress that buttoned up the back. The dress she was helping me into much more feminine than the one I had worn over here. A pair of booties were next, like a baby might wear, although sized to fit my feet. A pair of mittens were slipped on my hands, the strap closure fitting snug around my wrist. I was helped to the floor, and told that I was to crawl any where I wanted to go, not ever to try standing. I was to play with the stuffed animals and dolls until it was time to be fed, then after a warm bottle of milk, a nap in my playpen would be needed. She will be taking pictures as they became available, though I was to ignore the camera and just concentrate on being a little girl. Another sigh, then she swatted my butt to get me to move toward my waiting plush animals. I crawled over to a huge teddy bear, then attempted to cuddle it. The mittens made doing the simplest things difficult, so I ended up in the teddy bears lap, his one arm over my back. I looked over toward one of the cameras to see the flash going off repeatedly with a huge smile on Laura’s face. I tried to move forward to a lion that was next to the teddy bear, losing my balance as I crawled over the teddy bears leg, ending up on my stomach and my head wedged in between the lion’s legs.

This continued for quite some time before Laura called a halt to the play period. I was placed in a playpen, having to crawl into it, then one side closed leaving me inside. I never tried to stand up, once up all I had to do was step over the playpen sides and walk away. The thought never entered my mind, I was drowsy and wanting my bottle. I was given a bottle of warm milk, its nipple placed in my mouth and her rubbing my throat causing me to start sucking on the bottle. I have no idea why I drank the warm milk, it was my intention to just drink a little of it then stop. As I finished the bottle I closed my eyes and drifted off, still sucking on the nipple.

When my tummy was rubbed I opened my eyes seeing both Laura and Patrice looking at me with huge smiles on their faces. I was shown some of the pictures Laura had taken, truly amazed at how they turned out. I looked just like a larger than life infant girl playing with her toys and sleeping in her crib. Even the shots with me sucking on a baby bottle were cute. I got hugged by Patrice and kissed on the nose before she went back home. Laura checked my diaper then nestled me in the crib with several of my fuzzy friends. Another bottle and I was soon asleep.

Waking up the next morning was surreal, looking around me at the larger than life animals and then at my clothes it took me a few minutes to figure out where I was. I then came to the realization that I was wearing a diaper and I was soaking wet. Laura to the rescue as I was helped up onto the changing table and she changed my diaper. I was hoping for some other type of clothing for today, but it seemed to not be in the cards.

After getting changed I looked around the studio to see that all of my fuzzy friends had been replaced with dolls dressed like I was and almost the same size as me. Some lipstick on my lips and I was soon sat in the middle of the dolls while she snapped picture after picture of me. I have no idea why I put up with this, what I was wearing and the diapers so weird for a young male to experience. I tried to broach the subject with her, but something always came up to postpone the conversation. Once as I was getting ready to ask her about getting me out of the diapers she placed a larger than life pacifier in my mouth and kissed the end of my nose. Well that short circuited my brain and no coherent thoughts emerged for quite a while.

I finally made it to Sunday night, Laura paying me for my time and then delivering me back to Patrice’s still in my cute dress and diaper. Patrice was there to welcome me back, taking the diaper bag from Laura then leading me into the apartment that Patrice let me use. I noticed a crib where the bed used to be, otherwise everything seemed the same. A large sigh escaped my lips as I was led to the crib, my cute little dress removed and my diaper changed. Patrice had laid a changing pad on the floor and that is where I laid while my diaper was being changed. I tried to complain, but the pacifier or one similar to what I had at Laura’s was inserted. I started sucking on it, somehow sucking on it was comforting and calming.

Another morning and another surprised wakening while I tried to remember how I came to be in the crib and in diapers. As I was laying there contemplating my fate, Patrice came in with a baby bottle, checked it for being warm on her wrist and then slipped into my mouth. I tried to protest her actions, but instead was soon sucking the warm milk into my tummy. Meanwhile she was changing my diaper, putting a plastic panty over the diaper. Then a frilly panty, with row after row of lace evenly spaced on the back side of the panty. I was sat up in the crib, a pacifier inserted in my mouth then another frilly juvenile dress slid over my head. It had buttons up the back and a huge ribbon bow that tied in the back. She removed the pacifier from my mouth, then applied some lipstick. Pacifier back in place and she worked on my pigtails straightening and fluffing up the ribbons that were intertwined with my hair. I was dragged out to her car and placed in an over sized infant seat and buckled in. Then taken to the college and dropped off outside the building where my first class would be held. Unbuckled from the infant seat and then helped out of the car. She straightened my dress put my pacifier on a ribbon around my neck and kissed me on the tip of my nose. She then got back into her car and drove away, while I stood there in shock. About that time I felt my groin get wet, then turned several shades of red. I had just peed in my diaper, without any control what so ever. I just stood there trying to decide what to do, eventually walking towards my first class, the wet diaper very much evident. One of my female classmates saw me, came over and hugged me, then dragged me the rest of the way into the class. She saw the pacifier around my neck and before she returned to her seat she placed it between my lips, smiled and went to sit down. Nothing was said to me, but I received lots of attention from every member of the class. I usually get called on in this class, but the teacher just ignored me not wanting to upset me and make me cry. Another female took my hand and led me to my next class, making sure I had my pacifier before she went to her seat.

After that class I did make it outside by myself to see Patrice waiting for me. As she came to collect me I was sucking on the pacifier energetically, like it was my salvation in this new world. Once in the infant seat and buckled in I was handed a baby bottle, grabbing it with both hands and eagerly consuming its contents. Once at home I was removed from the infant seat and taken to my room, laid on the floor and she changed my diaper. Never once did I say anything to her, assuming all of this like it was an everyday occurrence. I was soon to learn it will be such from now on.

Once changed I was taken up to her loft and placed on the floor. My fuzzy friend, the big teddy bear was brought over and I hugged it like a long lost friend. So there I sat, my arms wrapped around the bear and totally nude except for my diaper and frilly panties. My hair still in pigtails and with a freshly applied coat of lipstick on my lips. I saw her painting and I was in and out of sleep as the afternoon progressed. Another bottle for dinner and then my diaper was changed. I was put to bed, a onesie now covering my little body. Again the pacifier and I was soon dreaming of bears, dolls and my next delicious bottle of milk.

I never did attend any more classes, too busy modeling for Patrice and Laura. Laura was able to retire from teaching, making enough from my pictures to do so easily. Patrice never did finish the rest of the portraits she wanted to do, but instead started painting portraits of Shirley with her numerous dolls and fuzzy friends. I think I heard her say she will never be able to catch up to the demand for her paintings of me and my friends.

Well that was not all I was occupied with, since I had lots of toys to play with each requiring some of my time every day. Then there is the baby bottles of milk that had to be consumed, which in turn made my diapers wet requiring changing often.

I did realize deep down what had happened, I had been encouraged to become an infant girl, diaper dependent and getting all of my nourishment from a baby bottle. Patrice and Laura do take good care of me, with me never wanting for anything. Every once in a while I am shown a bank account statement with the name Shirley on the top of it. The number of zeros in the number is more than my little mind can perceive. Suffice to say I will never be hurting for money, but then I don’t need any as long as I have my two mommies to care for me.

It is a different life, that is for sure, but one I do enjoy, being hugged, bathed and of course having my diaper changed. To think it all started when I answered an ad to pose nude. Maybe not a life for everyone, but for me just perfect. The name now fits, Shirley a baby girl.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

Kiki: A Reluctant Sissy

 Kiki: A Reluctant Sissy

My girlfriend and I had been out clubbing, visiting the same clubs we normally haunt but things were quiet tonight, nothing much happening anywhere we went. Then Melissa saw a marquee across the street from the last club we had just exited from that caught her attention.

It was advertising a sissy contest. Cash prizes and merchandise for the top five contestants. Melissa quickly looked my way and smiled, a mischievous smirk appearing on her gorgeous face. I applied my brakes immediately, I knew what the meaning of the word sissy was, figuring that my male gender would put me at risk of becoming one of the sissy contestants. Definitely not a type of contest I would ever see myself participating in.

Well that worked for all of ten seconds as Melissa moved behind me and pushed me toward the club. When I tried to turn towards her, she was able to take advantage of me and soon I felt myself being propelled in the door of the club. The bouncer at her destination just smiling at me as she held the door open for us. Melissa making sure I was safely inside the club before she eased up.

The hostess greeted us and showed Melissa towards a table right near the stage. I quickly followed not wanting to be left alone in this place. The hostess eyed me up as she pulled out my chair and handed Melissa an entry form for the sissy contest while I was trying to see what was going on around us. My eyes as big as saucers at a few of the sissies lined up to make their way on to the stage. Once I focused on the table I saw what Melissa was doing. I never heard Melissa ask for the entry form, so I presume the hostess saw a possible entrant in their contest and took the initiative.

Melissa was reading the rules for entering me in the contest, that smirk ever evident. I tried to mutter no over and over, but as far as Melissa was concerned she was not hearing anything I said. I let out a huge sigh as she reached into her purse to retrieve a pen so she could fill out the entry form. I tried to reach over and snatch the pen from her, while our waitress was taking our drink orders. The waitress’s hands playing with my longish hair, curling strands of it around her finger. My one hand went to my hair, trying to keep the waitress from playing with it. The distraction was enough, allowing Melissa to finish filling out the entry form and replace the pen in her purse.

The waitress, hands still in my hair, made the remark that I was sure to be one of the finalists, she is so cute. Melissa squealing in delight as the two discussed my entry into the contest. I did get a free drink, some fruity concoction with no alcohol, since sissy entrants were not allowed anything alcoholic to drink. I was never asked what I wanted, Melissa’s choice of drink and my free sissy drink delivered to our table by another waitress. My drink was placed in front of me, and I gulped it down, hoping for anything to help make some or all of this go away. I almost choked on the drink, but did manage to get it all down eventually. The drink did not help, the situation hadn’t changed, but at least my dry parched throat was quenched a little.

Since Melissa had finished the entry form, the waitress took it over to the bar, after snapping a picture of me with her phone. She conferred with someone at the bar and then returned a few minutes later with an entry number stamped on a copy of the form, the name Kiki assigned to me for the contest. My schedule for each night of the judging was handed to Melissa, two nights of being a sissy in front of everyone as they picked the best sissy of the many entrants.

I tried to plead with her, all of this just too much. I thought about my job, if I get transformed to look like a sissy how am I going to be able to go to work. Melissa saw my concern when I mentioned work, telling me that she will speak to my boss, about my desire to win the sissy contest. She is sure Natalie will give me the time off, even come to root for me, as I proceed through the contest.

Just like that I was an official entrant, even though I wanted nothing to do with any of this. Tonight was just a warm up, the first round of judging would start tomorrow. I even got a smock to wear home, proclaiming me as an official entrant in the Ultimate Sissy Competition. The smock to be slipped over my clothing, the hem ending mid thigh. Somebody had used a marker to scribble the name Kiki on the bodice of the smock. Of course, Melissa immediately helped me into the smock, doing up the buttons at the back of the smock. I imagined I looked a sight, a male wearing a smock, in a vibrant pink color. As I looked down at the smock on my body, it looked like I was wearing a short dress, my pants showing out from under the smock the only incongruity. Of course, Melissa saw that foo pah, approaching me and unbuttoning my jeans. A hot passionate kiss kept me distracted for a few moments, as they slid down my legs. The waitress assisted Melissa in removing the jeans from my body, while I tried to hang on to them. I never did see them again that night, Melissa just smirking when I asked about them.

The waitress handed her a business card, the salon on the card is doing the makeovers for the sissy contest, and Melissa needed to call and make me an appointment. Of course, Melissa had her phone out immediately and soon I found out I had an appointment at nine the next morning for my transformation into a sissy. The fact that the appointment had been made at ten-thirty in the evening spoke volumes about the place.

I closed my eyes, as the reality of the situation started to make itself known. Soon to be a sissy and strutting on the stage in front of hundreds wearing no telling what. Already dressed in a smock, my bare legs on show to everyone. Why did we have to go clubbing tonight, the start of a most disastrous time for me.

Once some of the other sissies found out I was entered in the contest, they all came by to wish me luck, and give me a good luck kiss to start me off right. Melissa was snapping pictures right and left with her phone, the ones I managed to peek at showed me with lipstick smeared on my lips and a bewildered look. I would have laughed at the image, but this was not funny anymore, my whole life turned on end in less than an hour. I kept looking at the other sissies, imagining myself dressed like they were and acting so girly.

Melissa finally dragged me from the club a little after eleven-thirty, wanting me well rested for my appointment in the morning at the salon. I begged for her to relent, I didn’t want to be a sissy and definitely not entered in some sissy contest. Of course, she ignored me as she planned what I could wear to the salon appointment. Finally she had enough of my whining, as she flatly told me if I didn’t want to be in the contest why did I let her fill out the entry form. I looked at her in disbelief, I had tried to stop her, the whole situation now so utterly ridiculous.

Once home she went to our bedroom rummaging around for some clothes for me for tomorrow. In the meantime I was told to strip, then handed a pair of panties and a nightie to wear to bed tonight. I stomped my foot in frustration, but soon found myself attired in the frilly lingerie anyway. She did hold me tight once we were both in bed, I think that was only so that I could not make an escape.

Morning came way too early, the little bit of sleep that I managed made all of his even worse. Melissa came waltzing into the bedroom her phone in her hand. She had called my work and told Natalie that I just had to enter a sissy contest, so I will be off work for a few days. She made it sound like I wanted to practice my makeup and hair styling, since I was determined to win the contest. Natalie wanted me to come in one day, so that my fellow co-workers could see the new sissy me. She promised to be at the club every night rooting for me, and taking videos to show the rest of the employees.

“Since Kiki is so determined to win, I will find her a position where she can work dressed as a sissy for a couple of hours each day, the least I can do for her. That way she can still dress and live the sissy life for awhile more. Of course she will get paid, allowing her some money for more sissy dresses”

I was listening to all of this, tears starting to cascade down my cheek. I wanted none of this, but it seems the more I protest the deeper I get involved in this crazy scenario. Now everybody wanting to get in on the act somehow.

I knew I need to stand up to Melissa and refuse to take this any further, but in our three years of being a couple I had never succeeded in doing so with her, so I sighed knowing my involvement in the sissy contest will not change.

I have loved her from the first day she noticed me, doing everything in my power to please her. As she dressed me for my appointment, I hung my head down, the clothes she is putting on me so feminine and dainty. I know I was blushing, my face and body feeling hot. I was a little unsure of myself, a faint feeling appearing from time to time. She did get me to her car, dressed in one of her blouses, with a bra and panties as lingerie. The culottes she had me wear are feminine, even though they had two separate leg openings. Cut full the material laid around my legs as if I was wearing a skirt, a very full skirt that swayed around my legs as I walked. I was given a pair of her flats to wear, a light tan in color with a bow on the vamp of the shoe. A brief look in the mirror and I could see not one ounce of any masculinity visible.

Out of our apartment, dressed as I was, I literally gave up. All of my efforts so far getting me absolutely no where. I would try to make the best of this, and hope I would have a part of my male life to return to after the contest. I did like being held last night, Melissa holding me so tight, several times I reached over to kiss her, her response simply breathtaking, I have never experienced kisses so erotic and sensual during our married life.

She pulled up in front of the salon, getting out to get my door for me. I was helped out of the car and led inside. At the reception desk she told them my name and signed some forms that she was handed. I was never consulted, Melissa signing for me. A lady from the back of the salon came forward, took my hand and led me away. Taken back to a room at the rear of the salon, I was asked to sit on a love seat as she explained what was to happen to me today.

Several times she asked if I was sure I wanted to pursue this sissy adventure, but each time I nodded my head in the affirmative. My one chance to stop this slipping through my fingers. I have no idea why I didn’t stop this run away train then, I guess I was just afraid of what Melissa would say if I did. Not unusual for me, since I have never had any confidence in myself, especially anything concerning Melissa and myself.

I do love Melissa dearly, I just hope that this so called adventure into the sissy life does not change her love for me. I realized right then that it will change things between us though, since I will no longer look like her husband, and probably not act like one. Maybe her love for me will stay the same, at least I sincerely hope so.

I was undressed and my first step toward being a sissy was made. A whitish cream was spread all over my body. Imagine me standing naked in the room, covered in a cream waiting for it to dissolve all of my body hair. After she had wiped off all of the cream on my body, she applied it to my face and eyebrows, leaving it on for a longer period of time. While I was waiting for it to work she mentioned that this one time application would be all that I need, the cream permanently stopping any hair growth in the future.

That thought occupied my thoughts for quite a while, already a major change that will affect me for the rest of my life. Not many males have no body hair, or a beard, or have any eyebrows. Once the last of the cream on my face had been removed I was helped up on a table. My feet were placed in stirrups that came out of the end of the table. A strap was affixed to hold them there, then the stirrups were spread wide leaving me quite exposed. She stepped in between my legs and sprayed something over my male member and the surrounding area. A few minutes later I could feel nothing, but raising my head a little I could see her doing something down there. I laid my head back on the table hard, fearing the worst. The impact on the table sure to give me a headache. But what is happening to my male member the greater concern.

I thought back to the sissies I had seen at the club, their nether regions smooth and flat, like Melissa’s. My mind instantly thought of how I could make love to Melissa if I had nothing down there to do it with. Then I thought of what I would look like after she finished her work picturing a vagina like Melissa’s between my legs. I doubted Melissa would want sex with me now, my appearance now to be more like a young female child.

I tried to close my legs, as I thought of someone sticking something in my soon to be female sex, a terrifying thought indeed. I couldn’t see very well, but what I did see was not very comforting. Flat and smooth, no sign of anything sticking out and now feeling wet and moist down there.

Time for boobs is apparently next, as two quite good sized breasts were glued to my chest, there for the duration as the glue they used guaranteed to hold until the solvent is applied. Right away they jiggled and bounced, the feelings they generated affecting me immediately. A glance down to my chest and I don’t think many will miss the fact that I now have breasts, the basic requirement for a sissy already in place. I used my hands to cup them, trying to minimize any movement, but instead the nipples of the breast form hardened causing even more feelings to somehow be dealt with.

Although the major changes were already completed, they continued working on me for another hour. My lower legs were treated after my feet were encased in a pair of towering heels. Two syringes of liquid were injected into my calves, one in each leg. I was told it would tighten the tendons in each leg, making wearing heels mandatory and less painful.

Lips were plumped up, now each part of a cupid’s bow. Individual lashes were added to my own, making my eyes look so feminine and dainty. Lipstick, eye liner and eye shadow were also applied, being told I did not have to worry about them coming off, since they were semi-permanent.

My hair was next, cut into a feminine style after it was washed and conditioned. Some curls were added with a curling iron, after my hair was dried. Then my hair was put into a ponytail with ribbons weaved in, bangs were cut in, then the sides were curled with the curling iron. My image now so feminine, with the bangs I sported a hairdo like a little girl might wear. I doubt a masculine style could be derived from that hairdo in the future.

Then came the clothes, frilly, silky and obviously for a female of a quite young age. I did get a glimpse of my image along the way, my image not reflecting any masculine features. A huge sigh on my part, my sissy image now firmly established. I kept going over in my mind the permanence of these treatments, fearing my life as a male and husband now gone forever. Husband, what a laugh, more likely a young daughter to Melissa. I just know it will affect our marriage, no doubt it will be the same with all of my changes. How can a husband be thought of in the same way, looking and dressing like a young sissy.

Melissa gathered me up, squealing in delight at my appearance. I was led from the salon, Melissa’s hand firmly holding on to my wrist. The salon had handled the charges, so confidant that I would win the sissy contest, gaining them free advertisement of their services and skill in converting this male into a sissy. Another confirmation of my success as a sissy

Taken home, Melissa seeing to it that I was never more than a foot or two from her at any time. The newness of the towering heels made me dependent on her for support, otherwise I am sure I would find myself on my butt more than once. At home I was taken to our bedroom, then changed into another sissy outfit, one of many now hanging in my closet. My male clothes no longer residing there, causing another huge sigh escaping from my mouth. My dresser drawers were also empty, but my bed is now covered in several different sissy outfits. All of them in pastel colors, and so feminine. Short skirts, and frilly tops the common denominator in all of my new apparel.

Another huge sigh, the sighs coming more often now. I am so screwed, even after the contest is over, everyone will likely see me as a sissy, a fate I will not be able to escape. With all of the things done to me I wonder if a return to some sort of masculinity is even possible after the contest.

I looked over the clothes laying on my bed, Melissa is having too much fun, the amount of money she is spending on my new wardrobe is substantial. Surely she is not planning on me remaining a sissy in attire after the contest, but the disappearance of all my male clothes not a good sign in that regard. I was eventually dressed in a nightie, then put to bed for an afternoon nap. Melissa making sure I was tucked in, with her right beside me as soon as she donned her nightie.

She had set the alarm, it now ringing loudly. No dinner tonight, just time to don one of my sissy outfits and hauled off to the club. At a little after seven that is where I found myself, backstage in the area where the sissies were gathered getting ready for the first parade across the stage.

For three hours we were paraded across the stage, the audience getting to see us in five different sissy outfits. The last one the most embarrassing as under my too short frilly dress I was wearing a diaper, a pink one no less. Melissa had seen to my diapering, now allowing any one else to do it. Ribbons had been added to my hair, and instead of heels I had to crawl across the stage and sit with the others in a makeshift play pen on the other side of the stage.

Natalie did show up to root for me, meanwhile she had been taking video of me in all of my sissy outfits. She assured me that she had found a job for me at work, I would be placed in a crib at reception, where all of the visitors to the company could see the cute sissy. The club had loaned her a crib, sized for an adult sissy, all she had to do was post a sign about the sissy contest.

According to Melissa I was doing well in the competition, one of the finalists already. It was a long night, when I was finally led from the club it was eleven thirty, so glad to be on our way home.

The next morning I was awaken by Melissa, her dressing me in another ridiculous outfit so she could take me to work. Right before we left she laid me on the bed and placed a diaper on me. I tried to convince her not to do this to me, but she just smirked, a sissy’s life it will be as she placed a collar around my neck so she could lead me to her car then work.

When we arrived at work I was led into the front of the offices. Most of the employees were there to see me in my sissy attire, The couple male employees helping me into the crib. Natalie approached the crib, fastening a belt around my waist, keeping me laying on my back in the crib. The buckle on the belt was outside the crib, beyond my reach guaranteeing that I would remain in the crib until released. A pacifier was added to my mouth, the ribbons secured behind my head to keep it there. As Melissa was leaving she assured me she would stop by to change my diaper and bring my bottle for nourishment midday.

A bottle, surely she is kidding me. No such luck. At a little after noon she arrived, checking on me than shoving a baby bottle in my mouth. I resisted sucking on it but she rubbed my throat repeatedly until I succumbed to the warm milk. She talked with Natalie for awhile, then came to get me out of the crib. She changed my diaper, using the desk in reception to do it on. Now I smelled like baby powder, as I was helped back into the crib. The belt again fastened keeping me on my back. Melissa had applied a little lipstick to my lips while changing my diaper, then kissed my ear and prepared to leave. I was reminded that she would be here at quitting time, then we would go directly to the club. I have another bottle for you since there is not time to find a place to eat at.

She did arrive on time, I was so glad to see her. Being a sissy and being stared at and played with is not a life for me. Almost anyone visiting the company did that and more. Even Natalie came to play with me often, tickling me and kissing my fingers. On the last assault she came up with an idea, rushing back to her office and returning with a bottle of nail polish. Very shortly thereafter I had ten pink finger nails. She talked about doing my toenails, but Melissa showed up to save me from that happening.

Melissa was thrilled at the nail polish telling Natalie that she would see that I got my toes done too, anything to help her sissy win the coveted first prize. A stop at the salon, making sure I looked my best. They had a few minutes to spare, my fingernails lengthened and polished, my toenails done in the same color. The collar again, Melissa taking no chances that I might decide to miss the final day of the sissy contest.

Once at the club, we were lined up again and led onto the stage. We had to stand there as the MC read the results of the first part of the contest. Then he told everyone of the prizes that the winner of the contest would receive.

A five hundred cash prize for the winner.

A year touring other sissy clubs, showing others what a sissy should look like.

Personal appearances at other sissy contests, fifteen scheduled ones as of this moment.

A thousand dollar gift certificate for sissy clothes, the leading manufacturer of sissy attire furnishing the gift certificate.

Lifetime beauty services from the Turnabout Sissy salons as often as needed.

I zoned out, all of this overwhelming. My earlier assumption that my male persona is history so true.

They held a vote using the audience applause, then read the results of the paper ballots collected over the last two days. I had won the contest, shock was my first reaction, then I fainted. Melissa gathering me in her arms and proceeded to give me a toe curling kiss, as soon as I became aware of my surroundings. Once standing again the other sissies came to congratulate me, hugging me and giving me lots of kisses.

My thoughts focused on some of the prizes for the winner, knowing that the sissy life is mine for the future. I imagine after a year of it, there will be no male thoughts left in my brain, already peeing in my diaper and wanting a baby bottle of milk firmly entrenched. I guess it could be worse, at least I get to be held by Melissa, and receive lots of pampering at the salon. I was reluctant at first, now it seems to be a part of me. A sissy life forever.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

Edie Lynn; Reluctant Bride To Be

Edie Lynn; Reluctant Bride To Be

I met Cindy when I first started at the magazine. She was a writer employed by the magazine to write feature length articles that would appeal to the younger female. My Feminine Interests is an up and coming new magazine, being talked about by almost every female. I had lucked out being hired to write a financial column every month, about a young female’s money and how to make the most of it. I had got the job when I submitted a sample of my work, done in a magazine column style as per the request of the editor. When the request was made at my interview I thought I had fouled up and would not get called back. The request probably to just get me out of the office.

I spent a few days putting something together, just basic info about checking and savings accounts and how to pick the best for each person. I added some information on how much to put away for a rainy day and what to put it in to make sure it would be there when needed. Instead of emailing it I decided to drop it off at the office so that a determination could be made whether I was being purposefully ignored or if they were genuinely interested in my writing. I handed it to the editor’s secretary and she took it back to her boss. I was asked to sit in the lounge until she had a chance to read it.

While I was waiting several other females were called in, finally after thirty minutes I was called into her office. I was introduced to Cindy and Ms. Martin the editor. I was asked to sit down, the others who had showed up not anywhere to be seen. Ms. Martin, the editor, told me the article was basically okay, it just needed to be polished up some. Go with Cindy and the two of you get it ready to publish, then bring it back to me. I was taken in hand and dragged out of the office then down a long hall to her workspace. No private offices here, just some cubicles that separated the employees some.

Cindy was blunt, telling me the info was great but the presentation stunk. I got a little hot under the collar at first about her remark, but her smile quickly won me over. When she delivered that statement she had a devious smirk, knowing she had pushed my buttons so easily. I have always been a sucker for a female’s smile, Cindy’s smile was definitely one of the better ones. She pointed to a chair by her desk and told me to park it. I can see she is used to getting her own way, so I decided to play along, at least until I see if there is a future here.

She had me read each paragraph out loud, then asked me to rephrase it keeping in mind that I was giving info to a young female that had no experience in any of this. About the fourth paragraph I began to get the idea, and after that she made very few corrections in my re-working of the article.

Then she made a suggestion that totally floored me. “Since this and all the other articles are written for young females, would you read an article written by a man or one that was written by another female.” I started to say man, but then thought of my cousin, her attitude about men in general except for dating or marriage not very complimentary.

I muttered female, a smile from her again melting what was left of my heart. “Then pick a pen name for the column, when you write anything financial use that pen name. I think you will find instant acceptance as a writer this way, instead of having to prove yourself over the year or two it takes to do so.”

I thought for a while, asking if Edie was okay. Not a girly girl type of name but feminine enough to not be mistaken for a male name. Another smile, I am going to have to look in the other direction every time she might smile or I will be history before any of this gets off the ground. Cindy suggested that I add a middle name of Lynn to the name and so Edie Lynn came into existence. It seemed to go with my last name of Walker, so I was now a writer using the pen name of Edie Lynn Walker for the magazine.

She dragged me back to the editor’s office and laid the article on the desk. Ms. Martin looked up at Cindy and she nodded her head. I was handed a check for the article, if it was adequate sign on the receipt for the check and you start next Monday. My eyes almost left the sockets as I focused on the amount of the check. I quickly signed the receipt, then an accompanying employment form and Cindy dragged me back to her office. I was shown to a desk on the other side of her cubicle, told what the dress code was for the office and what hours I should be in the office. Since there were no males other then me who worked here she told me dress casual but nicer clothes. If I wanted to wear a skirt that would be okay too. I gave her such a look, but she seemed immune to anything I might do in that regard.

It was expected that I help other writers occasionally on their articles offering financial insight or opinions on some facet of the article. I could also ask other writers for help if needed to make my column more pertinent to the young female. Three articles a month for the magazine and five for their website. Of the three submitted for the magazine the ones not chosen could be used for the website. On occasion a writer could have more than one article published depending on the other writers and the popularity of their column.

That was it, I got a hug and she told me she would see me Monday at eight A.M. A don’t be late was added as she sat down in front of her computer and started working. I walked out in a semi daze, I had a check in my pocket for a thousand dollars for three hours work, including what time Cindy ended up helping me. I did manage to find my car and drove in the direction of my home.

I ended up swinging by the bank and opening a new account, then depositing the whole check therein. It never occurred to me that the check was issued to Edie Lynn because I had another account with them the check was accepted with no problem. The first I became aware of it was when the check was handed back to me, the teller telling me that I had to sign the back as it is written on the front. I turned the check over noticed it was written to my pen name and then signed the back again as Edie Lynn Walker. I didn’t think anymore about it, planning to point out their mistake at the magazine on Monday. Since all of this was like a fairy tale come true, maybe setting aside the earnings might be a better idea, for when the bubble burst. I was sure that was a definite possibility in this case.

Finally when I reached home, I stumbled into the den, booted up my computer and tried to jot down some ideas for possible articles. I figured I had better be prepared not knowing exactly what I would face on Monday morning. I spent the whole weekend writing possible articles and jotting any ideas I came up with for consideration. On Sunday afternoon I decided my clothes were severally outdated and made a quick dash for the mall to rectify the situation. Almost two hundred dollars later, I hoped I had the problem handled sufficiently.

I woke up early, took a shower dressed in my new clothes and headed to work. Even that sounded hopeful. After forever trying to find employment I had finally succeeded. Cindy was already there working on her computer, glanced at her watch and issued one of her smiles. I saw the instructions on my desk for signing in, did so and uploaded my ideas and partial articles from a USB drive. A few minutes later Cindy was looking over my shoulder with her hand resting on my shoulder. I swear I almost melted to a puddle right there on my chair.

She gave me a look, then suggested that I help her research an article she was working on, a way for us to get to know each other and get used to each other. Again she grabbed a hold of my hand and we were off. She never waited for my answer, just presumed that I agreed and dragged me out of the office.

After we reached her car, she turned to face me and told me that the romantic theatrics had to end right now. She likes me, but at this point in time that is all, so cool it and let’s become friends first, then re-visit the romantic stuff later. I was devastated and relieved at the same time, devastated to be read so easily and relieved for the subject to be put aside. She held out her hand and I reciprocated, we shook hands and that was it.

She was doing an article about a young female’s wedding. Every facet was to be covered from the proposal to planning for the big event. From finding the right dress to the actual wedding itself. She had envisioned ten to twelve feature length articles that would run in a series in the magazine. She had gotten approval for the series, now just needed to do the research to make the series come to life. Since I volunteered to help her I would be included in the writing of the series. Yeah volunteered by her raising my hand and telling me thanks for volunteering. I tried to beg off, this was something I knew absolutely nothing about.

Cindy’s remark was it is too late now missy you are committed. I shut up, fearing the more I say the deeper I might get involved. When we pulled up in front of a high end jewelry store I swallowed hard. I was dragged inside and we found a sales associate to help us. Cindy explained about the articles, and what she wanted to see today. The sales associate left for a minute, then returned with her boss. Katherine the manager of the store took over showing us the many different engagement rings and their matching wedding bands. She tried a couple of rings then had me take a picture with her phone. She looked the picture over then took my hand and slid a ring on my finger then took a picture of it. Again the smile and then she went through most of the rings on the counter taking a picture of each on my finger.

Katherine suggested since I was apparently the bride, that I wear a set home in exchange for an advertisement in their magazine. Cindy squealed then called the office right away to arrange the ad. I was standing there looking at my hand, a beautiful engagement and wedding ring on my ring finger sparkling in the light of the store. Katherine and Cindy talked for a while, then approached me with a different set of rings. These were even more spectacular, the stones looked like diamonds, but probably an imitation of some kind. Katherine removed the first set of rings, then rubbed something all around my ring finger. The new rings were slid into place and more pictures were taken. It was almost two hours after we first arrived that we made it back to Cindy’s car. She drove us back to the office, then we went directly to the editor’s office.

I had to show her the rings on my finger, then the two of them went through all the pictures on her phone. I played with the rings on my finger a little, trying to get them to twist a little. They were stuck and wouldn’t move at all. I glanced up at Cindy, another one of her smiles suddenly on her face, then she put her fingers to her lips signaling me to keep quiet. I sat there my eyes riveted to the hand with the beautiful rings sparkling in the sunlight from the window. I could see problems, a young male with a spectacular set of wedding rings on his hand, rings designed for a young bride. The fact they were so showy, almost dazzling would insure that they were noticed on my hand. The hand definitely didn’t look like a man’s hand, the rings accenting my long slender fingers making the hand appear very feminine.

Cindy and the editor talked about the jewelry store, the ad they had traded for and the pictures that Cindy had obtained today. It was decided the first article would run in the upcoming issue going to press in two weeks. Cindy was going to do some things on the proposal, then the selection of the rings and about how the prospective bride should react to all of this. They talked for over an hour, while I listened and played with the rings on my finger. Finally the conference was over and Cindy dragged me back to our office/cubicle. I sat at my desk listening to Cindy thinking out loud. She wanted to go back to the jewelry store and get some pictures of the bride trying on the rings and her excitement at what her fiance had offered for her to choose from.

She got a hold of one of the copyright people, a cute guy about my age and decidedly shy and reclusive. She soon had his agreement to go there tomorrow as the fiancé. Then she told me that I needed to get a makeover and wear a cute dress for my part in the pictures. All I got out of my mouth was huh. Before I could get a clarification from her about my part in this she was on the phone making an appointment for me at a salon in town.

I knew that the job was too good to be true, but I had no idea that it could morph so quickly and in this direction. I was starting to panic some, me in a dress, makeup and posing as a young bride with a fiance. The logical part of my mind was for abandoning the boat and making tracks in the opposite direction. But the money, already had an inroad and then we have Cindy’s smile. I remember the no romantic stuff right now, but where there is a little hope, there is always a way.

Twenty minutes later we were headed to her salon, with an appointment for me to get transformed to a blushing young bride. I tried to start a conversation with her several times, to tell her I wanted nothing to do with this situation, but the words never left my mouth, and soon I was being dragged into the salon.

It did not take them long to erase any maleness, the cream slathered over my body to remove all of my body hair, then a soothing lotion to soften my skin. More than once I tried to bring all of this up, but nobody was listening. I had closed my eyes for a few moments, hoping when I opened them all of this would be a dream. When I felt someone fiddling with something on my chest, my eyes popped open, just in time to see a breast being placed on my hairless chest. I moved my hands there to remove it, but all my efforts proved that it was already stuck there. Another episode of closed eyes, followed by the other breast joining its twin. I threw my hands up in disgust, the lady working on me grabbed one of them and started filing my nails. I gave up, too much happening for me to handle, apparently I am going to be the bride whether I want to or not.

After her working on my nails for half an hour, she massaged them with a scented cream, the aroma wafting up to my nostrils. It smelled like carnations, making me remember my Mother’s flower garden when I was younger. Another look at my fingers, now ending in ten perfectly oval talons, painted a bright red. The rings still on my finger now looked spectacular on my hand, making the image perfect.

Next my hair was worked on, as I was leaned back and treated to many different treatments. Two hours later, and a look in the mirror confirmed I would easily pass as the bride, soft curls framing my face, but most importantly now a light blonde instead of my usual brunette. All of this for an article being published in the magazine. Oh gawd, I will be seen, my picture probably on the cover or worse yet both the cover and other pictures with the article itself. Another look to see if my appearance is different enough to keep people from recognizing me. To me there is enough of the same look, my closest friends probably seeing through the clothes, makeup and the hair style. Now how they will react to that revelation is another matter to consider.

The makeup part was next, another lady brought in to do my makeup. She worked swiftly, erasing what little masculine features I might have had completely. There was still a resemblance to the old me, but only in facial characteristics, not in gender. Maybe I can escape the bullet here, not many of my friends read the magazine if any. Then the clothing, bra, pantie, slip, and a very feminine skirt and blouse. I tried to resist some, but the pantie sliding up my legs kind of killed that protest in the bud. It felt so delicious, sending shivers of delight throughout my entire body. Unfortunately Cindy noticed that fact, a smirk plastered all over her face. I was treated to lunch, much different to that enjoyed as a male. I had to watch what foods I ate making sure to take small bites and curb my tendency to eat everything in sight. We finished but I was still hungry, my protest getting nothing but a smile from Cindy.

On to the jewelers where we were met by my alleged fiance and a staff photographer. Cindy set up each shot, the way she saw it in her mind. The first time I was kissed was quite a surprise, so the picture turned out great. A young woman surprised by her fiance at the jewelers to pick her engagement ring and have it sized to fit. My rings that I had worn for the last few days were removed, a lotion applied to allow them to be eased off my finger. You could still see the impression left by the rings, soon to be replaced with my new ones. I lost count at over a hundred photos that were taken, seems like she had enough for several feature length articles.

I ended up being kissed five times, the last one quite passionate and full of lust. We returned to the magazine, I went to my desk and tried to forget all of the recent actions, but found that impossible. Cindy met with her editor, to discuss how the day went. I was summoned later, for one thing she wanted to see how I turned out, the other was to assign a short snippet for me to write about a female in love, and her first passionate kiss. I blushed several different shades of red, but nodded my head and went back to my desk.

I typed some thoughts down on the computer, but Cindy looking over my shoulder read what I had wrote then quickly erased it. “Edie you can do much better than that, write what you felt as his lips touched yours, your surprise, your longing and the feelings that washed over your body as the kiss transpired.”

I started doing what she said three times before I just let it flow out of me. The third time was a charm, several hundred words of lust, longing and passion were the end result. Of course, the editor loved it, my snippet to be positioned right next to Cindy’s feature length article. After some more discussion, Cindy told me that I would be a featured writer along with her plus doing my financial articles. Let’s face it Edie is here to stay. We definitely need to do some shopping for you.

Things progressed along, I was now writing almost full time, both features and my financial column. I was dragged along as Cindy continued her research, lingerie stores, shoe stores, and the big one shopping for a wedding dress. In the first three issues with Cindy’s series in it I had already appeared in fifteen pictures attached to the column. Thousands more had been taken, but not selected for publication yet.

I knew all of this was so wrong, a male acting as a young bride and enjoying it. But it was like a dream come true, a dream where I was actually the bride, preparing for my big day, the day when I marry the love of my life. In all honesty, Cindy was that love of my life, although she never showed much interest in me other than getting her research done. We spent a lot of time together, both at work and after, usually at her apartment. On more than one occasion I spent the night in her second bedroom, dreaming of her and her smile. Then the next morning the realization that it is a dream, not real life. Maybe one day.

When the conclusion to the series was run, the magazine sold out. They had to do another printing to handle the demand. On the cover was my picture in the wedding dress, a smile on my face and lust in my eyes. My fiance did kiss me many times during the remaining lead up to the series finale. The magazine decided to have a party in the offices celebrating the success of the series. I had to wear the wedding dress, no matter how much I protested it was a requirement as far as Cindy was concerned. It was nearing quitting time when the party broke up, Cindy gathering me up and leading me out the door. I was helped into the limo waiting outside, after Cindy entered, it drove off. The destination was the airport, a private jet waiting for us. Cindy hurried me up the ramp, made sure I was seated and fastened my lap belt, then sat next to me. I tried to ask questions but was shushed repeatedly. As the plane was taking off she turned towards me and asked me to marry her. That was followed with a deeply passionate kiss that had turned my mind to mush. I am not sure I answered her, if I did I don’t remember what I said. I presume she heard yes as I was kissed many more times on the flight. The jet landed several hours later, Cindy hurrying me down the ramp and to another limo. A fifteen minute drive than pulled into a wedding chapel. I broke into tears of happiness, apparently we had flown to Las Vegas, all of this planned in advance. The wedding was performed quickly, I managed a I do then was deep throated by Cindy. Back in the limo then on to one of the large hotels. Taken directly to the bridal suite, undressed and in a gorgeous nightie and robe was ravished for the entire night. I forgot how many times I had an orgasm, they seemed to never end. I tried to pleasure Cindy equally, but Cindy had other ideas. The honeymoon lasted for over a week, with me seldom out of the bed. I actually sighed in relief when we headed back to home and the magazine.

I was informed I had one more series of articles to write for the magazine, then after it was published I was to be a full time wife. The series was a continuation of Cindy’s series, describing the honeymoon and what a new bride had to do to satisfy her hubby. I managed to get it written, Cindy keeping me focused at night as she repeated her actions during the honeymoon. When the last article was turned in to be published Cindy took me home, not to where she had lived but to a new home that she had built just for us. I was shown the house after she had shown me the bedroom, the king sized bed seeing quite a bit of activity immediately. Then she showed me my closet, taking up one whole side of the large bedroom, totally filled with dresses and skirts.

I was told there is no male clothes in the house, twice a week appointments for my beauty needs and a maid to handle normal home maintenance and cooking. My sole job is to look beautiful and see to her loving. Now wife of mine is this alright with you. I grabbed her tightly with us falling on the bed. I made sure she was kissed, not missing many spots on her body, focusing on her nipples and her adorable pussy. We did other things than kissing several of her bedroom toys getting a good workout. We never made it to dinner or even breakfast the next morning, too busy making sure we had not missed any areas of interest. I may have been a reluctant bride, but as a wife not so much.

Okay, enough of this tale I have work to do, keeping a lover happy and content a full time job.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

Natalie; Caught In The Act

Natalie; Caught In The Act

Dressed in my feminine finery, I stepped out on the deck. The cool days of autumn making it almost pleasant here in the desert southwest. My family and I live here, a few miles south of Phoenix, near the mountains that frame the valley. I am alone in the house, parents vacationing in Europe at their retirement villa, and my older sister working till the wee hours of the morning. This is her month to do the night shift, although she regularly rotates with the other Captains and the Chief. Sis is a Captain in the local police force, a suburb of the actual town of Phoenix, her degree in criminology and her work ethic getting her a premium position much earlier than most people. I am sure her gender helped some too since the local constabulary has suffered through several scandals, mostly dealing with prostitution and payoffs involving their male officers. It is a job she likes and takes the position quite seriously.

With the house to myself, I indulged in my compulsion, hobby, whatever you want to call it. I dress in female clothes whenever I get the chance, in fact, I do a little more than just dress in the clothes. I am hoping to spend an evening laying on the deck staring at the lights of the city. Tonight the outfit is an LBD, which is way too short for me, but one that I loved none the less. Of course, all the appropriate lingerie including stockings attached to my corset.

As far as I knew no one in my family knows of my dressing, a secret I have gone to great lengths to keep. My shoes for the evening are a pair of stiletto pumps with five-inch heels, ones that I am quite comfortable getting around in, the straps over the instep and ankle keeping them secure on my feet.

I have set up a lounge chair on the deck and intend just to sit and watch the lights of the city blink off and on in the night sky. Since the house is in some of the foothills surrounding the valley we have a great view of the entire city and most of its suburbs.

I tasted the lipstick on my lips as I wet them, hoping that my thorough yet limited application of makeup is suitable for the evening. Although I had applied it often, I really have not had any formal training in makeup application. I could feel the weight of my lashes from the three coats of mascara that I had applied, causing me to blink more than I usually do. I often wonder sometimes about my sanity, at home alone and wondering if my makeup is satisfactory.

As I turned my head to follow a shooting star, I felt my chandelier earrings sweep over my neck. What a delicious feeling it made as it brushed my upper chest and neck. I know a normal female would not wear long dangle earrings to set on the deck, but I am not normal, in fact far from it as I am a member of the male sex.

I have known of the compulsion for years but do not often get the chance to partake of my hobby. I was planning to stay dressed until the early hours of the morning, my sister, not due home until after six A.M. A brief gusty breeze swirled across the deck making me shiver a little as it found its way up my dress. I twisted a little in the lounge chair trying to get comfortable when I heard a door slam.

I turned toward the house and panicked. My only way back into the house and safety is through the door that just slammed shut. I presume the wind blew it closed, but the reason is not important, the fact is I am trapped outside. I had carefully wedged the door to keep it open, but obviously failed miserably in that endeavor.

I quickly got up and headed to the door to check to see if it is truly closed and locked. The handle does nothing, my fate sealed in a most dramatic way. Our alarm system, something my sister insisted having installed automatically locks any door from the outside when shut. If you have the key card, it is a simple matter to use one of the terminals to gain access to the house. I didn’t have my card, so I am totally screwed.

I head down the stairs to the driveway, to check the back door, hoping for a miracle, but it too is locked securely. I tried a couple of the first-floor windows, but they too are similarly secured shut. I panic big time, tears coming to my eyes, for the world seems to be conspiring against me at this moment.

I feel desperate now, I have to get inside before I am found like this, my secret sure to be exposed, my fate sealed. Figuring that my sister and my parents will have nothing to do with me when my hobby is revealed, I try every window I can, to find some way into the safety of the house.

When panic takes a hold of a normal person, rational thought usually disappears. In my troubled mind, I rationalized that the only solution is to break a window and get to a keypad in the house then punch in the code before the police are summoned. Now most sane people can see a lot of things wrong with that approach, but since I am not using many brain cells, none of them entered into my irrational thoughts tonight.

My addled brain found a rock near the house and I broke a window. I used the rock to move the broken shards of glass aside, opening the aluminum window frame to gain better access to the house and jumped up to push my way into the house. My dress caught on the lower edge of the frame on an alarm sensor, and I am hung up. As I desperately wiggle to free myself from the window frame, to my horror, the empty aluminum frame comes crashing down on my back and pins me there.

Oh, shit and several other expletives run through my brain, but the sad fact is I am caught, my hands and arms stuck inside the house, unable to twist enough to reach the frame. The rest of my body is dangling outside two feet off the ground unable to reach any ground to stand on, to help my situation.

I hear sirens in the distance, time is running out for me, I try again to do the impossible trying to reach back to move the window and gain freedom. My choice of clothing is not helping any as the corset holds my body rigid and unresponsive. My tears are now flowing freely; my world is coming apart rapidly, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I hear the squad cars turn off their sirens as they come down our street, and then I hear doors opening and closing as the officers’ check out the house.

It doesn’t take them long to make it to the back of the house and find me. My fears are real, and they are right behind me. I hear female voices, both of them approaching me from behind. I am told loudly not to move, stay perfectly still as they approach me. I hear one of the officers call it into the station, a supposed burglary and the suspect apprehended. Then I recognize the officer, Cindy a longtime friend of my sister Marcy is quiet for a minute then asks to speak to the captain.

Oh God no, this is all I need to be arrested and found out that I am male before I even get released from that damn window. The other officer gets the window up and pulls me backward through the open frame and pushes me up against the wall. My hands are pulled behind me, and I am handcuffed. I see Cindy talking to the station, presumably my sister, but she is far enough away from the house that I can’t hear what is being said.

After being handcuffed, Cindy sends the other officer to another call, taking me back to her patrol car and placing me in the back seat. She leans down and attaches the leg irons, a new state law requiring all suspects to be securely fastened for transport in a patrol car. In heels and with my hands handcuffed I am not sure I could get far if I were to escape. She closes the door leaving me secured in the back seat of the car and proceeds to take several photos of the crime scene.

I had tried to tell the officer that handcuffed me that I lived there, but it fell on deaf ears, the fact that I had broken a window and got caught in the frame discounting the fact that I lived there. I have no ID on me, and no one let me retrieve any before I was placed in the patrol car.

Crime scene sure fits the bill, it being a crime for me to be caught trying to get back into the safety of the house. I am in the car for way too long; I guess Cindy is waiting for Marcy to arrive. I finally see her patrol car pull up to the house as she gets out and talks with Cindy. Every so often she looks my way but continues the conversation with Cindy. Once Marcy arrived, I decided to say very little, lest I suffer the consequences of Marcy’s temper.

She disappears around the back of the house, presumably seeing what window had been broken to get access to the house. As she came back around the house, I see her talking on her phone, probably the alarm company filling them in on the attempted break-in. After the call, she heads in my direction, opens the rear door and asks me “just what in the hell did you think you were doing. Talking about stupid, you have just used a year’s worth of dumb.”

“Cindy will take you in and book you, plan on staying the night in a cell, then when I get off in the morning you and I will have a long chat. Make up your mind now that you will be telling me everything about why, how long, and where you got the clothes and makeup. Keep your mouth shut at the station, tell them nothing and definitely no names.”

“Do I make myself clear?” I stuttered yes. “Make that your last word until I get you in the morning. I have to find a way to keep this out of the news, or you will be plastered on every paper in town.” She called Cindy over, and I am driven to the station.

It is the first time I have been arrested, and believe me; I hope it is the last. I am stripped, searched thoroughly including body cavities. I received a pink jumpsuit to wear, did I mention that is all I received to wear, no panties, no underwear, nothing. I am photographed from several different angles and fingerprinted. With the makeup and wig, I doubted that I looked much like a male in the pink jumpsuit. Funny though, at no time while I was being searched was any mention made of my male sex.

Next stop is an interrogation room, and many questions are asked, none of which I answered. I am charged with breaking and entering with intent to steal. I can’t believe this is happening to me.

They called a lawyer for me, but I didn’t talk to him either so I am placed in a cell in the back of the station. It turned out to be a long night; the jumpsuit is far from being comfortable, the mattress on the cot had some strange odors, so that didn’t help either. I am just thankful that I am in the cell alone and not sharing it with someone else.

Finally, some light began to peek through a window high up on the wall; maybe Marcy will get me out of this. Several hours more passed by, I am still handcuffed and in leg irons. Unfortunately also still in the heels since they do not furnish footwear for the prisoners. A prisoner, that thought will be with me for quite some time to come. The crying that I did earlier in the night has pretty much dried up, but the reality of the situation has just begun to sink in.

I will have a record now, doomed in the future for a lot of things that I might have wanted to do with my life. Cindy came to get me, unlocked the cell and took me back up front. I am taken out to a patrol car and placed inside, still cuffed and in the pink jumpsuit. Cindy heads for my house, not saying a word as she drives there. In the driveway, she opens the back door of the squad car and helps me out of the vehicle. I am helped to the back door of the house and escorted inside after she uses a key card to open the door. I do notice that the window I broke has been repaired sometime during the night or early morning.

She leads me to the front room and over to the fireplace. She unlocks my handcuffs then raises my arms over a timber sticking out from above the mantle. They are snapped on again, and I am now stuck here until someone releases my handcuffs. I try to get Cindy to release me, but her only words are you got yourself into this mess, you have to live with the consequences. She leaves the same way she came in, with me standing there in my heels that are beginning to be quite uncomfortable.

Time seems to be standing still since I can’t see a clock I have no idea what time it is and how long I have been here. If Marcy is on time, she should arrive home no later than ten o’clock. I think about what I am going to tell Marcy, quickly deciding on the truth to keep this from getting any worse. I just hope that is adequate, and she believes me if she doesn’t I don’t know what I am going to do.

I hear the back door open and then later see Marcy walk towards me. She sits on the sofa and stares at me for a while, the pink jumpsuit still the only clothes on my body. She clears her throat and tells me to start at the beginning and do not leave anything out. I ask her to release me, but she sees no problem with me as is until I finish telling her my side of the story.

I do start at the beginning and tell her everything, from when I first dressed borrowing some of her clothes and Moms. It is over an hour, and I finally get to last night, telling her how I figured I could get to a keypad before the police were summoned. She laughs, suggesting that my hair color should be blonde, not brunette.

I look down at the floor; my emotions are drained, and I feel so empty. I again ask to be released, but Marcy wants me to suggest a punishment suitable for my escapade. I figure I have been punished enough already, being booked and kept in a cell overnight. Marcy thinks it is just a wake-up call for me; you have been real lucky and last night proved it. If I didn’t work there, you would still be in jail, and probably on the front page of every paper in town.

I knew she is right, but surely what I experienced is enough of a lesson, to make future excursions non-existent. She heads to the kitchen, as she needs to make a few phone calls, telling me not to go anywhere. An hour later she wanders back into the living room, telling me that I need to listen. What she is offering is not a choice, but what I will be doing for the next few months whether I like it or not.

“I have arranged some appointments for you, taking up most of today and tomorrow. You like to dress up, so be it. Nathan is taking a vacation to Europe, and Natalie has graciously decided to stay with me.” When the salon is finished, you will truly be a Natalie for the foreseeable future. I start to protest, but Marcy holds up a finger to silence me. It is not your decision, but you will abide by it.

She removes my leg irons and places one of those cuffs that are trackable around my right ankle. According to her after my transformation, she will remove it too. As she unlocks the handcuffs, she warns me that if I try to escape, I will be locked up again in the general population and left there. She will see to it personally. I am led to the downstairs bath, and the jumpsuit is removed. It is replaced with a pink sweat suit and a different pair of heels. No underwear, just my naked self. I am led out the door and placed in her car.

The short drive to whatever she has in store for me is in silence; she obviously is still quite upset, and I am puzzled by her actions and my humiliation on what has transpired in the last few hours. When we arrive at a salon, she faces me and tells me that I am expected, tell them that Natalie is her for her appointment. Do not cross me; the ankle bracelet is registered to a convict that is considered armed and dangerous. If you are caught out of the salon with it, things will not be pleasant as you are arrested.

I will be back at eight tonight to pick you up and take you home. I have deactivated your driver’s license and credit cards, you either toe the line or you will suffer the consequences, most likely things that are not what you expect. I gingerly get out of the car and walk to the front door. Marcy is scary enough to have impressed the need to do exactly as she requests.

As I walk into the salon, I am greeted by the receptionist, after telling her that I am Natalie here for my appointment a stylist is walking toward me. I look at her, then gasp, it is Victoria, a former girlfriend from high school. Now I know that the stars have aligned to ruin my life totally. I stare down at the floor, but she grabs my hand and leads me to her treatment room. Inside she asks me to take off all my clothes and lay down on the table.

She prepares some cloth strips and stirs a pot of something hot on the nearby counter. She asks how I have been, being especially nice in her phrasing of the words. I asked her what all has been planned for me, seeing that she had a card with my name on the top, the name Natalie, not Nathan is printed on the top. She looks at the card, then as casually as she can muster, you have been scheduled for the full transformation by your sister. By tomorrow night, you will be as feminine as I am.

I started to cry, but males don’t cry so I attempted to stifle the tears. Victoria sees the tears, telling me that it is alright to cry, it helps to relieve the tension and anxiety. She gently holds me as I cry, I have made such a mess out of my life, and any choices that I may have had, are vanishing. Here I am her former boyfriend naked as a baby and scheduled to be transformed into a female. Things can’t get much worse for me.

She gently lies me back on the table and spreads some warm substance over a portion of my leg. Then places a cloth strip over the area and yanks. I start to reach down to soothe the area but catch myself.

I am being waxed to remove what little body hair I might have been able to grow in my eighteen years on this planet. She asks if I want to be restrained, some of the areas are more sensitive than the leg and can be quite painful. I silently nod my head, a couple more hours restrained will not be a big deal. She fixes straps on my wrists and ankles and a strap around each knee to keep me somewhat rigid.

Over the next hour, she methodically removes every hair on my body except what is on top of my head. It did get easier until she got to my groin. I asked why there, she just smiled. “I have to fix an appliance there to give you a vagina, and it needs to be applied over hair free skin. I suddenly realized how far my sister is going to carry this punishment, or whatever she wants to call it.

The groin is indeed painful, the tears freely falling from my red and swollen eyes. Victoria has been unusually quiet through all of this; I am sure she doesn’t know what to say to a former boyfriend that is being transformed into a female. After she has eliminated my eyebrows, I tell her that it is okay to kid me, I have made this mess that I am in by myself, so I can take any comments that she might make.

To my surprise, she wanted to know the circumstances of my quote mess. I tell her the full story, since she will be doing my full transformation, I can’t imagine anything I tell her to cause me more trouble than I have already suffered. She listens attentively to my story, and only then do I realize that she has tucked my male equipment away behind the two soft lips of a vagina. I start to say something; she just smiles informing me that she used a numbing spray so that I wouldn’t feel anything.

Talking about a different feeling down there, this has to be the ultimate change. Looking down past my stomach I see a flat front with two soft sensuous lips highlighted by the smooth hairless skin surrounding them not what I have been used to seeing. I feel a few tingles; I guess the spray is wearing off but am instantly aware of how this changes everything. I dressed completely quite often as a female, but afterward, I could always retreat to my male persona. Now that male character is gone, the vagina and soon boobs will change all of that. The impersonation will be 24/7, not just when I feel the desire to do so.

Speaking of boobs, that is Vicky’s next project. She moves a scary machine in, with me still strapped to the table, and makes adjustments to the cups hanging down from the machine. She adds some blob that matches my skin color and lowers the cups so that they are directly over my nipples. The cups are secured with a medical adhesive and I gasp as she turns on the machine and it starts sucking my skin into the cups. After the cups are half full, the machine starts pulsating first sucking, then relaxing, to start sucking again shortly thereafter.

I wonder about the machine’s changes to my body, but I get the impression that one way or the other I soon will be a female in appearance including some significant appendages on the chest. From the size of the cups with my flesh being sucked into them, I would say that well-endowed might be an appropriate description.

As the machine is working on my pectorals, Victoria starts on my nails. It seems to take quite a while for her to turn my chewed, dirty nails into something a little more human. My dressing never took into consideration my nails; it was mainly clothes, lingerie, and a little makeup. With the manicure completed, the polish is next after a conditioning base coat. Pink Candy Delight is the color de jour today, three coats followed by a glossy sealant. My fingernails are just past my fingertips, but the color really makes them pop. I am not that hip, but I always wanted to say that in a conversation. Ten toenails later the look is consistent with both my feet and hands.

As she fusses with my ears, I am afraid that earrings are in my future. Sure enough, she takes a marker and marks each ear. If the touch of the marker is any indication more than one hole in each ear is a definite possibility. As she takes the piercing gun in hand three holes in each ear appear, two in the lower lobe and one in the cartilage near the top of the ear. As the second ear gets its studs, I wonder how much this is going to affect my future as a male, if there is to be any future in the male gender. Males do get their ears pierced, but usually not three in each ear.

I am sure the appliance attached down below can be removed eventually, but the breasts being sucked from my body, probably not so easy to make go away. When out on the deck in my feminine finery, I doubted that my intention was to stay as a member of the female sex indefinitely.

I wondered about my sister’s reaction to my dressing and eventual arrest figured into all of this. It is not a subject that I want to bring up and discuss any time in the future. Then there are my parents, liberal in some things, but their son dressed as a woman probably beyond their ability to cope. If my escapade makes any press or even just talked about around the neighborhood, I doubt they will support me in any way.

Too many people know them, and their reputation in the city has been pristine until this latest debacle from me. I began to wonder what sis has done to minimize any impact on the family. She has not said anything to me about what happened, just that I go through this procedure, not giving any resistance to anything done to me. I can’t see her going farther with my dressing, but that seems to be what is happening. Maybe she will calm down enough to tell me my fate, and what she has planned for me.

Vicky next works on my hair, shampoo, and then conditioner, followed by a cut to turn my longish locks into more of a feminine hairstyle. Extensions are the first thing on the agenda for tomorrow, but I need to have a female look for tonight. The tongs of the curling iron wrapping around sections of my hair turn the straight tresses into curly springs.

As she turns off the pump on the breast apparatus, my cups are almost full, way bigger than any forms I have worn in the past. The hoses are detached from the cups, but the cups are left on filled with my excess chest material so that the tissue can stabilize. They will eventually dissolve themselves leaving only soft breast tissue in its place. After releasing me from the table, I try to stand, the weight of the breasts almost toppling me forward. She picks up a corset from the side table, a lot heavier and sexier model than the cheap one that I often wore at home.

It finds its way around my waist and then the front busks are hooked. It has partial cups that are nestled underneath the breasts and extends to the top of my thighs. I imagine I will not be able to do much when this is cinched up. She starts pulling on the laces, tightening them more and more. I am asked to grab a bar that is slightly over my head then she hits a switch that raises the bar until I am standing on my tiptoes.

That action allows her to tighten the corset some more, but when she puts her knee in the middle of my back to get extra leverage, the last of the slack is removed from the laces. I am told to release the bar, but as my arms come down the pain shoots through me. Vicky suggests that I raise my arms again and then slowly lower them over the next twenty minutes. That will allow the tissue that is squeezed out of the corset to settle and find a spot that will not cause as much pain.

I am helped back onto the table, lying on my back, not comfortable but also not causing pain. Makeup is next some mascara, eyeliner, rouge, and lipstick. Tomorrow she will match some foundation to my skin color, and remove the few faint signs of a beard permanently. A spray is used to set the makeup after I have closed my eyes, and then I am helped up. The forms are checked, they are already somewhat flexible not rigid like they were when the machine started. My breasts easily fill the cups of the corset and more. I am fascinated since I can feel them touch the inside of the cups of the corset, even through the remaining forms. These will definitely require some getting used to.

According to Vicky, the corset will be a part of my clothing for at least four weeks, a new smaller corset to be changed into after two weeks. I am helped into a dress, a simple A-line with a full skirt and heels added to my feet. They have an ankle strap and four-inch stiletto heels with a bow at the vamp of the shoe. The dress is a shade of pink and the heels are ivory with a pink bow.

Somehow pink seems to be the color choice of all my clothes. Marcy more likely the reason for that color to be used. According to Vicky, I am ready for my debut, and she removes the cover over the mirror. All I see is a young female with way too much bust and a super thin waist. There is not a hint of Nathan in the image; he is now MIA.

I am led up to the front reception and told that my sister will be by shortly to pick me up. I try to sit to wait for her, but the corset discourages any such action vehemently. Fifteen minutes later Marcy comes into the salon to get me. She walks right past me to reception asking if Natalie is finished yet. I tap her on the shoulder and say that I am ready. I do get a funny look from her, and then she grabs my hand and leads me to her car. Apparently, the change in my appearance is enough to keep my sister from recognizing me.

The heels are giving me a little trouble, but each step becomes a little easier. With the corset and the short steps that I am required to take because of the heels, I feel my butt swaying a little. I manage to get into the car, butt first and then swing my legs in. The corset though is affecting my ability to sit comfortably, definitely an uneasy situation. Marcy stops me and reaches down to release the ankle bracelet.

We drive towards the other side of the city away from our house, but I know enough to keep my mouth shut. She pulls up in front of a diner, one that the police frequently eat at; the food is reasonable, and the meals are more generous than most. I am led into the diner, and she takes me back to a private room used for parties and celebrations. She pulls out my chair for me then scoots it up when I am seated. The waitress shows up and sis orders for us. A couple of appetizers, and two glasses of iced tea.

She starts off with her plans for my future. She had me arrested and booked to keep that an option if I decided not to follow through. The records will be expunged if I do as I am told in the future. She had a judge set bail for me, and your savings have been used to post that bail. If you skip, that money goes to the bondsman. Hopefully, those conditions will convince you to cooperate fully.

Now as to your transformation. She paused as our order is brought out and continued when the waitress left. Your transformation is temporary provided you give the femininity a chance to see if that is really what you want. “This is not a game that you play when you want to, if you are a female, it is 24/7, boobs and permed hair can’t be taken off so you can have some boy time. That is why you will be living as a female for some time, to see if the real life of a female is what you want.”

“If you handle the experience half-assed, you will have to come up with the money yourself to reverse it. For the near future, I expect you to live and work as a female 24/7 till we see what your true desires are. That means total immersion, dating a male, shopping for clothes, housework, everything a female would do you are going to do also.”

She paused to eat some of the food; I nibbled a little but with the corset cutting me in two, the appetite is not there. The little bit I did have is very good, but there is nowhere to put anymore, the corset totally squashing my stomach. I did drink quite a bit of the iced tea, noticing lipstick marks on the rim of the glass. That right there stressing the degree of change that has transpired.

“Tomorrow the salon will finish your transformation, longer nails, extensions for your hair, a treatment designed to require you to wear heels to walk, makeup application, and some enhancements for your hips. Some of the makeup will be semi-permanent, and finally an adjustment to your voice, so you sound like a female.”

“The next day you start looking for a job, no help from me, the job needs to be where you can take the bus to and from, you will not be driving. I have had a resume made for you with references that can be checked and a state I.D. for verification of your identity. Starting now you will contribute to the household budget and be responsible for buying your own clothes and cosmetics.”

“I know this sounds harsh, but you do not realize the kind of trouble you could have brought down on yourself and our family. I think I have managed to stem any leaks, but we will not know for sure if all the holes have been plugged. I have told Mom and Dad; Mom is looking forward to meeting her other daughter, but as far as Dad goes Nathan is dead. He will eventually come around, but it will take a considerable amount of time for that to happen.”

“Now do I have your word that you will try and make a go of this, or do I need to return you to the jail.” I swallowed hard, but told her I will try, right at the moment I am scared to death. She grabbed me, holding me tightly in her embrace, I do love you and want to help, but when Cindy told me how she found you, I was real mad. It was noon the next day before I realized that if I had not allowed you to be arrested and booked, I would have probably beaten you within an inch of your life.”

“So much of what Mom and Dad have worked for, and what I have strived to obtain could have come tumbling down in an instant, all because of you. I looked at my feet, started crying in earnest, trying to mouth the words that I am sorry, so very sorry. Marcy held me tighter, whispering in my ear that everything will be alright now Natalie. Nathan has been sent away; he can’t cause any more trouble now.”

I guess my new existence as Natalie will indeed cause no trouble, dressing in female clothes and makeup is what Nathan wanted to do. Now Natalie can do that every day, and there will be no fallout. However, there can be no Nathan anymore, a vagina but more importantly, boobs make the appearance of Nathan an impossibility. As Nathan, I wanted to dress as often as I could get away with it, but now Natalie is going to be a 24/7 type of female. Nathan is no more, at least until Sis changes her mind, which I doubt will ever happen.

When we arrive home, I am told to go to the kitchen. As I arrive, I see my new resume, my state I.D. and a new key card for the house. Marcy informs me that this card is keyed only for me so that she can look on a computer to see if I am home yet. I am told I have a curfew now, 10:00 most nights unless I clear it with her in advance. Also is a list of weekly chores that Natalie is now responsible for, to be finished by Sunday of every week.

I am told to get ready for bed, there are wipes in your bathroom to remove the makeup, and the corset stays on until the four-week period is up except for baths. I head upstairs to my room, stopping and staring at the vision of my room when the door opened. The centerpiece in the room now is a canopy bed, with matching dressers and chest of drawers along with a vanity, all done in a French provincial white with a gold trim. I stare at where I will be staying now, definitely Natalie’s room now.

Quickly I checked the closet and dresser, all of my male clothes and shoes are gone. In fact, both are empty; I presume Marcy has donated them to some charity, another way to be sure that I comply with her wishes.

I enter and sit on the side of the bed to remove my heels. With the corset that was a feat in itself trying to reach the straps. I slipped off the dress as I stand again, then slip on the nightie conveniently left for me to wear. The sensations as the gown slides over my body send ripples of pleasure to every part of my body. When I took the time to enjoy my hobby as Nathan, I don’t remember any of these feelings or sensations.

I walked into the bathroom and tried to use the toilet. It had taken quite a while before the communication reached my hidden apparatus to finally let go and empty into the toilet. Then the fact that it seemed to spray everywhere, causing me to use more than a few sheets of toilet paper to wipe myself dry. You never seem to know how good you have things until they are taken away from you.

I used some cosmetic wipes and removed my makeup, then brushed my hair a little, with my new hair brush. I returned to the bed, slid the covers back and slid into the bed. The nightie on the sensuous sheets felt so good; then I discovered one of the disadvantages of femaleness, boobs. I usually sleep on my stomach, but the new endowments make that pretty much an impossibility.

I tried laying on my back, but it didn’t seem comfortable, then on my side, until one of my new titties fell out of the cup of the corset, so I slid it back in. The half cups on the corset are fine in supporting the weight when standing, but lateral movement is still possible. Very shortly after squirming around for a while, I decided on my back is the best option to prevent pinching of my new assets. I got up and retrieved one of the multitude of stuffed animals now in the room, a cuddly teddy bear and scooted back into bed with her in my arms. The plush toy had a cute ruffled skirt around her waist, definitely a female teddy bear.

Marcy checked on me, smiling when she saw the teddy bear that I had chosen to sleep with for comfort. She set down on the edge of the bed, telling me a little more about what is planned.

“You need to do as I ask so that we can see if there is more to this than you just dressing in female clothes once in a while. You have always been withdrawn, happy to be left alone, and reluctant to do something for yourself. Lots of opportunities have been given you, but you passed on all of them and missed a lot of chances to better yourself.”

“Maybe there is something in you that is wanting to get out and express itself. Even though I got so mad at you for your stunt, I want to help you find some kind of happiness in this world before you go out on your own. So I want you to experience some different parts of life to see if you are better suited to one of them. Since you dressed as a female that is where we will start. I do love you, but quite often your brain is left idling at the light as life passes you by.” She kissed me on the cheek, also Teddy and then left the room.

Sleep did eventually come to me, and fortunately, there are no bad dreams. The only thing I distinctly remember is the desire to be restrained in some way. I don’t know if it was a part of a dream or just random thoughts that my mind was processing. After the arrest, the booking, and the time in the cell, something in my mind snapped. Maybe snapped is too harsh a word, let’s just say that it isn’t as bad as it seemed, the feeling of being secure in my bonds almost pleasant in a weird sort of way.

At the breakfast table in the morning, things are still strained between Sis and me. My diet has changed, some fresh fruit and some juice is all that I am allowed. According to Sis, I have to lose about twenty-five pounds for my new gender. That will put me at one hundred thirty pounds, appropriate for my five feet ten inches in height, according to Marcy. The sweat suit again is the clothing for the day, no underwear again, and a ponytail for the hair.

I get in the car, and then whisked off to the salon. Marcy informs me that I will be taken clothes shopping later today, then dropped off at the mall for an errand that I need to perform. After that is performed, I can call her on my cell phone, and she will pick me up. Tomorrow you start riding the bus and looking for work, no excuses.

As I enter the salon, Vicky leads me back to an office near the back and introduces me to Francine, the owner of the salons, here in town to visit and check on this salon. She is a very elegant lady who seems secure in her actions and beliefs. She asks me to tell her the whole story, from the start. She has already talked to Marcy and Victoria but wants to hear it from me. I sigh and begin my tale; now the shame seems to be less significant since more people know what has transpired to get me to this point. The shame might be less, but the embarrassment is still real and high.

When I finish the tale, she asks what I want to do with my life. I didn’t really know what I wanted, this current situation having taken over much of my brain thought process. She prods me a little more, wanting to know if college is a possibility, I tell probably not since I have never been able to apply myself to my studies.

In high school I am lucky to get a C in the class, art and sociology the only two exceptions where I managed a B. I did enjoy art, creating something with my hands is always enjoyable. I mentioned about Marcy’s requirement for me to get a job; I will probably have to settle for anything I can find to satisfy her. I guess Mickey D’s is a real possibility in my future.

Then Francine suggests that I work for her for a few weeks to see if I might fit in and enjoy it. It is only an entry level job, but can work into something else if I desire it to; that part is solely up to you. It is minimum wage, and you can take the bus to and from, we would like you to join us, but you have to apply yourself 100%, or you will be gone in a couple of days. The job is not a charity offer, we think you have some potential if you work hard, but that has to come from you. Think about it as Victoria works on you today and see me before you leave to let me know if you are interested.

Vicky leads me to her treatment room, and I am stripped and placed on the table again. Two half casts are placed under my lower legs, and the straps are tightened forcing my leg into a position where I am standing on my tiptoes. She then injects a syringe full of chemicals into each leg. There is no pain, but I will now have to stand on my tiptoes to be able to walk. It almost seems that I can feel the tendons tightening in my legs, impossible you might say, but I have a bad feeling about this.

The table back is raised leaving me in a sitting position and Vicky access to my head. Hair extensions are next, quite long in a light blonde color. My hair is naturally light brown, so the extensions give it a frosted look. It takes her three hours to add all the extensions to my hair, and the finished look is definitely frosted. The lighter color, making my hair much more noticeable. The new length is mid shoulder blade, and it seems like I have twice the hair that I had before. It is so thick and luxurious that it seems to sparkle in the light of the salon. It also makes my face look smaller and rounded, increasing the female look of my head.

The table back is lowered again, and I am now lying flat on the table. With my legs still in the casts, she helps me turn over, and the dreaded suction machine is brought back in. Two larger forms are attached to the hoses and situated over my rear end. Significantly more of the blobby material is added to each form, and the machine is started. I just hope that the hip enhancements are not as showy as the breast endowments.

As the machine works its miracle on my hips, she brings a bottle of another liquid and a plastic syringe that she could get some of the liquid into my mouth while lying this way on my stomach. She adds a squirt to my mouth and has me swallow, then talk in a normal voice. On the third shot of the liquid, my voice seems higher, also a little more breathy. She waits and gives me another shot of the liquid, then asks me to say something again. This time, the voice that comes out is feminine, way too female in my way of thinking, but since I have no choice, I guess it will have to do.

I stutter out a question about my voice, hoping that it is only a temporary treatment, but Vicky replies that it is semi-permanent until the antidote is given. Her definition of semi-permanent is about a year. I close my eyes, surely this is all a dream, and I will soon wake, and everything will be as it was before.

Vicky pulls my arms forward where they are on the table in front of where I am laying. She moves her cart of nail polishes and accessories to the head of the table and starts on the extensions for my nails. After she has removed the polish, an acrylic extension is selected to fit each finger. Then she uses a special glue the salon has developed to glue each extension to my existing nail. Unlike other nail glue this glue bonds the acrylic with the natural nail forming a very hard indestructible nail that can’t be cut or filed, except with diamond files.

The extensions are at least a half inch past my natural nail, making my largish hands look quite a bit more feminine and dainty. Polish again is applied, three coats of a red burgundy polish and then a glossy top coat. The color is called Sunset over the Rockies, an apt name for this shade of polish. I figured that Vicky has done almost everything possible to make my transformation to female believable, but then I forgot the makeup. Saved by the bell, the machine is still sucking my butt into the forms. Thus, I can’t turn over until it’s done.

Assumptions are seldom correct, and mine has been wrong 100% of the time. The machine is turned off temporarily, and the hoses are unhooked. She helps me off the table and then opens a portion of the table leaving a hole in it. I am helped back onto the table then leaned back so that the forms are situated over the hole in the table. My leg casts are strapped to the table; then another strap is applied to my waist, leaving my butt unattached to anything. The hoses are hooked back up and my hip development continues.

The end of the table under my upper back is raised and locked in a semi-upright position so that Vicky can apply my makeup. The image in the mirror across the room is feminine, an attractive young woman, naked and obviously scared. I sigh for the hundredth time today, each minute some other step in my transformation to that of a female is doled out, and there seems to be no way to stop it or slow it down.

Vicky is really excited about this part, makeup is her favorite salon task, as she brings a large tray of assorted cosmetics to the table. First, she rubs cream into my beard area, using gloves to do so, so I figured the cream to be pretty strong. The cream is allowed to stay on for thirty minutes as she trims the hair extensions to match my previous cut. Only a few longer strands and a general evening out of the cut is performed, leaving all the length intact.

The cream is removed, and any five o’clock shadow with it. Vicky assures me that it is permanent, and I will no longer have to shave. Then she starts on my makeover. First, a moisturizer is applied all over my face; then a plumper is applied to my lips. That needs to stay on a while as she is working on my other makeup. Individual lashes are applied, over seventy on each eyelid. They are quite a bit longer than my regular lashes, causing me to blink quite often. It is almost as if my eyelids are heavier now, but the part that is hardest to get used to is the fringe that I look through every time I blink my lashes.

From there she uses some eyeliner, and shadow, both long lasting, the key to their longevity is that the makeup stains the eyelid, making it semi-permanent. The concealer, the foundation, and the blush are regular cosmetics, able to be removed with makeup pads. The excess plumper is removed so that she can add color to my lips. She outlines the lips with a lip liner, then adding lipstick to fill in the rest. Again both are stains, lasting for approximately six months.

The hoses on the forms on my hips are disconnected and I am helped up after the casts are removed from my legs and I instantly raise up on my tip toes, the pain radiating through my legs way too painful, almost throbbing in its intensity if I don’t. The butt forms are removed leaving a significant protrusion where there was little yesterday. It seemed that I was wearing a pillow on my butt, the fat soft and flexible, bouncing around as I moved just like my breasts. The corset narrows my waist and supports my new breasts giving me an hour glass figure. Nathan is definitely gone, no longer even on the team roster.

The image in the mirror, the true test of her skills in transforming me into a female. She has exceeded any expectations as the female Natalie is all that shows. Nathan has been eradicated completely, not a smudge, blemish, or anything masculine is left to hint at the true gender of the person standing before the mirror. I stood mesmerized by my image, looking at my face and body in the mirror, seeing nothing that used to be.

I loved the look, but to be this way every waking moment is maybe more that I can handle. Reality has a way of changing how you see and view things, the choice of being a female no longer a matter to be discussed or talked about, now just a fact of life.

Clothes are next some panties in a bikini style, and then some hose attaching to the straps on the bottom of the corset. A pair of pumps with five-inch stiletto heels are next, definitely helping with the calves of my leg. Vicky informs me that a five-inch heel is the minimum that I can get by with, anything lower and I will experience some pain. A pencil skirt in a burgundy pattern, made of silk and only coming down to mid-thigh. The ivory sweater, a long sleeve creation with a plunging neckline and tight enough to highlight any curves I might possess.

I am already sporting earrings; a necklace is added that blends in with the diamond studs. She has me apply another coat of gloss to my lips, then pronounces me ready. I ask if I can see Francine before I leave and Vicky happily leads me back to her office.

I ask her if the offer is still open for me to work here if so I would like to take her up on that possibility. Francine smiles telling me I start the day after tomorrow at nine A.M. Vicky will get you a uniform to wear, and you will be assisting her for the first few days. We will see to it that you get a few more outfits to wear, plus several more uniforms so that you can wear a fresh one every day.

Vicky handed me a purse with the makeup she used in it and led me out to her car. I am driven to the mall, about twenty minutes away. She hands me a list that Marcy had given her. It is the items that I am to buy by myself, and then a task that I am to do before I can call her to pick me up. I read the note then blushed right down to my toes.

The note says that I am to buy a package of tampons, and a box of feminine douche. I am to go to the female restroom, douche myself, and then insert a tampon and return to the food court. Vicky will be waiting for me there. Then I am to go shopping with Vicky for lingerie and clothes, trying everything on then make my selections.

No pants, capris or shorts are to be allowed, only dresses and skirts. Sometime during the trying on of clothes I am to show Vicky the string of the tampon, proving that I have inserted it. After making my clothes and lingerie selections, I am to return to the food court, call my sister and wait there for her to come and pick me up. I am given some cash to pay for the tampons and douche and she sends me off to do the deed. Vicky has a credit card for the clothing purchases after I make my selections.

The hardest part is buying the feminine products. Males just don’t do things like this, much less wear them. Then I realized what Sis is doing, I am not a male anymore, and using tampons and douching is a female thing. Since I am now a female it is what I do now. As I made my way to the register to pay I felt like every eye in the store is on me. Then when the cashier asks if I found everything I almost jumped out of my skin.

I did manage to complete the ordeal, then faced with the need to use them, I let out a big sigh, then headed to the female restroom. I found a stall, then arranged my purchases on a shelf on the back of the stall door. I raised my skirt, lowered my panties and read the instructions. With a shaking hand, I inserted the nozzle of the douche in my new vagina, almost moaning out loud with the sensations it caused as it slid into my new vagina.

When I squeezed the bottle, the rush of liquid seemed to invade every nook and cranny of my vagina. I leaked tears; this is so humiliating, then the douche leaking out again caused weird feelings. I wondered how natural females put up with all of this. After I had removed the douche bottle, I picked up a tampon. As I looked at the box it came out of I realized I had picked up the super absorbent large size.

Oh great, now not only do I have to put it in, but it is the biggest size they make. After removing the wrapper, I inserted the tube in my new orifice. Another moan, this time, more loudly, then I depressed the plunger, and the tampon slid out of the tube into its new home for a while. I doubt it, but I thought I could feel it expanding in my vagina, and then I panicked hoping I hadn’t got the string in there too.

If it isn’t where it should be, how would I get it out? I reached between my legs, frantically searching for the string, hoping that I hadn’t been stupid enough to get it caught with the tampon. With a tremendous sense of relief, I found the string, tugging it a little I found out it had swelled sufficiently enough to be firmly situated in my vagina. I wondered about removing it later, but this already is way too much for me to handle so that thought will have to play second fiddle for a while.

The shopping is kind of fun after I got over the initial reaction of doing anything so feminine. The third time I am headed to the changing room to try on an outfit that I had picked out, I finally figured out that I will be a female for the foreseeable future. Marcy has already informed me that I will be doing all things that a young woman does. With my new assets the body is already in female mode, now to just get the mind to join the campaign. The shopping, the tampon thing, and interacting with Vicky simply a device to ensure that I admit it to them and also to myself.

With five complete outfits picked out Vicky agrees to the termination of the shopping episode. The first time that I tried on an outfit, I took Vicky back to the dressing room with me and showed her the string of the tampon. Because she is a former girlfriend, the shame of doing this seems almost too much to bear. Vicky does a little tug on the string and then brakes out giggling. I thought she is laughing at me, but she assures me she isn’t. Just anxious to get to someplace that she can remove it and replace it with other more appropriate items.

That causes more blushing, I have an idea of what she is talking about, but then thought back to our dating where I never made it this close to her vagina, and here she is talking about doing what I wanted to do to her, to little old me. What a turn of events, all as a result of a disastrous experience with my hobby.

I must remember to ask Marcy what she did do about my escapade, what she had to do to cover it up. On several occasions, she has mentioned reporters going over police reports looking for something to sensationalize. The fact that I am related to the captain of the police force would no doubt assure some prominent placement in the news.

Thinking about that night again, why didn’t Marcy just have Cindy put me back into the house, and leave it like that? No report necessary since I lived at the residence. There must be something else in Marcy’s objective that I am missing.

With bags of clothes in hand, I called Marcy on her cell phone and tell her that I have finished my tasks. I told her that I am in the food court, next to the Chinese place. She told me to walk to the exit next to the food court, and she will be there in ten minutes. I meander to the exit looking at the shop windows as I go. As I open the door to leave the mall, Marcy is there and honks. I make my way to her car, and then situate myself in the seat. At least, she doesn’t have the squad car, so I am allowed to sit in the front seat this time.

She heads off to another one of her favorite eateries, this one closer to home and one that I often utilize. We made our way inside and were promptly seated in a booth by the front window. There are only a couple of booths up front, so it is very private. The remainder of the seating is in the large dining room. Marcy orders salads again, and iced tea to drink.

After being served, I ask her about her choice of events on that fateful night. She is aware of what I am asking about, but asked if she hadn’t pursued the scarier scenario, would I have broken down and confessed all. I guess she is right; I ended up so scared of her, and what she might do to me, I spilled the beans without further intervention from her.

She confided in me that both she and Mom have been aware of my activities for at least three years. I just didn’t do anything where I could have been easily caught, to force a confession. That night changed all of that; you got caught by your own hands, in a most comprising situation. Unfortunately, that situation could have backfired on you, and you could have lost all manner of dignity for both yourself and your family.

I decided that a firm, decisive response, might keep everything under wraps and encourage you to confide in me your desires and fantasies. I was lucky enough to plug the usual leaks from the police force, as Cindy handled the arrest in a way that steered any connection to who you were away from the truth. You, not giving any name also helped derail a few inquisitive souls, then when I had you removed from the station and taken home, the reporters moved on to other newer more interesting subjects.

“The fact of a judge setting bail is true, if you back out of your deal with me I will show no mercy, you will find yourself back in jail, in a place where you don’t want to go, and I will not get you out. I know it will affect the family and me, but something has to be done before you really do get yourself into bigger trouble. So keep that in mind sis, cooperate or face the consequences.”

I knew Marcy is serious; frankly, I am still scared shitless of her. “I know I have screwed up big time, and I deserve everything that I have received. I will do everything you ask, just please allow me time to get used to a few of these things, before you add more to the mix. I secretly have wanted some of these things to happen to me, but wanting it and experiencing them first hand is vastly different.”

Earlier that day Vicky asked me to come over for dinner tomorrow night. Being surprised at the invite, I wondered why she still wanted anything to do with me. When we dated before, the relationship is minimal at best, with me doubting that I was the type of male that she might be interested in. Someone new, maybe a dinner or two, but nothing more.

The dating lasted through three separate outings, a kiss or two exchanged, but no heartthrobs or even an adrenalin rush. Any attempts on my part to secure further dates were rejected by her. Too busy, somewhere else to go, and the old standby about washing her hair were all used. In the end, the numerous hints received, and I quit asking.

In school we exchanged pleasantries, but that is the extent of any conversation between us. After graduation we lost contact with each other, her going to beauty school and me doing what I became noted for, and that is nothing. At my first appointment, she told me she finished her beauty training at Turnabout Gurl Salons, getting her cosmetologist license about a year ago.

I meanwhile just goofed off, university seemed to be an impossible goal, my high school grades barely good enough for me to graduate, much less gain any entrance to a school of higher learning. I talked a good game about how I was going to get a job, but when the time came, I ended up never leaving the house. Sis tried to force me to do something, but my parents always let me slide, I doubted that they thought me landing a job was even a possibility.

Now due to my escapade, I no longer had any choice. Marcy insisted that I secure a job, now as a female instead of my birth sex. I cleared the dinner invite with Marcy, a new requirement since my monumental blunder. She verified my request by calling Vicky, checking to be sure that I indeed had been invited. The call lasted way past that part of the conversation, hearing only half of it, I am not sure what all had been discussed.

I resented being checked on, but I was the one to place myself in this predicament, as a result of my actions on that fateful night. When Marcy finally hung up, I was told that I can go but needed to take a nightie with me. I would be staying the night, so I am to be on my best behavior, any missteps will be dealt with severally.

She will drop me off at the salon at four P.M. on her way to work; Vicky will then take me to her home from there after work. Vicky had my new uniforms for work, and that the next day would be my first day at work at the salon. I will be riding in with Vicky to work. With a look that seemed to bore right through my soul, she asked if I could be trusted to behave.

“Yes I will behave, please can you give me a little credit for trying. I know I have let you down, but I want to make amends, and I will do exactly as you wish until I have regained some of that trust.” Those last words barely heard as my throat was like the Sahara desert and almost paralyzed with fear. Recent actions by Marcy have convinced me of her seriousness and resolve. To be blunt, I am still scared to death of her.

Although it is early, I am told to get ready for bed, and she will tuck me in later. I briefly considered telling her that I didn’t need tucking in, but common sense told me that would not be the best course of action. I was still hungry, but there didn’t seem to be any leeway in her request.

An hour later she came into my room, checked on my nightie, then told me to roll over on my stomach. I turned over placing my hands next to my body with my head turned to the side looking to see what will happen next. She pulled first one hand behind my back then the other fastening them in a pair of handcuffs. I started to protest, but was told to be quiet, or she will gag me. Then she reached under my nightie and pulled my panties off me.

“Now you can go the bathroom without any assistance.” As sis stated the obvious, I was also told that she had set my cell phone to call her number if any keys are pressed.

I am leaving for work now, but remember that any call for assistance will be answered by one of the female deputies who have been instructed to treat you as a suspect and will transport you to the precinct for further evaluation. Remember how you are dressed before any wild thoughts run through that mind of yours. You be good, and I will see you in the morning.

Another thought of protesting her actions quickly entered my mind, but one look from Marcy quickly dispelled that notion. I tried to stay angry at her for my situation, but secretly I loved being in restraints again. I must be crazy, who loves being handcuffed and helpless besides me.

Surprisingly I drifted off to sleep shortly after that, sleeping soundly until the early morning. I discovered that besides waking up, I desperately need to use the bathroom. I doubted my bladder could hold any more liquid, and every twist and turn threatened to break the dam. As I fought to extricate myself from my bed, I am sure that I leaked a little as I made my way to the bathroom. Having your hands in cuffs behind your back does not make any of this easier. Then in the bathroom, I had to swing my body around to get my nightie out from between my body and the toilet. I think I finally managed to accomplish that, and as my butt hit the toilet seat, a flood of liquid cascaded into the toilet.

The next problem is how I am going to wipe myself some. When the flood started the liquid sprayed everywhere, typical for a female, but not this converted male to female model. By twisting and turning, I was able to back up to the toilet paper and grab a little in my hands to wipe myself. Then more stretching of my cuffed hands as I attempted to wipe my butt. It turned out to be an exercise in soaking some of the pee up, and not wiping.

When I returned to the bed, I laid down on my side then attempted to get on my stomach. Unlike last night, my breasts seemed to be in the way and several times I was pinched in the ensuing attempt to get comfortable. I gave up shortly after that and slept on my side. I should qualify that statement as I made an effort to get back to sleep, but any more sleep was denied me.

I became alert quickly when I heard someone enter the house. Suddenly my pulse quickened, and my breathing became ragged as I tried to figure out if it was Marcy or my worst nightmare. I sure hope it is Marcy. Otherwise, I am in big trouble. The alarm not going off, should have clued me to the identity of the intruder, but when scared to death rational thought doesn’t exist.

Twenty minutes later she entered the room, and I let out a quite audible sigh. She giggled at my look of fear and what I had presumed might happen. She checked on my cuffs, after helping me get out of bed, then removed the cuffs. I started to protest about being left like that, but the smile that appeared on her face made me cringe. She held up the cuffs, showing me the quick release buttons on each cuff. I lowered my head in shame; I could have gotten out any time I wanted just by pushing one simple little button.

She had an idea that I enjoyed the bondage a little too much, so ran a test last night to see if her theories are correct. She pointed to a camera mounted in the corner of the room that fed video to her office, where she had watched me the entire night. The fact that I fell asleep immediately a sure indication that the bondage comforted me not antagonized me. Since I didn’t try to get loose, protesting about it would be a waste of my time and energy.

It is just another side of your personality, one that you should admit to and learn to live with it. Any attempts to try bondage yourself should be done with planning and safety measures in place. Self-bondage should always be prefaced with letting someone know of your intentions so that they can check on you after a set time. Unfortunately, some don’t heed the advice and die a tragic death because of their stupidity.

Kind of like you being caught outside the house dressed. No backup plan if things didn’t go as you intended. Females in general always think through the what if scenario. They go on a date, the guy goes further than she is comfortable with, and how will she get home. You got caught outside the house in female apparel, no spare keycard, and no phone to call for help, no place to go to wait for me to come let you in. This is what I am talking about.

I admitted that I liked to be restrained, but preferred someone to do it to me, not to do it to myself. Marcy suggested that I keep an eye out for a partner that maybe would complement me in my quest. A dominant to my submissive would be a perfect match for me. If I find someone that might fit the mold, I should do all in my power to please them, since they are few in numbers. For some reason Vicky kept reappearing in my thoughts, I wonder if she has a dominant personality. Then I figured even if she did, I doubted she would be interested in someone like me. From our limited dating in high school, she didn’t seem to be that kind of person.

I managed a shower, dressed in some casual clothes, then headed to the kitchen to get some lunch and begin on my list of chores. I nibbled for lunch, just some chips and dip, then an apple to tide me over to dinner. Today my duties included vacuuming the house and doing the laundry. Although fixing dinner is not on my list, I figured Marcy might appreciate the gesture. Any brownie points that I might gather would probably be needed at some time in my future escapades.

I heard Marcy wake up and enter the bathroom for her shower. I set the table, then served dinner. I had brewed some fresh coffee and soon Marcy came into the kitchen sniffing the air. She looked at the table, smiled and took the cup of coffee from me. The meal was polished off quickly, then she stood and hugged me. There were tears in her eyes as she thanked me for a spectacular meal. I was quickly dragged to her bedroom and situated on her vanity chair.

She wanted to know if I was alright with all that has been done to me. I sat quietly for the longest time, just thinking about how I would answer. Finally, my emotion filled brain managed to put together some thoughts. “I love the body, the clothes, the purpose in life that I now have. I am grateful that you pushed me this way, it is a path that I would not have chosen without some intervention.”

“I do see a lot of things that I have ignored, chosen not to do, and will try to correct them in the future. I hope you can see you way clear to forgive me for being so stupid, I definitely did not think things through and abused any privileges I might have had. I thank you for all you have done for me. I hope I will not be a disappointment to you in the future. For the first time in my life I am scared of you, maybe that is for the best, I really screwed things up and am very lucky that it wasn’t worse. I hope we can be sisters again after you see that I am trying to change for the better.”

I received a hug then she remarked. “Sisters Huh.” I blushed, but she kissed me on the cheek. “I can live with my new sister Natalie, sisters it is.”

“I do wish that Vicky and I can at least become friends, I sorely need one. I appreciate her, and I think I love her, but am terrified that she does not feel the same way.” Marcy smiled like she is aware of something I am not, but never did comment on it.

It wasn’t long until Marcy left for work, dropping me off at the salon with a small bag. Vicky is busy when I arrived so I found a quiet place in the front of the salon to read a few magazines, while I waited for her. An hour later she is finished and came to get me. Instead of leaving she takes me back to her station and has me sit in the styling chair. She helps me get my top off, then places a cape around my shoulders. The chair is leaned back, and she washes and conditions my hair again.

After the chair is back in the upright position, she runs a comb through my hair, sectioning it in small pin curls. After spraying the hair first with a setting gel, each section is put into curlers. When she is done, I look a little funny, with my head full of curlers. A hair net is placed over the curlers, and she drags me into a treatment room. My bra is undone and she rubs my nipples a little getting them all excited and hard. Two vicious clamps are used, one on each nipple and then my bra is hooked again. My blouse is put back on and we head out of the salon. Vicky’s house is not that far away, the ride in silence except for the sounds emanating from my mouth. The clamps are making my life miserable, a dull ache that seems to be spreading out from each nipple.

When we get to her house, I am taken to her bedroom and set in a chair next to a hairdryer like one would see in a salon. It is turned on and the warm air starts flowing over my hair in the curlers. I rub the front of my bra, trying to alleviate some of the pain from the clamps. It instead sends jolts through my nipple right to my brain. I break my silence asking her to remove the clamps, I only get a smile in return. “Nope we need the nipples a little more sensitive before I pierce them.”

“Pierce them, no please no, I have promised to be good. Call Marcy, she can tell you that I have promised. This can’t be happening to me, what am I am going to do with pierced nipples? I don’t want that, please no.”

My mumbling dies down as she puts her lips on mine and kisses me hard. I come up stuttering, short of breath and still trying to keep from getting my nipples pierced. Why is Vicky doing this to me, is it something she wants done or is it Marcy’s idea. Several more kisses and I let out a sigh and stop protesting. I really doubt I am going to change anybody’s mind about this. I wonder what it feels like to have pierced nipples, since I haven’t got used to having breasts yet.

Eventually the timer on the dryer dings, my hair should be dry now. Vicky checks the dryness as she removes one of my curlers, then seeing that it is indeed dry removes the remainder of them. I reach up to feel the curls on my head, still warm from the drying and very soft. She starts brushing them forming the brushed hair into a feminine style. In the mirror across the room I can see a sexy female now, the new hairstyle reinforcing the feminine image.

Vicky seats herself in front of me on a stool, holding both of my hand in hers. “Now it is time for the other treat tonight. Both Marcy and I want the same for you, a happy adjusted personality that is comfortable with their presentation in society. You have withdrawn from society instead, done nothing, abused your privileges, and isolated yourself from everyone. Now that we have you in a female body, you will not likely be able to avoid attention, but you still need a reminder that you are female now, Nathan is never coming back. I know she offered you a choice, but I see it a little differently. I love Natalie, would like to be able to take care of her, love her and cherish her in my time with her.”

My blouse is removed and the bra soon follows leaving me naked with just the clamps on my nipples. My very sore and aching nipples. “I am going to pierce your nipples, putting rings in them to continually remind you of my love for you. They signify a commitment from you to me, you are mine, to obey me, to honor me and to love me, as much as I love you. This is not for the short time, but for the rest of our lives. Now sit there and I will perform the procedure.”

I listened to what she had said, trying to let the thoughts sink in, hearing what she had said, and waiting for it to be done. I didn’t protest as she came back to the stool placing a tray of items on the nearby table. I glanced at the items, but quickly looked away. She removed a clamp from my nipple, cleaned it with alcohol and then took a needle and put it through the base of my nipple. I had closed my eyes not wanting to see her do it, but never did feel the needle enter my skin.

She took a gorgeous ring from the tray, opened it up and pushed one side of the ring through the new hole. Cleaned that end with alcohol again and added some liquid to the end and pushed the two halves together. Then she moved to the other nipple doing the same to it. I looked down at the rings, they looked like silver encrusted with a row of purple colored stone along the lower side of the ring. Each individual stone sparkled in the light, reflecting like stars.

My breasts seemed to perk up, the addition of the rings making them more prominent, no longer able to being hid under some bulky clothing. She helped me into a new bra, the larger cups being able to handle the inch and a half rings easily. “Oh, shit what am I going to do now, a female in looks and now pierced, a constant remainder of my new status in life. Unless I can hide them somehow everybody is going to see me this way, unusual for a female, but a male, I doubt there is even words to describe it.

I realized that until things are reversed, if ever, Nathan is now history. Way too much done to hide or make an excuse about, I needed to accept my fate, that of a teenage girl for the future. Vicky saw my conflict, taking my hands and leading me to her bed. I received a nightie to wear, and then helped into the luxurious looking bed.

“With these rings I do promise I will take care of you for all of time. You belong to me now, my property, my body to do with as I want. You will obey me in all things from this day forward. I have glued the rings together with superglue, they are not able to be removed. They are a special silver alloy that is very difficult to cut, the stones are amethyst, with six perfectly matched stones on each ring. The inscription on the ring reads the property of Vicky.”

I should be furious with her, just like when Marcy had me arrested and booked in jail, but I don’t feel that way. I roll over and place my head on Vicky’s lap, as she leans down to embrace me I moved somewhat to place one of my nipples almost in her mouth. I put both of my arms around her neck and pulled her closer to me. A gesture of submission, an acceptance of my femininity, I am not sure which but it feels right somehow.

How I could have come so far in the few days since being caught is unfathomable. My body has been changed to that of a female, I have chores now, a job and now pierced nipples. I even set there in the chair and let her do it to me without being restrained, never even making a sound or whimper as it was being done. I am now apparently owned by Vicky, body and soul and still I haven’t said anything.

She gets up, removes her own clothing sliding on the top part of a baby doll set and comes around to the other side of the bed. She slides under the covers slipping behind me with her arm around my body and lightly rubbing my pierced nipples. Her uncovered female sex right up against my butt, I can feel the moisture and the heat from it warming my body down there. A smile comes to my face, she owns me and I turn her on big time.

Nothing happened that night, as I am thinking about what I have endured, what I am going to do now, I fell asleep. Yep, one minute fully engaged and the next out to the world. I had to use the bathroom just before dawn, but had to extricate myself from her grasp. Using the bathroom as a female is still a learning experience, way too messy, but other than that not that bad. I had to stop and lift my nightie and look at my breasts, then realizing that I still had a bra on. I removed the nightie, then unclasped my bra, not an easy task.

I stared at my pierced nipples and the beautiful rings through them. I am not sure how long I looked at my pierced nipples, but Vicky entering the bathroom with a huge smile on her face was not who I wanted to see me this way. She did her business, then dragged me back to bed. The bra and nightie was left in the bathroom. She laid me down on the bed and hurried around to the other side. She scooted up next to me and gently took a ring and nipple into her mouth. They were now a little sore, but she just held it in her mouth, running her tongue over the ring every once in a while.

It was erotic, but also relaxing. I soon found myself back asleep, only to be woken by Vicky to get ready for work. A shower to clean myself up, then into my underwear and the salon’s uniform. Vicky had already dressed since she had taken her shower before me. When I started to put on the bra she stopped me. The short uniform dress was slipped over my head and pulled down over my breasts, it was adjusted over my hips, and then the zipper was pulled up. I looked at my chest the ruffles of the bodice barely covering my rings in my nipples. The red came to my face, she expects me to go to work this way. I received a kiss, then she adjusted the ruffle insert in the dress so that it covered my nipple rings a little better.

“Just a friendly reminder you are a female now, 100% female. Act accordingly and everything will be fine. When we get to work do as I say and I will start teaching you to be a cosmetician.” I am given a bottle of water and led out the door. She picked up both of our purses off the hall table, then on to her car. The trip to the salon was fairly quick, I really didn’t have much time to become more nervous. I was aware of all the things that had been done to me, the nipple rings the most prominent thought.

As we entered the salon she left our purses at reception and took me back to her work station. She showed me how to restock it and from where to get the supplies. Then she had me wash and condition her hair. I was so nervous, if I did it wrong I am sure she will abandon me. I managed to make it through that ordeal, then she told me I was going to put curlers in her hair.

Well, I started crying right away. I don’t even know how to start and she will be so disappointed in my effort. Another stylist came along, took my hands and started showing me how to put in curlers. Her name was Susie and she was very patient with me. About the sixth curler I began to get the jest of what I am doing and the rest of the curlers went in without much trouble. I was so wrapped up in what I was doing I didn’t see the smile on Vicky’s face. Vicky had me set a dryer for forty minutes and she got underneath it. I sat in her chair for a minute, then thought I should be doing something. I found some glass cleaner and cleaned her mirror. After I finished with hers I continued down the line cleaning all the mirrors in the salon. I cleaned up each station, removing tissues, and things that they would not use again while straightening their brushes, combs and scissors.

I was lost in what I was doing and hadn’t looked over where Vicky was setting under the dryer. When I did I was surprised. Next to Vicky was Francine, on the other side was Susie, and all three had the biggest smiles on their faces. Of course, I turned fifteen different shades of red but in my embarrassment I quickly looked for something to do. I saw a broom and went to sweeping around each station, not because they needed it but because I was totally embarrassed caught being such a girl. I had been humming I feel like a woman while I was performing my little tasks. Francine got up from the chair walked over to me and hugged me. “You are doing fine, just relax. By the way do you like your pierced nipples, they look so pert and eager this morning.” She giggled and left me to my sweeping. I am not sure that the red on my face will ever fade away, but then maybe it is just an integral part of my new found femininity. All because of being caught in the act.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca